Much of my professional energies over the past several months have been focused on designing and implementing some updates to our Women's Inclusion and Awareness (WAI) program. These will be implemented in four provinces in south Iraq (my area of responsibility) but also in our programs in the North and around Baghdad.
Since the program's inception in 2006, we've not only been teaching literacy in our centers, but also providing education on key social awareness topics. To date, we've educated approximately 18,000 women. Earlier in the Fall, we identified a need to review the topics and standardize the curriculum that's being delivered. Not only does this maintain the quality of our programming, but also ensures the safety of our program, our staff, and the women we're teaching.
With national elections coming up - originally scheduled for mid-January but now postponed until later in the Spring - we decided that our first social awareness module would be focused on democracy, governance and elections - in part, to promote women's independent participation in the upcoming elections. After receiving an inadequate first draft, it was clear that the job I wanted done would have to be done myself. And so I set out to write a curriculum.
It was an interesting thing, and a powerful one, trying to figure out what to teach 8,800 illiterate or semi-literate women about democracy and governance. Many would have limited and inaccurate knowledge about these basic subjects. Others would have next to no information about them at all. Each and every one of them is marginalized and overlooked in Iraqi political society. Their voices and their needs are regularly ignored in political decisions and activities, they lack advocates and role models in political spheres, and they are secondary actors in their communities. Overcoming those obstacles are exactly what we hope to achieve through the WAI program, and the curriculum I needed to design was the first step in helping to provide them with the tools to change the status quo.
In addition to the task of providing them with this vital and valuable information, there was a responsibility for their safety, and for mine. Mercy Corps' operations, and the WAI program, are high-profile and high-visibility in the communities where we work. We operate 205 WAI centers in south Iraq alone: this information was going to touch a lot of people. I needed to make sure that the information we were providing was not going to cause problems for students, teachers, and our program staff as it was disseminated into the community. There are no rules for this, only a sense of good judgement and a feeling for the state of things on the ground; understanding what's acceptable and what's objectionable, what's safe and what's too risky.
I think my high school teachers would've been proud at the finished product. In addition to the well-ingrained basics, I got an interesting crash course in the Iraqi government system, from constitution to parliament to judicial system. Interesting also was the fact that there were some elements that I couldn't fully describe - like the structure and function of the Council of Union, the second house of Iraq's relatively-new bicameral legislative system - as they remain so nascent that they're still not formed.
What the curriculum did include was a basic overview of democracy, the fundamental structure of the new Iraqi government, the rights and services guaranteed to Iraqi citizens under its constitution, the process of voting and voters' rights and responsibilities, women's role in government, and practical ways our students - illiterate, impoverished and marginalized - can begin to get involved in their communities and the governance process. It's barely a 100-level course, but it gives them initial information, and something to think about.
We held a series of Training of Trainers sessions for the trainers who would be delivering the lectures in our 205 centers. They were all women with university degrees, each with professional experience. Feedback from my staff was that none of them even knew all this information. With all the new changes and constant shifts in the structure and function of the Iraqi government since 2005, it's no wonder that political literacy in this country is incredibly low.
Our lecture series kicked off in WAI centers today, and I can't wait to see how it goes. My staff will be out monitoring activities from now through the end of January, and we're gearing up for a series of beneficiary surveys to test the womens' knowledge before and after the lectures. I'm eager to discover what knowledge they started with, and how much they learn. For me personally, it was an awesome experience to be providing thousands of oppressed Iraqi women with a seed of knowledge and a spark of hope that their voices and their actions do matter to this country's future.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Thanksgiving, Military Style
American Thanksgiving this year coincided with the Muslim holiday of Eid Al-Adha, the celebration of Ibrahim's (Abraham's) willingness to sacrifice his son Isma'el (Ishmael) to God. Our Iraqi staff had a four-day holiday (plus weekend days, making a full week), so the Basra expat staff decided to vacate the guesthouse and spend the week on the Basra military base.
