Groundhog Day...

It has been a long time since I written here in this blog. A lot has happen but nothing has happened. I have gotten into my routine, which seems to consist on getting up, going to see my counterpart, give the usual greetings, drink chi and find something that needs attention. There is always something that needs to be done or addressed but it is difficult to actually find the underlying cause of things and make a difference.

We are having trouble with the power and spent a few days with it gone for most of the day. It was utterly annoying. The heat was creeping into our rooms and there was no escaping it. I just decided to sleep most of the time during the day but then I developed a weird kind of insomnia that I am still trying to shake off.

Trace and the kids went on vacation to California and had a great time. I wish I would have been there but the Army seems to need me more at this time. It is amazing the little things that I have learned to appreciate while being here, i.e. I would give anything to be there and change all the crappy diapers Vance had because at least I would be there.

Life here is like Groundhog Day every day, it seems like I am living the same day repeatedly. I have been deployed for two months now and it feels like I have been here forever. Once the workday is over there is absolutely nothing to do but to listen to music, play cards or watch movies. I cannot go and run by myself so that’s out of the question and any of you that has ran with me before know that it is not fun to run with me.

I have been reading a book name “Lucky” from Alice Seabold. It is a good book and it has me hooked. Besides that…nothing going on here. The news back home are still the same, I watch the news in disbelief; how can they forget about us like that? There is so much going on here, so many stories, so many successes and failures but I still see that the coverage is minimal. It is too sad but then again, out of sight, out of mind, right. Isn’t that the effect they were aiming for? "We" fight the war there so they can forget about it here--meaning the mainland. Well, as Borat would say: “Great success!!!” I think they have achieved it.

I hope that this post find everyone of you in good health and that you are enjoying the summer. Remember to write and to keep me in your thoughts. I miss being home…

Some important Information...

Because of the difficulties we encounter by not being inside an American FOB, I have signed our team to be sponsored by the Any Soldier organization. This organization sends care packages to soldiers deployed around the globe. They work on donations and yes, you can volunteer to sponsor a soldier or a unit. Please visit their website by clicking on the hyperlink above if you wish to volunteer. You will find our team under my name if you wish to send something this way.Click here and it will re-direct you to the web page. Thank you.

Happy 4th Of July

Happy 4th of July! We began to celebrate our American holiday by not going to work today. The cooks from the other teams together with our cook spent all day cooking a 4th of July feast for us. It was nice to relax for one day and not have to get up to go to work. At nighttime, as I watch the silly fireworks display we had, I started to think about what this day really means to our country. Funny, I never really thought about it in such an appreciative way; to me it was just another day off to see fireworks and go camping with my family and friends—not mentioning a reminder of my anniversary. I began to try to define what freedom, independence, and democracy meant for me. Almost inevitably, I wondered what it meant for the Iraqi people whilst a couple of stories invaded my head making me change what I thought was a solid view on what freedom really means….

Excerpts from my journal:
“…The TV is always on in their office and this time, instead of a movie or an American show, we were watching the trial of—whom they call—Chemical Ali. He was one of Saddam Hussein’s officers who gain the nickname of Chemical Ali because he was behind most of the chemical attacks against the Kurds and other misfortunate people.

While watching the trial, our interpreter, David, started to tell me that Chemical Ali killed his father and a lot of his family. He said that his family used to live in the countryside north of Kirkuk and they were told they had to move to the city so they packed up and started their journey. Once there, they were separated into the ones that were farmers, the ones that were businesspersons, and so far and so on. After they were separated, they were all gassed, or buried alive…women, children, and old people. He said that only a few skilled people were left alive to serve the Saddam regime. He was happy to see that Chemical Ali was being hung. MAJ Hood was happy also, he said that Ali deserved to die because he was a bad man and he tortured many people....”

“…It was then that I met Miguel, one of the permanent interpreters assigned to us. As he mopped the kitchen floor, he introduced himself to me and we began to talk about his background.”

Miguel was born and raised in Iraq, he lived in Baghdad when the war started. He graduated the University when he was 21 with an Electronic Engineering Bachelors Degree following the footsteps of his siblings who are also engineers. His parents taught all the children to speak English and that is how, after the war started, Miguel started working with coalition forces as an interpreter. His loyalty to the coalition forces put his life in danger and he became a wanted man in Baghdad so the Army transferred him to Tikrit to protect him from assassination but word got around and shortly after his transfer, he was a wanted man in Tikrit also.

Finally, he moved to Kirkuk to work in K-1 with as an interpreter to the MTR (Motor Truck Regiment). Less than a year ago, while he was coming back from his vacation—what we US soldiers know as leave—he was shot and wounded on his left leg. Again, word traveled about his transfer and he now has a $20,000 bounty on his head.

