I wanted to take a quick minute to thank the many family members and friends who have sent emails, Skyped, left blog comments, Facebooked or IM'ed since I've been here. It's always wonderful to hear from you, and helps me feel connected to home. I so appreciate the kind words, photos, responses to postings, and general shows of support. I'm glad to be here to show you Iraq through my eyes, and I'm lucky to have you all on the journey with me!
Love to all,
Alisha
Monday, August 31, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
More Women Learners
Today I went to another session of the Women's Inclusion Program. I recently wrote a summary document for the program, which was circulated to someone on Mercy Corps' web team; they contacted me to ask if I would be able to collect some stories from individual women in the program for use on the web, which I was more than happy to do. So I set out to do a few interviews.
I met with three women - one age 17, one 36, and one 60. Their stories were amazing. I'll wait to see what gets up on the Mercy Corps website and post a link here when/if they're available so everyone can read them officially.
When my interviews were done, my Iraqi colleague asked if I would address the class. It was their final session of the 18-month program, and I was glad to offer congratulations. I thanked them, on behalf of Mercy Corps, for their hard work, as we recognize the many obstacles they have faced in their 18 months of learning. I told them how proud we are of their accomplishments, how inspired we are by their courage. I let them know I was there to share their success story with the world, and that people in many countries are watching, full of hope that they will use their knowledge to help create a new Iraq. They watched and listened with such austerity and pride, and immediately applauded when I was done speaking. They all rose and demanded to take a photo together, which I was happy to do. After several pictures, they all took turns hugging and kissing me. "I love you! I love you! I love you!" one young woman, about my age, whispered in my ear as she kissed my cheek. My heart could not have been more overwhelmed with pride and love for these incredible woman. I will cherish this photo always.
I met with three women - one age 17, one 36, and one 60. Their stories were amazing. I'll wait to see what gets up on the Mercy Corps website and post a link here when/if they're available so everyone can read them officially.
When my interviews were done, my Iraqi colleague asked if I would address the class. It was their final session of the 18-month program, and I was glad to offer congratulations. I thanked them, on behalf of Mercy Corps, for their hard work, as we recognize the many obstacles they have faced in their 18 months of learning. I told them how proud we are of their accomplishments, how inspired we are by their courage. I let them know I was there to share their success story with the world, and that people in many countries are watching, full of hope that they will use their knowledge to help create a new Iraq. They watched and listened with such austerity and pride, and immediately applauded when I was done speaking. They all rose and demanded to take a photo together, which I was happy to do. After several pictures, they all took turns hugging and kissing me. "I love you! I love you! I love you!" one young woman, about my age, whispered in my ear as she kissed my cheek. My heart could not have been more overwhelmed with pride and love for these incredible woman. I will cherish this photo always.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Basrah Pics
Here are a few pics of Basrah. These aren't great, as most everything I'm able to take is captured from inside a moving vehicle. Click on photos to enlarge.
Post-conflict rubble. This is everywhere.
Sadrist mosque:
Military checkpoint. These, or police details, are every few blocks.
This used to be a hotel; now it's been taken over by IDPs (internally displaced persons). Most of the balconies are stacked with random collections of items.
Post-conflict rubble. This is everywhere.
Sadrist mosque:
Military checkpoint. These, or police details, are every few blocks.
This used to be a hotel; now it's been taken over by IDPs (internally displaced persons). Most of the balconies are stacked with random collections of items.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Shopping Trip
I managed to get out for a brief shopping trip yesterday. We stopped by a nearby grocery store, which was an odd experience. What a random cornucopia of items arranged in a random order. I did manage to find ice cream (from Turkey) which I was pretty excited about.
Then we stopped by a produce stand, which was lovely. It seems this country only has about six vegetables (tomatoes, cucumbers, eggplant, carrots, okra and bell peppers) but the fruit was quite lovely. We bought a few kilos each of tangerines, grapefruit, black figs, nectarines, carrots, and eggplant ... for the bargain price of 25,000 Iraqi dinars (about $18 US). I thought the stand rather picturesque, and snapped a shot. I was tempted to get a picture of the box in back that read "Washington Apples", too. That was one well-traveled box!
Then we stopped by a produce stand, which was lovely. It seems this country only has about six vegetables (tomatoes, cucumbers, eggplant, carrots, okra and bell peppers) but the fruit was quite lovely. We bought a few kilos each of tangerines, grapefruit, black figs, nectarines, carrots, and eggplant ... for the bargain price of 25,000 Iraqi dinars (about $18 US). I thought the stand rather picturesque, and snapped a shot. I was tempted to get a picture of the box in back that read "Washington Apples", too. That was one well-traveled box!
Sunday, August 23, 2009
The Furry Creature
In my first week here, I discovered that we have a number of feral cats that come in and out of the compound. I soon discovered an incredibly cute kitten that I fell in love with immediately. Like all the feral cats, it was very skittish.
Several nights later, I was walking in the yard and saw it wedged in between a windowpane and some bars on the windows (about a 4" wide spot), just hanging out. Cutest ever. I snagged some kitten-appropriate meat treats from the fridge and thought I'd see what happened. I made some small clicking noises (hard to explain but, you know ... pet sounds) and tossed it a piece of fish. After only a split-second's consideration, it ran and gobbled down the little bite. After five minutes of getting closer and closer, it took some fish out of my hand. Still, it was clearly afraid to come near me and got very nervous of my movements.
Since then, we've made it a little ritual to meet in the garden for a snack every few nights. I walk outside and make my clicking noises, and it comes running and mewing. It's still skittish - tonight it got close enough that I just barely touched its little head, and it streaked halfway across the patio in terror (but came right back). We're working on the whole touching thing, slowly but surely.
Here are a few pics I snapped tonight. Nothing special. Two are a little fuzzy, but it's the only way to eliminate glowing animal eyeballs.
Several nights later, I was walking in the yard and saw it wedged in between a windowpane and some bars on the windows (about a 4" wide spot), just hanging out. Cutest ever. I snagged some kitten-appropriate meat treats from the fridge and thought I'd see what happened. I made some small clicking noises (hard to explain but, you know ... pet sounds) and tossed it a piece of fish. After only a split-second's consideration, it ran and gobbled down the little bite. After five minutes of getting closer and closer, it took some fish out of my hand. Still, it was clearly afraid to come near me and got very nervous of my movements.
Since then, we've made it a little ritual to meet in the garden for a snack every few nights. I walk outside and make my clicking noises, and it comes running and mewing. It's still skittish - tonight it got close enough that I just barely touched its little head, and it streaked halfway across the patio in terror (but came right back). We're working on the whole touching thing, slowly but surely.