For me, this meant getting a proper Thanksgiving dinner. Not by Mom's standards, of course, but at least the basics were covered. I ate in one of the big military DFACs (cafeterias) with my colleague Tiana and two of her friends, female Majors in the Army Reserve, from Colorado and Minnesota, respectively. I expected dry, overcooked turkey, but to my surprise, it was quite good. The rest was rather take-it-or-leave-it. Our meal concluded with a guest appearance by the New England Patriots cheerleaders. No photos, unfortunately, but you're basically looking at a bunch of high school girls in shiny red tracksuits.
Following dinner, we headed to a party hosted by the Basra Provincial Reconstruction Team (PRT). Fun to be in a non-work social setting for the second time in four months (the other being a concert and barhopping in Paris with a couple of delightful French strangers). It was also FANTASTIC to have a brief return to beer and wine. Having to hand-carry booze into Basrah - which is legal, just hasn't been available for purchase* - meant that hard liquor was the only economical option during comings and goings from Baghdad, Amman, etc. Vodka and bourbon have been delightful companions a few nights a week, but each and every one of you know me as a tiny bit of a wine and beer snob. That said, even Budweiser and too-green Jacob's Creek shiraz-cab managed to hit the spot in a serious way.
Made some fabulous new friends over the course of the week, most of them at the British Consulate located on the base. Conveniently, the Consulate has a bar and is the only legitimate place to procure alcoholic beverages on the base. But, then again, history suggests I do kind of have a knack for knowing the right people ...
Another highlight was scoring some pork. (No, those of you with dirty minds, that wasn't what I meant ... Angela Owen, this means you) The PX on base had a well-stocked freezer section with pork chops and Italian sausage. Amazing!
It was pretty interesting to be inside a working military base for a week. The infrastructure and logistics are incredible, and I only got a glimpse. Basrah is a pretty quiet place these days, but there's still a lot of hustle and bustle. I'm not quite sure for what purpose, as troops are pulled back to US bases, but there are still a lot of guns running around. It looked like seventy-five percent of the soldiers are running around with enormous guns strapped to their backs at all times, although between the lots of perimeter razor wire, concrete walls, massively-armed checkpoints, and myriad other defenses of which I'm completely unaware, not sure who's coming in to need shooting. I've become amazingly desensitized to the presence of sidearms, sniper rifles, Humvee convoys and tanks - pretty much an everyday occurrence, both on base (American) and out in Basrah (Iraqi).
After a nice week's respite from the confines of the Basrah guesthouse - I hadn't left the house once in over a month before we headed to the base - we're back in town again. Now that I've gotten rid of my cabin fever, only two more weeks 'til I'm Portland-bound for the holidays.
* Alhamdullilah! (Thanks be to God) ... the ban on alcohol sales effected in Basrah in August has now been overturned. Seems it was unconstitutional to prevent people from imbibing. Let the soft liquor flow once more.
For me, this meant getting a proper Thanksgiving dinner. Not by Mom's standards, of course, but at least the basics were covered. I ate in one of the big military DFACs (cafeterias) with my colleague Tiana and two of her friends, female Majors in the Army Reserve, from Colorado and Minnesota, respectively. I expected dry, overcooked turkey, but to my surprise, it was quite good. The rest was rather take-it-or-leave-it. Our meal concluded with a guest appearance by the New England Patriots cheerleaders. No photos, unfortunately, but you're basically looking at a bunch of high school girls in shiny red tracksuits.
Following dinner, we headed to a party hosted by the Basra Provincial Reconstruction Team (PRT). Fun to be in a non-work social setting for the second time in four months (the other being a concert and barhopping in Paris with a couple of delightful French strangers). It was also FANTASTIC to have a brief return to beer and wine. Having to hand-carry booze into Basrah - which is legal, just hasn't been available for purchase* - meant that hard liquor was the only economical option during comings and goings from Baghdad, Amman, etc. Vodka and bourbon have been delightful companions a few nights a week, but each and every one of you know me as a tiny bit of a wine and beer snob. That said, even Budweiser and too-green Jacob's Creek shiraz-cab managed to hit the spot in a serious way.
Made some fabulous new friends over the course of the week, most of them at the British Consulate located on the base. Conveniently, the Consulate has a bar and is the only legitimate place to procure alcoholic beverages on the base. But, then again, history suggests I do kind of have a knack for knowing the right people ...
