One of my seminary professors has forwarded this letter, from a friend of hers named Sand, who is in Iraq on a women's peace delegation.� I share her first
>letter with you.� If you would like to be on her mailing list, there are
>instructions at the end of her letter.
God's peace,
Fred Wolfe
> > Greetings from Baghdad!� I only have a very little time right now to try
>to
> > send you information about the trip over and the conditions here in Iraq.
>This
> > is stream of consciousness writing and I will do my best to help you see
>what I
> > am seeing.� We left from California, LAX to Amsterdam, laid over in
>Amsterdam
> > for 7 wonderful hours and then to Amman Jordan.� In Amsterdam we took a
>train
> > into the center of the city with all of our buttons on saying Women for
>Peace.
> > I Couldn't believe the number of people who expressed their support of
> > Americans going to Iraq, to work for peace.�� We arrived in Amman at 2:30
>AM
> > and quickly rushed to vans that transported us out of the city. In the
>airport
> > at Amman were several women in conservative Muslim dress. One of them
> > approached me and asked if I was going to Iraq.� She was a Palestinian who
> > lived in San Francisco on her way to Palestine.� She expressed fear.� She
>had
> > not allowed her children to make the trip but needed to see her parents.
>Her
> > eyes were clear and direct and she blessed me for going to Iraq.� "We must
>stop
> > all this fighting," she told me.� "All of us feel the pain and it is too
>much,
> > regardless of our religion or who we are. I will pray that you are
> > successful."
> >� �� Another conversation in the Muslim bathroom where a woman helped me to
> > the "western style" toilet in the back of the bathroom.�� Another woman
> > explained what my button meant.� She quickly kissed my check and began to
>cry.
> > Welcome to the very intense, emotionally charged world of the Middle East.
> >� �� Amman was gently rolling hills with tiny minarets peeping up over the
>low,
> > white brick city. Once we were out of the city we changed to large
>suburban
> > vans and were on our way, twelve hours across the desert.� A cameraman in
>my
> > van explained that I was about to experience Mad Max Arab style.� Huge
>tanker
> > trucks blew by, some at 100 miles per hour, trucking gas and oil out of
>the
> > desert.� As we drove deep into the desert the blackness of the night
>desert
> > contrasted with the billions and zillions of stars. The sky was just
> > stunning.�� Five hours later and the light turned a pale, pale blue. We
>stopped
> > in a tiny "strip" village along the road and entered a long open building.
> > A "cafe." A man sat and warmed his hands on a tiny oil stove. It was so
>cold so
> > I also sat and stretched out my hands.� I smiled and he averted his eyes.
>We
> > sat at a table and ate a breakfast of very spicy lamb with flatbread and
>fresh
> > tiny cucumbers while desert men, with long caftans and heads wrapped in
>black
> > checked scarves leaned against the wall and stared.� Soft mutterings
>explained
> > who we were (or who they thought we were) to the new men entering the
>cafe.� WE
> > joked with the cafe "owner" about some Arabic words that sound like very
> > obscene words in English.� He understood enough English to know what we
>were
> > saying and soon we were all hysterical and the whole building was,
>briefly,
> > laughing at our laughter.� A very brief but nice moment of "breaking the
>ice."
> >� �� The border took 2 hours as we were processed.� There in the middle of
>the
> > desert we meet human aid workers from Sweden, Cuba and France while
>processing
> > our papers.� We were served Iraqi tea in tiny little glasses with small
>spoons
> > and lots of sugar.� It was delicious. An apparent big Iraqi official paced
> > outside.� He had the longest moustache I have ever seen.� Cell phones are
>not
> > allowed in Iraq, a result of the sanctions, so some of our group had to
>check
> > their cell phones, to be returned when we leave.
> >� �� The desert was just endless, hours and hours of flat sand, with
>occasional
> > rolling hills of sand and a very few Bedouins out with their herds of
>sheep. I
> > wondered where in the world they could possibly be going?� There was
>nothing
> > out there.� Nothing.
> >� �� And finally, Baghdad!� The first impression on the outskirts was
>crumbling
> > flat buildings of concrete and mud, and poverty, poverty, poverty.� As we
> > entered the city we passed a section of stores with western style wedding
> > dresses.� Colorful neon lights and white dresses.� It looked like Mexico
>City
> > Arab style.� The shops were all open stalls, some enclosed with glass,
>with
> > food, clothes, but no electronics.� WE came into the center of the city as
>the
> > sun dropped below the horizon.� After settling into our rooms which were
>so
> > shabby and poor, with dirty carpet, shredded furniture and a western style
> > toilet with a pink seat that fell off at the slightest provocation.� At
>least
> > we did not have to squat as in some hotels. How do they do it?
> >� �� Our first full day in the city left me with these impressions:� The
>Iraqi
> > people were genuine in their welcome of us.� They were friendly and warm.
> > Normal people on the street came to us with hellos and welcome. The
>society is
> > crumbling as the deprivation caused by the sanctions corrodes the quality
>of
> > life.� The children's hospital was heart wrenching.� Uranium depletion has
> > created a whole new level of cancer in children and newborns.� Tiny little
> > bodies with huge eyes lined the wards.� Their mothers waiting by their
>side,
> > waiting for the certain death that is to come.� This was a very tough
>visit and
> > several in the delegation broke down.� WE took Polaroid's of each child
>and
> > gave the photo to their mother.� The hospital was in terrible shape and
>the
> > staff was obviously outraged as they spoke of the deterioration of what
>was
> > once a very good, functioning, system of socialized medicine.� We have
>learned
> > now from the number of international aid people working here in Baghdad
>that
> > the sanctions prevent most forms of cancer treatment for the Iraqi people.
> > Here's how it works:� The Iraqi's are allowed "food for Oil:� supposedly.
>But
> > 45% of the $$ goes for administrative costs of the Sanctions program.� The
> > Iraqis first must make contracts with foreign companies for medicine and
>food.
> > Those contracts are then sent to the UN committee where at times they sit
>for
> > months and in a few instances, more than a year.� Then the contracts are
> > partially granted. If anything can be used, even derivatively, for weapons
>of
> > mass destruction, it is denied.� So, for instance, when they asked for the
> > equipment to draw blood for blood banks which they so desperately need,
>they
> > were given the blood bags but not the syringes. So the blood bags were
> > warehoused while they waited for the syringes (which have never come) and
>then
> > they were accused of warehousing the humanitarian supplies.� We heard so
>many
> > stories like this from both the Iraqi medical people and the international
> > humanitarian relief workers.� The humanitarian relief workers were to a
>person
> > enraged at the sanctions.� One of them termed it genocide. So many
>instances of
> > systematic depravation.� Vaccines denied.� People dying of perfectly
>treatable
> > diseases.� Pleas to send children out of the country for treatment.
>Waiting
> > for an answer while the child wastes away.
> >� �� The city is crumbling.� Repairs are not possible.� We pass what were
>once
> > so obviously beautiful gardens along the River Tigris that are now dried
>and
> > decayed, the arbors protruding like skeletal ribs on a dying carcass.
>There is
> > a quiet desperation here.� A waiting.� And an attempt to carry on. Last
>night
> > we went to a theater where a comedy was performed.� We could not
>understand a
> > word but it was so fun to see a live performance.� The performers were
> > astonishing, big talents here.� As I listened to the laughter I realized
>that
> > we� opps, I now have to go.� My time is up.. I will write more later. So
>much
> > to tell!� Love to you all.� Please work for Peace.� There is nothing here
>to
> > bomb but people, people just like you and me who only want to live.
> >� �� Love, Sand
> >
> >
> > Thank you for your support. If you know anyone who would like to receive
>Sands
> > letters form Baghdad please ask them to go to WWW.FREELYWESPEAK.COM there
>they
> > can add themselves to the mailing list.
> >
