By Cathy Breen
Voices in the Wilderness
Baghdad
September 26, 2003

Dear Friends,

I imagine that if we learn to die gracefully all of the little daily deaths, then the final death will come more easily.

Last night Amal, her 3 children and sister-in-law with her young daughter were visiting with us around the kitchen table when shooting broke out on the street below. People began running and angry voices were heard, and we had out hands full trying to keep the boys, Omar and Ali, from sticking their heads out the window! The shopkeeper Mohammed had said to Ed and I just an hour or so before that we should get a guard for the house, or “pay the police just a little bit” to look after us. And he cautioned us not to allow cars to park in front of our place (because of bombs). Most of our Iraqi friends feel we’re unwise for not having a gun in the house. A half-hour or so later we could hear car-horns honking, the sign of a cheerful wedding caravan, in the streets. We all laughed together which broke the tension somewhat. Soon it was high time for Amal and her clan to head home, about a 15 minute walk. We embraced and I wished them safe travel.

At about 7 am that morning Eva and I were talking in our room when a very loud explosion caused us to run out onto the roof. Our first thought was that the Sheraton or Palestine hotel had been hit, but there was no smoke coming from that direction. We found out later that a bomb had gone off at a hotel not too far away where the NBC staff is housed. And so began the day.

At 11:00 am Abu Mohammed, a trusted neighbor and reliable taxi-driver, was to pick me up to take me to the British Consul which has recently been relocated in the Al Rasiid hotel. I was hoping to request a letter granting a doctor friend and her two colleagues permission to cross over into Jordan in order to get a visa from the British Embassy there to attend a 5-week training course. No visas are being issued here in Iraq, nor will be for months to come–maybe even years. Tracking down this consul has been no small feat. It involved a trip to the Civilian Assistance Center, and then another to the former British Embassy to speak with the guards there. I wrote a “dear friends” letter about the trip to the Civilian Assistance Center, but this lengthy communication is off somewhere in cyberspace as the server went down at the internet center as I was trying to send it.

Nothing is simple here, nothing is easy. Getting from one place to another is time consuming and difficult due to traffic jams. There are still no traffic lights working and major streets are blocked off by coalition forces. The lack of electricity continues to be a very sore spot. No lights at night, dark streets and ill-lit houses aggravate the security issue. Everyone is afraid. More and more people are believing that it must be intentional. After so many months, they cannot believe, nor I for that matter, that a country as powerful and wealthy as the U.S. can’t get their electricity up and running. Especially when expensive military machinery is parading overhead and through their streets. Unable to telephone people means you must go to that person or have no contact at all. Imagine that you couldn’t call a hospital or the police in the case of an emergency? The only thing that is easy nowadays is the heartiness and warmth of the people. And the relationship quality of the culture makes one forget that danger is a real element to be heeded.

A few days ago I went to the Civilian Assistance Center with a list of questions. I was especially eager to see if I could get the names and addresses of the new Ministries, especially the Ministry of Health and the Ministry of Justice and to inquire as to the whereabouts of the Jordan and British Embassies. Haythem agreed to come with me to translate. On this occasion we were approached by some of the people standing outside in the blazing sun, three of whom have subsequently sought us out here at our Voices house. A group of about a dozen people gathered around us. I had asked Haythem to translate for me who we were and what our intentions are here in Iraq. One man commented “People are tired, there are no jobs, no electricity or water. If we don’t get security we will resist.” Another man added “The Iraqi army didn’t fight because Bush said ‘we’re bringing freedom.’ If the situation doesn’t get better we will use force.” The conversation was a serious one and people were understandably heated, but the atmosphere was one of openness and not at all threatening.

I struggled to find the words I wanted. I said something to the effect that the American forces are here. This is a fact. And it seems as though they don’t know what to do. Everyone was in agreement with this. But what do you think? I asked. You also must be a part of what happens. Some replied “The Iraqi people need to get the authority back as soon as possible. Give it to the Governing Council! But there were others who disagreed saying “No, the Governing Council doesn’t represent the Iraqi people, because to date they haven’t helped us.”