Here are a few pics I snapped tonight. Nothing special. Two are a little fuzzy, but it's the only way to eliminate glowing animal eyeballs.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
What a Day!
Yesterday, as part of our visit from our Regional Program Director for the Middle East and Senior Vice President, I was lucky enough to go on a few field visits. It was a fantastic experience (and not just because it was nice to get out of the house).
First, I should explain briefly about the program I'm working on. Mercy Corps has programming throughout Iraq, but the program I work with - our Community Action Program - is based in four governorates (states) in the southernmost part of the country. The CAP program has two key objectives:
First, we work with communities to form Community Action Groups, groups of citizen representatives who advocate for the needs of their communities. These groups get together, identify the most pressing needs affecting their community, come up with ideas for projects, and work with members of Mercy Corps' national staff to develop project proposals. We provide these groups with training on advocacy, project development, basic proposal skills, and ways to seek funding and engage their local government representatives.
The second key objective focuses on good governance; we work with local government entities (district and sub-district councils of elected representatives) to respond effectively to the needs of their communities and to include community-led projects in their annual budgets. They also receive training on effective governance within the framework of the Iraqi government, constituent outreach, budgeting, seeking funding from higher levels of government, etc.
Combined, those two functions ideally help to promote partnerships between civil society ("the people") and government at multiple levels, while providing a variety of benefits to community, from construction or rehabilitation of facilities to transformative activities for youth, women and persons with disabilities.
Yesterday, we had several visits to government groups and project sites that really brought the program's many levels to life. I apologize for the lack of photos, but did at least learn that it's safe and acceptable to tote my camera around and take pictures. Now I know, so there will be photos to come from future trips.
The Al-Zubier District Council
Our first stop was to meet with members of the Al-Zubier District Council. Al-Zubier is a district adjacent to Basrah, with about 750,000 residents. We have implemented a variety of projects in Al-Zubier, from building schools to organizing soccer tournaments.
As we drove out to Al-Zubier, we drove over a canal built in '93 by Saddam, in an effort to source clean water for the citizens of Basrah. He named it for himself, and since his fall the citizens of Basrah have referred to it as the "Leader River". From that vantage, we could see refining towers in the oil fields of Ramallah, made famous during their burning during Gulf War I.
In our hour-long meeting with the council, they thanked us profusely for our work and our support. They praised our local staff, saying that, "they implement projects as if they were building their own houses." Then we listened to their concerns and ideas for ways we can continue working together on projects in the Al-Zubier community.
Education was their primary focus. "You can have a few hours a day without electricity," their chief engineer said, "but you can get that back later in your life. But once a child is grown up and has received no education, you can never get that back." But their interest went beyond just building schools, they said. They were concerned about the shortfalls in the educational system, and wanted to improve it. They said they want to do an assessment of the public school system in the district, to identify areas of weakness, so they could provide training for teachers and administrators to improve those areas. They recognized that to improve the educational system, it would be necessary to build the capacity of its staff. They also asked what other councils were doing, not just in Iraq but everywhere Mercy Corps works. They were interested in seeing what other leaders at their level were doing, what was working, and what they might be missing. We explored the option of a cross-cultural exchange between their council and one in another country where we work. I was so inspired by their progressive, proactive vision for improving their community's most important resource.
At the end of the meeting, they invited us to see two schools. The first was a primary school for girls that we had built in Al-Zubier. School is out for the summer, but we stopped by to look at the building. Before the school was built, many girls in that neighborhood could not attend school, as the nearest primary school was 2 kilometers from their homes - too far to walk for young children. Now, these girls have a facility to learn.
The second school was a high school that had been destroyed during coalition fighting. Many of the teachers in the public school system in Al-Zubier, and even some of the council members, had attended that school. What walls remained were crumbling, and many areas were simply piles of rubble and garbage. We got out of the car and walked to the building, and noticed a clothesline full of drying clothes. A boy about five years old peeked out from a darkened doorway. Soon after, his brothers and sisters emerged from behind old blankets and sheets tacked up against what remained of the building's facade. Soon, we were surrounded by a crowd of six smiling, laughing children, with older ones peering out from their hiding places. The family, internally displaced, had taken refuge inside the abandoned building.
The mother came out and spoke to us. The father was very ill, she said, and could barely move. He could not work, and the family barely had anything to eat. She knew there was a program in the country for families such as theirs, but she had never had any luck getting support. If she came to the Mercy Corps office, she asked, could someone please help her navigate that process of getting government support? Moaid, one of our Community Mobilizers, told her we could help her get the support she needed.
The Vice-Gov's Office
From Al-Zubier, we went to the Governor's Office in downtown Basrah. This is the equivalent of going to Arnold Schwarzenegger's office. Each governor in Iraq has two Vice-Governors, and we met with one of them for an hour, along with several of his ministers.
During that meeting, his minister for Engineering made two requests: Can Mercy Corps buy us a 50-kilowatt generator to power a new water station we've built, and can Mercy Corps help us rehabilitate the central jail in Basrah? The generator was a pretty quick no, as that falls outside the scope of our work here, but our VPs were all over the prison idea. Some of our staff will need to go there to make an assessment, but I'm probably not going to be in on that one. Parading an American woman around an Iraqi prison is probably not a good idea. But talk about things you'd love to say you'd seen!
The minister for Youth made two requests also: To continue our programming focused on soccer, and to implement programs targeting widows and orphans. Apparently Basrah has a large number of widows - an estimated 6,000 - and they need help. Of course, this is an area that lines up perfectly with our mission, and we presented this strategy to the governor's representatives: Give us 2-3 women per 600 widows who have leadership roles in their community and can advocate effectively for their peers. Let's arrange meetings between them and our Community Mobilizers, so they can identify community needs and let us know what their priorities are. We'll get to work developing projects once they tell us what needs to be done.
I was somewhat surprised at the different experiences. Initially, I'd have guessed that the roles would've been reversed, that a district council would be the one asking for tangible things, while a governorate would be looking to us for strategy and more sustainable ideas for community improvement. It was really a testament to our staff's work, and the training sessions they've held for local government officials, that the council in Al-Zubier was so forward-thinking.
The Women's Literacy Class
Later that evening, we stopped by a session of our Women's Inclusion Program. In this program, illiterate women and children are able to begin an 18-month program in basic literacy, including reading, writing and arithmetic. By the time they complete the program, they are prepared to sit for primary school exams. If I remember correctly, we have established about 125 centers where women can come and learn.
This center was located in a run-down school. The screens were shredded off the windows, the room was not air-conditioned and extremely hot, and the 60 or so women and girls were crowded into a tiny 10x10' room, 3 or 4 to a bench. They ranged from age four to age 60, and were in their final class of the program.