I asked Miguel what he thought about it and if he ever thought about quitting to which he answer: ‘I do not care about the bounty because I believe in what I am doing and I am not going to quit. They can keep looking for me. 'I was blown away by the response I could only tell him: ‘Thank you, I appreciate what you do'.

Walking back to my room, I thought about the two stories I heard today from both interpreters and I wonder if I would be so courageous and dedicated to a cause—or the hope for better days—to put my life in danger every day. How much would I put on the line for what I believe in?

These are the stories that make you wish that what we have done here will eventually work. This is the other side of the story, the side that makes you think harder about human life because it is right in your face and there is no way to evade it. These are the times when, regardless of what I feel about the web that we have weaved here, I pray for these people to find peace someday, I pray for their children to grow up in a place when they can play without seeing the carnage of war; I pray for their freedom. I do not think that any human being deserves to live a life of hardship, not one... "

“…While we were there, I started talking to David about the government system and I told him that I had hope to which he responded: ‘I do not have hope for the future, it has always been the same and it is going to stay the same. I just think about today and what I can do to make it through.’

His thought process floored me, but after talking to him, LT Kaiser, and MAJ Hood for a while, I understood how they felt. They feel that the government is not established to help the people but to benefit their own agenda. They hope that it will get better but they do not see it happening and so, not to have hope for the future protect them from disappointment. David told me that most people do not understand what they are going through as a country. This was most of our conversation:

• David—what our country needs is not help, we need people to sympathize with us to see us as human beings and be our friends.


• Me- Do you mean that if the world sees Iraq in a different light the common people will be empowered
  
• David—yeah, they need to feel part of something and this government is not doing it. The government changes too much to make any progress.


• Me—I hope that things get better for you and your country.


• Lt Kaiser—Do you think that you would come back to Iraq if things get better?—he asked me.


• Me—It would be nice to be able to bring my kids here someday and show them where I worked and who I worked with. It would be great if they would get to see something very differenthad than what I showed them in the pictures from this tour, better.


• David—I do not think that we will see change soon. Things are very dangerous out there. My kids do not even want to go to school because they are scared of IEDs, they cannot even get a fair, peaceful education.


• Me—I cannot even imagine…


• David—…we have to wait in line for hours to get gas, what we get for cars here are the left over or stolen from Europe; they are trash and they break down all the time. But, we have to deal with what we have because we do not make enough money to get anything better.


• Me—what do people do for jobs.


• David—I have an electronic engineering degree and education degree but I cannot find a job and the best that I can do is to take this job so I can support my family. I should have a good job maybe to help government with the reconstruction of the country but I there is nothing.


• Me—I really do hope that things change and that your kids and you family get to see better, peaceful days.


• David--Inshallah (phonetic spelling not grammatically accurate)--meaning "God Willing"

I do not even talk about my house, what I have at home because it makes me feel so guilty. I am such a brat. How can I be so self-centered? There is a different feeling now when I look at what I have and sleeping in a crappy place for a few weeks means nothing now because I know that this is temporary while it is not temporary for them. "

This a before and after picture of our kitchen...

K-1, Our New Home...

My first convoy outside of the American compound was finally to move to the Iraqi Base we will call home for the next year. As soon as we cross the barriers that zigzag out of the gate, we ran into a small village. The first Iraqi civilians I saw outside of the gate were children. Two children walking up a field; one must have been close to eleven or twelve years old while the other looked barely five. The clothes, discolored and raggedy; their limbs looked fragile but they skipped through the field as if that was their playground.

Continuing our drive through the village, we saw more children on the side of the road, walking and waving goodbye to the military vehicles with huge smiles on their faces. I looked to my left and I saw four kids standing on a block, one of them close to 5 or 6 years old and completely naked from head to toe. My heart broke, my tears jumped out of my eyes. I thought of my own children and how lucky they are and how I wish that they understand that there are children in the world that walk around naked for lack of clothes or because they know no better. I could see their naïve look, the humble look of poverty written in every wave, every smile.

There were many people outside their houses, they seemed to be accustomed to see convoys drive through their areas and they did not seem hostile in any way. The most amazing pictures are permanently engraved in my heart. Regardless of how many bad people we encounter here--and there are some out there--I vow not to forget that there is also good here. I will not forget that there are also people that are trying to live a normal live, that want to farm, love their family and walk their two-year-old son down the field to check the cattle as I saw a father doing today.

K-1 has a perimeter of around 7 miles and it has a small landing strip in it. The IA soldiers guard the guard towers around the perimeter. They are tasked for week and they have to sleep and eat in the towers. The jundi (soldiers) here vary in ages, some have served in the old regime and others have not.

