Five Years On...

It all started today, five years ago. The waning of public sentiment in the U.S.'s favor, no more will you here people utter the phrase, "We are all Americans," so common after September 11th. The cracking of ancient fissures in the Middle East. The body counts, separate tallies for Americans and Iraqis, when anyone bothered to count the Iraqis at all. The shock and awe of watching a "preemptive war" unfold on the television while pondering the meaning and implications of the phrase. Isn't it simply a polite euphemism for "invasion", I wondered. Five years on and my shock and awe at the penetration of misinformation into people's minds, the fears that linger with people, buried just beneath the surface, seven years after those planes hit, my soul-shaking disappointment in my country, which I do still love, contrary to the beliefs of the false patriots, continue. Five years on and still we wait to hear a plan, a concrete plan for fixing what we helped break so irrevocably. Five years on and, in some ways, the lucky ones come home in body bags, the "living" suffering from neglectful, almost criminal levels of care for life-long physical and psychological wounds. Serve your country and come home to suicide, homelessness, unemployment, and a government that is happy to use you to recruit the next round, but not so pleased to pay to heal you. Five years on and still people sleep, missing the details that should provoke electric anger. Five years on and the lies have been confirmed and yet, still, the public loses interest and the story fades from view. Five years on and I still cannot answer the questions from people on this side of the world: "How did he get re-elected?", "Why do people in your country not care?", "You have the freedom, so why are people in your country not marching in the streets?"

Five years on an I am thinking of the middle-aged Iraqi man sitting next to me in a cafe in Damascus near the end of 2006. "Do you mind if I smoke?" he asked gently in Arabic, leaning towards me. "We Iraqis only smoke when we are sad," he said, weary smile stretching across his face beneath his moustache. "And we have so many things to be sad about these days."

Five years on and I am left to wonder what the next five years will bring.
Salaam, inshallah.

Shaky Ground

A small to moderate earthquake struck near Istanbul tonight. The lights flickered at school, but then they do a lot due to construction in the building. My students and I didn't feel a thing and didn't realize until another student stuck her head in to ask if we'd felt it. It was strong enough to scare my roommate, however. Being from south Florida, I'll take a hurricane over an earthquake any day.

Salaam.

How Will They Spin It Now?

In news shocking to almost no one with any intelligence, a US military-backed report (download and read the report for yourself) released yesterday found no pre-war link between former Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein and Al-Qaeda. No bulletproof evidence. No sinister nexus. No aid and comfort. Nothing.

According to the Washington Post this is the first study to examine Hussein's links to terrorist organizations, including those other than Al-Qaeda, using solely Iraqi documentation. Also according to the Post, while the study is said to have found non-operational links with other groups considered terrorist in nature, these links are said to have been of a nature to bolster his image as a leader in the region.

So, the count so far is no WMD, no link with Al-Qaeda, and almost how many dead as of today on both sides? I am no fan of Hussein's and I am somebody who wrestles with questions about what role other countries can and should play in ending dictatorships. And having one friend in the military, I am well aware there are good men and women trying to do good things in Iraq, who believe they can help. The lies and spin are an insult to them. The issue here is that time and time again, this administration lied again and again to bolster their plans. Time and again VP Cheney stood in front of the media and repeated the lie that there was a link, the words for years like a somber drumbeat. Certainly the uncritical, overly accepting public and media also had a role in the relationship. And now, several years into a war based on lies that has left a country in tatters with no end in sight we wait to hear any sort of coherent plan from candidates and leaders as to how to get out of this filthy mess.

Salaam.

Gulf War Syndrome Is Declared Real...Nearly 20 Years AFTER The War

It took more than 15 years, but it appears all those members of the coalition forces from the 1991 Gulf War weren't making up the health problems that came to be known as Gulf War Syndrome according to a study released today. Not surprisingly, it looks like the chemicals that sickened them were doled out by the the military, in the form of bromide pills intended to protect against nerve agents and a variety of pesticides used around military bases. Even more disturbing, according to this article, is that those same pesticides that caused chronic problems such as memory problems, difficulty sleeping, muscle or joint pain, fatigue, rashes and breathing problems are still being used in homes and businesses around the world today.

"Furthermore, the same chemicals affecting Gulf War veterans may be involved in similar cases of unexplained, multi-symptom health problems in the general population," said study author Beatrice Golomb of the University of California San Diego's school of medicine.

Hopefully, people will now take sufferers seriously and work towards some effective treatments, preferably NOT at a Veteran's Administration facility. Of course with record high suicide rates among those returning from the current war, not to mention the large number of veterans having to live on the streets, these veterans may get shunted to the back of the line.

Salaam.

No Torture. No Exceptions. Period.

I'm on deadline for my photos of and article about Jordan and teaching a full shift, which means I'm not the most serene or pleasant person to be around right now. However, I'll be putting on some tea and spending some quality time this weekend with this group of essays from Washington Monthly magazine. The series of essays on torture and why the U.S. should end the practice are written by authors from along the political spectrum, but all conclude practices such as simulated drowning (aka waterboarding) should be banned. There really should be no need for debate.

Salaam.

Will They EVER Learn?

Thanks to Laila over at Raising Yousuf for putting me on to this important article from Vanity Fair during our dinner together in Istanbul last week.

To those who pay attention this story is not at all surprising, however it's nice to see it finally breaking into the mainstream media to prove we're not a bunch of nutters wearing tinfoil hats spouting off about conspiracies. Well, at least not about this...

Salaam.

