November Missive

A Missive from Mesopotamia

----------------------------------------------------

Welcome! / mar-Ha-ba! / مرحبا!

October is upon us, and up here in the northern hemisphere that often means shorter daylight hours, cooler temps, changing leaves, and post-season baseball.  We can watch the post-season ballgames here on Armed Forces Network, but it’s tough to watch live given the time difference, although I can sometimes catch the last few innings of a game with my morning coffee, if it was a night game.  (Being a Milwaukee boy originally, I was up at 400 am to watch the Dodgers ruin the chances for the Brew Crew to get back in to the World Series.)  And while daylight hours are shortened, there aren’t too many leaves to change (palms don’t drop orange and red fronds to the ground), the temperatures are still high, and we have seen only about five days which were not bright, cloudless sunshine.  If the weather app on my phone is accurate, today will be the very first day since my arrival more than 130 days ago with a high temperature under 100 degrees Fahrenheit:  99 today and 98 tomorrow, and then back up over 100 until next weekend.  Later in the month we should see highs only in the 80s.

Time to break out the parka!

Baghdad from the air.  When traveling to and from the embassy, we take a helicopter (!) to the airport and back - 

and I was facing out to the side THROUGH AN OPEN DOOR.

This is the Tigris River with a power plant in background.

The Tigris River and city of Baghdad.
You can see evidence of the heat from the rotors of the helicopter on the left side of this photo and the next one.

The Babylon Hotel on the right bank of the river is directly across from the embassy compound.
I see this hotel from my apartment window.

A blue-domed mosque nearby as we prepare to land.

The Wedding of the Century

I had one condition upon accepting this job in Baghdad back in January (leaving aside the fact that I actually had no leverage upon which to make conditions):  Of course I needed to be able to return to the US for the big day – The Wedding of the Century.

There are innumerable reasons why I consider myself to be incredibly fortunate, extraordinarily blessed.  One reason in particular in relation to this life and career path I’ve chosen is that I have had the opportunity to be home for important family events.  Some of my colleagues, particularly those in the military, are not so lucky to be able to return for major holidays and life events.  So far I have two university graduations and now a wedding under my belt, and I will remain forever grateful to my colleagues for supporting my time away from post at these critical moments. 

I was among hundreds of family members and friends who invaded the small town of St. Peter, Minnesota in late August to join Jenna and Tommy on their big day.   It’s hard to imagine events surrounding the wedding and all the supporting activities going more perfectly, in large part due to the efforts and planning of Jenna and her family.  Their meticulous planning and hard work over the many months prior to the wedding all came together smoothly, and with basically perfect weather on the big day, meant a nearly flawless event.  Maybe a napkin was folded improperly, or a flower lost a petal or two, but if that happened I didn’t notice, and I don’t think anyone else did either.  Everything about my time back in Minnesota was perfect.  We were able to see and spend time with so many friends and family members, and we had more fun than should be allowed under the law.  What a blast.

If you were there, thank you for your support of Jenna and Tommy, and for spending your time with us.  I certainly appreciate it, and am certain they do as well.  Thank you.

Bachelors, Beers and Bogies.

Meeting up with his brothers from BUD/S after several years.

All the duffers at the 19th hold.

Rehearsing.

Rehearsing.

The Team picked up a 'ringer.' 😀

Cousin, Grandma and Aunt.

Aunt Amy, Uncle Eric, Cousin Danny, and Grandma.

Three Mrs. Panettis.

The Best Man and his gift - a broken paddle from
BUD/S, signed by their crew.

Everybody’s Working for the Weekend

Big hair, headbands and cut-off t-shirts of the early 80s rock band Loverboy notwithstanding, it’s basically true amongst all of humanity that we work to live, particularly for the weekends, rather than live to work.  Or we should, anyway.

But how does one define a weekend, anyway?  And was it ever even up for debate?  It turns out this part of the world doesn’t follow the same ‘rules’ about silly things like when a weekend should be, actually.  In Islam, the holy day (or gathering day, as described by the Prophet Muhammed) is Friday, as opposed to Sunday in Christian religions and Saturday in Judaism.  Even though our embassies are part of the US federal government, the bulk of our employees at embassies around the world come from the host country, and so therefore we often follow local customs and traditions when it comes things like this.  Here in Iraq, our workweek starts on Sunday and ends on Thursday, and the weekend is Friday and Saturday.  (Although some countries in the region designate Thursday and Friday as the days of rest, and some have adopted the Saturday-Sunday structure.)  This can create some confusion when dealing with Washington, where of course everyone follows the Monday to Friday workweek, but mostly everyone just adapts and it works fine.

