Middle Eastern Night at the MWR

The MWR is where soldiers and others on base go to relax, sit on real, authentic couches, use computers, play pool and watch television. Although the television's almost always tuned into wrestling, so I don't think you could call it relaxing. MWR stands for Morale, Welfare and Recreation, and every base has one of these places that ostensibly gives us a chance to unwind and take our minds off the war.

Not that you really have much opportunity to use one when you're on a 12-hour shift like me. Generally, if I'm not working, I'm sleeping or working out. But I do get over there to do a few things on the Internet that I can't do at work - such as writing on this blog, for instance, or watching videos on Youtube.

They've also got a host of activities going on over here all the time. There are volleyball tournaments, for example - Woe be unto anyone who challenges the Tongans. There are horseshoe stakes too - I'd love to play, but who wants to put their hands on a steel horseshoe when the ambient air temperature is 115? They also have evening events, from Karaoke to dancing. There's a salsa night and a country and western night. But the other evening, when I came by to check for an email I was awaiting, I stumbled upon "Middle Eastern Night."

I've always been of the opinion that the more traditional, the more authentic a form of music is, the more vibrant, exciting and lively it is. It's a product of evolution, not marketing, and I think that there's something special about it. When I was living Southwest Texas just after college, I used to go to a lot of Tejano dances in little dance halls in places like Uvalde or Crystal City. Places where the only Anglo folks in the whole crowd were me, my date and the Sheriff. But the music was fun, and no one cared.

I'm also a big fan of the blues, and folks like Muddy Waters or Robert Johnson. Rock and Roll in its early days still had some of that buzz, that vibe, that energy. Jerry Lee Lewis was fun. Chuck Berry made you want to get up and dance. And it sounded real, uncontrived. Not like the crap they put out these days.

The same is true of older country - the kind of Bob Wills, Ernest Tubb, Lefty Frizzell type of stuff - which is so much more fun and full of soul than "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy." Bottom line, if you need to do a poll or ask a focus group to tell you what good is, then you're not playing good music. And the music doesn't have to be old or dated, to have this energy. It just has to be true.

So as I came into the MWR the other night, I was greeted with the fun, exciting beat of the latest - but authentic - hits of the Arab music scene. Mostly the work of Egyptian pop stars - I watch them on MTV Arabia at the barber shop - it's got that unique beat, pulse and rhythmic singing that just makes you think of the Middle East, the desert, caravans and that kind of thing.

So I found myself typing away at the computer, matching time with my keystrokes t0 the beat of the songs. After a while, I finished what I was doing and came out into the main room to watch. There on the dance floor was an odd mix of people. Two obviously Middle Eastern women - probably translators - were the center of attention. One, wearing a short sun dress and high heels, was probably the best-looking woman I've seen in Iraq, or at least the best one outside of the Australian Air Force. The other wore tight jeans and a white blouse. Dancing to the beat, they raised their arms, lifted their heels and swayed around. You could almost imagine them in belly dancer outfits like some scene out of Lawrence of Arabia. Gathered around these women were an odd assortment of U.S. soldiers wearing their Army PT shirts and shorts, male translators wearing 1970s-looking button down shirts and Iraqi soldiers, who kind of hung off at the side of the room watching, not sure if they wanted to go into such debauchery as actually dancing within 10 feet of a woman.

The Egyptians and Lebanese men, of course, didn't care, and they were out on the dance floor in all their uncoordinated glory, having a good time. The dancing, of course, was tame by modern Western standards, and most of the time, the men and women didn't even touch. The one exception was when they gathered together in a line and danced together, kicking their feet out and yelling. Kind of like an Arabic version of the Cotton-Eyed Joe. My Arabic is limited, but I think I heard something like "Bull Shit!"

It was a fun time, and everyone was happy. These are good times. Our base hasn't been hit by a rocket in nearly two months (they used to hit us twice a week) and everyone here seems to have a bit more of a spring in their steps. Of course, there's still work going on outside the wire, and all these people had long hours ahead of them - pouring over captured enemy documents and translating their contents for the Americans and their allies - but tonight they could relax, let their hair down, and do what people all over the world all like to do - have a good time.

DUMBO MUST DIE!

The whole palace compound here is full of some pretty strange art. There are these life-sized stone chickens over by one of the buildings, but there's a photography ban over there, and I can't show them. Over in another palace, with a similar ban, there's a large bas relief of a kind of sylized Iraqi eagle and a battle scene.

