Not a holiday but a reflection day...

It is another Thanksgiving away from home but this one is by far the most difficult one ever. I tried to get involved in the Thanksgiving preparations so I would not dismiss the day from my mind yet, but it is not the same when I am not with my family. We prepared some turkey breasts, ham, and smoked beef with all the traditional plates served during the festivities making it bearable for a minute or two but my eyes filled with tears as soon as we started the prayer. The Chaplain asked us to think of past Thanksgivings and my mind could not stray away from imagines of my children sitting at the dinner table waiting to get their turkey and looking forward for their desert—probably bought at the store because their poor mother can cook up a storm but cannot bake to save her life.

I sat there and pondered on the things that I am thankful for and the things that I should be thankful for. I am thankful to be alive, I am thankful that I have three beautiful wonderful children that will bring nothing but great things into this world. I am thankful to have a family that misses me and has not forgotten me. I am thankful to have friends that have shown me the true meaning of friendship and I am thankful that at least once in my life I have known the true meaning of being in love and all the sacrifices, joy and greatness that it encompasses.

I am thankful that my parents are alive and that my siblings— and I—are better than they were a few years ago. I am grateful that I have learn to learn the lessons life has tried to teach me and I am grateful that my journey will continue to test me, challenge me, and teach me from the mistakes that I might make. I am grateful to be alive and I am grateful I am not made of stone.

I could continue to write all the things I am grateful for but I think that all I need to say it that I am grateful…

The Fakeness Of It All...

I despise many things about people’s characters but for now I am going to stick this one; I really dislike people that are phony, not genuine, false, fake, bogus an imitation of who they think people would like to see. I find it entertaining and sad that some people write emails, posts blogs or make comments on websites using words—incorrectly—they do not usually use in daily conversations because they want to pretend to be intelligent but failing miserable at it. Here in Iraq, dealing with this “army,” I am constantly reminded of the pretending game because the real advancement of this mission—as it was presented to me back in the U.S.—is far from being accomplished but some are still pretending that there is real progress being made. For the sake of my principles, I will adhere to write this post in the most colloquial idiom possible in an effort to assure my AUDIENCE—all one or two of you—the comprehension of the opinions contained in this entry….

HA HA HA! Did you like that?...Yeah, I might be trying to sound smarter. I have to take advantage of the occasion since my accent cannot ruin my pronunciation… 

Anyway, I have already started talking about the challenges that we faced here by attempting to establish some kind of standards within the Iraqi Army. Nevertheless, our efforts continue to be somewhat ignored by the people that we are trying to help. Here is the continuation of things that have changed my attitude tremendously.

• False Pretenses

As I stated above, I truly enjoy seeing things and people for who they are and what they are. The line between who people are and who they want to be is very blurred here. We are put in a position here where we do not really know who is friend and who is foe. Appearances are a constant here; there is no reality or accurate way to know and trust any of the people that we are working with. We could be teaching techniques to somebody that in turn will teach it to our enemies.

Still, in the grand scheme of this wartime political facade, once in while we get to see firsthand how important it is to be always on guard. We recently had to fired three of our interpreters; two of them for not passing their background check and another one for being borderline belligerent. In the aftermath of it all, the thought of “sleeping with the enemy”—literally—could not exit my thick skull. The most alarming factor is that those interpreters had been working with the other teams that preceded us but they somehow fell through the cracks. How did that happen? Another thing that caught my attention is the fallible perception the Iraqis have about their country, our Country and where their support money is coming from.

From time to time, I can see the other side of the Iraqis opinion. At times, they are fed up and their true colors come shining through like lighting. For example, it is customary for the Iraqis to ask continuously for things from the Americans. I have encountered situations in which I am uncomfortable because I have had to reject their petitions. The requests range from personal hygiene products from the PX—i.e. a shampoo or a deodorant—to Gerbers, electronics and Lord knows what else. I had to explain to the MAJ I work with that the U.S. government does not supply those things and we would have to pay for them out of our own pockets but they conveniently forget about that conversation by the next time they need something else.

So, although the Iraqi army gets funded by our tax dollars and receives money to buy what is necessary, their codependency has made that money unaccountable for—there goes that accountability word again—hence making us soldiers subject to request after request for anything and everything they deemed is necessary to them. On the other side though, if you ask any of the Iraqis, they are convinced that they are a rich country and that the U.S. is only giving them the money that we are getting off the oil exported from Iraq. Please, look it up and you will understand my frustration but the most important concept here is the phony pretense of their autonomy and our implicit—and apparently resentful—benefit from being their natural resources.