Seems obvious to observe that not every country or culture in the world practices the same rituals or behaviors, but perhaps the two of you never thought about the weekend being different before.  Admittedly, I understood Friday to be the holy day in the Muslim world prior to my arrival, but never gave much thought to the practicalities of how it works before.  Like NBC says:  “The more you know.”

Iraq is a Muslim majority country, of course, and some Muslims practice pretty strict rules when it comes to interactions between men and women.  Knowing that, what happens when an American male (or really any adult male) is formally introduced to an Iraqi Muslim woman in a professional setting?  More practicalities I never gave much thought to before.  The answer to this seeming conundrum is actually quite simple:  just take the lead from the woman.  (What a novel concept!)  At the time of introduction, if the woman reaches out to shake hands, then of course reciprocate.  If she prefers not to shake hands, she’ll place her right hand over her heart when saying “nice to meet you” or what have you, and includes a slight bow of the head.  In such cases the male should simply do the same.  It happens quickly, but all one has to do is pay attention and follow her lead.  The same is true when taking leave at the end of a meeting, for example.  Often men will do the same thing even after shaking hands, after the greeting or leave taking is complete and the hands have been shaken, the right hand goes to cover the heart.  It’s really quite a nice gesture.

My part of the United States isn’t particularly diverse, as you might know.  (2010 US Census data indicate Minnesota’s population is about 85% white, 5% black, and 4% Asian, with the balance made up of two or more races, other races, Native Americans and Native Hawaiians and Pacific Islanders.)  Of course like the country as a whole Minnesota is becoming more diverse as time goes by, but nonetheless it hasn’t been particularly common in my part of the Twin Cities to see many women wearing hijabs or other culturally appropriate garments for Muslim women.  Here in Iraq, of course, it’s much more common, as you might expect.  However, it’s inappropriate to paint the entire region with the same broad brush about culture (or anything, really), meaning that many women in Iraq choose not to wear the hijab.  Some of my Iraqi colleagues do, and some don’t.  In riding around the city, I have seen some women wear the niqab (like a hijab but with the more complete face veil), others not; some men wear the dishdasha (ankle length robes), some don’t; some men wear the keffiyeh (a scarf warn atop the head) or other head coverings, some don’t.  Even the words for them are often different based on the country or region.  Like Christianity and Judaism, Islam is monotheistic but not monolithic – each country, each region, each family has its own practices based on a whole host of religious interpretations, historical factors or individual ethnicity or preference.  It’s just the way it is.

If you remember your world history or comparative religion courses from college (or whatever), you’re likely familiar at least a little with the Five Pillars of Islam.  These are the five basic tenets of Islam that the faithful practice, if they are able, and are the foundation of what it means to be a Muslim.  The first (shahada) is a declaration of faith, simply stating a belief that “There is no god but God (Allah), and Mohammed is the messenger of God (Allah),” the essential element in declaring oneself a Muslim.  The second (salah) consists of prayer, typically understood as the five daily prayers.  Third is the act of charity or almsgiving (zakat); if a Muslim is able they are obligated to ease the economic suffering of the less fortunate.  Fourth is ritual fasting (sawm), which is obligatory, if one is able, during the month of Ramadan in order to seek nearness to and forgiveness from God, and to show gratitude, atone for sins, and remember the needy.  The fifth is the pilgrimage (hajj) to holy city of Mecca, which Muslims are to do at least once in their lifetime, if they can.  As in culture or just about anything else, other than agreement on these basic tenets, Muslims belonging to different sects will have different names for them or different practices, specific to their sect or region.

We don’t go live and work representing the United States in foreign lands in order for everything to be just like home; such an expectation is really just silly.  There are many things about living in a Muslim-majority country that might be quite different from the United States, but with security the way it is in a mostly post-conflict, mostly post-ISIS nation, it can be difficult to observe personally.  But culture doesn’t stop at the entrance to our compound just because we have a wall here.  Sound, for example, wafts over the wall, reverberates off the buildings and throughout the embassy grounds daily, and I don’t mean the just the sounds of traffic.  There are several mosques in the Green Zone and nearby to the embassy, and of course historical practice and ritual in Islam is for the muezzin to sing out the call to prayer from the minaret.  Modern life means mostly this is done via pre-recorded song over a loudspeaker, and so five times each day we can hear the haunting, beautiful adhan, or call to prayer, reciting fairly standard phrases such as “God is great, there is no god but God, Muhammed is His messenger, and prayer is better than sleep.”  There is variation in what is recited, but it’s fascinating to hear as we walk to lunch at noon or home at the end of a long day.

You know by now that the majority of employees at any embassy come from the host country, and so obviously they bring their culture with them to work daily.  Our embassy has a prayer room for the devout to use, although it can be complicated to go there since it’s a big compound and can be quite far away from whatever office a person is working in.  So occasionally, I’ll see my faithful colleagues lay out a prayer rug in a semi-private space and perform their daily prayers and rituals, of course facing Mecca as is the rule (since we are actually just north of Saudi Arabia here, prayers are actually performed facing south).

