In the previous blog entry I talked about the lead-up to our presentations and here I’ll describe how things went. First, however, I need to call attention to the death of Norman Borlaug, the father of the Green Revolution and the namesake of the institute at Texas A&M that we’ve been working for in Iraq since last June. Even at 95, he was alert and engaged; he was aware and supportive of our team’s work in Iraq. Last night we had a little ceremony to present some certificates and other mementos, including a replica of the 1970 Nobel Peace Prize medal, that was given to the Deputy Leader of the PRT. Our team leader spoke of Norman and mentioned that he was still alive. Little did we know that he was only hours from passing away. At the ceremony last night we were given US flags that were flown over the PRT a few days ago, on 9/11, a special gift and remembrance of our time here.
OK, rewinding to this past Tuesday, the day of our meeting with the governor. Unfortunately the governor had double-booked our meeting time so we were made to wait. Finally we were escorted through a room into another room and through yet another room before reaching the governor’s office, a true inner sanctum. We recognized a few government agricultural officials and were disappointed, but not unexpectedly so, that more people who we wanted to hear what we had to say weren’t present. After a too-long and rambling “introduction” by the governor, our team leader Mark began our presentation. We had discussed strategy going in and decided to lay out the key message—about collaboration and capacity building—right up front, and then go into detail to build the case. While this is going on, the governor is sitting at his desk, signing papers and passing notes to his minions, clearly giving us only half of his attention at most. At one point he handed our BBA a note saying that we needed to wrap things up. We were less than half-way through! We had not choice but to end. In any case, we gave the governor an Arabic translation of our full presentation, so he had the details in hand. We were also able to secure a commitment from him to follow up on the distribution of some tractors that had been given to a farmer’s association in Um Qasr, but were being held by the municipal authorities. So, it wasn’t a total loss. We were able to get our main points across and realized in hindsight that we should have just focused on the big picture and left the details for others. When we returned to base, we decided to modify the presentation for the next meeting, our agriculture “summit.”
The summit took place two days later, on Thursday, at the airport adjacent to the base. We had about 60 farmers, agricultural association leaders, government agricultural officials, extension agents, university professors, and agri-businessmen, most of the people we’ve met over the last couple of months. The meeting was a big success and our presentation was well-received. It was obvious that this was the first time that all the “players” in agriculture in the province had ever gathered in one room. Perhaps this meeting served as an ice-breaker to raise the comfort level of the participants so that they can deal with each other and engage in meaningful dialogue. We sensed some trepidation on the part of the government officials, fearing that they would be verbally attacked by the farmers. When one sheik, quite a curmudgeon, started ranting about how useless the Ministry of Agriculture is to farmers, the other farmers in the room grumbled, recognizing that it was important to look forward to move ahead. The DG of Agriculture, much to our surprise, stood up and addressed the group forthrightly and a good discussion ensued. The group got the message that any projects funded by the PRT will be for demonstration of best practices and will require groups to work together. We received several phone calls later that day thanking us for organizing the meeting and for the work we’ve done on behalf of the farmers of Basrah. It was very gratifying.
Our final briefing took place yesterday, Saturday, on base to the command and the PRT. We met in a conference room at Division headquarters, outfitted with plush seats and video screens facing every possible direction. The meeting was attended by the commanding general of the division, Brigadier General Lang, who had flown with us in his helicopters when we did our aerial tour of the province. We had good rapport with him during and after that flight and this carried over into our presentation. We also had a full-bird colonel, a handful of lieutenant colonels, some majors, a few NCOs, and various other civilians, some representing the division (all of southern Iraq), others representing the battalion now stationed here, responsible for the province. We were given two hours and we used nearly all of it to lay out, in the first part, the big picture which applies to the larger context of all agriculture in Iraq and, in the second part, the details of our assessment and project recommendations for Basrah in particular. The general interrupted numerous times to ask questions, which were pointed and on the mark. It was a good presentation and the general spoke sincerely of his appreciation of our team’s efforts since June of last year. We were gratified and relieved, but also felt tired from the effort we’ve put in over these last eight weeks.
Today we’ve been tying up loose ends and beginning the process of leave taking. Tomorrow we fly to Jordan. I’m going to take a couple of days of sightseeing before heading back home on Thursday. Once I get back, I’ll write a final entry with some reflections on the overall mission and what it’s meant to me and the people I’ve met along the way of this most fascinating and once-in-a-lifetime journey.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Monday, September 7, 2009
Managing Expectations
Part of the reason I haven’t written an update in awhile is that the central subject of what I had intended to write about—our final presentation to the governor—has been delayed now for the third time. Our original intention in delivering our findings and recommendations to the governor was to include all the agricultural association farmer-leaders and agri-businessmen that we have met during our two months here. First, the governor’s agricultural advisor asked to see a copy of our presentation, presumably to see if there were any unacceptable findings or recommendations. We complied and also sent him a list of names of people we wanted to invite to the presentation. After a couple of days he said that no farmers would be invited to the meeting with the governor, which would only be attended by government people. The reasons for his delaying tactics and agenda were transparent. He was trying to manipulate the process to exclude the farmers and to ensure that any projects that might flow from our recommendations would be run through the government, which is the last thing we are ever going to do because they bring nothing to the table. They perceive that we represent a “gravy train” of big infrastructure projects, but we made it clear from the beginning that our focus was on small demonstration projects and others focused on building capacity of the agricultural associations for self-sufficiency.
As a point of background, when we arrived here we became involved in trying to resolve some problems associated with the distribution of tractors to some farmers associations by the British army, who left here in June. The governor’s ag advisor and the Director General (DG) of Agriculture for the province felt left out of the process (and they were, deliberately so). The tractors were given directly to the ag associations to avoid any potential malfeasance on the part of the government. We were helping to resolve some of the issues around registering the tractors and helping the ag associations develop a process for fair distribution. This is the time of year when tractors need to be in the field to prepare the land for the upcoming growing season. So, this is the backdrop for the govenor’s ag advisor and the DG for Agriculture’s behavior toward us.
On top of the obstructions placed before us by the government ag peoples, a couple of the BBAs (bi-lingual, bi-cultural advisors) on the PRT were advising us not to invite the farmers to the meeting at the governor’s office. They said simply: “You can’t invite uneducated farmers to the governor’s office.” They also said that giving projects to ag associations is like “giving computers to first-graders.” It was amazing the extent to which these guys were trying to promote what has been a dysfunctional government when it comes to helping farmers. They even (half)-joked with us that we should be sure to invite Moqtada al Sadr to the briefing because all the farmers are reputed to be Sadrists. Foolishly I took the bait and said, “So, should people have to pass a political litmus test before they receive the benefit of any projects?” They just twisted the knife further basically saying that I was playing into the hands of the enemy. It was all a bit too much for me because these guys are supposedly on our side and are supposed to be giving principled advice, not directly manipulating the process. It was also clear that they were speaking from a point-of-view that reflected contact primarily with government officials and almost never with the farmers that we have been meeting almost daily.
