The Waiting Place...

The Waiting Place...

...Contemplations on those who left, by those left behind

Monday, October 04, 2004

How is it really in Iraq?

That seems to be what's on everyone's minds these days...Well where my husband, Meran, is working as a translator for the coalition forces...Things are not good.

He tells me of people higher up quitting left and right, for example he is suppose to have a site manager that visits every now and then to address their employees, Titan corporation, concerns and to authorize vacation time etc. Since he has been in Gayara, July, nobody has come by. He has repeatedly asked around and heard nothing except "they'll be there". Besides that, he is being asked to do translating jobs that he is not able to do because of lack of personnel with the right language skills. It is assumed that because he is Iraqi, he must know Arabic, which besides hello, how are you, he really doesn't have a grasp...At least not well enough to translate where one word mistake could lead to a wrong arrest or raiding a house that is not involved in the resistance.

And violence-wise things have gotten a lot worse...He is currently about a hour and half to two hours from his uncle's in Duhok. But he is unable to go there because conditions are so bad that it is not safe to travel that roadway. This in comparison to last year where he was visiting once or twice a month on his off time. Also a car bomb exploded in Duhok a couple weeks ago, and up until that point Duhok had yet to see the violence the south had seen. You know its getting bad there and more out of control when the violence has spread into Kurdistan in the north, an area that had things pretty much under raps until now.

But it is time for us to admit that we do not know what we are doing and to go back to the drawing board...What we are doing right now is letting things get worse. Since when does admitting things are going wrong=failure.

To me the bigger failure is to let things be. Any great leader will sit down and reevaluate himself and the situations he faces from time to time, if things need change, he changes it.

posted by Nirgaz | 4:01 PM

Saturday, October 02, 2004

Guantanamo Bay represents an attempt by the Bush regime to place itself above the law in a manner unprecedented since the seventeenth century crisis, which produced the English civil war and the beheading of Charles I. - From Guantanamo Bay, Habeas Corpus and the Texan Who Would be King

We've all been hearing about Guantanamo Bay, Cuba for a long time, and in reference to post-September 11th detainment there, in particular.

There are stories being documented now that posit, when presented collectively, that the detainments at the naval station camp are, in essence, a virtual internment camp...*

Detainees include citizens of over 40 different countries from around the world, including those of our allies. International watchdogs continue to document violations of the Geneva Convention at Guantanamo by the United States, the so-called cradle of democracy. Those with power use it as they see fit, and justify it only when necessary; admitting wrong, making things right, that is never usually done voluntarily. If we see this as wrong - we the citizen of the United States, or even we the citizen of the world - then we must insist on change against wrongs such as this.

What am I going to do about it? First, I won't be voting for President Bush in November. Second, I will continue to keep myself informed. Third, I will continue to tell people about what I find out. Fourth, I will continue to find ways to make a difference. Finally, I hope and pray when I find those ways, I will have the courage to ACT on them. If each person does that, it will make a difference.

* Meanwhile, over in Iraq, Abu Ghraib isn't unique...

posted by Trish | 9:51 PM

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The Weblog Review says

"...focuses more on the human aspect of the Middle East conflict...marvelously refreshing" and "...a portrait of a genuinely loving marriage, and what happens when two people who love each other are torn apart by circumstances."

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Click here to see more images from Eva's visit to Iraqi Kurdistan, to visit Meran in late 2003

I spoke with my daughter and son-in-law tonight. Meran said he wasn't nervous. He sounded resolved, certain that what he was about to do was the right thing. Maybe a bit of his confidence was to help Eva and his sisters feel better about it and not worry for him, but I think he truly believes he should be doing this.

...it's been indicated to Meran that it's more likely that when he's deployed, he won't be going to Kuwait, but Northern Iraq since a northern front is now being established and they'll need Kurdish translators and interpreters onsite.

The poem below was written by a human rights activist that befriended Meran in the Turkish refugee camps. It is all true, based on recollections and memories shared with her by Meran. It was published in a book called "Kurdistan Times", a biannual publication of the Kurdish Human Rights Watch, Copyright 1997...

MY HOME IN KURDISTAN
By Margareta Hanson

My home, so
my father told me
was in a valley
in the mountains,
with a river
clear and cold,
its water running
from the snowfields.

In the garden
fruit trees grew.
We had cucumbers,
grapes and melons.
In the barn
there were, of course,
cows and sheep and
my father's horse.

In our home,
heated by
the baking oven
were handmade carpets
of all colors.
It was my home
until 1980 when
I was two years old.
Then came Saddam's soldiers.
Iraqi troops
bulldozed our house
and the barn,
destroyed the garden
and drove us out
from our valley
in the mountains.

Hunted, homeless,
frightened,
we had to flee.
My father's horse
carrying some
blankets, pots and pans
and my older brother
carrying me.

For years we walked
at night
lighted by the stars.
We were hungry,
cold and ill,
sleeping in a tent
as from place
to place we went.

Like that
we lived
until 1988
when I was
ten years old.
Then planes flew by
and chemical bombs
exploded in the sky.

I had run, was
hiding in the mountains.
When I returned I found
that my mother,
my father, and my brother
were laying dead.
Peshmergas helped me
bury them, and then I fled.

Four years went by.
I stayed with
thousands of other Kurds
in a Turkish camp.
We lived in tents.
For heat the sun,
for light at night
the shining stars.

Now I am in another world
of neon lights and cars.
Here in the United States
I go to school and work at night.
I call myself a man and say
"Forgotten is the pain,
I am on my way."

But when I sleep
I am a child at home
in the valley
in the mountains
with the river
cold and clear,
it's water running
from the snowfields.

In the garden
fruit trees grow.
We have cucmbers,
grapes and melons.
In the barn
there are, of course,
cows and sheep
and my father's horse.

In my dream
I clearly see them,
my father, my mother
and my older brother,
in our home
in the valley
in the mountains
in my country, Kurdistan.

I am asking you, my friend,
is there a Kurdistan,
a land that is mine,
that will welcome me?
Is there a land
of peace and democracy
where all people are free
and living in harmony?

Where hate and murder
does not exist
and every man and
woman is a friend?
If so, Kurdistan, I am
your long-lost son
who wants to go home
and never leave again!