Dear Anonymous,

I am nowhere near Tal Afar. That's over by Syria and I am closer to Iran. Closer to Kirkuk.

In fact, I'm probably closer to Baghdad than Tal Afar. I can actually hear bombs when they explode in Baghdad. And sometimes armed men patrol the streets and we all have to hide inside until they pass so they don't kidnap us or steal the children.

Plus, when we go the market we have to keep our eyes open for truck bombers, or car bombers, or suicide bombers or snipers and the like. It's pretty stressful. Especially since so many of our friends have died in the past few years. It's been pretty hard on all of us.

My neighbors have even started moving away. The ones that can afford it have left the country and many have gone north to the safer regions, but the ones that can't afford it have gone to the refugee camps up north or in Syria. I hear it's pretty rough there.

But even more than the ones who have left are the ones who stay behind. I don't know if they can't leave or they just have hope for the future, but they stay around like us; afraid everyday.

Of course, this isn't really true for me. I walk around the city without fear and I've never heard a bomb, but it is true for millions of people in Baghdad and other cities in Iraq (like Tal Afar). So, I thank God everyday that I don't live there and I pray every day that they would know peace like I know peace.

Terrorism Strikes Close to Home

Three nights ago my city was without power for an entire night. This means that across town fans and coolers were deadly silent and the citizens of our fair city sweltered in their brick*-oven homes

Two nights ago, we learned the truth**. Terrorists had cut the power line that runs from Baghdad to Kirkuk and our local dam couldn't produce enough electricity to give us our usual 6 to 8 hours of power.

We were also warned that the following night would be just as bad as crews frantically*** tried to repair the damage.

To my fellow foreigners I said: "Well, it was fine when the terrorists were just killing innocent civilians, but now that they've attacked my electricity, I am angry****."

Oh, and the picture has nothing to do with the post, but she does seem angry about the power situation.

*Of course, I mean cinder blocks
**Total unsubstantiated rumor
***No one here works frantically. I mean frantically in the slowest and most lackadaisical [btw, I totally had to run that word back through the spell checker. I am convinced that this spelling is incorrect, but dictionary.com agrees] manner possible.
**** Allegedly

Don't Take Sides

Ok, I read this article today which suggests that the US government is planning to assist the Turkish government to attack the PKK in Iraq.

As you may know, the PKK has bases in Northern Iraq (aka Southern Kurdistan) from which they attack the Turkish military across the border.

Allegedly.

You know how I hate to drag up politics on the old blog.....

But, give me a break GW! Your willing to risk the peace and stability of Kurdistan on Turkey's anti-Kurd campaign of oppression and would-be genocide? Really?

Seriously?

I am appalled at my government.

In other news, Turkeys recent elections saw the first openly Kurdish candidates elected to the Turkish parliament - twenty of them to be exact. This is a big step in a country where being Kurdish is in fact outlawed. How do you outlaw a race of people?

Of course, the Kurds have their own issues. As previously noted on this (high-quality) blog, Iraq won the Asia Cup final a few days ago. This led to much hoopla, flag waving and literal dancing in the streets. Unfortunately for about 50 people, they waved the wrong flag. The Iraqi flag is illegal up here in Kurdistan, so eager Iraq supporters hoisted the hated flag and landed themselves in jail.

I saw at least 200 individual Iraqi flags on the street that evening just between my house and the place we watched the game, so I know most people were not hassled by the fuzz, but it's ridiculous that even 50 were.

Speaking of the fuzz, Todd and I got stopped at a checkpoint yesterday and had to hand over the registration and his ID (he was driving). Our registration is expired (long story) so they told him they'd keep his ID until we could prove we had a new registration.

I wasn't having any of that, so I got out and argued with the officer. He ignored me, so we went to speak to the officer in charge of the checkpoint. I had spoken to the lesser officer in Kurdish, but I wanted to be as American as possible for the leader; i knew I'd get farther. I again explained that it wasn't Todd's car, so they shouldn't keep his license. He didn't care. He said that's just how it's done.

I used Todd to translate, by the way. I think he secretly loves to translate for me when I argue with Kurdish people.

The officer told me I could go ahead and pay 7000 Dinar and get the ID back right away. I told him it sounded like bribery, but I am pretty sure Todd did not translate that.

So, I asked him for a copy of the traffic laws. You know, something written down that I could study to be sure that I didn't break any more laws. He laughed and said that this wasn't America. I said "Well, YOU must have learned these laws somehow since YOU know when I have broken one. Can I get a copy of what you used to study?"

I am pretty sure that Todd translated all of that. The police officer just shook his head and laughed.

And totally caved. We left with Todd's license.

Oh, and we have a thermometer at the office now. It's currently only about 106 degrees. Feels great!

I am qualified for this job because I'm HOT

We did MadLibs in class today.

This is my favorite line.

Piroze, Iraq

I am sure you all already know the following information, what being such huge soccer fans and all, but Iraq beat Saudi Arabia this evening to win the Asia Cup.

That's right, the Iraqi soccer team is the best in all of Asia and everyone is pretty excited about it (except the Saudis and the other non-Iraqi Asians, I assume.)

There is much celebrating in the streets at the moment, even here in Kurdistan. So, I say "Good for Iraq. Way to go," or simply "piroze" in Kurdish.

My Fan

Yesterday, I bought a fan in the bazaar. My fan was made in Japan and came with a great set of instructions and warnings. Here a couple of my favorites.

1. Keep the fan in the dry place and far from sunlight.

I think Iraq qualifies as THE dry place.

2. Easy cleaning by using the damp cloth to wipe out the dirty.

3. Do not use the fan near a light object. It will cause a dangerous because fan will imbibe all that light object into the fan.

