Over the last several weeks as we've passed through the outskirts of Al Kut on our way to scheduled stops out in the province we noticed a bustle of activity that piqued our interest. We found out that it was the Al Kut livestock market, where sheep and cows are traded. After a bit of reluctance on the part of the Army based on security concerns, we were told we could go.
First, it is necessary to understand how important sheep and other livestock are to Iraqi farmers. One of my colleagues describes them as "biological bank accounts." Simply put, in the absence of a properly functioning banking system, it is a way for people to accumulate equity. This equity can be easily liquidated to provide cash to maintain daily living or for critical expenses that may emerge suddenly. The "interest" from this livestock -- the milk, lambs, and calves -- also provides a source of income.
Second, at least here in Wasit, the extensive irrigation system is not functioning properly and there are large tracts of land (75-80% of the arable land here by some reports) where the salt concentration in the soil is too high to grow crops. As a result, there are vast areas of fallow land that are unproductive and only scrubby vegetation grows. In the absence of crop production, the only alternative for these farmers is to graze livestock. With the ongoing drought, even once productive farmland has become rangeland that has been given over to grazing.
Without a doubt, sheep are most important. Iraqi sheep are widely esteemed in the region and the locally adapted breeds appear robust and hardy (and tasty I might add). Most flocks we have seen are about 100 animals, with some goats and a few cows mixed in. We have also seen water buffalo and even a few herds of camels!
So, back to the livestock market....
The market is located in an area with rough crumbling houses, the hulks of wrecked cars, drifts of wind-blown trash, and puddles of oily-black water. Despite the obvious poverty of the neighborhood, nearly every house had a small satellite dish, sprouting like mushrooms after a spring rain from the mud-brick houses.
Our army escorts were concerned about our safety in the area and we were careful to plan our movements there. First, we approached with our vehicles from a back entrance and parked well away from the center of activity. Then one of our BBA/translators went with a couple of soldiers to engage a few of the people in the market to gauge the situation. Once it was determined that our presence would not be too disruptive we dismounted and stayed close together as a group and move along the market periphery. Of course, the Iraqis were curious about our presence, were not deterred by armed US soldiers and came right up to us to find out what we were looking for.
We attracted quite a crowd, including some rather rambunctious kids who appeared to be living some kind of marginal existence from the crumbs that fell from the table of market transactions. Our security detail formed a tight bubble around us facing outward, with us and those Iraqis curious enough to come inside. It was a rather chaotic scene and we did not stay too long, but we did feel comfortable enough to move around and talk with livestock sellers, buyers, and butchers.
Some of the livestock was not in very good condition, an obvious manifestation of the drought. Several sellers repeated the phrase "Alef maku! Alef maku!" (No feed! No feed!), complaining bitterly about government subsidies that have dried up along with their grazing lands. Another hoarse-voiced man came up to me and asked if I could help him fix his throat. I could only turn up my hands in helplessness.
Just before leaving, as I watched bargaining come to completion and cash exchange hands in one transaction, I felt as though I was being transported back in time, that this was a scene dating back 50, 100, 500, maybe 1,000 years. I could feel the sweep of the long history of this region writ small through the seemingly endless repetition of this market scene. It was a dizzying moment of near vertigo that quickly passed when a soldier tapped me on the shoulder and told me that it was time to go.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Sunday, September 21, 2008
On the Border
Writing this from Camp Shocker, a small U.S. Army base about 5 km from the border with Iran, near a town called Badrah. From here we can look to the east and see some impressive mountains in the haze. That's Iran. This area reminds me a bit of southern California, particularly the Chocolate Mountains area near the Salton Sea.
Yesterday we went up to the "POE," or point-of-entry, a sprawling confusion of fences, T-walls, check points, milling people, and lines of parked trucks. We climbed an observation tower to get an overview. Looking over into Iran there was a fleet of parked trucks, filled with watermelons and canteloupes, that had arrived during the night. Below the tower was a line of empty trucks from Iraq, waiting to enter a neutral zone to receive the loads of Iranian cargo. We met some produce brokers who were walking over to the Iranian trucks to begin bidding, auction style, on the loads of produce. Once a deal is struck, the Iranian trucks move into the neutral zone and the cargo is loaded onto the Iraqi trucks. Depending on the time of year, lots of onions, tomatoes, cucumbers, as well as building materials and all manner of consumer goods are passed across the border.
