Tourists from all over the world visit famed bridges in European cities such Paris and Florence where lovers—young and old—attach locks to the fences of the bridge, throwing the keys into the rivers below, signifying the eternity of their love for one another. For a couple months, Iraqis enjoyed a similar initiative, launched by Ayman Karim last autumn in the city of Basra.
Last summer, Karim fell in love and he wanted to create a symbolic way to communicate the depths of his feelings. It was in the heat of an escalating conflict.
“We needed a point of light to make people happy," the 26-year-old Iraqi said. "I was happy, and I wanted to share my love with everyone.”
Meeting his sweetheart on Facebook, their first date took place one afternoon, walking by the Shatt al Arab River. Karim said that the couple quickly fell in love.
Working as a young professional, Karim had past experience organizing local community projects. Together with some friends, he obtained approval from the local government to restore a bridge over the Shatt al Arab. They added wire mesh fencing to the sides of the bridge, providing lovers a place to attach their padlocks—or symbols of their eternal love.
Married couples, new lovers, young, and old all attached their locks after the official launch via a party in September, which included music and poetry. Locks were also added for family members such as brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers. Travelers came from Baghdad and other southern cities to see the bridge and join their locks with the numerous others.
Unfortunately the new initiative was not long-lived, as local conservative groups strongly opposed the project. Karim began receiving threats and his parents, who also disliked the “love-locks,” encouraged him to end the project, fearing for his safety.
One day Karim’s father found a letter shoved under the home’s door reading, “We advise you to stay away from that bridge, it could be dangerous for you.” A bullet was included as well, but Karim remained undeterred.
On Ashura—in November—threats finally turned into actions. Receiving a phone call about a “problem” at the bridge, Karim arrived to find masked men throwing the wire mesh and locks into the river below.
Tourists still trickle into Basra with hopes of seeing the landmark, many having seen photos shared on social media before it was destroyed. They are disappointed to find that the monument no longer exists physically. Yet many locals still refer to it as “the Love Bridge.”
Regardless of ongoing threats and the destruction of his project, Karim plans to rebuild what became such a powerful symbol to him and many others. Referring to the importance of the bridge, he pointed out the necessity of communicating love and kindness, especially in the midst of the current conflict within the country.
The painted words “I miss you” are one of the few remnants of the short-lived Love Bridge. Perhaps these faded sentiments resonate most with the local community and its desire to reinstate the thwarted initiative.