I'll try to get Adam to take that rib back.....

Last week, it was announced that one volunteer was needed to transfer to Basra. For reasons including more opportunities for promotion and the more relaxed atmosphere that comes with a smaller, growing base, I submitted my name. On a day which I will not disclose on a public blog but in the near future, I will take a 100-mile Blackhawk ride to Basra, to work there permanently. I am very excited. And handsome. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Basra
Please click on the link, as the history of Basra is quite interesting. Legend says the Garden of Eden was there.....as my friend Matt Write cleverly told me, I should "try to get Adam to take that rib back". Sinbad the Sailor hails from Basra, as well. I wonder if there is still a cherubim with a flaming sword, guarding the Garden's entrance.....I doubt it.
When I broke the news to my Iraqi and Injun workers, they were genuinely sad. You need to understand that we work together over 13 hours a day, 7 days a week, and have grown to be friends. Though they work under me (not in the way Matt Haley wishes he could be under me, oh snap), I treat them as human beings, as I have written about in past posts. After I informed them of my transfer, one of them pulled me aside and told me, "you leave, no good. you stay. you good man, mr Jim." This just about broke my heart, knowing that the seemingly simple things I do for them mean so much. A couple of times a week, some of them will quietly ask me if I'm going to the PX (camp store- Post Exchange), and if so, if they gave me some money if I could buy a case of Mountain Dew for them. Once in a while I'll surprise them with Red Bulls or Monster energy drinks, which they love. Or, as I've written about, the much-needed dental operations or extra food we sneak out of the chow hall to supplement their budget-saving rice/bean diet. Even the constant "Good morning, Gandu!" brings laughter and uplifted spirits. I will say again, I am not trying to boast about my good deeds, only to show that these guys are no different than you or me. They are here trying to pay off debts, support families, save for an arranged marriage, or even rebuild after the 2004 tsunami (I am friends with 2 Sri Lankens who had to literally swim to safety that day). The only difference is that they were born in a 3rd world country, and I happen to be born in America. That is it. Senses of humor are the same (with mine being slightly funnier), basic values are the same, the desire to work to better one's life is the same, which brought all of us here in the first place. I will say again- extremists aside, people are basically the same. Everywhere. I just happen to be better looking than most.

This hyena was caught in Al Asad- it tested positive for rabies, Leishamaniasis, and mange.Occasionally we see one trotting across a road here.

I Am Not Mature

"hello my brother how are you i am going to karbla tom perhaps i find girl f there you know all girls there beatfuls and the eyes coulors brown all the ways good ihope you fine iam happy to hear this news about your vacation and perhabs when i gets on any chance to leave iraq to usa i will go to unversity your f hadi ali -iraqi" The latest email from an Iraqi friend, Hadi.
A while back, I wrote about my buddy, Hadi, who delivers propane to us every couple of weeks. He speaks english so well that he could easily be a translator, and, in fact, hopes to become a translator for the US Army, very soon. However, he fears for his family's safety, as he says "militias from Iran are back in town and threatening everyone working with Coalition forces". He gave me an example of just how dangerous it can be.....
His father died of a heart attack in 2007. Prior to his death, he had worked with the British troops in Basrah, where Hadi is from. One night, in 2005, he did his nightly duties of locking up all the doors and windows in his family's home.....but forgot one. In the middle of the night, they were woken up by a group of "very large men, Iran militia men". They beat him. They shot his younger brother in the leg, and they kidnapped his father. This part of the story was difficult to understand, but apparently the British troops whom his father worked with were able to find him and rescue him just before he was executed.
Now that things have improved in Basrah, Hadi, 21, works with us, but is afraid of the apparent growing Iranian presence in Basrah. He hopes to one day go to college in the US.
In other news, my daily communication "problem" with the servers in the chow hall is as funny as ever. I have learned that "Ma Chikini" is Nepali for "mother fu@%er", so I make it a point to mispronounce fried chicken when ordering this dish, instead requesting "fried ma CHIKINI". At first I am greeted only with blank stares and, "yes sir, fried chicken, sir...." To this I just respond more emphatically with "fried MA CHIKINI, please". When they realize I was saying "chikini" on purpose, they all burst into laughter. Whatever it takes to keep spirits lifted.

