Best Meal in Iraq

After a workout and dinner tonight, I was out creeping around the yard hunting kittens (one of my favorite pastimes, and one that has our entire staff pretty amused). It was about 8:30, and the evening security shift was just about to sit down for dinner. They asked me to join them and of course, I couldn't refuse.

Seven of us sat around a table in the small guard house. They had brought out three large plates of Arabic flatbread topped with large brown beans, a bit of scrambled egg, and delicious fried onions. One of the guards, Abu-Ahmed, had prepared the meal in our kitchen nextdoor. They politely put spoons around, but my colleague Mahmood told me they usually eat with their hands and that I was welcome to do either. "If you eat with your hands, so do I." I told him.

As we ate, they all took turns asking me questions. Forever wishing my Arabic was better, I mostly relied on Mahmood to translate. The guys asked about where I was from, my family, how old I am, what I miss most about home. Finally, they asked if I was married, to which I (obviously) responded that I wasn't. "Why?" they asked. "Well, I'm too young," I started. "And besides, I have to come live here in Iraq first." One of them replied that he has a daughter who is fourteen - she was recently married, and so I don't seem too young at all. I told them that for me it is important to focus on my work and start my career before I get married, and that I will get married when I find the right person. It was hard to know how foreign that concept may or may not have seemed, when many of them are only in their early 30s and have four or five children. Indeed, they found it odd that I only have one sister, and that two to three children is the average in America. I told them that for many families, their goal is to have their children graduate from university, and that in America that is very expensive. So they have fewer children in order to make sure they can provide for them. Such a different thing for Iraqis, who rely on their children to take care of them financially and domestically. More is usually better.

We continued to eat and chat - I promised them an American meal in return, and they looked pretty skeptical. So much so that they asked if I knew how to cook. Don't worry ... as many of you know, I'll show them. Not quite sure what that will be, but I'm thinking good steaks are involved (if only I can find someone on our staff who knows a decent butcher and knows how to ask him to how cut good steaks).

They asked me how I like Iraq and living in Basrah. I told them I like it very much - and that my favorite part is all my new Iraqi friends - but that I wish I could get out into the city to really experience it, and that inshallah that would be different someday. They said they wished they could take me to meet their families and go out in and around Basra, to show me what it's really like. They said they wished the security situation was not how it is, that it was safer for us to do things like that. I told them that, while it may not be better while I am in Iraq now, I knew that they would all be part of bringing about that change, and that I would be back to visit when it has happened.

They all expressed, many times, their pleasure and honor at my sharing a meal with them. They said they were surprised that I had accepted the invitation, and that they wished all the expats would do that. I told them that it was an honor for me to share their hospitality. One asked if I would write in my diary about our meal together (maybe they think all Americans do this?) ... but I told them that I do, in fact, have a diary of sorts. It's a diary on the internet, and I share it with many family members and friends back home. I share with these family and friends my experiences in Iraq, because they appreciate me being able to tell these stories. And that yes, of course, I would share the story of our meal together, and that I was sure my family and friends would love to hear it.

As long as their wives don't kill them for having dinner with a young American woman, as they joked, this was one of my favorite experiences here so far. Sharing different elements of culture and perspective is always enlightening and, as many of you know, the substance that brings us together. For me, living in a culture that can be hostile towards westerners and Americans in particular, these moments are especially meaningful. They show me that there is goodwill between us in spite of what we're trained to think by the media and by extreme perspectives on both sides. These brief interactions help to foster that goodwill, and to me that's just as important as the aid dollars we spend and the work that we do here. Taking those opportunities to become better friends with our security staff is why they protect us unarmed and I still feel secure - I care about them and they about me, and I know they'll work harder to keep me safe. Beyond the programmatic achievements and the additions to my resume, nights like this are the reason why I'm here.