The Girl with Scoliosis

One of the tough things about working the visa line is that I really can't talk in detail about my applicants - and they are fascinating people! It violates all kinds of spoken and unspoken rules. And since I work the vast majority of my waking hours here, I am left with less and less time to have experiences that I can (or even want to) talk or write about.

That said, I met a girl this week. Let's not talk about where, just that I met her and her mother. And she was traveling to the U.S.  She needed an operation. On her back.

Her scoliosis was higher up in her spine than mine, and it affected her neck and shoulders more dramatically. She was 19 years old, and had a sponsorship through a US organization to have a spinal fusion at a US hospital. Her mother would go with her and help her through the recovery process.

After taking care of necessary business, we talked and I told her I had had the same operation. That is was difficult; that the recovery is long. And she looked at me with fear in her eyes..... I told her that it was worth it. And that it was better afterwards. Her mother looked like she was receiving some kind of divine sign.

I have wondered over the years whether it was worth it, whether I am better afterwards. But in our short interaction, with this sister of my spine, I decided to offer hope. She was on her way with her network of support. All she needs now is to believe that it is the right thing. To trust in herself, trust in her caregivers, and be patient with the healing.

Finally, Those July 4th Photos!

So, it was a long time coming. But finally I have some photos of a few of our activities in Iraq that I can share. 

This July 4th I had the great privilege of attending a naturalization ceremony for folks who have served in the military in Iraq for their requisite time and as a result are eligible to become citizens of the U.S. I traveled with 2 colleagues from work, and we had to get there by helo - so that led to some pretty cool photos.

In this album you will see one of the aforementioned palaces of Saddam Hussein. This one is called "Al Faw" and in commemorates a victory at the town of Al Faw during the Iran-Iraq war. In fact many of the palaces around this country commemorate one battle or another. Al Faw is surrounded by water features on a massive scale, and I believe it is where Hussein kept his exotic water fowl and game. On the inside it was brash and gaudy. Like the massive chair, it was just all so over the top.

The ceremony itself was ... moving. Candidates from 23 countries who've been serving in Iraq were honored for their contributions, and the values of the U.S.: diversity, democracy, freedom, were all lifted up in a particularly concrete context. We all got a little teary. One 4th of July I will surely not forget!

Someday We Will Have the Same

We've been thinking about Sudan a lot recently. Today is the big day for the South! I still can't really believe the series of events there has led up to independence. The birth of a nation. We are grateful to have witnessed some of this transition, and to have work with/been close to those who were part of making it peaceful. Peaceful-ish. Hopeful.

The big screen tv in our office is on right now. BBC is showing continuous festivities: banners, flags, crowds. Goosebumps.

I was sitting at my desk when we turned on the tv. My Kurdish co-worker was standing near by. He looked up and said "someday we will have the same." We caught each other's eye and smiled. He's not kidding.

This is a day of expanding my understanding of what is possible politically and geographically in the world. I am in awe of the dreams of these people.

The Dust and the Glory

The glory was theirs. I sat down to write today about the amazing naturalization ceremony I attended earlier this week. I have photos and everything to share! But instead my mind has gone to the soccer game I witnessed this afternoon - starring you know who. What a show.

It was roughly 120 degrees at lunch today. The game started at 5pm - and I'm going to hazard that it was still nearly that hot at game time. The sun was fading into a haze of dust. That helped moderate the intensity of the bright heat, but the dust - ugh. In my eyes, my teeth, my hair. Between my toes inside my shoes.

The teams were made up of a mix of local staff, third country nationals on contracts in Baghdad, and a lonely blond American. He was playing for the mostly pan-Arab team. Trash talking abounded.

The field was one of those new rubber "grass" surfaces with the soft green blades and tiny black recycled "pebbles." It's good for grip and impact, but horrible for post game. Those little pebbles track their way back home into every nook, cranny, and corner. Grrrrrrrr. Settled in between the grass and pebbles on this particular field was a thick layer of ultra fine dust. Every time a player makes a run for it, a trail of dust is kicked up and floats behind him until it's caught by the scorching wind and blown onto the fans (me) on the bleachers. So pleasant.

This was no "pretty boys game." Seriously. The weather and playing conditions brought out the animals in these guys. When one of them mustered up a sprint, it would be followed by lots of groaning and lifting of shirts. Then even more trash talk.

And on this day, with aspirations of revenge, the glory was theirs. Not exactly a beauty to behold, but some animal, primordial, brute strength thing came out there on the field. And it was great! Guys coming out and not being held back by the horrid environment. Yeehaaaa! Now to go wash out that sand from my mouth and nose.

Talkin' 'bout Electricity

E got his hair cut today. Fresh! Looks niiiiice.

And we got to have a little adventure as well. One of the best Saturdays so far, to tell the truth. We went out with a driver to another of the military bases in the IZ to do some shopping, to see what there was to see, and perhaps to snag some authentic local food if we were lucky. Wonder of wonders, we did all that and more! It almost felt like a "normal" weekend day. (I won't go into all the asides that come to mind as soon as I typed that sentence.... all the reasons why it isn't in fact normal, only "normal," but I'll let the punctuation do its job.)

So after shopping in the palace that has been converted into a double-layered hexagonal mall of sorts, we stopped at the barber. To my relief, this barber's shipping container (since that what serves for buildings around here, almost as often as not) was air conditioned. Ahhhh. A nice break after the mall. Which was not.

And I picked up the Cosmopolitan sitting there on the coffee table, but after thumbing through a few pages I had to put it down. It's so much about sex, and here I am the one woman I've seen for the last hour in any direction....sitting in this air conditioned container with foreign men on my left and foreign men on my right..... I couldn't do it.

Instead I started talking again with our driver. Our driver (as you know from our previous adventures, drivers are often our best guides/interpreters of the local scene as well as Arabic conversationalists) had started chatting with the man on his right. He had come in from the shop next door. Perhaps for a haircut himself. Or perhaps just for a bit of cool. They were talking about the lack of electricity. (These containers on the military base can run off of generators the USG provides. Off our mini-grid though, power is unpredictable at best.)

I listened for a bit, and our driver brought me into the conversation, saying, you know, before the dictator's time, they had everything here. Now, after he is gone, they can't even run their lights or air conditioning. It's a very difficult life. The line of discussion ran through the current leaders of various parties. Who is making what separatist kinds of statements, who is allying with whom against whom. But it kept centering back to: who is going to get the power going again so we can get back to work?

It's basic stuff. That's what I read about in the papers too. Iraqis protesting the lack of services. Still I was surprised to find these concerns so real, and so close at hand. In a country with so many resources, happiness--and perhaps even some amount of peace--depends on when regular people can get the kind of electricity and basic services they had decades ago but haven't been able to re-establish.