We were introduced to the group, and one of our staff translated a question to them: "How has this program changed your life?" Immediately, a beautiful, precocious-looking girl of about 13 shot out of her seat with her hand in the air. "Before this program it was like I was blind. Everywhere I went, I didn't know what I was seeing. Now that I can read, I can see." Someone called out, "I can teach my children to read and write, and I can help the older ones with their schoolwork." Another woman, about 40 years old, stood up and said, "I used to go to the market and would have to ask a shop owner for the price of items. Because I had to ask, he would say to himself, 'This is an illiterate woman,' and he'd quote me a higher price. Now that I can read the prices of items myself, I get a better price because the bartering starts lower."
Our colleague asked how many women were planning to vote in the elections in January. Almost every hand in the room was raised.
The teacher - a small, energetic woman of about 30 - invited us to sit and listen to their lesson. The class had just finished writing down what "human rights" meant to them. They resumed the lesson by bringing their definitions up to the front of the room and taping them on the blackboard. When all had finished, the teacher began reading them aloud:
"My children will be free and can get an education"
"I can find a job"
"Everyone will have enough to eat"
"We will be able to vote"
We rose, and through our colleague's translation, conveyed our congratulations to these women, and our pride at what they had accomplished. I cannot imagine people more brave, who have overcome so much, as the women in that room. To simply attend one class would be full of obstacles: they would have to summon the courage to accept their illiteracy and decide to make a change. They would have to convince their husbands, their fathers, their brothers, their uncles to let them leave the house to go to a class where they'd learn skills to be independent and exercise their intellect. They'd have to show up every week, after completing all their household responsibilities, and have the resolve to master the challenge of learning to read and write, their first academic pursuit of any kind.
It was hard not to cry as I looked at their faces, young and old, and know that, given the chance, the women in that room were the seeds of a new Iraq. Let us hope they have the freedom and the inclination to flourish, to be empowered by their newfound knowledge, and to finally be able to stand up and help bring their country to relative peace and stability.
First, I should explain briefly about the program I'm working on. Mercy Corps has programming throughout Iraq, but the program I work with - our Community Action Program - is based in four governorates (states) in the southernmost part of the country. The CAP program has two key objectives:
First, we work with communities to form Community Action Groups, groups of citizen representatives who advocate for the needs of their communities. These groups get together, identify the most pressing needs affecting their community, come up with ideas for projects, and work with members of Mercy Corps' national staff to develop project proposals. We provide these groups with training on advocacy, project development, basic proposal skills, and ways to seek funding and engage their local government representatives.
The second key objective focuses on good governance; we work with local government entities (district and sub-district councils of elected representatives) to respond effectively to the needs of their communities and to include community-led projects in their annual budgets. They also receive training on effective governance within the framework of the Iraqi government, constituent outreach, budgeting, seeking funding from higher levels of government, etc.
Combined, those two functions ideally help to promote partnerships between civil society ("the people") and government at multiple levels, while providing a variety of benefits to community, from construction or rehabilitation of facilities to transformative activities for youth, women and persons with disabilities.
Yesterday, we had several visits to government groups and project sites that really brought the program's many levels to life. I apologize for the lack of photos, but did at least learn that it's safe and acceptable to tote my camera around and take pictures. Now I know, so there will be photos to come from future trips.
The Al-Zubier District Council
Our first stop was to meet with members of the Al-Zubier District Council. Al-Zubier is a district adjacent to Basrah, with about 750,000 residents. We have implemented a variety of projects in Al-Zubier, from building schools to organizing soccer tournaments.
As we drove out to Al-Zubier, we drove over a canal built in '93 by Saddam, in an effort to source clean water for the citizens of Basrah. He named it for himself, and since his fall the citizens of Basrah have referred to it as the "Leader River". From that vantage, we could see refining towers in the oil fields of Ramallah, made famous during their burning during Gulf War I.
In our hour-long meeting with the council, they thanked us profusely for our work and our support. They praised our local staff, saying that, "they implement projects as if they were building their own houses." Then we listened to their concerns and ideas for ways we can continue working together on projects in the Al-Zubier community.
Education was their primary focus. "You can have a few hours a day without electricity," their chief engineer said, "but you can get that back later in your life. But once a child is grown up and has received no education, you can never get that back." But their interest went beyond just building schools, they said. They were concerned about the shortfalls in the educational system, and wanted to improve it. They said they want to do an assessment of the public school system in the district, to identify areas of weakness, so they could provide training for teachers and administrators to improve those areas. They recognized that to improve the educational system, it would be necessary to build the capacity of its staff. They also asked what other councils were doing, not just in Iraq but everywhere Mercy Corps works. They were interested in seeing what other leaders at their level were doing, what was working, and what they might be missing. We explored the option of a cross-cultural exchange between their council and one in another country where we work. I was so inspired by their progressive, proactive vision for improving their community's most important resource.
At the end of the meeting, they invited us to see two schools. The first was a primary school for girls that we had built in Al-Zubier. School is out for the summer, but we stopped by to look at the building. Before the school was built, many girls in that neighborhood could not attend school, as the nearest primary school was 2 kilometers from their homes - too far to walk for young children. Now, these girls have a facility to learn.
The second school was a high school that had been destroyed during coalition fighting. Many of the teachers in the public school system in Al-Zubier, and even some of the council members, had attended that school. What walls remained were crumbling, and many areas were simply piles of rubble and garbage. We got out of the car and walked to the building, and noticed a clothesline full of drying clothes. A boy about five years old peeked out from a darkened doorway. Soon after, his brothers and sisters emerged from behind old blankets and sheets tacked up against what remained of the building's facade. Soon, we were surrounded by a crowd of six smiling, laughing children, with older ones peering out from their hiding places. The family, internally displaced, had taken refuge inside the abandoned building.
The mother came out and spoke to us. The father was very ill, she said, and could barely move. He could not work, and the family barely had anything to eat. She knew there was a program in the country for families such as theirs, but she had never had any luck getting support. If she came to the Mercy Corps office, she asked, could someone please help her navigate that process of getting government support? Moaid, one of our Community Mobilizers, told her we could help her get the support she needed.
The Vice-Gov's Office
From Al-Zubier, we went to the Governor's Office in downtown Basrah. This is the equivalent of going to Arnold Schwarzenegger's office. Each governor in Iraq has two Vice-Governors, and we met with one of them for an hour, along with several of his ministers.