Culture is a powerful force everywhere you go.

The World is Complicated

We all have stories to tell.  And what is history if not stories?  They are really a basic building block of human relations.  Here are a couple of stories that I find worth noting.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It should be clear to you both by now that the local staff who work for the US Embassy in some countries take calculated risks to work with us.  Almost all of my colleagues here with whom I’ve had this discussion have said they generally keep this association very close to the vest, not wanting to invite unwanted attention (at the least), suspicion, or threats.  ID badges are concealed, paths to and from work are circuitous, and security precautions are diligently followed.  One local colleague recently told me that, even though she has been with the embassy more than ten years, neither her spouse nor her father knows the details of her work, and in fact they don’t even know she works for the embassy.  Just imagine that for a moment, and consider that the work she does is not particularly sensitive to US or Iraqi national security or anything, and yet this devoted employee comes to work and does exemplary work for us every day.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sadi was driving a cab in New York, so the story goes, on 9/11.  As an Arab-American, he felt humiliated that the terrorists were Muslim, and he felt a need to do something.  He heard that the US military was looking for linguists and cultural advisors, and he left his family behind in New York to serve in Iraq.  A Palestinian-American and heritage Arabic speaker, he worked as a cultural and political advisor to US Army Brigadier General Frank Helmick not long after the Iraq War began in 2003.  Shortly thereafter, he became a linguist and advisor to David Petraeus, then a major general in the 101^st Airborne.  He has returned to Iraq multiple times since then, due to his invaluable skills and history advising the military and civilian leadership of the United States.  He and I struck up a conversation one evening over cold beers (this seems to be a pattern), and he shared story upon story from his time working side-by-side with Petraeus and others throughout his long history in Iraq.  I tried to buy him a beer but instead he wound up buying me one, and then he proceeded to launch into joke after joke, most of them inappropriate for this family show, but ultimately rather funny given the somewhat surreal circumstances in which I found myself.  Sadi is a unique character, and by all accounts is able to bridge the divide among the various sects and political parties here in Iraq, all of whom evidently will take his call even late at night.  I believe we are quite lucky to have such people on our side.  Perhaps we would be well served by his skills back home at this point in history.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Years ago, “Hamza” fled his home due to violent conflict in his country and was living in a refugee camp in Saudi Arabia.  He is a Muslim, but more secular than not, and occasionally drinks alcohol (incidentally, the word alcohol likely is of Arabic origin).  Living in a refugee camp can be incredibly difficult, boring yet dangerous.  To pass the time and find a way to entertain themselves in a country where alcohol is generally prohibited, he and his friends pulled a “Hawkeye and Trapper” and built themselves a still where they made their own hooch.  Problems developed when their source material, cologne containing alcohol, began to run low in the camp and attracted the attention of the authorities.  It didn’t help that his friend, probably the less bright among the group, made miscalculations causing the entire thing to explode, exposing their operation.  Not so funny at the time, they laughed about it now when retelling the story over cold beers on a warm fall evening.

Hamza later immigrated to the United States, resettling in a major northeastern city.  He recalled to us with a certain amount of wonder how, not long after his arrival in the US, friends invited him out on the town.  Shortly after leaving his apartment, he stopped short and wanted to return to his room since he had forgotten all of his immigration papers.  His comrades all laughed at his naïveté, for he thought there would be checkpoints along the way, or that random police officers would stop him and ask to see his papers as routinely happened in his previous life.  His pals had been in the US longer than him, and of course knew that such things didn’t really happen, and even it were to happen, the consequences would be few since he was, indeed, legally in the country, and therefore free to generally go where he pleased without interference.

The world sure is full of interesting people.

What’s Next?

Perhaps you recall that I’ve written about the somewhat crazy, always puzzling, occasionally opaque, and sporadically transparent process we in the Foreign Service go through for acquiring our next job.   The short summary is that we have a computer application which shows every single job in the world, both overseas and domestic, and if searched correctly, one can see which positions are available at which point in time in the future.  The trick is to search for jobs one is qualified for based on one’s current title and rank, previous experience, and future plans, and then actually apply for, interview for, and receive an offer for that job.  It sounds an awful lot like finding a job in any marketplace, I suppose, and in a sense of course it is.  And once an FSO has reached the mid-level or above (basically the third tour and after), we are no longer directed into positions by others and essentially have to go through all the effort of finding an onward assignment by ourselves.  Every two years or so.  It’s a stressful process; exciting sometimes, but stressful.  Imagine:  The world is your oyster!  The possibilities seem endless!  But sometimes, depending on lots of factors, you wind up with a Rocky Mountain Oyster instead. 

