Observations on Iraq
Throughout the last six months, I’ve had the opportunity to see the majority of northern Iraq. I’ve traveled through the bigger cities and smaller villages. I’ve been to the borders of nations and inbetween. Through mountains so beautiful it’s hard to remember that you’re in Iraq, through villages so poor that it’s hard to forget. I’ve spoken with mayors, governors, shieks, muktars, soldiers, policemen and people from many different walks of life. I’ve seen villages that were once destroyed by Saddam and I’ve witnessed a new phase of destruction, both by a liberating force and by a struggling anti-Iraqi cause. I’ve been greeted with shouts of joy and with looks of death. And I still have not come up with an all-encompassing band-aid solution to make things all better. How can I blame our leaders who can’t seem to figure it out either? I don’t believe there ever was, is or will be a easy solution to fix Iraq.
Northern Iraq is generally the calmer, quieter side of Iraq. While staying in Irbil, a city north of Mosul, I heard it referred to as the Paris of Iraq. Is it violent here? Of course. I don’t think there is anywhere in this country that is free of violence yet. But there are some places where you can sleep a lot better at night.
When I came to Iraq, I was expecting a vast desert, complete with camels and snakes and dust, lots of dust. In this respect I have been lucky. The dust factor is relatively low in the north and there are a surprising amount of trees and plants that make it seem almost like any other country at first glance.
What I wasn’t prepared for at all was the living conditions in Iraq. I’ve never really taken seriously the plight of poor people. I mean really poor. I tend to judge things by American standards. Even the rich people here, seemed to me at first to be living under conditions unlike anything I’d ever come in contact with back home.
The houses in Iraq vary. Most are made with concrete blocks. Architecture isn’t really a concern for people who just want a roof over their heads. In the small villages, and across the country you can find small huts, sometimes made of mud, with thatched roofs. These are sometimes permanent dwellings or the makeshift shelters of the many displaced people who have lost their homes in past years. Plumbing is non-existent, many people don’t even understand the workings of a simple toilet. Running water is a luxury, but more common in the city. Sewage drains backed up, overflowing onto the streets. Electricity is sporadic, at best.
What amazes me is that, because conditions have been like this for so long, the people have adapted. One man’s trash is another’s treasure…
Villages are spread throughout the country. Tribal connections, traditions and religion govern the lives of the people. In many cases, tribal leaders, sheiks and muktars are a greater force to the people that the government leaders themselves.
I can’t claim to have the people of Iraq figured out. They’re cultural traditions and beliefs cause me more confusion than I can handle. Every gesture, every move I make, I feel is analyzed. I may have to allocate special time and space here to sort out my feelings for the Iraqi people.
This has already ran on for too long and I feel like I haven’t done Iraq justice by going into enough detail about anything. So, I’ll satisfy myself by saying that I will devote my time, as the days progress, to better explaining my views about Iraq.
Note, or rather, Warning: Having never operated a blog before, and confessing no superior computer skills or knowledge, my learning may be slowed or hindered by my inability to figure this thing out. I’ll do my best.
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