Iraq goes back to school, but not back to normal

As a US tank lumbers by, Kamil notes that her sister lives in Raleigh, N.C. Thousands of Iraqi exiles living in the US want to return their homeland - not so her sister. "Why would she want to come here?" asks Kamil. The second floor of the National Theater annex collapses as she drives by, as if to answer that question.

Enterprising salesmen wander through the traffic selling printouts of the US deck of most-wanted Iraqi leaders. The US now has 18 of the 55 top regime members in custody.

Sama, the eldest, is the last one to be dropped off. But her girls' school is near the Jamhuriya bridge, where heavy fighting took place a few weeks ago, and they find the school wrecked and abandoned. Sama is in her last year and is - was - planning to go to law school.

"But I don't care, actually," she says, looking disappointed and wiping off her pink lipstick with the back of her hand.

A few hours later, when they are finally back home in the Ghazali neighborhood, Roxan Kamil's husband, Awal, is pacing in the living room. A military man for 26 years and a former officer in the Republican Guard, he is not used to being at home, uncomfortable in his civilian clothing, and generally agitated.

Ms. Kamil takes out a tourism book on the treasures of the now-sacked national museum and leafs through it. The Assyrian period was her favorite, she says, wiping a tear from her eye. Sama rolls hers.

"Who cares about the museum or our history or our past, woman," roars Mr. Kamil, disparagingly. "The problem is not food or water or traffic or your Assyrian statues. It's about the future. What will come next?"

The electricity buzzes and then disappears, too, stopping the tea kettle in mid-whistle. "I want to understand what is going on," he yells. His money, held in the bank, has been lost, he says, and he will never work as a military man again. "But I can't do anything else either," he adds.

A month ago he was on the outskirts of Baghdad ready to defend the city. But he received no fighting orders.

"We had trained our whole lives for defending our city," he says. "But there was a conspiracy and we never got the order to fight. So we went home. There are now seven divisions worth of elite soldiers at home in their pajamas like me." He has no expectations that the Americans will call.

"I am of no use to the Americans," he says. "They are only interested in Yousif. Only the very young - so they can turn their minds and make them into a new kind of Iraqi man." The older generations, he believes, will be overlooked in the future of the country. "No one asks us what we want or who we might chose to lead us," he says. "We are not important to anyone. Shame."

Sama picks up the poodle, scowls. She has nothing to do for the rest of the day. She applies some fresh pink lipstick.

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