My job here in Iraq is a one-year tour (May ‘18 to May ’19), and I accepted the position in this high threat post (we call them PSPs, or Priority Staffing Posts, which are in places like Iraq, Pakistan or Afghanistan, or not actually in but covering the issues for Libya, Syria and Yemen) without a linked assignment.  Links occur when officers agree to a PSP job, and before they’ve even left for that job have secured the job after that, precisely because they agreed to work in a tough place.  It’s a controversial practice for a number of reasons, but in my case I didn’t have the opportunity for a linked assignment due to the timing of my position becoming available, and so I came here without that security.

There are a number of other benefits to taking a PSP job, but for me the priority was to be able to do the job I signed up for seven years ago, and to do it overseas.  All FSOs know that we are generalists and will certainly work outside our chosen field on occasion, but I had yet to work in my chosen field (Public Diplomacy) since I took my oath, and this was that chance.  My second priority was to be able to find a follow-on assignment that I liked, doing interesting work in PD and in a place I wanted to serve, based in part on the fact that I volunteered to serve in a PSP job, despite not having a linked assignment.  In my case, I had the promise only of “the possibility of an early handshake,” which meant that if I went through the process of finding a job I liked, and getting post and the associated bureau back in DC to agree to hire me for that job, they “might” agree to give me a conditional offer (what we call a handshake) in advance of when the official handshakes are publicized.  Formally, this was my only advantage in the bidding process, that “possibility.”  Unofficially, I hoped that having volunteered for a PSP job would carry some weight with the decision makers, but this is not quantifiable and can’t be known in advance, and obviously is only really helpful if I’m actually doing a good job while I’m here.

So I went through the process of looking for my next assignment like a normal human being, seeing what jobs were going to be available at the right time in the future, calculating the amount of time needed for training (language and the like), contacting the person currently in the position, later contacting the supervisor of that person, contacting decision makers back in Washington, preparing my Foreign Service resume and associated documents, finding people to write letters of recommendation, and on and on and on.  (Recall for a moment we do this every two or three years.)  The standard bidding season, as we call it, starts in mid-September (for those of us who transfer from post to post in summer months), and officially ends by the last week of October when official handshakes are offered, roughly five weeks total.  However, to make the process work to my advantage, as much as that was possible, I started laying the groundwork way back in April, seeing what jobs were available, contacting people to make my name known, assembling references.

About a week prior to when bidding season opened, I had what I considered a solid list of options, in places that fit my criteria, and for which I felt I had at least a decent chance of getting a handshake.  We’re supposed to bid on at least five jobs, but no more than ten.  My list included ten PD jobs in places such as Helsinki, Warsaw, Reykjavik, Tirana (Albania), Bishkek (Kyrgyzstan), Rabat (Morocco), and Maputo (Mozambique).  The Deputy Public Affairs job in Bratislava, Slovakia was our top choice for lots of reasons, and we were really hoping that my experience and our connections (yes, it’s now often about who you know more than anything else, at least to get a look-see) would give us a good chance at this job.  One by one jobs began falling by the wayside as a post would find themselves a solid candidate, and then email me with the news that yes, I was a strong candidate, but “we found someone we like better,” or a variety of other scenarios.  The day before bidding season actually opened, I still had several posts from my list in play and had received some positive feedback from them, but knew they were very competitive and so I needed back-up plans in case none of them panned out. 

Then on the day bidding season officially began, a new job popped up on the list that I had not known would even be an option.  No one did until that day.  I immediately contacted the appropriate people and made my desires known, and then the waiting began in earnest.

Once the season officially starts, candidates for those jobs have to dance the delicate minuet of deciding how much attention to pay to those whom we are courting.  A lot of attention to the right decision maker can be helpful to your odds; a lot of attention to the wrong decision maker (those who are annoyed by being pestered) can kill your chances.  The reverse is also true.  And of course it’s unlikely that candidates will have any idea which decision maker is either irritated or flattered by the amount of attention a candidate gives.  The hardest parts to me are not knowing how much attention is the right amount, and the waiting while not knowing how the machine is churning behind the scenes.

I interviewed for several positions, felt they went well and that I had a solid chance for at least one offer, which of course is all you need.  October 1^st was the first day early handshakes “could be” offered for those of us eligible.  The day came and went and October dragged on with no email notification of a handshake.  I vacillated between wanting to email people to check on my candidacy and sitting on my hands waiting.  I talked to or emailed people who are more senior and who know more details about the process, and practiced a lot of deep breathing.  Days went by and still no news.  Just then I took a chance and inquired with Bratislava, our top choice:  No dice.  Needless to say we were disappointed, but this was the game.  I immediately contacted another post to let them know that their open position was my top choice, and I would be very pleased to accept if they offered a handshake.  Lots of emails and text messages with my best girl about what to do in case I didn’t get a handshake at all:  What would we do then?  Where would we consider?  If we cast our net into tougher places (most of Africa, for example, or another PSP post), would a handshake be easier?  Should we consider DC again?  Is that what we really wanted?

