Parkhov

22 February 2011

Have you ever had a project you thought was so overwhelming you were just frozen and couldn’t even begin? That is how I feel. Our tempo has picked up a little the last week and it has been a great excuse to not write. I’ve also been busy pursuing “professional” growth. I mentioned previously I was attending Top 3 meetings which are held every other week. This past meeting I ran for Secretary and was elected.   I’m sure my EM friends are giggling as once again I’m taking meeting minutes.  I'm also completing Course 14 which is as fun as walking over hot coals. Course 14 is required for promotion and is a web based course that will take my entire time here to finish. I have scheduled a test every two weeks and when I have down time at work, I try and force myself to click through the presentation.  It takes about a week to complete each block and I use the second week to click back through it and take notes. Gone are the days of the instructor stamping his foot on the ground to indicate “you might want to remember this point.”  Kudos for making us actually think as the questions are not simple either. It requires you to know the material and not answer memorized facts.  And lastly, I volunteered to teach a block of instruction for the upcoming Combat Professional Development Course, my block is Enlisted Heritage and is taught twice.  I have been reviewing the previous material and making it my own and doing research on the history of Sather. That’s me in a nutshell for the past few weeks and all of that has given me a great excuse to not tackle writing about my palace tour.

I have struggled with how to describe the tour and how it affected me and yet remain unbiased. My blog is not to share my political beliefs or to go on long rants about political parties, but rather my experiences being in a deployed location. It is not always easy to separate the two as my beliefs/values color my experiences. After much ado, here it is…

Once again my day off was cold and wet. I was hoping for cold and dry and I would wear my PT shorts and jacket combo.  It was cold, misty, muddy and required pants. Given I only have two choices, cammie bottoms or PT pants, you think it would be an easy decision.  Since it was my day off and I hadn’t solved my foot pain yet, I really wanted/needed a break from my boots. That left me PT gear. I have worn my PT pants 4 times my entire time in the Air Force and all of those times have been while I was here. I HATE these pants. They are known worldwide throughout the Air Force as MC Hammer Pants. I kid you not. The person(s) who created these pants and those who sat on the uniform board and approved them will have their own circle in hell dedicated solely to them.

Their punishment will be to wear them for all eternity and to hear the swish swish non-stop.  The jacket is doable and does it job. The shorts are bad and bunch up in the crotch for both men and women. You get used to seeing grown adults pulling their shorts down or sticking out a leg and giving a wiggle to get them back in place. But those pants…  All three pieces are made out of a hard nylon material that swishes when your legs rub. It doesn’t matter how skinny the person is, everyone’s legs rub and swish. You can hear people walking outside from the swish. Its been said you should be careful if running in them, because you could start a fire with the friction of the swish.  I broke down and wore them and regretted it the whole time. I should have just worn my uniform. Our Commander happened to be on the tour also and he looked at me and made the comment “I see your wearing the MC Hammer pants. I never wear mine.”  The shame of it all.

Edwards, Keoni, Young and I met at the Chapel for the group tour and discovered Chief Wood and our current Commander Lt Col Gonzales were also going. Keoni and I rode the bus with the other random folks while Young and Edwards rode with Chief and Commander.

Our first stop was Camp Slayer. Camp Slayer was originally apart of the Abu Ghurayb Presidential Palace and where we stopped was some sort of military compound area.  We all emptied out of the bus and started snapping pictures.

This mural of Saddam is the last known mural to have survived. We walked around and took random pictures of the buildings. When we first invaded this area these buildings were used to house our soldiers. You can still see remnants of our stay and see the primitive conditions they lived under before our camps were built. We were a mob of sorts and went wherever we wanted. I felt sorry for the girl leading the tour as we were her first group and didn’t listen very well.

We entered one building which used to be an Iraqi chow hall and started walking around the bombed out building. I started to walk into one area and the smell of urine was so strong I started to gag and heave. It once had been a bathroom and I don’t know if the lingering smell was from us or them, but it was powerful.

On the perimeter wall you can see target outlines used for practice shooting. The only problem was the wall faced Flintstone Village and live ammo was not authorized for fear of hitting the kids.  I haven’t been told otherwise, but I suspect that is not the true reason. I could be off base and giving to much credit to their military, but why would you shoot up your own perimeter wall? You can see from the pictures there is no berm, and the silhouettes are rather amateur.  Maybe it really was just for “dry” fire. 

We loaded up and headed to Victory Over America.  After the Iran/Iraq War, Saddam felt it was a victory as he was still in power and built the palace, Victory Over Iran. After Desert Storm/Shield, he used the same logic and declared victory over the United States and to celebrate his fine achievement, he then built Victory Over America over the previous palace.  The guide used this as an example:  close your hand into a fist, now cover your hand with your other hand, like rock, paper, scissors. This is how the two palaces are connected.

The second palace phase was never completed and two cranes are still positioned outside. It seems we asked the French if they wanted them back as they were the ones doing the construction and they said yes if we shipped them at our cost. As you can see, we didn’t take them up on the offer. It's also rumored we bombed the palace not because it was a target, but the name pissed us off.

