I've been thinking recently about the war's effect on the simplest parts of life. Outdoor markets are frequent targets of car bombs, so shopping is very difficult. As I mentioned earlier, walking through the street -- a luxury that most people take for granted -- is dangerous, especially for a woman alone. But the biggest effect of the war on people's daily life might be the problems sleeping.
There are a few problems with sleeping in Baghdad. The first, and most common, is that it's often too hot to sleep at all without electricity. Even at night, the temperature in the summer hovers at or above 100 degrees. Making it worse, Baghdad residents are only getting about an hour of city-provided electricity a day, and for the vast majority of people who cannot afford to run generators (even an average-sized generator can only run for a few hours a day -- our house has three massive ones), the heat is unbearable at night.
Consequently, people flock to their roofs, hoping for some slightly cooler open air for long enough to get a few hours of sleep. But sleeping on the roof is a scary thing -- especially in some of the more dangerous neighborhoods, mortar rounds fly through the air regularly. Sleep can be difficult because of a more general fear of violence as well. Most Baghdad residents
have adapted to living with some degree of fear -- if you can't delude yourself that your bedroom is safe, you've got nothing left. But with helicopters flying low and loud every night and fairly regular sounds of gunshots and explosions in the distance, sleep doesn't always come easily.
This morning I mentioned in the newsroom that I was staring at my ceiling at about 4:30 in the morning, unable to sleep. "Me too," my American colleague said. "Me too," A added. "And me," D said. We realized that all four of us had been lying in adjacent rooms, wide awake in the pre-dawn hours. There was a pause, then all four of us laughed, slightly uneasily.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Stress
I officially committed to staying in Baghdad until Sept. 23 last night, which will bring my total time in country to 11 weeks (instead of the eight I initially committed to). If this decision had come just two hours earlier, I might have been mostly excited about it. As it was, this came an hour after gunmen had attacked the guards that man the entrance to our compound, so I wasn't feeling too thrilled about the whole Iraq concept.
Tensions have been running high around here since the incident last night. For a few of us, the stress was compounded by another scary incident this morning. On our way to a meeting at the Green Zone, we attempted to drive down the road that hundreds of Shiite pilgrims were using to return for an aborted religious festival in the southern city of Karbala. People were packed into buses and trucks, with many riding on the roofs of each vehicle because there was not enough room inside. There were lots of guns as well. At one point, somebody shot twice directly at our car. It would have been tough for them to figure out I was an American, since I was dressed like an Iraqi, so it was probably because they assumed our armored car was carrying a VIP. An AK-47 bullet won't go through armor, so we were never in any real danger, but combined with last night's violence it was too close for comfort.
By the time we made it past all the pilgrims, we heard that the road we needed to take was closed, so we turned around to head back. By then, they had also closed the road leading back to the office, so we were stuck in the middle of a scene that seems to have all the necessary characteristics to prompt a riot. We were contemplating leaving the cars and walking back to the office, but one of our drivers managed to bribe a soldier to let us through a barricade. Traffic jams are so, so scary in Baghdad because they are the perfect setting in which to set off a car bomb. We made it back to the office just fine, but the sequence of events has made me a bit uneasy.
Tensions have been running high around here since the incident last night. For a few of us, the stress was compounded by another scary incident this morning. On our way to a meeting at the Green Zone, we attempted to drive down the road that hundreds of Shiite pilgrims were using to return for an aborted religious festival in the southern city of Karbala. People were packed into buses and trucks, with many riding on the roofs of each vehicle because there was not enough room inside. There were lots of guns as well. At one point, somebody shot twice directly at our car. It would have been tough for them to figure out I was an American, since I was dressed like an Iraqi, so it was probably because they assumed our armored car was carrying a VIP. An AK-47 bullet won't go through armor, so we were never in any real danger, but combined with last night's violence it was too close for comfort.
By the time we made it past all the pilgrims, we heard that the road we needed to take was closed, so we turned around to head back. By then, they had also closed the road leading back to the office, so we were stuck in the middle of a scene that seems to have all the necessary characteristics to prompt a riot. We were contemplating leaving the cars and walking back to the office, but one of our drivers managed to bribe a soldier to let us through a barricade. Traffic jams are so, so scary in Baghdad because they are the perfect setting in which to set off a car bomb. We made it back to the office just fine, but the sequence of events has made me a bit uneasy.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Questioning my cynicism
Some small part of me has always thought about doing something to make the world better instead of just writing about the people who do. A friend that I deeply admire is starting law school this week after teaching in an innovative school for low-income boys for a year and then working as a paralegal for a homeless services organization for another year. Unlike many of the people who are going to his top-five law school, he isn't interested in the whopping $200,000 many first-year associates are now earning -- he wants to continue work for disadvantaged people and/or to teach. Being in Iraq, where literally everybody is suffering, makes me feel somewhat guilty that I'm not also making the world better, whether in New York or in Baghdad.
I know that storytellers have an important role in the world too, but to some extent it's that of a middleman -- get the information to the people who will actually do something about it. Supervisors have praised me for my critical eye toward happenings both in DC and Iraq, but there's a fine line between criticism and cynicism -- a line I find myself crossing fairly regularly. It sometimes scares me that I'm jaded at 23, that my mind ascribes political or self-aggrandizing motives to anyone who claims to be making progress in Iraq.
It's probably healthy that there's still part of me that wants to run away and join the Peace Corps or something, but I find it difficult to balance the two sides of my personality. I realize that dedicating my life to community service wouldn't put me in a position to solve the big problems of the world, but very often I feel powerless to fix even the small stuff. In the last three days, two close friends -- one in Iraq and one at home -- have, in different ways, lost people close to them, and it drives me crazy that I can't do anything about it. I realize that joining the Peace Corps wouldn't put me in a position to fix my friends' broken hearts, but wouldn't doing something for someone be a step in the right direction?
I know that storytellers have an important role in the world too, but to some extent it's that of a middleman -- get the information to the people who will actually do something about it. Supervisors have praised me for my critical eye toward happenings both in DC and Iraq, but there's a fine line between criticism and cynicism -- a line I find myself crossing fairly regularly. It sometimes scares me that I'm jaded at 23, that my mind ascribes political or self-aggrandizing motives to anyone who claims to be making progress in Iraq.
It's probably healthy that there's still part of me that wants to run away and join the Peace Corps or something, but I find it difficult to balance the two sides of my personality. I realize that dedicating my life to community service wouldn't put me in a position to solve the big problems of the world, but very often I feel powerless to fix even the small stuff. In the last three days, two close friends -- one in Iraq and one at home -- have, in different ways, lost people close to them, and it drives me crazy that I can't do anything about it. I realize that joining the Peace Corps wouldn't put me in a position to fix my friends' broken hearts, but wouldn't doing something for someone be a step in the right direction?
Monday, August 27, 2007
Okay, okay
So there are people reading. This is good to know. I got comments from everyone from my favorite NYC blogger (who should take her own sentiment to heart and post more often) to my high school physics teacher (who would like you to know that Berkeley High is amazing). And my mother, of course. I will keep posting on whatever happens in life, and at times when that's nothing I'll rail against bad media coverage and stupid politicians. Capiche?
