Purpose of Voices in the Wilderness:

Voices in the Wilderness was formed in 1996 to nonviolently challenge the economic warfare being waged by the US against the people of Iraq. Voices continues its work today, acting to end to the US occupation of Iraq. As US citizens, our key demands of our government include:

• An end to the US occupation of Iraq.
• The clean-up in Iraq of depleted uranium, cluster bombs and landmines and other unexploded weapons, with this clean-up fully funded by the US. A prohibition on any future use of such weapons.
• Respect for all human rights and worker rights in Iraq.
• Respect for Iraqi movement toward self-determination and renunciation of any effort to create a puppet government with strings attached to the US’ own national interest.
• Payment of restitution by the US government to Iraqis who suffered loss as a result of the past 14 years of economic and military warfare at the hands of the US.
• Reconstruction of Iraq funded by the US and its allies, but directed by and for the benefit of Iraqi citizens.
• Employment of Iraqis, not non-Iraqis, in the rebuilding of Iraq, with Iraqis being paid a living wage.
• Full health care for all, including US soldiers and Iraqis, who suffered physical or psychological injuries as a result of the US war against Iraq.
• Redirecting our country’s resources away from war-making and towards funding of the common good. The common good includes fully funded universal health care and education, including post-high school education. It also includes employment which pays a living wage.

Cluster Bombs - Digital photograph, 2003 by Christopher Holden

By Cathy Breen
Amman, Jordan
Tuesday, March 1, 2005

Dear friends,

SUICIDE BOMBER KILLS 115 is the headline in today’s Jordan Times newspaper.

“Scores of dazed residents searched for loved ones amid the dying and wounded, enveloped in smoke from a suicide car bomb which killed 115 people in Hilla, south of Baghdad, on Monday. Iraqi security agents were forced to fire shots in the air to disperse the growing crowd sucked in to a scene of carnage where 148 were also wounded when the bomb ripped throgh those waiting by a medical centre for a physical check so they could be hired by the government.“

Last night as several of us (5 Iraqi friends, Anna and myself) gathered for dinner at Anna’s apartment. There was a moment of silence and intense grief when someone mentioned this particular suicide bomb. News of this nature, although it has become commonplace, is still met in this part of the world with horror and dismay.

Abu Zayneb was among the guests. We had heard about this dear man from Kerbala through Sheila Provencher of CPT. She thinks very highly of him and considers him like family, so much so that she addresses him as “uncle.” A mechanical engineer by profession, he works as a high school teacher in Kerbala where he was born and raised. In Amman for meetings, he appeared at our hotel the other afternoon quite unexpectedly looking for Kathy and myself. Sheila had sent him to us.

By Maxine Nash

It’s becoming spring here in Baghdad. The days are getting warmer, the sun shines longer, and I’ve seen some new growth on flowers and shrubs in the neighborhood. It’s a time of new beginnings.

Yet it doesn’t feel like spring in my heart. In fact, my heart is very heavy. I read a report today from a Quaker therapist who works with returning U.S. soldiers and their families. The therapist noted that the returning soldiers are feeling like they’ve lost an important part of themselves because of the actions they’ve done in Iraq, and fear they are damaged permanently by behaving against their core beliefs. The therapist also mentions that most of the soldiers returning from Iraq are angry, and that the anger seems to be a necessity to staying alive in Iraq.

By Sheila Provencher
Christian Peacemaker Teams

Being in Iraq is so different from reading about it or watching TV. In Amman the week before I left, I felt scared and uncertain. All of my friends, understandably, warned me about going back to Baghdad: It is too dangerous, people kidnapped on the roads, foreigners could put Iraqi lives in danger.

But in Iraq­-even hearing occasional distant “booms” or gunfire a neighborhood away­-this place is most basically Home, home to millions of people. In my neighborhood, the same kids run down the street to shake my hand, my shopkeeper friends test out my new Arabic and give me a thumbs-up. My host family, once threatened, wants me to sleep over again. Iraqi human-rights colleagues are glad that CPT is still here, and they want us to stay even if there is risk.

Last week, I found out one of the reasons why. Horrible things are happening, and too many people feel that there is no one left to tell the story. In the last week, I have seen the outskirts of Fallujah, talked with refugees, and heard several first-person testimonies of countless civilian deaths. The stories are hard to read and to hear.

I also have been reading more about PTSD and returning soldiers who cannot adapt to regular life again after they have killed other human beings in Iraq and/or seen their friends killed.

The following reflection is longer than usual. I am sorry, there was no other way to convey what happened.

Peace and blessings to you…
Sheila

“Syria is the problem. Syria is where those weapons of mass destruction are, in my view. You know, I can fly an F-15, put two nukes on ‘em and I’ll make one pass. We won’t have to worry about Syria anymore.” Rep. Sam Johnson (R-TX) Texas Republican Congressman: “Nuke Syria”

Two young men in green sports suits walking past us. With a shout of joy and a spontaneity so characteristic of Theresa, she asked them if we could take a picture. IRAQ was written in white letters across the backs of their sports suits. They smiled and agreed. (photo: Cathy Breen)

By Cathy Breen
Damascus, Syria
Sunday, March 6, 2005

As we sped along in a taxi service toward Syria, I tried to take in the beautiful desert landscape, periodically dotted with sheep and tents, while also giving my attention to Gabe who was between Theresa and myself in the backseat reading to us about the history of Damascus. No longer a “multi-task” person as I was in my younger years, I’m afraid I surrendered more often than not to the scenery. I kept thinking “I can’t believe we are on the road to Damascus!”