Our group was led inside and we walked throughout the palace. The size is indescribable. The ballroom is the size of a football field and that is only one of the many rooms. To think this was built on the backs of his people is truly disturbing.

 During the onset of the tour I happened to be eavesdropping on a conversation next to me. There was an older man giving local history of the palace and about Saddam that was not included by our guide. I started chatting with him and was fascinated. He gave accounts on how the Iraqi people lived under the dictatorship and the fear they were ruled with. As we walked from floor to floor and room to room, he would give such insight. I was captivated.

Outside of the palace there were smaller out buildings off of the man made lakes and you could see Flintstone Village. He had his mother-in-law quarters built next to the residence of his main mistress. What a keeper that Saddam. In the distance you can see the “Perfume Factory.” This was the designated brothel for the Baath Party members.

Saddam wanted to be a permanent part of history and every building has his name or initials built into the structure. The balcony rail of his mistress’ residence is made of hearts with his initials linking the hearts together. In different rooms though out the palace are his initials in the crown moldings.

We loaded back up and headed to the Baath Party House. Walking through there was touching history. Dan Rather had his interview with Saddam right before the war in that building, it was the first building to be hit at the beginning of the war, it was used for torture and contained a movie house.  I talked earlier about the pool room and I was able to observe it for myself. It was very sobering. Rumor is when we arrived on scene after the bombing the last victim was still handcuffed to the pool stairs. Fact is what you see next to the stairs is human DNA and was lab tested. The stain has been preserved through the dust sticking to the matter. See the picture tab for pictures, could be graphic for some.

Reports state when we hit the Baath House, we missed Saddam by 20 min. The remaining members were watching Pretty Woman and the film was still on the reel rolling. 

My private tour guide made the trip. The canned script is very informative, but to hear actual accounts is so more real. After this post I will include the script as it has items I didn’t cover and is interesting as well. Do you think I can remember my guide’s name? I repeated it several times with care so I would not lose it, but its gone. I know he is Armenian/Greek, is an interpreter for us, previously was an accountant and lives in Pasadena Ca, has been working for us for 7 years and on his last trip home went to Napa with his son, but his name escapes me. He left one clue for me to follow, he hosts combat fishing trips on Sunday.

Yep, two weeks later I went combat fishing for two reasons; something to do and to get his name. And his name is Parkhov. Now what the heck is combat fishing?

Edwards and I headed to the chapel to meet the fishing group and we learned we were an hour early. With my ID in hand (this will become important) we headed back to our CHUs to wait. Our LSA area requires a special Sather Badge to enter. I like to think I live in a gated community. We have our own fire station and the guards are private security contracted from Uganda and wear their own uniform.  

Edwards and I go back to the chapel and learn the group includes us and two other girls; an all girls fishing trip with Parkhov as the leader. We jump in the van and off we go. It turns out the two girls are from Command Post which makes for an interesting dynamic. We work with them extensively as they call us on every plane with a 20 min out call and then a follow up call when it has landed. CP has direct radio contact with the pilot and will give us our download and we in turn will advise of what we are uploading. We have been having some communication problems lately as they have just gone through a turnover. It was good to find this out at the beginning of the trip and not the end. It was also helpful to put a face to the voice. Young and I had been talking about going over and introducing ourselves to get that personal touch going. We normally are collocated with them and not separate as we are here.

Parkhov took us over by the al Faw Palace which is another Presidential Palace surround by man made lakes. Al Faw is just around the corner from VOA Palace and not very far. How many palaces did this guy need? We park across the street from a hotel that is currently being used for visiting dignitaries. All of us girls grab some gear and head out to one of the buildings surrounding the lake. Parkhov points out varies buildings and what they are currently used for as he sets up our poles. It seems Iraqi fish like Cliff Bars, bread with cream cheese and coco puffs.

Parkhov assembled my pole and set me up with two fine blobs of peanut butter Cliff Bar and sent me on my way.  I looked at him and the reel and he realized I was not in my element. He walked with me to the water and showed me how to flip the little bar hinge thing and hold the line with my fingers, give it a quick snap of the wrist and let go.  Simple right? He cast off for me and walked away leaving me holding the fishing pole. I felt a little tug and thought I had something. I quickly reeled in the line and found I had whatever is green and grows in lakes.  Time to cast off for myself; I go throw the steps, hold my breath and snap my wrist. My line went high and to the right, right into a tree. Parkhov came over, cut the line and I followed him back to the table where he handed me another pole. He was very gracious and said I didn’t walk on my first attempt and it takes practice. I walked away determined to practice. I cast a few times trying to get the hang of it and my line tangled. I untangled it and tried a few more times. I tangled again and at this point I'm enjoying being out and near the water more than the fishing itself. I turn my pole in and decide to take a look at the hotel.

I open the front door and enter the lobby. It still has its original furnishings and is a bit worn, but even if it were new, the style is rather hideous.  I would describe it as the Easter Bunny meets French Baroque.   I headed back to the group.

