Yesterday I was talking with several of my new colleagues about the bizarre atmosphere of working here in Baghdad. It is in many ways foreign, but in others it is like being in an extension of the U.S. I could buy a pack of soda for a BBQ we were hosting last evening at the convenience store (as well as funyuns, relish, poptarts, or candy corn, among other delicacies) and use American cash or credit cards. American fare is readily available in the main cafeteria and across the compound. Many of us have landlines that connect in to U.S. area codes from our desks. There's even a blue U.S. Postal Service mailbox on one sidewalk.
This overlapping, intertwining, confusing, and contrasting of cultures impacts our personal and professional lives in a variety of ways. For some who wish to get a sense of "the real Iraq," they are disappointed. They feel caged in, trapped, insulated. For those who prefer to work in the U.S. or other more westernized countries, but were wooed to Iraq for any number of reasons (temporarily), they are disappointed at some of the more traditional non-western practices and elements that they encounter here. Communication styles, weather, systems of governance, etc can be nearly insurmountable hurdles for some. Me - it depends on the day.
Today I was walking to lunch and I heard the thuhr/dhuhr, the noontime call to prayer (adhan/athan/azan), and I realized it was the first time I had heard the call to prayer since arriving in the Middle East on Saturday evening! Now, that's not sooo surprising, since it's possible to be inside, asleep, or in a noisy place--or, say, on an airplane--and miss those times of day that coincide with the athans. But it's one of my favorite parts of being in a Muslim region, so I was keeping an ear out... and nothing!
The sound prompted a conversation about consular work in Iraq. Some colleagues in other sections have complained that seeing, or actually meeting with, "a real Iraqi" is like finding a unicorn. There is so much hoopla between the embassy and the rest of the city. Consular officers, on the other hand, have the privilege of meeting and interviewing real Iraqis every day. For that I feel lucky and truly grateful. Yes, for the most part, I'll be on one side of the window, and they on the other. But we get to see each other's faces. Speak to each other (in a language hopefully more than one of us understands). And in that way we get to engage.
Makes me happy to think about going to work tomorrow.
This overlapping, intertwining, confusing, and contrasting of cultures impacts our personal and professional lives in a variety of ways. For some who wish to get a sense of "the real Iraq," they are disappointed. They feel caged in, trapped, insulated. For those who prefer to work in the U.S. or other more westernized countries, but were wooed to Iraq for any number of reasons (temporarily), they are disappointed at some of the more traditional non-western practices and elements that they encounter here. Communication styles, weather, systems of governance, etc can be nearly insurmountable hurdles for some. Me - it depends on the day.
Today I was walking to lunch and I heard the thuhr/dhuhr, the noontime call to prayer (adhan/athan/azan), and I realized it was the first time I had heard the call to prayer since arriving in the Middle East on Saturday evening! Now, that's not sooo surprising, since it's possible to be inside, asleep, or in a noisy place--or, say, on an airplane--and miss those times of day that coincide with the athans. But it's one of my favorite parts of being in a Muslim region, so I was keeping an ear out... and nothing!
The sound prompted a conversation about consular work in Iraq. Some colleagues in other sections have complained that seeing, or actually meeting with, "a real Iraqi" is like finding a unicorn. There is so much hoopla between the embassy and the rest of the city. Consular officers, on the other hand, have the privilege of meeting and interviewing real Iraqis every day. For that I feel lucky and truly grateful. Yes, for the most part, I'll be on one side of the window, and they on the other. But we get to see each other's faces. Speak to each other (in a language hopefully more than one of us understands). And in that way we get to engage.
Makes me happy to think about going to work tomorrow.
3 comments:
Loving all your posts, once I remembered how to find your blog. I can only imagine the bizarre juxtaposition of so many cultures converging in a tiny green zone. It's got to be a fascinating place for sure. What does it smell like? What does the air feel like? What did you have for dinner (Atlas wanted to know that answer :)).
Wishing I could be there to experience it all, but content to be a birdy on the fence, watching you take each day in as a new breath.
P.s. The call to prayer is also my most favorite thing about being in the Middle East. I hardly ever hear it in Doha either, but I'm always listening for it. It's magical and predictable, and it's rare when those two things go together.
Hey girlfriend! It smells like dust and heat. And then once in a while you get the burning trash/developing world smell. Having said all that, it's a kind of nice smell altogether. The air today was heavy and round. It was 105, humid and sandstorm. Doesn't that sound nice?!?! And tonight for dinner I had a grilled shrimp salad. Can't complain!
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