After finally resolving the issue of the invitation list by essentially capitulating to the requirements of the government ag officials, we had our next date scheduled. The governor was actually here at the PRT for a meeting and we managed to confirm the meeting with him personally. Then, the day before our meeting, we received news that a prominent Shiite politician, Abdul Aziz Al-Hakim, had died while receiving treatment for lung cancer in Tehran. We were told that the plan was to bring his body to Basrah airport, where it would be received by pilgrims and carried on foot to Najaf for burial there. In the absence of the PRT leader and deputy leader, the senior military officer in charge made the command decision to cancel all movements for four days until the situation played out. In the end, Mr. Hakim’s body went first to Baghdad before going to Karbala and then Najaf, never even coming to Basrah. This was a frustrating time for us because we were anxious to meet with the governor and, in any case, we like to get “outside the wire” as much as we can. Our team leader likened us to “thoroughbreds in the barn.” We like to get out and run!
After re-setting the meeting date yet again, we received word that the governor was in Baghdad and would not be available on the date scheduled. We were not too upset this time because we knew that the governor was visiting with Prime Minister Maliki to lobby on behalf of an important water infrastructure project. Iraq has been experiencing a severe drought for the last three years. One of the results has been the intrusion of seawater from the Persian Gulf (here in Iraq known as the Arabian Gulf) into the Shatt al Arab waterway. The Shatt is used as a source of irrigation water, cooling water for power plants and petrochemical factories, and in some places for drinking water. All of these uses have been severely impacted by the increase in salinity of the Shatt. There is a humanitarian crisis with the availability of drinking water for the residents of Fao, at the very end of the Shatt. The problem is complicated because the reasons for the lack of freshwater reaching Basrah are related to transboundary water issues (primarily with Turkey, but also Syria and Iran), the inefficient water use by farmers in Iraq, and the drought. The proposed “solution” is to construct a barrier across the Shatt al Arab at a point south of Basrah city to prevent seawater from moving upstream. The freshwater would be diverted to a canal that would run parallel to the Shatt and empty into the Gulf. That freshwater could be used for domestic supplies, crop irrigation, and industrial cooling water. The governor’s visit to Baghdad was apparently successful because we received word that the prime minister has committed US$1 billion to this barrier/diversion project. This is good news!
Well, the date for the meeting has now been set for tomorrow. In the past, we have given one final presentation, occasionally two. In this case, we are likely going to end up giving three final presentations. The first will be for the governor and government agricultural officials in the province (tomorrow). The second will be for all the agricultural association leaders, agri-businessmen, extension agents, university agricultural scientists, AND government agricultural officials. This will be more of an “agricultural summit” than exclusively a presentation of our findings. The final outbriefing will be for the PRT and the military command, especially because this base is now division headquarters for all of southern Iraq.
Our main message is that the primary way that agriculture can advance and the farmers can improve their situation is for the agricultural associations, government extension agents, and university research scientists to work together on demonstration projects of model farms or best practices. The other message is that farmers should seek ways to develop a capacity for self-sufficiency because the level of support that farmers received before 2003 when the country was isolated will never appear again. The funding for these demonstration projects and organizational capacity building will come from you.
As a point of background, when we arrived here we became involved in trying to resolve some problems associated with the distribution of tractors to some farmers associations by the British army, who left here in June. The governor’s ag advisor and the Director General (DG) of Agriculture for the province felt left out of the process (and they were, deliberately so). The tractors were given directly to the ag associations to avoid any potential malfeasance on the part of the government. We were helping to resolve some of the issues around registering the tractors and helping the ag associations develop a process for fair distribution. This is the time of year when tractors need to be in the field to prepare the land for the upcoming growing season. So, this is the backdrop for the govenor’s ag advisor and the DG for Agriculture’s behavior toward us.
On top of the obstructions placed before us by the government ag peoples, a couple of the BBAs (bi-lingual, bi-cultural advisors) on the PRT were advising us not to invite the farmers to the meeting at the governor’s office. They said simply: “You can’t invite uneducated farmers to the governor’s office.” They also said that giving projects to ag associations is like “giving computers to first-graders.” It was amazing the extent to which these guys were trying to promote what has been a dysfunctional government when it comes to helping farmers. They even (half)-joked with us that we should be sure to invite Moqtada al Sadr to the briefing because all the farmers are reputed to be Sadrists. Foolishly I took the bait and said, “So, should people have to pass a political litmus test before they receive the benefit of any projects?” They just twisted the knife further basically saying that I was playing into the hands of the enemy. It was all a bit too much for me because these guys are supposedly on our side and are supposed to be giving principled advice, not directly manipulating the process. It was also clear that they were speaking from a point-of-view that reflected contact primarily with government officials and almost never with the farmers that we have been meeting almost daily.
After finally resolving the issue of the invitation list by essentially capitulating to the requirements of the government ag officials, we had our next date scheduled. The governor was actually here at the PRT for a meeting and we managed to confirm the meeting with him personally. Then, the day before our meeting, we received news that a prominent Shiite politician, Abdul Aziz Al-Hakim, had died while receiving treatment for lung cancer in Tehran. We were told that the plan was to bring his body to Basrah airport, where it would be received by pilgrims and carried on foot to Najaf for burial there. In the absence of the PRT leader and deputy leader, the senior military officer in charge made the command decision to cancel all movements for four days until the situation played out. In the end, Mr. Hakim’s body went first to Baghdad before going to Karbala and then Najaf, never even coming to Basrah. This was a frustrating time for us because we were anxious to meet with the governor and, in any case, we like to get “outside the wire” as much as we can. Our team leader likened us to “thoroughbreds in the barn.” We like to get out and run!