By this time the sun was setting and getting dark. It had been a chilly day, but now was getting cold. I had worn a long sleeved t-shirt, sweatshirt, PT jacket and of course shorts.  I was freezing. We hauled the gear back to the van and discussed dinner plans. We collectively had wanted to go to the Mediterranean Café, but Parkhov was fundamentally opposed to the idea because it was ran by Turks. He was willing to take us though, but out of courtesy we decided to go to the chow hall. To me all chow halls are the same, but this one since it was on Liberty was claimed to be better.  We all pile out with Edwards and myself at the rear. I reach in my pocket for my ID holder and I cant find it. I check both pockets and nothing. Edwards goes inside to find Parkhov and get the van keys. I'm hoping as I reached for my reflective belt in my pocket, my holder fell out. At this point, I'm a human popsicle and I'm sure it was minutes, but it seemed forever as I slowly froze to death. Edwards makes it back and we look through the van, nothing.  I tell her she should eat and Ill wait in the van, but she sits with me as we wait for the two girls and our fearless leader.

Forty five minutes later, they came back. Miss Bubbly did bring me a to-go container which I said thank you for, but did not want to eat. The only thing on my mind was finding my ID holder. My military holder had my ID, Sather Badge, Eagle Card, random pieces of paper allowing me to drive, take pictures on the flight line, etc.  From my perspective it was either gone forever or in my CHU.  If it was gone, there was nothing I could do other than pay the piper (aka get my ass chewed) and replace everything. All I wanted to do was go home and check. Parkhov wouldn’t listen to me and Miss Bubbly in the backseat wouldn’t stop with the questions. Where did you last have it? Did you have it here? Did you have it there? How about…?? How about you shut your face, if I knew the answers to any of those questions, I would know where it was.  I didn’t say that, but really really wanted to. Parkhov insisted we go back and retrace every step in the freezing cold with a flashlight.  It was my problem and I was getting upset about not being listened to and rather than be bitchy, I shut down and stopped talking. I went along for the ride and tried to keep quiet.

We back traced every step I took and no ID. We finally headed back to Sather and I was wondering the whole time how that was going to work. You have to show your ID to enter Sather since it has it's own perimeter and main gate. Parkhov had the same question, but he said he knew how we could get around it. Parkhov was very creative and snuck me and the rest of the girls on without showing ID. All I'm going to say is he held the wire as we crawled under.

Once on Sather, he sweet talked his way on to the LSA and I checked my room. There it was sitting on my nightstand. I went back to the others to let them know and we all were relieved. The other girls actually said I had kept calmer than they would have, if the situation were reversed.

By this time I was starving and the chow hall was closed. The to-go container was looking pretty good at this point and I ate cold corned beef and cabbage in my room and was happy about it. The next day as luck would have it, I called Command Post for something and Miss Bubbly answered the phone. I thanked her again for the to-go as it had saved me.

I walk away with three lessons learned:

#1 Don’t talk when you are angry

#2 If you ask someone if they need help with a lost item and they say no, listen and don’t ask a bunch of questions

#3 Be nice to people as you never know when you will see them again.

When it gets warmer I might go combat fishing again, but I think I will bring a book and just sit at the lake and read or keep Parkhov company. I don’t think I'm cut out for fishing.

08-10 February 2011

08-10 February 2011

Before snuggling in last night and taking my Tylenol PM’s, I checked weather.com and was excited to see clear skies all week with no rain. We had rain 4-5 days ago and we still have rain puddles and mud pits to navigate.  I opened my door this morning and was met with a sheet of water falling from my door ledge. I won’t repeat what expletive came from this virtuous mouth. Running late, I grabbed my gortex jacket, left my flip flops on and headed to the restroom.  Big mistake, I should have taken the time for my running shoes. As I head towards the Cadillac, I slosh through the multiple lakes and my feet are now freezing and very wet.  After brushing my fangs and face I head home. More lakes and more frozen toes.  

I came with two pairs of running shoes; one pair I wear around base and the other, I hand carry to the gym and do a change over once inside.  My first week I made the mistake of wearing my good shoes to the gym and was embarrassed after my run to find a pile of dirt at the end of the treadmill. As the belt went around, dried mud from my shoes would fly backwards into a neat pile. That would also explain the posted signs of no muddy shoes in the gym. 

The rainy season has definitely hit Baghdad. On sunny days like today, I truly appreciate Operation Pimp My CHU. I leave my door open as much as possible when I'm getting ready in the morning for fresh air and it also gives me a chance to view my “garden.”

