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.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
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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