After re-setting the meeting date yet again, we received word that the governor was in Baghdad and would not be available on the date scheduled. We were not too upset this time because we knew that the governor was visiting with Prime Minister Maliki to lobby on behalf of an important water infrastructure project. Iraq has been experiencing a severe drought for the last three years. One of the results has been the intrusion of seawater from the Persian Gulf (here in Iraq known as the Arabian Gulf) into the Shatt al Arab waterway. The Shatt is used as a source of irrigation water, cooling water for power plants and petrochemical factories, and in some places for drinking water. All of these uses have been severely impacted by the increase in salinity of the Shatt. There is a humanitarian crisis with the availability of drinking water for the residents of Fao, at the very end of the Shatt. The problem is complicated because the reasons for the lack of freshwater reaching Basrah are related to transboundary water issues (primarily with Turkey, but also Syria and Iran), the inefficient water use by farmers in Iraq, and the drought. The proposed “solution” is to construct a barrier across the Shatt al Arab at a point south of Basrah city to prevent seawater from moving upstream. The freshwater would be diverted to a canal that would run parallel to the Shatt and empty into the Gulf. That freshwater could be used for domestic supplies, crop irrigation, and industrial cooling water. The governor’s visit to Baghdad was apparently successful because we received word that the prime minister has committed US$1 billion to this barrier/diversion project. This is good news!
Well, the date for the meeting has now been set for tomorrow. In the past, we have given one final presentation, occasionally two. In this case, we are likely going to end up giving three final presentations. The first will be for the governor and government agricultural officials in the province (tomorrow). The second will be for all the agricultural association leaders, agri-businessmen, extension agents, university agricultural scientists, AND government agricultural officials. This will be more of an “agricultural summit” than exclusively a presentation of our findings. The final outbriefing will be for the PRT and the military command, especially because this base is now division headquarters for all of southern Iraq.
Our main message is that the primary way that agriculture can advance and the farmers can improve their situation is for the agricultural associations, government extension agents, and university research scientists to work together on demonstration projects of model farms or best practices. The other message is that farmers should seek ways to develop a capacity for self-sufficiency because the level of support that farmers received before 2003 when the country was isolated will never appear again. The funding for these demonstration projects and organizational capacity building will come from you.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
How We Roll, Ctd
RIP/TOA. This is the Army acronym for “Relief In Place / Transfer Of Authority.” It is shorthand for the transition process, when one unit comes in to replace another unit that is leaving. The incoming unit assumes the responsibilities of the outgoing unit, but there is a period of overlap when the new group is assisted in finding their bearings, learning how things are, what to do and what not to do. New units are said to be ripping in and old units are said to be ripping out. This week, we’ve fallen victim to a clumsy rip.
We had scheduled an ambitious mission with three stops in the Shatt al Arab district across the waterway from the base and the city. We intended to stop first at Shalamsha, the “port of entry” for goods coming into the province from Iran. We had made arrangements with the Iraqi Army general in charge of the border crossing to meet with him very early in the morning, when most of the deals are made to bring vegetables and fruit across the border.
We set out in our usual convoy of Humvees, meeting an Iraqi Army special forces unit at the front gate. There were a few sergeants from the movement team that we had been rolling with for the last few weeks sitting in with the new team, including one in “my” truck. To get across the waterway, we had to pass through a part of the city that had obviously seen some fierce fighting because it lay in ruins and finding the right way through to the other side was not obvious because of the lack of landmarks. We took several wrong turns, with the entire convoy having to turn around on narrow streets each time. Having been across the waterway a couple of times already, I more or less had a feel of how we needed to go. We were getting close to the bridge but then the lead vehicle veered away and headed toward downtown. I was puzzled but kept my mouth shut, took a deep breath and sighed in frustration. Now we were clearly headed in the wrong direction. I couldn’t figure out why the guys in the old unit hadn’t yanked the leash on the new team. After passing through the heart of downtown, grinding to a halt in heavy traffic, and going down yet another wrong way, I lost my cool. With authority that I did not have, I finally lost patience and yelled at the green lieutenant who was in “my” truck: “Stop right now! I need to talk with my teammates and you guys need to get your f****** act together!!” Amazingly they stopped and had a meeting in the middle of the neighborhood. Out team got together and we decided that it was getting too late to visit the border crossing and we would head to the second scheduled stop.
We finally made it to one of the waterway crossing points, a floating pontoon bridge that was put in place after the first Gulf War in the early ‘90s and not yet replaced with a permanent bridge. It’s narrow and rickety. One of the Humvees hit the side of the bridge during the crossing, gashing the tire. We limped through the crowded urban market area on the other side of the waterway and picked our way to the city outskirts, to a place where there weren’t big crowds and enough open space to set up a perimeter and change the tire. The tire change was actually rather entertaining, despite the frustration all of us were feeling. First, a Humvee tire has about a dozen lug nuts to wrench off, a task complicated by the lack of lubrication on the bolt threads, a characteristic aided by the dry dusty climate. The guys took turns horsing the lug wrench, with even some of the Iraqi Army guys getting in on the work of loosening the stubborn lugs and setting the jacks. We milled around, chatting with the Iraqi Army guys, passing time, trying not to get too worked up by how screwed up the day had become.
After 45 minutes or so, we finally resumed out mission, now late for our second appointment, a return trip to Moosawi’s farm, the place we had visited on my birthday, to discuss the location for a demonstration project we are putting together. Because of our late arrival, the sayed (cleric) and the Director of the Extension Service had left, but we spoke with some of the technical people working on the farm. They prepared a little snack for us, with lassi (yoghurt), bread, cheese, kebabs, dates, fruit, and tea. Very restorative. Definitely the attitude adjustment that I needed.
Our intended third visit was to an agricultural association. We had arranged to meet at a well-known checkpoint. Despite our best explanations to our security team, they went to the wrong place and we failed to meet our contact. At this point, someone made the decision that we needed to return to base. We had made only one of the three scheduled visits!
What a mess! So much went wrong, but s much worse could have happened. We were perhaps lucky not to have gotten ourselves into trouble in the heart of downtown Basra. Certainly that was a case where the presence of the Iraqi Army was or would have been helpful. The Iraqi Army did not lead because their role in these missions is to follow. To me the blame squarely lies with the sergeants from the old unit who are ripping out. They should have been more active in leading the mission and telling the lead vehicle when they were going astray.
The worse part was breaking the appointments we had painstakingly set up with the Iraqi Army general at the border crossing, the director of the extension service, an important cleric-businessman, and the farmer-members of the local agricultural association. My sense is that the Iraqi people are rather unfazed by our breaking these appointments. Life has been so hard here and there has been so much disappointment, especially when it comes to promises made, that putting an additional spoonful of disappointment on that mountain doesn’t amount to much. Nonetheless, that’s not the way we on Team Borlaug like to roll and we have tried our best all along the way not to promise what we can’t deliver and to be honest and realistic in what we can do in partnership with our Iraqi colleagues.
