Iraq

forrester_nz — Mon, 2 Jun 2008 18:17:00 GMT

This is a short piece of travel writing that I recently submitted for a competition at a travel website. I’ve been forgetting some of the things I’ve been through in Zaytun military base, and felt it important to put into writing some of the accounts I had there that may be of interest to general readers and travelers around the world.

From the bullet proof car I could see rows of concrete houses standing on a stretch of sand wondering what it would be like inside - whether there would be televisions, refrigerators or even a decent bathroom to enjoy the so-called modern prerequisites to happiness in life as I knew it. I had a feeling how awkward it would seem to actually have all those - after all, this was Erbil, a war-torn part of North-east Iraq that was slowly gaining stability as terrorist activities toll went down in numbers. We were here as part of reconstruction missions being conducted all over Iraq by Coalition Forces during the summer of 2007.

Just as we headed out from our guarded base into open roads of Erbil city, we passed by newly constructed apartment villa whose oasis-like luxury out of bland sea of sand caught our attention. We heard from our local interpreter, Masood, that it was a foreign investment to lure top 1% of people who were rich enough to buy a property there. Inside I could see nothing special - everything looked comfortable and decorated to meet high standard. I was more curious to see how normal Erbilians would live.

We started heading towards the villages in the outskirts of the town where I felt a certain feeling of warmth about it. It was in the way houses tightly stood together with children overlooking us over the walls and through fences as we went into each of them. I knew I wasn’t the only one who was curious. We checked on calves distributed, some beehives, and greenhouses.

But inside the houses we went in, the floors were bare, the walls were grey and the air felt cold despite the scorching heat outside that rose to 50'C. At one place we were served food by the old men and muktar, the leader of the village who were enjoying their food while watching television showing some old Iraqi drama. I thought we were lucky to be guests here with their food to enjoy and I found the television to be something quite lucky as well.

We were guests who came from thousand miles from foreign land whose customs were rather different. We spoke Korean and they spoke Kurdish. But I found a similarity which leaped over time and place to give me a sense of homogeneity in these Iraqi villages with my ancestral village I once visited in Korea.

As we were coming back to our base, children as always were waving their hands at us, and I asked my interpreter if we could still communicate with each other even after I left here. He told me there were internet lines at his house and that we could chat over msn messenger. I was quietly surprised at this, almost feeling some kind of betrayal at what I have just seen in the villages, and pictured the kind of house he would be living in. But I realized I was not free to do whatever I wanted here. We had to get back to our base and there was no more stop over. I just kept staring outside the stuffy car at the houses that were inhabited by Erbilians and felt how unforgettable this part of the world remained in my eyes.

Sell your seoul

Iraq