January 6, 2003
Awakened Woman's Circle is working for peace
Letters from Iraq
written by Catholic Worker Cathy Breen
December 22, 2002
Dear Friends,
This morning, Sunday, several of us needed to go to the Iraq Residents Office to get our visas renewed. For me this is one concrete way to confirm God's plan to stay on in Iraq, as it is not a given that any of us will be granted extensions. While waiting for some of the others to assemble in the tiny lobby of the hotel, I was speaking with Ammar who works behind the counter. I was commenting that I'd heard on Radio France International (short-wave) that President Bush plans to release intelligence information "piece by piece" to the Security Council in order to prevent leaks or the chance that equipment or whatever might be moved.
I've felt a new sense of foreboding in the air the last couple of days. Yesterday I was asked by an Iraqi woman on the street close to the hotel if I was with the U.N. UNICEF has an office only 3 blocks away from the hotel. As I answered I gave her a "magic sheet". She read the first few lines that identify me as part of the peace team. She replied in Arabic something about her son and bombs? I could only surmise that she was speaking about the Gulf War or the 1998 Desert Fox attack. The only words I could say in Arabic were "In Shallah, La Harb" (God willing, no war). At one point she looked at me pleadingly and said in English "I think - will be war." We both stood helpless and wordless for a moment before parting ways.
Getting back to the conversation with Ammar at the hotel, he asked me if I'd seen Ameriyah? This is the shelter in Baghdad that was struck by 2 US missiles in February of 1991. Some 500 people, mostly women and children, had fled there believing they would be safe from the bombing. They were literally incinerated at 4:00am in the morning as they slept. "I live next to it," Ammar said. "I saw the bodies. I was 11 years old. I am now 24 years old." I would have guessed his age at 34 years. Sadly I replied that yes I'd been there. Actually, I visited the shelter on my first day in Baghdad on October 28th. I think that the memory of that place will never leave me. I stood before Ammar helpless, speechless. There are no words to say, no way to bring back the dead.
Later on the way home from the visa place (we'd received a 7 day extension and were told that it would be the last, but we'd been told that on previous occasions), I bought a few carrots, tomatoes and 2 chicken legs to make a hearty soup for everyone. Chicken soup for whatever ails you. Oh, that it were that simple. As I was in the kitchen chopping and cutting, Modafer, one of the young men who works at the hotel came up to me and said in broken English "Your soldiers.in Kuwait." The news of the increased mobilization of U.S. troops to the Gulf area has been in the news. I stood there, not knowing what to say, unable to reply. Unable to reassure either of us.
Working in the kitchen on occasion has allowed me to enter somewhat into the lives of these young Iraqi men who work at the hotel. Of the six or seven who work there, there are four or five that I have the most contact with. I can tell that they are getting used to my presence there and that some of the initial awkwardness has passed. One young fellow has a favorite music tape he plays and he croons along. It is so dear to observe, and I ask him if he understands the words. It is a love song in English. He nods yes to me, although he doesn't seem to speak any English. I often think of the dreams and fears these young men must have. I am sure they are much the same as the dreams of young people everywhere. They are fun to be around, to watch them roughhouse, laugh and joke together. Their energy is contagious, and they don't seem to mind a question about what this or that is called. Onion, garlic, squash, cooking pot.
A little while later Modafar appeared with a piece of paper in hand. He'd gotten Ammar at the counter to write him the following: "To my friend with respect. Dear Cathy.. I want you learn me some english language because I need some words to help me in my work here if you have enough time for this. I will be grateful for your lovely soul and to your smiling face. Your friend Modafer." You can imagine how touched I was by this gesture. I have to think how blessed I am that we are able to speak to one another from the heart. Perhaps the greatest gift for me this Christmas season in Iraq is to experience that no person or political force can keep us from realizing the power of love. I greet you also in this same spirit, dear friends.
Love Cathy
PS Dec. 23, Just heard on BBC that US doesn't want to release its intelligence info as it would alert other countries as to the type of intelligence technology the US uses. How can we fail to recognize the absolute falseness of such statements. We are playing with human life.
December 29, 2002
Dear Friends,
Warm greetings to you from Baghdad, as the weather grows cold here. I understand that many of you have been snowed in. How nice that sounds.
I was up earlier than usual this morning so I could get a letter written to one of my brothers to send with some Canadians leaving Baghdad today.
The longer I am here the harder I am finding it to write. But I will try. Maybe some of the same things I wrote to my brother
Today 3 of us need to go to get our visas extended. God willing. Here the fear of war and anxiousness is growing. People are afraid. More than fear, I find myself fighting a deep sadness and despair over the situation. A constant sense of disbelief that this could possibly be happening.
Yesterday I attended a drama class at the English Department of the University of Baghdad. "Waiting for Godot" is the play that the class was studying. The class was conducted in English, and we'd been invited by the professor to sit in. I am not familiar with this play. At one point the professor Saad said "Are we not all waiting for Godot? as a symbol, as waiting for God, as waiting for salvation from the inferno of waiting?
Wed spent some time with him prior to the class in his office and in the library, so we had ample time to visit. He told us that during the Gulf War he and his wife slept on top of their two boys in order to protect them from the bombs. Their then five-year-old stopped talking and when he began again it was with a stutter. Saad has family in Belgium and the son was sent there for treatment.