We had scheduled an ambitious mission with three stops in the Shatt al Arab district across the waterway from the base and the city. We intended to stop first at Shalamsha, the “port of entry” for goods coming into the province from Iran. We had made arrangements with the Iraqi Army general in charge of the border crossing to meet with him very early in the morning, when most of the deals are made to bring vegetables and fruit across the border.
We set out in our usual convoy of Humvees, meeting an Iraqi Army special forces unit at the front gate. There were a few sergeants from the movement team that we had been rolling with for the last few weeks sitting in with the new team, including one in “my” truck. To get across the waterway, we had to pass through a part of the city that had obviously seen some fierce fighting because it lay in ruins and finding the right way through to the other side was not obvious because of the lack of landmarks. We took several wrong turns, with the entire convoy having to turn around on narrow streets each time. Having been across the waterway a couple of times already, I more or less had a feel of how we needed to go. We were getting close to the bridge but then the lead vehicle veered away and headed toward downtown. I was puzzled but kept my mouth shut, took a deep breath and sighed in frustration. Now we were clearly headed in the wrong direction. I couldn’t figure out why the guys in the old unit hadn’t yanked the leash on the new team. After passing through the heart of downtown, grinding to a halt in heavy traffic, and going down yet another wrong way, I lost my cool. With authority that I did not have, I finally lost patience and yelled at the green lieutenant who was in “my” truck: “Stop right now! I need to talk with my teammates and you guys need to get your f****** act together!!” Amazingly they stopped and had a meeting in the middle of the neighborhood. Out team got together and we decided that it was getting too late to visit the border crossing and we would head to the second scheduled stop.
We finally made it to one of the waterway crossing points, a floating pontoon bridge that was put in place after the first Gulf War in the early ‘90s and not yet replaced with a permanent bridge. It’s narrow and rickety. One of the Humvees hit the side of the bridge during the crossing, gashing the tire. We limped through the crowded urban market area on the other side of the waterway and picked our way to the city outskirts, to a place where there weren’t big crowds and enough open space to set up a perimeter and change the tire. The tire change was actually rather entertaining, despite the frustration all of us were feeling. First, a Humvee tire has about a dozen lug nuts to wrench off, a task complicated by the lack of lubrication on the bolt threads, a characteristic aided by the dry dusty climate. The guys took turns horsing the lug wrench, with even some of the Iraqi Army guys getting in on the work of loosening the stubborn lugs and setting the jacks. We milled around, chatting with the Iraqi Army guys, passing time, trying not to get too worked up by how screwed up the day had become.
After 45 minutes or so, we finally resumed out mission, now late for our second appointment, a return trip to Moosawi’s farm, the place we had visited on my birthday, to discuss the location for a demonstration project we are putting together. Because of our late arrival, the sayed (cleric) and the Director of the Extension Service had left, but we spoke with some of the technical people working on the farm. They prepared a little snack for us, with lassi (yoghurt), bread, cheese, kebabs, dates, fruit, and tea. Very restorative. Definitely the attitude adjustment that I needed.
Our intended third visit was to an agricultural association. We had arranged to meet at a well-known checkpoint. Despite our best explanations to our security team, they went to the wrong place and we failed to meet our contact. At this point, someone made the decision that we needed to return to base. We had made only one of the three scheduled visits!
What a mess! So much went wrong, but s much worse could have happened. We were perhaps lucky not to have gotten ourselves into trouble in the heart of downtown Basra. Certainly that was a case where the presence of the Iraqi Army was or would have been helpful. The Iraqi Army did not lead because their role in these missions is to follow. To me the blame squarely lies with the sergeants from the old unit who are ripping out. They should have been more active in leading the mission and telling the lead vehicle when they were going astray.
The worse part was breaking the appointments we had painstakingly set up with the Iraqi Army general at the border crossing, the director of the extension service, an important cleric-businessman, and the farmer-members of the local agricultural association. My sense is that the Iraqi people are rather unfazed by our breaking these appointments. Life has been so hard here and there has been so much disappointment, especially when it comes to promises made, that putting an additional spoonful of disappointment on that mountain doesn’t amount to much. Nonetheless, that’s not the way we on Team Borlaug like to roll and we have tried our best all along the way not to promise what we can’t deliver and to be honest and realistic in what we can do in partnership with our Iraqi colleagues.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Rocket Thursdays
I was settling down with a good book last night around 9 PM when I was startled by a loud explosion not too far away. I could feel the thump viscerally, like loud bass music, and the walls in my room rattled briefly, sending down a light shower of dust. Then, over the loudspeakers outside: “Incoming, incoming, incoming.” A few seconds later, the second rocket made impact, this time a bit farther away. The announcement then came for soldiers to don their body armor, for everyone to move to a hardened location, and for all nonessential movements to cease. My room is safe and secure, so I simply stayed put. After about an hour of periodic announcements about the ongoing threat level, the all clear was given. The incident was over.
For some odd reason, these recent rocket attacks seem to fall on Thursdays. I wrote in an earlier blog entry about the three soldiers who were killed in a rocket attack on the Thursday night before the Friday morning we arrived. There was another rocket attack the Thursday before last. And then the latest one last night. We’ve been speculating that, because Friday is the Muslim holy day, Thursday night might be like Saturday night to insurgents, equivalent to rowdy teenagers putting M80s in mailboxes and otherwise getting into weekend trouble.
I find these rocket attacks (or IDF, indirect fire, as it is described by the Army) to be not much more than a pesky annoyance. Last year, we experienced IDF when I was staying on bases in Wasit and Maysan, but it was a rare occurrence. Including the attack that occurred just before arriving here, this makes three events on this base alone since coming here. We’ve been told that the Iraqi Army has “rolled up” some of what the military calls “high-value targets” who are said to be responsible for these recent events, so I suppose we can take some solace from this.
I can rationalize the effect of IDF to my wakeful, conscious self and objectively conclude that such attacks represent a nominally small threat to my safety and well-being. They most assuredly do not induce fear or terror. However, the convictions of my unconscious self are less clear and firm. My sleep was fitful, almost feverish, last night, with a long dream that seemed never to reach resolution. In the dream, we were told that all civilians had to leave the base as a result of the rocket attack. I was very unhappy about a decision I believed to be drastic, unreasonable, and not at all commensurate with the nature of the attack. All of us complained to anyone who would listen that we didn’t want to leave. We were gathered to go, milling around with our bags packed, moving from one building to another, continuing to register our complaints, but never actually leaving. Perhaps my unconscious self was saying that I should get out of harms way, but this ran into conflict with my resolve to stay and my idealistic notions of trying to make some small difference here.
The bottom line is that I continue to stay safe. Job one.
