Playing the Victim...Literally

I've decided I want to get back into the disaster management world in some way (see my Hurricane Katrina life HERE and my uncanny knack of ending up near disasters of all kind HERE and really across this whole blog.) It may be as a volunteer or it may be a project at work, but dang it - I am an adrenaline junkie/disaster chaser! (which is the description a Red Cross staffer used last week when he was describing to me the typical personality of people he works with.)

So then I get an email at work that there is a simulation (something like this) taking place in the near future where first-responders need "victims" to practice with.

So I volunteered to play one of those victims.

Now, granted, this may be a really silly idea given the fact that I have to get up at an ungodly hour on a Saturday and am only getting paid with lunch. However, I'm looking at this as a way to experience the emergency response world again (since I miss it and I've yet to be contacted by another organization sending people to help with the Oklahoma tornado recovery. The answer is yes - I do sit around in my spare time and hunt down new activities. Because no, MOM, I can't just "sit still for once!" I'll DIE.) Plus I'll also get CERT credit (Community Emergency Response Team. I'm supposedly a local member of one but have yet to get direction about anything.) This is also a way to potentially connect with people in that world again, which could open doors, who knows.

Also -- I'll be put in makeup representing gnarly injuries and I'm supposed to act out scenarios. And who doesn't want to start their weekend that way?

The final reason I'm still considering doing this (even after I tried recruiting friends to join me and was met with either "are you crazy?" or blatant silence) is because I know from past experiences that you just never know what butterfly effect, chain of events reaction you set off when you just do something.

People ask me about how I get involved with different things and I want to say you just have to do things. You have to show up. You have to try new things, volunteer to work for free, show up. I've had so many people say they wanted to get involved with something too but when it comes down to setting an alarm or leaving their house, they bail. And then they wistfully talk about "living vicariously" through other people's adventures. You can find your own! They don't have to be extensive, they don't need to take you out of your city or cost anything (although I've found that eventually the need for more adventure does end up taking you out of the city and costing something if you're as addicted as I am. See: every post on this blog about international travel. Ahem.) But seriously, just try something.

It's definitely not all glamorous and you won't like everything you try but if you're open-minded you always learn something. And often make new connections. I sometimes just shake my head in disbelief in looking at chains of events in my life and it makes me want try more new things to see what new strange ways my life expands later because of them. Below is just one example:

-I heard about an all night food serving gig for the people investigating and cleaning up the Pentagon after the 9/11 attacks.
-While doing that, I met "P"
-"P" later joined the military and routinely asked me from far away places to show his military friends around DC as they moved here one by one
-(I thus took over P's friends and made them mine *Evil laugh*)
-One of those friends, "T," was in my friend group when I met a new friend "M" and brought her into the group
-T and M are now married
-They have Baby H

Thus -- Baby H would not exist had I not given up a night of sleep to serve food in the parking lot of the Pentagon in 2001.

See what I mean? Mind. Blown.

Ok, yes you could argue that if things are meant to be, they'll happen anyway. But I can't tell you how many ridiculously convoluted lines runs through my life that start with random first-steps and I feel like life just gets richer the more it expands.

PHEW! I did not realize I would go off on such a tangent but short story long -I think I'm doing this weird paint-your- face- act- like- you- have- an -injury -hang -with -strangers thing on an early weekend morning. Because who knows, maybe the course of my life will change because I showed up.

...Or maybe I'll just get free lunch and the knowledge that I started my Saturday 87% more strangely than normal. And that works too.

http://takomapark.patch.com/articles/washington-adventists-hospital-fills-with-fake-disaster-victims#photo-8185926

The “I did it my way” Award

In Japan, a couple of my friends made some poignant assessments of me that stuck in my head.

1. While we were all discussing my knack for strange things to constantly occur in my life, my friend Sean mused something to the effect of,“ it’s like you aren’t compatible….” To which I asked “not compatible with what?” And, in confused amusement, he finally answers “….with….everything…..else.”