Another highlight was scoring some pork. (No, those of you with dirty minds, that wasn't what I meant ... Angela Owen, this means you) The PX on base had a well-stocked freezer section with pork chops and Italian sausage. Amazing!
It was pretty interesting to be inside a working military base for a week. The infrastructure and logistics are incredible, and I only got a glimpse. Basrah is a pretty quiet place these days, but there's still a lot of hustle and bustle. I'm not quite sure for what purpose, as troops are pulled back to US bases, but there are still a lot of guns running around. It looked like seventy-five percent of the soldiers are running around with enormous guns strapped to their backs at all times, although between the lots of perimeter razor wire, concrete walls, massively-armed checkpoints, and myriad other defenses of which I'm completely unaware, not sure who's coming in to need shooting. I've become amazingly desensitized to the presence of sidearms, sniper rifles, Humvee convoys and tanks - pretty much an everyday occurrence, both on base (American) and out in Basrah (Iraqi).
After a nice week's respite from the confines of the Basrah guesthouse - I hadn't left the house once in over a month before we headed to the base - we're back in town again. Now that I've gotten rid of my cabin fever, only two more weeks 'til I'm Portland-bound for the holidays.
* Alhamdullilah! (Thanks be to God) ... the ban on alcohol sales effected in Basrah in August has now been overturned. Seems it was unconstitutional to prevent people from imbibing. Let the soft liquor flow once more.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Don't Worry ... I'm Still Alive
Been a while since my last post! Had a great first R&R in France with Mom and Dad in mid-October, and have been going full steam since I got back.
France was fantastic. After having studied French for six years, it was wonderful to finally get there and see it. We spent four days in the Cotes du Rhone area (wine region in southern France) and four days in Paris. In Cotes du Rhone, we stayed at Domaine de Cabasse - an excellent working vineyard and B&B. Most importantly, I got my fix of lots of good wine ... something I've been missing very much!
In Paris, we rented an apartment in the 7th Arrondisement - what a luxury. We ate in all but one night, and it was delightful to be back in the kitchen with Mom again. Our one meal out in Paris was by far one of the best I've ever had. All in all, a very memorable trip. Pictures in the links below:
Rhone Photos
Paris Photos
Now that I'm back in Basra, work has been a bit of a whirlwind. I've been handed oversight of our Women's Awareness and Inclusion Program (along with a new title and a direct report - yikes), and this has entailed a lot of activity! The time already flies, but now it's feeling warp-speed. No complaints.
I will be back in Portland for R&R #2 on December 21st. So looking forward to spending the holidays at home with my family, and catching up with all my Portland friends! Will be in town until the 6th or so, so hope to see many of you when I'm there!
France was fantastic. After having studied French for six years, it was wonderful to finally get there and see it. We spent four days in the Cotes du Rhone area (wine region in southern France) and four days in Paris. In Cotes du Rhone, we stayed at Domaine de Cabasse - an excellent working vineyard and B&B. Most importantly, I got my fix of lots of good wine ... something I've been missing very much!
In Paris, we rented an apartment in the 7th Arrondisement - what a luxury. We ate in all but one night, and it was delightful to be back in the kitchen with Mom again. Our one meal out in Paris was by far one of the best I've ever had. All in all, a very memorable trip. Pictures in the links below:
Rhone Photos
Paris Photos
Now that I'm back in Basra, work has been a bit of a whirlwind. I've been handed oversight of our Women's Awareness and Inclusion Program (along with a new title and a direct report - yikes), and this has entailed a lot of activity! The time already flies, but now it's feeling warp-speed. No complaints.
I will be back in Portland for R&R #2 on December 21st. So looking forward to spending the holidays at home with my family, and catching up with all my Portland friends! Will be in town until the 6th or so, so hope to see many of you when I'm there!
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Basrah is Beautiful at Night
I got out of the house late this afternoon to do a little shopping. First we stopped by the grocery store, which we apparently caught at a well-stocked moment. Excellent scores, including barbecue sauce (anyone who knows me knows how important a fixture this is in my life ... I'd been contemplating making it upon acquisition of brown sugar), chutney, Thai chili sauce, powdered coconut milk (we'll see how that goes), paprika and chili powder (I'm Mexican again!), and cinnamon.
