"I was threatened many times because of my hair length," he said, adding that his favorite barber had been shot in the leg for shaving off beards.
Now, he can dress the way he wants, walk alone with a woman on campus or decorate his textbooks with images of his favorite Iraqi pop singer -- Kathem Saher -- pictured in a designer suit talking to a beautiful woman at sunset by a quaint chalet.
When he talked about the men who imposed fear on campus, he refused to say who they were. He answered nervously, "They were from parts of the political parties."
The danger hasn't gone away. The other day, Haidar went to a party on the corniche. They were calling it a prom, and the area was packed. Motorcyclists revved their engines and the students decided to keep the party rolling till midnight. Some sipped cold beer. They even had a band with ouds and drums.
"We thought all the singers and musicians had been killed. We wondered, 'Where did they come from?' " he said with a smile.
Then the sound of gunfire rang out from one of the buildings overlooking the corniche. The students fled in panic. But now they say they are undeterred and will continue to venture out to their corniche.
A friend of Haidar's chimed in: "If someone wants freedom, he has to be ready to pay for it."
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ned.parker@latimes.com
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A special correspondent contributed to this report.