The gal before me had left a planter with faded flowers in it and I have augmented it with flowers sent from my Mom. I took empty water bottles and filled them with rocks and used these as vases. The vases I then crammed in the rebar loops in the mini T walls lining my door entrance.  With the addition of a bright green chair cover, I have my own oasis. I planted a Garfield Chia Head, but I have yet to see any sprouts. I'm wondering if the rain is keeping it from growing. I'm also told pink flamingos and a gnome are on the way. I'm very excited to see how my veranda will changes over time. One of the other CHU’s is now sporting a lawn flag and Julie has put out a wicker vase with silk flowers. It is on the silly side, but I do enjoy walking around my T wall and seeing this splash of color greeting me. We had mail call today and I was told I have started something. Edwards received skeleton flamingos and Austin now has a lawn flag as well. If you know Austin and Edwards, you know this fits them both perfectly. The other day, I had a late start which was lovely. I took advantage of the extras hours by enjoying the rare nice weather with a cup of instant Starbucks coffee on my veranda. It truly is the small things in life.              

I came home a few days ago to find a love note on my bed. KBR, the local contracting company, left a note stating they installed a fire extinguisher inside my CHU while I was out. I turned around and there it was, attached to the wall next to my door. It is the biggest individual  fire extinguisher I have ever seen. In the event I didn’t notice or maybe got lost in my CHU, they also installed a large reflective arrow sticker pointing to the extinguisher. Here is the best part, when I walked outside, I noticed all they had done was take the fire extinguisher from the outside and mounted it on the inside. Now there is a giant arrow pointing to a nonexistent extinguisher. I'm not following the logic on this.

We had our first unit BBQ and broke in the back patio area. We grilled hamburgers and hotdogs during shift change and we hoarded lettuce, tomatoes, pickles and sodas from the chow hall. The day before, me, Julie and Walker hit up the PX and the two grocery stores for last minute items. The PX carries a few items, The Palms has a small grocery and the Taha Mall grocery carries the most.

Walker had purchased what she thought was an apricot fruit roll up and I bought two bags of dried apricots from the mini grocery store at The Palms. On the way back to Sather, Walker unrolled her dried fruit and gave it the sniff test. She said it smelled funny and wasn’t sure about it. She tore a piece off and passed it up to Julie to try. I then gave it the sniff test and thought it smelled like rancid oil, much like when Crisco goes bad in my cast iron pots. I wasn’t about to try it and by this point, you know Ill try just about anything. Julie took a small bite and instantly stuck her tongue out and couldn’t get the taste of her tongue. Walker and I are in hysterics at this point. From the look on her face, it had to be pretty bad.

Later that night I was watching a movie on my laptop in my CHU and broke out the baggie of dried apricots. In the store I was fascinated the apricots were not Dole perfect and they looked very natural and something you would see from your own food dehydrator. If you grew up in the ‘70’s you know what I'm talking about as your mother probably dried every fruit known to man. In the dark I munched away and left just a few in the bag. The next morning when I reached for the bag I noticed bits of leaves and what looked like a bug stuck in one of the folds of the fruit. I still have one bag left I haven’t touched.

I'm always fascinated with the Taha grocery store and always seem to pick something up to try. On a previous trip I bought a box of sweets labeled Turkish Delight. At first this gave me flashbacks to Bagram where Ed Bobbet had Turkish Delight sent to him. I have to say, it is the most heinous thing I have ever eaten. It is some Irish treat Ed goes crazy for and has his family from Ireland send it to him. He didn’t have to worry about the shift eating it, as we all thought it was disgusting.  This Turkish Delight however reminded me of the jelly squares I used to eat from Sunkist and was eager to try. The only resemblance to Sunkist was that it was a jelly candy. The flavors were green, yellow, orange and pink. The only flavor I recognized was pink, which was rose water. I don’t like rose water. The squares were also covered in what I thought was powdered sugar, but it wasn’t sweet like sugar and was more like talc powder. Overall I can say I tried it, but the box went into to the trash.

I am very happy with the Turkish Restaurant and the brick pizza place. I wrote about the shared pizza earlier I ate with Julie. I would order it again, but I can’t seem to walk past the Turkish place without ordering, it is phenomenal. I have ordered the same chicken dish twice now which comes with yummy rice, tomatoes, and this lovely bread. I now order extra bread and a container of hummus on the side. This hummus is like no other and I could eat it plain with a spoon. I'm sure it is in its raw state and does not contain preservatives, chemicals, natural added flavorings and who knows what else we normally eat. This last time I ordered the chicken dish resembling a burrito with a side of hummus and bread. I was not disappointed. They have a lamb dish I ask for every time, but they never seem to have it available. At some point I hope to change it up a bit and get off the chicken kick, but it is a proven winner.

In the same area is a bakery I normally walk right past. This time I stopped in and discovered the equivalent of a macaroon. The day before I rotate home, I will have to buy the whole lot and bring them home in a zip lock bag. These cookies are rich, dense and with the perfect coconut flavor without being too sweet. I think it’s a good thing the bakery is far and out of the way, otherwise I would eat these everyday and come home looking like a macaroon.