Gandu, not Ghandi

Many adjectives have been used to describe my rather particular brand of humor: brilliant, witty, jocular, facetious, dry, intelligent, ingenious, keen, funny, piquant, amusing, piercing, clever, audacious, and hilarious. A rather long, egotistical list, you say? Perhaps. However, one word exempt from this list is 'mature'......

The man to the left (my left) of me is Artan, my Albanian friend. Of course, our crazy friend, Sattar, whom I recently wrote about regarding his imbibing of blue toilet disinfectant, is being as classy as he knows how. (again, click on picture to enlarge)

Artan and I share a similar flavor of humor, and laugh all day long whilst working together. One thing we have taken to doing is learning new Hindi words and phrases, as there are thousands of Indians (dot indians, not feather indians) working as subcontractors here in Iraq. We learn the usual greetings and farewells, but alas, our education sessions always seem to include inappropriate words and phrases. What we do with our newfound knowledge is reflective of said missing word above, though funny nonetheless. On a daily basis, we see at least 50 Indians working in our chow hall. Most of them know us, as we exchange mutual greetings with them while being served our food. Occasionally, we use one of the new Hindi words we've learned, such as "shukria", which is 'thank you'. This usually brings a smile to a young Injuns face, and brings me satisfaction to be reaching out to the subcontractors, whom are generally treated with disgust and disdain by our government and its holier-than-thou contractors. Lately, however, I have been implementing my new, inappropriate words into my greetings, and I have never laughed so hard in my life. Picture me moving through the serving line at the chow hall......I see the tasty, mashed potatoes that I would like to be served....so, I say "Hello, Gandu! Mashed potatoes, please!" I immediately see confusion on his face. "what did this guy just say? did he really say, 'gandu'?" As I'm moving further through the line, I repeat the word to the next indian, with my next food request...."Hello, Gandu! Chicken, please! Shukria, gandu!" By this time, all of the servers behind the line are looking at eachother, trying to stifle and hide their imminent laughter, so I tell them "I learn 'Gandu'! 'Gandu' mean 'friend!". Upon hearing this, they are erupting in laughter, sidesplitting laughter. I keep a straight face, pretending not to understand why they are laughing at me, knowing all the while that I just called each of them "homo", in their native tongue. "Gandu" means "homo", in hindi. I walk away, continuing my act of ignorance, trying to hide my own smirk.

Today, I broadened my act with phrases, such as "Mae teri gand marunga", which I pretend to think means "How are you doing?" In reality, this means "I want to have sex with you." When this is used as part of a greeting, the reaction is priceless. Their initial look of disbelief and shock, followed by some of the loudest laughter I have ever heard, is so funny that I need to start filming these and posting them on youtube. I am funny.

My Friends

A quick note- yes, Daniel Larusso from 'Karate Kid' was, in fact, based on the man in the front/right of this picture.

Each morning, I drive from my office to the front gate where I pick up our Iraqi workers. Most of them live in Nasiriyah or its surrounding villages, spend the day working on our base, and return to their homes at night. These are some of our Iraqi workers who work with me. I'm wearing my "shemagh", which one of my workers bought for me in Nasiriyah. I absolutely love it, as it's such a practical piece of gear. It keeps the sun off of the face and neck, protects the eyes and mouth from the blowing sand, and keeps the head cool. I plan on single-handedly making shemagh's fashionable in the US, should I ever decide to return.

The temperatures are finally approaching 100 degrees, which I love. I would prefer to be uncomfortably hot than uncomfortably cold, so I'm looking forward to summer. When you're in intense heat, you can always drink water and sit in the shade to find relief- however, there's no getting warm when you're in extreme cold. You can pile on the layers, but it's still cold and miserable- for me, anyway.

The base I'm working on is expanding at a rapid rate, though you probably don't hear this on the news. It is obvious that this base will be a permanent, US/Iraqi base, after the majority of US troops have returned home. For me, this means job security.

I'm enjoying myself a lot out here. I love working with the Iraqis, as we seem to get along rather naturally. Most of them seem to share my brilliant sense of dry humor, and I appreciate their toughness and work ethic. I respect them, and they seem to respect me. The fact that they know I was "mushatabariyah" ('warrior of the sea', Marine) in the Sunni Triangle back in 2004 helps this, but I also treat them like real men, unlike a lot of the Americans do. I have worked with several Iraqis who have told me that they preferred working with Marines over the Army, only because of the fact that the Marines treated them with respect, as opposed to just some 2nd class local national.