Violating Sanctions
An American Woman’s Listening Tour Through the Axis of Evil
When the Fish Fight Back
I’m in Ko Tao, an island off the southeast coast of Thailand. Quite idyllic, with the best dive sites I’ve seen, lush hillsides, powdery beaches - you know, every one of those brochure clichés that must have been written here first. At the moment, I’m sitting at an open air bar/restaurant listening to the waves that are suddenly active and to pleasant techno jazz on the stereo. There’s a warm, cooling breeze drying my hair. (I just showered, following my night dive.) I’m eating a fabulous fresh steamed tuna in a garlic sauce, slipping bits to a nervous stray cat.
This magical place is the new partying Cabo, an Asian Key West, a young, oh-too-hip crowd bearing more skin, tattoos and piercings than Palm Springs during spring break. I’ve seen more white faces than natives. My fabulous $6 tuna dinner tonight notwithstanding, there are more restaurants here serving burgers and pizza than Pad Thai noodles. English is the default language of choice, and the median age for travelers seems to about, oh, 24. Even at 33, my cousin is older than most of the crowd partying all night at the beaches and bars. At 47, I’m downright dinosaurish.
The diving has been magical, though. Yesterday, I was attacked by a trigger fish 1/5th my size.
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Wrapping My Head Around Head Wraps
I’m sitting in the airport restaurant in Bahrain overlooking the runway. It’s a spectacular view. I have a 6-hour layover here between flights from Damascus to Bangkok.
The women are so interesting to watch. I had a bit of culture shock at the Damascus Airport. The décor in Damascus is shocking – these women would make my hometown bohemian Venetians blush! Head scarves wrapped artfully around their heads and necks, then tight spandex tops stretching down over their derrières, emphasizing every curve and bulge without shame. Other women wear décolleté-baring tops, as if they are making a dry run for the full summer heat. Even the abaya-clad women reveal their full faces and hands. I feel so frumpy in my slacks and untucked white blouses.
“A Person of Concern”
The dignified man tries to hide his desperation under congenial smiles and nods while thrusting a paper in my hand.
“I am an engineer, a civil engineer. My wife is also an engineer. She worked for the Ministry of Oil. You know, it stayed open after the Americans came.”
I remember back to my trip to Baghdad, 3 months after the US stormed the ancient city. The only government building that wasn’t bombed, burned or looted was the Ministry of Oil.
“They said you work for the Oil Ministry, and you take money from Americans, so you must be rich,” Mohammad quotes the insurgents who kidnapped him, (more…)
“All the Family is Scattered”
The old woman starts talking before the others have finished, desperate to tell her story. In fact, her words rush too fast for the translator, who implores her to slow down.
The 75-year-old woman’s husband died during the Gulf War. Her oldest son, an engineer, dodged Sadaam’s draft by escaping to Sweden. Her daughter is a dental assistant in Amman. Her other daughter refused to become a Baathist and was forced to leave Iraq. Her youngest son committed suicide.
“I was in the supermarket and I spoke to a woman American soldier. My neighbors accused me of being a spy. One neighbor was slaughtered for being a Christian. There was no protection; I was scared. They already called me a spy, so I left.” The old woman’s words spilled out in a defiant rush.
“I was living in Baghdad alone. All the family is scattered. I brought nothing (except) the death certificates for my husband and son.”
She hopes to join her nephew in San Diego. “There is no way I can go back to Iraq. I have no house, nothing there. I have nobody. Only God can protect me now.”
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“Everything and Nothing”
“Everything and nothing,” a resigned Wafaa says of what she left in Baghdad when her family fled a year and a half ago.
“We came to Amman after threats of being kidnapped,” her husband explains. “My cousin was kidnapped. While I was negotiating with the kidnappers, they said they’d kidnap me, too. I was concerned about my young teenage daughters, who were in school. My parents were threatened, too. They told them, ‘Either pay money or we will kill you.’ So they left their house.
“My parents were killed by a road explosion,” the 40-something gentle man says softly.