Ha! I think that’s pretty accurate, actually.

2. While my friend Rebecca was explaining to her mother the reason why she ended up naked in a public bath that electrocuted her, she began with “well Dana is the kind of person that once she knows something exists, she has to try it….”

Again, pretty dead-on.

3. I can’t even remember what we were discussing but at some point Rebecca joked about me being bull-headed and I proudly announced that I did, in fact, earn a “I Did it My Way” superlative during my semester abroad in college. To which she, without hesitation, agreed, “of course you did.”

And I really did. After nearly four months living in Europe with a group from my University (detailed in the posts starting HERE), we had a little ceremony before heading back to the States where we all were given cute little awards describing traits that were seen in us throughout the semester.  And to my confusion and surprise, mine was called “I did it my way.”

Perhaps it was because my professor was just as bull-headed as me and at times, just as immature, which I pounced on. Perhaps it was my little stubborn stint of “finishing” my homework in order to go to Spain for the weekend (homework written in three different handwriting styles given that my friends sat in the floor and scribbled with me furiously while the cab was on its way to pick us up). Perhaps it was jokes I made, like when the professor left a little snarky note in our living area that said “there is no dish-washing fairy so wash your dishes,” and I later realized the name of the dish soap we had was “Fairy,” leaving me no other choice than to point out that there was, in fact, a dish-washing fairy….

Or perhaps it was because I ended up getting a grade below what I thought I deserved and I fought for so long with that professor about it that she actually hung up on me during our last phone conversation. In any case, after seeing various traits in other people, she saw in me – determination to go my own way.

But regardless of the reason I end up doing things “my way” – be it that I’m just being stubborn or because it just doesn’t occur to me to do things “normally” – I feel like it usually works out. But that can be difficult to explain to other people. Like my bosses.

I feel like I’m constantly being pressured by my company to tell them my “plans.” What do I want to do “next”? What are my “goals”? What’s my personal “development plan”?  I always end up sitting there looking back on how my life has “developed” thus far and the only way to describe it is how most people describe my “not-compatible-with-other-things” life in general: Random.

I ended up in my career because I was tired of being in small towns and my friend told me she spent a semester in D.C. – so I did that. Even though I knew nothing about D.C. or politics or cared. I just went on a whim in order to get to a big city.

I ended up in grad school because my ex-boyfriend wanted his Masters and didn’t want to go alone. So I did it too.

I ended up in a band because I got bored at work one day and started perusing Craigslist for some kind of creative outlet. Even though I'd never sang in public before outside of church or school choirs. 

I’ve “ended up” in a million different places that turned out great just because a door opened and I happen to be curious. I feel like I trip into things, rather than laying out plans and steps to get there. Like how my friend ended up a helicopter pilot because she fell off an elephant playing polo in Thailand and was air-evac’d to safety, making her think on the ride “huh, I bet I could fly one of these things….”

(I freaking love that story….)

But how do you explain ‘elephant polo accident-like events’ as your only “plan” for figuring out your future? “I’ll know it when I see it” also doesn’t seem to work when employers ask what your ideal next step is.

So I end up stammering in general terms about wanting to “hone the skills I’ve developed” and “use my experiences to create world peace” (ok, not quite that bad, but you get the point). And in the end, I figure I’ll just do it my way, and see what happens. After all, I did win an award for that approach....

In Honor of National Running Day and my race this weekend

Happy National Running Day (yesterday)! I'll be celebrating this Saturday morning by attempting to get through what will likely be a rainy 10K trail run that - surprise!- I feel under-prepared for. Again. I'll leave you with my account of this race last year. (And Team X.T.R.E.M.E I will try not to get in your way and/or vomit behind you this time. Try not to.).

Monday, June 11, 2012

(From:June 2012)

Running on Inspiration

This past weekend, I ran my fifth Xterra 10k Trail Run in Richmond, VA. I wrote briefly about this race last year here but this year had even more excitement. I didn't find out about part of that excitement until after I finished, when I learned my race partner Sarah had taken a nasty spill, pulled a hamstring, and suffered a deep cut to her knee. 

