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Greetings from Baghdad! I only have a very little time right now to try to send you information about the trip over and the conditions here in Iraq. This is stream of consciousness writing and I will do my best to help you see what I am seeing. We left from California, LAX to Amsterdam, laid over in Amsterdam for 7 wonderful hours and then to Amman Jordan. In Amsterdam we took a train into the center of the city with all of our buttons on saying Women for Peace. I Couldn't believe the number of people who expressed their support of Americans going to Iraq, to work for peace. We arrived in Amman at 2:30 AM and quickly rushed to vans that transported us out of the city. In the airport at Amman were several women in conservative Muslim dress. One of them approached me and asked if I was going to Iraq. She was a Palestinian who lived in San Francisco on her way to Palestine. She expressed fear. She had not allowed her children to make the trip but needed to see her parents. Her eyes were clear and direct and she blessed me for going to Iraq. "We must stop all this fighting," she told me. "All of us feel the pain and it is too much, regardless of our religion or who we are. I will pray that you are successful." Another conversation in the Muslim bathroom where a woman helped me to the "western style" toilet in the back of the bathroom. Another woman explained what my button meant. She quickly kissed my check and began to cry. Welcome to the very intense, emotionally charged world of the Middle East.
Amman was gently rolling hills with tiny minarets peeping up over the low, white brick city. Once we were out of the city we changed to large suburban vans and were on our way, twelve hours across the desert. A cameraman in my van explained that I was about to experience Mad Max Arab style. Huge tanker trucks blew by, some at 100 miles per hour, trucking gas and oil out of the desert. As we drove deep into the desert the blackness of the night desert contrasted with the billions and zillions of stars. The sky was just stunning. Five hours later and the light turned a pale, pale blue. We stopped in a tiny "strip" village along the road and entered a long open building. A "cafe." A man sat and warmed his hands on a tiny oil stove. It was so cold so I also sat and stretched out my hands. I smiled and he averted his eyes. We sat at a table and ate a breakfast of very spicy lamb with flatbread and fresh tiny cucumbers while desert men, with long caftans and heads wrapped in black checked scarves leaned against the wall and stared. Soft mutterings explained who we were (or who they thought we were) to the new men entering the cafe. We joked with the cafe "owner" about some Arabic words that sound like very obscene words in English. He understood enough English to know what we were saying and soon we were all hysterical and the whole building was, briefly, laughing at our laughter. A very brief but nice moment of "breaking the ice." The border took 2 hours as we were processed. There in the middle of the desert we meet human aid workers from Sweden, Cuba and France while processing our papers. We were served Iraqi tea in tiny little glasses with small spoons and lots of sugar. It was delicious. An apparent big Iraqi official paced outside. He had the longest moustache I have ever seen. Cell phones are not allowed in Iraq, a result of the sanctions, so some of our group had to check their cell phones, to be returned when we leave. The desert was just endless, hours and hours of flat sand, with occasional rolling hills of sand and a very few Bedouins out with their herds of sheep. I wondered where in the world they could possibly be going? There was nothing out there. Nothing. And finally, Baghdad! The first impression on the outskirts was crumbling flat buildings of concrete and mud, and poverty, poverty, poverty. As we entered the city we passed a section of stores with western style wedding dresses. Colorful neon lights and white dresses. It looked like Mexico City Arab style. The shops were all open stalls, some enclosed with glass, with food, clothes, but no electronics. We came into the center of the city as the sun dropped below the horizon. After settling into our rooms which were so shabby and poor, with dirty carpet, shredded furniture and a western style toilet with a pink seat that fell off at the slightest provocation. At least we did not have to squat as in some hotels. How do they do it? Our first full day in the city left me with these impressions: The Iraqi people were genuine in their welcome of us. They were friendly and warm. Normal people on the street came to us with hellos and welcome. The society is crumbling as the deprivation caused by the sanctions corrodes the quality of life. The children's hospital was heart wrenching. Uranium depletion has created a whole new level of cancer in children and newborns. Tiny little bodies with huge eyes lined the wards. Their mothers waiting by their side, waiting for the certain death that is to come. This was a very tough visit and several in the delegation broke down. We took Polaroid's of each child and gave the photo to their mother. The hospital was in terrible shape and the staff was obviously outraged as they spoke of the deterioration of what was once a very good, functioning, system of socialized medicine. We have learned now from the number of international aid people working here in Baghdad that the sanctions prevent most forms of cancer treatment for the Iraqi people. Here's how it works: The Iraqi's are allowed "food for Oil: supposedly. But 45% of the $ goes for administrative costs of the Sanctions program. The Iraqis first must make contracts with foreign companies for medicine and food. Those contracts are then sent to the UN committee where at times they sit for months and in a few instances, more than a year. Then the contracts are partially granted. If anything can be used, even derivatively, for weapons of mass destruction, it is denied. So, for instance, when they asked for the equipment to draw blood for blood banks which they so desperately need, they were given the blood bags but not the syringes. So the blood bags were warehoused while they waited for the syringes (which have never come) and then they were accused of warehousing the humanitarian supplies. We heard so many stories like this from both the Iraqi medical people and the international humanitarian relief workers. The humanitarian relief workers were to a person enraged at the sanctions. One of them termed it genocide. So many instances of systematic depravation. Vaccines denied. People dying of perfectly treatable diseases. Pleas to send children out of the country for treatment. Waiting for an answer while the child wastes away. The city is crumbling. Repairs are not possible. We pass what were once so obviously beautiful gardens along the River Tigris that are now dried and decayed, the arbors protruding like skeletal ribs on a dying carcass. There is a quiet desperation here. A waiting. And an attempt to carry on. Last night we went to a theater where a comedy was performed. We could not understand a word but it was so fun to see a live performance. The performers were astonishing, big talents here. As I listened to the laughter I realized that we opps, I now have to go. My time is up.. I will write more later. So much to tell! Love to you all. Please work for Peace. There is nothing here to bomb but people, people just like you and me who only want to live.