The Trouble with "Turkishness"

The idea that there is one model of "Turkishness" or even one ideal Turk, pushed for and accepted by many, fails to acknowledge the truth and beauty of the many peoples that make up this country. I've had friends whisper the fact that they're Kurdish. Diversity may bring certain challenges, one only has to look to my home country for that, but overall it made the country richer and stronger. Would I be the person I am today if I'd not grown up around people able and encouraged to celebrate their cultures and diversity? I don't think so. I am very interested to see Attila Durak's photographs of the true wealth of Turkey. Read this article from the NY Times to find out more.

Salaam.

Saudi Woman Takes A Spin & A Stand

In honor of International Women's Day, Wajeha Al-Huwaider went for a drive, something forbidden for women in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, and posted this video in protest. The ban is ridiculous. As far as I can tell, nobody had cars in Prophet Mohammad's time, so who's to answer the question "What Would The Prophet Drive?" Better yet, what would Khadija or Aicha drive? I prefer to imagine them behind the wheel of a hybrid, not the SUVs ubiquitous to the region. And who's to say he wouldn't have handed the driver's seat over to Aicha from time to time? Best of luck to Ms. Al-Huwaider and other the women of KSA waiting for their ride.

Of Course He Did...

Not surprisingly, Bush vetoed the waterboarding ban today. There's not enough support in congress for an override. It will be interesting to see McCain, who has called it torture in the past, spin this along the campaign trail.

Salaam.

Şimdi ben Istanbul'da

Just arrived home from Amman and landed smack in the middle of a stunningly beautiful spring day here in Constantinople. Now it's down to writing my article and editing and sorting all my photos.

While it's good to be home, there are some things I already miss about Jordan, but I know I'll be back there eventually, no inshallahs about it. Much love to all my friends back in the HK.

New photos are being posted as fast as I can get them up at Flickr.

Salaam.

Ana fi'Amman

I'm in Jordan until the beginning of March on a photography and writing job. Hoping to have a chance to get out of Amman at least once while I am here, but that depends on the weather and my progress with shooting. So far it's been lovely to speak Arabic again, though I did have to shake some sticky Turkish words out of my vocabulary the first day. Off to shoot and interview, luckily it looks like the rain clouds are clearing...

Salaam.

It's the Economy Stupid: Middle East Edition

While people in this part of the world have plenty to worry about, what I've heard about most are people's concerns about the steep increase in the overall cost of living, the costs of everyday and essential items such as food and fuel. Here's an article from the NY Times that is perhaps a bit too gentle about the issue of inflation, but worth a read. Just as there is beauty here, there are problems beyond what most people think of for those living here. The phrase "bread not bombs" takes on a whole new meaning.

Salaam.

Kar Var

Our second day of snow is almost over and it seems our third is on the way. I can hear the crackling of the snow on my window, intermittent, like the squalls that have broken over the city throughout the day. After work, I wandered around the city, bracing against winds that nearly blew me over and pellets of snow that stung my eyes, and had a wonderful time. Walking in the general direction of home I turned into Gulhane Park, green and cool in summer under the towering cottonwoods and now buried in snow and slush. Halfway through the park I stopped and turned back in the direction I'd come to find the blowing snow had left shapes that looked like bold white spines down the windward sides of the trees. Balancing carefully all day atop the snow covering the streets and sidewalks, providing little traction in the morning and simply facilitating falling later in the day, I am exhausted. I wonder what tomorrow will bring...

PS: New photos up at Flick (see button on the R. of your screen and click).

What I Have Been Saying for Years

Anyone want to send me this book? I have been saying for a long time to anyone who will listen that my home country has some sort of anti-intellectual element ingrained in its makeup. Sadly, many people simply deny it outright or become belligerently patriotic and narrow minded about the mere idea instead of taking time to discuss it. I believe it exists, is getting worse, and has serious consequences.

Salaam.

The Man in the Yellow Jacket

So, this is a preliminary post. I am writing out something by hand, trying to process this morning. Somehow, typing on a computer is too removed and I need the weight of a pen in my hand and the feel of the paper under my fist. You need some kind of contact when you watch a person throw themselves off a building to their death.

I didn't know the man in the yellow jacket who killed himself in Osmanbey this morning. He jumped from the fifth floor of the building next to the slim, pink house with intricate white trim where Ataturk once lived, not far from where Dink was gunned down last year, carrying his signs against the reversal of the headscarf ban, handwritten horizontally, seemingly quickly, in black marker on a flipchart like an office presentation. He had sat on the ledge for awhile, just sitting calmly and occasionally arguing with those who came to an adjacent window to try to talk him back inside. We had gathered at the window to watch, wondering why anyone would stage a protest where no one could see you. Some of us took pictures. I took a few, not denying the severity of a man on the roof, but perhaps simply fascinated by the oddity of it, never assuming it would end the way it did.

Even when he shouted at the man in uniform at the window and leapt to his feet, we assumed he would eventually sit back down. The, as quickly as he'd risen to his feet, he threw his signs and jumped away from the ledge, his arms and legs spread wide like a skydiver, in a direction that would avoid the orange inflatable pad firemen were assembling on the pavement. He landed behind the firetruck and for that I am honestly thankful. I had seen enough, still saw enough, without having to see his impact, the dull sound was sickening.

So, I am left to rewrite the piece I had been working on regarding the headscarf ban, left with a lingering anger towards a man I did not know, left wondering what the point was. My students drifted off to the cafe and I stood at the window and watched the firemen, now irrelevant, gather at the back of their truck for a smoke as the ambulance crew went about covering the body and pieces spread across the sidewalk, a person in the crowd capturing the scene on a camera phone, and pedestrians streaming by, stopping only to step into the street to avoid the police tape.