Today, one of our interpreters came into my office and asked how I was. I gave the stock answer: “I can’t complain.”
The truth is that I am often seen mumbling under my breath about something that irks me.
After he left, however, I thought about my statement, and some of the things that have happened here in Baghdad over the past few months, and how insignificant my troubles seem in comparison to the events that are affecting people like these:
- One of custodial staff is a local Iraqi (there are about 10 total). He’s a wonderful man…a father of four children who drags himself out of bed at 4 a.m. every morning (and I mean EVERY morning — he has no weekends off). He traverses the red zone (where all the bombs explode) and makes his way to the Combined Press Information Center to spend his 10-hour work day providing grounds maintenance (in extreme heat) and cleaning up after we fortunate American Soldiers leave here in a few weeks. Unfortunately, he will stay. Thanks to a bomb that exploded in August, the car that brings him here to work is even less dependable than it was before. And, how much do you think he makes for all his troubles? Less for a full day’s work than most of our Soldiers make in one hour working entry-level jobs.
- Another man I know asked the Americans if he could build a restaurant on one of our forward operating bases about a year ago. We told him yes, so he spent, by his estimate, about $200,000 creating a very nice building. Then, we changed the rules and told him he could not open the building. We told him the food from the local economy is not safe to feed American Soldiers, even though this man has catered all the special events at the CPIC for Soldiers and our guests, and no one has ever become ill. He is a gracious man who always smiles….maybe because he knows that a frown may ruin any chance he has of someone, anyone, changing the rules again and letting him open his restaurant.
- A local Iraqi woman who has visited the CPIC wants nothing else but to be a journalist. She wants to make this country live up to promises of freedom. She wants to be able to tell the stories that need to be told, but she cannot. She fears for her life if some of her stories are printed. Whether or not the fear is real or imagined is not important. The truth is that Iraq has been the most dangerous place for journalists for the past six years. When we dedicated the Combined Press Information Center to all those who had died to guarantee the freedoms of the people of Iraq, the number included more than the 4,300 American sons and daughters…it also included the more than 250 media staff that have died here since 2003.
With all this conflict and pain, and the hundreds of other similiar stories I’ve encountered over the past 10 months, you would think that I would become jaded and disillusioned, but just the opposite is true. I realize that there is pain and suffering everywhere….Iraq is no different than any other place…but there is something special here that keeps me from mumbling too loud when I get upset.
But, more than the acts of our own Soldiers, I am humbled by the generosity and resiliency of those with even less to give. Today, our custodial staff — including the man I mentioned at the beginning of this blog — dug into their pockets and, with cooking assistance from their wives, brought our staff a delicious meal of barbequed fish, freshvegetables, stuffed grape leaves, baked bread, and a local dish with rice, dates, and nuts. As we lined up to take part in this feast, they stood on the side refusing to eat until all of us had our fill.
As LTC Perez has stated to me on several occasions, our CPIC is an oasis in many ways. It seems to me that all those who come here have found a way to peacefully coexist and support each other. So, I really have no right or need to complain. We might not be able to change the overall course of the nation of Iraq, but together we have all changed the course for many of those who have passed through our doors. Although we are all ready to leave Iraq, I hope each of us can bring some of that back with us. Now I ask you, how could I complain about that?
Donzens of individuals and groups -- most strangers -- have sent us boxes of treats to make our time pass by quickly.
SPC Gardner and SGT Lee put smiles on the faces of children at the refugee center.
1LT Larrew poses with some of the friends he has helped during his year in Iraq.
SGT Leech's special friend visits her for a midnight snack (she wants to tell everyone she NEVER touched the cat since that is against the rules and could transmit disease).
