Close Call

Although it has been almost 10 days since Baghdad was hit with a series of car-bomb attacks on Easter Sunday, I have yet to write about it, perhaps because I did not have direct experience with the event at the time. Perhaps I did not want to elevate the magnitude of the event as a way to keep this particular bombing in perspective. Perhaps I did not want those who care about my safety to have additional cause for anxiety.

In any case, it turned out to be a close call all around. We left the compound in Mansour around 11 a.m. A mere 20 minutes later, two car bombs were detonated near the Iranian and German embassies in the area. After the fact I couldn’t help thinking that perhaps we drove right past one of the bombers, he on his mission, we on ours. Much of what I know about the event comes from those who experienced it directly. I’m glad that I did not experience this first hand.

After the first bomb, people in the compound dove for cover. Minutes later the second bomb, much closer, went off, shattering windows and blowing doors out of their frames. Pieces of shrapnel rained down on the compound, including one of the wheels of the car-bomb. One of the expat ag scientists at Inma recovered a piece of the door frame with the seat belt attached, leading to macabre jokes about buckling up before detonating. The shrapnel was mostly pieces of twisted, jagged metal. It’s amazing that new one was hurt in the compound. People in the immediate area of the bombing were not so lucky. Apparently one of the women who cleans houses lost her entire family. One of the guys on the security team told me that the head of a young boy landed at one of the entrances to our compound.

The magnitude of what happened was not driven home until we returned to Baghdad late last week. First, we needed almost an extra hour to get through the increased number of security checkpoints, which snarled traffic. The usual access route to the compound was blocked off completely, requiring us to make a wide, lengthy diversion.

The only comparison I can make to what I found upon returning based on my life experiences is the effects of a hurricane. Most of the glass and shrapnel had been cleaned up, but smaller secondary piles remained on the roadside. Windows and doors that had been blown out were covered by plastic sheeting. Workmen were already busy repairing the damage. Only one building sustained structural damage. I was lucky: there was only one pane of glass broken in my room, primarily because the windows faced away from the source of the blast.

The next morning I came out onto the street to walk down to our office. I saw a group of Iraqis come running down the street, carrying a man who appeared to be unconscious with blood soaking the front of his shirt. The security team sprang into action, grabbing their medic kits. It was a bit chaotic, but they laid the man down and I could see a deep cut across his neck, from ear to throat. They cleaned the rather deep wound and then loaded the man into a taxi for a trip to a nearby hospital. No doubt he’s going to have a noticeable scar there for the rest of his life but he’ll be fine. Apparently he was one of the glass workers and a piece of glass had fallen and sliced his neck. Never a dull moment at the Inma compound.

All week long the sound of hammers, saws, and breaking glass has filled the compound. Slowly but surely most of the almost 1000 broken windows have been replaced. This comes none too soon because Baghdad has been gripped by a gritty cloud of dust that has hung over the city for the last few days. Any room with an open window has become coated with a fine film and my throat has been scratchy.

I continue to be impressed how Iraqis continue to live their lives, striving for normality, in the context of what is clearly senseless violence. If anything, it has made everyone more committed to work hard to take charge of their own affairs. This was also the response to bombings that occurred during the recent elections. These events continue to shake people’s confidence in the army and police and their ability to maintain security. Nonetheless, people strive on.

Almost Babylon

Early last week we received an invitation to the grand opening of the new office of the Iraqi Society of Fish Producers in Al-Hillah. After the ribbon cutting and the speeches, lunch was to be served at a restaurant near the Babylon Ruins. I was excited about the prospect of visiting these famous ruins, having had the chance to visit the Great Ziggurat of Ur in 2008. Opportunities to be a tourist have been extremely rare, mainly because I've had a job to do.

We made yet another visit to the Euphrates Fish Farm, specifically to check the status of the pump station on the Euphrates River, prior to the ceremony. Given the time, we skipped the ceremony in downtown Al-Hillah and opted to proceed directly to the ruins for lunch. When we got there, passing by the palace built on "Saddam Hill," the parking lot was filled with buses and large numbers of mostly teenage boys were milling around. Clearly this is a popular spot for school field trips and the scene was mildly chaotic.

The leader of our security team was trying to find a way for us to get to the restaurant in a secure way. He finally decided that there would be no way for him to have control over our security and advised us to scratch the visit. My heart sank in disappointment. Of course, he probably made the right decision, and I realized how willing I was to risk my safety to see the ruins. I think everything would have been fine but it was not my call to make and it was the security team leader's responsibility to assure our safety.

My disappointment was short-lived because I know by direct experience that the best-laid plans can easily change when working in this kind of an environment. Flexibility and pateience are key attributes to success and happiness for Iraqi and ex-pat alike. I stewed in my juices a little while but then came around when we stopped off at the Middle-East Fisheries Company farm to check on the day's fish spawning and were treated to a "simple" lunch of kebab, roast vegetables, pickles, and bread. Nice.

I'm hoping the day will come when I can return to the Babylon Ruins and walk freely, soaking up the sweep of Mesopotamian history.

Raining Mud

In my previous trips I have come to know Iraq as a desert country. I've been here in the summer, when the heat is brutal and relentless, the major grain crops have been harvested, and everything is dry, dusty, and brown. Since coming here about two weeks ago, the weather has been unsettled, with many cloudy days and a fair amount of blessed rain.

Yesterday was warm and sticky. Around 4:30 in the afternoon, the sky turned red-orange and became very dark. It looked like a dust storm was moving in. Lightning was flashing horizontally in the dust clouds. I was rushing to meet some people in the PRT but got caught out as it started to rain. When the rain dried on my clothes each drop was marked by a brown speck of dust.

It rained on and off for several hours, turning the army base into a muddy mess. The mud sticks to your shoes like any good southern gumbo clay, forming a heavy plate on the soles that gets bigger with every step. I'm going to resist the temptation to make a metaphor of the mud with the last seven years of US involvement here, but it's easy to do.

After seeing the effects of drought over the last couple of years, seeing beautiful fields of green wheat and abundant vegetable crops throughout Babil, I now understand the good mood of the people here. Despite the troubling bombings in the capital and the ongoing uncertainty about forming a new government, life goes on and good work is being done to improve security and people's livlihoods every day. Sadly, as is always the case, only the bad news is reported and the tiny daily incremental changes that improve people's lives here remain unseen and unknown to the wider world.