The theme here seems to be food so I’ll go with it. I purchased a crock pot from Target and had it shipped directly to me. So far I’ve made AOR Queso, coined by Nick Botich from our Bagram trip and shredded chili verde. Whatever canned goods I can find, I dump in the crock pot with Velveeta cheese. Oddly enough its quite delicious and I get no complaints. After all, anything with Velveeta is good, right? The chili verde turned out very well. We had a pork roast in the freezer I thawed and put in the pot. I seasoned it with a misc. assortment of spices we have and added chow hall orange juice/drink. I'm going with it being more juice than drink, but you never know. Later I added a can of diced Ortega chili’s and a can of Herdez green salsa. That cooked a little more and it was ready. Walker made rice in a rice cooker plus she had lime juice. Those two additions made it perfect.  I'm hoping for reinforcements to make more AOR Queso and I'm going to tackle cobbler next.

Today was a sunny day and the rain had cleared. In its wake  were massive lakes. When I headed to the Cadillac, it was like jumping from lily pad to lily pad. Wooden pallets had been placed over the lakes to give us a path to the entrance. Yesterday was nearly impossible to reach the bathroom as it was surrounded by a moat.

When it rains, 4x4 posts are laid out for us to walk on, but they were actually floating when we stepped on them.   

Yesterday during the rain, Renee and I were out running errands. Our vehicle needed gas and the gas pumps are only open from 0700-0930 which is before our shift. I hate relying on the other shift and gave our friends at POL (Petroleum, Oil and Lubricants) a call. They agreed to sign out the key to us and off we went. We stopped at Comm and exchanged a radio battery and then went to Comm Focal Point to have one of our Motorola radios re-keyed. Then it was off to the pumps. We drive up and and get out of the truck. We both looked at the pump and wondered what the key is for. The hose/nozzle is not secured to the pump, but when you squeeze no gas. Our main office with the big wigs was close by and we headed over there. We stopped at a nearby electrical box with two levers that happened to have locks on them. We unlocked one and moved the lever in the up position and tried the gas. Nothing. We walked back to the box and I tried to unlock the other lever, but my fingers were frozen and they would not cooperate.  Renee thinking I was a dork tried the lock herself and realized it wasn’t me, but the cold. She gets it unlocked and flips the lever while and I  squeeze. Success, the little spin dial thing wasn’t turning on the pump showing how many gallons I was taking, but I could feel the fuel in the hose. When it spilled out, I figured the tank was full.  I admit, every time I take the ASVAB, Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery, I fail the mechanics and electronic portion. According to the test results, I'm not eligible to work most items requiring moving parts.  

Our vehicle hadn’t been washed since I arrived and it was a muddy mess. It was to the point, you couldn’t see out the side windows. Our power washer has been either missing or broken, so just how do you wash a vehicle? In the bed of the truck was a giant window squeegee on a long stick. I squeegeed the sides and rinsed the squeegee in the water puddles. I tried to loosen and wipe off as much mud as possible, but left quite a bit behind. Renee and I still had more errands to do and as I drove around base I would speed up as I approached the puddles hoping the splash would reach the sides and rinse the mud off. This was actually quite effective and as it continued to rain it washed the remaining mud.

Scout Program

22 January 2011

There is a compound across the road from our main gate called Area 4. My description is solely based on what I have been told and I will later find out there is much more to the story. When Scotty first showed me around, he pointed to the area parallel to the main road with the high fence and lined with concertina wire. The fence is sprinkled with manned armed towers and along the road are signs warning of no photography or stopping at anytime. From what I have been told, my understanding of Area 4 is it is an Iraqi compound that pre-dates our occupation. Currently there are Iraqi Special Forces being trained by our Special Forces. Those Iraqi soldiers who are being trained there have their families living on the compound with them as it is too dangerous for the families to live on the local economy. If it were known their husbands were Special Forces, their lives could be endangered. Part of the support the compound receives is two outreach volunteer programs we the troops support: The Good Neighbor Program (GNP) and Scouts.  For the GNP, personnel donate items on a continuous basis such as shampoo, soap, various hygiene items, etc. Once a month a group of volunteers meet and travel to Area 4 to distribute goods and play with the kids. The other program, Scouts, is similar to the Boy/Girl Scouts program we have in the United States. Every Saturday a group of volunteers meet and also go to Area 4 and the purpose is to solely support the children by having organized activities and play time. Since Saturday is my day off, I didn’t have any conflicts and signed up.  

I knew Manriquez was planning on going and we made plans to meet at ATOC. Since we were leaving Sather we had to grab our IBA’s and figure out transportation to Area 4. What I didn’t realize was there were actually 6 of us going and one of them was my nemesis from BAF. I just cannot seem escape him. I told myself before leaving on deployment, I was going to grow and learn from the last deployment. I was not going to stress out, yell, lose my cool, or any other behavior not becoming. I am proud to say, I have kept my word. I have come close once or twice, but I have walked away and vented with Julie. I have to add, I do find it amusing though how others are seeing him the same way I do. He is in a position now with a higher sphere of authority and his true traits come out for others to observe.

