Oh Sylvia

I may or may not subscribe to the Rory Gilmore book club on Goodreads. Any who, they sent me an email that said they were reading Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar. I'm thinking that might not be a good idea today. The conference is in five days. I've got people flying in from all over the world and a ton of people coming in from all over the country. It is going to be wicked cool, but wicked crazy.

A look inside my mind

Ironically, there is a PhD student doing his dissertation on Iraqi police force training and he is here for four months. We've sort of adopted him. I think I see grants for doing police force training on human rights in our future. Here the police simply open fire on the crowd instead of trying to disperse protesters with tear gas or rubber bullets. The protests have been on the other side of town and so everything in our neighborhood has been quiet. Occasionally I can hear sirens in the distance, but that is it. Our staff have been wonderful keeping me posted on the news, because most of the news is in Kurdish or Arabic. For some reason what is happening in Sulaimaniya isn't making the headlines. Anyway, over the course of my life I have adopted the boy scout motto- always be prepared. I always carry an umbrella. In the pill box in my purse is every med that I may have need of. Anytime I go on a trip here I pack snacky poos and water. You get the picture.

We were talking today about exit plans and this is where my mind goes... Do you remember that scene in Gone With the Wind when the depot blows up and Rhett decides to be patriotic and leaves Scarlett with a broken down horse and a gun. That gun came in handy and so just in case the Yankees blow up the depot I think I need a gun. I should probably find a horse too. In my mind that makes perfect sense.

A single spark

All around me people are standing up for their very basic rights. It is interesting to see the world finally learn that the people in Egypt were living in abject poverty and living under a dictatorship. Well, no longer, I hope. There have been reports of unrest in Iraq, beyond attacks from Al-Qaida. A couple of weeks ago Goran, the opposition party here in Kurdistan, was threatening that people would take to the streets. That never really happened. Then today 1,000 people marched in downtown Sulaimaniya. The peaceful protest took a turn for the worse when people marched on the KDP building. Right now I am waiting for the news to be confirmed, but it sounds like the protesters threw some rocks and the guards at KDP opened fire on the crowd. The reports are 2-5 people were killed and 40+ people wounded. The streets now in Sulaimaniya are quiet. A curfew has been imposed on the city until 7AM tomorrow. I can understand though why people would be frustrated here. Especially here. There are no excuses as to why the electricity is not functioning. Unlike, Baghdad or Basra, the U.S. has not bombed the infrastructure here. Food prices are soaring and most people live with Kerosene heaters. They have barely enough heat to warm their house, let alone have hot water or the ability to do laundry. This is a country rich in natural resources, but the gains from those resources have not made it to most of the people on the street. I am very sorry, that such a tragedy had to happen here, but I can only pray that the politicians take notice and start to serve their people.

The last days

Oh Istanbul. I still never finished describing all the fun we had in Turkey. This is going to be a bit of a laundry list but I hope the pictures will make up for the lack of narrative. The next day we went to the Blue mosque and the Hagia (pronounced Eye-ya) Sophia. Both are absolutely amazing and beautiful in different and unique ways. I forgot to mention as we were leaving the Blue Mosque a delegation from Saudi Arabia was in town. About two hundred some odd men started heading into the mosque. It was a very interesting sight.

Some of the pictures I took my friend took as well with a digital camera and so I'm going to show you both of them. This is of the ceiling of the courtyard at the Blue Mosque.

Here is the mosque outside:

We also went to the bazaar, which outside of Khan el-Khalili in Cairo, is some of the best shopping I have encountered. I bought jewelry for me and friends, spices, sweets, lanterns and on the way home I bought a rug that I absolutely fell in love with.

The next day we went to Princes Island. As we were waiting for the boat to leave I took this picture which I feel sums up the spirit of Turkey:

Here it is in color:

It took about an hour boat ride and you see the Eastern and Western side of turkey.

Princes Island is a bit like Mackinac Island and there aren't any cars, except for some service vehicles. We took a horse carriage up to the Greek church at the top of the hill. Here is a picture of our horse and driver:

 While we were there a group of Greek Orthodox tourists came up to the church and some how we got swept into the chapel with them. After a few awkward moments we slipped out and walked over the grounds.