She still managed to finish before me.

Ahem. But that's ok, because *I* got to finish with these guys:

http://www.facebook.com/#!/TEAMXTREMERUNNING

Those are guys from Team X-T.R.E.M.E., an organization that raises awareness for wounded service members through extreme feats of physical endurance. They always run the Xterra wearing gas masks and often have injured servicemen with them. This year, their pace man in front had lost part of his leg and was running on a prosthesis. So if I had any bit of whining in me about running in the heat early on a Saturday, these guys hushed that right up.

There were several of them this year and as we all lined up at the Start line, Sarah joked that if she passed them during the race, she was pinching their butts.

Turns out, I was the one who ended up running with them. (I guess my pace is what a really in-shape person would run....when their breathing is restricted. Sounds about right.)

Somehow, I got tangled up in their little formation at the beginning and as two of them passed by, breathing like Darth Vader, the third put his hand on my back and gestured for me to get in front of him on the path.

So I pinched his butt.

Ha! No I didn't. I should have, but instead I got all worried that I was in their way so I stammered an "I'm sorry!" and fell in line.

Eventually they all passed me. But I stayed not too far behind and whenever I felt tired, it was nice to look up and see them all. Strong. Consistent. Supportive.

Strong.....

Mmm.....

What were we talking about?

Right -- the race. So after I fell behind, I continued along all the obstacles, through rivers, across boulders, etc. without incident until I got to the last bridge about a mile from the finish line. A guy jogged next to me and upon seeing the Team in Training shirt I was wearing, asked me if I was doing a race with them. I told him I had done a marathon with them a couple years ago and we exchanged pleasantries, wished each other luck, and he trotted away.

And I instantly felt nauseous.

Like, stopped me in my tracks, heaving over the side of the bridge nauseous.

That's only happened to me that one other time after I finished my first 1/2 marathon and never during a race. I couldn't believe it. I'd take a few a steps and bend over the railing again. The whole episode lasted so long I'm sure several other runners got to enjoy the sight. I finally felt better and started jogging again and saw the Gas Mask guys up ahead. So I'm thinking how cool it would be to come in right with them.

So I jog faster and do fall in behind them again, settling into their cadence. And it is cool to be near them because everyone along our route starts cheering wildly for what they are doing. Which is inspiring, and helps me get all the way to the finish line. And it's so great to cross the finish line basically with these guys.

So great, that is -

until they get stopped immediately after the line for photo taking and handshaking and what not.

And we are in between ropes.

And I am stuck behind them.

And I get nauseous again....

So in the end, there may be great photos of this awesome team of guys in gas masks --

and a girl behind them losing her Gatoraid.

Sigh.

Finally, a race attendant tells me I can go around them and I find Sarah in time to swap stories and get her knee washed out. And as we are hanging out at First Aid, we get to see Gas Mask boys start doing pullups at their testosterone tent. Because, you know, why wouldn't they have that much energy left after a race that made me vomit? Twice.

http://www.facebook.com/#!/TEAMXTREMERUNNING

Sure made for good inspiration though....

Team member carrying a triple amputee through the tough course. Amazing.

Iraq 7 - Back to Erbil and Happy Newroz

We ended our trip driving back to the capital, Erbil. I chose to ride in the car with one of our hosts rather than with the group in the shuttle and it ended up being one of my favorite memories of the trip. Not just because the host told me more stories, like about how he and his wife met, how they came to find their faith, and about his time in the Peshmerga and how he felt during the Saddam horror years. But also because I got a front row seat to Crazy Kurdish Traffic Patterns.