During that meeting, his minister for Engineering made two requests: Can Mercy Corps buy us a 50-kilowatt generator to power a new water station we've built, and can Mercy Corps help us rehabilitate the central jail in Basrah? The generator was a pretty quick no, as that falls outside the scope of our work here, but our VPs were all over the prison idea. Some of our staff will need to go there to make an assessment, but I'm probably not going to be in on that one. Parading an American woman around an Iraqi prison is probably not a good idea. But talk about things you'd love to say you'd seen!
The minister for Youth made two requests also: To continue our programming focused on soccer, and to implement programs targeting widows and orphans. Apparently Basrah has a large number of widows - an estimated 6,000 - and they need help. Of course, this is an area that lines up perfectly with our mission, and we presented this strategy to the governor's representatives: Give us 2-3 women per 600 widows who have leadership roles in their community and can advocate effectively for their peers. Let's arrange meetings between them and our Community Mobilizers, so they can identify community needs and let us know what their priorities are. We'll get to work developing projects once they tell us what needs to be done.
I was somewhat surprised at the different experiences. Initially, I'd have guessed that the roles would've been reversed, that a district council would be the one asking for tangible things, while a governorate would be looking to us for strategy and more sustainable ideas for community improvement. It was really a testament to our staff's work, and the training sessions they've held for local government officials, that the council in Al-Zubier was so forward-thinking.
The Women's Literacy Class
Later that evening, we stopped by a session of our Women's Inclusion Program. In this program, illiterate women and children are able to begin an 18-month program in basic literacy, including reading, writing and arithmetic. By the time they complete the program, they are prepared to sit for primary school exams. If I remember correctly, we have established about 125 centers where women can come and learn.
This center was located in a run-down school. The screens were shredded off the windows, the room was not air-conditioned and extremely hot, and the 60 or so women and girls were crowded into a tiny 10x10' room, 3 or 4 to a bench. They ranged from age four to age 60, and were in their final class of the program.
We were introduced to the group, and one of our staff translated a question to them: "How has this program changed your life?" Immediately, a beautiful, precocious-looking girl of about 13 shot out of her seat with her hand in the air. "Before this program it was like I was blind. Everywhere I went, I didn't know what I was seeing. Now that I can read, I can see." Someone called out, "I can teach my children to read and write, and I can help the older ones with their schoolwork." Another woman, about 40 years old, stood up and said, "I used to go to the market and would have to ask a shop owner for the price of items. Because I had to ask, he would say to himself, 'This is an illiterate woman,' and he'd quote me a higher price. Now that I can read the prices of items myself, I get a better price because the bartering starts lower."
Our colleague asked how many women were planning to vote in the elections in January. Almost every hand in the room was raised.
The teacher - a small, energetic woman of about 30 - invited us to sit and listen to their lesson. The class had just finished writing down what "human rights" meant to them. They resumed the lesson by bringing their definitions up to the front of the room and taping them on the blackboard. When all had finished, the teacher began reading them aloud:
"My children will be free and can get an education"
"I can find a job"
"Everyone will have enough to eat"
"We will be able to vote"
We rose, and through our colleague's translation, conveyed our congratulations to these women, and our pride at what they had accomplished. I cannot imagine people more brave, who have overcome so much, as the women in that room. To simply attend one class would be full of obstacles: they would have to summon the courage to accept their illiteracy and decide to make a change. They would have to convince their husbands, their fathers, their brothers, their uncles to let them leave the house to go to a class where they'd learn skills to be independent and exercise their intellect. They'd have to show up every week, after completing all their household responsibilities, and have the resolve to master the challenge of learning to read and write, their first academic pursuit of any kind.
It was hard not to cry as I looked at their faces, young and old, and know that, given the chance, the women in that room were the seeds of a new Iraq. Let us hope they have the freedom and the inclination to flourish, to be empowered by their newfound knowledge, and to finally be able to stand up and help bring their country to relative peace and stability.
Well, That Was Close ...
NY Times: Iranian Arms Seized in Iraq, Officials Say
Well, maybe a good thing I wasn't staying on the base, after all.
Well, maybe a good thing I wasn't staying on the base, after all.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
The War of Freedom
This week, our Senior Vice President for all of Mercy Corps' global programs made a three-day stop in Basrah. As part of a presentation, our Deputy Head of Office - an Iraqi national - gave a brief overview of Basrah's history for the past several decades. Hearing his candid perspective on the state of the Iraqi republic was a real privilege. I am impressed at how frank and forthcoming my colleagues have been as they share their experiences in Iraq new and old. Here is a brief paraphrase of what Eyada told us:
"Basrah was always a prosperous city, as it is the country's only port and sits on large oil reserves. While Baghdad is Iraq's political capital, Basrah is its economic one. In the 1970s, life was good in Iraq. The country was safe and politically stable, and people had jobs and were easily able to feed their families. When the Iran-Iraq war happened, things became somewhat difficult but were still okay. At the time, the people of Iraq and throughout the Middle East saw Saddam Hussein as a hero and a great leader. But then Iraq invaded Kuwait, and everything changed. The economy went bad, corruption was rampant, and many people found themselves out of work and living in poverty.
It was at this point that the popular opinion of Saddam became very negative. After the war, it only got worse. We no longer trusted him, and he put our country in a very bad situation. It was only in our dreams that we could envision an Iraq free of his corrupt dictatorship. But our dreams came true when we watched the statue of Saddam topple in 2003. For the first time, we had hope for a free Iraq. And this is why I call that time the War of Freedom - because it was the beginning of making our country truly free."
Eyada is, by many accounts, a perfectly average Iraqi: he is Sunni, he is middle-class and well educated. Many of us in America have a tendency to believe that the average Iraqi might not have supported our operations in their country, viewed us as invaders, exploiters, colonialists. It could only be oppressed Shi'a or impoverished, disenfranchised citizens who would cheer regime change regardless of the morals or the consequences. Eyada is none of those things; he is simply an Iraqi citizen who saw what his country had become, and knew that its people deserved better.
I am trying to decide what my stance is on the US-led operations here, whether I think it was right or wrong, whether it was justified, or whether the ends justified the means. I don't suppose I'll ever have an answer, because there are too many convincing arguments on both sides. But at the very least, it gives me hope to know that there are Iraqis out there who feel that their lives, and their country, have been improved by what has taken place in the last six years. Right or wrong, I hope it has set the stage for positive change ... for a new Iraq. And I hope our work, through the 81 courageous, dedicated members of our national staff, is helping to bring that new Iraq to life.