The POE has three "corridors," one each for cargo, people, and fuel. Iraq allows 2,000 people to cross the POE from Iran every day. Most are religious pilgrims headed for the holy Shiite cities of Karbala and Najaf. It takes about 45-90 minutes to cross the border. Every military-age male is processed by both American and Iraqi authorities. They are photographed, fingerprinted, and given a retinal scan. Waiting for the pilgrims on the Iraqi side is a fleet of large air-conditioned buses and small mini-vans. The flow of fuel across the POE is in one direction only, from Iran to Iraq. Tanker trucks carrying refined fuels (diesel, gasoline, kerosene, and propane) represent a critical lifeline because the refinery capacity in Iraq comes nowhere near meeting demand. The lines at gas stations are really impressive and no doubt try the patience of even the most stout-hearted Iraqi motorist.
Next we visited the mayor of Zurbatia, a small, tidy town, with broad clean streets, a pleasant but quiet place. He told us a story we've heard a lot in this area, that the Iranians have constructed a series of dams that restrict the flow of water into this part of Iraq. Most of the farmers in this area would like to grow crops of wheat and barley, and try to do that the best they can most years, but the main crop here is sheep, which are grazed on sparse range land dotted with clumps of thorny plants. Unlike other parts of this province and many other parts of Iraq with a long history of irrigation, the land here is good and the soil isn't too salty to grow crops. We heard about the need for dam projects, well projects, a big project that brings water here from the Tigris River. One or more of these are needed for farmers here to realize the agricultural potential of this area.
We have visited two small villages since coming here a couple of days ago, and we'll visit another one tomorrow morning. We heard from villagers about how the Iraqi army destroyed one village during the Iran-Iraq war in the 1980s, with most of the surrounding grazing land turned into a battlefield. We heard how Saddam cut down local date-palm orchards to punish local villagers because they were thought to be Iranian sympathizers. The determined villagers returned in 1988 to rebuild their community. Now they struggle to be farmers, facing the effects of an extended drought and with next to no government subsidies or other support. They are so determined and optimistic that they will sell sheep in order to buy seeds when needed if those that are promised by the Ministry of Agriculture arrive too late to plant at the proper time.
Just before leaving the village that we visited early this morning, several farmers produced pieces of paper that indicated that they were being fined for planting vegetables, which had been forbidden by the area water resources director general (DG) because the crop required too much scarce water. The way the story was told and translated, we left with the impression that the farmers had been done a grave and unreasonable injustice. After all, the farmers were just growing vegetables for their own consumption. We promised to take the matter up with local agricultural and water resource officials we had scheduled to meet later in the morning. At the meeting, the water resource DG grew animated and indignant when we raised the subject. First of all, the water resources DG was a woman, wrapped in the traditional abaya, but she was assertive and outspoken, and had the ear of the Badrah mayor and was deferred to by the other assembled ag and water DGs. She claimed that the farmers had been warned prior to being fined and that she was, for the first time in the area, attempting to uphold local regulations about water use. She said that the farmers did not realize that what they were doing was affecting the availability of water for the commercially valuable date palm orchards. As the meeting broke up, she and one of our translator/BBAs really got into it, none of it personal, but this woman is obviously passionate about her work. Because she can see the big picture of all the pressures on water resources in the area, she has to make tough decisions that result in fines and that are unpopular with villagers who are used to using water without regard to other users. This is classic "Tragedy of the Commons" stuff.
So, in the morning we had promised to return to the village for lunch. Although we were tired and hot from a long morning of meetings, we headed back to the village. The village farmers were off tending to business elsewhere, but the village sheikh was there and hosted a fabulous lunch of barbecued and boiled lamb, chunks of lamb liver and fat from the tail of the sheep, bowls of cucumber salad and pickles, fresh loaves of pita bread, laban (yogurt), watermelon, and dates. The sheikh was obviously not keeping fast during Ramadan and in fact spoke openly of his large appetites for food and sex. We told him of our meeting with the water resources DG and admitted that the arguments of his fellow farmers did not have much merit. So, we brought the complaint full circle. It would have been nice to talk with the farmers that originally brought this up. It is clear that we did not get the full story from them when we spoke about it this morning.
Another thing that keeps coming up is the expectations that people have of us. Whether farmers at the village level, agriculture and water resource leaders, members of provincial councils, and even governors we have met, all have high expectations of us. We try our best to listen to their concerns and hopefully through the reports we write, the recommendations we make, and some of the projects we start, we will be able to make some small difference in the lives of the people here. At the very least, we know that we have fostered goodwill and created a positive impression. The people we have met are all positive about our engagment with them.
