Election Day in Iraq

Earning my keep

The news was full of reports of violence to the north, what little we saw of the news today. The weather was beautiful and the computers were down, so we trenched in our fiber optic line to the empty trailers we're moving our offices to. We are happy to be in the sunny south and hoping for the best after the elections. Aljazeera http://english.aljazeera.net/HomePage had a strikingly different slant on today's elections compared to CNN. Our contractors haven't worked for a few days, Friday being a holy day (like our Sunday), and their traditional day off. Then there were the travel restrictions and curfews prior to today's elections that shut everything down.

The Iraqi voters literally risked life and limb to go out to the polls today. Iraqi Interim Prime Minister Allawi predicted that voter turnout would be better than in the United States and he was right. CNN reported an impressive 75% nationwide turnout. That might be just a little optimistic, but it looks like they pulled it off, with a little help from their friends.

School days, School days...

A pretty typical urban classroom

I received a note from my son's Scoutmaster this morning that their troop is gathering school supplies and soccer balls for us to distribute to the schools we are working on. Way to go Scouts!

The kids are the bright spot of any field trip. They are excited to see us, and always hopeful one of us has a soccer ball or candy for them. The classrooms are crowded, understaffed and poorly supplied. We are rebuilding hundreds of schools in southern Iraq, but we can do very little about the furnishings or the school supplies. Several people in the office are soliciting corporations and co-workers back home for assistance. It is difficult to get things to the folks that really need it here, which is a common theme for relief work everywhere. Politics, corruption, greed, and protection rackets are a bigger problem than shipping, but shipping is no easy deal here either. These are classrooms where the better urban schools have desks and chairs, and some of the rural thatched roof schools still have dirt (mud) floors with a chalkboard leaning against the wall in front. The kids are eager to learn and happy to be in school. There are many kids out here that go to work on construction sites or herding sheep instead of going to school, they have no other option. I've seen twelve year olds on construction jobs chipping concrete floors with a chisel to smooth out the rough spots.

Mud schools 

Sunrise

Creamsicle sunrise over Tallil

Most days here start like this, a gift of the dry, dusty air. I'm not used to seeing the sun come up like a big ball right on the horizon except over the ocean. Here there are no hills and no trees, except for a few Tamarisk trees, to block the view. It was 38 degrees F here this morning, but the sun soon warmed things up to a high of about 60. Everyone in frigid New England asks how the weather is here. It's winter, the weather is great, though I do miss the snow. Our walls are plastered with pictures on snowy backyards, dogs in the snow, kids in the snow. Familiar things in a foreign place are a comfort, though this place is beginning to feel more familiar each day. I understand completely now why "Rick's" nightclub in the movie Casa Blanca was so popular with the expatriates. It was familiar. The full moon tonight marks our team's first month away from home, but with the long days seven days a week, it seems much longer.

Our generator quit yesterday afternoon, taking the lights, phones and computers with it. The accompanying power surge shorted out some of the electric lines that had to be sorted out this morning. Fortunately, most of our housing units still had power from another generator. Most of the country is not on an electrical system grid and generator power is the norm. Power plants in the cities have had trouble keeping up with demand and power outages occur frequently. Saddam routed all the country's power production to Baghdad. Iraqis have to deal with power shortages, gasoline shortages, and water supply shortages, and telephone interruptions daily. What was a minor inconvenience for us yesterday, is a daily ordeal for the ordinary citizens here. We are working hard to get the infrastructure back up and running, but it can't happen soon enough for the Iraqis. Most of us deployed here will be home and taking lights, heat, water, and telephones for granted long before the job is done. There is still so much to do.

Just like Moab, only different.

Cycling again

I'd put a lot of mental energy into how to get my bicycle over here before I left. It was too big for the US Postal Service, and too expensive for FedEx. So I was surprised to find bikes all over the base when I arrived. After two weeks of chasing used bikes for sale from GIs going home, I gave up and bought a new German bike at the Px. Of course they are out of bicycle helmets, and the base commander says everyone has to have a helmet. (I find this pretty ironic considering where we are.) So I wear my five pound kevlar helmet until I can get mine mailed from home. It's not Moab, but there is plenty of room to ride here on base, and I've been doing a few laps on a three-mile loop whenever I can break for physical training, "PT." We are allowed an hour for PT everyday, which really helps to make the 12-hour days more tolerable. Usually I work an extra half hour so I can sleep in once a week with the extra hours. There is a nice gym here, but I haven't used it yet. There are even dance classes, spinning, yoga and kick-boxing classes scheduled. There is a pretty level gravel running track, a baseball field and a soccer field too. I use my doorway chin-up bar and do situps in the morning to work off some of the damage the mess hall is doing to my diet. There is no shortage of candy here, everyone back home sends candy and it's piled high on every desk. It is very hard to eat healthy here. It can be done, but it is not encouraged. We had lettuce again in the mess hall this week, yipee! They were getting really creative with cabbage, but it wasn't the same.