"Basrah was always a prosperous city, as it is the country's only port and sits on large oil reserves. While Baghdad is Iraq's political capital, Basrah is its economic one. In the 1970s, life was good in Iraq. The country was safe and politically stable, and people had jobs and were easily able to feed their families. When the Iran-Iraq war happened, things became somewhat difficult but were still okay. At the time, the people of Iraq and throughout the Middle East saw Saddam Hussein as a hero and a great leader. But then Iraq invaded Kuwait, and everything changed. The economy went bad, corruption was rampant, and many people found themselves out of work and living in poverty.
It was at this point that the popular opinion of Saddam became very negative. After the war, it only got worse. We no longer trusted him, and he put our country in a very bad situation. It was only in our dreams that we could envision an Iraq free of his corrupt dictatorship. But our dreams came true when we watched the statue of Saddam topple in 2003. For the first time, we had hope for a free Iraq. And this is why I call that time the War of Freedom - because it was the beginning of making our country truly free."
Eyada is, by many accounts, a perfectly average Iraqi: he is Sunni, he is middle-class and well educated. Many of us in America have a tendency to believe that the average Iraqi might not have supported our operations in their country, viewed us as invaders, exploiters, colonialists. It could only be oppressed Shi'a or impoverished, disenfranchised citizens who would cheer regime change regardless of the morals or the consequences. Eyada is none of those things; he is simply an Iraqi citizen who saw what his country had become, and knew that its people deserved better.
I am trying to decide what my stance is on the US-led operations here, whether I think it was right or wrong, whether it was justified, or whether the ends justified the means. I don't suppose I'll ever have an answer, because there are too many convincing arguments on both sides. But at the very least, it gives me hope to know that there are Iraqis out there who feel that their lives, and their country, have been improved by what has taken place in the last six years. Right or wrong, I hope it has set the stage for positive change ... for a new Iraq. And I hope our work, through the 81 courageous, dedicated members of our national staff, is helping to bring that new Iraq to life.
Monday, August 17, 2009
So, what's it like over there?
Over the past few weeks I've had a number of great questions from family and friends about life here in Basrah. I thought I'd take a few minutes for a little Q&A. Here goes.
How hot is it there, anyway?
Most days, the temperature ranges from 110-115 degrees Fahrenheit. It usually hits 100 by around 9:00 am. At night, it cools down to 80-90 degrees (wow!). This will last through September, and it will gradually begin to cool down, with lows in January reaching the 50s-60s.
Um ... I hope you have air conditioning, then?
Yes, thank goodness - air conditioning and ceiling fans in every room. More often than not, I'm too cold in the house. But the A/C doesn't stay off for very long ...
How's the water?
Salty and stinky! Basrah's main water source is the Shatt al-Arab, the waterway that connects the Tigris and Euphrates rivers to the Persian Gulf. The Shatt is quite polluted; it's got high levels of saline and fecal coliform bacteria, and some radioactive waste thrown in for good measure. We don't drink it - ever - and rarely use it for cooking. It leaves salt spots on dishes, and rusts metal after a while. I have been daring enough to cook pasta in it and brush my teeth with it ... and haven't gotten sick yet.
Do you get hot showers?
Nope. My typical morning shower is tepid and low in water pressure. The salt content of the water, plus the heat, is great for skin and hair! Yes, I am craving a blasting hot shower already (despite above comments about hot temperatures).
How dangerous is it there? Are you staying safe?
Well, the answer is, it's dangerous. Iraq is obviously very politically unstable still - I don't need to tell any of you that. Basrah itself is relatively safer than many other cities, thanks to a coordinated effort in 2008-2009 by the Iraqi military and police, and some support from coalition forces. Previously, the city was a hotbed for subversive groups (Sadrist supporters, Al-Qaeda, you name it) but it was thoroughly cleaned out and has become much more secure, peaceful and free since then. In addition, its population is overwhelmingly Shi'a, which has minimized some of the sectarian violence that has plagued other cities to the north in recent weeks.
But, that's not to say it's without risks. As expatriates, we're at an increased risk of becoming targets for kidnapping or attacks, simply by virtue of our nationalities and our affiliation with a US-based nonprofit operating in Iraq. As a result, we attempt to keep VERY under the radar. Trips outside of our housing compound are extremely limited, and always with specific purpose and under heavy security. The compound has high walls with barbed wire, we have guards on duty 24/7/365, and other security measures in place. In addition, the principle of community acceptance really guides our security strategy. By building positive relationships within the community, we earn their trust, their respect, and therefore, their protection. It's a foundational security principle for Mercy Corps, and one that has led to a clean record of employee security for the agency.
What do you wear there?
Because I'm often interacting with our national staff, I dress conservatively in the office: loose pants or long skirts and comfortable shirts. I've started feeling comfortable enough to wear short sleeves, and this doesn't seem to be a problem. The women on our national staff all dress very conservatively, long dresses or skirts, long sleeves, and always a hijab. I don't have to go quite that far, but I am conservative out of respect. Out of the house, I always wear a hijab, and long loose pants with a tunic and long sleeves.
What's the food like over there?
A decent variety of food products is available here - we've got Cocoa Pops in our kitchen (not mine, Mom, I swear!). But I am craving cheddar cheese. And vegetables. Fresh food items are more limited, as most things are grown locally or come short distances (a lot from Kuwait). I'm already sick of tomatoes and cucumbers, and I really miss lettuce and American summer fruits like peaches and berries. But I've grown fond of the dates that grow on a palm in our yard, and our cook brings wonderful fresh-baked bread every morning. The ice cream here is unbelievable - the milk has a slight raw tang to it, and my favorite security guy, Dia, always brings the kind with fresh pistachio mixed in.
Lunch is a variation on the same theme, every day: basmati rice, with a tomato broth-based stew with small amounts of meat and vegetables. Some days lamb, some days beef, some days chicken, some days ... mystery meat. Always a salad of tomatoes and cucumbers, bread, and dates. Dinner is a little bit more varied; we have a lineup of about five meals: baked fish (masgouf, the Iraqi national dish), shawarma (shaved, rotisseried leg of lamb mixed with onions and a little vinegar, similar to a gyro), kefta (ground lamb or beef shaped into kebabs), rotisserie chicken and ... I think that's about it. Sometimes there's liver; sometimes there's kidney. Sometimes when there's liver and kidney I cook for myself.
Are there, like, big creepy bugs and stuff?
Thank goodness, the answer to that is no. It's too dry for mosquitoes, shockingly there are no cockroaches (I saw one baby one, that's it), I have not seen giant spiders as anticipated, and even the flies are pretty small. There are lots of ants - big ones, small ones - but they don't seem to bite or infest the house much. The only things I see with regularity are geckos, birds, and stray cats.
What's your typical day like? What do you do in your free time?