For some odd reason, these recent rocket attacks seem to fall on Thursdays. I wrote in an earlier blog entry about the three soldiers who were killed in a rocket attack on the Thursday night before the Friday morning we arrived. There was another rocket attack the Thursday before last. And then the latest one last night. We’ve been speculating that, because Friday is the Muslim holy day, Thursday night might be like Saturday night to insurgents, equivalent to rowdy teenagers putting M80s in mailboxes and otherwise getting into weekend trouble.
I find these rocket attacks (or IDF, indirect fire, as it is described by the Army) to be not much more than a pesky annoyance. Last year, we experienced IDF when I was staying on bases in Wasit and Maysan, but it was a rare occurrence. Including the attack that occurred just before arriving here, this makes three events on this base alone since coming here. We’ve been told that the Iraqi Army has “rolled up” some of what the military calls “high-value targets” who are said to be responsible for these recent events, so I suppose we can take some solace from this.
I can rationalize the effect of IDF to my wakeful, conscious self and objectively conclude that such attacks represent a nominally small threat to my safety and well-being. They most assuredly do not induce fear or terror. However, the convictions of my unconscious self are less clear and firm. My sleep was fitful, almost feverish, last night, with a long dream that seemed never to reach resolution. In the dream, we were told that all civilians had to leave the base as a result of the rocket attack. I was very unhappy about a decision I believed to be drastic, unreasonable, and not at all commensurate with the nature of the attack. All of us complained to anyone who would listen that we didn’t want to leave. We were gathered to go, milling around with our bags packed, moving from one building to another, continuing to register our complaints, but never actually leaving. Perhaps my unconscious self was saying that I should get out of harms way, but this ran into conflict with my resolve to stay and my idealistic notions of trying to make some small difference here.
The bottom line is that I continue to stay safe. Job one.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Masqouf
Great article in today's NY Times Dining and Wine section on masqouf, the traditional roasted carp dish of Iraq. I've had occasion to eat this several times when lunches were graciously provided by our Iraqi hosts. While carp is not my most favorite fish to eat, slow roasting on an open fire gives it a nice smoky flavor.
On the second page of the on-line version of the story, there is a paragraph about the import of carp fingerlings from Hungary. Credit for the project was rightly attributed to the Inma Agribusiness Program, specifically my colleague Duane Stone. Not to blow my horn too loudly here, but I was the one to initiate the project at the suggestion of an Iraqi colleague, Dr. Khalil Saleh. Duane saw the project through to completion following my departure from Iraq last year. Credit also goes to Akos Horvath in Hungary, who helped arrange for the fish on that end.
Be sure to check out the pictures.
On the second page of the on-line version of the story, there is a paragraph about the import of carp fingerlings from Hungary. Credit for the project was rightly attributed to the Inma Agribusiness Program, specifically my colleague Duane Stone. Not to blow my horn too loudly here, but I was the one to initiate the project at the suggestion of an Iraqi colleague, Dr. Khalil Saleh. Duane saw the project through to completion following my departure from Iraq last year. Credit also goes to Akos Horvath in Hungary, who helped arrange for the fish on that end.
Be sure to check out the pictures.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
How We Roll
When I was here last year, moving around was very straightforward. We simply mounted up and moved out. Last June, in Babil Province, the U.S. Army was in control of “the battle-space” and the military moved wherever and whenever it wanted. It made moving around quite easy, although arguably more perilous. When we moved to Najaf Province last July, our movements were slightly more restricted. Najaf, and other provinces where we subsequently worked, was a so-called PIC province, or “province in Iraqi control.” That meant that the Army had to call up the Iraqi’s to tell them where and when we were going. There were certain no-go zones, such as the area around the holy shrines in downtown Najaf, but for the most part there were few impediments to movement.
I knew that things would be different this year. Between my leaving Iraq last November and the end of June this year the situation has changed markedly. With the new Status of Forces Agreement in place, most troops have now withdrawn from the cities and are now concentrated on fewer but larger bases on urban outskirts. As of the end of June, the Iraqi Army and Iraqi Police have taken control of security for the country. This is as it should be, but it’s made moving around a bit more difficult.
Now, when we go out on a mission, our convoy of Humvees goes to the main gate of the base to link up, inshallah, with a platoon of Iraqi Army soldiers in their Humvees. Then, if all goes well, the blended convoy moves out, with alternating Iraqi and U.S. Army Humvees rolling down the road. Since coming here, the Iraqi Army has showed up most but not every time. If they are not at the main gate, we will wait, but if we are not going through Basra city, we won’t wait long. If we are going through the city, we have to wait.
Some of the Iraqi Army units look pretty capable; others less so. To describe what they wear as a “uniform” is a bit of a stretch. There are all sorts of desert cammo in use. Some guys wear helmets and body armor, others wear red berets cocked at odd angles and no other protection. They are friendly enough and the rapport between the U.S. Army “green-suiters” and the IA is good. However, there is definitely a stark contrast in professionalism between the two forces. I keep saying to any of my stateside friends that we should be proud of the professionalism our young men and women service personnel. The lack of discipline and the loosey-goosey way of doing business by the IA (let alone the endemic corruption) couldn’t be more different. (By the way, on a related point, I find it difficult to disagree with a lot of what is said by Colonel Reese of the U.S. Army here.)
The other day we made a visit to Basra University, which has well-established programs in agriculture, veterinary science, fisheries, and marine science. Bringing the U.S. Army onto any university campus in Iraq is problematic. Last fall, we had to scrub a planned trip to Qadasiya University in Diwaniya because the U.S. Army was not allowed to be there for our security. The plan for the Basra University visit was for us to drive to the main gate, where we would be met by a mini-bus that would be accompanied by Iraqi Army troops for security. A small group of U.S. Army troops carrying only side-arms would be there too. When we got to the gate, there was no mini-bus, something that was supposed to have been arranged by the Iraqi Army. After sitting in our convoy for another half-hour, the mini-bus finally arrived and we loaded up. The leader of the Iraqi Army unit was unwilling to have the American troops with us and insisted that they be disarmed. One of the translators accompanying us called General Aziz, the commanding Iraqi Army general in the area, whose phone number he had stored on his cell phone, and passed the phone to the Iraqi Army platoon leader. After a short conversation we were allowed to proceed. The American soldiers hid their pistols inside their body armor so, when the IA platoon leader came on to the mini-bus to check out the American soldiers, they would not appeared armed. The American lieutenant with us said, “See, we’re only carrying radios.” After this delay, our visit proceeded without problem or incident. It probably helped matters that the university is out of session for the summer and there were only a few students on campus.
