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.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
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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