In 'Capital of Woes,' a Holiday for Enjoyment

BAGHDAD, March 21 -- In the northeast Iraqi town where Salah Mehdi lives, explosions and gunmen keep most people close to home. In the surrounding province, there is only one amusement park -- closed by order of the government. So if he and his family were going to celebrate the first day of spring in true Iraqi style, but with some degree of safety, Mehdi felt he had but one choice: Baghdad.

His family was surprised when Mehdi decided that the only safe place for the holiday was the city he called "the capital of woes." But on Monday, he and his brother packed their families into a car and set off from the town of Khalis for the 50-mile drive to the capital.

Along the way, Mehdi said, he and the families passed checkpoint after checkpoint, some with 100 cars or more waiting to pass through. They saw piles of rubble that Mehdi said three years ago were government buildings and Iraqi army bases. The trip was painfully slow, Mehdi said, but added, "I had to come to Baghdad today."

By Tuesday afternoon, he and his family sat in Rusafa amusement park, one of Baghdad's biggest. On a thin mattress spread on the grass, he, his wife, his brother and his sister-in-law sat around a big tray of rice and meat, watching their children play and run.

"I know the situation in the country is frustrating," said Mehdi, who sells propane in Khalis. "But we don't count how many times we die. It is only one time, and before it we should enjoy."

Iraqis celebrate March 21, the vernal equinox, in a variety of ways. In the Kurdish north, the festival called Norooz, or new day, is a time for traditional dances. In most other parts of Iraq, picnics in the countryside are popular. In Baghdad on Tuesday, people avoided the city's risky streets and headed for fenced and guarded amusement parks.

At Rusafa amusement park, Iraqis could almost forget they were in a city where sectarian violence tops the news every day, with more than 1,000 people killed in the past month. At the entrance, people with wide smiles jostled one another as they waited for guards to search male visitors and their bags. Although holiday gatherings like Tuesday's make easy targets for suicide bombers, people made light of the danger. "At least you die laughing here," one visitor said when a guard searched him.

Couples, hand in hand, slowly made their way to a pond, where they sat and whispered into each other's ears. Children climbed fences, using them as monkey bars.

"I want to go to the merry-go-round," demanded Aya, Mehdi's 5-year-old daughter. "Hurry up, we are losing time," she said, prodding her mother.

"You bring children here once, they don't forget it for a year," Aya's mother, Hanan, said happily, ordering her children to take it easy so they wouldn't hurt themselves.

Ali Karim and Haider Majid, both 21-year-old Kurds, accompanied their girlfriends to the park. They rode the roller coaster, screaming happily for the entire four-minute ride.

"Iraq is not all suffering," Karim said. "We have Norooz, too."

Yet, as the conversation continued, Karim and his Kurdish companions all remembered relatives and friends who were lost to the violence. "We remember them today," Majid said.

When asked how many family members or acquaintances had been killed since the U.S.-led invasion in 2003, Karim said he and his friends had stopped counting. "Every day," he said, "there is another loss."