Yesterday we went up to the "POE," or point-of-entry, a sprawling confusion of fences, T-walls, check points, milling people, and lines of parked trucks. We climbed an observation tower to get an overview. Looking over into Iran there was a fleet of parked trucks, filled with watermelons and canteloupes, that had arrived during the night. Below the tower was a line of empty trucks from Iraq, waiting to enter a neutral zone to receive the loads of Iranian cargo. We met some produce brokers who were walking over to the Iranian trucks to begin bidding, auction style, on the loads of produce. Once a deal is struck, the Iranian trucks move into the neutral zone and the cargo is loaded onto the Iraqi trucks. Depending on the time of year, lots of onions, tomatoes, cucumbers, as well as building materials and all manner of consumer goods are passed across the border.
The POE has three "corridors," one each for cargo, people, and fuel. Iraq allows 2,000 people to cross the POE from Iran every day. Most are religious pilgrims headed for the holy Shiite cities of Karbala and Najaf. It takes about 45-90 minutes to cross the border. Every military-age male is processed by both American and Iraqi authorities. They are photographed, fingerprinted, and given a retinal scan. Waiting for the pilgrims on the Iraqi side is a fleet of large air-conditioned buses and small mini-vans. The flow of fuel across the POE is in one direction only, from Iran to Iraq. Tanker trucks carrying refined fuels (diesel, gasoline, kerosene, and propane) represent a critical lifeline because the refinery capacity in Iraq comes nowhere near meeting demand. The lines at gas stations are really impressive and no doubt try the patience of even the most stout-hearted Iraqi motorist.
Next we visited the mayor of Zurbatia, a small, tidy town, with broad clean streets, a pleasant but quiet place. He told us a story we've heard a lot in this area, that the Iranians have constructed a series of dams that restrict the flow of water into this part of Iraq. Most of the farmers in this area would like to grow crops of wheat and barley, and try to do that the best they can most years, but the main crop here is sheep, which are grazed on sparse range land dotted with clumps of thorny plants. Unlike other parts of this province and many other parts of Iraq with a long history of irrigation, the land here is good and the soil isn't too salty to grow crops. We heard about the need for dam projects, well projects, a big project that brings water here from the Tigris River. One or more of these are needed for farmers here to realize the agricultural potential of this area.
We have visited two small villages since coming here a couple of days ago, and we'll visit another one tomorrow morning. We heard from villagers about how the Iraqi army destroyed one village during the Iran-Iraq war in the 1980s, with most of the surrounding grazing land turned into a battlefield. We heard how Saddam cut down local date-palm orchards to punish local villagers because they were thought to be Iranian sympathizers. The determined villagers returned in 1988 to rebuild their community. Now they struggle to be farmers, facing the effects of an extended drought and with next to no government subsidies or other support. They are so determined and optimistic that they will sell sheep in order to buy seeds when needed if those that are promised by the Ministry of Agriculture arrive too late to plant at the proper time.
Just before leaving the village that we visited early this morning, several farmers produced pieces of paper that indicated that they were being fined for planting vegetables, which had been forbidden by the area water resources director general (DG) because the crop required too much scarce water. The way the story was told and translated, we left with the impression that the farmers had been done a grave and unreasonable injustice. After all, the farmers were just growing vegetables for their own consumption. We promised to take the matter up with local agricultural and water resource officials we had scheduled to meet later in the morning. At the meeting, the water resource DG grew animated and indignant when we raised the subject. First of all, the water resources DG was a woman, wrapped in the traditional abaya, but she was assertive and outspoken, and had the ear of the Badrah mayor and was deferred to by the other assembled ag and water DGs. She claimed that the farmers had been warned prior to being fined and that she was, for the first time in the area, attempting to uphold local regulations about water use. She said that the farmers did not realize that what they were doing was affecting the availability of water for the commercially valuable date palm orchards. As the meeting broke up, she and one of our translator/BBAs really got into it, none of it personal, but this woman is obviously passionate about her work. Because she can see the big picture of all the pressures on water resources in the area, she has to make tough decisions that result in fines and that are unpopular with villagers who are used to using water without regard to other users. This is classic "Tragedy of the Commons" stuff.
So, in the morning we had promised to return to the village for lunch. Although we were tired and hot from a long morning of meetings, we headed back to the village. The village farmers were off tending to business elsewhere, but the village sheikh was there and hosted a fabulous lunch of barbecued and boiled lamb, chunks of lamb liver and fat from the tail of the sheep, bowls of cucumber salad and pickles, fresh loaves of pita bread, laban (yogurt), watermelon, and dates. The sheikh was obviously not keeping fast during Ramadan and in fact spoke openly of his large appetites for food and sex. We told him of our meeting with the water resources DG and admitted that the arguments of his fellow farmers did not have much merit. So, we brought the complaint full circle. It would have been nice to talk with the farmers that originally brought this up. It is clear that we did not get the full story from them when we spoke about it this morning.