At one point, I remember listening to Iraqi music blaring, watching a crazy dance of cars in front of us, on a two-lane highway, where cars would take turns swinging out into oncoming traffic to see if there was space enough to pass the guy directly in front of them. Eventually they'd shift and the car that was hanging out on the wrong side would slide back in front of us while the car in front of them would slide out into oncoming traffic. Occasionally one would find an opening just long enough to make the brave little dart around the car in front of them, then they'd slide back where they belonged and the whole dance would start again. Our own car took part in the dance as well and at one point, we were trying to pass a large truck in front of us and kept swinging out to see if there was room, and finally -- I kid you not -- we just passed the dang truck anyway, not waiting for a break in oncoming traffic. The driver just figured the oncoming traffic would part like a river flowing around an unwanted rock and that's exactly what happened. We straddled the middle line and passed that truck while driving into oncoming traffic. On a high. way. not a sleepy back street where we're only going 15 miles an hour. Nah, full on interstate. I just sat in the backseat and laughed.

We met a lady at one point in our trip who said she told her fearful relatives in America that they needn't worry that she would be bombed living there, they only needed to worry -- that she'd perish in a traffic accident.
I so understand that now.

We finally arrived safely back in Erbil where we started this crazy adventure. We visited a local church and helped stuff food bags for the needy. We met all walks of life including some of the refugees out of Syria. Our leader also befriended a deaf man who we all fell in the love with. He had a huge smile and worked so hard alongside us even though it was clear he had other physical ailments besides lack of hearing. It was sad to learn that the disabled population is often ignored and the man didn't really have any way of communicating since sign language wasn't prevalent. The crazy thing was our leader had just been discussing his interest in the deaf community there just a couple days before (he himself knows American Sign Language) and no one he spoke to seemed to know much about that community. And then our leader just ran into this man unexpectedly. And lit up the world of this man when he started signing to him. Even though the man only understand a few words, just the fact that our leader paid attention to him, tried to enter his silent world, made such an impact. It was beautiful and definitely felt like a divine appointment.

The rest of my memories about Erbil pretty much revolve around Newroz.

Newroz celebrates the traditional Iranian New Years. But more than new years, for the Kurds, Newroz also celebrates deliverance from tyranny. The legend of it centers on an ancient tyrant but now it's also a celebration of freedom from Saddam and a celebration for the Kurdish cause in general.

Our hosts had loaned us their own Jili Kurdi (the traditional dress attire I mentioned earlier) for the ladies to wear to a couple different events. And I'll never forget what a moving experience it was to be in Iraq, exactly 10 years after the U.S. invasion, and be singing and dancing next to Kurds celebrating their freedom from Saddam. Incredible.

However, it's not just Kurds who flood the streets in Kurdistan during Newroz. People from neighboring countries and Southern Iraqis (Arabs, rather than Kurds) also come to Kurdistan to party.

And that's when our tough, former Kurdish military host got real nervous about his little herd of Americans.

I personally couldn't tell an Arab man from a Kurdish man except maybe by the way they were dressed, but apparently "southern Iraqis" were everywhere which meant potential danger for us. I did notice quite a bit more interest in us than I'd felt before. And at one point, one person in our group was talking to someone up from Baghdad and they mentioned a couple of us would love to visit to Baghdad, to which the southern Iraqi laughed heartily with a "ha! You'd be shot!"  And they were serious.

Welp, maybe next trip. (Just kidding, parents!)

Back to Newroz. Everyone takes to the "countryside" (aka every square inch of dirt along side any major highway) to picnic and dance the day away. (Below is from when our group joined in a southern Iraqi group dancing in the street. One of our guys decided to "Bernie" his way through the dance, which is why he looks like he's losing consciousness...kids these days....)

The traffic out of the city was again ridiculous and at one point I asked The Boy who was on our trip (the 16-year old fearing kidnapping on our way out to visit orphans) how many lanes of traffic there was supposed to be.

His answer: "three I think?"

then I asked how many there currently were.

His answer: "five I think?"