I talked to a man this morning who has just sold his house in Baghdad. He moved to Syria when he started getting threatening letters at his home here, but it took him two years to sell the house. Even then, he sold it for less than one-third of its estimated value. In fact, he sold the nine-room home for just enough money to be able to afford the monthly rent on a two-room apartment in Damascus (his menial salary as a salesman pays for other life expenses). He is a Sunni whose neighborhood in Baghdad was taken over by the Mahdi Army, the major Shiite group. Fortunately for him, his Shiite next-door neighbor helped him sell the house and wired the money to him in Syria.
The man started crying when talking about his home, which his parents built a few years before he was born. He compared the feeling to losing a child -- not because he is materialistic (he clearly isn't), but because a lifetime's worth of memories were made there. He had planned to raise his children there, then pass the house to his oldest son, just as his father did. When I asked him to describe the house physically, he couldn't do it. He started to mention the backyard with the swing set and the bedroom with the secret crawl space, but he stopped and said he couldn't keep talking about it. He was in tears.
The people who have moved out of Baghdad have lost nearly everything -- family members and friends, their sense of security and freedom and the city they love. For this man, his home was the physical reminder of how much the last four years have taken. I nearly cried too.
I talked to a man this morning who has just sold his house in Baghdad. He moved to Syria when he started getting threatening letters at his home here, but it took him two years to sell the house. Even then, he sold it for less than one-third of its estimated value. In fact, he sold the nine-room home for just enough money to be able to afford the monthly rent on a two-room apartment in Damascus (his menial salary as a salesman pays for other life expenses). He is a Sunni whose neighborhood in Baghdad was taken over by the Mahdi Army, the major Shiite group. Fortunately for him, his Shiite next-door neighbor helped him sell the house and wired the money to him in Syria.
The man started crying when talking about his home, which his parents built a few years before he was born. He compared the feeling to losing a child -- not because he is materialistic (he clearly isn't), but because a lifetime's worth of memories were made there. He had planned to raise his children there, then pass the house to his oldest son, just as his father did. When I asked him to describe the house physically, he couldn't do it. He started to mention the backyard with the swing set and the bedroom with the secret crawl space, but he stopped and said he couldn't keep talking about it. He was in tears.
The people who have moved out of Baghdad have lost nearly everything -- family members and friends, their sense of security and freedom and the city they love. For this man, his home was the physical reminder of how much the last four years have taken. I nearly cried too.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Gun lessons
M, our security chief, informs me that every young woman needs to know how to use a gun. The perplexing part of this is that he realizes I will never own a gun, but just in case... just in case what? Just in case I find one on the street just as I'm being attacked? Just in case my nonexistent martial arts skills are enough to grab my attacker's weapon? It's unclear. But I figured it never hurts to learn, and now I'll be able to tell people I learned how to use a gun from a hard-core retured Iraqi Army captain. For some reason M is convinced that a 9 mm is more practical than an AK (in Iraq, it sure doesn't seem like it!)
Lesson one was all about safety (a good place to start). I practiced taking the magazine out, checking the chamber and aiming. It's not the sexiest stuff, but M promises he'll take me to a range at some point. Right now I'm mostly just aiming an unloaded gun at the clock in his office.
I've got some cousins back in Kentucky who would be pretty proud of me. I have a very distinct memory of sitting in a much-older cousin's truck a few years ago and being horrified when he pulled his handgun out of his waistband to rest it in the cupholder. Turns out Kentucky has slightly less restrictive rules than, say, Berkeley.
Lesson one was all about safety (a good place to start). I practiced taking the magazine out, checking the chamber and aiming. It's not the sexiest stuff, but M promises he'll take me to a range at some point. Right now I'm mostly just aiming an unloaded gun at the clock in his office.
I've got some cousins back in Kentucky who would be pretty proud of me. I have a very distinct memory of sitting in a much-older cousin's truck a few years ago and being horrified when he pulled his handgun out of his waistband to rest it in the cupholder. Turns out Kentucky has slightly less restrictive rules than, say, Berkeley.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Tired
I don't have a good idea of something to blog about. I want to blog every day because I think some people read it, but recently there have been no comments, so maybe we're down to just my mother at this point. Can you folks tell me what you'd like to read here? Which posts are particularly interesting? What I haven't posted about that you keep wanting me to? Reassure me that I'm not talking to a brick wall here.
Love,
Briony
Love,
Briony
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Al-Qaeda in Iraq: a true story
One of my co-workers, M, used to be a captain in the Iraqi Army. He had enlisted as a young man, gone to officers' school, received highly specialized training and served loyally for more than 20 years (well, he tried to run away once -- he made it as far as Fort Bragg, N.C. -- but that's tangential to this particular story). He was commanding several hundred guys when the Americans invaded in 2003. M was thrilled -- he hated Saddam, as did most of the officers he worked with.
Then Paul Bremer announced the entire Iraqi Army was being disbanded for fears they would be loyal to Saddam. Two million soldiers and officers, most of whom were eager to fight against any Baath party loyalists and patrol the borders, suddenly found themselves out of a job. There was no chance to audition to get their jobs back; if they had served under Saddam, they could never serve again.
Since then, M has received several offers from al-Qaeda in Iraq (which may or may not be connected to Osama bin Laden's al-Qaeda, depending on who you listen to) to help train their fighters. Most recently, an old Army buddy proposed that he devote two hours a day to train insurgents how to fire mortars and RPGs in exchange for $500 a day. That's more than $180,000 a year. AQI has nearly unlimited financial resources, they know where to find the best people and they're willing to do what it takes to get those people on board. M said no; he had a good job already, and though it doesn't pay nearly that well he is making enough to feed his family. But dozens, maybe hundreds, of the guys he worked with in the Army took AQI up on the offer. Good jobs are very difficult to find in war-torn Iraq, and for many men the opportunity to make that kind of money was irresistible.
I say this because I believe that portraying this war as a purely ideological conflict (freedom vs. terrorism, democracy vs. tyranny, secularism vs. fundamentalism, etc.) is overly simplistic and historically inaccurate. I initially found M's story totally incredible, until I realized how common it is. I would wager that most of al-Qaeda in Iraq's members are people like M -- people whose steady wages from the Army were abruptly withdrawn in 2003 and who needed to replace them. Their old Army buddies came around presenting a new opportunity, and without even questioning the political or ideological platform they jumped at the chance. This is not to say that al-Qaeda's leaders do not have a fundamentalist ideology (driving out the U.S. military, establishing a caliphate, fighting Israel, etc.), but it's naive to think belief in that ideology is the only reason people join.
Then Paul Bremer announced the entire Iraqi Army was being disbanded for fears they would be loyal to Saddam. Two million soldiers and officers, most of whom were eager to fight against any Baath party loyalists and patrol the borders, suddenly found themselves out of a job. There was no chance to audition to get their jobs back; if they had served under Saddam, they could never serve again.
Since then, M has received several offers from al-Qaeda in Iraq (which may or may not be connected to Osama bin Laden's al-Qaeda, depending on who you listen to) to help train their fighters. Most recently, an old Army buddy proposed that he devote two hours a day to train insurgents how to fire mortars and RPGs in exchange for $500 a day. That's more than $180,000 a year. AQI has nearly unlimited financial resources, they know where to find the best people and they're willing to do what it takes to get those people on board. M said no; he had a good job already, and though it doesn't pay nearly that well he is making enough to feed his family. But dozens, maybe hundreds, of the guys he worked with in the Army took AQI up on the offer. Good jobs are very difficult to find in war-torn Iraq, and for many men the opportunity to make that kind of money was irresistible.
