Iraqis now free to sin, causing some to vow revenge

BAGHDAD, Iraq -- When the Atlas Cinema last showed "Blue Chill," people screamed: "Yes! Yes!" every time the actors began kissing, only to see the scratched reel jump to the next scene. On Monday, they sat in awed silence as naked couples writhed on screen.

"The movie is much more beautiful now, because there's sex," said a beaming Mohammed Taher, 18. Since Saturday, when the theater reopened with a freshly uncensored version of the low-budget American flick, he has seen "Blue Chill" three times.

Baghdad has gone through a revolution in the past three weeks, casting off decades of censorship and state control with shock and awe. Banned books, satellite dishes and DVDs are now sold on the street -- as are alcohol and women.

Nobody knows how long the permissiveness will last. Iraq's American governors brought together Iraqi political leaders Monday to discuss a new government, and many Baghdadis believe that once it's in place, some of their freedoms will disappear.

Conservatives are counting on it.

Horrified by the changes, some Iraqis blame America for what they call a cultural degradation. If it continues for long, they promise to rise up in a holy war against the U.S. forces occupying their country.

"Everything against Islam, everything we hate, has been imported by the Americans like a disease," said Abbas Hamid, a 60-year-old merchant. "We'll fight them. We're tired now, but we'll rest up and use our guns to drive the Americans out."

For now, Hamid appears to be in the minority as Iraqis excitedly discover worlds of vice -- and virtue too -- long forbidden by the repressive regime of Saddam Hussein:

Teenagers gape at Christina Aguilera's navel via satellite dishes illegal under Saddam.

Young lovers smooch in cars, hidden behind tinted windows that were banned by Saddam because they prevented police from spying on motorists.

Prostitutes walk the streets in some neighborhoods, beckoning motorists.

Bookworms excitedly leaf through political histories that could have gotten them tortured in years gone by.

Shiite Muslim religious leaders watch grainy images of ceremonies from neighboring Syria, banned for years out of fear that clerics might challenge Saddam for Iraqis' loyalties.

"Before, everything was forbidden except the air," said retiree Mohammed Jabbar. "Now, we don't have electricity, we don't have water, but we are free."

'Hungry for this'

Sahad Hashim, manager of the Atlas Cinema, couldn't be more delighted. Because of the lawlessness, he closes at 3 p.m. instead of 11 p.m. But he's still selling 800 of his 50-cent tickets a day -- double his prewar box office.

"People are hungry for this," he said. "If I stayed open later, I could sell even more."

Under Saddam, Hashim cut sexy scenes from his movies to conform with Information Ministry orders. When the Americans took over, he simply spliced them back in.

Ushers with flashlights yelled from orchestra to balcony, searching for seats for the standing-room-only 11 a.m. showing. On the screen, a bare-chested man pawed at a woman wearing only fishnet stockings and a feather boa.

Not all the patrons were happy, however.

"I don't like it. It's forbidden under Islam," said Mohammed Mishan, a 26-year-old Iraqi army lieutenant.

"Then what are you doing here?" a man called as the crowd erupted in laughter. Mishan flushed and stalked off.

A wide selection of titles was available at the DVD market at Tahrir Square. Before the war, the Information Ministry issued a list of prohibited movies, and most others were heavily censored.

Sellers offered uncut versions of old standards and some newer ones as well: One best-seller was "Three Kings," the George Clooney satire about American soldiers in the 1991 Gulf War who loot a stash of Saddam's gold.

At the al-Mutanabi Street book market, Karim Hanash sold "The Diaries of Seki Kheiri," which chronicles the life of a leader of the Iraqi Communist Party. In 2001, he was imprisoned for selling the book.

"I feel much better, but I hope the coalition forces won't repeat the same tragedy and arrest people for selling books," said religious bookseller Jamal Shaker Mohammed, who said he was tortured for three months for selling a banned religious text.

Also for sale on street corners were cases of Amstel beer and bottles of Jack Daniel's whiskey. In recent years, alcohol was forbidden from public places in Iraq.

"Now I am free to do anything I want," said Firaz Sabi, a former tire repairman selling looted bottles of Dewar's scotch by the roadside. "Maybe I'll be free to leave Iraq."