Love,
Sand
P.S. Thank you for your support. If you know anyone who would like to receive Sands letters form Baghdad please ask them to go to WWW.FREELYWESPEAK.COM there they can add themselves to the mailing list.
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Tuesday, February 4
Dear Friends, Greetings from Baghdad! It is very late here and I am sleepy. The hotel will not stop playing the theme from "The Last of the Mohicans" over and over again and we have had an exhausting day. Once again I will try to give you some idea of what it is like to be in Iraq during this time. And once again, as I have little time, this may be somewhat disorganized. But first I just have to share some very strong impressions. It becomes clear so quickly here that the Iraqis are not and cannot prepare for war. They wait for the terror to come as helpless as any people have ever been. They are totally unprepared. They are severely lacking medically and only have food to last three months. They have nowhere to go and if Team Bush does as they have threatened, and Baghdad is "leveled to the ground," they will have murdered five million helpless people. These people are sitting ducks. The US is the biggest military might in the world. The Iraqis are a depleted people, stripped of all economic support and without resources. The word genocide has been raised by some of the humanitarian workers here and as the days pass I see it also. It is the murder of a whole people. Do you remember the old movies of Christians being thrown out into the coliseum to be killed by lions? It seems a little like that from the view from here.
The insidious nature of the sanctions become more and more apparent as we go deeper into the society and see the lives of everyday people. Every person in Baghdad receives rationed food. Iraqi cannot supply its own people under the sanctions. The UN oversees the "Food for Oil" program and people receive rations papers based on the number of persons in a family. At one time the Kurds in the north grew wheat which was sold throughout Iraq. But with the sanctions they can no longer sell directly in Iraq. Without a market they have stopped growing the wheat. An ancient agricultural tradition dies as the fields grow dusty. And a culture begins to wane. People are beginning to come to us for medicine. A waiter needs cough syrup for his little boy. A woman is waiting for us at the hotel for vitamins for her children. Someone's uncle has pneumonia and need antibiotics. The waiter has tears streaming down his cheeks and you can see it is humiliating for him to ask.
Today we saw a part of the food distribution, visited an orphanage and walked in a very poor neighborhood where we were mobbed by children.
Yesterday was a very difficult day as we went to a bomb shelter which was hit in February, 1991. It was filled with over a thousand people, mostly women and children. 480 died. The shelter was a very large concrete structure built into the ground. The walls were at least six feet thick made of concrete and rebar. The shelter was two stories deep into the ground. We were told that the people came there from the surrounding neighborhood to feel safe. They made their beds on the floor and slept during the bombing of Baghdad. At 4:30 in the morning a rocket sliced open the roof of the shelter and exploded. A few minutes later another rocket bore in through the hole made by the first and went through to the second level. From the survivors we hear that there was horror and chaos. People in the immediate area were incinerated on the spot. As the inferno grew the temperature was estimated to reach 450 digress. All along the floor of the shelter you can see the marks of incinerated bodies. You can see the shape of the person and sometimes even the features of the face. I will tell you the hardest thing was to see a mother and her child, a black blotchy outline and smears of blood, etched into the floor. I just could not imagine it. There are photos of the victims on the walls and you cannot help but look at the outlines etched on the walls and floor and the photos and wonder, "was that her?" And I wonder exactly who shot that rocket. Does he or she know the horrible result? What officer gave the command? Who authorized this?
Another thing that is becoming clear is the resignation of the people here in Baghdad. They seem to believe that it is inevitable they will be bombed; that war is coming and they will be destroyed. I have come to recognize this kind of sigh when they speak about the coming onslaught. A little shudder. It is difficult for them to talk about the future. Or perhaps it might be better to say "a future."
I have never spent time with people anywhere without hearing about plans for the future. "This child is planning to go to the university" or "this summer we hope to take a vacation" Or "Tomorrow I will see my friend" or whatever. People in Iraq do not speak about the future. At first I just could not figure it out, what was lacking in conversations. There was a missing element. It was the future. They do not know if they will have a future.
