By Cathy Breen
Voices in the Wilderness
Baghdad
Dear Friends,

It’s hard to believe that a full week has gone by since our group of four arrived in Baghdad, raising Voice’s numbers in Iraq to eight. As I lie on the roof (so much cooler than inside) gazing up at the stars or watching the sun come up over the city, I sometimes wonder if I am dreaming. Gunshots in the night, however, and the sounds of helicopters overhead and periodic tanks roaring down the road help to remind me of where I am. In terms of the many visits with Iraqi friends, conversations and stories too numerous to relate, events in the house and in the country, New York city seems like another lifetime.

Tomorrow Ed, Kathy, John and I plan to go south to Basrah for a couple of days. Here the heat is blessedly dry, but in Basrah we will be hit with the humidity, something I’d rather not think about. Before we depart, I am hoping today to get something more off to you all. Caoimhe, Ewa and Michael will head to Hilla where tomorrow there is to be an official ceremony to turn over power to the Polish troops there. They represent the 3rd largest contingent of foreign troops in the land, 2,500, I believe. Ewa, who is Polish/British herself, is especially knowledgeable about that country’s own history of occupation. It is because of her presence among us that some are going to Hilla to do some sort of symbolic action at the ceremony to raise awareness that a formerly occupied country is now occupying Iraq.

That a new chapter has begun in Iraq’s history since the occupation is clear. To date it is a sad chapter indeed. The vicious attack on the U.N. and subsequent assassination of Sayyid Mohammed Bakr Al Hakiim in Najaf, both in massively crowded areas, only compound the already tense atmosphere.

Those of us who arrived a week ago feel very much like newcomers, and we are testing the waters as we listen and question, trying to get a sense and a picture of how things are now. Without exception everyone here is concerned about their safety and the safety of their families. The lack of personal security is foremost in everyone’s mind. Not a day goes by where we don’t run into or hear of someone who has been robbed or their home looted, or have witnessed a shooting or a murder. Carjackingings seem to be on the rise. Just two days ago a much loved and trusted young man here in the house, Haythem, received the tragic news that his cousin was killed when his car was stolen. He leaves a wife and children behind. Yesterday at the home of a family I visited, I listened to the sad story of their uncle’s death as a result of his car having been stolen, and this was a very modest neighborhood. He leaves a wife and three daughters to mourn him. Everyone feels that they are in danger. And people are at a loss as to what to do. We heard from a trusted friend that a man who’d committed a robbery and murdered a young father in his home, had been apprehended by Iraqis and identified by the family, only to have been released later by Coalition authorities. He is now out on the streets again.

Sadly two young people on different occasions told me that for the first time they are thinking of leaving the country. One is a young woman, Hind, who works at the photocopy shop around the corner from us. She’d been interviewed recently by a reporter who asked her “What does freedom mean to you now?” “I find no difference” she told him “between the past and now. I was free then and I am free now. He replied “You were suffering from the old regime! Now you are free.” She answered “Then there was just one tyrant, now we are facing a tyrant country….Before we had electricity” she paused, “Yes, things have changed, but for the worse. My country has nothing to give me now.”

There is a pervasive feeling of desperation in the city. One friend told us “If you kill someone in the street, no one asks you anything! Thieves do anything they like!” Tanks roar by below us on the street. Helicopters roar by overhead. And yet the majority of coalition troops are safely ensconced on their bases or in the palace. But what good does their presence do in terms of everyday life? People are beginning to call Paul Bremer, Paul Hussein. Everyone agrees that the situation is a terrible one. Quite by chance I met last Thursday with a Judge Campbell in one of Sadaam Hussein’s former palaces where the CPA staff (Coalition Provisional Authority) is now housed. He also agrees saying “The situation is a disaster, just a disaster.” A Major General reservist and a Superior court judge from Toms River, N.J., he didn’t hesitate to photocopy for us a list of the names of the majority of detainees being held in Iraq (approx. 6,000). “From curfew breakers to murderers” he said shaking his head in frustration. He further stated that they need $20 million dollars to get a satellite computer system up (I kid you not!) in order to remedy the documentation of detainees. “The money just isn’t there” he said.

An indisputable fact and bright spot in an otherwise seemingly dark tunnel is that for the first time people are able to speak freely. We are also able to visit families and travel throughout the city unrestrictedly, except that is for the areas that we hear are especially unsafe. The nightly curfew is a weighty restriction for the city of Baghdad, for it is at night when life begins-after the torturous heat of the day has subsided. It is in the evening when people take to the streets to visit, shop and eat.

A few days ago Kathy and I were visiting Achmed’s home for the first time. After an hour or so of talking and visiting together with the family, his wife graciously beckoned us to the table. Maybe it was the powerful image of sharing a meal together or gathering around the table, but I was suddenly struck by a memory. I remembered thinking back at various times during the months preceding the bombing of how much I wanted to be in Iraq when there would finally be peace. Well, we are far from the peace I had imagined or that any of us have wished for Iraq. But that afternoon with Achmed’s family at the table, I thought of what a momentous occasion it was that we could at least speak openly now and without fear of reprisal. It was just a moment, but one to draw hope from.

Yes, it IS possible now to speak freely in homes. This is not to be minimized. This is to be savored and celebrated. But we are far from free here. Caoimhe (our feisty mince-no-words Irish lass here) would say that “if conditions are worsening by the day, if people are forced to live in a state of prolonged insecurity and terror, then the TALK has to be translated into something that effectively alleviates these conditions. And so far the channels are not being given to people so that they might have real control over their lives. After almost 35 years of deep disempowerment, the process in which people become aware of the power and strength that they collectively possess is a long one. They have to create the channels themselves-a very difficult task which also needs the support and politicization that was witnessed in the anti-war movement. If this is translated into an accompaniment movement that accompanies Iraqis as they begin this process, both communities benefit.”

I have to bring this to a close in order to get to an Internet center before dark. This afternoon I was in a nearby refugee camp for Palestinians. The temperature in the cab was at least 120 degrees, and I had to step out of one of the tents where we were visiting a family as I felt I would collapse from the heat. Kindly faces and warm welcomes. Adorable children playing and greeting Ewa and Caoimhe who are frequent guests there. I will tell you more about that at a later date. For now I greet you all warmly, excuse the pun.
Much love, Cathy