Another thing that keeps coming up is the expectations that people have of us. Whether farmers at the village level, agriculture and water resource leaders, members of provincial councils, and even governors we have met, all have high expectations of us. We try our best to listen to their concerns and hopefully through the reports we write, the recommendations we make, and some of the projects we start, we will be able to make some small difference in the lives of the people here. At the very least, we know that we have fostered goodwill and created a positive impression. The people we have met are all positive about our engagment with them.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Men Talk, Women Work
Today we visited a small rural village of about 2,000 people about 10 km from Al Kut. The 30 families that live there farm around 400 acres of land, mostly wheat, barley, corn, and vegetables (eggplant, cucumber, watermelon). We were greeted by the village leaders and taken to a large carpeted meeting room where we sat cross-legged and talked with the village sheiks and others about agriculture and their needs. The original settlers of this land came from Maysan Province to the south in the 1960s. Maysan, also known as Amarah, is known as the poorest province in Iraq. (It is also where the team will go next month.) Many people from Amarah moved to the northeast corner of Baghdad, the sprawling slum of Sadr City. The people from this village, and apparently others from Amarah, have been passed by even when times were good. The village was a rough place, although they have electricity when it is supplied (abour 4-6 hours daily). The lack of electricity also limits the capacity to pump water from the nearby Tigris River. The lack of diesel fuel (we have seen LONG lines at gas stations) means that auxiliary diesel-powered water pumps are not operating as well.
Anway, I digress a little bit. The main point of this entry, as suggested in the title, is the obvious sexual division of labor. Of course, this is not unique to Iraq. I have just taken notice of it recently. We meet with men, mostly older but also some younger men and boys, and never women. When we meet, we talk, we take notes, we nod our head in understanding. But in the background, out working in the fields, invariably we see women and young girls working, doing the actual farming. We see them transplanting vegetable seedlings, weeding fields, tending sheep, cutting and carrying bulging sacks of alfalfa as fodder for cows and sheep, gathering fallen dates, building cookstoves, and making dung patties. Of course, women are also doing domestic work such as hauling water, cleaning house, doing laundry, and taking care of children. Sadly their voice is not heard in our conversations but we know that they are there. We have taken note of extension programs directed toward women (mostly "sewing" programs) and especially those directed toward war widows. It's really a shame that we can't talk with them. Men are very protective of their women and do not allow us to talk with them. Having said that, we do encounter women in professional roles and we have engaged them when and where the opportunity presents itself. We just have to keep in mind that the people in Iraq would not be able to feed themselves if it were not for women's work, not just men's talk.
Anway, I digress a little bit. The main point of this entry, as suggested in the title, is the obvious sexual division of labor. Of course, this is not unique to Iraq. I have just taken notice of it recently. We meet with men, mostly older but also some younger men and boys, and never women. When we meet, we talk, we take notes, we nod our head in understanding. But in the background, out working in the fields, invariably we see women and young girls working, doing the actual farming. We see them transplanting vegetable seedlings, weeding fields, tending sheep, cutting and carrying bulging sacks of alfalfa as fodder for cows and sheep, gathering fallen dates, building cookstoves, and making dung patties. Of course, women are also doing domestic work such as hauling water, cleaning house, doing laundry, and taking care of children. Sadly their voice is not heard in our conversations but we know that they are there. We have taken note of extension programs directed toward women (mostly "sewing" programs) and especially those directed toward war widows. It's really a shame that we can't talk with them. Men are very protective of their women and do not allow us to talk with them. Having said that, we do encounter women in professional roles and we have engaged them when and where the opportunity presents itself. We just have to keep in mind that the people in Iraq would not be able to feed themselves if it were not for women's work, not just men's talk.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Good Days and Bad Days
Today we are in the grip of yet another dust storm. It's getting to be as bad as the one back in early July when I was staying at FOB Kalsu. Visibility is down to less than a half mile, the air is still and heavy, and the sun is completely obscured. The light is a strange orange color. Once outside for awhile, your eyes adjust to make the light seem "normal," but when you come inside, the transition is jarring. It's been getting worse over the last couple of days and in fact caused us to have to cancel an air movement to a town in the northwest corner of the province. I was looking forward to going there because I had seen some large and well-developed fish pond complexes during our helicopter overflight tour. Apparently the area near the big pond complexes is a "no go" zone for us anyway, but there are other smaller farms that we would have been able to visit. Too bad.