I get up around 7:15, take a quick shower (yeah, see above), make myself some breakfast, and get to my desk at 8:00. Work til 1:00, have an hour for lunch, and work until around 6:00. During the evening, I fill my time by running on the rickety treadmill in our hot upstairs hallway, making dinner when I'm so inclined, reading, watching DVDs or the couple of American movie/TV channels available here (with Arabic subtitles!), or playing Scrabble on Facebook. The time goes very quickly, much to my surprise.
What do you miss most about home?
- My family
- My friends; in particular my Mercy Corps girls
- Green trees, green grass
- Mild temperatures
- Hot showers
- Makeup!
- The freedom to go out and do, see, wear, buy whatever I want
- Driving a car
- Fresh produce
- Good mattresses and quality sheets
- The Pacific Northwest landscape, and running around in it
- My bike, my skis and my hiking shoes
- Alcohol (no, really)
How hot is it there, anyway?
Most days, the temperature ranges from 110-115 degrees Fahrenheit. It usually hits 100 by around 9:00 am. At night, it cools down to 80-90 degrees (wow!). This will last through September, and it will gradually begin to cool down, with lows in January reaching the 50s-60s.
Um ... I hope you have air conditioning, then?
Yes, thank goodness - air conditioning and ceiling fans in every room. More often than not, I'm too cold in the house. But the A/C doesn't stay off for very long ...
How's the water?
Salty and stinky! Basrah's main water source is the Shatt al-Arab, the waterway that connects the Tigris and Euphrates rivers to the Persian Gulf. The Shatt is quite polluted; it's got high levels of saline and fecal coliform bacteria, and some radioactive waste thrown in for good measure. We don't drink it - ever - and rarely use it for cooking. It leaves salt spots on dishes, and rusts metal after a while. I have been daring enough to cook pasta in it and brush my teeth with it ... and haven't gotten sick yet.
Do you get hot showers?
Nope. My typical morning shower is tepid and low in water pressure. The salt content of the water, plus the heat, is great for skin and hair! Yes, I am craving a blasting hot shower already (despite above comments about hot temperatures).
How dangerous is it there? Are you staying safe?
Well, the answer is, it's dangerous. Iraq is obviously very politically unstable still - I don't need to tell any of you that. Basrah itself is relatively safer than many other cities, thanks to a coordinated effort in 2008-2009 by the Iraqi military and police, and some support from coalition forces. Previously, the city was a hotbed for subversive groups (Sadrist supporters, Al-Qaeda, you name it) but it was thoroughly cleaned out and has become much more secure, peaceful and free since then. In addition, its population is overwhelmingly Shi'a, which has minimized some of the sectarian violence that has plagued other cities to the north in recent weeks.
But, that's not to say it's without risks. As expatriates, we're at an increased risk of becoming targets for kidnapping or attacks, simply by virtue of our nationalities and our affiliation with a US-based nonprofit operating in Iraq. As a result, we attempt to keep VERY under the radar. Trips outside of our housing compound are extremely limited, and always with specific purpose and under heavy security. The compound has high walls with barbed wire, we have guards on duty 24/7/365, and other security measures in place. In addition, the principle of community acceptance really guides our security strategy. By building positive relationships within the community, we earn their trust, their respect, and therefore, their protection. It's a foundational security principle for Mercy Corps, and one that has led to a clean record of employee security for the agency.
What do you wear there?
Because I'm often interacting with our national staff, I dress conservatively in the office: loose pants or long skirts and comfortable shirts. I've started feeling comfortable enough to wear short sleeves, and this doesn't seem to be a problem. The women on our national staff all dress very conservatively, long dresses or skirts, long sleeves, and always a hijab. I don't have to go quite that far, but I am conservative out of respect. Out of the house, I always wear a hijab, and long loose pants with a tunic and long sleeves.
What's the food like over there?
A decent variety of food products is available here - we've got Cocoa Pops in our kitchen (not mine, Mom, I swear!). But I am craving cheddar cheese. And vegetables. Fresh food items are more limited, as most things are grown locally or come short distances (a lot from Kuwait). I'm already sick of tomatoes and cucumbers, and I really miss lettuce and American summer fruits like peaches and berries. But I've grown fond of the dates that grow on a palm in our yard, and our cook brings wonderful fresh-baked bread every morning. The ice cream here is unbelievable - the milk has a slight raw tang to it, and my favorite security guy, Dia, always brings the kind with fresh pistachio mixed in.
Lunch is a variation on the same theme, every day: basmati rice, with a tomato broth-based stew with small amounts of meat and vegetables. Some days lamb, some days beef, some days chicken, some days ... mystery meat. Always a salad of tomatoes and cucumbers, bread, and dates. Dinner is a little bit more varied; we have a lineup of about five meals: baked fish (masgouf, the Iraqi national dish), shawarma (shaved, rotisseried leg of lamb mixed with onions and a little vinegar, similar to a gyro), kefta (ground lamb or beef shaped into kebabs), rotisserie chicken and ... I think that's about it. Sometimes there's liver; sometimes there's kidney. Sometimes when there's liver and kidney I cook for myself.
Are there, like, big creepy bugs and stuff?
Thank goodness, the answer to that is no. It's too dry for mosquitoes, shockingly there are no cockroaches (I saw one baby one, that's it), I have not seen giant spiders as anticipated, and even the flies are pretty small. There are lots of ants - big ones, small ones - but they don't seem to bite or infest the house much. The only things I see with regularity are geckos, birds, and stray cats.
What's your typical day like? What do you do in your free time?
I get up around 7:15, take a quick shower (yeah, see above), make myself some breakfast, and get to my desk at 8:00. Work til 1:00, have an hour for lunch, and work until around 6:00. During the evening, I fill my time by running on the rickety treadmill in our hot upstairs hallway, making dinner when I'm so inclined, reading, watching DVDs or the couple of American movie/TV channels available here (with Arabic subtitles!), or playing Scrabble on Facebook. The time goes very quickly, much to my surprise.
What do you miss most about home?
- My family
- My friends; in particular my Mercy Corps girls
- Green trees, green grass
- Mild temperatures
- Hot showers
- Makeup!
- The freedom to go out and do, see, wear, buy whatever I want
- Driving a car
- Fresh produce
- Good mattresses and quality sheets
- The Pacific Northwest landscape, and running around in it
- My bike, my skis and my hiking shoes
- Alcohol (no, really)
Friday, August 14, 2009
"Now, We Can Listen to Music."