As we emerged from the store, dusk had fallen. The sky was hazy purple, the yellow moon high and only a few days from full. The call to prayer had just begun, and the domed roofs and minaret of the mosque a few blocks away were beautifully lit. The Arab world comes alive at night, when work is done and the heat has subsided, and the streets were full of vendors selling shoes, dishes, bootleg DVDs, rotisserie chickens, faux leather jackets, popcorn, cigarettes, and more. Steady streams of pedestrians passed: men in hip, European-style jeans and t-shirts; old women in full black abayas; young women in hijabs, tunics, skinny jeans and ballet flats. For a moment, Basrah was just a normal Middle Eastern city.
We stopped at my favorite fruit stand and discovered fresh corn, cabbage, zucchini, green beans and - thank you, Allah! - hot peppers. What a great haul. From there, we went around the block to a small hole-in-the-wall bakery where several young men were making khoubz, Arabic flatbread similar to a pita but lighter, larger, more stretchy and with wonderful airy bubbles and charred spots. I soon discovered how this comes about - it's baked in large, domed brick ovens. One person makes baseball-sized balls of dough, and another quickly pounds and twirls them into 8" rounds. The rounds are placed over a basketball-sized half-circular mold covered in cloth. Another baker takes the mold, reaches his arm in the oven, and uses it to stick the now-flat round of dough directly onto the top of the domed oven. It adheres instantly, and hangs on while it bakes over a roaring fire. It's removed with huge iron tongs, beautifully golden and warm. We bought a few special ones with green onions, parsley and a little bit of ground lamb mixed into the dough - amazing. I wish I'd had my camera.
This little excursion made me wistful about the security situation being what it is, that it's enough of a risk for me to go out that I can't enjoy the city except for small outings. Under a different set of circumstances, Basrah would be a wonderful place ... for just two hours this evening, I could feel it.
As we emerged from the store, dusk had fallen. The sky was hazy purple, the yellow moon high and only a few days from full. The call to prayer had just begun, and the domed roofs and minaret of the mosque a few blocks away were beautifully lit. The Arab world comes alive at night, when work is done and the heat has subsided, and the streets were full of vendors selling shoes, dishes, bootleg DVDs, rotisserie chickens, faux leather jackets, popcorn, cigarettes, and more. Steady streams of pedestrians passed: men in hip, European-style jeans and t-shirts; old women in full black abayas; young women in hijabs, tunics, skinny jeans and ballet flats. For a moment, Basrah was just a normal Middle Eastern city.
We stopped at my favorite fruit stand and discovered fresh corn, cabbage, zucchini, green beans and - thank you, Allah! - hot peppers. What a great haul. From there, we went around the block to a small hole-in-the-wall bakery where several young men were making khoubz, Arabic flatbread similar to a pita but lighter, larger, more stretchy and with wonderful airy bubbles and charred spots. I soon discovered how this comes about - it's baked in large, domed brick ovens. One person makes baseball-sized balls of dough, and another quickly pounds and twirls them into 8" rounds. The rounds are placed over a basketball-sized half-circular mold covered in cloth. Another baker takes the mold, reaches his arm in the oven, and uses it to stick the now-flat round of dough directly onto the top of the domed oven. It adheres instantly, and hangs on while it bakes over a roaring fire. It's removed with huge iron tongs, beautifully golden and warm. We bought a few special ones with green onions, parsley and a little bit of ground lamb mixed into the dough - amazing. I wish I'd had my camera.
This little excursion made me wistful about the security situation being what it is, that it's enough of a risk for me to go out that I can't enjoy the city except for small outings. Under a different set of circumstances, Basrah would be a wonderful place ... for just two hours this evening, I could feel it.
Monday, September 28, 2009
A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Airport
I'm back safe and sound in my home sweet crappy home in Basra ... "the 'Rah" if you're talking to my friend Rinn from our Seattle office, or as it was recently christened by my housemate Ali, the Sawlty Tower (you know ... because of the water).