“I don’t know why I was threatened. Maybe they wanted money. But, I was (just) a construction worker,” he says with a shrug.
“We’re here now. No job, we’re not allowed to work. We have no residency; we are like illegals here, waiting for the UNHCR to help.”
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A Note about these Blogs
Between May 16 and 25, I traveled with 9 other Americas to Amman, Jordan, and Damascus, Syria, to meet with Iraqi refugees. I expected abject poverty, decrepit camps, broken people. What I encountered were proud Iraqis who had held positions of accomplishment and, sometimes, of wealth, back in Iraq. Both the Jordanian and Syrian governments, which are dealing with runaway inflation and high unemployment, are trying to avoid repeating the specter of permanent Palestinian refugee camps. Consequently, Iraqis are barred from legal employment. They are provided with temporary and sporadic food and medical assistance by the government and by the office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR).
The stories you will read were told through translators. Although each of the refugees was eager to tell his or her story, and consented to being photographed and interviewed, I have decided to change their names to protect any family members still in Iraq. While each person’s story is unique, the recurring themes of fleeing threats for communicating with Americans, of wishing to join relatives in the US, of knowing that they can never return to their homes or homeland, and of longing for productive lives to provide their children with bright futures were prevalent.
The delegation was organized by the Middle East Fellowship (www.MiddleEastFellowship.org) under the auspices of the Middle East Council of Churches (www.mec-churches.org). However, these blogs reflect solely my own experiences and opinions, not those of any organization or other individual. The Middle East Fellowship is planning future delegations, including one tentatively planned for October 24th to November 1st, which will meet with refugees in Damascus and Beirut. (The UNHCR estimates there are up to 1.4 million Iraqi refugees in Syria and 50,000 in Lebanon.) Further information may be found at Middle East Fellowship (www.MiddleEastFellowship.org/refugee_response).
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Interview on KPFK Pacifica Radio
On Monday, March 17, Emmy-Award winner Lila Garrett aired her interview with me on her popular radio show, “Connect the Dots,” on Pacifica Radio’s KPFK about US military activities in the Philippines and Guam.
Click here to hear the 20-minute interview, which aired in Los Angeles and Santa Barbara. I am the second guest, minutes 28 through 45. Lila named me her Grassroots Hero of the Week, but that honor really belongs to the women and men who are fighting every day to regain their families and countries. I was honored to meet them.
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Good Morning, America
“Yes, I sued the president today,” said lawyer Harry Roque. Having sued my own president, I was quite impressed. “But we’ve impeached her before,” he added dismissively.
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Our delegation is here at a propitious time: Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, or GMA, as she’s referred to by the acronym-dropping Filipinos, is in trouble. Her administration got caught in a scandal while courting the Chinese government. Thousands of people marched in the streets earlier this month protesting graft and corruption, and several demonstrations were held today during the national holiday celebrating the end of the Marcos regime. (more…)
Maneuvering Manila
I paid for the bus ride – the spinal adjustment was free. For an hour and a half, my bus driver played out a staccato rhythm between the horn and the accelerator, whiplashing drowsy passengers in a choreographed wave.
The public transport through Manila is not for the faint of heart – or spine. Jeepneys, tricycles, shared vans and air con and ordinary price buses all compete in one snarled sea of exhaust.
Buses feature impressive young fare collectors who surf the aisle, making change and small talk, dispensing tickets and directions, leaving the driver’s attention to bullying a path through the laneless traffic. (more…)
Butterflying
“She wanted to fly so high, she could see all the people on earth,” Dina Valencia says of her daughter. Six-year-old Crizel died eight years ago today from leukemia likely caused by the toxic wastes the US left behind when it formally closed Clark Air Base.
Crizel leaves behind a portfolio of vibrant drawings of psychedelic butterflies, floating hearts, lush flowers and dancing vegetables. Her mother thumbs through a scrapbook of Crizel’s artwork, proudly showing off her daughter’s colorful spirit.
She also leaves behind a year of painful memories for one frantic mother and a legacy of media interviews as the face of the impact of American military presence in the Philippines. (more…)
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