Which seemed about right. And people were waving flags, blaring music, sitting on top of their cars and loving the fact that we were there with them. Below is just a snippet of the chaos:

Then there are fireworks at night. And people jump over fires. And there was a gigantic party at some park that our host refused to let us attend because it was just too dangerous for us to be there. Which was fine because only men are out at night there (seriously, no women anywhere in sight. It's very strange to walk around and see.) so I personally wouldn't feel welcome -- or would feel too welcome -- and it was nice to watch it on t.v. in the comfort of our host's home. We even went up on their roof to look for fires and fireworks. Although I know each of us stood there imagining what it was like there when those flashes of lights and booms were coming from things much more deadly than fireworks years ago.

But that was then. And now, Kurdistan seems to have great things coming its way.

We left feeling that sense of hope for Kstan and full of love for its people. We made a day-long stopover in Istanbul on our way back to the U.S. and then arrived back in D.C. to disbelief from the customs agents that we'd actually go to Iraq for vacation. ("No really, who were you with?" was a favorite phrase of my agent...)

Such an amazing experience. Zor supas, Kurdistan.

Picnics on Newroz

me in my Jili Kurdi dancing on Newroz

traffic

picnics. everywhere.

group of guys just dancing along the street on Newroz

yep. 

Dancing on Newroz

The ladies in our Jili Kurdi

Watching Kurdish President speak on Newroz

Love rolling around with giant thousand dollar bills in my pocket

maybe next time, Baghdad

I always want my water to be "familiar"

Seriously, found these in a mall....lol

Not if, *when*.

You da furniture? No, *I* da furniture! (found on a table)

Kentucky Fried Chicken

Be careful, the stairs are very "sleepary"

Miss you Kstan!

Repost, because it's just so fitting.

I still need to write the last post in my Iraq trip recap, but with school and holiday weekends and everything else, I just haven't had time yet. I have, however, continued to have some ridiculous days where I can't even believe how many little things can go weird which always reminds me of the tagline on this blog so I figured I'd repost this until I can get back to writing on here. Enjoy. 

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

What's with Today, today?

So, obviously I love this quote, since it's my tagline. And for those of you who have not seen the movie Empire Records, it's from a scene where one of the characters asks another, "what's WITH you today??" and he replied (in a dreamy/stoner "higher level of thinking" sort of way) "what's with TODAY, today?..." Which makes me laugh and it fits perfectly with my life because I so often get caught in the throws of Murphy's Law and think "what is HAPPENING to me today??"

Like yesterday!

I was working from home and planned to attend a large meeting at a fancy hotel nearby at 4:00pm. But, per usual, I'm trying to answer one more email and take one more call before heading out. And I'm hungry, and I'm in my weekly race with my groceries where I have to eat meals like - a cup of milk, a bottle of acai juice, something involving bread, and a zuchini, before all those things spoil simulataneously.

Yesterday's concerning food items were my sweet potatoes.

So I'm "baking" (microwaving) one to throw brown sugar on and eat on the way, and I'm still on a call, still on my email, and someone tells me they want to have a call with me at 4:30.

Fine. I'll go into my meeting, then slip out and take the call.

Then I realize it's 10 minutes until 4:00. And the evening proceeds roughly as follows:

3:50: I'm driving too fast WHILE EATING A SWEET POTATO, and trying to stay cool with Air Conditioning because I do NOT want to have to wash this dress after wearing it for just a couple hours. And I have to find the hotel. And I can't find it. Then I do find it, find parking, and get out to pay the meter.

4:06: my wallet vomits coins all inside my purse.

Backstory: the day before yesterday, I was cleaning out a purse and found a TON of change in the bottom, so I put it in my wallet, FORCE the wallet closed, and plan to move it to the change pouch I have in my car. And I think to myself "this is totally a bad plan and this thing is going to burst open and dump in my OTHER purse"... 

Sigh.

4:07 I pay the meter, start sweating (No! My Dress!!!) and walk back down the mound of dirt around one of the trees lining the sidewalk, towards my car.

