Life's Plans

            As I was finishing my Masters’ degree programs at Seton Hall I did not have the slightest inclination that I would be living in Iraq.  A majority of the job applications that I sent were in New York/New Jersey, Washington DC, New Hampshire, or Massachusetts.  Iraq was nowhere on my radar as far as employment prospects were concerned.  Yet, despite my best efforts to plan otherwise, an unexpected opportunity presented itself and here I am. 

In my three years of grad school I never even started to worry about the “next step” until graduation finally appeared on the horizon.  Many people had positions secured before graduation, and many others were frantically trying to join the club.  Despite graduating into a weak economy, I was confident that something would come up.  My confidence, working in tandem with my laid back attitude, led me to take the application process rather unhurriedly. 

In hindsight, there is certainly more that I could have done to a) explore all opportunities, b) make the most of personal contacts, and c) have things lined up in advance.  However, had my contrivances come to fruition, I would not be writing this blog.  Although there are difficulties, I am ultimately content with my decision to come here.  A book on choices, by Dr. Shad Helmstetter, noted, “The choices we make by accident are just as important as the choices we make by design.”  I find myself irresolute and indecisive on whether I should patiently seize opportunities as they come up or maintain focus on a clearly defined end goal. 

Although any decision on employment is, in all likelihood, 11 months away I still find myself facing this inner conflict.  My inner dalliance with the instantaneous wishes to sweep away any talks of the future until the time comes; the pragmatic, income-calculating realist is already spending nearly 30 minutes a day exploring job opportunities.  Clearly, the situation is not imperative, but the uncertainty of the dreaded unknown can be a lead weight around your neck.  For me personally, it isn’t so much the uncertainty of position that bothers me; it is the uncertainty of location.  I guess I should take heed of my current situation and tell my worries, “Listen, no matter what you have planned in life, you could just end up in Iraq.” 

Carpe Diem

Talking the Talk

           After two months of waiting and memorizing random Kurdish words, last night we officially started formal language lessons.  Up until now there are about 10-15 key phrases which we have down.  I can successfully greet someone hello and goodbye; order my food and ask for take-out at restaurants; read and write Arabic numbers; ask to go to a few locations in town; and a few other assorted phrases and comments.  Having a conversation with anyone is all but impossible, but if I listen hard enough I can pick out words to occasionally discern what they are talking about.  Thus far it has been a slow process, but pronunciation and my ear for the language are improving.  Reading and writing are still equivalent to hieroglyphics. 

            As we stepped into the first class last night I had the odd feeling that, for perhaps the first time in my life, I was probably going to be at the very bottom of the class.  There are about 10 people in class and everyone but Paige and I either can speak/read/write in Arabic; speak in Kurdish but not read or write; or has at least had previous formal training of some combination of the two.  Paige and I are starting tabula rasa, blank slate. 

            I can now completely empathize with the students in my English class who are clearly out of place and have no business being there.  Their skills in the language are well below that of the class average, and it is a struggle for them to keep up.  I am now that person in Kurdish class.  For the first 30 minutes of class I had absolutely no idea what was transpiring before me; I was listening to the teacher lecture in a mix of Arabic, Kurdish, and English.  To make matters more confusing, he wrote notes on the board from right to left and: numbered the lesson in Arabic, wrote some letters in English, some in Kurdish with the Arabic alphabet, and some in Kurdish with the Latin alphabet.  Needless to say, it took me a good deal of time to even discern the difference between an Arabic character and a simple comma. 

            It is a humbling experience to have to entirely learn a new alphabet.  It forcibly takes you back to the level of education of a young child.  But by this point you have accrued various life experiences and lessons, all of which utilize a familiar alphabet, the lowest common denominator of any language.  To learn a new alphabet runs counter to everything you have learned thus far and at least in my mind, there is some resistance to learning a new one.  Latin alphabets are common so languages like French, Spanish, Italian, etc. are difficult, but you can at least look at a word and have some semblance of how to pronounce it.  Looking at words in Arabic I can’t even pick out one letter.  This is definitely going to be a long, drawn out process.  It is one in which I will have to overcome numerous instances where I will inevitably want to throw my hands in the air and capitulate to defeat.

 

            However, that is not going to happen.  While I have no intention of dedicating numerous hours to learning Kurdish, I will maximize the time that I have available in the classroom.  I do not need to be fluent, but if I want to apply for a job I would like to comfortably, and honestly, state that I have a basic familiarity with Kurdish.  Preferably, this knowledge will extend to both the Latin and Arabic alphabets.

My "Wish" Granted

           When I previously blogged about being upset that I was missing the action on protests worldwide, I stated this with the implicit undertone that any form of violence, emanating from protestors or police, was not exactly what I was looking for.  It is more the act of civil disobedience and making your voice heard that interests me; speaking out against systems which have so blatantly run rough shod over the interests of common, everyday citizens.   I do not condone violence in any way and many of the images ranging from American campuses to the streets in Yemen are downright appalling.  To tone deaf governments, sometimes individually speaking up is futile and you need to join together with a common voice in order to demand attention; however, that common voice should never invoke unbridled anger as an emotion, and those common voices should never be treated as hostile dissidents unless they are truly acting as such.    

            After seeing the brief and disorganized protest in front of the University of Duhok I flippantly laughed it off as if it were nothing, a mirage of true activism.  This is a calm area where, to an unknowing foreigner, peace and love reign supreme.  No place is ever fully immune to civic unrest.  Perhaps my previous misconception was only because I am essentially secluded from the civic interactions that regular citizens endure.  Given the language barrier, local news is alien to me and public issues aren’t discussed in detail.  I have a general sense of what is going on, but lack a full understanding.   Well, evidently there has been something brewing.  I am not sure how major it is, but today the pot spilled over. 

