28. The World in Iraq
September 20, 2008 Leave a comment
[Adapted from my monthly hardcopy newspaper column, For Goodness' Sake, in Front Porch magazine]
Armed Turkish soldiers encircled me, the solitary American. They were moving closer, speaking in that mysterious language. I was only too aware that I had no weapon besides my own two hands. Suddenly, everyone paused as we heard the ferocious sounds of a running machine gun battle closer in toward Baghdad. That fight wasn’t far from my hooch, a half mile away….
Armed Turkish Soldier
This incident occurred a couple of months ago. It’s all true, but today I’m delighted to report that I am neither dead nor detained. I’m comfortably tucked in with a coffee and a keyboard, in fact. Please indulge me as I elaborate:
One of the best parts of moving around Iraq now is the opportunity to meet up with the numerous international forces comprising the Coalition. Over my 42 years I’ve lived in many of their countries (thirty-plus, at last count), exploring those cultures with the curiosity and enthusiasm of a small child.
In the early 1990′s, my stay in Turkey lasted a full year. (This was coincident with the collapse of the Soviet Union, but no, I won’t take credit for that one.)
I would drink chai in the tea gardens with my best friend Hayri. We spoke for hours about his father the Muslim cleric, the qualities of carpets in Hayri’s rug shop, and how horribly I had offended nearby little old ladies with my inadvertent mispronunciations. (Early on, Hayri had to hustle me off to different tea gardens frequently to escape the scorching glares of victims of my linguistic drive-bys.)
Years later I learned that Hayri had, like me, made his way into the military as a commando. He led a squad in southeastern Turkey against Kurdish fighters of the PKK, an organization that Turkey identified as terrorist. It’s funny how a preacher’s humble son from a small town would end up in that business.
It’s funny how people from across the human spectrum can come to be involved in violence against strangers. Our natural instincts to protect our “own” against dangerous “others” are expanded to include institutional us-vs.-them purposes.
Spetsnaz Commando Jumping, Throwing Hatchet
I once had hot dogs and beer on my patio with the head of Spetsnaz (Russia’s version of our Special Forces). We discussed how pleasant it was to not be enemies for the time being. We also discussed how, in the unpleasant case of international relations “going south” again, should we find ourselves face-to-face on a hillcrest…only the quicker would walk away.
Duty is like that.
Fast forward to this month and the Turks surrounding me. These Liaison Officers were friends of mine, at a “Hail and Farewell” party they were hosting for a change of staff. They had invited me and a variety of international colleagues; I enjoyed speaking Russian with the Ukrainian and Georgian, Turkish with the Azerbaijani and our hosts, some Arabic with the Jordanian, and English with the rest. I was unarmed, because at the time I was only working in the same palace as General Petraeus.
(This was in two different offices of the palace, you understand. Different floors, actually.)
It’s also true that, while these Turks surrounded me, we paused to listen to a running machine gun fight a half mile away…outside the base wall, but just barely. While our gathering represented the harmony possible among a dozen unlike nations, men were savagely killing each other within earshot. While the rage continued on those ancient streets, “micro-globalization” in one tiny trailer in Baghdad showed a flicker of hope for the future of this race.
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