Several nights ago, I was sitting in the garden working on making friends with my favorite feral kitten, aided by a bowl of leftover fish. (Pictures soon)
It was about 8:30 and one of our national staff came outside for a break from a late night at the office. We chatted a bit, and I noticed the sound of music, drums, whistles, and yelling and cheering from up the street. I had heard this combination of sounds on a fairly regular basis since arriving, and had always wondered what it meant. So I asked my colleague Sa'ad what the noise was all about.
"It's a wedding," he said. "There is a reception hall at the end of the street where people have weddings." I didn't think much of it, but he continued, "This is new, only in the last three months, to hear this kind of thing. Before, it was not allowed." I was surprised that merry-making, even at weddings, had been outlawed and too dangerous when militias were running the city, and so recently at that. "Yes," he continued, "It was very bad for a while. But it is getting better. Now, we can listen to music."
It was about 8:30 and one of our national staff came outside for a break from a late night at the office. We chatted a bit, and I noticed the sound of music, drums, whistles, and yelling and cheering from up the street. I had heard this combination of sounds on a fairly regular basis since arriving, and had always wondered what it meant. So I asked my colleague Sa'ad what the noise was all about.
"It's a wedding," he said. "There is a reception hall at the end of the street where people have weddings." I didn't think much of it, but he continued, "This is new, only in the last three months, to hear this kind of thing. Before, it was not allowed." I was surprised that merry-making, even at weddings, had been outlawed and too dangerous when militias were running the city, and so recently at that. "Yes," he continued, "It was very bad for a while. But it is getting better. Now, we can listen to music."
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
In Pursuit of Iraqi Residency
I spent the greater part of my morning yesterday running around Basrah taking care of things to facilitate my application for residency in Iraq. Expats living and working in country are required to submit a resident application within ten days of arrival. If granted, it's valid for one year and allows entry and exit to the country without need of visas.
First step was having passport photos taken ... wearing hijab. I'm not posting. White people don't look good in hijab, is my conclusion.
Next stop was the Department of Public Health in Basrah town. But first, we had to drive to a clinic to meet a doctor who is a friend of one of our national staff. The doctor sent a staff member in the clinic to accompany us to the Department of Public Health. We arrived, wound through the bowels of the old, dark building, and swiftly bypassed a crowd of people. Our liaison took my passport and had my health application stamped and signed within minutes. Next step was a blood sample (for what purpose, I'm not entirely sure). Yes, motherly types and worrywarts, I had my MPH hat on and watched them remove the syringe from its wrapper. Off I went, with a fun stamp in my passport that indicates my acquiescence to the bloodletting and eligibility for residency. From there, our security chief will take my documents to the Ministry of Immigration and do the rest.
First step was having passport photos taken ... wearing hijab. I'm not posting. White people don't look good in hijab, is my conclusion.
Next stop was the Department of Public Health in Basrah town. But first, we had to drive to a clinic to meet a doctor who is a friend of one of our national staff. The doctor sent a staff member in the clinic to accompany us to the Department of Public Health. We arrived, wound through the bowels of the old, dark building, and swiftly bypassed a crowd of people. Our liaison took my passport and had my health application stamped and signed within minutes. Next step was a blood sample (for what purpose, I'm not entirely sure). Yes, motherly types and worrywarts, I had my MPH hat on and watched them remove the syringe from its wrapper. Off I went, with a fun stamp in my passport that indicates my acquiescence to the bloodletting and eligibility for residency. From there, our security chief will take my documents to the Ministry of Immigration and do the rest.
The Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan
A few photos from my brief visit to Amman. There are a few of the Roman Theatre, circa 169-177 AD, built during the reign of Marcus Aurelius. Amman was one of the six central cities of the Roman empire, then called Philadelphia. The theatre is carved out of the side of a hill, and seats up to 6,000 people. It is still used today for concerts and performances, and apparently has fantastic acoustics.
Inside the adjacent tunnels is the Jordan Museum of Antiquities and Popular Culture. They have lots of artifacts from the region, including old native dress from different tribes, jewelry and headwear, pottery, and more. The mosaics pictured are from the Church of St. John the Baptist in Jerash (80 miles north of Amman), constructed in 531 AD.
I'm looking forward to my next stop in Amman to visit the Citadel, more extensive Roman ruins on the city's tallest hill.
Inside the adjacent tunnels is the Jordan Museum of Antiquities and Popular Culture. They have lots of artifacts from the region, including old native dress from different tribes, jewelry and headwear, pottery, and more. The mosaics pictured are from the Church of St. John the Baptist in Jerash (80 miles north of Amman), constructed in 531 AD.
I'm looking forward to my next stop in Amman to visit the Citadel, more extensive Roman ruins on the city's tallest hill.
The Resurfacing
So, I'm long overdue for a blog post. Have been busy getting settled into my work and living arrangements, but here I am. This is going to be a long one ...
I started out my adventure with a few days in Amman, Jordan. I had a day of sightseeing and a day in our office there. Will post a few pics from my day out on the town, spent checking out some Roman ruins and a local suq (market).
I was fortunate to meet up with our Regional Finance Manager for the Middle East, Ghelda, while I was there. She is Lebanese (an Arabic speaker) and an old hand at Mercy Corps. We traveled to Basrah together and she helped me get situated, with everything from airport security and obtaining my visa, to getting acclimated in our office and lodgings. Don't know how I'd have done it without her.
One of our mantras at Mercy Corps is to always be flexible, because nothing ever turns out as you expect it to. I was warned that this is especially true when in the field, and this proved true from minute one. Upon arrival, I learned that I was not living in a private trailer on the air base, but in our guest house in Basrah city proper. Also, I learned that the one woman and other American I was told I'd be working with was both out of town for a training, and will be leaving Iraq in the coming weeks/months. Everything I'd prepared myself for turned out not to be true.
So, what's it like? We have a large house - allegedly a million-dollar home in Iraq - where our expatriate staff lives and works, which adjoins another house where our 40-some national staff work. The houses are in a walled compound with barbed wire, and we have four or more guards (un-armed) on duty at all times. Security is taken extremely seriously so as to keep our presence under the radar and keep us from becoming a target of kidnapping or attack. We cannot leave the house unless accompanied by our security staff, and only for very specific purposes. When I leave the compound, I dress extremely conservatively and wear a hijab.
... Not that anybody would really want to go out in Basrah, anyway. Wherever you are, it's clear that you're in a country at war. I don't say they're in recovery or in a post-conflict situation; Iraq is still very much at war in my opinion. You don't go more than a few blocks or half a mile before running into an Iraqi army checkpoint, with men in fatigues standing next to armed Humvees or tanks. Buildings are run down and garbage is everywhere in the streets, many shops are still abandoned, and in many neighborhoods, shacks are constructed from scrap metal, dirty blankets, decaying wood pallets and stolen slabs of concrete rubble.