October 29^th was approaching, which was the day official handshakes (distinct from early handshakes) could first be offered by the various bureaus back in DC.  (The bureau and each post work together to make decisions but the bureau makes the formal offer.)  Strong hints had been given (in particular one euphemistically, and unofficially but universally known as an “air kiss”) and I felt confident – but not too confident, that’s the ‘kiss’ of death, haha – about one job in particular (the one no one knew about originally), but still the waiting went on.  Four days before official handshakes would first go out, I received the email I was waiting for:  An “early” official offer of a handshake.  (Not complaining really; early or not I did get a handshake, after all.)

I immediately replied with my acceptance, and so now when I’m done with this tour in May 2019, I’ll head back to DC for a year of language and other training in anticipation of a two-year tour (with an option for a third year) as the Cultural Affairs Officer at the Consulate General in Istanbul, Turkey.

We’re pretty darn excited!

R&R #2

It seems like it’s been months since I’ve seen my Team.  Probably that’s because it’s been months.  Over the course of this one-year tour, I calculated that I’ll only see Kate for about four or five weeks total, and the kids even less.  This is one of the reasons such posts are tough, but of course we knew all of this going into it.  Some folks have it harder, particularly my military colleagues.  But FSOs get three R&Rs from Iraq, and number two is coming up next month for me.

Really looking forward to being able to celebrate the handshake for our next tour with my girl in Germany and Austria while hitting all the Christmas markets in Rothenburg ob der Tauber, Munich, Salzburg and Innsbruck.  And of course drinking all the glühwein, too!  Then I get to spend Christmas in Paris with my Dishy!!  Also some friends, and they are important and all, but … Christmas in Paris with my Sophie!!  J

I wish Tommy and Jenna would be able to join us, but the stars haven’t aligned for us this time.  Maybe for R&R number three in the spring we’ll be able to have the whole Team together again.  Already looking forward to that.

Until Next Time!

Well, if you made it this far and haven’t yet fallen asleep or lost interest, I thank you.  Sorry to have put you through all the rigmarole of the bidding process, but on the flip side if you read it all and now know where we’ll be from June 2020 on, you’ll have a place to stay and a Turkish-speaking guide!  Can’t wait for you to join us so we can share some tea, dolma, sarma or döner kebabs together!

All things considered, we are doing well, despite the separation.  We hope you can say the same.

US flag at sunset on 9/11/18.
Consulate General of the United States,
Erbil, Iraq.

The opinions expressed within are my own and not those of the U.S. Government.

Please do not disseminate widely without permission.

August Missive from Mesopotamia

A Missive from Mesopotamia

----------------------------------------------------

A portion of the Ishtar Gate in the National Museum of Iraq in Baghdad signifying one of the entrances to ancient inner city of Babylon.  Built during the reign of King Nebuchadnezzar II in the 7th century BCE, the original gate is in a museum in Germany.

Welcome to “Fiery August”! / ab al-lehab /  !آب اللهَّـاب

So you might recall it gets hot here.  Approximately 75 days in-country and the daytime high temperature still has yet to dip below 100 F.  And now we’re in August, which – as noted above – is a month considered hot enough that Iraqis have a special name for it.

It’s so hot during the day that my eyeballs can feel the effect.  You know that feeling in winter when you’ve been out in the cold – but not the bitter, deadly cold – having fun in the snow, and you come inside to a nice, toasty warm house and you have that kind of mild burning sensation on your skin as you warm up?  Yeah, that’s how my eyeballs feel.  Every day.

But remember:  It’s a dry heat. 

The Payoff

Recently I shared some rather harrowing, and sometimes poignant, anecdotes from Fulbright scholar applicants.  You both asked about the applicants and whether or not they were accepted, and unfortunately I don’t know.  That was the extent of my role in the Fulbright program here at post, screening applications.  My specific role here is broadly twofold:  I have the public engagement portfolio (supervising the management of six American Corners around Iraq, which are small library-like places housed in public libraries or on university campuses; to engage with our large network of US exchange program alumni of about 7000 people; and to manage our professional speakers program); and I have the cultural heritage portfolio, which involves oversight of grants from the Ambassador’s Fund for Cultural Heritage, oversight of the $1.2 million grant for the Future of Babylon Project, and engagement with senior government officials and leaders of cultural organizations.