4:08 I fall down that mound of dirt.

Slide down it really, it was pretty much in slow motion - you know, so the MAXIMUM amount of people around could catch the sight.

4:09 I get up, stifle laughter, grab my stuff and head towards the hotel. And I look down just to make sure my dress hasn't like POPPED OPEN or something in the fall.

And it IS untied.

But nothing drastic, I'm still half-way presentable, and I still have faith it will make it another wear before washing. So I re-tie and enter the hotel.

4:13 I see a registration table for an event. And before I reach the table, I'm already loudly asking "Is this for [name of event]?" and the lady WHISPERS! that it is.

Oooooh. The door BESIDE that table leads to the event.

And it's open.

4:20 Dana just now walks into her 4:00 event...after possibly announcing her own presence.

4:21 I sit, try not to make too much noise, bend down to change out of my "walking flip flops" into my heels -

and see dirt all over the side of my foot.

Craaaaap. I had looked at my DRESS but forget to check my SKIN after that fall.

Thankfully, dirt was NOT covering my entire leg, like I then assumed it was. And I think, again, "it's ok, I'm STILL half-way presentable, it's fine." And I proceed to pay attention to the meeting -- except every few minutes I have to stifle laughter again because I get an image of myself falling down that stupid dirt mound.

And then I get an email that my 4:30 call is now at 6:30. Excellent! Now I don't have to walk right back out- the day is looking up!

6:00 The event ends, and I go up to talk to a senior manager, then I hit the restroom, where I glance at the mirror:

And it looks like I have a faint black eye.

Apparently, in my haste to put on eye shadow, I didn't realize some of it had fallen under my eye. Lovely, now my manager thinks I've recently been in a fist fight. Forget it! I'm going to Target....

6:30 I call my 4:30 call in the parking lot of Target - and get a voicemail.

6:31 I go IN Target, because I need something.

6:35 somewhere in the Sports Bras, my 4:30 call -calls.

Oh HI! Sure, this is still a great time to talk! No, no there are NOT people shopping for bras next to me, that's just silly...

And the call goes fine, the lady never actually realizes I'm in Target, and all is well. And I stop to get gas on my way home.

And the gas tank doesn't work.

So I'm sweating again, and pull into ANOTHER tank, get out, and get gas.

7:06 I realize - this dress is SO going in the wash....

7:15 I finally get home and decide to replace the belt on my vacuum. Then I burn the new belt immediately. Then put ANOTHER one on.

And start to suck up a TENNIS. SHOE.

The vacuum grabbed the lace and started trying to EAT IT, then started SMOKING before I could even hit the Off button. Which left my apartment smelling like burnt rubber, and left me wondering:

What was WITH today??

Iraq Part 6 - Dohuk

We had to go the long way around to our next city because the direct route would've taken us through Kirkuk, outside of the Kurdish controlled region, and subjected us to possible deportation for not having Iraq-proper visas.

Kirkuk started experiencing regular bombings shortly after we left and at one point, the Peshmerga - the Kurdish Army - lined up against Iraqi forces there as well. Thankfully things have calmed down again a bit but, yikes...

We drove through rain and mud and it cleared just in time for us to have the picnic that some of our friends had spent all morning preparing.

So good.

After we arrived in Dohuk, we learned we were very close to a large refugee camp for fleeing Syrians (Kurdistan now has over 100,000 refugees that they are taking care of.) Our host inquired about us taking supplies to the camp and we were finally told that the reason we weren't being allowed in is because there had been an "incident" with Americans there recently. The crowd was just too large and too desperate to risk us being overwhelmed by people. And this camp was one of the better organized and well run ones around. It's untelling what kind of conditions Syrians are facing in other camps and in other countries who don't have the resources available that Kstan does.

Then we learned a few of us would be visiting a local family of "orphans" (there, if you have lost the male head of the house, you are considered orphans even if you still live with your mother. Women just don't have much opportunity in society without a male so your lot in life feels very limiting if you lose your husband - which so many did under Saddam.) We would be riding out to a village with friends of our hosts.