I say this because I believe that portraying this war as a purely ideological conflict (freedom vs. terrorism, democracy vs. tyranny, secularism vs. fundamentalism, etc.) is overly simplistic and historically inaccurate. I initially found M's story totally incredible, until I realized how common it is. I would wager that most of al-Qaeda in Iraq's members are people like M -- people whose steady wages from the Army were abruptly withdrawn in 2003 and who needed to replace them. Their old Army buddies came around presenting a new opportunity, and without even questioning the political or ideological platform they jumped at the chance. This is not to say that al-Qaeda's leaders do not have a fundamentalist ideology (driving out the U.S. military, establishing a caliphate, fighting Israel, etc.), but it's naive to think belief in that ideology is the only reason people join.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Walking
Tonight I walked over to the hotel across the street for a glass of wine with a bunch of other westerners. On the way over, one of our guards escorted me, brandishing his AK-47 the whole way. This hotel couldn't be more than 100 steps from our front door, but in order to go anywhere I need an escort.
Still, even our security guards aren't obsessive enough to sit and wait for me to come out, so I got to make the long walk home by myself. I didn't think anything of it when I set out, but while I was walking down the block I realized how nice it was to just walk at night by myself and look up at the sky. It was the most relaxing moment I've had since I've been here, and although it didn't last long it was fairly refreshing. Most people take for granted the ability to walk down a silent street late at night, but I think I had forgotten how wonderful those moments can be.
Hey what else can we do now
Except roll down the window
And let the wind blow back your hair
Well the night's busting open
These two lanes will take us anywhere
We got one last chance to make it real
To trade in these wings on some wheels
Climb in back
Heaven's waiting on down the tracks
Oh oh come take my hand
Riding out tonight to case the promised land
Oh oh Thunder Road, oh Thunder Road
oh Thunder Road
...
Well I got this guitar
And I learned how to make it talk
And my car's out back
If you're ready to take that long walk
From your front porch to my front seat
The door's open but the ride it ain't free
And I know you're lonely
For words that I ain't spoken
But tonight we'll be free
All the promises'll be broken
Still, even our security guards aren't obsessive enough to sit and wait for me to come out, so I got to make the long walk home by myself. I didn't think anything of it when I set out, but while I was walking down the block I realized how nice it was to just walk at night by myself and look up at the sky. It was the most relaxing moment I've had since I've been here, and although it didn't last long it was fairly refreshing. Most people take for granted the ability to walk down a silent street late at night, but I think I had forgotten how wonderful those moments can be.
Hey what else can we do now
Except roll down the window
And let the wind blow back your hair
Well the night's busting open
These two lanes will take us anywhere
We got one last chance to make it real
To trade in these wings on some wheels
Climb in back
Heaven's waiting on down the tracks
Oh oh come take my hand
Riding out tonight to case the promised land
Oh oh Thunder Road, oh Thunder Road
oh Thunder Road
...
Well I got this guitar
And I learned how to make it talk
And my car's out back
If you're ready to take that long walk
From your front porch to my front seat
The door's open but the ride it ain't free
And I know you're lonely
For words that I ain't spoken
But tonight we'll be free
All the promises'll be broken
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Scattershot
I don't have anything cohesive to say, so here are some tidbits:
--S, one of my Iraqi coworkers, is coming to DC in November, which should be fun. The company is paying for his flight and hotel stay to thank him for being a good employee, etc. The big boss is already planning lots of parties, tours and the like.
--I think I'm staying in Iraq an extra week. It's not official yet, but that looks like the plan. That will mean I will have been here for about 10 weeks.
--Somehow I just discovered that the people next door get large shipments of magazines from the States each week. Even better, the most recent Sports Illustrated, which they gave me, has an article about Jack Cust!
--People tend to get a little... creative when it comes to alcohol purchases in Iraq. The liquor store in the Green Zone just closed, so Americans haul in whatever they can carry from the duty-free shop in Amman. Still, though, I'm not sure that excuses the consumption of Skyy melon vodka. I can assure you it's disgusting even by our lowered standards.
--There's a possibility that Tuesday will be a big day -- Petraeus is holding a meeting to talk about the Sept. report... it could make headlines.
--Did anybody see this coming?
--S, one of my Iraqi coworkers, is coming to DC in November, which should be fun. The company is paying for his flight and hotel stay to thank him for being a good employee, etc. The big boss is already planning lots of parties, tours and the like.
--I think I'm staying in Iraq an extra week. It's not official yet, but that looks like the plan. That will mean I will have been here for about 10 weeks.
--Somehow I just discovered that the people next door get large shipments of magazines from the States each week. Even better, the most recent Sports Illustrated, which they gave me, has an article about Jack Cust!
--People tend to get a little... creative when it comes to alcohol purchases in Iraq. The liquor store in the Green Zone just closed, so Americans haul in whatever they can carry from the duty-free shop in Amman. Still, though, I'm not sure that excuses the consumption of Skyy melon vodka. I can assure you it's disgusting even by our lowered standards.
--There's a possibility that Tuesday will be a big day -- Petraeus is holding a meeting to talk about the Sept. report... it could make headlines.
--Did anybody see this coming?
Sunday, August 19, 2007
How the other half lives
Today I went to lunch at "Freedom Rest," the area near the Green Zone where many high-ranking generals live and where soldiers get to take breaks for a few days at a time. It was amazing. There was a gorgeous swimming pool, ping-pong tables everywhere, several cabinets full of the latest DVDs, a movie theater playing new releases, a sports bar (but no alcohol, since soldiers and officers aren't allowed to drink it), a bowling alley and more. I was with a bunch of people meeting with a general in a high-ceilinged, lavishly decorated conference room.
I knew it was going to be a good day when I walked in the conference room and saw a line of a dozen silver serving dishes. A crew of waiters pulled off the covers to reveal fresh vegetables, Chinese noodles, chicken and broccoli, egg drop soup and much more. I was in heaven. I ate orange chicken, noodles, rice, stir fried eggplant, soup and a chocolate chip cookie, which was all delightful. The reporters in the room were saying that it's very easy for the military to get good coverage in Iraq -- just give them good food. Everybody laughed, but there's a definite element of truth to it.
It was only a couple of hours later that I realized the food wasn't actually all that good -- it was comparable to the Chinese food you'd eat in a mall food court, which I would generally scoff at. But in Iraq, those gloppy noodles and cloyingly sweet chicken tasted pretty amazing.
I knew it was going to be a good day when I walked in the conference room and saw a line of a dozen silver serving dishes. A crew of waiters pulled off the covers to reveal fresh vegetables, Chinese noodles, chicken and broccoli, egg drop soup and much more. I was in heaven. I ate orange chicken, noodles, rice, stir fried eggplant, soup and a chocolate chip cookie, which was all delightful. The reporters in the room were saying that it's very easy for the military to get good coverage in Iraq -- just give them good food. Everybody laughed, but there's a definite element of truth to it.
It was only a couple of hours later that I realized the food wasn't actually all that good -- it was comparable to the Chinese food you'd eat in a mall food court, which I would generally scoff at. But in Iraq, those gloppy noodles and cloyingly sweet chicken tasted pretty amazing.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Another great opinion piece
Two in three days! This is amazing. Jonathan Finer, a former Washington Post Baghdad correspondent wrote this one, about the trend of politicians and pundits spending a few days in the Green Zone and then proclaiming that it's either improving rapidly or going to hell in a handbasket. I don't mean to say that people who haven't been to Iraq can't comment on the merits of decisions being made here. Rather, my frustration lies with people who claim to have been totally enlightened by their three days in a heavily-fortified compound. As the author of the op/ed writes, "Prescient insights rarely emerge from a few days in-country behind the blast walls."