I’m not saying the new situation is excessively difficult. It’s just different, occasionally frustrating and frequently amusing. I knew when I was here last year that I was in Iraq during a unique window of opportunity. It was a time when the country was becoming increasingly stable but the U.S. Army could move around with ease, enabling our work. Now, the Iraqi’s have finally taken responsibility for their own security and we are guests (perhaps unwanted, but most definitely guests) of our Iraqi hosts, so we have to roll by their rules.
I knew that things would be different this year. Between my leaving Iraq last November and the end of June this year the situation has changed markedly. With the new Status of Forces Agreement in place, most troops have now withdrawn from the cities and are now concentrated on fewer but larger bases on urban outskirts. As of the end of June, the Iraqi Army and Iraqi Police have taken control of security for the country. This is as it should be, but it’s made moving around a bit more difficult.
Now, when we go out on a mission, our convoy of Humvees goes to the main gate of the base to link up, inshallah, with a platoon of Iraqi Army soldiers in their Humvees. Then, if all goes well, the blended convoy moves out, with alternating Iraqi and U.S. Army Humvees rolling down the road. Since coming here, the Iraqi Army has showed up most but not every time. If they are not at the main gate, we will wait, but if we are not going through Basra city, we won’t wait long. If we are going through the city, we have to wait.
Some of the Iraqi Army units look pretty capable; others less so. To describe what they wear as a “uniform” is a bit of a stretch. There are all sorts of desert cammo in use. Some guys wear helmets and body armor, others wear red berets cocked at odd angles and no other protection. They are friendly enough and the rapport between the U.S. Army “green-suiters” and the IA is good. However, there is definitely a stark contrast in professionalism between the two forces. I keep saying to any of my stateside friends that we should be proud of the professionalism our young men and women service personnel. The lack of discipline and the loosey-goosey way of doing business by the IA (let alone the endemic corruption) couldn’t be more different. (By the way, on a related point, I find it difficult to disagree with a lot of what is said by Colonel Reese of the U.S. Army here.)
The other day we made a visit to Basra University, which has well-established programs in agriculture, veterinary science, fisheries, and marine science. Bringing the U.S. Army onto any university campus in Iraq is problematic. Last fall, we had to scrub a planned trip to Qadasiya University in Diwaniya because the U.S. Army was not allowed to be there for our security. The plan for the Basra University visit was for us to drive to the main gate, where we would be met by a mini-bus that would be accompanied by Iraqi Army troops for security. A small group of U.S. Army troops carrying only side-arms would be there too. When we got to the gate, there was no mini-bus, something that was supposed to have been arranged by the Iraqi Army. After sitting in our convoy for another half-hour, the mini-bus finally arrived and we loaded up. The leader of the Iraqi Army unit was unwilling to have the American troops with us and insisted that they be disarmed. One of the translators accompanying us called General Aziz, the commanding Iraqi Army general in the area, whose phone number he had stored on his cell phone, and passed the phone to the Iraqi Army platoon leader. After a short conversation we were allowed to proceed. The American soldiers hid their pistols inside their body armor so, when the IA platoon leader came on to the mini-bus to check out the American soldiers, they would not appeared armed. The American lieutenant with us said, “See, we’re only carrying radios.” After this delay, our visit proceeded without problem or incident. It probably helped matters that the university is out of session for the summer and there were only a few students on campus.
I’m not saying the new situation is excessively difficult. It’s just different, occasionally frustrating and frequently amusing. I knew when I was here last year that I was in Iraq during a unique window of opportunity. It was a time when the country was becoming increasingly stable but the U.S. Army could move around with ease, enabling our work. Now, the Iraqi’s have finally taken responsibility for their own security and we are guests (perhaps unwanted, but most definitely guests) of our Iraqi hosts, so we have to roll by their rules.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Birthday in Basra
My 50th birthday last year was a noteworthy one and I wanted to mark the occasion by celebrating with family and friends. This year it was not a big deal so I didn’t mind being here. Nonetheless my birthday turned out to be one of the best days I’ve had in Iraq, including the time I was here last year; the day turned out to be something special.
We were scheduled to meet our host for the day, Sayed Al-Moosawi, at his farmhouse for breakfast. Our team has had many occasions to enjoy sumptuous mid-day feasts but this was the first time I had the opportunity to experience an Iraqi breakfast. After customary greetings and handshakes all around, we were led to a table laid out with food, set in the shade outside the farmhouse. The table was set with platters of flatbread, different soft white cheeses, hard-boiled eggs, black olives, walnuts, tomato and cucumber, mixed greens, jam, hot milk, and tea. We sat and ate and talked and swatted flies. Very relaxing.
Our host is a very interesting, influential, and obviously powerful man. I have met many sheiks in Iraq but this was the first time that I had occasion to meet a cleric. He had an appearance that many Americans would consider stereotypical: bearded with glasses, rather portly, wearing a black turban, a collarless white shirt buttoned to his neck, with a long flowing gray robe that he would gather around him, and matching gray shoes. Clerics, of course, are religious leaders, but Mr. Moosawi is so much more than this. He is also a very successful businessman, with interests in a private hospital, oil services, telecommunications, trading, transportation, and security services among many others.
As we soon learned, he is also an innovator with respect to agriculture. The innovations we saw that day included large sprinkler irrigation systems, tissue culture of dates, artificial insemination of cattle using cryopreserved sperm, drip irrigation of date trees, and using manufactured feed in his fish ponds. He owns a date factory. He has emus and Thompson’s gazelles. He owns a couple of beautiful Arabian horses.
I was so impressed with his hospitality and his leadership that I let slip at breakfast that this day was my birthday and that I was very happy to be spending this day with him. He was very excited to be hosting me on my birthday. After spending about an hour at his fish ponds, we climbed back into the Humvee’s for a drive to the next stop, a riverboat moored in the Shatt al-Arab waterway right in downtown Basra. It is Mr. Moosawi’s intention to use this boat to offer two-hour river cruises. We sat in an air-conditioned lounge on the top deck for a mid-morning snack of soft drinks, fruit, dates, and cappuccinos prepared at the snack bar on board. Life is good!
Our next stop was the tissue culture laboratory and date factory. The date factory was not very busy because this is the slow time of year. During the height of the season, the factory employs about 60 people, nearly all women, some of whom are war widows, others with some disability. This was another characteristic of our host that emerged as a theme: social responsibility. Like many of the sheiks we have met, Mr. Moosawi acknowledges that true leadership means being generous and compassionate. He provides not only religious leadership but also provides for the material welfare of the people who follow him. He was very explicit in saying this.