I met my interpreter who we will call David and the 1st Company Commander who we will call MAJ Hood—I am not using his real name to protect them. MAJ Hood has been in the Army for 22 years and was part of the old regime. He has one wife, two sons and one daughter (11, 8, and 6; I believe). His family lives south of Baghdad where he commutes when he has vacations, or when he has enough days off to make the drive. He is a Shiite and he seems knowledgeable and up to date on the company’s up-tempo. He is very concerned about the soldier’s morale and understands that better equipment and better facilities will incite the jundi not to quit the army.

The company’s XO is a shorter, smaller but feisty man name LT Kaiser. He is a good XO in every sense of the word. He knows the company as well as the commander and he will fight for what he believes is right. I was impressed with him because MAJ Eidt told me he does not follow the—micromanaged—guidance of the regiment when it comes to convoys and that he will take the initiative and do whatever it takes to protect his men and bring them home safe. I like that

While in MAJ Hood’s office, we drink chi (hot sweet tea) and talk about work, family and country. They are fascinated with the fact that my husband is taking care of the kids at home while I am here in the war. They showed appreciation for my presence and assure me that I am their sister now and they will protect me as such. He has told his company jundis that they are not allowed to disrespect me in any way and if they do, he will personally take care of them.

At lunch, I always accept their invitation to go to the Iraqi DFAC because I do not want to seem like a snob. I was surprised to see that it was quite clean and the food was not that bad at all. They had rice, beans and chicken—menu I understand is quite the hit around here.

The day is quite over after lunch, they usually pray and take naps--is the hottest part of the day--while the Americans try to catch up with their reports and other work. We live in a two story concrete building with running non-potable water and a generator that gives us electricity more times than not. We all have our own rooms here and they are about 15x15--yes, they are quite big. We all air conditioners in our rooms and ceiling fans. Since we do not have immediate American support--no dinning facility (DFAC), no Morale, Welfare and Recreation (MWR) facility, no medical station--we have to convoy to the American FOB, 6-10 miles away (depending on the route) to get mail, supplies, a doctor consult or buy any personal needs at the PX. We have a small kitchen with a temporary cook who cooks for around 25 people and does his best at cooking with what we get for Class I--food and liquid--delivered.

The bathrooms are moldy, dirty and the plumbing breaks frequently. There are three western style toilets--only two of them work--and four easter style. We have spent countless hours cleaning the area since not everybody has the same standards of living and ours seem to be a bit higher. Katie, Sonia and I spent hours cleaning the kitchen and the result was immediately evident making it a place where you would not mind eating from.

I am finally settled in my room and put my butterfly posters on the wall, butterfly stickers all over my stuff and set my butterfly puzzle on top of my table. I have 8 Armed Forces Network (AFN) channels and Internet access from my room.

Our Journey to Kirkuk

When I was a little girl, I remember our family drives to the beach—or our drives west—and knowing when we were driving pass by the refineries. The distinct smell that emanate from it was an undesirable mix of rotten eggs and sewer water times two. Even if we had been sleeping, we instantly woke up to pinch our nose and complain about the smell.

I was dreaming about eating delicious chocolate cake and I was suddenly awaken to the same disgusting smell that hunt me so many years ago. This time though, when I woke up, I opened my eyes to find a tall wall of duffle bags in front of me and two people beside me clutching riffles as the helicopter—H60 Blackhawk—was approaching its destination. We were in the Kirkuk region of northern Iraq. When I looked out the opening in the back of the helicopter, I could see flames burning marking the sites of the refineries. I nodded my head, closed my eyes and thought about how I got there…

Early in the evening, we were told that we would fly out of Taji into the Iraqi Base in Kirkuk that we are going to be working at. We packed up—once again, as we have done the past three days—loaded the bus and headed to the flight line once again. This time, we unloaded all of our bags from the trucks so I was convinced we would finally fly that night. We sat by our bags through the night, and jumped off to grab them every time we saw a Chinook land on the airfield just to sit back down and continue to wait.

Four hours after we arrived at the airfield, we were still sitting, lying, or standing around waiting for a “bird.” Of course, guess what happened when I decided that it has been a long time, that I was hungry and that I must eat; you got it, the “bird” finally arrived. So, I hurried up and put my snacks away, ran to the bags and began a series of trips back and forth from the helicopter to put our 36 duffle bags, 9 ruck sacks, and 9 other different individual carry-on’s inside.

There was not a soul in sight at K-1, we looked but there was nobody to pick us up. After much wondering, our team leader decided to fly back to FOB Warrior—the American base—and get a bed for the night—or what was left of it. Therefore, we took off again, landed in Warrior and arranged to have a place to sleep. After it was all set and done, we were traveling from place to place for two hours. We moved our bags out of the aircraft, onto the ground, into a bus and into a tent; we prepared our nasty little beds for sleeping, used the bathroom and came outside to see the sun up and that it was time to go eat breakfast. We ate, bathed, and ended up going to bed around 0630 in the morning; it was a long day.