When they speak of this inevitable war they just hope that somehow, they and their families might survive. They know that within a few weeks they will lose friends; perhaps family. You can see that parents are overly protective of their children. There is this desperation. And you can see that they want to believe that we can somehow help them. "You are Americans; perhaps you can speak to the president and explain that we are no threat."
Today we went to a restaurant high about the city. As we were looking out at the city a young man approached two of us. He wanted to know why Americans wanted to bomb Iraqi people. We tried to explain the oil thing and he kept on asking, with a genuine innocence, "why?" We could tell that he really thought we knew something and could explain it to him. It just did not make sense to him and he really wanted to understand.
It's gotten out that there are these American women in town who are working for Peace. Everywhere we go we get thumbs up. We flash the peace sign and they flash it back. Sometimes we are treated almost like celebrities, with people coming up in the streets and thanking us. Men in suits, women in chadors, young men and women in jeans with hip haircuts, they all take a moment to thank us. They tell us they know it is not the American people who want to bomb them. They are completely lacking in hostility. When we say we are from the United States at first there is this surprise and then, immediately a smile.
Last night three of us also met with this totally wonderful group of 43 Spanish actors, dancers and singers. They plan to take over their embassy here. They embody word "vivacious" completely. After we had talked a while and described our work here and in the US, one of the reporters with them began to ask us about the American people. Why were they allowing this to happen? How could they tolerate this action by our President? Don't Americas read? How is it possible that Americans would allow their government to commit this horrible atrocity and not take action? Whoa, these were such hard things to describe. And we never did completely satisfy their questions. Maybe we don't fully understand it ourselves.
There are many Europeans here. Members of the European Parliament are here. They are all outraged and radical. They speak of the American "Bully" and in one press conference yesterday the US was described as "arrogant" and "full of itself". It's kind of the way I see it. It's embarrassing when you see the common view Europeans have of people in America. We are moving about the city a lot and seeing many things. Orphanages, hospitals, etc and meeting with officials of various programs. There has not been time for small quiet talks with Iraqi people. We are moving fast.
A quick note to Rick Abraham. I am with your friend Diane Wilson and just love her! For the rest of you Diane is a fourth generation fisherman from the Texas Gulf coast. She has spent the last fifteen years fighting environmental pollution. She has tied in the environmental issues to this war very nicely. Tonight we were talking about the reality that if we had developed or were in the process of developing alternative energy, there would be no Iraqi war. Without the need and greed for oil, we would not be bearing down on these people to take control of their oil.
Thursday we go to Babylon!! We will spend the day with a family and see their buffalo farm. Doctors without Borders are here and tomorrow morning we will meet with them.
Every night here as I go to sleep I cannot help but think of faces of children I have seen that day. I think of them being put to bed by their parents and how it will be if the bombing starts. It is beyond the imagination that these little children are seen as so expendable, "acceptable collateral damage." What kind of monster finds that acceptable? All for oil.
And I cannot help but think of that one young man who looked at me so direct and asked with such urgency, "Please help us."
Good night all.
And Peace,
Sand
The eve of war. Baghdad prepares to be assaulted and everyone is afraid. This morning I awoke to the sound of banging metal. Downstairs I saw that the hotel was taping the window and a yellow dumpster was parked on the sidewalk in front. IT was a generator and the windows were being taped to hopefully withstand concussion from bombs.
People from my group went to a market this morning. They returned with stories of people approaching and imploring them "please, not bombs, please." "please help us."
We have been out in the streets and although war preparation is much heightened, people expect an onslaught any moment, there are no signs of tanks, no signs of weapons or increase of soldiers, only sacks of rice being stockpiled. Some of the humanitarian doctors are trying to obtain more medicines. These are the "weapons" the people here have.
We went to the Mosque to see some preparation and as we walked through I notice a pen with sheep waiting to be slaughtered. I could not help the comparison, "lambs to slaughter."
Being here with the Iraqi people creates so many feelings of helplessness and hopelessness. Although we are hopeful it seems that the Team Bush are completely unwilling to stray from their course. They are so easily willing to murder hundres of thousands if not millions of innocent people, mostly children. I say this as 40% of the people here are under the age of 16. Baghdad is very densely populated. It will not be so easy to watch the rockets this time as it will be so obvious what it means to see the sky light up with a hit. Each one could now be a new found friend.
Last night the streets were filled with weddings, complete with marching bands. Thursday night is the traditional time for weddings. It was so joyous and fun. And then this morning to hear that Bush had stated, "Time is up for Iraq, Iraq is finished." Fear and Tears. It is hard to think of anything else and it is the topic of the day. I just spoke with a doctor from "Doctors without borders" who could not contain her outrage. "First the devastation from the Sanctions. The doctor at the children's hospital earns only $12 a month and now he must contend with the horrible effect of bombing. That with 1 ambulance per 30,000 people. It is too much."
So, soon we leave these people. As I look at each person I wonder if they will survive. What will it be like? Unimaginable that okay gotta go. Love to you all. Fight for Peace!
Love,
Sand
Talk to you later...
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