If a ball drops in New York, but soldiers do not see it, does that mean the New Year will not come to Iraq? I keep asking soldiers what they are doing tonight and they all shrug, like what do you think I'll be doing? There is nothing to do. After all the celebrations for Christmas, soldiers are weary of trying to pretend that they can change the scene, that they can replace missing families with movies or barbeques, like alcohol, they only take the pain away for a bit.
I know I am tired of the ugliness here, the cramped quarters, the poverty outside these high walls, the endless terror out in the streets, the sound of generators roaring like immortal tigers trapped in your ears and the hum of helicopters over the roof as if they could just fall in your bed and rip you to shreds.
I spent the day interviewing soldiers about rock walls built and missions to hospitals outside the wire. I took a nap and now I am tired, I could care less about finding something to do, somewhere to go, sometimes the quiet times are best here. Sometimes the loneliness, like blankets that cover your head, is comforting, like a secret you won't ever be asked to tell.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Happy Birthday to me!!
This would have been the worst birthday ever had it felt like it was actually my birthday. Not that a few people did not try to make it memorable. One soldier presented me with bubble wrap as a gift, which was actually quite a nice stress reliever. As we watched Monty Python's Holy Grail, my choice, and ate pizza, I happily popped my plastics bubbles.
I spent the morning on the phone interviewing an interpreter from Darfur. For the rest of the day I attempted to write a story about rock climbing, but it's been so long since I've been out on real rock I seem to have forgotten what it is all about.
On the positive side, I had Internet access all day and was able to view the many heartfelt messages sent by friends and families on Facebook. To everyone who thought of me yesterday, thank you so much, you have no idea what it means to feel loved while so far from home.
On the negative side, I was hoping the soldiers would let me do whatever I wanted and be extra nice to me since it was my birthday, but apparently they didn't agree. "Now you're gonna be the old chick at the bar," one soldier joked. When I announced to another soldier it was my special day he responded, "eat shit."
happy Birthday to me!!!
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Looking Back
These Things I've seen
This last month, I’ve played pool with an Iraqi contractor and ate dinner cooked by a Nepalese man outside a carpet shop, where the owner rolled out a $35,000 rug. I tasted sheep liver with Turkish engineers, played cards with Bangladeshi maintenance workers in Balad, Iraq. I’ve danced with Iraqi police and council men in Camp Korean Village, Iraq.
I’ve flown on numerous Blackhawk missions overlooking Iraqi villages and crops. I’ve watched soldiers fix a blown tire during a convoy to Scania, Iraq. I’ve had days where I can’t seem to move and days where the whole world seems open with limited potential. I no longer want to be in this place, but can’t imagine being home.
Saying goodbye
Yes, I will miss this place. I will miss late night Scrabble games with the soldiers. I will miss the bouldering wall Sgt. Cornick built in the hangar, those nights when we seemed to escape from Iraq for a few hours. I will miss the peace of the flight line at night when everyone has gone to sleep.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Sudanese Refugees in Iraq
There is a man in Iraq, we’ll call him Sam, we cannot call him by his real name, it’s not safe for others to know his identity. He is Sudanese, he spent twenty years in Baghdad, graduating from the University of Baghdad and working as an electrician in the city before the war. Now he works as an interpreter for the US military. He went home to Baghdad for vacation some time ago, but it was not easy disguising his job, getting to and from the base without detection from the outside world. So Baghdad is no longer his home and Sudan is a place he can’t return to. He has family in Darfur, seven murdered lay under the ground and four sisters and a brother live in villages dependent on Sam’s income. He says it makes him cry to think about Darfur, to think about death, serial rapists, children cut from arms and slaughtered, villages burned in minutes, the endless sorrow in the eyes of people ripped through and through by genocide.
Sam says he finally feels safe inside the military base. He wants to be an American, away from the bombs and the blood and desolation. If he could prove he is a citizen of Iraq, his immigration would be easier, but ever since the war his documents, like so many, have been lost. Many Iraqis have lost their birth certificates and passports, but all they need is a family member or a sheik to vouch for them and papers appear in their hands. For Sam, there is no one to vouch for him; he has no family, no sheik. He is Sudanese, an orphan in these lands. The US government will help him, but these things take so much time. So he’ll stay with the military as long as possible. He is stuck, but he is safe and his money flows out to Sudan.