Those are the products of false pretenses…

Getting close to the fire…

It was a crazy Friday this past one, we traveled to the American base and we encountered some unexpected events while there. First things first…

We were tasked with picking up some interpreters soon after arriving at the FOB, after dropping off the extra people in our vehicle we headed to the place where we—Bo and I—were instructed to go. On our way there Bo started screaming to stop the vehicle while simultaneously a large amount of smoke was taken over the inside of the vehicle. I tried to stay calm while I pulled over and jumped out of the vehicle. It is funny the things that you forget when you are stressed out…I had to go back in to turn the damn thing off and then we had to pull all the ammunition out of it since the smoke was coming out the same vicinity.

We were throwing things all over the road…I couldn't pick up the cans of belts for our machine guns—I later remembered that they were tied down—so I was literally pulling the belts out and swinging them out on the road; Bo had enough visibility and sense to untie them. I inhaled a large amount of smoke and developed an instant headache accompanied with an annoying cough but the fire stopped when we turn the vehicle off. It was an electrical fire that cooked off in the back side of our HMMV and ran to the battery—located under one of the seats inside of the vehicle—through a wire that had its insulation burnt off.

I cannot even begin to tell you all the things that ran through my head at the time. From the "what if" to "how could I not noticed something was wrong?" Needless to say, it was a long day in the FOB waiting to have our vehicle repaired along with all our communication systems. I truly believe that God was watching over us. The fact that the fire ran by the seat without setting it on fire, and the fact that it was very close to the gas tank made me truly appreciate being able to walk out of there with only a headache and a little cough.

And what about mine....

When faced with the with the possiblity of serving in Iraq--even if only for 90 days--some have asked, "Who will take are of my children when I am dead or wounded?" I was too thinking the same thing and suddenly I wondered...who will take care of mine? Would anybody offer any help to my husband if he is left with three boys and no mom? Does anybody care?....Are they as important to the leaders of our country as their own children? Judge for yourself and tell me if my life is less worthy than those that make more money than me...

Hello Diplomats! Welcome to our world!!!!

Hello, Hello, Mr. Diplomat! Welcome to Iraq--you know that place that we happened to have 150,000+ soldiers fighting for something they may or may not believe in....yes! that one...welcome!

Yes, the war that has been going on for the past 4 years “over there” (Iraq, here for me) so you won’t have to fight it—or care about it—“over here” (the U.S.) has finally caught up with you. I have to say that out of the many decisions made by the administration this one really tickled my belly and made me smile...thank you, thank you. This is the situation, in a nutshell; the civilian jobs at the Iraq embassy and the green zone have been filled by volunteer diplomats from DC. Now, after experiencing a shortage of volunteers to fill the positions here in Iraq, the Secretary of State—Condolezza Rice—has announced that the positions leftover after volunteers are accepted were going be fulfilled by other “selectees”—in a non-voluntary manner. Oh my goodness!!! The diplomats are outraged!!! Who will raise their children if there are dead or wounded? I can tell you who….

Your children can be raised by the same kind of people that are raising thousands of children in the United States of America whom have lost their mother or father in this war. That’s who!!! How dare some paper pusher to speak of the worthiness of his life as if it is much more relevant and cherished than that of our American Soldiers, Marines, Sailors and Airmen. Anyone who knows me well can imagine the choice of words I have for these people but I will refrain from the profanity in this blog…

To make their ignorance more apparent, they preceded the previous query with: “It is one thing if someone believes in what is going on over there and volunteers, […] but it is another thing to send someone over there on a forced assignment. And I'm sorry, but basically that is a potential death sentence and you know it. […]”

Bravo! What a brilliant deduction, too bad that it really does not apply to those that are working for the government and—as the soldiers do—have promise to defend the nation and be loyal to it, therefore,…you can assume that you have volunteered just like all the service members that have sworn to protect the constitution and defend our nation agreeing or disagreeing, believing or doubting…feel our pain Mr. Diplomat and welcome to our world.