But several questions have arisen as a result of the stories told by the Fulbright applicants, involving the upfront costs and whether or not such programs are worthwhile.  Maybe you don’t need to be convinced of the value of such programs because you understand the intrinsic, non-monetary value of educational and cultural exchanges.  But besides those positive elements, which are real and powerful, the United States definitely receives financial and other benefits from such programs, and such programs actually fit very nicely within the framework of US foreign policy and national security goals.

The idea of exchanges sponsored by the US federal government goes back to the years of WWII when Nelson Rockefeller proposed a program to bring 130 journalists from Latin America to the United States.  Then in 1948, Congress passed the Smith-Mundt Act, which intended to “promote a better understanding of the United States in other countries, and to increase mutual understanding.”  In 1961 Congress passed the Mutual Educational and Cultural Exchange Act (known as the Fulbright-Hays Act), which established a program “to strengthen the ties which unite us with other nations by demonstrating the educational and cultural interests, developments and achievements of the people of the United States and other nations.”

In the case of most exchange programs State offers, the bulk of the funds are provided by Congress annually as part of the federal budget (other funding and in-kind resources come from foreign countries and NGOs); exchanges themselves are supported and carried out by many public and private organizations in the US and abroad; the 500 or so employees of the Bureau of Educational and Cultural Affairs (ECA) in Washington are responsible for the oversight and administration of the “backroom” of exchange programs; and Public Affairs Sections at US Embassies and Consulates abroad manage the overseas portions of the programs.

Most of these exchanges – and there are dozens of them sponsored by the State Department – are organized and managed by ECA (the bureau where I was working prior to coming to Baghdad).  The entire annual budget appropriated by Congress for ECA was about $630 million dollars in 2017, which indeed is a lot of money.

Some results of that investment over time include:

• Participants from 110+ countries in all 50 US states annually
• 565 heads of government around the world have participated in a State-sponsored exchange program of some kind
• 55,000 participants come to the US (more than 9 million since inception), and 15,000 Americans go abroad, every year
• 105 alumni are Pulitzer Prize winners and 85 are Nobel Prize winners
• 64 alumni became representatives to the UN and 31 head international organizations
• $36 billion was contributed to the US economy by exchange students in 2015-16 alone

When a head of state or the leader of an international organization has spent time living and studying in the US, getting to know the culture and people, traveling around the nation to really get a good sense of who we are, they tend to become pretty good partners for us when they return to their home countries.  And they love to talk about their American experiences, even if decades have passed, for they are formative and often life-changing. 

Here’s one anecdote for your consideration.  Start by thinking of the population of Iraqis most at risk of turning to extremism (young males), and couple that with one young man who shows promise and is willing to take a healthy risk by applying for a State Department sponsored exchange called Between the Lines.  The teen applies and interviews for the program (part of the International Writing Program at the University of Iowa) and is accepted, then applies and interviews for the appropriate visa, and is approved.  He flies off to Iowa City to participate in a two-week creative writing program with other young adults (15 – 18 years of age) from the US and all over the world who speak English, but also their native language (Arabic, Russian, Turkish, or Armenian).  He learns, has fun, makes friends, expands his horizons and returns to Iraq within the last month, writing in his final report

            “This would have never happened without your help.  The Embassy

and Consulate were very helpful with me.  They made this dream of

mine come true.  The people I met there were very nice.  We became

friends immediately after our first conversations, they became more than

a family to me.  …. This program made a huge impact on me.  I learned

a lot and improved my writing skills.  It showed me that the key to

everything is FRIENDSHIP and LOVE.  It changed my WAY OF

THINKING.  Between the Lines was a brilliant, first step to achieve a

bigger dream!  I recommend everybody out there to apply to this

wonderful program next year, it will change you in a very good way!”

And so now, for a relatively small investment, we have a young man here in Iraq who has pretty strong positive feelings about the United States, not to mention about himself and his own country and future.  In addition he’s now an alumni of a State program, and we can stay engaged with him as he grows and matures, engaging him in other programs, and have him promote this and other programs we offer to Iraqi citizens, young and old alike.  Perhaps one day he, too, will be a head of state.

And then there’s the benefit in dollars and cents, which is pretty substantial.

I’d say that’s a pretty solid return on investment, wouldn’t you?

The Day to Day

Most days for me are pretty routine.  I head to my office on my seven-minute (walking) commute and arrive around 800 am.  I do all the things a typical cubicle driver might do (attend and participate in meetings, send and answer emails, plan future programs or events, that sort of thing), it just happens to be at a United States Embassy and often involves engaging with Iraqi populations (officials from the Ministry of Higher Education and Scientific Research, leaders of local NGOs, alumni of US exchange programs, that sort of thing).  We have a small cafeteria in the building where I work, or we can walk across compound to the large full-service cafeteria (creatively called the D-FAC, or Dining FACility) for lunch.  The routine continues until 500 pm or so, and I head back to my apartment to change so I can go swim a few laps or ride the stationary bike.  Dinner at the D-FAC again, a little baseball on Armed Forces Network or perhaps some cribbage (my cribbage partner is here now), and then I’m usually sound asleep by 1030 or 1100.  Wash, rinse, repeat.