After our tour of the date factory it was time for lunch. Once again, an elaborate feast was prepared in our honor. There was the usual huge platter of aromatic rice with lamb, but there were also several kinds of wonderfully prepared fish, including pomfret and some kind of sea bream. I’ve become a big fan of Iraqi pickles. My favorites at this meal were the pickled eggplant stuffed with walnuts and the mango with chiles. There were a couple of soups, including a sublime okra and tomato soup. We ate all this at a long table set in the shade outside with fans serving only to push the hot air around. After eating our fill and continuing our conversations, Mr. Moosawi invited us inside to the relief of his air-conditioned office. Tea was ordered and then a large cake was brought into the room. Apparently after I mentioned my birthday to him in the morning, he had sent for a cake! Mr. Moosawi himself took a small knife and trimmed some of a red frosting rose on the cake and painted the number “51” on the white frosting. I was extremely moved. Of course at this point I was filled to bursting, as we had seemingly been eating all day, so I could only eat a token piece of cake.
You may be trying to read between the lines and ask “What is he after?” or “What is he trying to get out of you?” These are fair questions and I’m not sure I know the answer but I have no doubt that his friendliness and generosity are genuine. I think he is cultivating his friendships, especially with the lieutenant colonel who has been accompanying us on our missions and who is in a position to make strategic investments that may benefit Mr. Moosawi. But we look at people like Mr. Moosawi as being in a position to influence other farmers to adopt new technologies and practices, which can make better use of increasingly precious resources like water. Thus, investing in projects with Mr. Moosawi, especially simple, low-cost field demonstrations, can accelerate the diffusion of innovations to other farmers because Mr. Moosawi has their respect. These have the potential to increase agricultural output and raise the standard of living for the many Iraqis who continue to struggle to better their lives.
We were scheduled to meet our host for the day, Sayed Al-Moosawi, at his farmhouse for breakfast. Our team has had many occasions to enjoy sumptuous mid-day feasts but this was the first time I had the opportunity to experience an Iraqi breakfast. After customary greetings and handshakes all around, we were led to a table laid out with food, set in the shade outside the farmhouse. The table was set with platters of flatbread, different soft white cheeses, hard-boiled eggs, black olives, walnuts, tomato and cucumber, mixed greens, jam, hot milk, and tea. We sat and ate and talked and swatted flies. Very relaxing.
Our host is a very interesting, influential, and obviously powerful man. I have met many sheiks in Iraq but this was the first time that I had occasion to meet a cleric. He had an appearance that many Americans would consider stereotypical: bearded with glasses, rather portly, wearing a black turban, a collarless white shirt buttoned to his neck, with a long flowing gray robe that he would gather around him, and matching gray shoes. Clerics, of course, are religious leaders, but Mr. Moosawi is so much more than this. He is also a very successful businessman, with interests in a private hospital, oil services, telecommunications, trading, transportation, and security services among many others.
As we soon learned, he is also an innovator with respect to agriculture. The innovations we saw that day included large sprinkler irrigation systems, tissue culture of dates, artificial insemination of cattle using cryopreserved sperm, drip irrigation of date trees, and using manufactured feed in his fish ponds. He owns a date factory. He has emus and Thompson’s gazelles. He owns a couple of beautiful Arabian horses.
I was so impressed with his hospitality and his leadership that I let slip at breakfast that this day was my birthday and that I was very happy to be spending this day with him. He was very excited to be hosting me on my birthday. After spending about an hour at his fish ponds, we climbed back into the Humvee’s for a drive to the next stop, a riverboat moored in the Shatt al-Arab waterway right in downtown Basra. It is Mr. Moosawi’s intention to use this boat to offer two-hour river cruises. We sat in an air-conditioned lounge on the top deck for a mid-morning snack of soft drinks, fruit, dates, and cappuccinos prepared at the snack bar on board. Life is good!
Our next stop was the tissue culture laboratory and date factory. The date factory was not very busy because this is the slow time of year. During the height of the season, the factory employs about 60 people, nearly all women, some of whom are war widows, others with some disability. This was another characteristic of our host that emerged as a theme: social responsibility. Like many of the sheiks we have met, Mr. Moosawi acknowledges that true leadership means being generous and compassionate. He provides not only religious leadership but also provides for the material welfare of the people who follow him. He was very explicit in saying this.
After our tour of the date factory it was time for lunch. Once again, an elaborate feast was prepared in our honor. There was the usual huge platter of aromatic rice with lamb, but there were also several kinds of wonderfully prepared fish, including pomfret and some kind of sea bream. I’ve become a big fan of Iraqi pickles. My favorites at this meal were the pickled eggplant stuffed with walnuts and the mango with chiles. There were a couple of soups, including a sublime okra and tomato soup. We ate all this at a long table set in the shade outside with fans serving only to push the hot air around. After eating our fill and continuing our conversations, Mr. Moosawi invited us inside to the relief of his air-conditioned office. Tea was ordered and then a large cake was brought into the room. Apparently after I mentioned my birthday to him in the morning, he had sent for a cake! Mr. Moosawi himself took a small knife and trimmed some of a red frosting rose on the cake and painted the number “51” on the white frosting. I was extremely moved. Of course at this point I was filled to bursting, as we had seemingly been eating all day, so I could only eat a token piece of cake.
You may be trying to read between the lines and ask “What is he after?” or “What is he trying to get out of you?” These are fair questions and I’m not sure I know the answer but I have no doubt that his friendliness and generosity are genuine. I think he is cultivating his friendships, especially with the lieutenant colonel who has been accompanying us on our missions and who is in a position to make strategic investments that may benefit Mr. Moosawi. But we look at people like Mr. Moosawi as being in a position to influence other farmers to adopt new technologies and practices, which can make better use of increasingly precious resources like water. Thus, investing in projects with Mr. Moosawi, especially simple, low-cost field demonstrations, can accelerate the diffusion of innovations to other farmers because Mr. Moosawi has their respect. These have the potential to increase agricultural output and raise the standard of living for the many Iraqis who continue to struggle to better their lives.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Basra – Settling In
We’ve been here for five days now and finally tomorrow we will have our first excursion outside the wire. We flew here through Amman, Jordan, spending the night in the “transit hotel” near the airport. The approach into Amman was beautiful, flying right over Tel Aviv, getting a tremendous view of the sweep of the Mediterranean coast of Israel, taking in nearly the entire country in one view. Then we passed over the northern end of the Dead Sea before landing in Amman. Very comfortable temps there, especially compared to Basra, where it’s been 110 every day.