But the weirdest piece of art is on a small side building along the lake. I call the piece "Dumbo Must Die!" Picturing an idealized Arab hunting scene, it shows several brave, courageous, tough Iraqi warriors taking down what is obviously merely a baby elephant. Worse than that, the elephant's already on the ground, his legs crumpled. Not only have they clearly exhibited manly prowess by taking down the most helpless and cuddly of pachyderms, but one of the hunters - with evident glee - is in the process of stabbing poor little Dumbo in the eye with a spear.

To give you perspective, this building has two large reliefs. The first is the ancient hunting scene, which one must assume was to tout traditional Arab fighting skill of the past. The second, is a modern counterpoint, which features the brave Iraqi soldier of the 1980s, charging into war against the Iranians. Led by a soldier who has just fired off a Rocket-Propelled Grenade, and exhorted by another who is wielding an AK-47 in one hand and shaking his fist, they charge off against the modern equivalent of dumbo.

It all looks kind of silly and hokey, and becomes a parody of the great virtues it's trying to portray, kind of like really bad art deco of farm and factory scenes in an old post office.

Today, after my shift was over at work, I went fishing in the lake with a buddy of mine, a Marine Captain from Montana named Chris. We stopped by the Dumbo palace and took a few photos.


Chris and I posing with the life-sized Iraqi soldiers. Just above the first, kneeling soldier, you can barely see the depiction of a Mi-17 helicopter. Ironically, about 20 minutes before we took this photo, we were buzzed by just such a helicopter - part of the new Iraqi Air Force.


Strangely enough, almost all of these soldiers bear a strong resemblance to Saddam Hussein.

DUMBO MUST DIE!

Palace Wildlife I

I work at the Al Faw Palace in the middle of what was once a gigantic hunting preserve/resort complex for the Ba'ath Party bigwigs in the Saddam Era. Virtually all the "wildlife" that was here is now gone, but there are a few notable exceptions.

The palace itself sits in the middle of a man-made lake, which is full year-round even in this dry, desert climate. Originally filled with water diverted from the Tigris River and it's many canals, it was used for boating, fishing and recreation by the elitists of the old regime.

It's most obvious residents are two flocks of geese which live in a kind of goose paradise on the lake. Although surrounded by thousands of armed Americans, the geese are not hunted, and certainly don't lack for food. That's because, like street urchins anywhere in the world, the geese have learned to beg.

Above: Iraqi geese eye my breakfast, hoping for a meal.

Every morning, as soldiers make the trip back from the chow hall after their breakfast, the geese know the game. They swim to the mainland from their small goose island and climb ashore. Ambling over to the gate, they set up watch. Inevitably, a soldier walks by, holding a small container of Cocoa Puffs or Fruit Loops and rattles them around. The geese squawk, dip their heads and waddle over.

They're persistant too, and woe be unto the soldier who passes by them and doesn't pay tribute. One in particular - who must be a female because she never stops talking - is very aggressive, and will snap at other geese or come up behind you and tug on your pants leg with her bill. Fortunately, however, there are usually plenty of folks willing to feed them, so they quickly get their full. Many soldiers - including myself - have gotten such a great rapport with the geese that they literally eat out of our hands. Only occasionally do they bite - inadvertently - but their mud-covered bills often leave your hands dirty once you're done.

My predecessor, LT Miller, used to feed them religiously every day. One day, the geese had strayed over by the Iraqi compound. With an Iraqi soldier eyeing us inquisitively, LT Miller tore up bits of a pancake and threw it to the geese. Who knows what the Iraqi guard thought. Probably that we crazy Americans were feeding the geese better than many Iraqis are eating.

The geese, of course, devoured the pancakes for a good two or three minutes. Then, almost in perfect unison, they stopped, turned, and dashed across the parking lot. There, where a small puddle of water had formed, they quickly began drinking large amounts of water. The pancakes, it seemed, had dried them out completely.

The geese are divided into two camps - which hate each other to an amazing degree. Often they will form up outside the gate and have great squawk fights, occasionally charging and driving off members of their rival group. We've taken to referring to the two clans as the Shi'a geese and the Sunni geese.


Every now and then, of course, the goose population gets a little boost, with the addition of a few new members. About a month or so ago, several new chicks hatched out. Here is one of them. He started out completely yellow and has slowly darkened, then lightened, to become more and more goose-like.

A mother goose and chick.

Two chicks at slightly different ages.