Anyway, we met and piled in to the truck and headed off base.  I was the only girl and found great delight in watching the five boys figure out where we were supposed to go. They would take turns with turn here, follow those cars, no turn here, and park there. We couldn’t just drive on to Area 4. It has its own gate and is posted with more signs at the entry stating deadly force is authorized. Our instructions were to meet the group by the dirt road just north of the gate. There was a dirt road of sorts and we pulled over to wait. I have to give kudos to the person driving as the others chipped in on what we should be doing and where we should be going, he never responded or took the bait. I'm not sure I would have had the patience to keep my tongue still.  A few minutes passed and the main coordinator Tim came up to us and told us we need to be on the other dirt road. How silly of us. We turned around and joined the small convoy of trucks and vehicles that had begun to gather. Tim passed around the access roster and verified we were on the list. We saddled up and the vehicles formed a long snake as we headed to the gate. We entered with no issues and continued to follow the vehicle in front of us.

As we drove through Area 4, I was amazed to see the living conditions. I was not prepared to see the main road of Tijuana as you head south towards Ensenada. There were buildings that looked like barracks with camo patterns painted on the walls with broken windows and doors, new buildings not finished yet and then a shanty village with laundry on the line. I don’t know how descriptive I am allowed to be, but if you have ever driven through a border town, you understand. We continued to drive and came to the playground. We all parked our vehicles and walked into the playground. It was like any playground USA. There were swing sets, teeter totters, covered patio areas, large open fields and the best part, a huge group of children.

For us newbies, we were told this was open play time and walk towards the kids and play. When the Scout Master blew the whistle, follow the kids as they gathered up. I started to walk towards the kids and a little girl made a bee line towards me and took my hand. She led me to the group of girls and we sat on a bench. I had no expectations of the day and was not sure of what to expect. I hadn’t even thought about a language barrier and was surprised to realize, the girls didn’t speak English. They have a few phrases memorized such as “Please Miss, please.” They have this down very well. Through hand signs and body language you can figure out what the kids want always followed with “Please Miss, please.” One girl kept pointing to my sunglasses so I handed them to her and she quickly put them on and had a huge smile. When I motioned for the glasses back, she pulled back and repeatedly said “Please Miss, please.” I quickly learned that lesson.

Shortly after, the whistle blew and all kids ran to the assembly area. They formed up into a little platoon and officially started the day. They stood in front of several flags and when the Scout Master would say something they would all answer in unison. This happened several times and then they broke out in song. I'm assuming they sang their national anthem as they stood facing the flags and were all at attention. After finishing, we were asked to sing ours.

All of the children were standing tall and singing loud. It appeared every one of them knew the words to the song. When we sang Star Spangled Banner, the people standing directly around me

were silent. I could hear a few words and mumbles of attempts, but not the whole song. I could hear some singing coming from the other end of our group and one woman up front had a beautiful voice and she sang every note. I tried to focus on her voice as I was becoming upset. I couldn’t think of a better place to be proud of our country and I was embarrassed we lacked the same dedication in knowing our own song.  I take things like this too personally I'm sure, but is it not each person’s responsibility to know the simple things like our National Anthem? Sadly, I have come to expect people talking during the singing of the National Anthem at home, not removing their hat and not knowing the words, but I was shocked to find it also existed among us serving and protecting our flag. All of this soap boxing makes me wonder if my own kids know it. If you all are reading this, there will be a test when I get home, so start practicing!

The Scout Master blew his whistle again and the kids broke up in to groups; boys and girls and by age groups. I headed towards the girl groups and went to the craft tables. The project was making picture frames out of soft foam cut outs. There were colored strips, glue, and fun add ons.

The object was to take four strips, glue them in a rectangle shape and then glue add ons to the strips to decorate it. The end result is not what I would describe at a picture frame, but the girls had fun making their creations. The energy was very frantic and they were quick to grab what pieces they wanted.  I found myself having a hard time engaging as I couldn’t communicate with them and would stand watching them instead. One of the volunteers handed me scissors and I became the official cutter. As the strips were glued together there would be an overhang. The girls would tug on my sleeve, point and I would cut.

After helping with the craft, I moved onto another craft project. One of the volunteers had made colored dough out of flour, water, salt and dye.  The name of this game was to take a Styrofoam container lid, line it with foil, rub oil on it, flatten out a ball of dough, and then press your hand in it to make a permanent hand print. These disks would then be baked and later returned. I can’t imagine this girl’s CHU. She said she did all the prep work the night before. The containers were actual lids ripped off of the to-go containers from the chow hall and she had made all of the dough balls and had them in individual bags. Her hands were stained like a rainbow.

This craft had both boys and girls and there was the same frantic energy of needing everything now.

I headed to the field where a group of girls were playing a game of sorts.  I sat down in the ring and soon learned it was duck duck goose. It didn’t take long for me to be the goose as I chased the girls in a circle. All the girls were laughing and having fun. As I sat in the middle of the ring other girls would join me and sit on my lap or pile on me. Again, all filled with laughter.

The girls were corralled up and sent over to the conex boxes as the boys continued to play basketball and other games. A previous volunteer who had already rotated home had led a shoe drive asking friends and family from home to send their used athletic children shoes. Today, all of the girls were to receive shoes and they were very excited. They lined up in rows of two and eagerly waited. I don’t know where the articles came from, but there were also new packages (one size fits all) of knit gloves, hats and jackets.