That night we saw a performance of the whirling dervishes. There is an old converted bath house that has been made into their performance space and it is called the Hodja Pasha Cultural Center. Sometimes there are whirling dervish performances in public, but they do not compare to this one. I can only describe it as a spiritual experience. It was definitely one of the highlights of our trip.

The remains of my day

I'm catching up on posts that I started a month ago and never finished. In January I had our first meeting with the community and tribal leaders that went amazingly well. Nothing could have prepared me for the day though. I mentioned in a previous post that when they all arrived I was in a bit of shock. The next day got even more...interesting. I started our meeting with a brief introduction of who I was and who we were. At that point one of the Sheikh's from Baghdad asked a question which my translator translated for me word by word. He asked how old I was, if I was married, where I was from and who my family was in order to determine who I was because I was going to be working with them. I asked my other staff member how I was supposed to answer that and he said, very carefully. I told the group that I and my family were from Chicago and I was very happy to be here. I then sat down and shut up. Over lunch the same Sheikh came to my table and said that he thought in order to create peace between America and Iraq he should take an American wife. Thankfully the rest of the afternoon went well and then came dinner.

I arrived early and sat down at the table to wait for our group. Then the group of Sheikhs come in and they all sat down surrounding me. My dear friend from Baghdad arranged to have one of our NGO partners sit between him and I to serve as a translator. After about 15 people sat down one of my staff came in with the group and just stopped, stared at me, laughed and then thought to ask if I was ok. I said, yes. Then the next staff member came and did the same, then the next and the next. You get the picture. So, the NGO gentleman had told me earlier that I had gained weight since I last saw him. It seems that you can feel free to talk about someone's weight in Iraq, but not certain other things. Anyways, dinner arrives and I wait for everyone else to start eating. At that point the Sheikh orders the NGO guy to put some food on my plate. At first he refuses to give me any rice because rice is fattening. At the same time the Sheikh reaches for half a chicken and goes to put it on my plate. I said no thank-you I am a vegetable eater (there is no real translation for vegetarian) in Arabic. He says, but you are in Iraq, and I explained I had been a vegetarian for 20 years. He said that was not possible because I was not a day over 18. I laughed and said nice try, but I was still not going to tell him how old I was. He threw back his head and laughed. Nothing like a little banter with a Sheikh.  All in a days work.

 

Amna Suraka Prison

In October we went to Amna Suraka, or the Red Security Building. It is now a museum that is dedicated to  remembering the atrocities that took place under Saddam's regime. Amna Suraka was initially a prison that was run by the Baathists and men, women and children were held and tortured there. In 1991 the Kurds threw off the chains of oppression and came down from the hills and took back the prison. The building is still riddled with bullet holes and the tanks are sitting in the courtyard.

 

The museum does not sensationalize the atrocities that were done there, but gives a silent voice to the people who were tortured and killed. The day that we were there a documentary was being shot and the people in the documentary were men who had been held in the prison. One of the men took us around and showed us his prison cell. One of the cells had poetry on the wall and our guide sadly told us that the poet did not make it out alive. In another one of the buildings there are pictures of the chemical attacks of Halubja and Anfal. Hundreds of thousands of Kurds were killed by Saddam. In villages that escaped the killing the Kurds were displaced and Baathists moved into their homes. The repercussions of these acts are felt in Kurdistan today. Our guide stopped in front of a picture depicting a mass grave. He told us his friend had been killed and put in that grave. He took us to a part of the compound that had a wall and a small ditch in the ground and he said this is where people were shot and their blood ran out through the ditch. He could not continue on because grief choked his words. 

We visited the Hall of Mirrors where pieces of broken mirrors line the walls and ceiling and represent the 182,000 victims of the Anfal campaign. Twinkling lights are all across the ceiling and represent 5000 Kurdish villages that were annihilated. We walked in silence through the cool dark hallway and stepped through a door into the hot bright sun. We rejoined the other men who were dressed in Kurdish clothes and sporting wounds. They were taking a tea break from filming. Even though these men had been held in this prison they still came back to tell the world their story. Their courage and generosity of spirit is a testament to the Kurdish people.

My words cannot do justice to the day, but I hope my pictures can try to do so.

Lost in Conference Planning

I miss my blog. I miss sharing stories and hearing your comments. Things have been a bit crazy because I am planning a conference for 200 some odd people in Erbil, which is a city North of us. Imagine event planning, now imagine event planning in Iraq. Any questions?