Boy is it a trip to fly out of Baghdad. Or just to get to the airport to fly out of Baghdad. At least they're doing their due diligence where security's concerned. The trek goes a little something like this:
1. Depending on the time of your departure, fight traffic to get to the airport.
2. Go through three ID checkpoints manned by heavily armed Iraqi soldiers.
3. Stop in a line of cars. Get out, open all the doors, the trunk, and pop the hood. Stand aside while a security guard walks a dog around to sniff for explosives.
4. Get back in the car. Stop at a set of trailers (one for men, one for women) where your luggage is searched. Get back in the car.
5. Drive up to the departure terminal. Go for a long walk to a big cement tunnel and follow the instructions of two security guards to drop all your belongings on the ground with a bunch of other people's belongings.
6. Leave your belongings out of your sight and exit the tunnel to get a pat-down. If you're a man, stand out in the open for your search; if you're a woman, go into a tiny cloistered room.
7. When you get the go ahead, follow the throng of 40 people back to the cement tunnel and everybody scramble to grab their stuff at the same time.
8. Take another long walk to the Iraqi Airways ticket counter and get your handwritten, carbon-paper ticket stamped. What does that stamp mean? I don't know.
9. Walk through a checkpoint manned by Iraqi customs officials. Have your bag scanned. Get asked if you're Iraqi.
10. Get your handwritten boarding pass from the check-in counter. Pity the people next to you going to Tehran ... except you're going to Basra, so pity yourself equally, if not more.
11. Walk through a checkpoint manned by security staff. Get asked if you're Iraqi. Insist that the visa in your passport is sufficient to get you on a plane, and that no, you do not need to flash them your Department of Defense ID.
12. Flash DoD ID anyway.
13. Have your bag scanned.
14. Have your bag scanned.
15. Wait at the gate til they call your flight. Hope they didn't change the gate without telling anyone. Hope they actually call your flight. Out loud.
16. Have your bag scanned. Get asked if you're Iraqi.
17. Tell the guy behind the computer that no, that's not a bottle of wine in your bag ... it's bourbon. Take the bourbon out of your bag. Allow another guy to escort your booze onto the plane with you. Believe him when he says you can pick it up when you get to Basra.
18. Note that, aside from the flight attendants, you're the only woman on the plane. Also note that you're the only woman wearing a hijab, and you're not even Muslim.
19. Arrive in Basra. Deplane, return bottle of bourbon surreptitiously to your bag, and find the doors to the arrival terminal locked. Wait for someone to unlock them.
20. Be incredibly surprised that you're standing outside on a tarmac and you're not sweating. When did this happen?
21. Get in the building and fill out a health card. Circle "no" to everything so nobody thinks you have Swine Flu.
22. Do "Are you Iraqi?"/passport scan/visa/DoD routine with immigration guy.
23. Show passport to some guy who writes your name down on a sheet. Because apparently it didn't go in the computer during Step 22.
24. Get your bag scanned, and cross your fingers that you don't get hassled about the bourbon.
25. Thank yourself for wearing a hijab, because that surely helped with the bourbon.
26. Get home, take off your hijab, and pour yourself a double bourbon.
Boy is it a trip to fly out of Baghdad. Or just to get to the airport to fly out of Baghdad. At least they're doing their due diligence where security's concerned. The trek goes a little something like this:
1. Depending on the time of your departure, fight traffic to get to the airport.
2. Go through three ID checkpoints manned by heavily armed Iraqi soldiers.
3. Stop in a line of cars. Get out, open all the doors, the trunk, and pop the hood. Stand aside while a security guard walks a dog around to sniff for explosives.
4. Get back in the car. Stop at a set of trailers (one for men, one for women) where your luggage is searched. Get back in the car.
5. Drive up to the departure terminal. Go for a long walk to a big cement tunnel and follow the instructions of two security guards to drop all your belongings on the ground with a bunch of other people's belongings.
6. Leave your belongings out of your sight and exit the tunnel to get a pat-down. If you're a man, stand out in the open for your search; if you're a woman, go into a tiny cloistered room.