After a night in Amman, we flew directly into Basra, passing over the remote western deserts of Anbar Province, Lake Razzaza near Karbala, and then an unmistakably familiar landmark, the Euphrates Fish Farm, then Diwaniya, Wasit, Maysan, and Dhi Qar provinces, all places I came to know last year. Upon arrival at the Basra airport, we were greeted at the door of the terminal by masked and gloved medical technicians screening passengers for swine flu. The ear of each passenger was probed by a thermometer to check for fever. Then, with some amusing confusion, we passed through immigration. For the first of my three trips to Iraq over the last year, I have officially entered the country, with a stamp in my passport to prove it. When we emerged into the main hall of the airport, seemingly spooked by our arrival, a group of fifty or so Shia women, probably pilgrims on their way to Baghdad, suddenly rose from their seats and moved off like a flock of birds, their head-to-toe black abayas flowing as they went. We walked with the Army lieutenant who met us and passed a Shiite cleric sipping tea with his retinue and giving us a wary glance as we passed by.
We drove to the base, which is immediately adjacent to the airport. The base, recently “inherited” from the British, is really a collection of smaller compounds that are scattered across the sand. We are staying at the PRT compound. Nobody says Provincial Reconstruction Team; everyone says “pee-are-tee.” Every province has one. It’s the U.S. State Department entity that works on nation building. The focus of this unit is rule of law, governance, economics, and essential service. We are working with the economics team. The PRT is a combination of civilian and military people.
Our compound, especially our living quarters, is quite comfortable, with everything within a very short walk. The biggest surprise is the accommodations. I have a private “room,” which is half of a shipping container that has been modified for living. The biggest surprise is that it is “wet,” with a toilet and shower. It also has a TV (that includes Al Jazeera along with Fox News, CNN, BBC, and a number of entertainment channels from Dubai and Qatar). Five star digs!!! For security purposes, there’s another shipping container stacked on top, with four inches of concrete poured into the bottom, so I feel safe. The compound also a recreation center with all the exercise machines and free weights anyone could want to work out.
There’s a small DFAC (dining facility) run by KBR. The demographics of the DFAC are illustrative. The main observation is that there are probably three or four support personnel, mostly private contractors, for every individual working for the PRT. There are the KBR workers, including Bosnians, African-Americans, and working-class white Americans. There are the private security contractors, mostly former soldiers, who take PRT personnel out on movements in their armored SUVs. There are the Ugandan guards who work for Triple Canopy and provide security for our compound. Finally there are a smattering of service personnel, most working directly with the PRT in varying capacities. Interesting group all in all.
My fellow teammate and I have spent the last several days struggling to get past the jet lag, acclimating to the heat, and planning our course of action. The deputy leader of the PRT, a lieutenant colonel, has been very helpful and plans to accompany us on our movements. I’m optimistic that we will be able to accomplish a focused assessment fairly quickly and then move into developing projects that can be managed by the PRT once we depart. We’re off to a good start.
I’m going to end this post on a rather somber note. On the Thursday night before the Friday morning we arrived here, mortars were fired on the base, killing three young soldiers. (You can read about it here). These random attacks are never specifically targeted, but occasionally they find their mark. I was saddened (and more than a little angry at the bad guys) to arrive to this news, but it has only strengthened my resolve to do the best I can to improve the situation on the ground so that such events will become vanishingly rare.
After a night in Amman, we flew directly into Basra, passing over the remote western deserts of Anbar Province, Lake Razzaza near Karbala, and then an unmistakably familiar landmark, the Euphrates Fish Farm, then Diwaniya, Wasit, Maysan, and Dhi Qar provinces, all places I came to know last year. Upon arrival at the Basra airport, we were greeted at the door of the terminal by masked and gloved medical technicians screening passengers for swine flu. The ear of each passenger was probed by a thermometer to check for fever. Then, with some amusing confusion, we passed through immigration. For the first of my three trips to Iraq over the last year, I have officially entered the country, with a stamp in my passport to prove it. When we emerged into the main hall of the airport, seemingly spooked by our arrival, a group of fifty or so Shia women, probably pilgrims on their way to Baghdad, suddenly rose from their seats and moved off like a flock of birds, their head-to-toe black abayas flowing as they went. We walked with the Army lieutenant who met us and passed a Shiite cleric sipping tea with his retinue and giving us a wary glance as we passed by.
We drove to the base, which is immediately adjacent to the airport. The base, recently “inherited” from the British, is really a collection of smaller compounds that are scattered across the sand. We are staying at the PRT compound. Nobody says Provincial Reconstruction Team; everyone says “pee-are-tee.” Every province has one. It’s the U.S. State Department entity that works on nation building. The focus of this unit is rule of law, governance, economics, and essential service. We are working with the economics team. The PRT is a combination of civilian and military people.
Our compound, especially our living quarters, is quite comfortable, with everything within a very short walk. The biggest surprise is the accommodations. I have a private “room,” which is half of a shipping container that has been modified for living. The biggest surprise is that it is “wet,” with a toilet and shower. It also has a TV (that includes Al Jazeera along with Fox News, CNN, BBC, and a number of entertainment channels from Dubai and Qatar). Five star digs!!! For security purposes, there’s another shipping container stacked on top, with four inches of concrete poured into the bottom, so I feel safe. The compound also a recreation center with all the exercise machines and free weights anyone could want to work out.
There’s a small DFAC (dining facility) run by KBR. The demographics of the DFAC are illustrative. The main observation is that there are probably three or four support personnel, mostly private contractors, for every individual working for the PRT. There are the KBR workers, including Bosnians, African-Americans, and working-class white Americans. There are the private security contractors, mostly former soldiers, who take PRT personnel out on movements in their armored SUVs. There are the Ugandan guards who work for Triple Canopy and provide security for our compound. Finally there are a smattering of service personnel, most working directly with the PRT in varying capacities. Interesting group all in all.
My fellow teammate and I have spent the last several days struggling to get past the jet lag, acclimating to the heat, and planning our course of action. The deputy leader of the PRT, a lieutenant colonel, has been very helpful and plans to accompany us on our movements. I’m optimistic that we will be able to accomplish a focused assessment fairly quickly and then move into developing projects that can be managed by the PRT once we depart. We’re off to a good start.
I’m going to end this post on a rather somber note. On the Thursday night before the Friday morning we arrived here, mortars were fired on the base, killing three young soldiers. (You can read about it here). These random attacks are never specifically targeted, but occasionally they find their mark. I was saddened (and more than a little angry at the bad guys) to arrive to this news, but it has only strengthened my resolve to do the best I can to improve the situation on the ground so that such events will become vanishingly rare.
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