We've had mostly good days since coming to Wasit. One of the better days started with a visit to one of three new agricultural extension centers here (altogether, 17 are planned). We arrived early in the morning and found a group of about 25-30 men gathered to greet us. They were farmers, extension agents, and leaders of local agricultural unions. They had arranged plastic chairs in an open rectangle on a lawn shaded by date palms next to the center. Of course, they had us sit at the head and the Iraqis arrayed themselves along the side. The morning was very pleasant, maybe the coolest for that time of day since arriving here. Everyone introduced themselves, with our team leader explaining our mission in Iraq and describing a little bit about Norman Borlaug. Then, much to my surprise, the assembled Iraqis got down to business, talking about upcoming programs to improve fertility and birth rates in the highly regarded local sheep. We were only observers at this point, watching how the extension scientists explained their program to the farmers and agricultural unions. Clearly this is a great model for introducing new ideas and technologies to farmers and it was great to see the Iraqi people working out ways to help each other. The agricultural union leadership is the critical link because these farmers tend to be innovators and can encourage the farmers in their union to adopt improved practices by their own example. The only missing link we see is the participation of the research community, for which there is none in Wasit. It is something we are going to try and elevate to the provincial leadership in our final report.
After leaving the extension center we visited two farms that represent two contrasting forms of agriculture in the country. The first was an extended family farm with diverse crops. There were eight families farming about 120 acres. They had wheat, rice, vegetables, a date palm orchard, fish ponds, sheep, cattle, and turkeys. This farm supported the livlihood of about 160 people. The other farm was about 1800 acres of wheat, barley, and corn that was owned by an Iraqi parlimentarian and managed by his son-in-law. The manager wore western-style dress (unlike the "man-dress" dishdashas worn by the other farmers), was educated in an agricultural high school, and was computer literate. Two contrasting farming operations, both functional models. Good day.
We've had our bad days too. The other day we were scheduled to meet with a local sheikh who has curried favor with the coalition by ridding his area of insurgents. We were also scheduled to meet with a local religious leader who is also seen as a powerful local figure, but one who is apolitical. Our convoy had just left the FOB when we lurched to a halt. A sharp-eyed gunner had spotted wires protruding from a hole on the roadside from which an IED had been previously removed. We had to idle on the road for about an hour before some specialized vehicles arrived to make a way for us to pass around safely. Later, we found out that it was only the wires, no bomb. One of the lieutenants told me that the insurgents sometimes like to build the bomb in stages over several nights. It is thought that these are the same guys who shot four rockets into our base about a week ago, two brothers who are being actively pursued by the Iraqi army and police.
This incident put us off schedule but we kept our appointment with the sheikh anyway, meeting him at a water pump station on the Tigris River. He proceeded to tell us how valuable he was to the improvement of security in the area and how he thought that we should help him by providing him with pumps and motors. Our original schedule had us moving from the pump station back along water supply canals to view his fields of wheat, barley, and vegetables. Instead, we ended up driving a long, long way--almost to Babil Province--past fields and fields of fallow, desolate farmland. We pulled up next to a decrepit pump station on a dry water supply canal. He wanted to show us this place to ask that we provide him with a new diesel engine and water pump so that he could once again irrigate the surrounding fields. The pump station had one mostly disassembled and rusty diesel engine that was partially buried in the ground. Another one was on it's skid, but also partially disassembled and nonfunctional. The pump itself also appeared not to work. It was a kind of ecological succession of pump motors! It was rather off-putting to hear this sheikh continually press the point of trying to get something out of us. We try to tell people that our main mission is assessment, although we have been developing projects to improve the capacity of Iraqi agriculture, especially in developing the necessary human capacity to increase productivity. He really thought he was owed something from us. This may be a legacy of Saddam and how the command economy built a mindset and an expectation that things would flow from the center of power outwards. It will take a generational shift to get past this, although we do see signs of exceptional individuals seizing the opportunities presented by the fall of Saddam to take the initiative and move their personal situation and their country forward. While at this remote spot, the religious leader we were scheduled to meet arrived, along with a member of the Wasit provincial council, wearing a suit and tie in the broiling sun. He said one thing that I thought was very insightful. He said that "We need to focus agricultural development at the village level. After the village level, we should work at the sub-district and then district leve." In other words, a bottom-up, farmer-first approach. In the context of a history of the top-down systems of patronage, this was a striking comment, bordering on revolutionary in my view. He also told me that he had received formal training from the U.S. in mediation and conflict resolution and seemed to take pride in this qualification. I told him as we left that I admired his courage.
