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Doug's Iraq Journey for students 

Sunday, March 9, 2003---Day 17    

Today Rumzy and I got the red carpet treatment in a school in the poorest part of Baghdad: Saddam City.  Rumzy has been working on a project to promote communication between Iraqi and American students.  Iraqi students write letters that Rumzy then sends to a designated class in the states via internet, and within days he has responses which are delivered back to the Iraqis.  It’s a wonderful idea.  By getting to know each other, by breaking down misconceptions and prejudice, we can begin to appreciate how much we have in common.   

     The school we visited was Qutaiba Secondary School, headed by Saad Mehson, which is all male, has 745 students, 22 teachers, and students’ ages are from 16-23.  Walking into the building was like entering a Third World prison.  A maze of corridors took us past classrooms that resembled cells, visible through rusty metal grates over broken, soot-covered windows.  The “W.C” (bathroom) had no sinks, no toilets or toilet paper, and no running water.  Just a small basin built into the floor, behind decrepit, collapsing stalls.  The classroom we entered was barren, save for the desks and wooden planks on which to sit.  I saw no chalk, no paper, and very few books.

Yet remarkably, the students manage to learn.  They’re clean cut, well behaved, respectful, and knowledgeable of world affairs.  Many of them speak some English, and all of them wrote their letters in English.  They raised their hands and stood to speak when they had questions, while others listened attentively.  Although surrounded by squalor and crumbling walls, although facing possible annihilation by the US military, they wanted to learn, and remarkably they wanted to learn from two Americans.    

     I, in particular, can appreciate this.  I was a junior high substitute teacher in Louisville, where TVs and computers in the classroom is the norm.  I quit after four days.  During that time I broke up two fights, and I could never get them to sit down - let alone be quiet.  I knew I wasn’t cut out for the job, but it was more than that.  It has something to do with our culture.  In the US people can be very hospitable, and they’ll often make you “feel at home,” but that often doesn’t apply to people like substitute teachers, especially ones from “aggressor nations.”  Iraqis, however, have a custom, that when you enter an Iraqi home, you become the owner and they become your guest.  As I found out, this applies to their classrooms as well.

     After Rumzy and I were served tea, the Iraqi students asked us questions before writing their letters.  “Why does the US government attack Iraq for having WMD, when countries like Israel and N. Korea have them, and both threaten their neighbors?” one asked.  “Why does the US government continue to impose sanctions on Iraq 12 years after the Gulf War?” asked another.  “What would America do if sanctions were imposed on it or if occupied by a foreign power?” challenged another.  “We love America,” one declared.  “Why is the US government hurting us?”  Look around you… doesn’t the US government realize we’re suffering?”  And so on…

     Despite their anger and sense of betrayal, they were courteous and respectful, and they never once confused us with George Bush.  The classroom became ours and the students became our guests. 

Washington Post's 

Confronting Iraq Report 

has videos, photos of Baghdad; updated troop deployments

Monday, March 10, 2003---Day 18

 I went to renew my visa today with Charlie and Liza.  The extensions were not only denied, we were told to be out of the country by the end of the day.  No problem, I thought.  We’ll figure a way around this.  My situation here is teaching me to take things in stride and not to panic.  We went back to the hotel and told Kathy Kelly, she made a call and talked to the right person, and two hours later we had our visa extended.  I got 7 more days, after which I’m told I need to leave the country.  We’ll see about that.

     A journalist in our group, Thorne, told me today that German and French journalists have left Iraq.  The US is polling the UN daily to see if they have the votes for a resolution, and when it’s clear that they don’t (which is likely), instead of waiting for the vote, Thorne thinks they might begin bombing immediately.  That could be as early as Wednesday (day after tomorrow).  I have also just heard that Colin Powel went on TV to announce that President Bush will address the nation on March 17 and he will likely start war then.

     The mood on the street is getting more tense.  I noticed it in the man who processed our visas.  Mohammed, our driver, seems quiet and nervous and is demanding more money.  Even the children on the street begging for money seemed a bit more persistent and “clingy.”  At one point in the afternoon, soldiers wearing green uniforms suddenly popped up around the city on street corners and sidewalks.  Then, before we knew it they slipped back into the cracks and were gone.  We think they were part of a special unit doing a drill to prepare for martial law.  I just learned this minute that the UN is evacuating Iraq on Wednesday, except for senior officials. 

     We just decided to hold an early morning demonstration against the UN departure on Wednesday.  Kathy and Ed just wrote up a press release and we plan to make banners.  An idea for one is “DON’T TURN YOUR BACK ON THE SCOURGE OF WAR.”  A second banner might read, “900 SAVED; 23 MILLION OTHERS STILL IN DANGER.”  Thorne suggested that we block the UN vehicles from leaving (temporarily), and ask the UN officials to stand with us for a minute of silence. 

     On Wednesday we will be trained to identify and report human rights violations and war crimes.  We won’t be experts, but we’ll at least have a sense of what to look for and how to language reports that will contribute to something more comprehensive.

     Chris Chandler from WHAS called tonight and we began an interview, but the connection went bad.  He called back but still no luck.  I had a new phone installed immediately, but it was too late.

Wednesday, March 12, 2003---Day 20

 I’m on my balcony smoking a fine Cuban cigar, enjoying the fact that I’m in violation of two unjust embargos at once.  For the first time since I’ve been in Baghdad, a fine mist has just fallen on the city, leaving a glaze on the 5-lane asphalt parkway below, reflecting the cars’ headlights like moons on a calm black lake.

     I feel a sense of dread and loneliness.  After a very busy morning, I’ve spent a good part of the day alone, contemplating the horror of what my country plans to do.  “Shock and Awe” doesn’t even begin to describe it.  I’m profoundly disappointed in the US government, while I’ve never been prouder of the US peace movement.  I miss my friends in Louisville, Kentucky.  I’m scared for my safety and for the safety of the millions of wonderful Iraqis, and I’m worried about what will happen after the bombing has ended.  The word is that the US military has no viable system in place to feed the people once their infrastructure is destroyed.  At least 16 million people here rely on food rationing (which in Iraq is very efficient), and they will starve without this food.  The US has plans to provide food rations (one meal) for only three million people.

     Already the mist on the road has begun to dry.  So goes life in Baghdad; change is swift.

     We bid farewell to the UN early this morning at 6:30.  We arrived to find the media already set up, tipped off by us the day before.  We unveiled our poster-sized photos of Iraqis we’ve gotten to know, and we spread ourselves out along the highway to display them to the parting UN personnel.  The UN Charter provides for justice and human rights for all the people on this planet, and we wanted to remind the UN of  the people they’re abandoning.   We remained there for two hours as morning traffic passed by, vehicles honked, and passengers waved and gave us thumbs up.  Eventually, clusters of white UN vans emerged from the UN compound and drove slowly by, as the UN officials avoided making eye contact with us.

     We then headed to the Wathba Water-Treatment facility, the oldest one in Baghdad – built in 1938.  It’s main water pipeline was bombed in ’91 along with a nearby electrical plant, causing a loss of sanitary water to the local community and to an adjacent hospital.  We again unveiled our photos, along with a banner that said “To Bomb This Site is a War Crime.”  Several in our group did interviews with Rueters, and we got a tour of the facility by the manger while a dozen of the employees looked on.

     I spent the afternoon in my room resting, and this evening I went with Rumzi to buy clipboards and pick up copies of our war-crimes questionnaire that we’ll be using once war breaks out.  Our war-crimes monitoring training will likely begin tomorrow or Friday, once a new delegation arrives.

     Rumzi suggested that we begin sleeping in the bomb shelter starting on Sunday.