So, my fan is a tiny black hole sucking all light into itself? This one had me a little worried. I mean, I certainly don't want to be the cause of a dangerous. Especially one that involves imbibing the light object.

I used my fan last night and I slept very well, thank you, but I turned off all the light objects before I turned the fan on. Just in case.

Funny...

This link has famous poems rewritten as limericks.

Here's my personal favorite:

Footprints in the Sand

There was a man who, at low tide
Would walk with the Lord by his side
Jesus said "Now look back;
You'll see one set of tracks.
That's when you got a piggy-back ride."

My First Movie

For a couple of weeks I have seen posters around town for a movie. I was excited because I assumed that meant there must be some theater somewhere showing this movie.

It is called Jani Gal and is based on a novel by Ibrahim Ahmed about life in Kurdistan following the assassination of Sheikh Mahmoud. Well, at least that's what the movie's about. Turns out the book is about the Algerian war for independence.

I kept asking around about the movie and I was told that maybe it would be on TV or maybe I'd just have to buy a copy and watch it at home. Finally, the English-language newspaper published an article that said the movie would show at a theater in Sulemania... as soon as they could find one with quality equipment.

I thought that just meant never.

But, Friday, I saw an ad on PUK TV saying that the movie would play for three nights on that channel. I copied down the dates and the time and told everybody in the office (we were all excited to see it), but I found out later I was wrong.

The movie wasn't going to be on TV; it was going to show at a local theater (an actual theater, not a movie theater) and it would show for three days. We decided to try for the opening night, but we got a call just as we were headed to the theater telling us that it was VIP only and no one could get in. The best we could do would be to get tickets for the next night.

We were already almost in the car so we decided to head to the theater and try to get tickets as soon as we could.

Todd came with us managed to get himself inside the theater while we waited outside watching SUVs pull up and armed guards pop out to protect the Very Important Guests. Before long, Todd came outside and waved us in. He hadn't gotten us tickets for the next night, he had managed to get us admitted to the premiere. He told someone he had American guests and that it would be a shame if we couldn't get inside. The man inside agreed so we got in and got seats and saw our first movie premiere.

More importantly, though, Jalal Talabani's wife was there, Hero. She is Ibrahim Ahmed's daughter. After the movie we got our picture taken with her - again thanks to Todd who schmoozed one of the actors to get us in a picture with the First Lady.

So, I am now closer than ever to my dream of meeting the man himself, Mam Jalal!

Lighter Fare

Ok, so I decided to post a much less heavy post today.

To the left you see a bunch of junk for sale on a cart. You can't see the cart, but it looks like you'd expect. It's flat with three wheels underneath and two handles for pushing.

Men will push these all over town filled with goods for sale: candy, vegetables, shoes, dishes. It's called an arabanna.

Do you know the difference between an arabanna and an Arab?

An arabanna wears the tire underneath and an Arab wears it on his head...

Ah, Kurdish jokes...

Do you know the difference between a traffic cop and ice cream?

Ice cream runs when it's hot.

Racism

I know nothing about racism.

Today, I listened to D-Dog, our cook, relate the story of her recent trip to Baghdad to Janie. I heard her say that all of the Arabs are dirty and that she feared for her life the whole time she was there. Janie tried to assure her that, in fact, all the Arabs are not dirty.

But what does Janie know? Like me, Janie grew up learning about pluralism and stereotyping, so we know that there's no possible way that ever member of any group can possibly fit all the stereotypes associated with the group; all Arabs can't possibly be terrorist. The facts back us up on this point.

But how much do the facts matter if you are targeted for murder or worse just because you're Kurdish? How would I feel if I went to Baghdad? And I were Kurdish? And old? And had no choice but to go to the center of Hell just to take my mother to the hospital?

Northern Iraq is being flooded with Arab refugees. The Kurds are very hospitable, but behind closed doors they whisper about the Arabs. They distrust them and warn us to avoid them lest we be kidnapped by one of them. Kurdish television runs heart-wrenching PSAs reminding us all of the situation of the Arabs in the south and compelling us to be accepting of them as they flee the violence.

But these are the people that have been murdering the Kurds for hundreds of years. These are the people who burned down Kurdish villages and forced the Kurds into the mountains. These are the people that murdered 5000 people in a single day in Halabja. These are the people that have always treated the Kurds like second-class citizens belittling them and strangling their economy. These are the people that have laid waste to Baghdad and Mosul and Kirkuk. These are the people that packed a truck bomb under blocks of ice to ensure that their bomb infused with nails didn't explode into the sky, but rather killed as many Kurds as possible last month. These are the people that killed almost 100 people in Kirkuk just a few days ago.

And now, here they are. Living among the Kurds, looking for jobs, relying on the Kurds for their future.

No, it's not the same people. Of course, I know that. I know the difference between Arabs and insurgents. But I also know that if a bomb ever explodes in my city, if hundreds of Kurds die, it won't be from a Kurdish bomber. It'll be an Arab.

But, even knowing that, I am uncomfortable when the Kurds point to an Arab and whisper “Pise.” I shake my head and say, no, they're not dirty. When a certain friend rails against the Arabs and the Muslims, I remind him that Jesus tells us to love our enemies.

Today, I heard that tattoos are all the rage in Baghdad and Kirkuk. It seemed like a very un-Muslim thing to do, so I was surprised and I started to make a joke about it, but then Cory told the rest of the story. It's so families can identify bodies.

People are getting tattoos so their mothers can find their bodies after a suicide bomb attack.

And still they must forgive.

I know nothing about forgiveness, either.