Rain Again

New Submarine Launched

Every 10 days or so it has rained. Yesterday, some poor GI made a turn onto what looked like a puddled-up access road. It was the drainage ditch behind my trailer. The rain quit after 24 hours and left us to dry out. That process will last about a week, mud is everywhere again. They issued me two sets of boots, I figure there is one for the muddy days and one for the dry days. We have puddles covering all our parking lots big enough to be stopover points for migratory waterfowl. The clouds do have a silver lining, the rain keeps the dust down. Without it, the fine silty soil blows everywhere. The weather has been very pleasant, winters here are not bad. I've adjusted pretty well to the dry air and actually breathing better here than home (probably because there are no cats here). Found an interesting web site that is written by someone living in Baghdad and it gives an interesting Iraqi perspective on this war that won't be on the news back home anytime soon. http://riverbendblog.blogspot.com/

Eid Al-ada

Out at the job site

The amount of work to be done out here is staggering. Our construction site is not at the ends of the earth, but you can see it from there. Today, our site was visited by a dozen camels, about 50 sheep and their shepherds. This is the end of the Hajj, or the time of pilgrimage to Mecca, and the Iraqis are celebrating Eid Al-ada, Sacrifice of the Lamb. Abraham had to sacrifice his son, who was given a last minute reprieve by the Angel Gabriel who told Abraham that a sacrifice of a lamb would be sufficient to satisfy God. This holiday is like our Thanksgiving, everyone gets a long weekend, gives to the poor, and exchange gifts.

Here's an interesting blog about the natural world in Iraq from one of the soldiers stationed north of here http://birdingbabylon.blogspot.com/. I haven't seen much wildlife down here in the desert.

Mom dresses us funny

Bob in Kuwait

We wear these desert camouflage uniforms pretty much everyday, with a few casual days for civilian clothes. There is a Beetle Bailey cap too. Many of us, me included, have our names in Arabic sewn onto the back of our hats along with our names in English. Strickly speaking, that's against the rules, but the uniform police look the other way. There are a bunch of pockets, but rules about keeping them buttoned and not letting them bulge. The laundry service takes our washables twice a week and there is a dry cleaner that picks up our stuff that we'd rather not treat to a commercial washing machine. With all the money I'm saving on my commute to work, I can afford to dry clean my uniforms. I was pretty sure the raincoat they issued us was going to be sitting in the closet, but it occasionally pours here and the raincoat is welcome.

There are a few subtle differences between our outfits and the enlisted folks, but mostly it's the facial hair that distinguishes the civilians, and the absence of a gun. Occasionally we'll get a "better safe than sorry" salute anyway.

Iraqis almost all have at least a mustache. When emphasizing the seriousness of a point they are making, they are likely to tug at the corner of their mustache. One Iraqi asked me upon meeting me for the first time if I was British. When I asked why he thought that, he pointed to my mustache, not knowing the English word for it.

Here is a link to a blog by my friend Ken's who shares my office trailer http://kens1728iraqphotos.blogspot.com

Rain

It rained on Sunday, the first time in ten days. Not a hard rain, less than an inch, but it turned everything to mud. Really sticky, ball up under your boots hard to walk on mud. Everything not covered in gravel turns to mud. Little paths start to develop where four-wheel-drives vehicles can make it through. Some 4X4s are still externally engaged at the hub, that cannot be fun. We powerslide over unfinished roads like we were on New England ice. Local cars and trucks are abandoned on access ways that were passable yesterday. Footpathes through the shallow sections of mud become well traveled, marked on either side by the deep impressions of mis-steps. We do the "mud dance" to get the mud off our boots to navigate stairs or enter relatively clean buildings. The sides of vehicles are slimed and eventually cover your pants leg with streaks of mud as you climb in and out. We are issued two sets of boots, and one sits to dry out the caked mud while the other stays in play. When dry, the mud cakes then turns to dust and is easy to brush off.

I'm told that in this portion of southern Iraq, Saddam drained the marshes and channelized all the water, driving the indigenous people who lived here out. The soil here looks as though it was a lakebottom. Flat and silty. I anticipated sandy, but this soil is flood plain silt, possibly from flooding of the nearby Euphrates River. I'm told the area does flood, but not with the predictability of the Nile River. Working with flood control dams is what I do back home, and I was reminded by an email from a co-worker back home that this is where Noah built his ark. There are certainly not enough trees left here to build another.

The groundwater here is only six feet down and our elevation rarely exceeds ten feet above sea level for hundreds of square miles. The Euphrates River is hard and salty, the Tigris River to the north is sweet. Drinking water is channeled from the Tigris and there are many channels. Clean water is a valuable commodity here, like everywhere else. Bottled water is everywhere. Some Iraqis will beg for dollars or water on job sites. We respond, "Have dinars? You give me dinars, I give you dollars." which seems to stun them into laughter and defuses otherwise tense encounters. Most workers will just look at you with curiosity, and courtesy. They are gracious in their greetings, holding their right hand to their hearts, bowing their heads slightly. Not many Iraqis show up for work in the rain. The one's who do show up are huddled under something with a fire going and drying out their coats on improvised clothes lines. It's like a snow day back home.