This is the problem with this war…people in the U.S. are too focused on Britney Spears, Lindsey Lohan and who was kick out of Dancing with the Stars. Our society has inferred that prancing around a stage is more prestigious and important than to be of service of your country or at least have the responsibility to serve society with something of substance and not only for entertainment. What is wrong with us? Who talks about the soldiers that are sacrificing their lives? Who cares? Who carries the burden of this war?

People do not hear about the soldiers that have died and they sure do not know the aftermath of their death. They do not know what the families go through, how they cope—if they do—with the loss of a key member of their family. People just do not know and it does not seem like they care. Diplomats in the white house care about the uncertain future of their families but for the past four years thought that it was suitable for the military families to undergo the risk.

It is about time that the war starts to reach home for some people. I do not think that it is fair for my children to have to deal with the absence of their mother while some able men or women carry on their support for the war from their living room chair. If we are all in this together, then we have to all be in it! Say it like it is; these are the sacrifices of the few so the many can enjoy life as if freedom is free. …Talk about phonies

Click here to read the whole article and click here to read a related article.

A little less about work, a little more about me...

Before I continue with my tantrum about my job, I want to let you in some of the things I have been reflecting on lately. During the last few months I have realized that I am not the social butterfly I thought I was. I suddenly recognize that I am nicer than I thought I was and that I have developed an annoying habit of pleasing people even against my instinct because I do not want to hurt people’s feelings. I remember that not so long ago I was telling myself that I must be myself and let people accept me for who I am but I think those words did not sink in until now.

Even since 1997 I have made a tradition of purifying my soul during the month of October. This is the time when I have made the hardest decisions in my life but at the same time I have cleanse my aura from all the toxic relationships, friendships and bad habits that have kept me anchored. October just passed by yesterday and it was another exciting month of self awareness and discovery for Vanessa.

The most important thing that I pondered on during this month is to distinguish between the people that are my friends, my family, my loved ones and those who are acquaintances, relatives and people that I know or used to know. Being in this environment where I am forced to befriend the people around me—since there are no others to talk to—makes me rebel against the notion of being pleasant, proper and approachable. It almost pushes you to tolerate things that you would not tolerate under normal circumstances.

Overall, it was a painful and translucent month for me. The truth sometimes hurts but at the end, the truth is all that matters and it really set me free; free from the ball and chains that I tie to myself because I think it is the best way to get by. I am ready….

Making a change???

It has been a long two months without writing anything here, or anywhere for that matter. Many things have happened and my attitude has changed dramatically since the last time I wrote here. Being in this environment makes one wonder about the future and if we will ever collect the fruit of our efforts.

About my efforts…

I have worked relentlessly to make a difference and for once in my life I can say that I do not think I am making a difference here. The people that we work for seem to agree with what we suggest, nod their heads and continue to do things the way that they see fit which 97% of the time is the wrong way to do business. I will spend the next few posts explaining some of the things that have drove me to think differently. Here is the first one:

• Accountability
  I do not think there is a word in the Iraqi language equivalent to accountability and if there is one--or maybe two--they have made their best to forget the significance of it. Property here comes and goes without ever being accounted for hence there is no accurate estimate of what we do or do not have in the regiment. For example…
  
  Let’s say that we had a few new Chevy pickup trucks within the regiment and they were dispersed equally to the different companies for the commander’s use. Then, let’s say that two of those trucks disappear from the area, what you think would be one of the first questions made to the people who signed for those trucks—the responsible party as we call them in our country.
  
  Under my command, one the first things asked would be: What is the serial number of the trucks unaccounted for? Well, apparently that would be a much too difficult question to answer around here because—as I heard from one of the commanders here—why keep serial numbers? If you have 5 donkeys, then you have 5 donkeys,…it does not matter which donkey you have…
  
  Fabulous! So, in the case presented above, there is no precise way to identify those vehicles because they just do not keep track of serial numbers. I guess it will be quite a circus to go out to town and look at every Chevy truck that drives by--friend or foe; that is the Iraqi way. So, you would think that would be a story that would deter them from not keeping all the information they would need in case of the disappearance of equipment, right? Oh no!!!
  
  I spent a whole hour with the commander I work with trying to explain why we should have 100% inventory of all property—equipment--in the company. At the end of the conversation he was still not convinced that it was necessary and I resolved to make him do it against his will. The problem is that because he does not see the purpose, he will not continue to do it on his own and the result will be the vanishing of—yet—more equipment that has been financed by the US government and consequently by yours and mine tax dollars….

Would that make you lose the enthusiasm of being here?