An Iraqi City Divided, and Defined, by Its Walls

A vehicle stops at a checkpoint in Baghdad, surrounded by blast walls. "The walls are the most hated thing," a Baghdad resident said of the barriers that riddle the city. (By Sabah Arar -- Agence France-presse Via Getty Images)

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Ahead of Abdullah, a car had broken down. Behind, a driver idly pushed his stalled taxi.

A young boy went window to window selling Syrian-made tissues for about $1.

Ninety percent, Abdullah said. That was his sense of security in a city that, by most standards, remains jarringly violent. In comparison to the recent past, Baghdad is witnessing a welcome respite. "It's nothing!" a cafe vendor shouted the other day after hearing a car bomb, then watching plumes of smoke rise over the Tigris River. "Nothing!"

"It's tough on us. Sometimes you feel like you're suffocating," Abdullah said, tapping his prosthetic leg for emphasis. "But if it's the cost of security, what can we do."

The line grew as the workday ended at ministries, cars snaking far behind Abdullah's. Many people chose taxis that dropped them off at the checkpoint's entrance, passing Iraqi soldiers manning the checkpoint, border and point of entry to Sadiya. They passed wanted posters that ranged from $50,000 (for Abu Hussein al-Fatlawi and Wathiq Abdel-Jabbar al-Thujyal) down to $1,000 (for Salih Shabaan, also known as Abu Mustafa.)

Some residents had gotten out of their cars to plead their case not to wait in line: There were only women in the car. They felt ill. They were in a hurry.

"There's only one line!" barked Lt. Hamed, who was manning the checkpoint.

A policeman in a tattered uniform approached him. The policeman was a soldier, he said, and soldiers don't have to stand in line. "If I was a civilian, okay, but I'm not."

"The command is not in my hands," the lieutenant said.

"But the order is wrong," the policeman pleaded. "Soldiers don't have to stand in line."

"Am I a liar?" Hamed asked him, his tone sharpening. "One line!"

Abdullah had finally arrived at the checkpoint in his taxi. The wait can take an hour, sometimes less, sometimes more. On this day, he caught a break. He was home before 3:30 p.m.

Smiling again, he cited a proverb.

"Be optimistic that good will come," he said, "and you will find it."

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