Which meant we technically left our hosts. Which was fine, I knew our hosts would never send us off with anyone unless they completely trusted those people and we had hung out with these other people already, they were awesome. However, I have yet to mention our group included --

a 16 year old boy.

Which is funny because - who takes a 16 year old to Iraq for vacation? Even a man we all know who had just entered Syria -- illegally -- on his own the week before showed shock when we told him we brought a kid with us. "You brought a sixteen year old ...to Iraq???"

Eh, he had a relative on the trip.

Yet even that relative wasn't in the car with us as we were whisked out to a village. So as I looked behind me at The Boy who was riding in the back of the car, I'll never forget his huge eyes peering at me and the other two people from our team and him softly informing us that he was "memorizing the route we were taking just in case something went down and we needed to find our way back..."

ha! Can't blame him.

We were fine, of course. And the experience was amazing. The kids we hung out with ranged in ages from a few months old to late teens and they talked about what they wanted to be when they grew up, what they did for fun, etc. At one point we were all asked what we did and one of the girls on my team was about to join the Navy as a pilot. Not wanting to mention the U.S. military, she simply replied that she was going to work with planes.

To which our hosts asked "Oh, and will you be bombing Iraq soon?"

Us: "ha!...ha...heh heh..um....."  nervous laughter, embarrassed sideway glances at each other like "well -? I guess you never knooooow....."

And our hosts roared with laughter. Oh good! Phew! They are in on the joke!

Another funny moment came at a dinner days later when someone on my team asked a question like, "where are the drums?" and another host replied "Oh, I thought you said 'where are the drones' ...and I was going to say -- shouldn't you guys know that?...." Ha! Iraq has a good sense of humor....good thing....

Below are some pics of the village. I love how the girl's room we saw was complete with celebrity posters on the wall, just like we do in the U.S.

We walked around with them and had coffee and kissed their cheeks multiple times (I could never decode the kissing regimen in that country. Sometimes it was 4 kisses, sometimes 3, sometimes twice on each cheek, sometimes once on each-- it got embarrassing to the point where I just kind of let my face hang out there for as long as the other person continued to look like they were going in....)

Then we headed back to our group. We did other things in Dohuk, like visit a Christian-run Daycare who actually received funding from the government (proving how progressive that area seems to be getting with regards to different religions) and walked through the ruins of a village bombed by Saddam that was just now starting to be rebuilt. And then we headed back to Erbil to end our trip (and I experienced one of my most exciting car rides on that journey back, which I'll describe next post).

Adorable kid at Daycare

Family we visited in the village

Family's donkey who a girl on our trip tried to give medical advice for....don't ask...

sunset at village

remains of a bombed village

So many options....

just sittin' alongside the road, having a picnic...in Iraq....

pic I took on the sly in the Minister of Tourism's office....right before he ordered an official photo with us anyway. I felt crafty for one minute anyway....

Iraq part 5

Before we left Sulay, there was one other thing that sticks out in my mind. One of the churches there all came together to hang out with us

We saw this all over the country. People creating events just because we were in town. People spending hours preparing special meals for us so we could all have picnics together and be honored. The Minister of Tourism in one of the cities invited our entire group into his office because he was so excited that such a “large” (10 of us) group of Americans were touring his country. And even the Arab youth we spent time with came out in their Jli Kurdi -traditional kurdish dress for special occasions - (some having to fight with their parents to do so because it was technically a day of mourning for the Halabja attack anniversary) to show us honor and to spend time with us.

Anyway, it was at one of these impromptu gatherings in our honor that we got to spend time with more Christian believers. We sat on someone’s floor (because that’s how most living areas are there – no furniture. You sit on cushions on the floor and eat on plastic on the floor as well. Which, I might actually adopt given the table then becomes the garbage can at the end of the meal and the only “clean up” you have is folding everything up and tossing the entire thing out!) and we all broke into smaller circles to pray together and get to know each other.