            Protests erupted in nearby Zakho which left close to 30 buildings burned and many people wounded.  I heard that another building was burned in Duhok.  This article, in addition to the linked Youtube video, better describe what happened: http://www.ekurd.net/mismas/articles/misc2011/12/state5628.htm

It is now clear why soldiers were lining the streets of Duhok today, presumably to prevent further unrest.  Given my limited understanding of Iraqi politics, varying view points in the article should be taken with a grain of salt.  However, torched buildings are still burned regardless of why. 

            I should say that I do NOT fear for my safety in any way, shape, or form.  This is entirely unrelated to anything that I remotely have anything to do with, and seems to be based in more political infighting as opposed to external factors.  Even if the situation continues to boil for some time, I have a hunch that it will not spark anything dramatic that would warrant me fearing for my personal safety.  With a clear head and enough street smarts to walk away from large crowds, I’m sure that I will be fine.  Just as it is disheartening to see idly sitting protestors get pepper sprayed at point blank range, it is equally disturbing to see mass crowds burning buildings.  When I mention wanting to see people stand up for something, that wasn’t quite what I had in mind.  

Who Turned Out the Lights?

The past few days have been quite eventful to say the least.  One chilly evening about four days ago the power went out.  Not even thinking twice about it, as this is a daily occurrence, I continued whatever it was that I was doing at the time.  Usually it comes back on within an hour at most; most of the power outages are only minor inconveniences.  Within a few hours nothing had happened.   Around 11:30pm, just as my computer was giving way to its exigent need for power, I decided to call it a night as sitting in the dark was a feckless pursuit. 

            This was the earliest I have gone to bed in I don’t know how long, and I didn’t even wake up till around 10:30am.  I awoke from a beautiful, albeit frigid, night’s sleep filled with random, crazy dream adventures, to find a heater that was still off.  Despite my hopes that the rising sun would bring with it electricity, this was not the case.  Hours later and still, regardless of my musings as to finding the source of the problem, and inflammatory cursing at the power grid, the entire building was cold and dark.  At this point it became evident that I would need to a) put up with another night eating and sitting in the dark, or b) find someplace else to go.  My friend Ali, luckily, offered up his house as a place to bide my time until our power returned. 

            Kurdish hospitality took full advantage of the opportunity to prove its worth once again, and within minutes of my arrival I was warmly greeted with snacks and fruits.  Ali’s family was very kind and although there were no beds, only pads surrounding the perimeter of the room, I slept fairly well.  I was kept warm under a hand-made Kurdish blanket and a nearby gas heater.   The only problem, or better put problems, were Ali’s pet birds whose incessant chirping shattered my peaceful slumber at 7:30am.  These birds were the least of my problems for the next few days. 

            Upon arriving back at the Zeri Land flats and still seeing a powerless building, along with a few others, it was evident that there was a larger problem at hand.  After seeing a massive hole in the ground next to the café that sits in front of my apartment, we stopped to ask what happened.  Evidently some idiot decided it would be fruitful to dig into the ground with metal rods; it is my sincere hope that there was a legitimate reason for this, but in his bungling attempt to do God knows what he managed to sever and burn the power lines for 8 buildings, mine being one of them.  After speaking with apartment management we learned that the problem could be resolved in, “one hour, or 4-5 days.”  Typical broad based answer which leaves you asking yourself, why did you bother?  At this point I was already mentally calculating that this could very well turn into a 7+ day affair knowing the oxymoron that is Iraqi efficiency. 

            Not wanting to inconvenience Ali anymore, Paige and I spent the next night at Sabah’s house.   They also live in Zeri Land, although in a different part of the large 20+ building complex.  Hospitality was served in large helpings, but no amount of generosity could alleviate the fact that being a transient is, frankly, a pain in the ass.  Apart from these annoyances, I was particularly aggrieved by the prospective loss of our freshly purchased groceries.  Most important to me was about 5 pounds of chicken in the freezer and the 16 yogurts that I had bought the day before.  After 2.5 days without power, and a puddle of water formulating from freezer ice, you naturally expect that much of the food is going to spoil. 

            The next evening, when the power finally came on, I victoriously took a hot shower after soccer and warmed up my leftovers in the microwave…bliss.  I slept comfortably in my bed, and despite my oncoming cold, I was warm and happy to be “home.”  I knew that I was getting sick but in my state of joy to be back at the apartment, I blithely decided that I wasn’t going to throw away any of the food in the fridge.  I proceeded to enjoy a hearty meal of leftover oatmeal with honey, apples, and walnuts, and followed it up with delicious strawberry yogurt.  Big mistake.  Within hours my normal cold had turned into the worst feeling my stomach had endured in a long time.  It was a brutal combination reminiscent of a terrible hangover combined with the flu and a Pacquiao jab to the gut.  For hours I laid in bed unable to even drink water.  Next time I am considering being “miserly,” aptly described by a friend, I will eat the $6 loss instead of chowing down food that will make me feel completely dreadful. 

            Now that the power is back on, and I am near 100%, all is finally well.  Even though I can’t find good fried chicken to save my soul; the shower still gets water everywhere; and I still have to dry clothes outside in the winter, this is still my “home” away from home and I’m glad that things are back to some sense of normalcy.