The requests that people had brought were varied. Someone seeking employment, a family member of someone killed during the bombing seeking compensation. A woman being evicted from her apartment with nowhere to go. She must pay $800 or agree to give one of her daughters in marriage. Did I know where she could sell one of her organs? No food, she said, no jobs. A man whose home was searched by the coalition forces. Two computers were taken and never returned. He is unable to get any information. Could we help him get them back? I could go on and on.

To one side was an elderly gentleman, slight and poorly clad, waiting patiently for Haythem and myself. He had approached us maybe 20 minutes before, an artificial eye in his hand. As he spoke he began to cry. His son was in the hospital awaiting an operation. He had just come from some organization or agency where he’d been given 10,000 Iraqi Dinar toward the expenses. But it wasn’t enough. I explained regretfully that we were not a relief organization, but I asked how much money was lacking. As it turned out it was about 50,000 I.D., about $25.00-an amount that seemed within our means. So he was waiting to return to the apartment with us, collect the money and go on to the hospital. He was overjoyed, thanking us profusely. How humbling.

A sobering conversation later in the day with a young neighbor. When we want to build something, the foundation has to be stable, something we haven’t had for 40 years. There are people who don’t want this to happen. We have to deal with the small things before we can deal with the big. Up to now we don’t have the government. It is a big mess. We need time. Saddam Hussein was terrible. We need time to change, time is important. We don’t have a lot of time.

This morning a man came to the house whom I met at the Civilian Assistance Center. I had given him our card as we had no time to speak there. His wife is desperately ill with an auto-immune disease, and he doesn’t know where to turn. Trying hard to control his emotions, he explained that over the last 8 years he has sought help everywhere for her. He was told on more than once occasion that only outside Iraq could she receive the help she needs. I could only reply that I would try and see if any NGOs working here presently would be able to assist him, but that I couldn’t promise anything. He understood.

As we find so often when there is no rush or time pressure on a visit, the level of conversation deepens as trust is established. This gentleman began to tell me that in the area where he lives, the mayor and police chief are former Ba’ath party members. He said that in the meetings with the Coalition authorities people are not free to speak for fear of repercussions. In his words “The American army doesn’t get the right advice.” How, he asks, can one speak in front of the U.S. army when the Ba’ath party is present? I found it particularly moving when he said “Many people want to shoot me, but I’m not afraid. I tell my friends, they should continue if I die.” He said “We must be concerned about a better future for our children.” His wife however fears for his life. He feels that the “right” persons in civil society need to be given authority. Could we help refer him to someone in authority to speak with? You can hear how complex and multi-layered the situation is here.

What a monumental task this would seem, no? But this man, whose name I prefer not to use nor the place he comes from, gives me hope. His courage, outspokenness, fervor and integrity represent for me the backbone of Iraqi society and culture. We plan to be in ongoing contact with him. I told him that many people from my country are present with us and standing together with him in this hard time.

This morning we heard on BBC that the U.N. is pulling out most of its International Staff. Actually there are only 80 some Internationals left. Hans Von Sponeck was on the radio as well. He said that this is a clear expression that the Secretary General is worried about staff. Politically it is impossible, he feels, to remove all of the staff. He seems to think that the UN will leave a symbolic presence here. But it is a message to Americans to try and improve on securing security. I believe he said as well “that Americans must deal with Iraqis differently.”

I’d like to leave you with this poem by Seamus Heaney that has been a source of strength to me. It is called Doubletake.

Human beings suffer,
They torture one another,
They get hurt and get hard.
No poem or play or song
Can fully right a wrong
Inflicted and endured.

The innocent in goals (jails)
Beat on their bars together.
A hunger-striker’s father
Stands in the graveyard dumb.
The police window in veils
Faints at the funeral home.

History says, Don’t hope
On this side of the grave.
But then, once in a lifetime
The longed-for tidal wave
Of justice can rise up,
And hope and history rhyme.

So hope for a great sea-change
On the far side of revenge.
Believe that a further shore
Is reachable from here.
Believe in miracles
And cures and healing wells.

Call miracle self-healing:
The utter, self-revealing
Double-take of feeling.
If there’s fire on the mountain
Or lightening and storm
And a god speaks from the sky

That means someone is hearing
The outcry and the birth-cry
Of new life at its term.

I will close for now sending much love, cathy