The most infamous example of this pattern was John McCain's trip to Iraq earlier this year, when he took a quick trip out of the Green Zone to an outdoor market, then announced that "there are neighborhoods in Baghdad where you and I could walk through those neighborhoods today.” Of course, at the time McCain failed to mention that he was wearing body armor and walking with 100 American soldiers with M-4s with four air assault helicopters circling overhead.
More recently, two Brookings Institution scholars wrote an absolutely inane opinion piece in The New York Times making all sorts of claims about how safe Iraq is. Of course, they were in country for all of eight days, time almost entirely spent in the Green Zone. "It goes without saying that everyone can, and in this country should, have an opinion about the war, no matter how much time the person has spent in Iraq, if any," Finer writes. "But ... those who pass quickly through the war zone should stop ascribing their epiphanies to what are largely ceremonial visits."
The most infamous example of this pattern was John McCain's trip to Iraq earlier this year, when he took a quick trip out of the Green Zone to an outdoor market, then announced that "there are neighborhoods in Baghdad where you and I could walk through those neighborhoods today.” Of course, at the time McCain failed to mention that he was wearing body armor and walking with 100 American soldiers with M-4s with four air assault helicopters circling overhead.
More recently, two Brookings Institution scholars wrote an absolutely inane opinion piece in The New York Times making all sorts of claims about how safe Iraq is. Of course, they were in country for all of eight days, time almost entirely spent in the Green Zone. "It goes without saying that everyone can, and in this country should, have an opinion about the war, no matter how much time the person has spent in Iraq, if any," Finer writes. "But ... those who pass quickly through the war zone should stop ascribing their epiphanies to what are largely ceremonial visits."
Friday, August 17, 2007
Soldiers
I've met a lot of soldiers over the past several weeks, and I've realized that most of them are really, really good guys. Today I got to see a reenlistment ceremony, which I found more powerful than I expected. I was in a fairly dangerous area of Iraq, and these guys are voluntarily joining up for another several years knowing that the first part of that time will be spent in scary circumstances. Since I've never had any military connection and grew up in a fairly anti-military environment (oh Berkeley...), this probably surprised me more than it would an average American.
The other part of today that made an effect on my was a top general's interaction with a platoon leader. When generals visit combat outposts, they generally bring small commemorative coins to present to people doing an especially good job. In this case, Gen. Rick Lynch, who essentially commands everything south of Baghdad, was presenting coins to two specialists and their direct supervisor. While Lynch was giving the coins to the specialists, the platoon leader was just beaming. But then Lynch turned to give a coin to him, and he got extremely uncomfortable. He stammered something to the effect of "Oh, thank you sir, but I'd rather you just recognize my guys without me. They're the ones who carry the load." Of course, Lynch insisted on giving him one, and although he accepted it he was clearly uncomfortable with the recognition. He kept turning the coin over in his hands looking extremely distressed, torn between wanting to be respectful and being unhappy about being elevated in that way.
As the platoon leader was contemplating what to do with this coin, another one of his soldiers walked up just as Lynch was turning away. The platoon leader's eyes brightened, and he turned to the soldier. He handed him the coin, saying "Gen. Lynch wanted to give this to you, but I told him you were working too hard to come out." The soldier, who was probably 19 or 20, looked thrilled, and the platoon leader looked totally relieved that he had found a solution. It was refreshing to see someone who was so committed to recognizing the people below him rather than himself.
The other part of today that made an effect on my was a top general's interaction with a platoon leader. When generals visit combat outposts, they generally bring small commemorative coins to present to people doing an especially good job. In this case, Gen. Rick Lynch, who essentially commands everything south of Baghdad, was presenting coins to two specialists and their direct supervisor. While Lynch was giving the coins to the specialists, the platoon leader was just beaming. But then Lynch turned to give a coin to him, and he got extremely uncomfortable. He stammered something to the effect of "Oh, thank you sir, but I'd rather you just recognize my guys without me. They're the ones who carry the load." Of course, Lynch insisted on giving him one, and although he accepted it he was clearly uncomfortable with the recognition. He kept turning the coin over in his hands looking extremely distressed, torn between wanting to be respectful and being unhappy about being elevated in that way.
As the platoon leader was contemplating what to do with this coin, another one of his soldiers walked up just as Lynch was turning away. The platoon leader's eyes brightened, and he turned to the soldier. He handed him the coin, saying "Gen. Lynch wanted to give this to you, but I told him you were working too hard to come out." The soldier, who was probably 19 or 20, looked thrilled, and the platoon leader looked totally relieved that he had found a solution. It was refreshing to see someone who was so committed to recognizing the people below him rather than himself.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
21st century barbarism
I never read editorials. I don't like that a group of people sitting in an office can shape the direction of the country by writing about places they've never been and people they've never spoken to. That said, I read today's Washington Post editorial about Iraq because it was the most-read story on the web site, and I felt compelled to link to it here.
I actually can't decide what I think about this piece on its merits. The only conclusion seems to be that the situation is bad in Baghdad, which anybody could have told you. But despite -- or maybe because of -- its lack of recommendations, I found it particularly powerful.
Despite the fact that this writer has never been to Iraq, he managed to capture some pretty common sentiments among the people I interact with here. There's no difference other than scale between this attack and the ones that happen every day within a five-minute's drive of my office. But despite the fact that it's 250 miles away from here, this one feels particularly sobering.
In looking for the ways to solve Iraq, it always seems to be the people with the least information that have the loudest voices. My inbox is filling up again with e-mails from people saying everything from "that moron Bush needs to pull out right now!" to "stupid liberals need to stop supporting the enemy." And of course, those of us on the ground know that basically all of those people are wrong, because none of the answers here are simple. I'm glad an editorial acknowledged that for once.
I actually can't decide what I think about this piece on its merits. The only conclusion seems to be that the situation is bad in Baghdad, which anybody could have told you. But despite -- or maybe because of -- its lack of recommendations, I found it particularly powerful.
"ONE REASON the debate over Iraq can seem so perplexing at times is that the nature of the violence can be so horrendous as to be nearly unfathomable. The inexcusable killing of civilians by insurgents and militias is so common as to go almost unremarked upon. But four simultaneous truck-bomb explosions in one small community in northwestern Iraq on Tuesday night, all directed against defenseless civilians, provided a savage and jarring reminder."
Despite the fact that this writer has never been to Iraq, he managed to capture some pretty common sentiments among the people I interact with here. There's no difference other than scale between this attack and the ones that happen every day within a five-minute's drive of my office. But despite the fact that it's 250 miles away from here, this one feels particularly sobering.
In looking for the ways to solve Iraq, it always seems to be the people with the least information that have the loudest voices. My inbox is filling up again with e-mails from people saying everything from "that moron Bush needs to pull out right now!" to "stupid liberals need to stop supporting the enemy." And of course, those of us on the ground know that basically all of those people are wrong, because none of the answers here are simple. I'm glad an editorial acknowledged that for once.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
The daily miracle
Journalists often refer to a published newspaper as "the daily miracle" -- meaning, of course, that it's a miracle the thing comes out every day. I got to see that concept epitomized last night at The Washington Post's office in Baghdad.