The main city streets are always packed, full of dilapidated cars, pickup trucks with beds full of scrawny cattle, donkey carts, and motorcycles. Stoplights and lanes are nonexistent, and kids weave between stopped cars hawking boxes of tissue, bottled water and bootleg CDs - a common overseas occurrence. Men walk around in any manner of dress, from fashionable European-style jeans and tshirts to long white thawbs and the keffiyeh (long men's headscarf). Meanwhile, the vast majority of women wear the long black abaya; those who don't dress extremely conservatively, with long, loose clothes from head to foot and always a hijab. I haven't seen one woman in Western dress or with uncovered hair since arriving.
My housemates are all men: two Sudanese and one Kenyan. Each is at least 40, and they all have families living in other countries. With that kind of company, it's going to be pretty quiet around here, that's for sure. Our cook and housekeeping staff are all Iraqi men - women would not be appropriate given there are men living in the house - and we're learning to not be quite so awkward around each other. I still feel like a ridiculous American woman around them most of the time.
For a million-dollar house, our living arrangements are very basic. The house is run-down; despite being in a wealthy neighborhood, it has clearly not been kept up over the years. But how can you feel a pride of ownership when everything in your country is inaccessible and can be lost at a moment's notice? It is amazing, the many ways the years of fighting and Ba'ath rule have impacted the consciousness and thinking of the people subject to it. But, I digress. By local standards we're living very well - I have the basic comforts in my room: TV, DVD player, desk with internet for my computer, etc. I've been amazed there aren't more bugs and other intruders - the most common visitors from the animal kingdom are small, sand-colored geckos with black eyes. I'm fond of them when they show up skittering around the house. We also have a little pack of stray cats that comes into the yard; I'm trying to befriend a small tiger-striped kitten if it'll let me.
The work is extremely fulfilling already, and my plate hasn't even begun to fill up. The particulars deserve their own post, to come soon. In my first week of being overwhelmed, lonely and missing my family, I had only to think of the millions of people in this country - and those we serve and try to help - whose lives are torn apart by conflict every day. My situation seemed idyllic by comparison, putting everything quickly into perspective. I am eager to get out into these communities to meet our Iraqi partners face to face.
That's all for now. Thanks to all who have emailed, called, Skyped and Facebooked ... I miss you all.
I started out my adventure with a few days in Amman, Jordan. I had a day of sightseeing and a day in our office there. Will post a few pics from my day out on the town, spent checking out some Roman ruins and a local suq (market).
I was fortunate to meet up with our Regional Finance Manager for the Middle East, Ghelda, while I was there. She is Lebanese (an Arabic speaker) and an old hand at Mercy Corps. We traveled to Basrah together and she helped me get situated, with everything from airport security and obtaining my visa, to getting acclimated in our office and lodgings. Don't know how I'd have done it without her.
One of our mantras at Mercy Corps is to always be flexible, because nothing ever turns out as you expect it to. I was warned that this is especially true when in the field, and this proved true from minute one. Upon arrival, I learned that I was not living in a private trailer on the air base, but in our guest house in Basrah city proper. Also, I learned that the one woman and other American I was told I'd be working with was both out of town for a training, and will be leaving Iraq in the coming weeks/months. Everything I'd prepared myself for turned out not to be true.
So, what's it like? We have a large house - allegedly a million-dollar home in Iraq - where our expatriate staff lives and works, which adjoins another house where our 40-some national staff work. The houses are in a walled compound with barbed wire, and we have four or more guards (un-armed) on duty at all times. Security is taken extremely seriously so as to keep our presence under the radar and keep us from becoming a target of kidnapping or attack. We cannot leave the house unless accompanied by our security staff, and only for very specific purposes. When I leave the compound, I dress extremely conservatively and wear a hijab.
... Not that anybody would really want to go out in Basrah, anyway. Wherever you are, it's clear that you're in a country at war. I don't say they're in recovery or in a post-conflict situation; Iraq is still very much at war in my opinion. You don't go more than a few blocks or half a mile before running into an Iraqi army checkpoint, with men in fatigues standing next to armed Humvees or tanks. Buildings are run down and garbage is everywhere in the streets, many shops are still abandoned, and in many neighborhoods, shacks are constructed from scrap metal, dirty blankets, decaying wood pallets and stolen slabs of concrete rubble.
The main city streets are always packed, full of dilapidated cars, pickup trucks with beds full of scrawny cattle, donkey carts, and motorcycles. Stoplights and lanes are nonexistent, and kids weave between stopped cars hawking boxes of tissue, bottled water and bootleg CDs - a common overseas occurrence. Men walk around in any manner of dress, from fashionable European-style jeans and tshirts to long white thawbs and the keffiyeh (long men's headscarf). Meanwhile, the vast majority of women wear the long black abaya; those who don't dress extremely conservatively, with long, loose clothes from head to foot and always a hijab. I haven't seen one woman in Western dress or with uncovered hair since arriving.
My housemates are all men: two Sudanese and one Kenyan. Each is at least 40, and they all have families living in other countries. With that kind of company, it's going to be pretty quiet around here, that's for sure. Our cook and housekeeping staff are all Iraqi men - women would not be appropriate given there are men living in the house - and we're learning to not be quite so awkward around each other. I still feel like a ridiculous American woman around them most of the time.
For a million-dollar house, our living arrangements are very basic. The house is run-down; despite being in a wealthy neighborhood, it has clearly not been kept up over the years. But how can you feel a pride of ownership when everything in your country is inaccessible and can be lost at a moment's notice? It is amazing, the many ways the years of fighting and Ba'ath rule have impacted the consciousness and thinking of the people subject to it. But, I digress. By local standards we're living very well - I have the basic comforts in my room: TV, DVD player, desk with internet for my computer, etc. I've been amazed there aren't more bugs and other intruders - the most common visitors from the animal kingdom are small, sand-colored geckos with black eyes. I'm fond of them when they show up skittering around the house. We also have a little pack of stray cats that comes into the yard; I'm trying to befriend a small tiger-striped kitten if it'll let me.
The work is extremely fulfilling already, and my plate hasn't even begun to fill up. The particulars deserve their own post, to come soon. In my first week of being overwhelmed, lonely and missing my family, I had only to think of the millions of people in this country - and those we serve and try to help - whose lives are torn apart by conflict every day. My situation seemed idyllic by comparison, putting everything quickly into perspective. I am eager to get out into these communities to meet our Iraqi partners face to face.
That's all for now. Thanks to all who have emailed, called, Skyped and Facebooked ... I miss you all.
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