I spent some of my free time with this
little project.  :)

Occasionally, however, I’ve had the good fortune to get out “beyond the wire,” off the embassy compound and out into the city.  So far I’ve been out for meetings six or seven times, and in late July was able to get out four times in one week, one of which was a visit to the National Museum of Iraq with my boss where we were scheduled to meet with the Director.  We spent about an hour discussing previous and future areas of cooperation (well, I just sat there as the discussion was entirely in Arabic, but I was essential to the meeting, absolutely essential).  Then we had a private, guided tour of the museum, which was super cool.  It probably helped that in recent years US State Department Cultural Heritage grants paid something like $8 or $9 million dollars to help reconstruct two separate halls within the museum, and further State has spent more than $33 million total toward the training of Iraqi archeologists, preservationists, conservators and museum specialists (among other reconstruction and preservation efforts) throughout the country, and some 3,000+ artifacts have been repatriated to the country, all since 2003.  We are committed to helping Iraq preserve its place in history as the birthplace of the written word, the wheel, and of countless other inventions and innovations. 

Strong Iraqi tea with the Director of
the National Museum of Iraq.

Marble face of a Sumerian woman from about 3000 BCE,
returned to Iraq after being stolen in 2003.

An example of a small clay tablet with the ancient
writing system called cuneiform.

A 'signature' for documents using a carved stone cylinder. 

Small carved masks, the largest of which
is about the size of a golf ball.

Clay tablet of cuneiform explaining
the Pythagorean Theorem.

7-foot tall example of the Code of Hammurabi, carved into black diorite and containing 282 laws, considered one of the first examples of written law.

A small carved face of a woman of substance.

A portion of the Ishtar Gate.

Two of the newly renovated exhibit halls funded in part by US federal government grants.

Last week my good friend/colleague/cribbage partner and I visited a local school for the gifted to see the facility and meet with students.  Another State Department program (the English Access Microscholarship Program) supports the English language education the students receive, mostly in after-school programs.  Normally, you would think a visit to a school might not really be a big thing, but that all changes when REPRESENTATIVES FROM THE EMBASSY are coming.  We might as well have been Ambassadors for all the effort they expended.  We found ourselves in large cafe-gym-a-torium-type facility, large airplane hangar fans and a handful of portable air conditioners trying desperately (and largely failing) to keep the room below 90 degrees, with an audience of about 75 tweens and teens, along with a handful of instructors and parents.  They had organized a whole program for us, which included our having to judge the artwork they had created accompanied by the English they used to describe the work.  And then there was time for us to say a few words and take questions, too. 

It was all very, very nice, and then all of a sudden it got a little uncomfortable, and not just because we were sweating through our clothes.  We were treated to a video compilation of the “Ten most patriotic American songs” on a portable video projector while just the two of us – the honored guests – picked at two enormous pieces of super-sweet sheet cake (each) and enjoyed our Mountain Dew (the kids would get all sugared-up after we left).  Each song was really just a small portion of the song and music video, accompanied by a little explanation.  Finally the video reached the #1 most patriotic song, Lee Greenwood’s God Bless the U.S.A.  In and of itself, not a big deal (other than thinking to ourselves “Who came up with this list??”), and then the narrator dove into the fact that this song really gained in popularity in 1991 during the Gulf War, and that it further increased in popularity in 2003 with the US invasion of Iraq. 

Um, yeah, that was awkward.  Fortunately, it appeared that no one but us could actually hear the narration, or they were so excited about the forthcoming massive sugar high that they weren’t really listening.  We essentially pretended that nothing was out of the ordinary, thanked them for their “warm reception,” and headed out to our waiting armored, air-conditioned Suburbans for the return across town to the embassy. 

The Archbishop of Baghdad

Prior to my arrival, a good friend who had been here in 2017 did an email introduction to a couple of really nice people here at post.  My very first week here these folks emailed to invite me to a small gathering the next Saturday.  Casual and informal, I very much enjoyed meeting Nazar and Wafa, both of whom are Chaldean Catholics and were born and raised in the region (Wafa here in Iraq, and Naz in Kuwait) but moved to the US decades ago and have returned to work at the embassy as contractors through their company.  In addition to Naz and Wafa, the other invitees included the Catholic Archbishop to Iraq Jean-Benjamin Slieman, the Romanian Ambassador to Iraq Iacob Prada and a couple of his employees, a handful of folks from our embassy, and a host of other super interesting people.  (US Ambassador Douglas Silliman and his wife came one evening for a bit as well, which was the first time I had met them.)