The Post had filed a story around 9:30 p.m. leading with a truck bomb attack on a bridge on the outskirts of Baghdad and also reporting four American soldiers killed in combat and the kidnapping of the country's deputy oil minister in Baghdad. At 11 p.m., they received an e-mail saying five additional troops had died in a helicopter crash in Anbar province. Nine soldiers dead in one day is pretty significant, so the reporter decided to update the story to lead with that information. Around the same time, a stringer up north called to say that 20 people had been killed in a series of car bomb attacks near the village of Sinjar, around the Syrian border. By Iraq standards, 20 is not that many, so the reporter chose to slip in two paragraphs near the middle of the article.
Then all hell broke loose. The first indication that more than 20 people had died in the car bombings came via a TV breaking news alert. Like I've said here before, Iraqi TV stations have a tendency to announce blatantly wrong information, so this wasn't necessarily true, but it was worth checking. But then the phone rang again: at least 175 dead. The reporters, totally unprepared for this, sprang into action.
The villages where these bombings took place, small enclaves of Yazidi people, do their best to be disconnected from the outside world. There is no internet access for 100 miles around and most of the people don't have phones. The nearest Post stringer was in Mosul, the closestlarge city, with no way of getting to the area. The reporters were starting to think they'd have to print a boring, "according to the Iraqi Army" story with no witness quotes. They were working on gathering context and updating death tolls, adrenaline pumping, holding out a glimmer of hope that the stringer might find someone to talk to.
I still don't totally understand how it happened, but around 3 a.m. the stringer called, saying he had gotten in touch with a man in his hospital bed in the nearest town. The man explained what had happened to him and said he didn't know where his family was. The stringer tracked down one other witness who added supporting details. The result was a string of heart-breaking quotes that created a dynamic front-page article. And although the lead byline (and thus most of the credit) went to the American reporter, it was the stringer and a translator who deserve it.
Making it even better, The New York Times, the Post's chief rival on Iraq stories (and everything else) managed to get only the official side of the story -- no witness quotes, no glimpse into what it was like to be there. The Post story is here; the Times' is here -- notice a difference? It prompted a Post editor to e-mail the reporters the following message:
"on a story of global importance you got the best story in the world... congrats. good feeling, huh?"
That, my friends, is the daily miracle. I could get into this whole journalism thing.
The Post had filed a story around 9:30 p.m. leading with a truck bomb attack on a bridge on the outskirts of Baghdad and also reporting four American soldiers killed in combat and the kidnapping of the country's deputy oil minister in Baghdad. At 11 p.m., they received an e-mail saying five additional troops had died in a helicopter crash in Anbar province. Nine soldiers dead in one day is pretty significant, so the reporter decided to update the story to lead with that information. Around the same time, a stringer up north called to say that 20 people had been killed in a series of car bomb attacks near the village of Sinjar, around the Syrian border. By Iraq standards, 20 is not that many, so the reporter chose to slip in two paragraphs near the middle of the article.
Then all hell broke loose. The first indication that more than 20 people had died in the car bombings came via a TV breaking news alert. Like I've said here before, Iraqi TV stations have a tendency to announce blatantly wrong information, so this wasn't necessarily true, but it was worth checking. But then the phone rang again: at least 175 dead. The reporters, totally unprepared for this, sprang into action.
The villages where these bombings took place, small enclaves of Yazidi people, do their best to be disconnected from the outside world. There is no internet access for 100 miles around and most of the people don't have phones. The nearest Post stringer was in Mosul, the closestlarge city, with no way of getting to the area. The reporters were starting to think they'd have to print a boring, "according to the Iraqi Army" story with no witness quotes. They were working on gathering context and updating death tolls, adrenaline pumping, holding out a glimmer of hope that the stringer might find someone to talk to.
I still don't totally understand how it happened, but around 3 a.m. the stringer called, saying he had gotten in touch with a man in his hospital bed in the nearest town. The man explained what had happened to him and said he didn't know where his family was. The stringer tracked down one other witness who added supporting details. The result was a string of heart-breaking quotes that created a dynamic front-page article. And although the lead byline (and thus most of the credit) went to the American reporter, it was the stringer and a translator who deserve it.
Making it even better, The New York Times, the Post's chief rival on Iraq stories (and everything else) managed to get only the official side of the story -- no witness quotes, no glimpse into what it was like to be there. The Post story is here; the Times' is here -- notice a difference? It prompted a Post editor to e-mail the reporters the following message:
"on a story of global importance you got the best story in the world... congrats. good feeling, huh?"
That, my friends, is the daily miracle. I could get into this whole journalism thing.
Monday, August 13, 2007
This American Life
This post has nothing to do in Iraq, except that this is a discovery I made when we were trapped in the house for four days last week because of a total vehicle curfew for a Shiite pilgrimage. I think I may be the last person I know to discover This American Life, and JFR/IVK/MHG/SEK/CPR have certainly done their fair share of telling me to start listening to it, but it took me until last week. Now, of course, I'm totally obsessed.
For the other people out there who live under a rock like me, This American Life is a public radio program that is produced in Chicago* every week. The basic structure is that they take a theme and record a series of "acts" about that theme. These are usually people talking about life experiences, but occasionally there's fiction involved (in my opinion, the non-fiction parts are so much better). All of the past episodes are available for free on their web site. It's a totally addicting way to spend an hour.
If you've never heard the show or just aren't a regular listener, here's a list of my favorites to start with. Most of them are about seemingly mundane themes, but they're fantastic. I've probably only heard about 15 episodes, so if you're a junkie too, tell me your favorites!
Notes on Camp: Stories about the kinds of camps that become a huge part of kids' identities. I went to a couple of different camps as a kid but never had the classic experience of going back year after year (and now I get jealous when OFH tells stories!), so I lived vicariously through this program.
Somewhere in the Arabian Sea: All about life in a war zone... sort of. Stories about people living on an aircraft carrier during the War on Terror. The first act is about the woman who stocks the ship's vending machines, who has only seen the outside world once in the several months she's been onboard. Plus, there's a totally hilarious interview with a guy who joined the military instead of going to jail.
Classifieds: Stories culled from one day's classified ads. Ever wondered about why somebody is selling their brand-new Mercedes or what that crazy personal ad means? Me too. Listen.
Recordings for Someone: A must-hear if you went to CU, it's the story about the most famous ROLM phone message ever! Totally hilarious, with some more serious but no less valuable stuff toward the end.
The Ten Commandments: A sometimes funny, often poignant look at the 10 Commandments, with a different story for each one. Everything from an examination of "Thou shall not kill" in a war zone to a tale of a 10-year-old boy who can't take his own name in vain.
*Update! IVK's mommy informs me that This American Life has moved to New York, which is tremendously sad because I have never been to Chicago and liked learning things about it from Ira. And let's be honest, as much as I love New York, it has a bratty tendency to hog all the good stuff. But I'm confused, because the TAL homepage still says "Chicago Public Radio Presents" in big blue letters at the top. Chicago people and Ira loyalists, explain please.
p.s. Is the tv show any good?
For the other people out there who live under a rock like me, This American Life is a public radio program that is produced in Chicago* every week. The basic structure is that they take a theme and record a series of "acts" about that theme. These are usually people talking about life experiences, but occasionally there's fiction involved (in my opinion, the non-fiction parts are so much better). All of the past episodes are available for free on their web site. It's a totally addicting way to spend an hour.
If you've never heard the show or just aren't a regular listener, here's a list of my favorites to start with. Most of them are about seemingly mundane themes, but they're fantastic. I've probably only heard about 15 episodes, so if you're a junkie too, tell me your favorites!
Notes on Camp: Stories about the kinds of camps that become a huge part of kids' identities. I went to a couple of different camps as a kid but never had the classic experience of going back year after year (and now I get jealous when OFH tells stories!), so I lived vicariously through this program.
Somewhere in the Arabian Sea: All about life in a war zone... sort of. Stories about people living on an aircraft carrier during the War on Terror. The first act is about the woman who stocks the ship's vending machines, who has only seen the outside world once in the several months she's been onboard. Plus, there's a totally hilarious interview with a guy who joined the military instead of going to jail.
Classifieds: Stories culled from one day's classified ads. Ever wondered about why somebody is selling their brand-new Mercedes or what that crazy personal ad means? Me too. Listen.
Recordings for Someone: A must-hear if you went to CU, it's the story about the most famous ROLM phone message ever! Totally hilarious, with some more serious but no less valuable stuff toward the end.
The Ten Commandments: A sometimes funny, often poignant look at the 10 Commandments, with a different story for each one. Everything from an examination of "Thou shall not kill" in a war zone to a tale of a 10-year-old boy who can't take his own name in vain.
*Update! IVK's mommy informs me that This American Life has moved to New York, which is tremendously sad because I have never been to Chicago and liked learning things about it from Ira. And let's be honest, as much as I love New York, it has a bratty tendency to hog all the good stuff. But I'm confused, because the TAL homepage still says "Chicago Public Radio Presents" in big blue letters at the top. Chicago people and Ira loyalists, explain please.
p.s. Is the tv show any good?
Halfway there
It's hard to believe, but my time in Iraq is slightly more than halfway over (I return to the States on Sept. 11). The frustrating part of that, of course, is that I feel like it's taken me this long to get comfortable here. It's not just that I know the difference between Mansour and Saydiya or that I can recite the entire family history of Moqtada al-Sadr, it's that I have Iraqi friends, that I have finally gotten used to the food at home, that I have a username and password for the internal al-Qaeda in Iraq web site. Although I don't plan to call Iraq home any time soon, I feel nearly as comfortable here as I do in Washington.
Of course, the biggest thing I miss about the U.S. is the people. The worst part of this experience is that it can feel a bit isolating at times because the people I'm closest to aren't here. And as much as I've tried to communicate the experience through this blog, I'm not nearly a good enough writer to express Iraq. It doesn't mean I'll stop trying, though.
Of course, the biggest thing I miss about the U.S. is the people. The worst part of this experience is that it can feel a bit isolating at times because the people I'm closest to aren't here. And as much as I've tried to communicate the experience through this blog, I'm not nearly a good enough writer to express Iraq. It doesn't mean I'll stop trying, though.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Gen. Petraeus
I met David Petraeus, the top U.S. military commander in Iraq, for the first time today. Actually, I spent a very long, very hot, very dusty day following him around Taji and the surrounding area. The already brutal day was made more so by a couple of particularly hellish helicopter landings. Most notably, our pilot noticed an IED on the road we were about to touch own onto, so we hit the ground for a split second and shot straight back up. It was especially unpleasant for those of us with weak stomachs.
I attended a briefing with Petraeus, who has pulled off the unbelievable feat of being wildly popular while being in charge of a wildly unpopular war. I have to admit, I see the appeal. He's relatively young and very charismatic -- the kind of guy who manages to convince everyone that he is their best friend. He's clearly pretty brilliant, too -- 10th in his class at West Point and a master's and Ph.D from Princeton, and it shows.
I watched Petraeus take questions from a handful of reporters, which was an interesting experience. Most military officials (or politicians, or CEOs) will assure reporters immediately that everything is rosy and any tiny little problems are far overshadowed by the successes. But like I say, Petraeus is brilliant, so he realizes cynical reporter types will see right through that. So instead, he starts with the problems. He says things like "I'm not going to tell you everything is perfect, because it's not. We've got problems x, y and z." By the end of his spiel today, he had still talked far more about the successes than the problems, but the reporters were less inclined to totally dismiss everything he said because he lured them in with a tiny bit of what they wanted to hear. Smart move.
All in all, a totally fascinating guy I would like to know more about. I can highly recommend this article about him, by a guy who ended up writing his biography.
I attended a briefing with Petraeus, who has pulled off the unbelievable feat of being wildly popular while being in charge of a wildly unpopular war. I have to admit, I see the appeal. He's relatively young and very charismatic -- the kind of guy who manages to convince everyone that he is their best friend. He's clearly pretty brilliant, too -- 10th in his class at West Point and a master's and Ph.D from Princeton, and it shows.
I watched Petraeus take questions from a handful of reporters, which was an interesting experience. Most military officials (or politicians, or CEOs) will assure reporters immediately that everything is rosy and any tiny little problems are far overshadowed by the successes. But like I say, Petraeus is brilliant, so he realizes cynical reporter types will see right through that. So instead, he starts with the problems. He says things like "I'm not going to tell you everything is perfect, because it's not. We've got problems x, y and z." By the end of his spiel today, he had still talked far more about the successes than the problems, but the reporters were less inclined to totally dismiss everything he said because he lured them in with a tiny bit of what they wanted to hear. Smart move.
All in all, a totally fascinating guy I would like to know more about. I can highly recommend this article about him, by a guy who ended up writing his biography.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Food, redux
I am pleased to say that the food has gotten considerably better, mainly because our night cook is on vacation and the woman filling in has less of a fondness for mystery meat. The hummus is back in full force, plus some real vegetables, chicken, etc. Not bad.
That being said, I plan to go on an eating tour of the Bay Area and New York when I get back. I am craving several things:
In the Bay Area
Gordo's burrito (perhaps I can convince them to open a location in DC to make up for the abysmal lack of good burritos)
Cheeseboard pizza
Yank Sing dim sum (Mom, plan for a trip...)
My mother's crab (are you taking notes?)
In 'n Out burger
some good beer
In New York
Max Soha pasta
Corner Bistro burger
EJ's grits
Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory vanilla
Pam Real Thai
more good beer
Yep, that should pretty much take care of it. Yum.
That being said, I plan to go on an eating tour of the Bay Area and New York when I get back. I am craving several things:
In the Bay Area
Gordo's burrito (perhaps I can convince them to open a location in DC to make up for the abysmal lack of good burritos)
Cheeseboard pizza
Yank Sing dim sum (Mom, plan for a trip...)
My mother's crab (are you taking notes?)
In 'n Out burger
some good beer
In New YorkMax Soha pasta
Corner Bistro burger
EJ's grits
Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory vanilla
Pam Real Thai
more good beer
Yep, that should pretty much take care of it. Yum.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Helicopter photos
I can't turn down a request from my favorite photojournalist, so here are some photos from my helicopter ride to Baquba. The quality isn't great -- the combination of a point-and-shoot camera, a fast-moving helicopter, a fairly restrictive seatbelt and a non-photojournalist shooting -- but they're kind of fun to look at. There are also photos of me in my helmet and body armor, which I will not post here but will put on Facebook (and e-mail to my mother, who is banned from creating a Facebook profile).