After a long time he became better. Now he is beginning to stutter again. He is seventeen years old. Saad's whole family, (brothers and sisters) have left Iraq. But he says he will never leave. He will stay and teach the students, giving them all that he can. He said at one point looking directly at me "The last time it (the war) was terrible, but this time it will be the end. I have no doubt that we will all be killed." He was not seeking sympathy, only stating what he believed.
I told you about Ammar, the young man who works behind the desk downstairs. That he lives next door to the Ameriya shelter where about 500 people were incinerated by two U.S. missiles in 1991 after they fled there seeking safety. He told us that he had seen the bodies, that he had been 11 years old at the time. The other day he told me that his wife is 6 months pregnant, expecting their first baby. He said that he is afraid for her and the coming baby. It is just unimaginable to me that we are intending to go to war against these dear people. We are mad. A Russian reporter asked me on Christmas eve outside the church where I'd gone to attend mass "Are you afraid? What if the bombs come?" You know what I fear more than the bombs, I thought later that night? I fear for the soul of my nation.
And so we are all here waiting. I see someone with a can of kerosene go into his house. I hear that people are trying to dig wells in their yards (if they have a yard). Scripture tells us not to be afraid, that there will be wars and rumors of wars. I don't want to be in the country that is dropping the bombs. God help us. I am so distraught. Love Cathy
December 30th
I have a bit of time so I'll write something more before I send this off to you. Although at first it seemed that we would be denied a further extension, Peggy, Cynthia and I were able to get permission until the 15th of January. (over)
Last night as we waited for the arrival of a 15 person Christian Peacemaker Team delegation (for a 10 day stay), we met as a large group. One of the items
that we discussed at length was the possibility of holding a public action over New Years. As opinions varied a great deal among us, we decided to sleep on
it. This morning over breakfast Charlie shared his thoughts on a possible action. I am very much in agreement with the main idea.
Charlie is a vet in his early 70s. A big man, a gentle man, a man of few words. He says that he has never in his life felt so strongly that we are at a critical juncture historically. We need to pray for the leaders he said. We need to fast. The need to fast has come to me a lot lately, but I tend to shy away from any publicity surrounding a fast. We spent time envisioning different possibilities. A tent set up across from the U.N., a constant prayer presence, but outside the tent perhaps IPT people available to speak with the press? We shall see how this is received in the larger group at this afternoons meeting.
Just before the meeting last night I heard on BBC radio news that Colin Powell said that "a standoff with Iraq cannot go on indefinitely" and that troops, aircraft and warships are now en route to the Gulf. The very next item in the same tone of voice was that the U.N. Weapons inspectors now in their 30th day "have so far found no evidence that Iraq is hiding arms." Is the whole world going mad?
In anticipation of the delegation's arrival, Cliff asked me yesterday afternoon if I'd cook dinner, or prepare a soup for everyone. Our neighbor Amal had left a message to stop by as she had been sewing a couple of outfits for me which were now ready. We laugh together as I tell her she is trying to dress me up to marry me off! The outfits are beautiful and are keeping me warm. When I arrived she insisted that I sit (on the floor) and join the family in a meal of soup with a meatball-like concoction. After what seemed like a not too disrespectful period of time I felt I had to leave to get busy with my own food preparation. When she heard about the group coming she insisted on making the same meal for them. She would not take no for an answer, and I accepted gratefully.
As it turned out the group didn't arrive until 10:00pm, and so we put off the dinner until tonight.
Well, dear friends, I will try to communicate more frequently with you, especially now as the fear and tension here becomes more and more palpable. Only Charlie and I are here presently in this hotel as Peg and Cliff have moved for the time being to be closer to the delegation. Like myself he is from a Navy family, so we were exchanging stories over breakfast along with the fasting/tent idea. I told him that along with Howard Zinn, one of my male heroes is my own dear father. He taught me more than anyone not just to complain, but to do something. He has never tooted his own horn or drawn attention to himself. I found out years after the fact, that he had quietly written letters to Congress/the State Department, pressing those authorities on to find his POW buddies that went down during the war. If you are reading this Dad, I thank you for your example.
Love, Cathy
December 31st 2002
Dear Friends,
The last day of 2002. As do many people I get reflective at the end of the year, maybe more so in Iraq without any of the usual diversions. Charlie and I had a time of silence (Quaker style) this morning and then some sharing and prayer. Our numbers are reduced to two presently as the Canadian women left and Peg and Cliff are with the delegation in another hotel. We both feel that the climate here is changing as war seems not only inevitable, but imminent. He on his bike and I on foot have noticed an increase in cold stares as we pass by. Yesterday I wondered if this was merely a projection of our own fears onto others.
I decided to make soup today for anyone who might come by, so I needed to shop for vegetables. This might seem like a small thing, but I have found that it is around places like the water spigot ( my experience in Bolivia) or at the local market where the real pulse beat of a country can be felt. The little vegetable market I go to was busier than usual, and I thought maybe it is because of the new year. In the shop a woman with whom I'd exchanged a few words on another occasion (and even given a magic sheet) came up to me. