|
August/September 2004
Vol. X, No. 3
Sloan Mann |
Baghdad Diary
Chief of Mission Sloan Mann heads up the Institute's Baghdad office, and from time to time writes informally about his experiences in country. This is from a recent dispatch.
A few days ago, I put together a barbecue for 20 or so Iraqis from four local NGOs at the Institute residence in the Green Zone. I wanted to meet with many of the Iraqis I developed close relationships with last year and reassure them that the international community is still here and still cares. It also gave me an ideal opportunity to catch up on the projects they are involved in and find out what the most pressing issues are on the street. It's my hope that the Institute can address some of their concerns through our civil society development work. Members from the Coalition Provisional Authority and other international organizations were there as well.
The barbecue was a memorable experience. A group of expressive artists were among the attendees. After performing a modern dance routine (complete with an imitation of an albatross and other types of birds), they began singing Iraqi folk songs. They were nearly in tears but radiantly smiling. The combination of being in proximity to the elite Republican Palace and openly expressing themselves was an emotional experience. Under Saddam, public singing and dancing were not allowed, and the song they were singing, about all the good Iraqis who had been killed under Hussein's regime, would have landed them in jail or worse. The only words I recognized were some choice Anglo-Saxon phrases directed at Saddam.
It was moving for me, as an outsider, to watch Iraqis express themselves and cry for joy. I felt lucky to be able to contribute to their happiness, even if at the moment there is only a glimmer of hope for a better future. These small yet meaningful interactions with Iraqi civic activists keep a flicker of optimism alive for me. In a sense, we need each other. On the one hand, the expatriates do not want to believe the daily doom-and-gloom news from media and security sources. We need to see progress and interact with positive Iraqis in order to keep morale up. On the other hand, the Iraqis want to know we still support them, that we will not abandon them when the going gets tough—this encourages them to continue to work and fight for a democratic future. And there's the rub—life is indeed tough for Iraqis right now.
Moderate Iraqis openly working to bring a culture of civic responsibility, democracy, and tolerance to a frightened populace are in danger. Their courage makes me all the angrier when I see sensational stories of the violence and death suffered by expatriates while too often the stories of Iraqis killed or wounded go untold. Good Iraqis are dying on the streets daily. My dear friend Mohammad's niece was shot in the face four times in Najaf by followers of Al-Sadr. Amazingly she survived, minus both eyes. One of our Iraqi staff, Mohammad, has been home for a week with family. His brother Majed was assassinated because of his work with the Iraqi mayor of Baghdad, who was seen as an American stooge. One of the Institute's trainees during our last workshop had to return home prematurely because her father, a member of a local governing council, was assassinated.
Our local staff takes serious risks simply entering and exiting through the frequently targeted Green Zone checkpoints. On two occasions, our Iraqi staff had close calls waiting in line to enter the Green Zone and come to work. The first time, they were 20 meters away from the car bomb that killed the president of the Governing Council (one sustained a minor injury). The second time, two weeks later, random incoming mortars landed 60 meters away from where our staff were waiting in line to enter the Green Zone; thankfully no one was hurt.
Then there are the more mundane things. The shortage of electricity enrages Iraqis—something the insurgents and terrorists use to their advantage to destabilize the country. The electricity supply is still deplorable in Baghdad. One year of occupation has brought Iraqis in Baghdad an average of two–four hours of electricity on, then six–eight hours without. For those who lack the luxury of a generator, life can be nearly unbearable in the sweltering summer heat. Our Iraqi driver looks exhausted everyday because he says he cannot sleep until the air conditioners start around 3:30 a.m. …
For the next event, the Institute is working with Women for Women International and inviting 25 women activists to our residence. Although I look forward to interacting with these courageous women, I fear good news will be hard to come by.
—Baghdad, June 7, 2004
Other Institute Resources:
