T Travels

2006-08-29T06:58:00.000-07:00

Well, made it back in one piece last night. To all my loyal fans out there: Thanks for following the adventures of Tamee in Iraq. After Action Report you ask? The greatest gift I have gained from this experience is a greater understanding of the great mercy of our God.
Much love to all my friends and family around the world,
T

...be it ever so humble...

2006-08-24T13:08:00.000-07:00

Other ways home

As I sat out in the hot Baghdad air, waiting for my flight out of that country I reflected on the journey behind me and the journey ahead of me. This is where I started last August- where I stepped off the C-130 after having thrown up everything in me. There I sat again dressed in my armor plated vest and kevlar helmet, watching the bats flutter around the barriers. Our little group had already waited 3 hours for this flight from the time we arrived at the terminal. Now under the camouflaged tent we were instructed to wait an additional 20 minutes while they loaded the “HR”. With the Black Hawks sputtering behinds us, I only barely caught the conversation and put my body back in waiting mode wondering what “HR” was. I thought of how long this “getting home" business was going to take; First a long trip to Kuwait, then a long bus ride, a long wait in the Kuwait Airport, a flight to Europe somewhere, a long wait in another terminal, a VERY long flight to the US; Then several days of out processing and then finally a wait in another airport somewhere and a flight to Salt Lake. “Wouldn’t it be great” I mused, “if some rich person came a long right now while I’m sitting here in the Baghdad International Airport, and they with their crew swept me and my stuff up, popped a sleeping pill in me and put me on a nice soft fluffy bed in a private plane. We’d speed our way across the ocean to the out processing, then (while I slept) they would do all my paperwork, turn in all my gear and speed me along to Utah where I would be transported to a helicopter and dropped off at my front door just as I woke up”. “Yes,” I thought, “That would be the best way home”.

After 20 minutes the administrator came and told us it would be yet another 20 minutes while they loaded the “HR”. “What is HR?” I thought. Then my mind turned to the day I’d just experienced in Headquarters Human Resources, dragging my stuff around with paper work to all the different departments getting signatures to clear my exit. That was a long, tedious, hot, tiring, process. Perhaps “HR” is a pallet full of paper work.

Finally we boarded the plane, not through the back like we usually do but through the side door. As we approached the door the administrator asked “Does anyone have a problem flying with Human Remains?”

Woah- “HR”

There in the back of the cargo plane was a long rectangular box with an American flag draped over it. It was an arresting sight. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. As I buckled my seat belt my first thoughts turned to the gruesome idea of what might be in there. I have seen horrific sites here in Iraq. War makes a mess of a human body. I’ve seen pictures from soldiers that were too horrible to keep on my computer and days after downloading them, I deleted them. But my mind didn’t stay on those thoughts long. I quickly turned to the scene happening somewhere in the United States- a mother, a father, a wife, perhaps children, nieces, nephews, Aunts, and Uncles, neighbors- being told that their loved one was returning home that week. The sorrow, the pain, the loss, the pit in the throat that moves to the stomach. I thought of the soldier-now a spirit- perhaps accompanying his body, sitting there on the plane with us.

The plane was very warm and all of us were sweating. The linguist next to me (also headed home) was very frustrated because our flight was not going to make it in time to connect to his commercial flight from Kuwait and he would have to rebook it. He was obviously frustrated and at times threw his arms up in despair.

We would first have to land at the Kuwait international airport to drop of “our precious cargo” as the Air Force air man called it. And then we would head to the camp. They loaded our pallet behind the coffin and closed the hatch. I watched as the Airman carefully secured the “HR” with straps, careful not to disturb the flag on top. It was a bright new flag. The red and white stripes were clean and clear and the contrast of the white stars against the Navy blue square was stark. It was secured with a rope around the bottom.

“On behalf of a grateful Nation…..” my mind turned to a scene in the near future. Again a mother, a wife, a father or brother would receive that flag, folded neatly in a triangle.

We lurched into the air for my last C-130 trip. I looked at the soldier across from me. He was sweating and hot and miserable. Then I noticed his wedding ring. He might be headed home on R&R to see his wife. I’ll bet she’ll be happy to see him. I’ll bet he’s tired from the grind over here. I’ll bet he’s happy to be going home. I reflected on my own selfish desire to fly home as quickly and efficiently as possible and then I looked at that bright flag draped on our precious cargo and my heart was very heavy. I suppose that there are other ways of getting home.

The dropping off ceremony was simple and profound. It was about 24:00 in the morning and we were all very tired. The plane came to a complete stop and all the engines were turned off. An Air force crew on the ground flanked the back of the cargo ship after our luggage pallet was taken off. Then six soldiers boarded the plane from the small door in the front where we had entered, and they walked down the isles where were we all seated. The artificial lights from the plane made the flag all the more bright. The six men stood at attention on either side of the coffin and as instructions were given, all together they reached down, picked up the flag draped box, turned on que, and marched with the coffin, down the ramp and placed it in a cargo truck waiting behind the plane. All of us passengers stood in respect. And I wept.

Dear God, I thought. This mortal experience is so perfect for what it is. This test is so real, so poignant sometimes. I prayed for the soldier’s family. That somehow, they would know they would see their loved one again- that it was not in vain, that it is all part of a plan.

As we lurched into the air and the sweat poured down my face, I felt nauseous and tired and miserable. But I felt. I was a live. I would see my family in just a few days. I would hold a baby again, kiss a man again, drive in the cool breeze, sit in church, go shopping, go to school. I would live on.

I knew I wouldn’t die over here. I don’t think the Lord would have let me off that easy. He’s going to stretch out my mortal experience until I’ve learned every little bit of what is needed, and knowing this stubborn heart of mine, that might be until I’m very, very old. But I didn’t really appreciate my gifts until then.

As tired as I was, the experience changed my perspective and my anxiousness turned to gratitude and a feeling of excitement and love for life. I will take this long tedious journey home and I’ll sit in airports and watch people, read signs in the terminal over and over again, try and sleep in uncomfortable places and positions and be just fine. I’ll be just fine.

Coming home mom, I’m coming home.

As a parting thought- my respect for military personnel has grown deep and strong. God bless them for their sacrifices. Until next time, I say a loving goodbye to the Middle East.

2006-08-10T01:46:00.000-07:00

I'm published!
It only took a year and a half but cool huh?
http://www.ncela.gwu.edu/newsline/archives/2006/04/new_report_esl.html

2006-08-05T21:56:00.000-07:00

My co-worker (Rick) and I were walking through the chow hall yesterday and we passed one of our US linguists. Rick recognized him and stopped to talk a bit. They exchanged pleasantries and Rick mentioned that it should be his vacation coming up soon. Towards the end of the conversation Rick said "Man, you look tired, are you tired?"
The linguist, with a serious, concerned and sincere face, paused a minute and then explained with a smile "Ah man, we are trying to solve the problem in Iraq".

I laughed out loud right there in the middle of the chow hall.
too classic.

Today our little group is fasting for peace in the region. Hey, if your going to ask a being that is all powerful and knowing and loving, shoot for the stars ey?

2006-08-01T05:50:00.000-07:00

A sweet little person sent to earth in the middle of a war ...sigh... good thing there's a just and merciful God to fix everything in the end huh?

2006-07-24T08:03:00.000-07:00

Pioneer Day

I thought about the pioneers today. I took three more foot lockers to the post office to send home and I thought about putting my junk in a wagon or hand cart and pulling across the desert. I would probably die on a day like today because it’s about 118 outside. So I’ll just let the postal service get it back to Zion for me. I want to include a story here written by what I’m calling the first Iraqi convert to the church. I don’t know if he really is but it’s a nice thought and probably more accurate than not.
He’s a real live pioneer and I’m honored to know him.
This is a copy of the talk he gave in church in June here in Balad.
I’ve not included names and some specifics for his safety.

Dear Brothers and Sisters
My name is ********, I’m born from Christian family (Protestant Faith. I’m ** years old (19**). Finished my high school in Kuwait 1978 and finished my college in Baghdad 1982 in that time there is war (Iraq-Iran). They get US in this war working with military Engineers in the army. I finished 15 January 1990. All this time I teach the Bible in my church (Protestant) for kids. We call it Sunday School. In the same year start another war (Iraq-Kuwait) and in 2nd August 1990 they get us again with that war and finished in 1991. After that our life began worse and the economy get worse in Baghdad too. Then I must find another job in another country. I find job in Jordan 1993 mechanical cars and get money to feed my family. In Jordan I see my old friend in high school in Kuwait. They are member in the LDS church. They invited me to visit them in the church, but in the first time I didn’t care about the church because I have no time for church- just work. In 1998 I returned back to see my family in Baghdad and give them money. In 1999 I back again to work in Jordan same work in that time. I see my friend again. They invited me to visit them in church again. In that day I had strange feeling to read the Book of Mormon. What in this Book?. I see the missionaries name is ***** and *******. They live inside the church (Amman Church) and I take the six discussions and in 13 Sept 2002 they baptize me in the church of LDS in (Amman Jordan). After one month I baptized my girl friend in same church in the end of month. October something happened I didn’t expect I been arrested from Jordanian police. It is order from President Saddam Hussein). We didn’t know what the problem they send us to Iraq border to Iraq police. They put us in the Jail and ask us what are you doing in Jordan. They investigate with me. They see the scriptures and pictures also I have money from my job about $7,500. in Iraqi money . It’s mean Dinar 15,000,000. They took it all from me and this money I have it from my work. They said this money from your friend in USA and what contact you and your friend from USA and those scriptures printed in the United States of American. They put me in the jail six weeks with many questions, in that time there is problem Iraq with USA. But this money I get it from my work. After this they didn’t find with me anything but they give me another chance get out of the jail if you give us ($1000) we will sent you free. It’s mean Dinar 2,000,000. I still have my own car. I call my brother to sale my car and bring me the money after that I make another passport going to Lebanon. Before the war I call my friend in the LDS church in Jordan. They give address in Lebanon. Before the war one month I been in Lebanon working there, and I find the church they had Sunday meeting. In September my sister in Baghdad she call me to tell me you have message from your friend LDS chaplain (******* ******) in USA Army. He want from me to return back to Iraq. He will help me in that time I talk with Brother ******* ***** he is the presidentative in that time church in Lebanon. He try call the chaplain about if I will back how can I find a job to work and get money to feed my family. First step I sent my brother Loay to Baghdad and meeting with Chaplain. He talk with him and he said we need your brother back. We can help him to find a job. Yes he find me job with RTI International (Research triangle Institute) in Iraq local government project. The name of the Team leader Albert E Haines. In that year I had two meetings with LDS church, on e in the National Zone (US Embassy). 13.30 hours with ******* ********* the leader team. In the morning I have another meeting camp victory Chaplain ****** ****** and LTC *** ******* all the year on Sunday the last meeting it was in the International Airport Baghdad. And I have another meeting in Friday with my leader team ****** ******** in the company one hour to make sacrament services meeting. It’s another story now he’s in Chicago Stake president and before he back to USA he give me a blessing because it’s very dangerous in Baghdad. It’s another story. And I have another story with President Saddam Hussein. In 1996- 1986 Four times I met him. Now this is my story. I lost my money and my car but I win in the end. I love Jesus said
For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also
Matthew 6:21

Some time I thinking if the USA Army leave Iraq in that time I have no church to go and if the ****** finish for here how can I find job and see my friend in LDS church. I pray everyday to keep my country safe and peace. I know this church is true and I believe that Joseph Smith he is the prophet in the Latter Day Saints
Thank you brothers and sisters

End story

I feel privileged to know this great man and I do not doubt but that he will stand with the great pioneers of old when the awards are handed out to those who sacrificed everything for the gospel. He’s secured his spot in heaven and will be the foundation God will do his great work in this part of the vineyard; this very old and beloved part of his vineyard. God grant that it’s not a nuclear wasteland before then.

2006-07-19T03:09:00.000-07:00

30 days and counting.
"30 days?", you say. "I thought we were down to 40, like, two weeks ago!". Well, we were but they recommended I stay a week longer to secure my completion bonus. One week for that much money is going to be just fine.
I've been more observant of the things that will be different when I come home. Sleeping with out the roaring of jets every couple of hours will be different. There won't be any helicopters with or with out big red crosses on them flying over head all the time. I won't be reading the graffiti on porta-johns any more. I will probably put on a different pair of shoes periodically and I might wear a dress to church. There's probably green grass and shady trees to walk around under and indeed I might stay out doors for longer than five minutes because the temperature will be about 20 degrees lower. I'll have to pay for gas and I'll probably be doing my own cooking and laundry. I won't freeze or bake at night because the air conditioning will automatically adjust itself when it reaches a certain temperature.
There will be children in cars and walking along the streets, holding hands with their parents and playing in water and dirt and grass. They won't just be in the hospital all broken and cut to pieces. I will be able to drive for an hour or more with out showing any one my identification card. I will be able to walk into any store I like with out someone checking me for weapons or ID cards. I'll be able to get up in the middle of the night and walk barefoot to the toilet, do my thing and walk back to bed, probably on carpet. I won't have to get up, turn on the light, get dressed, find a flashlight and a disinfectant wipe, walk outside in the dark heat to the porta-john, knock to see if anyone is in there, open the door, flashing the light on the toilet seat, put it down if it's up, wipe the pee from someone else off it if it's down, do my business, walk back to the trailer, get another wipy to wash my hands, undress, turn off the light and get back in bed.
I will be able to eat what ever i feel like eating for any meal I want, when ever I want during the day. I probably won't have to drink as much water because my damaged dehydrated body will be healed. I'll probably have a day off each week- maybe even on Sunday so that after church I can relax. I'll probably be able to communicate with my family to their faces and not on our family website, or via e-mail or delayed voice over internet phone. I'll have to pay for gas. I will be able to sit with my head on my father's shoulder and listen to him talk about life and the scriptures and I can lay in my mother's lap and let her play with my hair. I won't be alone all day everyday. Men probably won't stare at me all the time. There will be a lot of other women to look at. My laptop computer won't have feelable dirt on it after sitting open for one night. Everything that I buy will work properly for months with out breaking. I won't see very many people from other cultures and who speak other languages. I'll probably not be able to explain the Joseph Smith Story weekly to someone new like I have here.
And there probably won't be too much going on all the time and I will wonder why there aren't any bombs going off or alarms either. But, there will still be little lizards, huh? Did I mention I will have to pay for gas?

2006-07-14T02:58:00.000-07:00

I left home exactly a year ago. Now, I spent a month or so in Virgina in training and stuff so that's why I'm not coming home a year from when I left. I have to stay a full year in the country. But it is a curious time to think back on last year.

2006-07-10T20:39:00.000-07:00

As my faithful consistent readers may remember, Family Home Evening for our little LDS group here is a trip to the hospital to cheer up the injured.
Yesterday was a particularly gory night. There were no children and I was disappointed at first because we had brought stuffed animals, candy, and footballs. Although on second thought, I should be grateful there weren't any children. As we walked down the multi tent hall with ply-wood floors, a few glances into the rooms should have foreshadowed what we were headed for. Most were Iraqi men, mangled and bloodied, bandages everywhere and most were sleeping. We entered the 3rd ward and my first impulse was to look away out of respect. All their faces were cut, bloody swollen, and really what one would expect to see on some horror movie or liberal documentation on the Iraqi war. Most of us visitors were female and we timidly walked in. Our interpreter helped us communicate our sympathy to the first man and we went from bed to bed. The injuries got progressively worse the further in the room we went. Our interpreter began translating for us to a gentleman who was there with three of his friends. We all had a good laugh when after a few minutes he told us he was an English teacher and we continued our conversation in English. He explained that he and his brother were targeted for working with the police training program. They were both sitting out side his shop when a VBIED (Vehicle Borne Improvised Explosive Devise) drove up and exploded. His brother was killed. He began weeping in his bed when he told us this. His brother was recently married and a young man. My heart ached and I wanted to embrace him and somehow fix the pain but as a female it's "haram" to touch the men. I tried to change the subject and talk about his work and how he learned English. We moved on to the other men and discovered that his friends near the shop had run away from the VBIED but unfortunately, one had run to the second VBIED- a clever way the insurgents have found to do the most damage. One explosion goes off and the survivors scamper away towards the second trap. It makes my blood boil. He looked truly horrifying and although repulsed I rallied myself and tried to talk with him. He was good natured and we actually had him laughing a little bit. The one that put me over the edge was a fellow caught in an IED who had lost his tongue to shrapnel. After talking a while and hearing the interpreter tell some other horrible stories felt the blood drain from my head and my whole body started to tingle.
I used to faint a lot when I was a child. Any time I had a sharp quick pain like a broken nose, a cut on a finger or a tooth fall out, I would simply slip away to another much more peaceful place until I came-to on the floor. I once slammed my hand in a heavy campground door and found myself on the filthy wet floor with a big bump on my head, completely oblivious to how I had gotten there. I also left consciousness when anyone would play with my hair- just sort of slipped into my own personal brief coma. It was always strange to me but needless to say I know the feeling very well.
I thought about how it would look: all these middle aged injured Iraqi men, the soldier nurses, my fellow Christians all watching a perfectly healthy young female collapse on that hard cement floor. I quickly weighed the two options: I pass out on the cement floor, a doctor is called and I'm put on a bed in there with all the rest of the injured and then I have to write some incident report for my company to explain why in the world I'm taking up time and space in the war hospital; Or I swallow my pride, sit down, put my head between my knees, and just face the music when people see that I'm not handling the experience very well. I sat down and put my head between my knees.
The interpreter noticed me and asked if he could call a doctor. I thought- good grief, these men are completely damaged- some beyond repair and I need a doctor? I politely refused and sat there until I felt the life come back in me.
I went back to my English speaking friend and helped him get a bag for his things. We talked about Iraqi education and the schools, Saddam Hussein, the war, and our hope for peace. He told me more about his family, his children and his brother's widow. The rest of the group left and I stayed and talked and talked with him.
I drove home very sober last night.

There are a lot of little tiny lizards all over the place lately. I wonder if it's hatching time for them. They are just beansie- like about as big as the last joint of your pinky finger. There is one lizard - a normal size one- that lives in my female latrine here in our building. She freaked me out the first couple of times I went in there as she tore across the tile into her little hide out in the door frame. But now, I greet her with "Hello Lizzy" each time and I count her as a friend. I think she had the babies we are seeing. I don't know, I like the idea so I think she did. It's a nice thought and nice thoughts are hard to come by here.

A close friend gave me a puzzle ring that I don't know how to fix. He has to put it back together when ever it comes undone and when I see him. The last time he was here I didn't have him fix it and now I'm ring less. I've gotten very determined in the last week to put it back together myself. These rings are Turkish rings and he has showed me how to start the puzzle once but I'm not getting any further than that. I've thought I might ask someone to help me but then I won't be able to do it myself. I need to learn to do it myself. I tried putting it on with out it all together and it nearly cut me and I couldn't get it off with out great pain. I'll get it though. I will. I just hope I don't break it.

The weather is cooler- only in the 100 and 10s lately and at night it cools nicely to the 80s or 90s. My parents are on vacation in Europe and I hope they are having a blast. The days are, for some strange reason, going very slowly. It's ok though- as much as I look forward to coming home, this time here is precious and I'm grateful for it. Truly I am.

2006-07-05T02:09:00.000-07:00

I was asked to speak in church on Sunday. It was poignant being in this place at this time of year.

This was My talk:

I’ve been asked to speak on Patriotism this Sunday following the Fourth of July- the American celebration of Independence from Great Britain.

Understanding that we have citizens of other countries in our group, in the coalition here in Iraq and in the church worldwide I will broaden my subject to include some fundamental principles of the gospel that we can all understand.

If you would turn with me to the scriptures, I would like to explore some of the ways our Father in Heaven has helped us understand the importance of freedom. I will discuss the topic of agency and its’ important pivotal role in the Plan of Happiness, discuss how Governments are to operate with in the context of the gospel as demonstrated in the Book of Mormon and then I will share some thoughts about my own country- the United States of America and our work here in this part of the world.

Before the world began, in the great counsel in Heaven, our Father Elohim, saw us, you and me and offered us an opportunity to become like Him.
Pearl of Great Price
Book of Abraham chapter 3

22 Now the Lord had shown unto me, Abraham, the intelligences that were organized before the world was; and among all these there were many of the noble and great ones;
23 And God saw these souls that they were good, and he stood in the midst of them, and he said: These I will make my rulers; for he stood among those that were spirits, and he saw that they were good; and he said unto me: Abraham, thou art one of them; thou wast chosen before thou wast born.
24 And there stood one among them that was like unto God, and he said unto those who were with him: We will go down, for there is space there, and we will take of these materials, and we will make an earth whereon these may dwell;
25 And we will prove them herewith, to see if they will do all things whatsoever the Lord their God shall command them;
26 And they who keep their first estate shall be added upon; and they who keep not their first estate shall not have glory in the same kingdom with those who keep their first estate; and they who keep their second estate shall have glory added upon their heads for ever and ever.
27 And the Lord said: Whom shall I send? And one answered like unto the Son of Man: Here am I, send me. And another answered and said: Here am I, send me. And the Lord said: I will send the first.
28 And the second was angry, and kept not his first estate; and, at that day, many followed after him.

The exchange between Satan Jesus Christ and our Father in Heaven is very important in understanding the natural man and the purpose of life on earth.

Turn to Mosiah 16: 3 For they are carnal and devilish, and the devil has power over them; yea, even that old serpent that did beguile our first parents, which was the cause of their fall; which was the cause of all mankind becoming carnal, sensual, devilish, knowing evil from good, subjecting themselves to the devil.
The natural Man is Carnal Sensual and Devilish
Carnal comes from the Latin Carne which is meat, meaning the flesh- or weaknesses of the flesh. The natural man is carnal, subject to the will of the flesh; hunger, sexual urges, sleep and other animal instincts. The natural man is also sensual, depending on his senses for knowledge, naturally rejecting what he can not see or hear or touch, naturally rejecting the spiritual which is beyond our bodily senses. And finally Devilish. What does it mean to be devilish? We learn from the counsel in Heaven that Satan’s entire counter-plan to God’s plan was to suppress the will of the man- to force them to choose the right. If no one has the ability to choose no one will ever sin. If they never sin, he argued, no one will fall from grace, no one will be lost from the father, everyone will return back to God’s presence. This sounded appealing to some of our spiritual brother’s and sisters. But you and I- the people in this room and on this base, and in this war on both sides, coalition and insurgents- everyone on this earth who has a body, believed that this idea was nonsense. How would we ever learn if we were not exposed to opposition and given an opportunity to choose and then suffer or enjoy the consequences?

2 Ne. 2: 11 For it must needs be, that there is an opposition in all things. If not so, my first-born in the wilderness, righteousness could not be brought to pass, neither wickedness, neither holiness nor misery, neither good nor bad. Wherefore, all things must needs be a compound in one; wherefore, if it should be one body it must needs remain as dead, having no life neither death, nor corruption nor incorruption, happiness nor misery, neither sense nor insensibility.
All of us understood that we must make choices and learn from the consequences of those choices. This is why we shouted for joy when our Elder Brother Jesus offered to bridge the awful gap. For we could not learn this way with out being cut off from our most beloved Father in Heaven and we could not return to him with out the saving power of Christ’s atonement.
So we were given our agency and given a savior to pay for the mistakes we would surely make in this learning process.

Devilish, then, is the natural instinct to control manipulate or suppress another human being. Satan or the Devil’s entire plan was to suppress our will and completely subject it to perfection. We humans have agency and a will of our own which we desire to express. The whole point of this earth was to learn to bring our wills in line with the will of the spirit. Not be forced into it. God knew we have this devilishness in us .

D&C 121:39 We have learned by sad experience that it is the nature and disposition of almost all men, as soon as they get a little authority, as they suppose, they will immediately begin to exercise unrighteous dominion.

We need to be careful, even when we know we are right and when we know the truth about something, to not force anyone into compliance. There is a temptation to do this because we know that by obedience to the law the person will be spared pain and suffering but what we don’t understand is that unless that compliance comes from the will of that person, it will not help them become like their Father in Heaven anymore than disobedience will. They must choose God their Father on their own.

D&C 121
41 No power or influence can or ought to be maintained by virtue of the priesthood, only by persuasion, by long-suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love unfeigned;
42 By kindness, and pure knowledge, which shall greatly enlarge the soul without hypocrisy, and without guile—
43 Reproving betimes with sharpness, when moved upon by the Holy Ghost; and then showing forth afterwards an increase of love toward him whom thou hast reproved, lest he esteem thee to be his enemy;

This is very difficult for us when we watch a loved one choosing the wrong. We wish to bind them to home and family, to press them into the safety of righteous cages to prevent what will surly be pain. Can you imagine the incredible self control and self restraint our Father in Heaven exercises. He, knowing much more the price that is at stake and the suffering that our sins will cause both ourselves and others, stays his hand and lets us choose. He prompts, influences, guides and asks but never manipulates or forces the human will. As Hymn number 240 explains “For this Eternal Truth is Given, That God will force no man to Heaven.”

Sometimes, with in the throes of sin, don’t you ever secretly wish he could? Please someone, make the decisions in my life for I’m really not capable of staying out of the quagmire!

The song Imagine by John Lennon reminds me of this wish. There are some nice ideas here like imagine all the people living life in peace but a more careful examination of the song reveals a more frightening proposition

"Imagine there's no heaven It's easy if you try No hell below us Above us only sky Imagine all the people Living for today...Imagine there's no countries It isn't hard to do Nothing to kill or die forAnd no religion too Imagine all the people Living life in peace...You may say I'm a dreamer But I'm not the only one I hope someday you'll join us And the world will be as one Imagine no possessionsI wonder if you can No need for greed or hunger A brotherhood of man Imagine all the people Sharing all the world...You may say I'm a dreamer But I'm not the only one I hope someday you'll join us And the world will live as one"

This is persuasive because it seems like to take away differences, one would eliminate strife between men in the world. But the gospel helps us to understand that the very purpose of this life is to face the strife and the differences and choose the right. And then when we don’t choose the right, to repent and start over.

Imagine, if Satan had his way and we, like cattle, came to earth with no differences in skin color, no political parties, no different fashions of dress, no preferences in food or music, nothing to tempt us to sexual sin or artificial stimulants, nothing that would separate us from one another and cause strife, that all our choices were made for us, and we functioned in a sunshiny butterfly bubble world where we had no way to ever feel the deep sorrow that comes from sin. Where would we ever find that incredible feeling that comes after one apologizes to a family member for hurting their feelings and the flood of love that spreads over one’s body when we embrace in forgiveness. Or the myriad of other amazing learning opportunities that, like a dawning sun, come to us after we have walked in the dregs of misery and darkness.

No, we must know the sorrow to know the joy.

Unfortunately, sometimes the will or agency of one man or woman rules, instead of the spirit ruling it. Then Satan and his devils fuel this fire with greed, pride, and the lust for power and other human beings suffer.

We see this through out history both on a macro and micro level. Governments, kings, tyrants, and evil rulers have subjected their people to great economic hardship, physical torture and intellectual suppression. So called spiritual leaders manipulate the vulnerable to committ heinous acts, parents suppress their children in terrifying manner and managers rule with a heavy cruel hand in the work place. Perhaps each of us is not blameless, for haven’t we all said at one point or another in jest “If I ruled the world….then XYZ fill in the blank” or “If I ever get my hands on some magic controlling powder I’ll get my way”. Mother’s and Fathers must be careful to balance the teaching and discipline of a child with the molding of that child’s own will- careful to guide but not force. As Joseph Smith said and I paraphrase, “teach them correct principles and let the govern themselves”.

We are told that when Satan was cast out of heaven there was a war. This war we are told by the leaders of the church is still waging. Most wars are fought because one people or group feels suppressed by another. That group of people is squished and squished until they leak out somewhere in violence or protest. The European empires eventually fell to the countries that had been suppressed, and which pressed for their own governing power. The United States was only one of many. The countries that were longer suppressed, only broke away with more violence and blood. For the human spirit can only be held so long. Remember, each of us on this earth kept our first estate, we knew that suppressing our will was not the answer. As the Declaration of Independence so eloquently states:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.--That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, --That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. … But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.

As a student of Political Science, I have often marveled at the similarities of Mosiah’s Democratic government as outlined in Mosiah Chapter 29 and the basic tenants of most Democratic societies especially that of the United States of America: the electing of representatives, checks and balances, the rule of law, civil rights, and rights of expression all included. The Book of Mormon teaches us much about the role of government and our role as citizens of a democratic society: from following a righteous leader, to being subject to poor leaders, to fighting for our rights and freedoms and indeed to laying down our weapons and being destroyed for righteousness’ sake. The book’s purpose as explained by many of its authors is to show us a pattern of the last days that we might not be destroyed as the people of that time. The very mention of secret combinations, should sound a clarion call to our ears as the newspapers of our day echo the very pages of Helaman, 3rd Nephi and Ether.

The 12th article of faith states.

12 We believe in being subject to kings, presidents, rulers, and magistrates, in obeying, honoring, and sustaining the law.

Although subject to government we are free agents unto ourselves to work out our salvation- making choices and learning from the consequences. It is important that we respect the law in obedience and participate in the political processes as much as we can.

This is not an exclusive concept for western, developed countries, or modern societies. It is the God given right of each spirit child of our Father in Heaven. Each must be free, morally free to choose for themselves. Most importantly, in matters spiritual and intellectual, the mind and heart of each human being should never be manipulated or suppressed either by family, church, government or by any other means- including narcotic stimulants or depressants. It is so essential that the mind be morally free to choose, that most wars are fought for this very reason and indeed these wars are an extension to the war we began in heaven.

Our Father in heaven knows that by choosing from a variety of good and bad and better, we learn what brings us the greatest joy. What painful lesson I continue to learn is that although he has told us all the answers to the test, I seem to want to learn them the hard way by choosing the wrong and then patching and bandaging up the mess afterwards. Ah, but those lessons are mine- all mine and I have them deep in me forever and ever. What’s more, Jesus Christ supplies the tourniquet, bandages and in some cases, the new limb.

So Independence Day in the United States is about the American people separating themselves from a government that was not allowing us our freedom. It is a simple concept that human beings have fought for and are fighting for all over the world.

In the early days of the war here, in my safe little Utah neighborhood, I wrote a letter to the people of Iraq. It sums up much of the ideals of democracy and what a people should do with their freedom. It applies to citizens of any country and patriots of any democracy. True patriotism is in securing and upholding freedom while working for the greatest good for the greatest number of people.

Dear Iraq,
4-4-2005

Most American’s have watched in anticipation as our troops moved in, toppled the totalitarian regime in your country, and watched as a democratic system began to take shape in your area. We understand your enthusiasm for elections and your frustration with the timing. I offer some words of advice, and hopefully words of comfort, in this time of great change.

First I should like to represent my qualifications. Although I studied political science as an undergraduate, and have lived and worked in the Middle East, I do not cite these as qualifications for my giving advice. Instead, I recommend myself as a woman with human instinct and a citizen of the United States as qualification. An undergraduate degree in political science does not give me the amount of understanding that I have received from just living a life in democracy. A person could study for centuries and not understand what a short 30 years in the State of Utah has taught me. I say this because I want you to understand that anyone can grasp the tenants of democracy because they are common sense for all human beings. Yes, one must be taught systems and programs, but to live in democracy one only needs ones own passions, balanced with basic human virtues.

Let me explain. I realize that many of you are of the Islamic Faith. You have been taught of Allah, of Muhammad, the five pillars and some basic ideas about how God would have you live. Then your particular families and clerics peppered the faith with solid practices you have come to understand as things you should and should not do. You have either embraced these or rejected them. You have come to a way of living that is comfortable and right and you generally feel that this way is very good.

I am a member of a Christian faith called the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I, too, have been taught to understand a way of living and I have embraced much of what I have been taught. I live a pious life of worship on Sunday, modest dress, fidelity in marriage, and basic conservative ideals.

I know how it feels to see the virtues one holds dear, trampled and despised, ridiculed and rejected. The pain and frustration are acute. When I am informed by the various media sources of these, I cringe. Some examples include
- that same sex marriages are condoned by some of my fellow countrymen,
- the number of abortions in the United States are rising,
- an incredibly high amount of grain is used for beer,
- the number of people that die from cigarette smoking rises,
- the beautiful waters and forests in the US are being polluted,
- laws that protect strip joints and pornography are passed
- or programs subsidizing the lazy are funded by my tax dollars.
For some of the information I simply sigh and say “Oh well”. For some problems my heart aches and my mind grows angry and my pulse rises. I feel to put my hand through a wall at times. I want to hurt the perpetrators. I want to stop the problems as fast as I can.

I explain these feelings to you so that you will understand that when I see you on TV in large groups passionately yelling and demanding… what ever you are demanding, I understand your feelings. I feel the same way sometimes. I really do. “Why,” you say, “don’t you get out and do something then?”
I do.

I march and yell and rant and rave within the bounds of the law. You will find me at my state legislature, signing petitions, standing in groups and listening patiently to the opposition’s view point at a press conference until it is my turn to speak. I’ll be at the “meet the candidate” ice cream socials at our local park. I show up to open meetings regarding bills I care about, and mostly you will find me at the voting booth for primaries and for general elections. I am searching the website and learning about candidates and giving my money to the ones I want.
“Well”, you may say, “that is not very passionate.” This is the heart of the matter, my dear fellow human beings. For, the basic concept of democracy is the value of a human being. A human being (regardless of race, gender, creed, social status or education) is entitled to his or her opinion. A human may voice that opinion. And in a democracy, he or she should be free to do so with out fear of pain or death. You see, if it were in my power to rule the world for one day, or in the power of any one person to rule the world for one day, it would be very tempting to destroy all that I opposed, to crush all that I despised and to feed and nurture and uphold all that I value. This would be good for me and for a few others who feel exactly as I do, but the majority of the world would be destroyed in my effort. The issue at hand is religious in a sense. Human beings are not perfect. If one believes in a God, one usually assumes that God is perfectly fair and just. Most people, regardless of their belief in a higher power or not, will concede that mortal men are not perfect and are susceptible to mistakes and errors in judgment and action. No person, therefore, has the right to rule another. No one has the innate right to control the actions of another for no one has the ability to do it perfectly—except God.

So how does any group of people (separated from God) live together in peace with out constantly trying to destroy or isolate what they feel passionately about? They live in a democracy- rule by the system, by laws and by the voice of the people. Benjamin Franklin, an early leader and a democratic thinker in my country, said that democracy was the worst form of government…except all the others. There are times that I agree. To combine all the passions and emotions, thoughts and feelings of a group of human beings, and have them be representing hundreds and thousands of other human beings who, for one reason or another, have chosen this one person to represent their interests, then pepper the group with human foibles such as greed, pride, sexual urges, hunger, fatigue, sorrow and laughter, and present them with a law to decide, why, you have a recipe for serious complexity and hindrance or war.

Now, why would one want a recipe for complexity when one king or one tyrant could get the job done fast? One man could decide the law and demand obedience. Would not this be more efficient and effective? This brings us to common human sense. Each of you knows how it feels to be forced, to be manipulated, coerced and bullied. Some people become docile and meek, sad and depressed, and eventually unproductive when all the human life is sucked out of them. People were meant to choose. People are beings with agency, and choices are given in this world for them to sort through. Other people, when manipulated, lash out and reject the enforcer. These rebels are the first to be eliminated in a tyrant run “efficient” government. Rebels are impediments to order and effectiveness so they are immediately destroyed. Then there are the majority of people (as history has observed for many years), who quietly preserve their minds and lives by conforming to the will of the tyrant in action, while secretly harboring the sorrow and pain of injustice. Secretly they preserve their values, their wishes, their religions and dreams. Survivors secretly teach their children, and they secretly live as their conscious tells them. We know they exist because after the reign of “efficient” governments, they emerge with books, and media, thoughts and dreams of their own. Survivors emerge regardless of how many of their family members were killed, regardless of how many times they were beaten or how much was taken from them. The human will to think and choose emerges intact in these majority survivors. It always does.

Survivor rebellion nearly always leads to war. Suppressed human minds do not stay suppressed for long. There are many kinds of war and some times the same fight produces different kinds of wars. There are wars of possession, wars of greed, wars for injustice, for glory, wars over pride and wars for freedom. War has existed from the beginning of historical record. It is a very natural part of human life. It is natural because human beings are different. When differences are passionate enough and are not solved in an enlightened way, there is war. In the end most wars are fought because of three things: one, for carnal desires including comfort, food, sleep, sex, property, wealth and entertainment issues; two, because of differences of ideals about the nature of life, religion, and values; and three, because of the human desire to control or not be controlled—for freedom. Some historians have glorified war. The “pride of a warrior”, the “honor of duty”, the “glory of victory”, are phrases we hear to rally our spirits in the face of this horror we call war. But any proper feeling human being exposed to the realities of a war will recoil in horror and sickening fear. The brave fight, live and die and some win, but the costs are enormous and the damage nearly unrecoverable. Disease, rape, death, separation, destruction, loss, mutilation, fear, gore, and gut wrenching sorrow are the words we use to describe this solution to decide between the differences in human beings.

War is not always huge. Families have wars, communities war with one another, neighborhoods, cities, countries, and occasionally the entire world, engages in war. War brings such a devastating loss to people that the solution of deciding between differences found in war, soon outweighs the end result. Because when war decides between differences, more differences are sown for future wars. Gratefully, a new solution exists. This solution does not suppress a human to the point of rebellion. Because any suppressed rebel would produce war. The solution gives voice to all, and creates a way to decide and enforce the decision with out suppressing the rebel. It requires many human virtues but one more than all the rest—patience.
It is lovely to speak of the human virtues. Many of the early democratic thinkers did. They spoke of love, brotherly love, kindness, honesty, truth, good works, loyalty and compassion. But the thinkers were no angels. They were not gods. They knew their own minds and passions and the emotions that would boil and explode in anger and private wars. They knew that a democracy would run most efficiently when men and women were most virtuous. But they realized that the ideal would rarely win the day. So they rested on just one virtue above all. That virtue was patience. In America, a legislator may work his or her entire career to see just one bill pass, protecting his ideas and the ideas of his constituency. This scenario would require love, honesty, compassion but above all patience. That long-suffering legislator must endure the taunting of a media, the ridicule of his constituency, the pressure of those needing protection and the frustration in his own mind. He must press forward through years of trial until the fruition of his work is seen. He is a human, and at times, he would feel to take the issue to war. Killing ones opponent seems an efficient way to clear the path for one’s own ideas. But one can never kill enough people to build a perfect consensus. People are connected; they have family who are hurt, friends who seek vengeance, and followers who rise in passionate rebellion. The legislator would need to kill everyone but himself for efficiency. And then what?
Yes, democracy is the worst kind of government…except all the rest.

So I offer one small bit of advice as one human being to another. Have patience. Years go by, children grow, life moves on and patience will bring the cream to the top of the cup. With patience, what is good will win. What is necessary will emerge with time, and progression will come with long-suffering. Use all your other virtues in bringing order to your country but let some things go for now. Say to yourself “I will continue to oppose and fight that problem as long as I live but I will never break the law to do so.” I will never use war to decide. Fight when and where and how you can. Yell at the top of your lungs in the public forums, speak your mind at the polls, write with vigor and passion to your representatives. And then have patience and pray that the God of Heaven will bless your efforts.

There are a few decisions that must be fought with violence. One of them is the right to decide with out war; the right for freedom and democracy. Leaders who do not understand this sometimes must be opposed and replaced with democratic leaders. This may require war. But after this is established, there are few other reasons to kill.

Trust Americans. We offer the greatest gift a human can give another, and that is self rule. You must take it properly. We hope that you will have the patience to make it work. The alternative is so much worse.

I beg you to take our gift. It is given with the price we paid for ours—the blood of our people.

Your Friend, Tamee

Brothers and Sisters
I leave my testimony with you. I believe that Joseph Smith was the prophet to restore the gospel of Jesus Christ to the earth and that this great act could not be done in any other country in the world but the United States of America. That the United States with all its problems and mistakes in history is, in the end, the Promised Land, prepared and preserved for the work of the Lord. I know that its founders were men of God, their appearance to the Prophet Wilford Woodruff in the St. George Temple in 1877, requesting that they and their wives be endowed in the temples through proxy, is testimony to this. I believe with all my idealist little heart that regardless of how unprepared for democracy a country may seem to the rest of the world, the spirit children sent to the bodies of the people there are children of God with the same promise of exaltation that was given to anyone else in the world and, as such, are working out their salvation by exercising their agency. They must be free to do so. I know that only by living the principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ can societies function peacefully and therefore the greatest work we can do for peace in the world is to proclaim the gospel.
My brother recently arrived in the mission field. He was called to Paris France. On our family website our family has been joking about this. Daniel is the youngest of us eight kids and the most wonderful person in the world. He is truly God’s gift to our family and many others. We have joked that if the country of France has merited a missionary like Daniel, there is hope for all the rest—even the Middle East.

I again reiterate my gratitude to the men and women of the armed forces of my country and those working with them. I thank the Lord that there are people willing to fight for concepts and ideals. I’m grateful to be a born (as the country song says) “by God’s dear grace, in an extraordinary place.” I give thanks for the honest men and women of our government who expose themselves to the ever increasing torture of public life, to run our government. I’m grateful for my freedoms as a citizen of the United States of America and I hope with all of my heart that our efforts here in this part of the world will bring what every other war we have fought and won in the past has brought, and that is the gospel of Jesus Christ to the lives of the people of that country.
I leave this with you in the name of the one who makes is possible for us to choose and still return to God, even Jesus Christ-
Amen

2006-06-26T02:59:00.000-07:00

Chinese Water Torture

I don't actually know what Chinese Water Torture is. I think it is strapping a person on their back and dripping water on their forehead until the water erodes a hole and they die of--something. Anyway, the concept in my mind is long slow drawn out torture. I suppose that might be a bit exaggerated for my circumstances but nevertheless that's what I'm titleing today's Blog. I've unofficially started the count down; 47 days until August 12 when I entered this hot miserable, war torn country and I can come home.

In my mind’s eye I picture myself a year ago, absolutely frustrated out of my head with the Governor's Office of Economic Development, my application for this job just sitting on someone's desk in Virginia waiting to be signed and me kneeling my by bed at night pleading with the Lord. "Please God, just let me do this for a year, please let me have this opportunity, please let me go to Iraq and work, please please... over and over again I pleaded with him-every other thought.

I even told Him that I knew I would be weary of it someday and would wish I was home, that I would grow sick of it and frustrated but that I would ever be grateful for the experience.

I feel prophetic.

I'm sick of it here. I'm weary of the drag. I'm wishing I were home.

But, if you know Tamee, you are probably nodding your head. Yup, that's her, never satisfied, never settled down, always looking to the future for happiness, always never enough.

Picture me, my head bowed in humility and in acknowledgment of the sad truth.

I packed up most of my stuff and sent it home in big old footlockers to the tune of $205.00 on Saturday. Soon Mom will have a bunch of junk on her porch and wondering where in the world the owner is. But who knows how long it will take for it to get there so- I'm sending it now.

I was grateful I had sent it last night. The alarm went off "incoming, incoming, take shelter- code red code red!" I dragged myself out of bed, put my jeans on searched around for my shirt, got some water and my headphones and went to the porta-john before I nonchalantly sauntered over to the barricades to sit for the next hour. “Code red in effect- stay in shelter, this is the command post” it sounded 15 minutes later and then 15 minutes later and then 15 more minutes later. I was the only one in there by then. Everyone else had given up on the Iraqis ability to disturb their sleep. It was Sunday night and I had programmed my MP3 player with Consider the Lilies and Peace Like a River from the Mormon Tab. I played through the play list a few times and pondered life searching the skies for the sounds I was hearing: Blackhawks, F-16s, Chinooks, mortars, return fire etc. I don’t know. It was a curious background for the music. I had one of those “What are you doing here” thoughts again and quickly put my self back into “Iraq mode” and went back to bed when I heard “All clear, All clear”. I was glad all my stuff wasn’t in the trailer, I feel like I’m sending myself home in pieces and soon I’ll bring my body. Just get myself out of here.

God bless America. What would it be like to sleep through the night in a safe comfortable place, with indoor plumbing, electricity that is consistent, family in the rooms upstairs, church and government functional outside? Sigh… time to come home.

God bless the soldiers over here. If I wasn’t making more than my GOED year’s salary in the next two months I’d bail right now. They stay and fight the fight regardless, with no choice but to face it with a strong attitude or weak one. Yes, God bless them.

2006-06-09T06:53:00.000-07:00

Curious, life is curious.
I sit here day after day consumed in my work, fretting over little problems in the office, frustrated by excel books that sometimes balance and sometimes don't, annoyed when the power goes out in my trailer and there's no AC etc etc- issues that are in my little circle of world----while not more than 30 miles from here a 500 bomb is dropped on a world renoun AlQaeda terrorist killing him dead.

curious- truly curious

(ding dong the witch is dead...)

2006-06-07T03:44:00.000-07:00

I think when I was on the mission in Maryland in July and August of 1995, I may have been in this type of heat. That was a wet heat though so it may not have actually been this hot tempurature wise. It's unbelievable here. When you walk out side it's like opening the oven to pull baking bread out and you winse your eyes and face at the burning sensation. Sun glasses immediately are pulled down over the eyes to avoid blindness and one rushes to the vehicle to turn on the AC.

Our finance office is with out AC. It's in a sunken room and there is AC next door so with fans and me not moving around too much, it's bareable. I can't imagine being anywhere else for any length of time though with out dieing. No wonder they wear robes here. If I could get away with it, I'd wrap something thin gently around my naked body and hope that the cloth wouldn't touch me when I walked. Never fear gentle reader, I'm in my jeans and button down, sweating all day. I went home from work to a wonderfully air conditioned room the other night and not five minutes after I got there, the generator went out and the little trailer heated up like a tin can on the side of the Interstate from Salt Lake to Reno. At 01:00 in the morning it came back on and I was able to fall asleep.

This kind of heat would push anyone to terrorism. Again, never fear gentle reader, I have not resorted to such behavior (yet).

The AC in my little van went out yesterday and we got it fixed with in 24 hours. Not like in the states where you think, "Ah heck, I'll take the car in next week to get fixed". No ho ho ho, you don't drive around in this stuff with out AC- it's suicide. The nights don't give any respite either. My sister becky will remember when we visted Las Vegas in July a few years ago and thought we'd wait until dark to see the city when it was cool. There was no "cool". There is no cool here- either, ever at any time of the clock. Then people say "Wait until August", like it's some kind of joke" Ha, ha. I'm laughing my guts out, see me expired from laughing so hard laying on the ground shriviled up like the poor dieing cactus someone planted in our office front entry dirt. (Have you ever seen a cactus die from lack of water? Me neither, until that one).

So we stay inside and hurry from the door to our cars like it's a blizzard out and we ache for the soliders in HUMVEES out patrolling the streets of Iraq in full body armour carrying all kinds of gear- gratefully including water.

Sit out on cool green grass, late in the afternoon some time ,under the shade of a big leafy tree for me, dear reader, and send up a prayer for the miserable hot people over here.

2006-05-31T22:58:00.000-07:00

Here's the North Central finance team, headed out on another important mission through the beautiful, hot, dangerous, country of Iraq.

2006-05-31T22:46:00.000-07:00

It's kind of one of those things that you just check off the list if you work or serve in Iraq here. So I went with probably a good third of the rest of Camp Anaconda. I haven't been to a concert in the states for a long time so I'm not sure how to compare it. There were a few really fun moments when the whole audience seemed to ooze out the same feeling and combine it with the musician's on the stage. Every one stood when he played American soldier. I left before it was over to avoid the traffic but I can say with confidence, I have been to a Toby Keith concert in Iraq.

2006-05-23T00:38:00.000-07:00

One of the people I help here in my job was caught in an IED, and to verify some important information I was asked to make a personal visit to him in the hospital. UG! there were a lot of damaged Iraqis there last night. I was swallowing my tears the whole time. I put my hand on this man's shoulder (the only part of his body that wasn't fried) and told him thank you for your sacrifice- "Americans and Iraqis both appreciate your sacrifice". I asked him if he believed in God and when he affirmed that he did I revealed that I would pray for him. He was actually quite positive and generally happy- maybe from the morphine. However, he had some choice words to say about the insurgents. I won't repeat them, but I haven't heard curse words used more appropriately in any other setting here yet. I looked around the room at the bruised, bloodied, broken, and swollen Iraqi and American bodies on the beds and I just ached. I took care of business and walked out with my heart in my gut. I'm getting pretty good at this "no public display of emotion" thing.

Surely God will consecrate their sacrifices for the good of this country and mine. I've always believed that physically suffering earns some points in heaven-just enduring through the suffering get's you some extra points. I will have to ask the Lord about that in the end but I've seen enough of it that I'm convinced that angels flutter about those in physical pain. It's a holy place and time where the body is broken and there is only energy for the spirit.

I haven't written for a long time, mostly because I've been drowning in work. This new area has a lot of problems that need addressing and my perfectionist brain wants them done right, well, and now (or yesterday). There is pressure from auditors and new supervisors and people I'll never meet in the US- throwing down policy and firing people who don't conform. It's ok though. I have a comfortable room to myself and I've made it cozy with shelves and a fridge. I have friends in the church group, friends at work, and in the salsa class I teach. Salsa class is a riot, people are having a lot of fun there and it's a well needed break for me. It's no secret that I love to teach huh? I have friends at the chow hall, and just all over. I'm grateful for people who care about me and look out for my welfare.

I got really sick a couple of weeks ago. The evening before I woke up very ill, I went to the chow hall-- nothing looked good. I walked around the salad bar and past the main line with my empty tray and plastic ware, and then walked around again, and one more time, around and around, back and forth, with soldiers all filing through filling their plates. I felt like I would throw up if I ate what they were eating so I kept walking around and around looking at the drinks, the sandwiches, and finally just stood by the cookies. A KBR guy came up to me and said "Can I help you find something?" I told him I didn't feel well but was somehow hungry. He took me to the front of the line and asked the server for a small piece of fish and rice and vegies. Then he loaded me up with bottles of water and sat me down at a table and told a nearby soldier to watch me and make me drink water.

Now when I go to eat he makes a bee-line for me and asks if I have got my water yet. He cares about me- knows my face and cares for me in this miserable place. Like a flower growing out of the rocks (which they do here).

Signing off again from the heart of Iraq.

2006-05-06T23:20:00.000-07:00

Stress Ball

A guy came in the office the other day for some random reason and could tell that I was frazzled beyond what was healthy. I answered his questions and he left. He came back a bit later with three stress balls. They were in the shape of grenades and when you pulled the pin, it would vibrate. So I held it in my hand and pulled the string over and over again felling the vibration massage my poor worn out hands. I’ve been put in this new place to help clean up old finance issues. So far I’ve set up a new physical office (carrying much of the furniture and supplies myself or with the help of who ever I could coerce in to helping me). I’ve scoured through every scrap of paper in the office and sorted them in to piles: shredding, secret, timesheet revisions, travel expense reimbursements, invoices worth thousands of dollars and garbage. Papers that were water stained, coffee stained, filthy and rotting. I got very sick the other day and have been on medication for a few days. Who knows what bugs I’ve uncovered in my digging? I’ve recovered about $7,000 dollars so far and it reminds me of the good old days at the Department of Business and Economic Development where I recovered over 5 $M.

I had a good cry yesterday. It’s healthy I suppose. And it was private of course because we don’t cry in front of people here in military land.

Speaking of military, I was informed through the family website that my brother-in-law, Ethan, received the Bronze Star this week end for his work (and a specific act) in Afghanistan. He’s with the Utah National Guard Special Forces intelligence. I am very proud of him and his family. As I know few of the details I will leave that to his able and articulate writing skills and include it in another record on another day. But apparently my Uncle Larry (a Col in the Air Force) showed up in full regalia and the whole family was there. I wish I could have seen the faces of his two boys Leif and Isaac. I’m sure they are so proud to be Ethan’s sons. Equally, I’m sure Ethan’s father is proud as well.

The weather is very strange here lately and I can tell we are in for a scorcher. There was a huge lightening storm last night. It sprinkled a bit but mostly just lit up the sky over and over again.

My watermelon plants died- or what ever they were. It was not for lack of care though. Perhaps I traumatized them digging them up out of the place they had started by the port-a-john. They seemed like they would do fine there for a while but then just died. Moving is traumatic. I shan’t die though, never fear. I might wither a bit but I shan’t die.

It’s fast Sunday and I’m fasting. It’s very different fasting here in Iraq. The heat sucks you dry with in the first few hours of the day. I’m chewing gum though. I may modify my fasting regiment this summer and only go with out food. As the doctor has advised I drink 5 bottles of water a day, I think it would be wise. Singleness of heart though is the key. I need spiritual strength though and it’s the only way to work those puny spiritual muscles of mine.

I could come home in just four months. I’m trying to decide what to do. If I decide to leave I need to let the company know so they can replace me but for now I plan on staying until next April. I’ve found though that my plans are near insignificant when it comes to reality so I’ll continue to walk out into the darkness until the light moves a head a bit more. It always does, it’s just a matter of patience.

This is me at church with one of the military guys who was out here. He actually is at home now- lucky son of a gun.

The Sunday this was taken an Iraqi convert spoke in church about his conversion. It was a treacherous chair gripping story that I will not detail here but someday when the church commissions a book on the growth of the church in Iraq, he will be included as one of the first to sacrifice all for the Gospel.

I planted some perennials in little pots in my bedroom. They have started to peek their little heads up. I hope they grow. Perhaps that’s the key- just keep planting and hoping.

2006-04-23T23:09:00.000-07:00

I moved again. Not sure why I bother logging these events- perhaps because in the real world, moving is a significant occurrence. I supposedly should be in this spot for about a year. We’ll see. Something tells me I won’t, but …we’ll see.

I have a third of a trailer and it’s all mine for real. There’s no threat of being assigned a random room mate. I have interesting neighbors that although they don’t seem it, they may actually be harmless.

If you've ever wondered what Palm dates look like when they are just starting out in the spring, you now know.

The church I attend here has got me playing the organ and another meeting that meets later has asked that I play for them as well. Happy to do it. The instrument they have there has actual weighted keys and a sustain pedal. For the non musical out there it means that playing beautifully is a lot more enjoyable. I munched the back of a vehicle into a big cement thing in the GYM parking lot (the thing was out of my line of vision) and so they’ve unofficially given the thing to me. The radio and air conditioning still work though and it drives beautifully so…ok with me.

Work is going smoothly and I’m comfortable in my position and work load. I enjoy the people around me and I’m getting to know more people around the camp.

I taught Salsa lessons at the MWR on Saturday night. They have a much larger facility and I had to yell a great deal to be heard by the (over 30 or so) students. They told me that they will give me a head mic next time. Oooo, the big time. It actually is just a lot of fun and I feel like I’m helping people relax and learn to get a long in a constructive way. It’s fulfilling. I purchased some new dance shoes while in the states in Feb and they are so great. I walk to the MWR in my big old boots and then change into my dance shoes like the 12 dancing fairies in that fairy tale. I slip into another world for a while and then change my shoes again and go “home” to my 1/3 trailer remembering that I'm in Iraq.

I tried to find some pillow cases for the pillows in my trailer that were provided by the housing folks. The only pillow cases at the PX were Strawberry Shortcake and Spiderman pillow cases. I stood there staring at them in disbelief for a while and finally just bought two strawberry shortcake pink and green pillow cases and a red white and blue Spiderman one. My trailer room is a strange collage of colors and designs and themes. I’m not sure what to do with it so I’m just living with it. Nothing really matches. I say to my self “Who cares? I’m the only one that ever sees it anyway and it’s clean and organized and it’s got character!”

We’ll see how long I can endure the chaos.

Signing off from Camp Anaconda- my newest Home sweet home.

2006-04-16T08:38:00.000-07:00

An Easter Miracle

I really thought I wouldn’t have the opportunity to go to church today. Church was right when I was supposed to depart from Balad on a Black Hawk for Baghdad. We are having a finance conference here this week that I had to attend. Now most people wouldn’t think that missing church was that big of a deal. I guess it’s not. But I haven’t missed too many meetings in my life. In fact I’ve only missed two. My first week in Jerusalem, my host family didn’t know where the BYU Jerusalem Center was and wouldn’t drive around to help me find it. The second was last August while in CRC where we arrived by bus too late to attend the service on the Base there at Fort Benning. Two times in my life I’ve missed church and today was going to be the third.

I guess that’s kind of significant in a way. I didn’t even pray that I could make it to some service. I just let it go. While flying I remembered that church started at 2:00 on Camp Slayer in Baghdad. We landed at about 2:15. I hurried to the parking lot and noticed some guys packing up their stuff into a vehicle and I took a chance.

“Are you guys headed to Camp Slayer by any chance?”

They were- they were headed for the exact camp I needed to go. They gave me a ride and I arrived at 2:25. Well I had remembered wrong. Church started at 2:30. I put my armor and packs in the corner, rummaged through my stuff for my scriptures and attended church again this week. The lessons and music were on the resurrection and atonement. I led the music and said one of the prayers and got my little spiritual bucket all filled up again.

This morning in Balad the sun rose through the dramatic rain threatening clouds and where there were little breaks and such, huge bright sun beams shown down on the earth. Easter morning in Iraq and I got to go to church.

I remember a talk given by Elder Bednar on the tender mercies of God. Surely, my life is a testimony to this.

Happy Easter dear ones.

2006-04-13T08:37:00.000-07:00

I’m kind of down today. I usually try and write when I’m feeling good but here’s the exception.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m doing well—things are good. I’m just a little melancholy.

I’ve moved again. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve tried to lug my gear onto some sort of air craft in the middle of the night and landed in some place wondering where I’ll sleep. In the past month I’ve been in transient housing, someone’s vacant room, slept on a couch, another person’s vacant room and yet another’s vacant room, and now I’m in a tent waiting to a trailer of my own. I’m weary from living out of a back pack.

I was assigned to set up a new finance office in Balad and I guess no one else knew I was coming. There was nothing set up for me at all and all the stuff I needed was still being ordered or shipped. Pressure from corporate to get my reports in did not wane though and although I didn’t have a place to call my own, a desk or a printer, I kept my chin up and tried to accomplish what I could. We finally got the internet and I have an office and a desk now and I’m getting set up slowly but slowly.

I was able to get some critical materials out to our company and now I have to work through the rest of my duties as I set up shop. I finally have my own office though. I put a little label on the outside of the door

Tamee Roberts
l-3 Titan Linguist Operations
Balad Finance Manager

There I am.

There are no other women from my company here and perhaps I’m just feeling a little bit lonely. I met a girl in the mayor’s office and I ate lunch with her today. She’s in the army. I met another woman at church on Sunday. That’s all. I’ve heard that women need other women, just to talk with. We talk a lot about just stuff. We talk to get it out of our heads- not to necessarily solve anything- just to get it out. I haven’t had a good talk for a long time and it’s starting to get bottled up. I miss my sister a great deal.

There are bombs going off all the time here like in Baghdad and I never know if they are controlled detonations or incoming. We carry around our vests and helmets all the time and it’s kind of just “life”. Funny what you can get used to.

I went to the Hospital with my Mormon group of friends on Monday night and there was a sweet little 12 year Iraqi boy in one of the rooms. He and his brother were getting fuel at a fuel point and must have erred in some way while driving because they were mistaken for bad guys. He was shot by the Iraqi Army. The bullet passed through the top of his left eye, out through his throat and through his arm. His eye will never see. His arm was in a cast and his little throat had a tube in it for breathing. The leader of our group was a National Guard Army medical ophthalmologist and offered to make a glass eye for the child. I didn’t react then. I just stroked Mustafa’s little hand and smiled at him. Two days later I was driving past the hospital and started weeping. His life, schooling, marriage, children, job, everything will be affected or ruined by this horrible mistake of war. I just cried. Tears streamed down my face until I reached work and then I sucked it up so I wouldn’t appear weak to all the hoo-aah, hoo-aah men in the office. (Remember from past blogs? There’s no outward emotion that is acceptable here.) The boy’s father was there with him and explained the whole situation because the child couldn’t speak. Our linguist translated. I felt like emptying my wallet to the family. He explained how desperately he wanted his son to stay in the American hospital and how afraid he was that they would be turned out and the boy would go blind and perhaps even die in an Iraqi hospital. We learned the child loved soccer so we’re going to give him a ball for “when he is healed”. Twelve years old. I remember that time- just when one’s dreams start to form. Ug. I just have to put it in Christ’s hands because it’s too heavy to carry.
Just put it there and move on. He’s the only one that can promise complete justice and fairness.

I found some watermelon plants growing outside a porta-john by my tent so I dug them up and put them in a pot with water. I hope they grow. I’m sure someone was eating a watermelon and the spit out seeds just planted themselves in the rocks there. Hearty little things.

The days are longer and nights are warm. I watch a movie every night these days on my little lap top with my head phones on- so as not to disturb my tent mates. We have little wooden cubicles dividing the beds so there is privacy but I’m anxious to get a trailer of my own. Weary, I’m just weary. Not to worry about the world traveler. I’m going to be just fine. I’ve been blessed—really, I’m just melancholy today.

2006-03-29T21:58:00.000-08:00

I, of course, continue to get mail from my other life in the states and I got a very interesting ad a couple of weeks ago. The graduate Program at Brigham Young University made some T-shirts and explained that they would be on sale the next day at the book store. Well, I wasn’t able to attend the sale but the shirts were so clever that I requested they send one out to me. I sent a check and they sent me a shirt. Here’s a picture of what they say. I told them I would post a picture of me in it from Iraq.
So I’ve done my duty.
Gets me thinking about my other life though- seems a million years away now. I wonder if I’ll ever finish those last five classes and get a masters degree.
Speaking of other life, I hear congratulations should go to my brother who is in that life. He’s just been accepted to the graduate program at BYU. Good Luck brother. BYU is lucky to have you.

2006-03-19T01:36:00.000-08:00

It was a perfect Saturday this weekend-complete with yard work around the office. Someone secured a lawn mower and weed eater and we "went to town" This is my co-worker working very hard; green grass in Iraq- very new sight. It's lovely up in this Northern town. So the beautiful smell of fresh cut grass fills the air, little buds are popping out on the trees, bugs are crawling all over place. They have huge ants here and huger (sic) ant hills.
Birds are chirping the sun is shining and it is SPRING!
We’ve had a few incidents of mortar in the camp as the insurgents continue their futile fight against democracy. I’m content though and at peace. It’s curious that the Lord continues to let the sun rise, the flowers bloom and the world begin again each year and each day when there is so much of disobedience. But that is His mercy. I’ve begun reading a book called A Peace to End All Peace: The Fall of the Ottoman Empire and the Creation of the Modern Middle East. Boy, war is complicated! It’s the details of World War I and how the decisions made then have rippled to our time and like waves on the ocean are huge crashing forces against the shores of our time; fascinating. It makes a person reflect a little bit more on the seemingly small decisions we make today in our individual and collective lives. For what we do now will certainly affect the future.
The future looks bright these days though. I love working with the Iraqi’s and mlitary personnel in our area and learning about my new environment.

2006-03-08T23:56:00.000-08:00

There is an eerie sand storm today here in Iraq. It blew and blew and blew this morning. I was wrapped up in my blankets in my little trailer listening to it wishing I had my dad to hold me. It was kind of scary. After blowing a ton, the sky turned yellow and the air was thick with dust. I stayed inside as long as I could until my ride came and got me. As we drove the wind rocked the vehicle and there were little rain drops that plopped mud on the window. I’m now looking out the office window to a yellow world. Visibility is limited as the dust is blowing everywhere. It’s very strange. It feels cozy like a snow storm but it’s warm and dry--never a dull moment in Iraq.
I’ve been moved yet again to a Northern City in the country and it’s a lot prettier here. Maybe It’s prettier everywhere but I haven’t seen it. It’s green here. They have two lawn mowers AND they use them. There are pretty flowers and hills and it’s just nicer. I think it just confirms that I’m a mountain girl after all. I’m doing the same kind of stuff that I was doing before just not as much responsibility as I am the assistant to the finance manager here. He’s been asking for an assistant for a long time and I’m it.

Home seems a million miles away again and although I think a part of me was traumatized having to leave again, I’m really ok. I felt a little bit torn apart inside leaving my mother and father this time. Not sure why. It was just more emotional. I think when I came here the first time I was headed for adventure and the unknown and because I didn’t know what I was going in to, I could imagine it was so much better than what I was leaving. But this time I knew exactly the ratio and I struggled weighing the options. I came back though. The reasons are complicated and I’m still trying to figure them out myself. By the time I figure out that I really should come back here, I may have my 9 month bonus in pocket. My mind sometimes is a little slower catching up to my body; decisions, decisions. Ones decisions determine ones life you know, so one must be careful what one chooses- the paths lead to paths and soon there is no going back to make a different choice. I believe Robert Frost expressed it best. So two roads diverged on Feb 26 and I chose the one that brought me back to Iraq. I wonder if I will ever have the choice to stay home from an adventure again. We’ll see.

2006-02-28T22:33:00.000-08:00

Back in Iraq. What a trip. Kills ya.
Sleep is the key. Just need some sleep.
until I have more energy, adios.

2006-02-19T13:52:00.000-08:00

I had a great time skiing with the family!

2006-02-16T07:00:00.000-08:00

I'm really quite shocked at the media here in the United States. I'm not really sure what their agenda is. Some people have told me that they are liberal biased, or they wouldn't want to report something in support of President Bush, or that they are trying to make money and negative sells.
What ever "they" are trying to avoid or accomplish, they are not telling the whole story, in fact, if perception is reality, they are not telling the truth. Perhaps I (as and idealist) expect them to want to help in this world, or to contribute to solutions to problems, like the media in my perfect world would do. They are neither helping or presenting a path for solutions, but in fact, are so negative and pessimistic, they are fueling an otherwise douse-able flame with what amounts to be information gasoline. They seems to hunt for the most heinous, most isolated, frustrating, miserable stories in all of Iraq and they pull them out, shine them up, give them full life and parade them before the entire world as a representation of what is happening in Iraq. No stories of the civil affairs troops in schools, orphanages, universities or homes, no information on the progress of the Iraqi police, military and border control troops training, nothing on environmental progress in the marsh lands, the increasing stability of the banks in Iraq or the general mood swing among the people in support of democracy. NADA.
I'm sickened, truly sickened. I've spent the last few days at doctors, dentists, and church explaining what I've seen and heard from military and Iraqis in the actual country. My only consolation is that the good people are not on the news. I fear for the lives of anyone that gets their face on the screen--they become a target. So I guess we (the ones doing good in Iraq) will just remain anonymous (like the scriptures says) our good works done in secret will be rewarded openly. The scriptures also say "Thou shalt not bare false witness" so I suppose those touting the negative perceptions and spins will be punished. My deepest regret is that their inflammation of the negative is costing the lives of not only the military personnel and US contractors but innocent Iraqis caught in the ignorant crowds that gather to protest. I wish the ignorant masses knew who the real enemy was- the liberal biased American Media.

2006-02-12T06:56:00.000-08:00

Pillow Top Mattress with Comforter.

The first night I climbed into my very own trundle bed (the one I got when I was 12) and wrapped the comforter and five pillows all around me, I let out a few "Oh, Oh, Ahs". That journey home from Iraq is a killer. Sleep deprivation does strange things to a body and I for one am glad it's over. I'll say this much though, the Denver Airport was very well planned. I wouldn't mind flying in there from an international flight, any time.
I spent yesterday with the nieces and nephews, making Valentine's boxes, (from the shoe boxes I had after going shopping [tee hee hee]). I do have a lot of nieces and nephews and I do have a lot of shoes now. Yes, I've stimulated the economy a bit here. Seems like life is clipping along here nicely. The babies are bigger, the children are smarter, the adults still doing projects. I had a lot of packages of things I've purchased and had send home and I've managed to assimilate them all in to the room my mother has assigned to me for my stuff. I can see the floor in there now. It's probably time to buy a house. (ok, ok)
It's pretty darn cold here but the snow is only here in patches. I hope I see a good snowstorm while I'm here.
Life is good glad to be alive and with the family.

2006-02-07T04:56:00.000-08:00

I have WAY too much time on my hands for some one who has been as busy as i have been for the last 6 months.
I got on a C-130 again... and went back to Kuwait again... only this time I'm going home.
I don't have any pictures because I'm sitting at a Cyber cafe so sorry if this is boring. I wonder who all of you are anyway--all my loyal fans out there.
I'll load some pictures of the slopes here in a few days and me with neices and nephews. Right now I'm chatting on line with a person I love and updating my blog.
so there. The traveling Tamee saga continues.

2006-01-31T01:19:00.000-08:00

I’m coming up on 6 months here in theater, which means a couple of things. Vacation is coming up, a 6-month completion payment is coming up and my mind is trying to get around the idea that I’ve been here this long. I’ve got some extra time because right now I’m transitioning to the gal who will be covering for me while I’m gone. I’m amazed at how much I’ve learned these past 5 months or so working here. I keep pulling answers out of my brain for issues that come up. I’m the authority. It’s satisfying in a way but I’m feeling the same way I did that last week in June with the Governor’s Office of Economic Development in the State of Utah when I was desperately trying to train the new women taking my place. She was overwhelmed and I learned later (when I got out here) that she couldn’t do the job after all that and she was let go. There’s a degree of parental instinct that kicks in with this kind of stuff. You put your heart and soul into a job, cleaning up problems you inherited, adding better methods, organizing materials and developing relationships with contacts and all of a sudden you hand the pile over to someone else?
Scary
If a worker goes through this enough I can imagine that it would make a person approach a job with some level of distance-keeping the person from really pouring every thing into it. Being fired must be traumatic. Leaving a job willingly, or even going on vacation is a bit unnerving.
I must say that, the gal who I’m training is going to do just fine, though and I’m confident in her abilities, so that helps.
I’m very excited to see the family and go skiing. I can feel myself going a little crazy lately.

Here's a picture of me going crazy

I think about the guys out here that don’t take their 6 month vacation and I just feel sorry for them. One guy told me that he wasn’t going home because he didn’t want to say good bye again. It’s sweet to think of him being that affected by departures but I can’t help thinking of his loved ones, that are probably very much wanting to see him, and because he loves them so much he’s not going to see them…?
I think about another employee that came in here all angry and frustrated wanting to resign. He had been here 11 months. ELEVEN months, and he was “tired” and “frustrated” and wanted to go home. We begged and pleaded with him. “Listen” we told him, “If you go home with out finishing your year, the company won’t pay for your ticket, and you won’t get your $10,000 completion payment” and that last month of pay you won’t get. It will cost you about $20,000. Just stay four more weeks. He wouldn’t. He was going crazy. My last question was “did you take your vacation?” and guess what? He hadn’t.
So I’m being a good girl. It’s painful to think of getting on that plane at the end of February hugging the little nieces and nephews goodbye, kissing mom and dad, brothers and sisters and grandparents all over again and flying over here for another 6 months but I’m going to do it for my sanity and for my family.
Besides, my brother and I have planned a great skiing weekend up in the mountains and I’m not going to miss that.

2006-01-24T07:34:00.000-08:00

Oh the contrast!

I can not divulge the particulars (or I would have to kill you) but last week I found myself on a C-130 again headed to Kuwait for a finance conference. Our corporation put us up in the Sheraton hotel and asked that we dress appropriately for the several meetings we would attend and present at. I was hard pressed trying to figure out what on earth to pack from my wardrobe which consists of mostly jeans, camo pants and t-shirts. I took a pair of black pants and the suit jacket I had brought (for just such occasions) and a white (or what used to be white) button down collar shirt. I promised myself that I would secure some decent dress shoes at a store there. I stuffed everything into one back pack (I’m getting better at this) and didn’t eat a blessed thing for the entire morning before we left (thanks to my first experience on a C-130—see first Blog). I’m learning.

Dick Cheney was in Kuwait City during our stay there for the Emir’s funeral and they had blocked off some of the main highways (for security purposes). I can’t help thinking about what these foreign countries must think of us Americans who completely interrupt their lives when we descend upon them. We parked on the highway for a very long time and finally got to the hotel down town. WOAH- SWEET! A whole big old bed to myself with four pillows, a little fridge with yummies in it, an incredible view of the Persian Gulf and civilization all around. The vehicles in that country are all new and all expensive. The homes elegant and huge, the streets clean and organized, yards manicured and people nicely dressed. I dashed to the market across the street before our meeting began the next morning and got myself some “plastic” leather shoes. It was my first real experience with the Kuwaiti dinar which is very strong against the dollar ($1= KD 0.29). I finagled a plastic watch with the shoes out of my twenty dollar bill and rushed to our meeting. My feet are still in pain from the day I wore those shoes-yikes. In the hotel there were men in man dresses and Kafias, men in suits, women in dress suits, women in burkas, Europeans, Africans, Americans and Asians. The hotel was elegant with crown molding and lavish curtains in the lobby. I had dinner at the Hard Rock Café, went to the mall, bought real leather shoes, visited the Kuwaiti needle towers, took a cab around town, slept and ate and worked. I bought some gold in the gold market, shirts in the Indian market, lunch and more clothes at the mall and kind of didn’t stop buying stuff until we all left. (yikes) I kept wanting to pinch myself to make sure I was awake. The contrast was drastic.

The last night we spent there we had to leave for the military flight at 12:00 at night to go through nearly 7 hours of military bureaucracy before we flew out of Kuwait to Iraq at some ridiculous hour of the morning. I suddenly found myself (having not showered, not slept, not eaten and freezing cold as the temperature dropped way low that night) laying on a wooden bench in a military tent waiting for a flight. Again, I wanted to pinch myself because I was unsure if I had actually been as comfortable as I remembered I had been just the night before in the hotel. The flight was miserable and cold and I had to pee so badly I thought maybe I would just die on the flight. I made it again though- alive and well, back “home”. The BIAP actually felt like home. I slept in my bed that night and wondered again if I actually had been in a very different and comfortable place only two nights before.
I think it actually happened though because these incredible bills are hitting my bank account with little extra conversion fees attached. Yikes. I think when I vacation, I’ll head to a poorer country- we darn Americans.

2006-01-10T03:58:00.000-08:00

Baghdad + Rain = MUD!

You know that song that sings “I hold it up and show my buddies like we ain’t scared and our boots ain’t muddy…”
I kept thinking “What on earth is he talking about- it’s “Our boots are dusty”
But now Tamee has been sorely educated. There is a reason why we pave our roads in civilized areas; this incredible mud! It’s dark and rich and looks like chocolate here. The troops and civilians and TCNs tromp through it on the way to…well, everywhere. Cars are filthy, roads covered in brown muck, it splashes on walls, curbs, houses, vehicles, parking lots, barricades, trees - everything. Like Willy Wonka’s factory blew up on the camp.
I was standing in line for a sandwich at the DFAC and a soldier asked me how I kept so clean. I told him I make a conscious effort to avoid it. What he doesn’t know is I daintily tip toe through the parking lots around and around like a drunk bee walking on the rocks and less muddy places. But still I get home and it’s creeping up my pants. It just appears. It’s alive I think- it is reproducing and spreading and seems to find its way onto the strangest places.
I sweep the floor twice a day in our office. My goal is to just stay ahead of it. In all the public buildings they’ve got cardboard boxes opened on the floors outside and half way into the building and they are covered in filth. I wash out my shoes each night and by morning they are all dry and ready to get dirty again. I should haul out my DCU boots and get them muddy but they hurt me feet (see firsts blog on CRC).
It’s actually quite fun and every once in a while some soldier or civilian remembers his teenage years and rips through a huge lake of a puddle in an up-armoured HUMVEE or SUV and thick chocolaty muddy water coats the entire vehicle and splashes huge waves of mud up into the air, slipping and sliding. What a riot!

2005-12-31T07:15:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year Everyone.

Let's pretend this is the Happy New Year Chair instead of Saddam's throne in the Al Faw Palace. Just 'cause it makes me a little sick to think that I sat where he sat. Actually he should feel priviledge that such a good person was able to grace this poor deprived (and probably abused) piece of furniture.

2005-12-28T07:23:00.000-08:00

I finished the Book of Mormon! (again) I'm not sure how many times I've read it-- dozens of times perhaps. But of course there were new things to learn.
No I didn't read it in Arabic but I thought this would be a cool picture.

I hope all you members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints reading this have also met this goal or are close to finishing. If not, run to Deseret Book, get it on CD, and listen to it before Dec 31 2005 11:59pm- you never know what secret blessings will come from obeying the Prophet. And for those of you who are not members of the church, I hope you consider reading the whole thing this coming year.

It's an amazing book-even aside from the power of its message. The claim that the resurrected Jesus Christ visited the American Continent in 33 AD to a civilization that had its origins in 600 B.C Jerusalem is quite a story in itself- but as another Testament of the Living Jesus Christ it does things to your personal life that will change you- bring you power, knowledge, peace and goodness. It is true.

It was interesting to read Ether while living in the very spot where the Brother of Jared lived. I couldn't help thinking of him, his family and friends, all hanging out in present day Iraq, praying that their language would not be confounded. Then they got out of here. Good examples. I also hope my language doesn't succumb to the constant stream of profanity and explicatives I hear daily from the military men and women, my co-workers and their music. I miss home and family lately and I think it's time for a vacation to the American Continent.

I'm an Aunt again- 15th time I think. Tabitha Henrie- a little Christmas package on Dec 26th. I only get to see pictures of her. I miss children in a bad way. This military base life is strange. There are no homeless or poor people, no unhealthy people, no children, few old people, and no mentally or physically handicapped people. There are no public displays of affection, no one holds hands, heaven forbid if anyone kissed someone of the opposite sex in public. I’ve seen one person crying in public my entire time here- a female soldier walking out of the mayor’s cell- probably got tragic news from home. Only formal handshakes and masculine hugs are allowed for comfort. I can see why people get crazy here after a while- the human need for affection and warmth is suppressed to the point that it has to squish out somewhere else.

It's a little bubble of …something unnatural here. I’m looking forward to my vacation coming up. I’m going to hold a baby for hours until one or both of us fall asleep. I’m going to sit by my father with my head on his lap or shoulder while he reads scriptures. I’m going to cuddle up to my mom and wrestle with my brothers and smother my nieces and nephews with kisses and hugs. Oh the healing power of human touch!

2005-12-26T06:49:00.000-08:00

The Day After

I feel like I’ve been through some kind of initiation of sorts. I got up this morning to a sunny, cold windy Iraqi day. I talked with the family via phone while their Christmas day came to a close in the United States. Then I began working. Except for my Christmas package that came late in the morning, the day could have been any other day.

I did it. I spent Christmas alone, in Iraq and lived to tell the tale. The feeling is like I have membership to some kind of club of sufferers. Not like I suffered at all yesterday, but I spent it in a war zone- alone. It was a Christmas striped to the bare bones. I slept in and went to chow at about 11:30. The TCNs on the KBR team really outdid themselves this time. They had four roasted pigs, cakes in the shape of churches, carved fruit everywhere, table cloths, a Santa Clause complete with a chimney and fake fire and music. I ate lobster and shrimp, pumpkin pie and ham with nuts and cranberry sauce with two total strangers. I took a little salad home for the evening and I spent the afternoon and evening watching films about Christ and reading the Book of Mormon in profound silence. It was so very quiet. There weren’t any bombs, there weren’t any voices in the halls, and all day there was only one knock on my door when a soldier delivered a Christmas card to me. Incredibly quiet. I wonder if someday I will look back on these kinds of experiences and long for the silence. I’ve been alone with silence for many times in my adult life and because I grew up in a large family, I understand the value of quiet.

In church there were seven of us in the little chapel on the water. We listened to President Hinckley’s Christmas devotional and then shared Christmas memories with each other. No babies cried, no children fussed, no chairs creaked. Just profound quiet. The day ended with me having not been disturbed for anything work related. It was my first full day off since July. I’m not sure if I’ve appreciated quiet undisturbed hours so much in all my life.

More than the quiet in my room on Christmas, there has been a profound quiet in this country this week after the elections. Except for just a few explosions at a Northern Base gate on Christmas morning, there haven’t been very many disturbances. I’m excited about the quiet. Each day that goes by in “silence” here in the country, fills me with great hope for this country. Anticipating the results of an election like this can be very violent, but it’s been fairly quiet. I’m grateful.

I’m going to leave my little tree up for a few more days—just to maximize this very different Christmas I’ve had. I missed my family. Apparently they all got together at my mother’s place Christmas night; about 40 people (12 or so under age 8) singing, talking laughing and enjoying the Christmas spirit together. Although I enjoyed the silence yesterday, don’t get me wrong, I missed them all profoundly. There were moments last week that I thought maybe if I broke ALL the rules, I could get home for Christmas. That would mean getting a flight on an Iraqi plane to Jordan, connecting to Europe somewhere, getting to the East Coast and then to the Rocky Mountains. That is if I wasn’t kidnapped or killed along the way. I would have been fired and it would probably have cost $4000+ but it was possible to be there that night.

Instead, I spent it in my little pink tile room in Baghdad alone.

My consolation: In church we sang “Far Far away on Judea’s plains”. In reality they were “Near, Near at Hand…..

2005-12-21T01:20:00.000-08:00

A picture is worth a thousand words so I'll let this one do the job this week

Merry Christmas from Iraq.
My love to all of you.

2005-12-15T22:51:00.000-08:00

What an historical day to be in this town. Of course I'm at the same desk in the same office in the same camp on the same very closed base in Baghdad. BUT, I'm here nonetheless. There's no movement allowed this week so the people that sell phone cards at the bazaar can't get on the base and my phone is out of minutes. People can call me but I can't call them. Oh well. It's a small personal sacrifice to pay for the great events that took place yesterday. The day before the elections I spotted a long row of Iraqi tanks and soldiers fueling up at the petrol station here on base. They yelled and waved to me as I passed taking pictures. The day of the elections I sat at a table in the chow hall with two Iraqi military leaders. I carefully looked for the tale-tell signs of a voter; and sure enough, one of the men's fingers was stained with the ink of freedom. I asked to see his finger and we exchanged pleasantries. It's cloudy and windy today- the winds of change I'll call them. I anticipate rain as well- rain to wash away the dust and water the thirsty land; a land thirsty for water yes, and a land thirsty for freedom-- rain to wash away the years of suppression and tyranny. Let it pour down!
God bless Iraq.

2005-12-07T22:22:00.000-08:00

Christmas Time In Iraq

This morning it was much more chilly out. My hair was wet from my shower this morning because I killed yet another hair dryer. I got into the office and searched my Dell JD player for the Christmas genre and pushed play. So here I sit, just cold enough to feel the “winter” feeling and listening to Christmas music.

My boy was in town for Thanksgiving and he and I decorated my Christmas tree. He bought me bows and two military decorations- one of a black Hawk and one of an F-something (fighter Jet--probably an F-16). Little Santa and Rudolphs are driving the aircrafts wearing little sun glasses and helmets-just cute. Every morning and evening when I get home to my little room I turn on the lights and bask in the feeling of this one Christmas I will spend in Baghdad—carpe diem!

Have you ever wondered what happens to care packages that are sent randomly to “the soldiers in Iraq”? One very large box filled with candy, razors, hot chocolate, pens, band-aids, sun-block, paper, gum etc was placed outside the chaplains office in the MWR and the items were systematically placed on a table next to the box. I passed the display several times one week and watched the pile slowly disappear. Everyone likes free stuff. A thank you goes out to the school group, church group, neighborhood or family that put it together. I took some gum. Thanks

After lunch yesterday I sat at my desk and started to feel a very familiar sensation in my throat. For those that know me well, you are aware that I’ve had sinus surgery three times, that I have acute allergies, and up until just two years ago, I experienced a head-splitting, three-days-in-bed, groaning-in-pain, sinus infection every year. After I’d been through it all through jr. high and high school I started just going into the doctor and telling him what I needed, when I felt that familiar sensation- “Amoxicillin and an anti-inflammatory please”. Some of my doctors wouldn’t take instruction from a patient and I’d suffer for a few more days until I got what I needed.
I sat at my desk for an hour feeling the lump grow bigger and bigger in my throat. Finally I jumped up “I’m NOT going through this in a war zone at Christmas time with out my mommy”. I walked down to the medic building and was told I couldn’t be sick until 15:00 when they opened for patients. I walked back to the office and sat while the sensation began to turn to pain. Otherwise very healthy, I hurried back to the doctor’s office at 15:30 and got into see the military doctor there. To my utter surprise I was in and out of there in less than ½ hour with Amoxicillin and 800 MG of Motrin—for Free! I was aghast at the efficiency. I took the pills at dinner and then again at breakfast this morning. I can feel the lump trying to grow but it’s being suppressed. Phew- caught it in time. Some productive soul is burning garbage in the fair city of Baghdad for the second day in a row and the air is not as friendly as I would have liked but I’m going to survive.

A word on mergers—Although the end of the year seems a logical time to make the final break from one identity to the new one, it sure is a bad time-what with holidays and all. Our new “boss” company has sent down some new policies that are making life very complicated. Everyone who pushed back on the policies got fired so those of us who haven’t gotten our 6 month completion payment (let alone our year completion payment) are laying low and working our tails off.

I am now teaching Salsa dance at three different bases in the BIAP. The Air Force has got me on Thursdays at Camp Sather, Camp Victory is on Fridays and Camp Slayer is graced by my presence on Saturdays (tee hee hee). My dancing partner Major Perez went home (he was fantastic and will be greatly missed) and so I’m flying solo. Kind of hard to teach the men’s part but I’m learning as well as teaching. People seem to be having a good time and they keep coming back every week so I must not be abusing them too much. The MWRs are all decorated with Christmas trees, tinsel, bows, silver and gold and tree boughs; so beautiful and festive. The US military personnel don’t seem to concern them selves too much with being politically correct. It’s liberating.

I heard the song from Polar Express by Josh Groban “Believe” the other day and I started crying--just a few glistening tears. I miss my little nephews and nieces, my siblings my parents, the snow in Utah, a big real Christmas tree, the smells of the season, the bustling of malls and church programs. But someday I will look back and will think of my little tree with two decorations on it and I will pine for this very simple Christmas I’m spending in Iraq-- so much closer to Bethlehem than I’ve ever been for this time of year.

Meanwhile the bombs explode around the camp, the popping of weapons is heard day and night and my Christmas music plays softly as a soundtrack to the movie that is my life.

"...the babe, the son of Mary..."

2005-12-04T03:57:00.000-08:00

A Tribute to Third Country Nationals

Third country nationals are individuals who are not Iraqis (local nationals) not American contractors or DOD workers, are not members of the coalition forces and are in the country working with the Coalition and their US Contractors. Many TCNs are from Pakistan, India, Sri Lanka and surrounding areas.

KBR employs a lot of TCNs, in fact lot’s of contractors do. They serve our food in the DFAC, they stock and sell us our stuff from the AFFES store, they pick up garbage on the bases, drive trucks of supplies, redo the plumbing and other maintenance and they paint.

A whole crew of them showed up in my new house about two weeks ago with their American Contractor supervisor and they painted for a couple of days. They started by sanding and mudding and sanding and priming and then finished by giving the walls a nice coat of light mustard color with the doors and ceiling molding and door frames all a high gloss white. Incredible improvement and it makes coming home so nice. I snuck out of my room one night and used the primer paint and a brush to paint the inside of my door. It was thrashed and just a nice white wash made all the difference. I took pictures of the men painting and they wanted a picture of me in it. Toward the end of the week they asked me several times for the pictures we had taken so I printed out four copies of the pictures and left them by their paint buckets one afternoon. I didn’t see the group of them again until the next week.

My co-worker James went home on vacation for two weeks and I got to have his vehicle. When I knew he was coming back the next day I decided to clean the thing out. I always like giving back borrowed items, better than I got them. I parked the scooby van out side our office and started with a bucket and brush to wash the thing. It was extremely less effective. I got some of it started and I heard a voice behind me “Hello miss” I turned around and found two of the men who had painted my house standing near by. I said hello and then asked them if they knew where there was a hose. I had to use charades a little bit because they thought I was saying house. When I showed them a defunct hose with no running water, they lit up and told me to drive just a ¼ mile down the road where there was a hose. When I got out of the truck I found myself surrounded by a group of men from India and Sri Lanka all smiling and standing around. I started turning on the hose and scrubbing and they just wouldn’t stand for that and one took the hose from me and another took the brush from me. Then all 10 or so descended on my truck en masse. With in a half an hour, the truck was sparkling, inside and out. The build up of filth scrubbed from the tires and bumper, windows shining and clean in side and out, and the whole truck was white again. I was thrilled and told them thank you again and again. They told me to come and see their office Christmas decorations. I accompanied them next door.

Walking into the garage-type office felt like a visit to Santa’s workshop. They had strung a varied assortment of Santas, bells, tinsel, mistletoe, lights, and the like all over the ceiling and walls. To top it off many of them wore blue over alls. The clincher though, was a table of 20 or so bright fire-engine-red wooded boxes. They told me that they were fire extinguisher boxes for the various buildings on camp but I couldn’t help thinking they looked like jack-in-the-boxes for children all over the world and when I told them that they said “and we are the elves”. They gave me palm dates and water before I left. They were so giving. What wonderful people.

Another good friend from India works in the AFFES store and always gives me the discount tickets when I walk in. He and his pals sit with me at meals. Two others are jewelers. I bought some silver hoop earrings from them and we always wave and say hello when we bump into each other on camp. There are many other TCNs that brighten up this place. They work very hard, seem to be always cheerful and are deep thinkers- bright intelligent people. I know they are making a lot of money relative to others in their respective countries but I secretly wish they could earn more. It has to be secret though because unlike a perfect world, it’s unofficially socially forbidden to sympathize with “them”. Silly old world!

2005-11-23T03:19:00.000-08:00

Giving Thanks

I don’t know if they raise turkeys in this part of the world. One would think they do because there’s an entire country with that name. Regardless of whether there are turkeys to cook (or the bird flu panic that seems to only be on CNN), I’m sure the KBR guys here will give us a terrific and traditional thanksgiving feast tomorrow.

I thought it might be appropriate to innumerate some things I’m grateful for.
I am thankful this year for safety in our camp, for good food, for a great paycheck every two weeks, for clothes on my back and shoes on my feet. I’m glad I have my own room here in the Baghdad International Airport base. I am grateful for a good mind and sound body that can sing and dance. I’m grateful my brother Ben is home from his LDS mission with honor, that I have grandparents that love me. I’m thankful for aunts and uncles and cousins. I’m grateful that my sister Becky gets to have a new house where she can put her handsome husband and cute baby, and that there are three new babies on their way down to our family from heaven (lucky ducks!). I give thanks for a new man in my life and his love and acceptance of the silliness of Tamee and my insecurities.
I’m thankful that Ethan is with Kristi and his children this year, I’m grateful that David is celebrating his first Thanksgiving in his home with his beautiful talented wife Tricia and their children. I’m so grateful for Jason and Jenelle’s new little baby boy and for stimulating e-mails from Jason. I’m thankful that Daniel is enjoying college and Kimberly and Mike are living in Utah near all the other cousins so Leif and Isaac and Joey can be better friends. I’m grateful for a talented pair of parents who love each other and who love me.

I’m grateful for the United States of America, And that the Lord saw fit to let me be born in the Rocky Mountains of that great country. I’m grateful that I can complain about the government with out losing my head. I give thanks for a beauty of America where God in his wisdom allowed us to have a society of peace. In the US we needn’t purchase $100,000 up-armored SUVs, don our helmets and iron plated armor vests to drive 15 minutes into the city on company business. We do not hear the popping of weapons in the night. We do not shake in our beds at mortars rounds landing near by. We vote with out risking our lives, we express our opinions with out disappearing a few days later. Our children attend warm, well stocked, modern schools. Our homes have regular electricity and excellent plumbing with clean water. Our food is safe and healthy to eat. Our roads are smooth and clean. We can attend the Mosque, the Synagogue, the Chapel or Temple at will, when ever we want to. How rare in this world of sorrow! I give thanks for the brave men and women that ventured to the unknown by the hand of God and established this land for the creation of the miraculous U.S. Constitution, and religious freedom and those that have defended it through the ages.

I’m grateful for friends all over the world, and for those that I will never see again in my life I’m grateful for the knowledge God gave this world to help us develop better methods of communication; internet, radios, telephones, fast transportation, television and mobile phones. What a gracious God he is to allow us these miracles! I’m grateful for the United States Military, for their courage, sacrifice and strength. I give thanks for clean water in bottles, for a printer that prints and pens that write. I’m grateful for a little chapel to meet in, for meetings on Sunday with my fellow members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I offer my humble gratitude to the Lord for the Book of Mormon. I’m grateful for forgiveness, for repentance, for the atonement of Christ that allows me to start over again and again. And lastly I am thankful for prayer, for no matter where I am in the world, my Father in Heaven is only an upward glance, a begging moan, a secret wish expressed only in my heart or a whisper away. He’s only a whisper away. For this I give thanks and offer to all those who read this a very Happy thoughtful Thanksgiving from the Cradle of Civilization.

2005-11-15T22:05:00.000-08:00

For He…sendeth rain upon the just and the unjust (Matt 5:45)

I sat out with my linguist friend Mikel tonight while he smoked his pipe and we watched the first real good rain descend on Baghdad. So cleansing and clear. The wet cement and dirt had the same smell it does in Utah after a rain storm- incredible sensation for the nose. The lightening looked the same too. I couldn’t help thinking that the rain fell on the entire city- it excluded no one- insurgent, US Army, Iraqi population, contractors, children, women, men, good, bad, poor, and rich. It rained on everyone. Weather is such an equalizer.

I have figured out how to solve the problems in the Middle East. It needs to rain more here. When I arrived in Kuwait in August I distinctly remember praying one night for rain. I said something like “God, I know it would probably really mess up some other weather cycle in the world for it to rain here in August but I beg you for it. Please let it rain here”. I usually get what I want- it’s always the timing issue I miss. So it’s November, there are Turkey decorations in the Chow hall and Halloween just sort of came and went and it’s raining finally. Growing up in Utah-- also a desert-- I know the value of water and the price the economy pays during a drought. I suppose our country used to feel drought more keenly when we were more agricultural but I think even today in the Western states, rain is a symbol of prosperity and people are more comfortable buying homes, purchasing stock, starting businesses and likewise, when there is a good water supply from heaven.

I know I should be grateful for what little rain storm we had but I can’t help wishing for a great flood of water to fill the gutters sweeping the dust off the trees, the roofs, the cars and streets and cleaning everything like the rains do in Utah.

My new place is cozy and warm and it feels more and more like the holidays with the coldness outside. It would be nice to have a family to snuggle with but for tonight I’ll just be grateful for the rain and a warm dry PRIVATE place to lay my head.

Notice the wet ground around me--good stuff!

2005-11-11T22:17:00.000-08:00

The Quest for Privacy

Apparently moving is considered a crisis, like a death in the family, a birth, getting a new job or graduating from some degree. If a person has more than five crises in one year they are due for a nervous break down. I was thinking about that last night when for the third time since I landed in Iraq, I moved to a new spot. However, this is not a job change or even a neighborhood change, just new private quarters. YEEHA! The quest for privacy has ended successfully. I’m living in a little village that Saddam built for his high ranking officials when they visited the BIAP. It reminds me of some plush Suburban communities on the South end of the Salt Lake Valley. However, like everything else out here, the plumbing is shoddy, the tile work sub standard and yucky and the place was filthy. I spend the better part of last night cleaning the place and moving my stuff from the trailer to my new apartment. It needs some rugs and stuff to cut back on the echo but I woke up this morning very comfortable. Very comfortable indeed.

I put my little Christmas tree up and it feels like home. Speaking of home, I got an e-mail this morning from the family. My brother Ben is home from his LDS mission to Des Moines. I called him and he sounded great. Good stuff. Although I’m missing the family a lot these days, I know I’m where I belong.

I took a convoy in to Baghdad this week to pay some local national interpreters. I got that old feeling I used to have when I taught school in Palestine- that love for culture and great interest in humanity. I’m glad the windows in our up armored HUMVEE were tinted because I was certainly gawking at everything. Iraqi traffic stopped and got out of the way for us everywhere we went. I couldn’t help thinking about how the Iraqis must feel. The disparity and contrast left me wishing I could do more to help. I saw more children though so that was good. I hadn’t seen with my physical eyes more than a half a dozen children since I landed in Iraq. Not good for the soul.

It’s much cooler now and I bought myself a bomber jacket. It’s very cool—or should I say warm?

My thoughts today are with my brother. I hope he finds his way in this world and makes a difference for good. I know he already has a great start by serving a faithful mission. Now the fun begins.

2005-10-31T08:34:00.000-08:00

Happy Halloween!

Can you tell what I am this year with my DCUs and up-armored truck?

Still alive in Iraq, that’s what!

2005-10-21T03:28:00.000-07:00

I’m officially cool

Yesterday I took a Black Hawk (helicopter) to the international Zone in Baghdad for a Conference with our region. Yes I left the BIAP (outside the wire) and flew in a Black Hawk. Officially cool.
AND LET ME TELL YOU, WAS IT EVER COOL!
Oh my! I kept thinking it was just like a trip to Disneyland for the day. Four of us left the BIAP with our flag jackets and kevlar helmets (no I didn't throw up in my helmet) traveling on my new favorite way to fly. The whether is absolutely perfect these days- like the very beginning of fall in Utah- crisp, yet warm, cool but pleasant--makes a person feel comfortable in their clothes. Flying over the city was incredible, the view was…well, I’m sorry that I only have words and 2D pictures but that is all I have so I can’t explain it.
Our regional manager picked us up at the helo pad and we drove to the Jerusalem Gate. Our headquarters are guarded by Fijian guards. They smile and are very friendly, but don’t mess with a Fijian United Nations guard—bad news baby.
For an after-conference-party the Fijians offered to cook and entertain. They teamed up with the Iraqi employees and put on a feast like I’ve never been to. The tastes were so different and delicious. Before our meetings we took a little tour around the IZ. We got lunch at the outside cafes by the PX, went shopping and I got a T-shirt and postcards. We saw the Tomb of the Unknown solider, and the huge crossed swords monument. I felt a lot like a tourist and decided that it was probably more accurate than not. It will be wonderful when this place is safe. I know it will be a huge American Tourist attraction. They will make a killing (in money that is). They really need to clean up the dust though. Who “they” is, I don’t know.
The party began at dusk. The Fijians dug up the lamb and potatoes they’d cooked in the ground and the Iraqi’s started cooking their kabobs and stuffed peppers. Fijian dancers started lining up and the music started. The smells and sounds were incredible. I had to keep reminding myself where I was, because with the palm trees, the fun filled day I’d already had, the people around me and the general atmosphere, it could have passed for Maui or Anaheim- but not Iraq. The only thing that kept me psychologically in Baghdad was the concertina wire above the cement barricaded wall.
The Fijian soldiers-turned-dancers lined up behind the audience waiting for their queue to start. An Iraqi family across the street stood out on their roof and watched. Some of the children strayed over to the gate and climbed up to get a better look--beautiful Muslim Iraqi children watching a very different culture do its thing. I couldn’t help thinking what healing sorts of acts singing and dancing are. The children watched all night in great interest. It was an incredible collage of humanity. I can’t remember when I’ve been so filled with cultural awareness. I joined the dancing at the invitation of a Fijian and was given two Lava lavas. I packed them in my duffle bag this morning before getting back on the Black Hawk and flying to the BIAP. It’s kind of like a dream now but I have got pictures and the two lava lavas, so it must have happened.

2005-10-17T00:50:00.000-07:00

It was cooler out this morning- I actually turned my A/C off in my trailer. There was a lot of haze this morning and the wind turned to a dust storm- (kind of like a snow storm in that it made me feel cozy inside the office). Anyway, so when I went to the PX to get some tissue and I saw all the Christmas stuff, I just couldn’t resist. I bought a little Christmas tree, lights, wrapping paper and bows. Fun, Christmas in the Middle East! I’ve always wanted to do Christmas in the Middle East but I pictured it closer to Bethlehem not Iraq. It’s cool though. I’ll be happy. Yes I know that Halloween hasn’t even happened and Thanksgiving is more than a month away but the whether changed today, ever so slightly, and I got some Christmas spirit. Besides, it’s snowing in Utah (at least in the Mountains). Don't worry, I’m ready for Halloween anyway. I’m dressing up like an Army person. Should be fun since I have everything I need in my duffle bags.
Some of the Mormon guys out here caught some lizards to photo for their children at home. So I’m posting this picture for my nieces and nephews.
Merry…. I mean Happy Halloween.

ps- Yes, I did spent referendum day here in Baghdad and no, I didn't not get out of the wire to see any electoral booths and YES, I'm still smarting from it. No, I don't want to talk about it and yes, I will try harder next time sometime important is happening and YES I KNOW IT'S DANGEROUS! But what's the point of having political science BA and living in this country and not seeing the historic stuff and events...huh????
I am calm......serenity now.

2005-10-14T00:36:00.000-07:00

This is actually the second of three insurgents. The Mother is still at large (and is large). We found this one drowning in the toilet this morning- the very clean toilet from yesterday's efforts. With a little encouragement Mike helped finish it off and Scott threw it in the lake for the fish to deal with (another reason we don't eat what we catch nor do we go swimming).

2005-10-13T01:51:00.000-07:00

Two Insurgents in the Office

(Ground Zero)
We are calling them VBIEDs (formerly “vehicle borne improvised explosive devises”—now “varmint borne improvised exposure to disease”)

I got into the office a little later this morning and found Allie standing with her arms folded in defiance outside. She explained that two local insurgents were discovered this morning scampering around on the floor and she (a former drill sergeant in the Army) abandoned her post and left the battle field to the men. The men, armored up with brooms, sticks, and rubber gloves, began emptying the office of everything.

I gathered my courage and helped empty the chairs and rolling desks out into the lobby but it took me a while until I entered the war zone.

After 10 minutes of noisy warfare in the back supply room, one casualty was carried out by his tail to the dumpster. The scene was then scoured and rearranged until the marble office floor sparkled. The office coalition forces suffered only one casualty—the broom. It was carried out ceremoniously and we’ll have to get to the PX to get another here soon because the dust is formidable around here.

We are on the alert for a second attack from the mother of the former. Allie suggested a bear trap. Chris explained the effectiveness of a sticky rat trap and a lively conversation ensued after we retired to the war room to plan our defense. We will be ready. We’ve taken preventive measures by plugging up the holes in our office and removing all the food and will be ever vigilant for insurgent varmint number 2. Hoo ah!

2005-10-10T10:19:00.000-07:00

WOAH!
This new job is no joke. I haven’t even been able to get to my blog for ever. Super busy from 08:00 to 20:00 every day but Sunday when I scrape a half a day off to get to church.
Craaa zzyy.
I’m working a lot more with the Iraqi linguists and the Army points of contact. I’m getting out of the office a ton and am learning A TON. Good stuff. Glad to be busy. I’ve been a bit home-sick this week but I’m sucking it up and I’m going to be fine. Money is the only thing that keeps me here sometimes (and the fact that to get home I have to get back on a C-130 and go back through CRC-- NO THANK YOU).
So I find reasons to stay until I get feeling better. It’s amazing what a difference a really good friend or two will make in a place like this. I’ve got a few that are just gems. God seems to give you just what you need when you are on the brink huh?
I’m an Aunt again- number 14-- a little boy. Good stuff. I got pictures from home and everything.
This is me with one of my favorite instruments on earth. A classical guitarist on base brought it by for me to play a bit. Filled my little cup of joy for the day. Now, who's gonna bring by a piano?

2005-09-30T06:58:00.000-07:00

He used a WHAT?

Well the boys got me out fishing last night...um till, um…about 01:00. We were all late for a meeting this morning at headquarters but I don’t think anyone cared and we had a really good time last night so I’m feeling okay about it. I am very sorry to admit that because of a number of things including undergraduate work, four years of a very time consuming position with the state and then graduate school, it’s been about a decade and a half since I’ve cast a line. I REALLY screwed up the line. It was so bad that Scott had to cut it and re-tie the bobber. If my father is reading this, let him picture me with my head hanging low in shame. Sean ended up showing me how to cast it. Very simple—and again, I stand in shame. I got some serious bites and I felt my adrenaline hike a bit at times but Scott’s the only one that caught anything. I’m going to call what he caught “bait”. It couldn’t merit the title “fish”, but he was excited. Sean grabbed at it and it chomped him. I guess the fish here are still loyal to Saddam Hussein. It was bleeding really bad, and I started searching through my bag for a band aid or something. I didn’t have band-aids but you know a woman’s purse is an endless supply of seemingly useless things that can always come in handy in an emergency. He ended up taking apart a tampon, tying it with floss and binding it tourniquet style with one of my bobby pins.

We had a good laugh.
Good times in Baghdad.

2005-09-25T21:55:00.000-07:00

A Word on Peace

This evening after brushing my teeth I got up real close to the mirror in the women’s latrine facility trailer and I gave myself one of those sly crazy looks and I whispered “What are you doing here Tamee? You’re crazy, you know that?” and I took my wet toothbrush and walked back to my trailer.

It was a little bit over done today. I’m not too sure why Sundays come down that way but it’s been pretty consistent out here that Sundays get psycho. I was very tired and worn out from cutting a rug last night at the Salsa dance so I slept in. I took my half a day this morning and went to church with my Mormon brothers out here. It was a good meeting and I’m glad I got my little spiritual bucket filled up because what faced me later sure dipped into it. When I finally did get into work I learned that last night my co-worker’s mother called him with the tragic news that his father had died and that my co-worker was already headed home. I was aghast for a few minutes and just sort of sat there thinking about him. I got really weird like I do when I can’t do anything about problems and I had to be productive. I started sweeping around my desk and then around other people’s desks and then out in the lobby area and I got really into it and started mopping. After cleaning I felt a little bit more like I could face life and began digging into the work that was piled up on my computer. Some very serious mismanagement issues were addressed in the office and I offered my opinion; difficult things to fix. We took a trip to do paper work on yet another dead linguist and traveled on to solve another problem. Back in the office another management issue surfaced and was discussed at length and with vigor by everyone. Solutions were offered, frustrations were voiced, action was taken but no head way was made. I listened quietly and tried to sort it out in my head. The frustration was mounting. When it seemed as though a very poor decision was just going to have to be implemented and dealt with, despite the frustrating consequences, I sat quietly at my desk until I couldn’t sit anymore.

I stood up and went outside to our lake front view here. I searched my surroundings and knelt on the back porch unobserved.

God and I have an interesting relationship. I’m generally pretty open with Him. I feel like I’m always in a prayer. I’m telling Him stuff all the time and then trying to listen. Then I’m telling Him stuff and being blatantly disobedience or openly defiant, but generally He’s pretty clear on direction and I’m pretty clear on what I’m disobeying and I rationalize with Him until I’m humbled and I get back on track. It’s open though. I’m always whispering something to Him under my breath: asking, thanking, begging, being sarcastic, questioning--dialogue all the time. Therefore, to kneel and pray is a little awkward and in some ways redundant. Like, I’m walking over to the spot I will pray and I’m mumbling under my breath to Him my frustrations that I’m about to formally pray about. But I did it. The reason why I knelt is to show my humility and sincerity; to beg, as it were, for a solution that was beyond my control.

I left it in His hands. I told him that his will be done and I left it.

I can’t help thinking about the concept of peace though. It’s so very peaceful here on the camp. I sat outside the MWR for an hour this morning before church looking at the river listening to "Consider the Lilies" on my MP3 player--super peaceful. The sun shined off the water, the fish were jumping around, the bull rushes were swaying in the breeze. People walked around doing their business and cars drove by slowly. It’s a little bubble of peace here. But this peace is in the middle of hell. Excuse my language but just outside the wire is pure hell: death, corruption, carnage, deceit, disorganization, and misery. It leaks into our little bubble often. Bullet holes in the chow hall, insurgent fire rounds that land haphazardly in the camp, and unfortunately the same stupidity of humanity finds nesting ground in the people working here. I do not exclude myself. We all make mistakes. Hence, my “word on peace”

Peace is found inside a person. I look around at all the stuff Saddam Hussein tried to do to make himself comfortable here—his palaces, money, security, and luxury built on the backs of the unfortunate. But all the lakes and palaces, and guards and money and women didn’t bring him peace of mind. He may be a poor example because I truly believe the man is mentally ill. But the same concept can apply to all. Peace of mind is found in only righteousness. One’s surroundings can be truly chaotic, and one can turn to the power inside that comes from the spiritual buckets we should all take time to fill, and one can feel complete peace. “Ah ha”, you say- “but how do we fill them in less than ideal circumstances? You had a lovely hour of meditation with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir on your $300.00+ Dell dj MP3 player sitting at the MWR this morning, Tamee, and then a lovely water front facility at which to attend church where you were fed the good word. What if you don’t have those things?” I don’t know. But I do know that God watches over his children and there are blessings pending that he is waiting to dump down on us that only require our asking. You want a Dell DJ? ask. I ask and I receive.

“Dear God” I said in April 2005, “I don’t like my job, I want a different one, I want to make more money, I want to go back to the Middle East and I want to be safe there” And wam bam, here I am. “Dear God” I said after a month in one spot here “I want something different, I need something different” and badda bing, Here I am in Camp Slayer. I get what I ask for. MOST THINGS. And God and I go the rounds on that one—but that’s a blog for a different time.

Bottom line, I just ask and then I sit back and watch Him do my life. It’s when I try and do it for myself that I get into my battles.

So my word on peace ends with this. He is real and is listening and that is my peace. I’m watching and waiting and wondering what will come next. Mean while, I keep eye balling myself in the mirror—she’s fun to talk to as well (crazy home-leaving, men-loving, family-missing, excel-learning, Middle East-passionate chic)

To Joe:
Tonight I’ll be praying for my co-worker who is sitting on a plane somewhere aching.

2005-09-22T21:10:00.000-07:00

Birds in the morning and Bats at night

I’ve been moved to a new position in the L-3 Titan Group and therefore have been moved to a different location in the BIAP (Baghdad International Airport). Our office has a lake front view and the guys go fishing when they need a break; (no they don’t eat the WMD contaminated fish) but there are some serious whoppers in there. I’ve seen them with my own little eyes. I’m closer to everything now so instead of having to drive into the chow hall or drive to the MWR, I can walk. It’s all in the camp with me. I live in a little four-woman trailer partitioned off by very thin walls. I have to leave my trailer to use the latrine or shower but I’m actually much happier here. There aren’t the usual lizards and geckos and frogs hopping about and I don’t see bugs (although I’m being eaten alive at night).

I bought a bike to get around a little faster and I got me a helmet so the MP (military police) don’t pull me over. Apparently, they like to stop contractors because we are making more money than they are, and my being a women will only encourage that practice because they like to talk to women in general. Double whammy. I’m trying to follow the rules. I’m learning more about Excel formulas than Arabic, much to my chagrin as my goal in coming here was to learn the language. It’s not going to happen at this juncture. Perhaps later.

The MWR (Morale Welfare and Recreation) people asked me to teach Salsa dancing on Mondays, Fridays and Saturdays. WHAT A BLAST! Can you say “Tamee is in her element”? She’s in the Middle East, she’s associating with people from all over the world, she’s banking bucks, AND teaching dance three times a week. Someone is looking out for me, I’ll tell you what. What did I do to deserve this? Good times, good times.

We were going to go over to the morg today to do paper work on a linguist. He was killed by an IED (Improvised Explosive Devise). He was a local national. There are U.S. hired linguists and local national linguists. U.S. hired linguists are American citizens that speak Arabic and English. Local Nationals are Iraqi individuals living in Iraq who speak English and Arabic as well. The local national Iraqi linguists pay a high price for working with the US. They and their families are watched carefully and targeted mercilessly by the bad guys. Many more of the local national linguists than the U.S. hires are killed out here. I can’t help thinking of them with great respect and honor. It makes me want to do my job so much better so that they will be paid correctly. We ended up not having to make the trip today and although I was not afraid, I was concerned about what I might see. IEDs are not pretty. In fact they are quite messy. I have great hope for a people that are willing to sacrifice in this way. Yes, they are paid well, but they are willing to associate themselves with an entity that will likely get them killed. They sacrifice for their families, for a cause, and for peace. I have great confidence in a people that will do this. The children of these people will remember the price that was paid, just as I think of the great men and women who sacrificed for my freedoms. God bless them.

There are birds in the day that gather in clumps in the trees and chirp loudly. So loudly it is remarkable and one tends to look to the trees to see what in the world is going on. They are hidden though, so all you know is what you hear. Riding my bike home at night I see a lot of bats. I keep thinking of that movie “Batman Begins” as I watch them flutter about. They are really quite peaceful—and it’s so quiet and calm at night with the water lapping against the shore. The moon was very large and orange last night as I rode home and the bats kind of made it sort of romantic. It’s a bazillion miles away from everything I know and understand and I’m at peace.

I’m happy to be here to be associating with the creatures around me—yes, including the people.

2005-09-11T22:19:00.000-07:00

9-11 2005 in Iraq

Someone made a 9-11 display in the chow hall today. Two 6 foot black rectangular blocks resembling the World Trade Center Towers stood on a decorative cloth on the floor with a flag behind it, Added were decorative sprays of tinsel in red, white, and blue and some lighting for effect. They had a large cake on the dessert table that displayed the writing “We Will Not Forget”. I can’t help thinking who the cake decorator was—mostly likely a third country national (most of the employees in the chow hall are TCNs—they come from countries other than America and work for the contractors here). He’s working in Iraq in the chow hall making cakes for 10 times what he could make in his own country doing just about anything else. Yes, he probably won’t ever forget 9-11, but for what reason? We all have out own huh?

For the last four 9-11s I was in Utah working for the State. The first one I spent glued to the TV like the rest of you. 2002, 3 and 4 I reflected quietly in my office reading internet stories.

It’s a little poignant being here in the Middle East. It’s Sunday and I’m in the office. I went to church at the camp chapel this morning and spent the afternoon with church members. My vehicle was chosen for a random search this morning at the check point and I thought it was appropriate for the day. Lunch with the group was relaxing. We shared stories of where we were when “it” happened. Everyone has a different saga.

I’ve just started reading a book called Al Qaeda and I am learning the deeper intricacies and details of the event like never before. Being in this country especially causes me to reflect—for I am daily reminded of the many consequences of the events of that day. My very presence here, walking among the abandon palaces of Uday and Saddam, helping Arabic/English linguists do their jobs etc etc. My life has been profoundly impacted by the terrorist attack on America.

I’m learning about Osama Bin Laden. He was a son of a fourth wife of a very wealthy influential Saudi Arabian in the 50s. His mother was soon replaced by a new fourth wife and his mother and he were sent to live in the complex for “the Family”. Many “fourth wives” and their children lived in this complex. What a life!

I think of my own upbringing. My folks were married in the 70s and I was the oldest child. My mother brought 7 other people into this world between 1975 and 1986. We lived in only two houses the whole time-one in Salt Lake and later in Sandy. My father and mother stayed together the whole time. There are now many in-laws and tons of little grandchildren running around. I had clean running water, enough food to eat all the time. I had a free public education, and attended Christian Mormon Sunday school during my growing up years. My father always told me that he loved me. My mother showed me that she loved me. My siblings all love each other.

I can’t help thinking of Osama’s growing up time, the impressions made on his mind as a kid and the experiences that shaped him into who he is compared to my life, my experiences and my impressions. I want to ask what creates a monster. What turned him to hate other human beings? How could he separate himself from others because of their skin color and where they were born? What snapped in him to make him hate me a total stranger—an American?

It is not uncommon though—his same ideology is found all around us, in Columbine High, in Inner City gangs, in the office place, at the grocery store, in quiet minds all around us. There are little prejudices everywhere that could grow into great and powerful hatred. What is uncommon is the self control some exert to try and love when no love is given. To return kindness for unkindness. Love should be offered freely as Mother Theresa so eloquently put it.

People are often unreasonable, illogical and self-centered;
Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, People may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;
Be Kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies;
Succeed anyway

If you are honest and frank people may cheat you;
Be honest and frank anyway.
What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;
Build anyway
If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;
Be happy anyway.
The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;
Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;
Give the world the best you've got anyway.
You see, in the final analysis. It is between you and God;
It is never between you and them anyway.

The effort then is to fight the fight, and return love for what ever is given to me—a much more difficult task than letting the hate naturally and instinctively overcome me.

So the sun sets on this day of days, my generation’s “Pearl Harbor”, the day that reshaped so many things. Would that I could cause an event with that kind of profound impact on the world, only for good. Love is much more subtle though, and moves mountains incrementally. So I am the leaven the salt, if you will, in this desert land, and I continue to push against the rock that only God will move.

2005-09-10T10:24:00.000-07:00

A heart in the dirt.

I found this beautiful symbol drawn in the dirt outside my office a couple of mornings ago. Later in the day the Iraqi teenagers that have been hired to do landscaping around here passed by; and like always, I greeted them in my Arabic (very poor but getting better)

One directed me to the symbol and gestured that it was for me from him.

How cute! I explained that I was 32 and then asked him how old he was. He told me 17.

Do you remember being 17 and everything was drama drama drama? I smiled a knowing smile, explained that it would not work out between us and sent him on his way. I'm sure he was heart broken. But, I saw him today and he yelled my name across the plaza. I guess his passion isn't too damaged.

It made my week.

2005-09-09T02:52:00.000-07:00

So how are we doing?

( a lovely weed)

Saw an interesting story today on some progress here. I'm generally skeptical of the media because the blatant biases I see, but I thought you all might be interested in this one.

http://news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&u=/ap/20050909/ap_on_re_mi_ea/iraq

So how are we doing? You may have caught me on the wrong day because I'm a little bit pessimistic about life in general (I stayed out dancing too late last night and I'm tired) but I'll give this one a shot.

America and Iraq will prevail and eventually succeed in establishing a free democratic economically viable society here. I'll tell you what is holding up the process though; people.

I say this tongue in cheek but it's such a truism. People get in the way of democracy.
People have needs that overpower the golden rule, that overrule trust, that negate kindness. They are simple needs too: sleep, sex, food, shelter, agency etc. There's a need for self substantiation or actualization that bulldozes over the human virtues. Unselfishness takes a back seat to proving that oneself exists. Unfortunately it comes from insecurity or lack of self love.

Now, what in the world am I talking about? As I've talked and worked with some Iraqis and some Americans I'm reminded at times of Dr. Suess's Sneetches and The North Going Zak and the South Going Zak.
http://www.bariff.org/kidsfamilies/310613.html
If you recall the stories, they are about pride. In one case one group felt superior and one felt inferior. The superior feeling group worked constantly to substantiate their supremacy and the inferior feeling group consistently validated that work, with their own self-inflicted, down and lowly attitudes and paradigms. In the case of the Zaks they stood for a life time facing each other in defiance because they refused to compromise on a seemingly very small issue.

There are individuals who are functioning in these paradigms here.

I've never understood the deference given to individuals for their titles, birth, race or positions in society. Granted, some individuals in this world deserve respect for the position they hold, but I can probably count them on my hand; and in their cases they have probably earned the respect. For the rest of the world I grant my respect, honor and deference to them depending on how they have treated me. If I am treated kindly, trained properly, evaluated fairly, judged constructively or dealt with honestly, the individual will have my respect. It is the same for all, regardless of race, faith, gender, and the mess of other characteristics with which we choose to distinguish ourselves now days. I don’t automatically put a person on a pedestal—they have to earn that. I do understand love though. Love and trust should be offered differently. Trust is a horse of another color but love should be offered freely as Mother Theresa so eloquently put it. http://prayerfoundation.org/mother_teresa_do_it_anyway.htm

What I’ve seen here on more than one occasion is a general evaluation of individuals depending on “the stars on their bellies”. The characteristics they happened to be born with, determine whether they are to be offered basic human courtesies. And on the other hand those born “with out stars on their bellies” believe that they are being squished all the time and can not see beyond their own starless bellies. They wallow in self pity and self degradation not allowing the powerful virtues inherent in them to overcome suppression. They will not return kindness for harm, they will not forgive when inconvenienced, they refuse to love with out first distinguishing specific characteristics.

The stage for progress then is bumpy and progress is made at the speed of snails.

A word on Mercy-- I have used the word mercy lately in a different way. Generally one thinks of mercy as something we grant to those who have harmed us and are begging for forgiveness before we bring down severe and bloody justice upon them. After talking with friends here I’ve come to the conclusion of that which Christ taught long ago (funny how that happens ey?). It is not our place to judge—ever. Mercy is a must, forgiveness is a must. In reality this means that when we are mistreated we immediately forgive, let it go—water off a ducks back, if you will. The Golden rule helps with this one. Put yourself in the person’s shoes for a bit- would you have done what they did in similar circumstances? Maybe. What’s going on in their life? Who knows! I love how Elder Eyring put it "When you meet someone, treat them as if they were in serious trouble, and you will be right more than half the time"

http://library.lds.org/nxt/gateway.dll/Magazines/Ensign/2004.htm/ensign%20may%202004.htm/in%20the%20strength%20of%20the%20lord.htm?f=templates$fn=default.htm$3.0

I believe this is true. So where is the mercy? If everyone is in serious trouble—and you know we all are in one way or another—we react/ or act in the world in the context we are living (or drowning) in. We truly wish to be understood and granted mercy for our selfishness, our self preservation, and our insecurities that squish out because we are suffering and we are frustrated. If in turn we receive a quick answer, fast criticism and a harsh judgment (which in most cases we probably deserve) we will seek to hide our weaknesses—we deny our fault and blame the other for not understanding our hidden pain. We villainize the other until we feel justified. And oh, is the human mind brilliant in justification! Never is the mind more clever or resourceful as it is in self justification- that grease on the pole down to hell.

So we take our Sneetches (generally good people with insecurities)- both groups in serious trouble (as individuals) and we stick them in an environment where there are truly evil people with similar physical characteristics to both groups of people. Mercy is withheld by our generally good people, because of fear and stereotypes are more fully developed for both groups until there is no fertile ground for trust to grow.

Solution? As a matter of fact I have one.
It is to grant Mercy according to the Golden Rule. Judge individuals as individuals not as a group. There are good and bad in all of us. I’m not talking about the effort to root out insurgents. That must involve a much less merciful approach. I’m talking about the efforts to rebuild this country. These overlap in some ways so one must be careful. But basic human courtesies, standing in line at the chow hall, the fed ex, the airports in the Middle East, check points. Show basic kindness to all regardless of their face.

Ahhhhh,
Now, I must allow that there are oasis’s of kindness out here, courteous body searchers at various buildings, that (while they pat you down) ask you how your day is going. There are great soldiers that smile and wink when you pass through a check point (after they professionally check your ID) or individuals who allow you to grab a roll or apple when you aren’t really in the chow line. Or co-workers that are just plain uplifting to be around.

Mercy and kindness- for all regardless of who they are—allow for the serious trouble in all of us to exist with out throwing it in our faces. Hey, maybe sooth it a little-how would that be? The Iraqis are in serious trouble. You can’t find one who hasn’t lost a family member to either Saddam or the wars. The Americans here suffer as well. Allow the suffering to squish out the way it will with out judging the person.

Didn’t some one else say this once? http://scriptures.lds.org/john/13/34#34

Closing thought- cheerfulness, smiling, happiness, joking, flirting, helping, laughing; Wow, good stuff

2005-09-03T04:21:00.000-07:00

Settled in Iraq

(subtle in'it?)

Today begins my official year in Iraq. I've been here for two full weeks already and was in training in the states for about a month but if I take my two weeks PTO in February 06, then my "year" begins today. The visa's all paid off and the cubicle I've been assigned to is finally comfortable (not counting the temperature). There is nothing to spend my money on now so the financial goals begin.

It's about time to start a blog.

Incredible site today- a convoy of Iraqis in training drove by an intersection where I was stopped. Fantastic new uniforms, armor, weapons, and smiling faces. Now, Arabic men are generally handsome to begin with. But stick a young one in a uniform, clean shave him, give him a steady paycheck and a purpose and you have a very good looking individual. A whole convoy of them. They, of course, noticed me. Everyone notices me. A woman is a rare commodity here. A single woman in her own vehicle smiling is even rarer. As I waited, one soldier riding in the back of a truck threw a set of keys to a passenger in the vehicle behind him. The passenger caught it in his hat. I mimicked clapping as they passed. They beamed as they noticed the act had been witnessed and by a woman, no less. They all waved, they all smiled, and they all looked strong, young, tough, and committed to their new assignments. On other occasions here trucks of new Iraqi soldiers drive by clapping in rhythm and singing Arabic soldier songs. They beam as well; good stuff.

I was so encouraged by the site today, I've been happy all day. I've been generally happy here anyway. From training in the States for the position to the traveling to the final destination, I've been infused with a sense of adventure and purpose. The Middle East feeds my soul anyway though so just walking in the dust and muck here fills my little cup of joy. Then add a very simple job to the mix, intriguing people all around, serious money, and some life threatening events here and there and this girl is HAPPY!

Furthermore, I'm going salsa dancing for the third Saturday in a row tonight. I wish I could just pull Saddam out of his little cell for a few minutes for some poetic justice. Saturday nights are salsa nights at the MWR. Soldiers, contractors, linguists and others meet in a revamped Saddam palace and salsa dance. There are a lot of displays of poetic justice here but one of my favorite was last Saturday when a Iraqi Kurdish linguist joined the mix of Puerto Ricans, Mexican Americans, Americans, Europeans, and Latinos in general. Latin music, blasting off the ornately decorated mosaics, tiles, crown molding, gaudy chandeliers, water bottles, weapons, and the miss-matched odd assortment of chairs, moved the crowd of people. It was probably the best use that palace has seen in its existence. But just take that rotten idiot of a tyrant and let him watch me teaching a Kurd to Latin dance in one of his Palaces. Sweet poetic justice.

(Hobbit House)

The structures here are an odd assortment of architecture. I can imagine some official of Saddam's saying to a contractor "build some palaces here, here and here. Then with or without AutoCAD, the contractor 'went to town'. The styles of the buildings range from South Western style, to Frank Lloyd Wright to Frodo Baggin's home. It's just bizarre. The tile work is shoddy, plumbing and electricity sub standard and most are filthy but just so darn interesting. I've enjoyed exploring.

2005-08-19T05:06:00.000-07:00

The Mouth Kit: Dedicated to Aunt Cindy from T

It’s 1:30 in the morning here in Baghdad and I’m wide awake trying desperately to deal with jet lag. Instead of just getting up and going running here, I thought I’d play it safe and write a letter. I’m living in one of the bath houses near one of Hussein’s palaces. It reminds me of the former regime, flashy in appearance but the tile work is shoddy, the plumbing sub-standard, electricity undependable and in all ways the place is falling apart (not from the war).

I’m actually writing to thank Aunt Cindy for (what I affectionately now call) the mouth kit; you remember, that lovely gift of wash wipes, brush ups, floss, etc. Allow me to paint a picture story for you. After a week of military baptism by fire at Fort Benning—complete with first aid training, IED, NBC and a host of other acronyms training, and blistered bleeding feet from my new DCU issue boots, I found myself in Kuwait on a cot for three days waiting for a military flight into Baghdad. I’m not sure if I would have been so anxious had I understood the nature of a C-130 military plane. I barely missed the 21:45 flight and made the 03:30 group. I don’t know if I missed a meal or what but I was very empty in the stomach and didn’t really sleep much as I was anxious and had already packed my blanket—(nothing like a cozy metal-plated armor vest pillow ey?) After hauling three duffle bags, a rolling suitcase and my computer carry-on out of the warehouse of cots, to the bus, and then off the bus and to the pallet, I was spent. I knew it was b-fast or sleep time but I couldn’t figure out which. I lay waiting in a tent for word to get on the plane and fell just enough asleep to be really sick when the call came. I’d had a granola bar and water and was later grateful I didn’t eat one of the delicious MREs available.
The last audible communication I remember hearing after sitting on the very warm (I was sweating) C-130 military plane for a half an hour waiting for take off and before I put my ear plugs in was “if you throw up, remember to throw up in your helmet”. Hum? Now for those of you who know me well, you’ll recall that from infancy I’ve had a nasty habit of giving back what was given. Although I took my Nexium, like a good girl, the C-130 was stronger. First of all I was sitting facing sideways on a “seat” that wasn’t more than an aluminum lawn chair belted to the middle of the aircraft. I was in my metal plated body armor vest and helmet and as we lurched in to the air I frantically searched the very small round window above me for some bearings; to no avail—I was dizzy.
Then I started using some psychological tactics. “Tamee you are just fine, you are a little tired perhaps from jet lag, you are warm but just fine”. Then some music to calm the savage stomach; “I am a Child of God and he has sent me…here?….Heavenly Father are you really there?….” When it became apparent that I wasn’t going to beat it, I started a frantic search through my carry on for some container to wrench in (in my mind of course because if I had actually moved from my current position, I wouldn’t have had time to search).
I knew I had some medicine in a Ziplock bag in the second pocket and when I finally did pull it out, ironically the bag was full of Pepcide AC and said stomach in black magic marker on the side. I probably would have been amused while dumping the contents in to another container, if I wasn’t already throwing up in my mouth.
I had long since abandoned my helmet and armor vest. It was a basic weighing of options—If we are fired on and I die of gun shot wound so be it- I won’t have died from nausea. I placed the Ziploc bag in my helmet and gave back my granola bar and water—every last bit of it. A C-130 hardened soldier of some rank (no I haven’t memorized all the little symbols yet) was bobbing his head to his ear phones and just sat there watching me. I didn’t have the courage to look at anyone in the eye just then and was actually hoping no one else was sick because it makes it a lot worse to watch someone throw up when you are at the threshold. Needless to say, I was as lady-like and discreet as I could be under the circumstances. I squeezed the air out of the bag and shut it tight. I was light-headed and faint but not nauseous. I was glad I didn’t have much more in my stomach- nothing more would have fit in that little bag.

I sat there for a minute wondering if I’d reached the pinnacle of self inflicted depravation, misery, and wretchedness and then I remembered “the mouth kit”. “It’s always the mouth” I remember hearing Aunt Cindy say. At my farewell party she gave me the “Mouth Kit”--a beautiful purple suede hand bag full of nifty cleaning items. The hardened solider, of unknown rank, sat watching me as I daintily pulled out the cleaning wipies from my bag and mopped up my face and hands. I then applied a brush-up to my finger and commenced rubbing my teeth and gums. He nodded his approval and continued bobbing his head to his music. I donned my vest again as my temperature had dropped significantly and I piled all my garbage (including my half digested granola bar in the ziplock) in my helmet—it’s the most use I’ve gotten from it yet. I was finally able to look about me and most of the men either didn’t see or didn’t care what had happened and for all intents and purposes I was willing to leave it that way.

The airport found me hauling my gear (in semi-inebriated state) off the palate on the tarmac and to the curb for the Titan bus to pick up. It took me a very long time but in the 120 degree weather, with no food or drink in me I wasn’t about to kill myself before I got that $10,000 completion check. The dust coated all my gear and myself and stuck to my sweaty clothes and face. After paper work and a dusty ride to the DFAC for lunch (yeah like that was going to happen!) we all got situated in the palace and bathhouse (compliments of the late Uday Hussein) and I finally got showered. I laid on a bed with a mattress in a very cool air-conditioned room. I heard two rounds of insurgent mortar fire in the distance and fell asleep. I had made it!