Actually, the photo layout options in Blogger are terrible for multiple photos, so just go here.
Actually, the photo layout options in Blogger are terrible for multiple photos, so just go here.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Oh man
I didn't bring nearly enough Carmex to Baghdad. This is a problem of epic proportions for an admitted junkie. My lips may fall off.
The main reason for this sentiment at this particular moment in time is that today I had my first helicopter ride. When it is hot outside, troops leave the sliding doors on both sides of the helicopter open. For the person in the front row of back seats, this causes a constant blast of hot air directly in your face.
I had been warned about this before leaving on my trip to Baquba (zoom out for some context) and advised not to sit in the two seats by the doors. On the way in I successfully avoided it, landing in a (closed) window seat in the back row. On the way back to Baghdad, I got unlucky -- last person to the chopper gets the tornado seat! I think the dust is permanently embedded in my face (this is after a shower and a copious amount of moisturizer), and my lips... oh man.
On a related note, wearing 30 pounds of body armor and a five-pound helmet when it's 130 degrees outside is not so pleasant. I felt like I was about to fall over all day long.
All that being said, though, the helicopter ride was pretty cool. Maybe when I'm less tired I will post photos taken from the sky. They mostly show desert, which is kind of a boring thing to photograph, but I had fun doing it. There's a whole lot of open desert here.
What do we think are the chances of Baghdad-produced lip balm satisfying a Carmex addict?
The main reason for this sentiment at this particular moment in time is that today I had my first helicopter ride. When it is hot outside, troops leave the sliding doors on both sides of the helicopter open. For the person in the front row of back seats, this causes a constant blast of hot air directly in your face.
I had been warned about this before leaving on my trip to Baquba (zoom out for some context) and advised not to sit in the two seats by the doors. On the way in I successfully avoided it, landing in a (closed) window seat in the back row. On the way back to Baghdad, I got unlucky -- last person to the chopper gets the tornado seat! I think the dust is permanently embedded in my face (this is after a shower and a copious amount of moisturizer), and my lips... oh man.
On a related note, wearing 30 pounds of body armor and a five-pound helmet when it's 130 degrees outside is not so pleasant. I felt like I was about to fall over all day long.
All that being said, though, the helicopter ride was pretty cool. Maybe when I'm less tired I will post photos taken from the sky. They mostly show desert, which is kind of a boring thing to photograph, but I had fun doing it. There's a whole lot of open desert here.
What do we think are the chances of Baghdad-produced lip balm satisfying a Carmex addict?
Monday, August 6, 2007
Parliament's recess
The issue of the Iraqi parliament's August recess has become hugely controversial in the U.S. (much more so than in Iraq, it seems). Most recently, I came across this Mitch Albom column arguing that the month-long vacation is ridiculous as the war is going on. Tony Snow certainly didn't help the legislators' case with his glib comment that "it's 130 degrees in Baghdad in August" since, um, there are American troops there with 80 pounds of gear on (and the rest of us are still working here too!). This seems to be the one Iraq-related topic that people across the political spectrum are riled up about. It seems to me that the outrage on the right is motivated by frustrations that there won't be any political progress made by the Sept. 15 deadline for a progress report -- and with waning Congressional support for the war, that report will be important for Bush. I tend to think that line of argument against the recess is more valid than the left's, which seems to me to be driven by some childish glee every time something goes wrong in Iraq.
All that said, I think all the criticism is misguided. First of all, as lawmakers have pointed out in numerous media accounts, the recess is constitutionally-mandated. Parliament is supposed to be in session for two four-month sessions each year, with a two-month break between each session. The two breaks can be shortened to one month at the request of the Prime Minister, but the way I read the constitution it can't be any shorter than a month.
Sure, critics say, but if they were really dedicated they would pass emergency legislation to change the statute and stick around. But let's keep in mind that many, if not most lawmakers have moved their families out of Baghdad because they could be targeted here. Without a break, parliament members would have the choice between leaving their families in Baghdad -- where members of the government and their families would be good targets for many insurgent groups -- or not seeing their spouses, children, etc. at all. Since it's not their fault that Baghdad is unsafe, punishing them like that seems unfair.
We should also remember that legislators generally work seven days a week when they are in session (and I mean holding sessions every day, not typing a few e-mails from home). The reason for the breaks is because they aren't getting time off during the rest of the year, which would seem slightly cruel.
A column (subscription only) in The New York Times a couple of weeks ago summed up one other important point nicely. I don't mean this as a political statement, or even as a criticism of Congress, just some context:
All that said, I think all the criticism is misguided. First of all, as lawmakers have pointed out in numerous media accounts, the recess is constitutionally-mandated. Parliament is supposed to be in session for two four-month sessions each year, with a two-month break between each session. The two breaks can be shortened to one month at the request of the Prime Minister, but the way I read the constitution it can't be any shorter than a month.
Sure, critics say, but if they were really dedicated they would pass emergency legislation to change the statute and stick around. But let's keep in mind that many, if not most lawmakers have moved their families out of Baghdad because they could be targeted here. Without a break, parliament members would have the choice between leaving their families in Baghdad -- where members of the government and their families would be good targets for many insurgent groups -- or not seeing their spouses, children, etc. at all. Since it's not their fault that Baghdad is unsafe, punishing them like that seems unfair.
We should also remember that legislators generally work seven days a week when they are in session (and I mean holding sessions every day, not typing a few e-mails from home). The reason for the breaks is because they aren't getting time off during the rest of the year, which would seem slightly cruel.
A column (subscription only) in The New York Times a couple of weeks ago summed up one other important point nicely. I don't mean this as a political statement, or even as a criticism of Congress, just some context:
"It is also mildly bizarre to see our lawmakers castigate the Iraqis for taking a summer recess when they themselves have just taken a break (the ''spring district work period''), which occurred even as work on a bill to provide money for our troops went uncompleted. And that's not the end of it. They are also preparing to take another siesta in August (the ''summer district work period'').
Some have argued that it's far more important for the Iraqis to meet, because they're in the middle of a war. But lest we forget, there are American men and women fighting in Afghanistan and Iraq right now. We're in the middle of a war, too."
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Good reads today
Iraq coverage in the major dailies is good reading on Sundays. Most of the time I read only as much Iraq-related journalism as I have to (which, admittedly, is a lot), but some of the Sunday stuff is too good to miss. The Washington Post has two Iraq-related enterprise stories today. The first is about the GI Bill's inability to keep pace with college tuition, which is a major problem for people coming back from Iraq. Most of the soldiers I meet here are between 18 and 22, and although many of them don't have college plans the GI Bill allows them to keep their options open. The story is here.
The second Post story is more directly about Iraq itself -- a look at the dwindling artists' community in Baghdad. People used to consider Baghdad the Paris of the Arab world, but an estimated 90 percent of artists have left the country (or been killed). There are some interesting characters in the story, both people who have chosen to leave and those who have stayed. The story is here.
The New York Times has a big political story in the Sunday magazine, but I didn't make it past the first few paragraphs. The Post has an opinion piece written by an anonymous dentist in Iraq, but I already know that Baghdad can be a depressing place to live, so I skipped that one too. They're both linked if you're interested.
The second Post story is more directly about Iraq itself -- a look at the dwindling artists' community in Baghdad. People used to consider Baghdad the Paris of the Arab world, but an estimated 90 percent of artists have left the country (or been killed). There are some interesting characters in the story, both people who have chosen to leave and those who have stayed. The story is here.