As I finish writing this I now realize that what started out as a bad day actually turned out to be quite a good one after all.
We've had mostly good days since coming to Wasit. One of the better days started with a visit to one of three new agricultural extension centers here (altogether, 17 are planned). We arrived early in the morning and found a group of about 25-30 men gathered to greet us. They were farmers, extension agents, and leaders of local agricultural unions. They had arranged plastic chairs in an open rectangle on a lawn shaded by date palms next to the center. Of course, they had us sit at the head and the Iraqis arrayed themselves along the side. The morning was very pleasant, maybe the coolest for that time of day since arriving here. Everyone introduced themselves, with our team leader explaining our mission in Iraq and describing a little bit about Norman Borlaug. Then, much to my surprise, the assembled Iraqis got down to business, talking about upcoming programs to improve fertility and birth rates in the highly regarded local sheep. We were only observers at this point, watching how the extension scientists explained their program to the farmers and agricultural unions. Clearly this is a great model for introducing new ideas and technologies to farmers and it was great to see the Iraqi people working out ways to help each other. The agricultural union leadership is the critical link because these farmers tend to be innovators and can encourage the farmers in their union to adopt improved practices by their own example. The only missing link we see is the participation of the research community, for which there is none in Wasit. It is something we are going to try and elevate to the provincial leadership in our final report.
After leaving the extension center we visited two farms that represent two contrasting forms of agriculture in the country. The first was an extended family farm with diverse crops. There were eight families farming about 120 acres. They had wheat, rice, vegetables, a date palm orchard, fish ponds, sheep, cattle, and turkeys. This farm supported the livlihood of about 160 people. The other farm was about 1800 acres of wheat, barley, and corn that was owned by an Iraqi parlimentarian and managed by his son-in-law. The manager wore western-style dress (unlike the "man-dress" dishdashas worn by the other farmers), was educated in an agricultural high school, and was computer literate. Two contrasting farming operations, both functional models. Good day.
We've had our bad days too. The other day we were scheduled to meet with a local sheikh who has curried favor with the coalition by ridding his area of insurgents. We were also scheduled to meet with a local religious leader who is also seen as a powerful local figure, but one who is apolitical. Our convoy had just left the FOB when we lurched to a halt. A sharp-eyed gunner had spotted wires protruding from a hole on the roadside from which an IED had been previously removed. We had to idle on the road for about an hour before some specialized vehicles arrived to make a way for us to pass around safely. Later, we found out that it was only the wires, no bomb. One of the lieutenants told me that the insurgents sometimes like to build the bomb in stages over several nights. It is thought that these are the same guys who shot four rockets into our base about a week ago, two brothers who are being actively pursued by the Iraqi army and police.
This incident put us off schedule but we kept our appointment with the sheikh anyway, meeting him at a water pump station on the Tigris River. He proceeded to tell us how valuable he was to the improvement of security in the area and how he thought that we should help him by providing him with pumps and motors. Our original schedule had us moving from the pump station back along water supply canals to view his fields of wheat, barley, and vegetables. Instead, we ended up driving a long, long way--almost to Babil Province--past fields and fields of fallow, desolate farmland. We pulled up next to a decrepit pump station on a dry water supply canal. He wanted to show us this place to ask that we provide him with a new diesel engine and water pump so that he could once again irrigate the surrounding fields. The pump station had one mostly disassembled and rusty diesel engine that was partially buried in the ground. Another one was on it's skid, but also partially disassembled and nonfunctional. The pump itself also appeared not to work. It was a kind of ecological succession of pump motors! It was rather off-putting to hear this sheikh continually press the point of trying to get something out of us. We try to tell people that our main mission is assessment, although we have been developing projects to improve the capacity of Iraqi agriculture, especially in developing the necessary human capacity to increase productivity. He really thought he was owed something from us. This may be a legacy of Saddam and how the command economy built a mindset and an expectation that things would flow from the center of power outwards. It will take a generational shift to get past this, although we do see signs of exceptional individuals seizing the opportunities presented by the fall of Saddam to take the initiative and move their personal situation and their country forward. While at this remote spot, the religious leader we were scheduled to meet arrived, along with a member of the Wasit provincial council, wearing a suit and tie in the broiling sun. He said one thing that I thought was very insightful. He said that "We need to focus agricultural development at the village level. After the village level, we should work at the sub-district and then district leve." In other words, a bottom-up, farmer-first approach. In the context of a history of the top-down systems of patronage, this was a striking comment, bordering on revolutionary in my view. He also told me that he had received formal training from the U.S. in mediation and conflict resolution and seemed to take pride in this qualification. I told him as we left that I admired his courage.