7. When you get the go ahead, follow the throng of 40 people back to the cement tunnel and everybody scramble to grab their stuff at the same time.
8. Take another long walk to the Iraqi Airways ticket counter and get your handwritten, carbon-paper ticket stamped. What does that stamp mean? I don't know.
9. Walk through a checkpoint manned by Iraqi customs officials. Have your bag scanned. Get asked if you're Iraqi.
10. Get your handwritten boarding pass from the check-in counter. Pity the people next to you going to Tehran ... except you're going to Basra, so pity yourself equally, if not more.
11. Walk through a checkpoint manned by security staff. Get asked if you're Iraqi. Insist that the visa in your passport is sufficient to get you on a plane, and that no, you do not need to flash them your Department of Defense ID.
12. Flash DoD ID anyway.
13. Have your bag scanned.
14. Have your bag scanned.
15. Wait at the gate til they call your flight. Hope they didn't change the gate without telling anyone. Hope they actually call your flight. Out loud.
16. Have your bag scanned. Get asked if you're Iraqi.
17. Tell the guy behind the computer that no, that's not a bottle of wine in your bag ... it's bourbon. Take the bourbon out of your bag. Allow another guy to escort your booze onto the plane with you. Believe him when he says you can pick it up when you get to Basra.
18. Note that, aside from the flight attendants, you're the only woman on the plane. Also note that you're the only woman wearing a hijab, and you're not even Muslim.
19. Arrive in Basra. Deplane, return bottle of bourbon surreptitiously to your bag, and find the doors to the arrival terminal locked. Wait for someone to unlock them.
20. Be incredibly surprised that you're standing outside on a tarmac and you're not sweating. When did this happen?
21. Get in the building and fill out a health card. Circle "no" to everything so nobody thinks you have Swine Flu.
22. Do "Are you Iraqi?"/passport scan/visa/DoD routine with immigration guy.
23. Show passport to some guy who writes your name down on a sheet. Because apparently it didn't go in the computer during Step 22.
24. Get your bag scanned, and cross your fingers that you don't get hassled about the bourbon.
25. Thank yourself for wearing a hijab, because that surely helped with the bourbon.
26. Get home, take off your hijab, and pour yourself a double bourbon.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Blogging From Baghdad
It's been a while since my last post, so I figured it was time for an update (at least so everyone knows I'm still among the living). Things have been relatively quiet. I'm currently blogging from our Baghdad office, where I've been for the past ten days. It's been nice to get out of Basrah and have a change of scenery. The office here is run by four thirty-something female expats, and it's been great to have more estrogen in my surroundings ... and to watch them all at work, amazing and talented women running an operation in one of the world's most difficult and dangerous places.
I don't have photos to share since we have even less mobility here in Baghdad. The compound is lovely, with lush gardens and lots of classic, tall palms. I've enjoyed evenings spent sipping cocktails, enjoying a few beers over a game of Scrabble on the main house porch, a few rousing games of badminton, and cooking dinners with my colleagues (peach cobbler, anyone?).
The rest of the experience shall not be posted here, as it contains details of the variety you never tell your mother.
My work time has been spent developing some adjustments to our literacy program in the south, the daily operations of which I will now be in charge of managing. I'm looking forward to implementing some valuable changes and helping to strengthen the program.
That's it for now. Tickets to France on the 9th have been procured, where I'll be meeting Mom and Dad for a lot of wine and sightseeing.
I don't have photos to share since we have even less mobility here in Baghdad. The compound is lovely, with lush gardens and lots of classic, tall palms. I've enjoyed evenings spent sipping cocktails, enjoying a few beers over a game of Scrabble on the main house porch, a few rousing games of badminton, and cooking dinners with my colleagues (peach cobbler, anyone?).
The rest of the experience shall not be posted here, as it contains details of the variety you never tell your mother.
My work time has been spent developing some adjustments to our literacy program in the south, the daily operations of which I will now be in charge of managing. I'm looking forward to implementing some valuable changes and helping to strengthen the program.
That's it for now. Tickets to France on the 9th have been procured, where I'll be meeting Mom and Dad for a lot of wine and sightseeing.
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