We had about 15 minutes left of our day and it was filled with free play again. I headed over to the swings and played with the girls some more. I pushed them on the swing and then joined them as one of the guys came over and pushed us all.

I had asked questions to Tim and Erin throughout the day and was amazed by their dedication. Tim has been a contractor for several years and will be here until the very end. Erin has been here around a year and volunteers all of her days off. The hope is the program will continue without them and they are working with the local adults in hopes they will pick up the torch. They are also trying to find a scout program in the States that could sponsor them as well. The children go to school, but just about every supply they have has been donated by the Scouts program. Occasionally a trip can be arranged for the Scout Volunteers to visit the school and Tim says it looks like an empty room. They have nothing.

Volunteering with the kids was an extraordinary experience. As I played duck duck goose, I realized language wasn’t all that big of deal. I think fun is international and I just needed to put myself out there. The kids are so happy to just have us there that a smile goes a long way.

The Scout Master blew his final whistle call and the kids all ran to the assembly area. One of the other main phrases they have memorized is “Mister Mister, watch Mister.” Tim had arranged for all the kids to receive a children’s watch to continue the joke. The kids headed to the various buses and headed home.   

The other main coordinator, Erin, asked if we were going to eat with the adult volunteer group at the “kabob place” and then go to the Modif afterwards. The only two who were not on shift was Nemesis and myself.  The other four were on duty and needed to head back. Erin assured the two of us if we wanted to stay we would have a ride back to Sather. Nemesis or not, I didn’t want to pass up the opportunity. The kabob place was on Area 4 and I didn’t know if I would ever be back and I didn’t know what a Modif was, but I wasn’t going to miss that either. While writing this, I have tried to find the spelling of modif and I must be way off because I'm not finding it. Its pronounced mo-deef. I think.  Erin pulled up to the kabob place and it was a little shack with some trailers around it.

I said/asked to Erin, I don’t think they take Eagle Cash here and I don’t have any cash. Nemesis checked his pockets and he only had five bucks. Erin said we had time as the kabob place was not open yet, and she would drive us back Sather and we could pull some cash from the PX. Once we arrived at the PX, Nemesis bowed out and said his hamstring was bothering him and maybe he would go the next time. I later found out, when we pulled in to the dirt lot and he realized the kabob place was a street shack, he chickened out.  Whatever the reason, I was thrilled.

As Erin and I drove back to Area 4 I picked her brain about the kids, Scout program and anything else I could think of. She explained not all the families live on Area 4, only the lucky ones; the remaining families live in French Village which is outside and on the local economy. Husbands who work on Area 4 stay there for 4-5 days then go home for a few days and continue this rotation. She explained the importance of the Scout Program and what it teaches not only to the children but to the adults as well. The majority of society lived under the dictatorship of Saddam and what they had if anything was given to them from the government. They didn’t raise their children with the concept of working hard to make something of yourself. You were told by the government what you would do, how you would live, where you would live. Part of the transition of the country is changing the mindset of the people to think for themselves and not wait for a government to think for you.  They are frozen and can’t conceive of this concept. We talked about the frantic energy and actions of the children when doing crafts. It now makes sense. The parents have had to teach- take everything you can now, because we don’t know what we will have tomorrow. With that, they are trying to survive and don’t have the resources or the capability to invest and nourish the future of their children. The people are trying meet basic human needs. The children have not provided yet to the tribe and are not yet recognized. The Scout Program teaches both child and adult that the future is in the children. As we talked more, we drew parallels to inner city kids. When the family is run by a single parent, that person is trying to survive and provide food and shelter. Little Johnny isn’t going to get the baseball glove for Christmas or the shiny red wagon when there is no food.  You don’t not love your kids, but the time and resources to play are no there. There is no money, no hope of earning money.  Erin works with the Iraqi officials in conjunction with her regular military function to help ensure this program does not die and that the tribal leaders will take ownership in it. Its all very amazing and eye opening.

We came back to the kabob place and it was now open. Fabulous is all I can say. The rest of the group was already in side and had pushed together the plastic tables in one long row. I set my stuff down and went outside to order. I think I started to drool as I watched the owner grill kebobs over hot coals. This isn’t run to Ralph’s for charcoal coal, this is real chunks of coal that needs some kind of wax product to ignite.  He had a raised metal trench filled with hot coals and these tasty morsels of skewered meat with their drippings sizzling. I must have had a look of pure lust on my face as all I could do was stand there. A man approached me and began to explain the different meats and spoke to the cook/owner. I settled on lamb chunks and patiently waited. The gentleman and I started to talk and it turns out he lives right there in one of the trailers. He is an interrogation instructor/trainer. He told me his name, but I cant remember it. I wish I was better with names that are not the “normal” John and Mary that I'm used to. I assume people are native Iraqi’s from my own ignorance and I'm always surprised to find out they are not. This man is from Chicago and had just returned from a visit with his daughter.  He has been here in Iraq going on 8 years now and hopes his training is not forgotten when we leave. He is hopeful. He says something to the owner and then tells me he just paid for my kabobs.  I thank him and I'm touched by his kindness. I take my food inside and ask the others if they know him, and I’m met with stares. When I go back out, he is gone.