There were people there from all over. Americans who had married Kurds, a UK missionary, a political refugee from Iran, etc. It was so incredibly beautiful to see everyone translating for everyone else (people there may speak Arabic, Kurdish, Farsi, tribal dialects… it gets ridiculous to watch communication) and to see an Iraqi with his arm slung around an Iranian, praying with him. Or to have an Irish man translate the Kurdish prayer requests into English for us and vice versa. And to hear a lot of the Iraqis pray not for themselves, but for their country. Such a sense of community there versus the individualistic sense we Americans grow up with.

We were told to say one thing we were thankful for and one thing that was bothering us. Mine blended into each other and I couldn’t finish saying what I was thankful for before I was bawling about what was bothering me. I explained that I was thankful just to be there with them and see their faith because I needed a boost in my own faith because I was still mad at God over something that happened a while ago.

Anyway, I pulled it together and we all prayed and moved on to the next person (and I distinctly remember one of them saying they were thankful they still had both parents. Once again, a reminder how many people there lost parents to Saddam’s campaign against the Kurds.) And when the prayer time ended and we all stood up to go eat, one of the Iraqi men in my circle pointed to me and said “You – Psalm 23 is for you.”

I was struck by that. A man in a country that my country fought in recently, a man who undoubtedly has seen so much horror, and I’ve seen so much blessing and protection, and he is smiling, boldly giving me encouragement. 

And when something like that happens, it also feels like affirmation that God sees me. That even though I so don’t “agree” with the way He’s doing things in my life sometimes, that at least I have reminders that He’s present, that he sees me. 

I got an even bigger confirmation of that, that night when my group came together to discuss the day. As I was walking back to my hotel room, one of our group leaders – we’ll call him john -  pulled me aside and said he had something to share with me. Being a kid who was sent to the principal’s office more than once in my childhood, this always makes me think I’m in trouble…

Thankfully, that wasn’t it. He starts to tell me that a group of people at our church back in DC had said a prayer over him before we left the states. And he asks me if I know this one girl, and I don’t because our church is spread over 7 different locations and has thousands of members so there are many people I never lay eyes on. Anyway, this girl started crying while everyone was praying and she just tells ‘john’ “I see one of the girls on your team sitting on the floor, crying, broken…”

And that’s it. Nothing else, no explanation. She’d never seen me before either and of course ‘John’ had no idea what she was referring to. But he told me that the first night we were in Iraq, he saw me tear up as I was talking with the group about why I wanted to come on the trip (clearly, I can’t explain that without crying apparently) so he thought about that vision that the girl told him but he said I was sitting in a chair, so it wasn’t totally the same. But then that morning, he said he looked over and there I was, sitting on the floor, crying, broken.

Do I know what it all means? No. And trust me, I asked if there was anything else to that vision – aka Hello! Was there a point where I was no longer broken? Cuz that’d be nice to hear! – but God is frustratingly funny that way and typically doesn’t give away the whole picture at once. What it did do, however, was give me more affirmation that God sees me. He made a girl who doesn’t know me, see me. And see me on a trip I hadn’t taken yet. And that was moving in itself. I don’t think I’ve ever been in someone’s vision before.... (except maybe in the nightmares of the people who report to me at work....but I digress.)

Anyway, there’s more to my own ‘broken’ situation than I’ll go into here, and more than most people even on my trip know. And in weird ways Iraq has been woven into my life for the last decade so this whole experience is one trippy, intricate thing of different parts of my life that I definitely don’t fully understand, but again, it helped just to get a sign at all. That God sees me, that he isn’t absent. Just hiding temporarily perhaps.

Anyway, the fact that I was in a country where visions are so prevalent when I was told that I myself was part of a vision beforehand back in my own country was really crazy to me.

Moving on! I know these posts are heavier than my norm so never fear, there were funny parts too. Next up – we head to the city of Dohuk.