As I finish writing this I now realize that what started out as a bad day actually turned out to be quite a good one after all.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
A Glimpse of Fall
The other day, for the first time since coming to Iraq in mid-June, I saw a few wimpy clouds right around daybreak, but they quickly burned off once the sun rose. However, the humidity stayed up and as a result it's been feeling a lot more like a hotter south Louisiana in the summer than the dry desert climate we've experienced up to now. On one of our movements the other day, the soil was wet and sticky, but it had not rained. It was explained that the salt in the soil (salinization is a very serious problem in agriculture here) attracts the moisture from the atmosphere when the air is humid, wetting the soil. Yesterday, around lunchtime, I heard the rumble of thunder and saw lightning strikes over near the airfield. A few drops started to fall, creating small impact craters in the powdered dust. One of my teamates called it "a two-inch rain" because there was two inches between each drop. Last night the wind shifted direction and began to blow strongly from the southeast, whipping the dust into drifts. The wind has now begun to change from the summertime shamal wind, blowing steady out of the northwest, to the autumnal sharqi, from the south and southeast.
Of course, other changes indicate the coming fall, most notably the ripening of dates. There are now huge clusters of blonde and brown sweetness hanging from the date palms. The several I had yesterday were like caramel or butterscotch. Delicious! Farmers are also busy planting wheat in anticipation of winter rains.
We had a really good movement today, visiting a lovely farm in a small rural village. The highlight for me was a beautiful orchard with date palms in the overstory, a midstory with various citrus, including the local sweet lemon, apricots, pomegranates, figs, apples, and pears, and an understory with licorice and grass that is cut and hauled out for sheep. It sure felt like the Garden of Eden.
We've been on a very hectic schedule, with barely enough time to post to this blog, answer emails or type up field notes. This morning, for example, I got up a 4:30 am, met our convoy at 5:15, visited our first site at 7:00 and were back at the FOB for lunch just before the DFAC closed at 2:00 pm. By 9:00 pm I'm wrung out from all the heat and sweating and am ready for bed. And we'll do it all over again tomorrow. We are doing this for a couple of reasons. First, the intense heat is a strain on the team and the army guys who guard us, so we want to move and be out in the coolest part of the day. Second, it is Ramadan and many of the Iraqis we are meeting are fasting during the day, so we want to meet with them in the morning when their energy level is higher. During our helicopter tour earlier in the week, we were accompanied by the DGs for agriculture and for water in the province and they did not drink a thing the entire flight. I was completely drained, even after drinking plenty of water and Gatorade. I have to believe that they were really hurting when it was over, even though they were clearly exhilirated by the opportunity to see their province from the air and to accompany our team.
The work goes on, fall is coming!
Of course, other changes indicate the coming fall, most notably the ripening of dates. There are now huge clusters of blonde and brown sweetness hanging from the date palms. The several I had yesterday were like caramel or butterscotch. Delicious! Farmers are also busy planting wheat in anticipation of winter rains.
We had a really good movement today, visiting a lovely farm in a small rural village. The highlight for me was a beautiful orchard with date palms in the overstory, a midstory with various citrus, including the local sweet lemon, apricots, pomegranates, figs, apples, and pears, and an understory with licorice and grass that is cut and hauled out for sheep. It sure felt like the Garden of Eden.
We've been on a very hectic schedule, with barely enough time to post to this blog, answer emails or type up field notes. This morning, for example, I got up a 4:30 am, met our convoy at 5:15, visited our first site at 7:00 and were back at the FOB for lunch just before the DFAC closed at 2:00 pm. By 9:00 pm I'm wrung out from all the heat and sweating and am ready for bed. And we'll do it all over again tomorrow. We are doing this for a couple of reasons. First, the intense heat is a strain on the team and the army guys who guard us, so we want to move and be out in the coolest part of the day. Second, it is Ramadan and many of the Iraqis we are meeting are fasting during the day, so we want to meet with them in the morning when their energy level is higher. During our helicopter tour earlier in the week, we were accompanied by the DGs for agriculture and for water in the province and they did not drink a thing the entire flight. I was completely drained, even after drinking plenty of water and Gatorade. I have to believe that they were really hurting when it was over, even though they were clearly exhilirated by the opportunity to see their province from the air and to accompany our team.
The work goes on, fall is coming!
