IRAQ ELECTIONS
Iraqis Cast Their Votes, Despite Violence


An Indelible Moment
For Iraqi Nationals, Hope for Democracy Is Right at Their Fingertips

By David Montgomery
Washington Post Staff Writer
Saturday, January 29, 2005; Page C01

The ballot was the size of a large placemat. It had more than 100 slates of candidates -- 100 doors into the future, pick one. Hayder Alhamdani marked his choice with a blue ballpoint pen. He folded the ballot in quarters and, as he was about to slip it into the transparent plastic ballot box, he turned to the election official standing watch and opened his mouth to say something.

But what could he say? What words would be equal to the occasion? So much complicated personal history was welling up at this historic moment in the unlikely locale of a Ramada Inn conference center in New Carrollton: the flight from the murderous dictator 14 years ago, a new life and citizenship in America, the anguished afternoons in spring 2003 watching the shock-and-awe bombardment of his home town from the comfort of his Reston townhouse, the death of his brother apparently at the hands of the U.S. Marines -- and then the return to Iraq, to work side-by-side with the U.S. Army.

There was much to reconcile, many mixed emotions. This moment had been purchased with a lot of blood. But even in the fog of war and the sadness of exile and the blindness of faith there are truths that cannot be denied, that everyone can agree upon. Hayder Alhamdani selected one of these simple, resonant truths for this moment.

"This," he said quietly, "is the first time in my life." He let go of his ballot. He cast his ballot.

He had never voted before. Certainly not in Iraq. He never took the opportunity in his adopted country, America, either. After voting yesterday, he held up his purple right index finger. His wife, Alyaa Mazyad, held up hers. They showed their purple fingers to their son, Laith, 3, who was amused.

The purple fingers are a symbol of this first democratic election in Iraq in half a century. Exiles and expatriates began voting yesterday, and the polls will remain open through tomorrow. Iraqis in Iraq vote only on Sunday. Voters in New Carrollton, one of five sites in the United States, poked their right index fingers into a sponge soaked in special ink that's supposed to stain through Sunday, a security measure against double-voting.

All day yesterday, voters held up their purple fingers in triumph. It was a new victory sign, maybe someday a peace sign, they hoped. It befitted the low-tech, hands-on feel of this election -- democracy at its most basic and emotionally powerful. Democracy had marked them, touched them physically, and they hoped it would last forever.

In a few minutes, when he had found more words, Alhamdani, 35, said: "This is for all the people who sacrificed their lives for Iraq. This is for my brother."

People traveled great distances to vote -- from Boston, New York. Alhamdani traveled perhaps the farthest. He came from Baghdad, where he works with a contractor as a media and culture adviser for the 1st Cavalry Division of the U.S. Army. He said he could not vote in Iraq because he had lost the Iraqi documents that were required, and he had left the country just before Saddam Hussein instituted a food ration card program, which also serves to register voters. His U.S. passport, showing his country of birth as Iraq, and his U.S. driver's license were enough to allow him to vote out of the country. He took vacation time to vote and spend two weeks with Alyaa, 26, and Laith.

For the first time, he could ponder the age-old paradox of democracy. One person's vote hardly matters in most elections. Why bother?

"It's personal," Alhamdani said. "It's my responsibility to my country, my family, my people. The most important thing is to vote and show you are responsible for the country you grew up in. It's a duty."

He declined to disclose which slate he selected. Secret ballot, after all.

Alhamdani's emotions about the U.S. invasion and aftermath have traced an arc experienced by many Iraqis who have been torn by the cost of death and destruction wrought on their homeland, even for what they may consider the worthwhile goal of toppling Hussein and trying to build a democracy. As the war began in March 2003, Alhamdani allowed a reporter to sit with him during his nearly round-the-clock vigils in front of the television. "It's terrible. I'm speechless," he said then, as the orange and green explosions bloomed over familiar landmarks. But, he added: "We have no choice."

A month later, he described how he had learned from family members and witnesses that his youngest brother, Mohammed, 26, had been accidentally shot by Marines while on his way to his electronics store in Baghdad. A spokesman told The Post then that the Marines had no record of the incident. This week Alhamdani said he still "blames the Marines," but "I don't have the full story."

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http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A46078-2005Jan28_2.html

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Jubilant Iraqis Defy Insurgents to Vote
Scotsman, UK - 5 hours ago
... of the country, including in the British controlled south, people celebrated in the streets, defiantly raising their index fingers, stained purple with an ink ...

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