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As Turmoil Ebbs, Iraqi Women Seek Freedom of Road Again
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Lt. Abdel Hassan Jawad, a spokesman for the Basra traffic police, said driving schools in the southern city remain closed. As for female drivers, he said, "I can count them on my fingers."
One factor contributing to the rise in female driving students in Baghdad is a big raise for civil servants awarded in June. That has allowed Ashwa Mejid, 28, an employee of the state agricultural bank, to think about buying a car.
She was preparing for a lesson one recent day at a white concrete building whose exterior was gaily painted with traffic signs. "Al Fahed for Learning Art Driver and Technical," its sign proclaimed in bold if imperfect English. The school, in eastern Baghdad, has also had an increase in female drivers.
Mejid, in a bright blue head scarf, tunic and jeans, said her female colleagues at the bank were all talking about getting cars. Her parents were supportive, too.
"Even the Iraqi army, when I am at the checkpoints, they encourage me. They say, 'You're a hero! You're brave!' " she gushed.
Sitting next to Mejid was one of her co-workers, Leila Muhaibis, 33, in a leopard-print head scarf. She was also taking driving lessons. But she appeared considerably less buoyant.
"For me, it's different than for my friends. For them, this is about an ambition. For me, it's something I need," Muhaibis explained.
For three years, a blue Honda has been sitting, unused, in front of the home she shares with her elderly parents. It belongs to her brother.
"He's in prison," she said. "The Americans grabbed him off the street."
That, at least, is what she had been told. But when she went to the U.S. military detention center at Camp Bucca, they had no record of her brother.
"November 23, 2005," Muhaibis said, her eyes welling with tears. "We haven't seen him in three years."
At first, her father didn't want her to learn to drive, she said. He was safeguarding the blue Honda.
"The car belongs to his only son. He was afraid something would happen to it," Muhaibis said. They waited and waited for her brother to return.
She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.
"Now things have changed."
Special correspondents Dalya Hassan and K.I. Ibrahim in Baghdad and Aahad Ali in Basra contributed to this report.