I wish you could meet Sam, see him smile like sunlight and shake his hands warmly. I wish could hear him proclaim his gratitude for his wood hut, heat, food and water. I wish you could hear him say, I am happy, I am happy. I wish you could feel that truth ring out sincerely. I wish you could walk away with the bitterness I feel, with that ache and anger at a world where so many horrors occur.
Sam is not the only Sudanese working in Iraq. Near a small base in western Iraq, there is a camp of nearly a hundred Sudanese refugees living in poverty. Soldiers serving in Iraq,and I are gathering some items this holiday season to share with the Sudanese. We are not able to send comfort to the multitudes suffering in Darfur because in March the president of Sudan removed humanitarian aid groups that have provided basic life support to over 2 million displaced people in Darfur. The death toll is already between 200,000 to 400, 000 in Sudan and has the potential to reach even higher. For more information about the Darfur conflict go to:
www.savedarfur.org or to read the New York Times coverage google “Kristof Darfur”.
We can send some comfort to the Sudanese camp in Iraq and let them know someone is thinking of them, that the lives of their people are still in the hearts and minds of at least a few Americans.
Care packages with these following items will be greatly appreciated:
1.Non-perishable food, rice, canned fruits and vegetables, dried fruits, nuts, crackers, coffee, tea, etc.(please no pork items)
2.Toiletries: toothbrushes, floss, toothpaste, deodorant, lotion, eye drops, vitamins, band-aids, ointment, wet wipes, etc.
3.Blankets and warm clothes.
Please send to:
Emanuel Salazar
S-2 LEP Office
1st BCT 504 Red Devils
Korean Village Iraq
FPO AE 09371
Sam says he finally feels safe inside the military base. He wants to be an American, away from the bombs and the blood and desolation. If he could prove he is a citizen of Iraq, his immigration would be easier, but ever since the war his documents, like so many, have been lost. Many Iraqis have lost their birth certificates and passports, but all they need is a family member or a sheik to vouch for them and papers appear in their hands. For Sam, there is no one to vouch for him; he has no family, no sheik. He is Sudanese, an orphan in these lands. The US government will help him, but these things take so much time. So he’ll stay with the military as long as possible. He is stuck, but he is safe and his money flows out to Sudan.
I wish you could meet Sam, see him smile like sunlight and shake his hands warmly. I wish could hear him proclaim his gratitude for his wood hut, heat, food and water. I wish you could hear him say, I am happy, I am happy. I wish you could feel that truth ring out sincerely. I wish you could walk away with the bitterness I feel, with that ache and anger at a world where so many horrors occur.
Sam is not the only Sudanese working in Iraq. Near a small base in western Iraq, there is a camp of nearly a hundred Sudanese refugees living in poverty. Soldiers serving in Iraq,and I are gathering some items this holiday season to share with the Sudanese. We are not able to send comfort to the multitudes suffering in Darfur because in March the president of Sudan removed humanitarian aid groups that have provided basic life support to over 2 million displaced people in Darfur. The death toll is already between 200,000 to 400, 000 in Sudan and has the potential to reach even higher. For more information about the Darfur conflict go to:
www.savedarfur.org or to read the New York Times coverage google “Kristof Darfur”.
We can send some comfort to the Sudanese camp in Iraq and let them know someone is thinking of them, that the lives of their people are still in the hearts and minds of at least a few Americans.
Care packages with these following items will be greatly appreciated:
1.Non-perishable food, rice, canned fruits and vegetables, dried fruits, nuts, crackers, coffee, tea, etc.(please no pork items)
2.Toiletries: toothbrushes, floss, toothpaste, deodorant, lotion, eye drops, vitamins, band-aids, ointment, wet wipes, etc.
3.Blankets and warm clothes.
Please send to:
Emanuel Salazar
S-2 LEP Office
1st BCT 504 Red Devils
Korean Village Iraq
FPO AE 09371
Friday, December 4, 2009
Boys Just Want to Have Fun
On a recent trip to Al Asad, Iraq, one of the new bases the Medevac crew is calling home, I was happy to see some people aren't letting the desert get them down. Spc. Grant McRobert built this skimboard out of leftover wood. For a moment you can almost imagine he is somewhere tropical, with the blue sky and palm tree, but alas the brown water and port-a-potty tells a different story. To add insult to injury poor McRobert was out there in 40 degree temperatures. Who said Medevac's not hardcore?
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