Wonderful spread of traditional dishes
prepared by Naz, Wafa and friends.

That first evening together I quite enjoyed myself while we drank wine and snacked on homemade dishes made by Naz and Wafa, all the while chatting and just generally enjoying one another’s company.  Most every Saturday since they have hosted similar gatherings, with a core group that returns for the good food and good company each week, including me.  Naz and Wafa have been on R&R the last few weeks, but the last gathering before they left was particularly fascinating for me.

The Archbishop hasn’t been back for a while, and this last meeting was more like a dinner, albeit a stand-up-and-walk-around dinner.  But the really interesting part was, as you might imagine, the company.  The Romanian Ambassador was back (he’s a total hoot and loves jokes, when he then lets out a contagious laugh that fills the room), but this one also included the Ambassadors from the Czech Republic (Jan Vyčítal), Serbia (Uroš Balov), and Macedonia (whose name I didn’t get), who also happens to be a Major General in the Macedonian military.  All of them are seriously nice people, very friendly and just regular folks; they just happen to be these really important people, and mostly I feel a bit like a fish out of water in their company.  To illustrate how normal they really are, a rather surreal situation developed as I engaged in a fairly in-depth conversation with the Serbian Ambassador about the characters, plot lines and dialogue of the television series Breaking Bad.  All five seasons.  I can say with absolute certainty that the Ambassador is a serious fan.

I sometimes have a hard time taking myself (and my role in this little drama) seriously when hanging around with the likes of such interesting and colorful characters, especially given that just a couple years ago I was teaching high school students about the three branches of government.

Fortress America, Part Deux

Photography on the embassy compound is severely limited, as you might guess.  It’s restricted at all embassies, but particularly here and under current circumstances of relative instability, as security for all of us is a premium commodity.  However, a couple years after the embassy opened, Reuters photographer Lucas Jackson visited and together with the New York Times produced a small slideshow explaining to readers what the most expensive embassy in the world was really like. 

I could just provide you with the link, but instead I’ll reproduce his photos here (sans his captions) so that you, too, can see a bit of what Embassy Baghdad really looks like:

This is the Chancery, the main building of the embassy compound, which houses the ambassador’s office and the offices of several other sections.

This is taken from in front of the Chancery and shows Annex I across the street, which houses the Public Affairs Section where I work, the Consulate, and other sections as well.

The indoor basketball court.  There is also an outdoor court, a sand volleyball court, a small soccer field, and a large grassy area (across the street from Annex I, above) where ultimate Frisbee and other activities are held.

 

One of the two gyms.  This one is on the other side of the dividers shown in the photo of the basketball court, above.  The other one is much larger and more extensive.

The atrium inside the Chancery, which is used for ceremonies and generally is the connective tissue between all

the offices housed within.

The entrance to the D-FAC, the mess hall, the chow hall.  They serve several thousand meals every single day, and nationwide the company which has the contract to provide food for Baghdad and the Consulates in Erbil and Basrah recently served its 25 millionth meal.

The D-FAC.  I have never seen the dining hall look this fancy, and the fruit has never been so artfully displayed.  Capacity is about 400-500, and there are several small “grab-and-go” cafeterias around the compound.

SDAs, or Staff Diplomatic Apartments.  There are six like this, and then there are several other on-compound housing options for contractors and TCNs (Third Country Nationals).  I live in one of the SDAs.

T-Walls, which surround many non-hardened buildings here.  About 20-feet tall, they are designed to shield buildings (and people) vulnerable to incoming gunfire (or worse). 

Tennis courts, which double as a small cricket pitch for the TCNs (or those who descend from cricket-loving countries) who play.  Mostly people play at night after it cools down a bit, say below 100 F.

(In the event you'd like to see the original source of the photos of the embassy and compound, navigate your way here:  https://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2012/02/07/world/middleeast/20120208-BAGHDAD/s/20120208-BAGHDAD-slide-5QAJ.html )

Thanks For Playing!

It’s been another eventful couple of months here in the Cradle of Civilization, and as we speak (or whatever), I’m prepping for R&R number one back to the family and TGSITU for the Wedding of the Century in about two weeks.  (Please have plenty of sedatives available.)  Tis the season, I suppose, and I have been fortunate to participate virtually in two family weddings in the last two months, which was very bittersweet since I couldn’t be there in person.

And while all of this is going on, we FS-types are hot in the middle of bidding season, which will officially occur shortly after I return from my trip.  We’ll see what happens, but keep your fingers crossed for us, and we’ll let you know what’s next sometime in October.  Stay tuned!

Fortunately for us, we are all well and healthy.  We hope you can say the same.

The opinions expressed within are my own and not those of the U.S. Government.

Please do not disseminate widely without permission.