First Impressions

As far as I can tell, aesthetics don't count for much in Iraq. I've been looking hard to find beauty in what little I've seen of the country and come up short. The sunrises and sunsets have been by far the most beautiful thing I've found so far, caused by constant dust. The tile work is beautiful. The Ziggarat is beautiful. The scarves worn by the workers are beautiful. Granted my world has been restricted to construction sites, but even then, the trash is hauled out to just outside the facility entrances and dumped like an open landfill. That's your first impression.

An Iraqi laying tile wanted to practice his English today when I stopped to look at his work.
"My daughters study English, I also know English," he said. "Do you know Iraq 'istory?"
"Iraq's story?" I asked, "No, tell me."
"I know England 'istory; Columbus 'istory; America 'istory. I know. You like peace? You know Iraq 'istory?" he asked.
"I know Iraq history. You do good job here. I want peace too."
"Yes, peace we want," he said and shook my hand vigorously as though we'd just concluded talks on the SALT II treaty. The tile work was beautiful, all done with very few tools, the mortar mixed on the floor with a dam or dry mortar around it, the mud smoothed by hand, the tiles cut by hand. Working around and impossibly uneven wall he smoothed the surface by hand and set each piece by eye just so. His scarf looked silk, robin's egg blue and white. His blue coveralls were surprisingly clean of mortar. He is working in materials that are abundant here, sand, mortar, brick, tile. Forests that might long ago have covered this area are long since cut down. I make more in an hour here than my mason acquaintance will make all week.

It's dry, very dry. And that makes the nights colder than I expected for southern Iraq in winter. Still nothing compared to a New England winter night, but still chilly enough for a hat and gloves if you are outside for more than 20 minutes. The weather when the sun is up is very pleasant, like a warm autumn day. There is evidence everywhere of what the rain does to the silty soil, dried mud. It hasn't rained in the week I've been here, but they tell me when it does it is impressive and turns everything to mud.

Plastic scrap is the national bird of Iraq. Litter is everywhere and construction debris is just thrown to the wind. The nomadic people pick up the bigger pieces of plastic and carry off big balls of it on their heads, ten feet in diameter, four feet high. I don't know what they do with it. The trash blows like tumbleweed until it hits the inevitable concertina wire fencing and tangles up there until the sun breaks it down. Woodsy Owl would have a nervous breakdown here.

There are daily booms in the distance and towering plumes of black smoke follow. We take them to be car bombs. Tracers in the night sky mark fighting in the town nearby. The elections are coming later this month. Most Iraqis expected more from us than we can deliver. The nationals I talk to are anxious for peace. We are doing good things here, but it's not happening quick enough. I'll be happy to have the elections behind us.

Rebuilding Iraq

After spending my first week in southern Iraq, I was sent to some new construction sitees for a little on-the-job training with Dave, my basin manager counterpart from New Hampshire. Yesterday's sand storm across the gulf region has us all coughing and red-eyed. The weather has turned cold again and the fine sand hangs in the air like smog. There was little to tell the sand storm wasn't ground fog, no ripping wind accompanied it, just dirty air.

There is an incredible amount of construction going on in southern Iraq. Over 150 school buildings are being built. Clinics, hospitals, mosques, rail stations, roads, bridges, prisons, water treatment plants, power stations... Everything needed for a modern country that was either destroyed in the war, not maintained by the Saddam regime, or looted, is being rebuilt. There are some desperately poor people trying to scratch out a living here.

The buildings going up are a cross between western and eastern mindsets. Metal prefab buildings with mud brick and tile restrooms instead of sheetrock. There are literally thousands of Iraqis working on some of the larger projects with expectations that more manpower will speed the finished product. Large U.S. contractors are overseeing Iraqi subcontractors, most of whom have no experience with western building techniques. Little things are striking on the constructions sites, like debris. There is absolutely no concept here of cleanup. When a broken glass pane is removed, I hear the foreman barking to throw it in the dumpster and not on the ground when it's removed. The construction sites look like landfills. At inspections, an Iraqi hands out cold soda cans to all attendees as they arrive, part of their culture to serve tea is being adjusted to western supplies.

Many of the ex-patriates I've met here have been here for over 6 months. Some are on a one year contract, some are assigned with their units for a year. This is tough duty for that amount of time and nothing here is remotely like anything back home.

At lunch time, Dave plays basketball with the Fijians. That is funny in itself because the Fijians (Fiji islanders) are built like physically fit Samoans and Dave is a little guy and he is kicking their butts. He says he doesn't dare play their game, rugby.