The New York Times has a big political story in the Sunday magazine, but I didn't make it past the first few paragraphs. The Post has an opinion piece written by an anonymous dentist in Iraq, but I already know that Baghdad can be a depressing place to live, so I skipped that one too. They're both linked if you're interested.
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Iraqi media
Here's the thing about Iraqi television stations: they make things up. Some of you more cynical types might think that the U.S. media does the same, but you're wrong.
Today a member of our Iraqi staff saw on a breaking news ticker at the bottom of the newscast that there was a massive protest against the government downtown. We thought this was a bit strange, especially since it was after curfew. A friend of A's lives in that neighborhood, so we called him. He was in the middle of enjoying a nice, quiet dinner with his wife. There was no protest outside, he assured us.
Okay, but maybe it was on the next street over and he just couldn't hear it. We decided to call the police station in that neighborhood, which is centrally located. The desk clerk laughed when he heard the question. "You know it's past curfew, right?" he asked A. "Well, yes, but it was on al-Shariqiya, so we figured we should check," A replied.
The officer laughed. Loudly.
"You get your news from Shariqiya?" he said. "You know they make it all up, right?"
Today a member of our Iraqi staff saw on a breaking news ticker at the bottom of the newscast that there was a massive protest against the government downtown. We thought this was a bit strange, especially since it was after curfew. A friend of A's lives in that neighborhood, so we called him. He was in the middle of enjoying a nice, quiet dinner with his wife. There was no protest outside, he assured us.
Okay, but maybe it was on the next street over and he just couldn't hear it. We decided to call the police station in that neighborhood, which is centrally located. The desk clerk laughed when he heard the question. "You know it's past curfew, right?" he asked A. "Well, yes, but it was on al-Shariqiya, so we figured we should check," A replied.
The officer laughed. Loudly.
"You get your news from Shariqiya?" he said. "You know they make it all up, right?"
Friday, August 3, 2007
Violence
This is the stuff that many of you don't want to hear about. Maybe skip this post and assume I'll write about puppies and rainbows tomorrow?
My company has never had any of its people killed in Iraq--that's 90 people. That being said, there have been a number of close calls, several recently. One of our guys was with a troop unit yesterday when mortar shells began to fall on their camp. He kept hearing them explode, coming closer and closer to where he was sleeping, and then his window shattered. When the violence stopped and he looked out his window, he saw a shell less than 10 feet away. He walked away without a scratch.
A couple of weeks ago, another one of my colleagues got caught downtown as one of the soccer games was ending. Traffic stopped and hordes of shirtless young men with AK-47s descended on the cars. Because my colleague is male, he can't cover himself up and look more or less Iraqi, so if someone had noticed he was American he could have been killed on the spot. Eventually he and the driver had to park the car and walk home, through crowds of people shooting into the air and fighting each other (and this was after a win...).
Eight car bombs have detonated in our neighborhood in the past month, killing well over 200 people and giving our house a pretty good shake each time. One of them, earlier this week, exploded on the road I take to the Green Zone about 15 minutes before I left. One day last week, four car bombs went off--all at intersections or checkpoints I had been at around those times the day before. While on the way to an appointment, my driver suddenly swerved, then pointed to an oil can he had narrowly avoided. "IED," he said. "Hit it, it goes boom."
The nature of this war is lots of random violence, which makes it occasionally scary to be here. We take every possible precaution, but there's still some luck involved. So here's to a bit more of it.
My company has never had any of its people killed in Iraq--that's 90 people. That being said, there have been a number of close calls, several recently. One of our guys was with a troop unit yesterday when mortar shells began to fall on their camp. He kept hearing them explode, coming closer and closer to where he was sleeping, and then his window shattered. When the violence stopped and he looked out his window, he saw a shell less than 10 feet away. He walked away without a scratch.
A couple of weeks ago, another one of my colleagues got caught downtown as one of the soccer games was ending. Traffic stopped and hordes of shirtless young men with AK-47s descended on the cars. Because my colleague is male, he can't cover himself up and look more or less Iraqi, so if someone had noticed he was American he could have been killed on the spot. Eventually he and the driver had to park the car and walk home, through crowds of people shooting into the air and fighting each other (and this was after a win...).
Eight car bombs have detonated in our neighborhood in the past month, killing well over 200 people and giving our house a pretty good shake each time. One of them, earlier this week, exploded on the road I take to the Green Zone about 15 minutes before I left. One day last week, four car bombs went off--all at intersections or checkpoints I had been at around those times the day before. While on the way to an appointment, my driver suddenly swerved, then pointed to an oil can he had narrowly avoided. "IED," he said. "Hit it, it goes boom."
The nature of this war is lots of random violence, which makes it occasionally scary to be here. We take every possible precaution, but there's still some luck involved. So here's to a bit more of it.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Oh, what a day
It's been one of those days when working in Iraq is an incredibly frustrating experience. When I woke up this morning, I had exactly two items on my agenda: a noon meeting and a 2 p.m. meeting, both in the Green Zone. I didn't make it to either one.
About half an hour before I was scheduled to leave for the first meeting, an explosion shook our building. We soon learned that the cause was a car bomb a few blocks from our house. We left the house shortly afterward, but as soon as we turned from our little side street onto the main road we were greeted by a mass of cars at a complete standstill. Police had immediately begun blocking roads after the bomb, so we were stuck. We had left an hour to get to the Green Zone, about five miles away, but we quickly realized we'd never make it, so we turned around and went home.
At 1 p.m., I donned my abaya and hijab again and set out for the 2 p.m. meeting. We got onto the main road with relatively little trouble this time and thought we were in the clear. But when we turned onto Abu Nuwas Street, the once-thriving strip of restaurants and shops along the Tigris, we found another complete traffic jam. We inched along for 45 minutes or so, decided we wouldn't make it to the Green Zone anywhere near 2, and turned around. In an hour of driving, we made it precisely 2.2 miles round-trip. To make matters worse, the car was threatening to overheat, so we rode without air conditioning.
And then there is the cell phone problem. For one reason or another, the entire Iraqi cell network has been out of service all day long. It makes it a bit difficult to do my job.
Here's to a better day tomorrow.
About half an hour before I was scheduled to leave for the first meeting, an explosion shook our building. We soon learned that the cause was a car bomb a few blocks from our house. We left the house shortly afterward, but as soon as we turned from our little side street onto the main road we were greeted by a mass of cars at a complete standstill. Police had immediately begun blocking roads after the bomb, so we were stuck. We had left an hour to get to the Green Zone, about five miles away, but we quickly realized we'd never make it, so we turned around and went home.
At 1 p.m., I donned my abaya and hijab again and set out for the 2 p.m. meeting. We got onto the main road with relatively little trouble this time and thought we were in the clear. But when we turned onto Abu Nuwas Street, the once-thriving strip of restaurants and shops along the Tigris, we found another complete traffic jam. We inched along for 45 minutes or so, decided we wouldn't make it to the Green Zone anywhere near 2, and turned around. In an hour of driving, we made it precisely 2.2 miles round-trip. To make matters worse, the car was threatening to overheat, so we rode without air conditioning.
And then there is the cell phone problem. For one reason or another, the entire Iraqi cell network has been out of service all day long. It makes it a bit difficult to do my job.
Here's to a better day tomorrow.
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