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Wasit
It's taken about a week after returning to Iraq before I've had a chance to return to posting, in part because access to the internet at my new location is difficult. I'm writing from a computer terminal in the MWR (morale welfare and recreation) facility at FOB Delta in Wasit Province. The computer commons is a popular place, especially with the many Ugandans here working for Triple Canopy, the company that provides security for the base, and so I'm rubbing elbows with them now as I write this. FOB Delta is located near the town of Al Kut (known to soldiers as "Al-Kutraz"), a place where the Tigris is split into two rivers. The base is a sprawling place that used to be one of Saddam's former airbases, now home to Coalition Forces. With the exception of Camp Victory near Baghdad, I don't think I've seen so many of the coalition partners represented here. Until recently, the base had a very large contingent from Georgia, although now there are only a few remaining because most have been called back to fight their own war. The Georgians have quite an unsavory reputation here, known for thievery, drunkeness, and all manner of disorderly and unbecoming conduct for a professional military. Next in number are probably the Salvadorans. They have their own compound and even have their own PRT. There is a Cuscatlan Blvd on the base. There are also contingents from Kazakhstan, the Ukraine, and Poland, Romania, and recently a contingent of Mongolian soldiers have arrived.
Our team has hit the ground running, thanks in part to Patrick Moore, a USDA employee who works for the local PRT. His team includes two BBAs, "Jimmy" and Kamil, who have been invaluable to getting our team oriented. We have visited some innovative farmers, including an interesting poultry hatchery, and have made our courtesy calls on the Provincial Governor, the Provincial DG for Agriculture, and the Provincial Council. Yesterday we spent most of the day in the air, taking a two-part helicopter tour of the entire province. We saw most of the main agricultural production areas. The irrigation system is very impressive but in many places is in obvious disrepair. There are vast tracts of land that were once supplied with irrigation water that have reverted to desert. There are also large tracts of land with the telltale white crust of land salinization, another serious problem. We also flew up to an area very near the border with Iran, seeing the port-of-entry with lots of trucks coming into Iraq from Iran. To get there we flew over a part of the province that was nothing but miles and miles of nothing but miles and miles, in the words of one of my teamates. It's amazing how much of the agriculture here is confined to a fairly narrow band next to the rivers, but it's also amazing the degree to which an attempt has been made to push the water back from the rivers as far as possible to support agriculture. I also saw some fish ponds yesterday, notably a large facility near the town of Al Sowhera that I hope to visit sometime this month. Near that fish farm we saw a large complex of bombed out buildings that used to be a training academy for Saddam's security services. Even in a bombed out condition, it's an impressive facility, with an Olympic swimming pool, running track, and many other stout multi-story buildings, now destroyed.
I was really drained after the helicopter tour. The heat has been really intense: the other day it was 122 and it's been routinely above 115 every day. I thought when I returned that I would be used to the heat and I thought at first that the heat was not quite as intense and the body armor not quite as heavy, but that was an obvious misperception.
OK....have to go now...they only give us a half-hour on the computer.
Our team has hit the ground running, thanks in part to Patrick Moore, a USDA employee who works for the local PRT. His team includes two BBAs, "Jimmy" and Kamil, who have been invaluable to getting our team oriented. We have visited some innovative farmers, including an interesting poultry hatchery, and have made our courtesy calls on the Provincial Governor, the Provincial DG for Agriculture, and the Provincial Council. Yesterday we spent most of the day in the air, taking a two-part helicopter tour of the entire province. We saw most of the main agricultural production areas. The irrigation system is very impressive but in many places is in obvious disrepair. There are vast tracts of land that were once supplied with irrigation water that have reverted to desert. There are also large tracts of land with the telltale white crust of land salinization, another serious problem. We also flew up to an area very near the border with Iran, seeing the port-of-entry with lots of trucks coming into Iraq from Iran. To get there we flew over a part of the province that was nothing but miles and miles of nothing but miles and miles, in the words of one of my teamates. It's amazing how much of the agriculture here is confined to a fairly narrow band next to the rivers, but it's also amazing the degree to which an attempt has been made to push the water back from the rivers as far as possible to support agriculture. I also saw some fish ponds yesterday, notably a large facility near the town of Al Sowhera that I hope to visit sometime this month. Near that fish farm we saw a large complex of bombed out buildings that used to be a training academy for Saddam's security services. Even in a bombed out condition, it's an impressive facility, with an Olympic swimming pool, running track, and many other stout multi-story buildings, now destroyed.
I was really drained after the helicopter tour. The heat has been really intense: the other day it was 122 and it's been routinely above 115 every day. I thought when I returned that I would be used to the heat and I thought at first that the heat was not quite as intense and the body armor not quite as heavy, but that was an obvious misperception.
OK....have to go now...they only give us a half-hour on the computer.
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