Never thought I'd have to commute to work in Iraq, but sure enough I do. Working out in a town everyday means we have to drive through and deal with traffic, checkpoints, aggressive local drivers, and the other joys of travelling the largest highway in Iraq in the fifth year of war. It takes us a little over a half hour one way. And you don't even get to listen to sports talk.
But once we're there we'll do plenty of walking around. The first thing about being in town is the kids. 'Mista give me chocolate' is the most used phrase in the history of the English language. And even after you tell them no and wipe your hands to symbolize none, they'll fire back another 'mista give me chocolate' without hesitation. After they decide you truely have no chocolate they'll move on to 'mista give me football' or 'mista give me pencil' ad nauseum until you just tune them out or give high fives hard enough to get them to pester someone else. But they enjoy being around soldiers and our convoys and flash everything from thumbs up to peace signs and, now that the Tropic Lightning is in town, throwing up the 'shaka' hawaiian style. They'll even say 'mahalo.'
The adults generally wave and respond to greetings in English. The best part is when you are finished with a conversation and shake their hand and say your goodbyes they'll always say 'okay hello mista.' But they are friendly and seem to like our presence, they don't find our searches or questions at all intrusive. They'll even bring out chai for us to drink after we are done searching them or their homes.
My name isn't easy for them to pronounce(who'd of thought that with Smith, the one name on the first day of school the teacher confidently calls for roll) or remember so they started calling me Mulazam Mohanad. Mulazam is Lieutenant and mohanad is the name my interpreter decided on when they said I should have a good Arabic name. We've gotten out with the people enough in a lot of areas that I won't have to reintroduce myself they'll go straight into the 'ok hello Mulazam Mohanad.'
They ask for a lot of help; everytime I talk to an adult, even if it's just a friendly non-business conversation they will start peppering me with the usual 'when will you fix electricity' or 'the water is bad' or 'can you give us fuel for the heater?' or 'can you give me a job?' They still rely on us to provide much of their basic needs and seem content for whole families(adult siblings often live together) to survive off of one member working a government or security job.
Anyways, these are just some observations from about a month out in the town. I love working with the people ten times more than my old job which had me on the FOB for much of the day. We are working long hours and definitely enjoy the evening we get a week to chill out back on Taji but I prefer it that way, keeps the time going by.
But once we're there we'll do plenty of walking around. The first thing about being in town is the kids. 'Mista give me chocolate' is the most used phrase in the history of the English language. And even after you tell them no and wipe your hands to symbolize none, they'll fire back another 'mista give me chocolate' without hesitation. After they decide you truely have no chocolate they'll move on to 'mista give me football' or 'mista give me pencil' ad nauseum until you just tune them out or give high fives hard enough to get them to pester someone else. But they enjoy being around soldiers and our convoys and flash everything from thumbs up to peace signs and, now that the Tropic Lightning is in town, throwing up the 'shaka' hawaiian style. They'll even say 'mahalo.'
The adults generally wave and respond to greetings in English. The best part is when you are finished with a conversation and shake their hand and say your goodbyes they'll always say 'okay hello mista.' But they are friendly and seem to like our presence, they don't find our searches or questions at all intrusive. They'll even bring out chai for us to drink after we are done searching them or their homes.
My name isn't easy for them to pronounce(who'd of thought that with Smith, the one name on the first day of school the teacher confidently calls for roll) or remember so they started calling me Mulazam Mohanad. Mulazam is Lieutenant and mohanad is the name my interpreter decided on when they said I should have a good Arabic name. We've gotten out with the people enough in a lot of areas that I won't have to reintroduce myself they'll go straight into the 'ok hello Mulazam Mohanad.'
They ask for a lot of help; everytime I talk to an adult, even if it's just a friendly non-business conversation they will start peppering me with the usual 'when will you fix electricity' or 'the water is bad' or 'can you give us fuel for the heater?' or 'can you give me a job?' They still rely on us to provide much of their basic needs and seem content for whole families(adult siblings often live together) to survive off of one member working a government or security job.
Anyways, these are just some observations from about a month out in the town. I love working with the people ten times more than my old job which had me on the FOB for much of the day. We are working long hours and definitely enjoy the evening we get a week to chill out back on Taji but I prefer it that way, keeps the time going by.
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