I was the only new person at the table and the others were all taking about the game. In the far corner was an old commercial freezer box with a 26’ television set playing the game, football of course and I do mean soccer. Iraqi’s are fanatical about soccer.  I sat and listened while eating my lamb. My plate had been delivered with two long skewers of meat and roasted tomatoes. Served family style were small plates with cucumber slices, tomatoes and raw onions. In the middle of the table was a huge stack of what I would call pita bread, only its bigger and better. One of the guys passed a bottle of sauce to me and said others describe it as A-1 Sauce, but he didn’t think so and I should try it. I dribbled a little on to the corner of my plate and it was incredible. I ate it on the bread. I ate it on the lamb. I ate it on the tomatoes. I'm not a steak sauce fan and I don’t know what it was, but it was good.

After dinner we headed to the Modif. The Modif was explained to me as a meeting room, a place to go for conversation and refreshments. A small group of us headed off in that direction. It too was on Area 4 and by this point, I'm all turned around and I have no idea where the gate is to get out. We arrive and I'm told the Sheikh keeps a monkey. Yep, I get to meet the Sheikh and see a monkey.  We walked into the courtyard and were immediately met by a German Sheppard type dog. He was very friendly and followed us around. On the backside of the courtyard wall I was told is where the monkey lives. Its pitch black as we stumble around and there is the monkey. One of the guys had saved some wafer cookies for him and we took turns feeding him through the cage. At first he was very cute and his little paws looked like he was wearing black gloves. He would gently take a cookie from us, nibble on it, and then toss it away. When one of the guys tried to feed him, he tried to grab his hand and was a little aggressive.  He came close to swiping one of our faces. I then tried to feed him another wafer and he grabbed my hand and startled me. His little paws are very powerful. We tired of Mr. Monkey and headed indoors. Outside we removed our boots and entered. The room was lined with carpets with pillows surround the walls. I was instructed to follow the person in front of me and greet everyone in the room as we walked around. We shook everyone’s hand and were either greeted in Arabic or English.

We took our seats in the square and were then served tiny cups of Turkish coffee. When done with the coffee, the servant returned and you are to shake your cup back and forth quickly as you hand him your cup. If you hand the cup back with no shake, he will pour more and hand the cup back. In our little group, the joke is on you if they don’t share this secret with you. On a previous trip, one person had 7 cups before they let him in on the secret. After coffee, the servant came back and gave us a small glass cylinder shape tea cup with a miniature spoon and saucer. The tea is very hot and very sweet. As more people entered the Modif, the same ritual would be repeated. The person would walk around the room and we would stand and greet them in return. This up and down was killing my knees and after the fourth up and down they shared another secret- woman do not have to stand. One of the gentlemen in our party, Francis, lives in Area 4 with his family and he and his wife joined us that night.  

Tim was sitting across from me and I had many questions for him. Every question I had, he would defer to Francis. Eventually Francis sat in the center of the room and answered my questions to the group. He is quite the storyteller and we were mesmerized.

I’m going to summarize what Francis said as I could not even begin to try and capture his words.

Sheikhs were originally the leader of their tribe and responsible for their people. He would provide food, shelter and safety.  Through the years the term sheikh has also meant to define a religious leader. A person can study to be a sheikh. One of the other main responsibilities is to provide a Modif. Modif is a place where travelers could come and rest from the long trip.

The greater the wealth of the sheikh, the greater the refreshments. A traveler would never be asked is he were hungry or thirsty as this would be an insult. This would put the traveler in an awkward situation where he would say he want hungry as he wouldn’t want to appear rude. The sheikh would order the servant, usually a young boy, to bring the weary traveler drink and food. The traveler could stay as long as he wished.

I asked what one gentleman had in his hands. Francis explained the difference between worry beads and prayer beads. Worry beads are kept in your hand to keep your fingers busy. It releases nervous energy as you think or speak while prayer beads are similar to the Rosary. There is a prayer you repeat and there are 99 beads to represent the 99 names of Allah.

He went on and told stories of his first Modif visit with his father and other antidotes. He was fascinating. Erin had told me earlier, Francis was an educated professor and had lived in a beautiful home prior to the war. He and his wife fled and have been living on Area 4 since. His youngest daughter was born after the war and never knew the old life. With the influence of Erin, he has enrolled his daughters in school.

I almost forgot, I never did meet the Sheikh. His son was there though in his Iraqi officer uniform and seemed to be a nice man. Maybe I will visit again and have another chance. One last interesting note- I'm not allowed to post pictures of any adults who live on Area 4, but the children are ok. And the gentleman sitting next to Tim is not Francis, but rather a civilian contractor who also volunteers his time.