By Carol Morello
Washington Post Staff Writer
washingtonpost.com
Monday, April 28, 2003; Page A01
BAGHDAD, April 27 -- His portraits are torn to shreds, his name is openly cursed, his palaces are occupied by U.S. troops, but Saddam Hussein still retains the power to convince many Iraqis that he is plotting one final, fiendish surprise for his birthday on Monday.
The streets of the capital were filled with speculation today that the former president was still alive and in hiding and would orchestrate a major attack to mark the day he turns 66. Theories abounded, the most prevalent involving the use of chemical weapons. What they all had in common was the target -- the U.S. troops who ousted him and now rule his country.
The anticipation surrounding Hussein's birthday, once an occasion for a weeklong homage, reflects the steely grip that he had on his country for more years than most Iraqis have been alive. Many find it hard to fathom that the man who had vowed to defend Baghdad to his death simply disappeared from the scene without putting up much of a fight. Three weeks after the capital fell, many Iraqis still keep Hussein's photograph tucked away, as a kind of insurance in case he should ever reappear.
His birthday is regarded as a potential turning point in a country traumatized by his merciless rule and a succession of wars. A day without event could prove to Iraqis that the man who dominated their lives for three decades is finally gone.
"All Iraqis are predicting something for his birthday," Hassan Shabata, 23, said as he strolled along a street where Hussein is believed to have made his last public appearance, on April 9, the day his government collapsed. "Maybe people are still afraid of him, because of the tyranny. Thirty-five years is enough to make anyone afraid. But if tomorrow ends safely, and nothing happens, then Iraqis will start to relax."
For many Iraqis, April 28 is as memorable a date as the 4th of July is to Americans.
The decorations used to go up a week in advance. Streets were festooned with even more of his portraits than usual. Balloons and colored lights were strung on stores and offices, and every Baath Party office laid out tables of cakes, pastries and soft drinks for party members and their families. Grandstands were erected in public parks, where singers and poets gathered to perform odes of love to the president that were written expressly for the occasion every year. Television was awash in excerpts from his speeches, and every school in the country sent a student delegation to dance for him.
The total dominance of one man over an entire nation does not vanish overnight, particularly in places like Adhamiya, a middle-class neighborhood in Baghdad where many army officers live. It was on a busy commercial strip in Adhamiya where Hussein is alleged to have made his last public appearance, even as U.S. troops were making audacious swings through the capital to make their presence felt.
Most of the merchants who work in the area remember the day clearly. They say Hussein arrived about 1 p.m. in a gray car that moved slowly along a busy street with small stores that sell clothes, gold jewelry and used musical instruments. He passed children selling tin trays laden with bread dipped in honey, the aeronautical engineer reduced by circumstances to hawking a few Pepsi Colas from a green plastic bin of cold water, and the rickety wooden stand with cheap wristwatches that had Hussein's face on the dial.
Merchants said his car drove toward a mosque and turned right onto a bridge. They knew it was him, they said, because he was accompanied by his secretary, Abdel Hamood. At the crest of the bridge, the car stopped and Hussein got out and climbed onto the hood. For about 10 minutes, he shook hands and waved to the crowd that pressed toward him.
And then he simply drove away, vanishing from public view, if not memory.
While many Iraqis loathed him, some say they feel betrayed by the apparent speed with which Hussein left their lives. They believed him when he said he would defend Baghdad with his life. Few can grasp how a man who survived the 1991 Persian Gulf War and 12 years of international sanctions could just melt away and never be heard from again.
"It all happened so easily," said Hassan Shabata, who believes Iraqis will realize Hussein is gone only after his birthday passes without incident. "He left so quickly, and the coalition forces came in. He just ran away. Many people are feeling shocked even now."
Most Iraqis believe Hussein survived the war.
"He is here in Baghdad," said Abu Khatab Azawi, 30, who said he hated the United States and wanted to fight the soldiers occupying his country. "He has been here for 35 years, and he is here now. Some people say something will happen tomorrow. Maybe chemical weapons, or he will attack Israel, or Kuwait. But I don't think so. Saddam Hussein is gone. Even if he returns, he won't be like the old Saddam. Everyone knows the American army is here now."
Many residents of Adhamiya miss the old Saddam.
"I loved him," said Mohammed Abdallah, 18, a high school student who was so convinced Hussein would reappear on his birthday that he was planning to stay home. "Maybe tomorrow, he will send the Fedayeen to explode the American tanks. I am sure he is alive. Some people saw him in the last few days."
The support is not unanimous, and an increasing number of Iraqis say they believe Hussein is gone for good.
"There will be nothing tomorrow," said a retired army officer who spent 10 years as a prisoner of war after Iraq's war with Iran, and would not give his name as he stood outside the stall where he sells children's pajamas. "It's gone. Everything is over. If Saddam had been killed in a tank defending the city, he would be a hero. But he ran away. Saddam Hussein is gone. Forever."
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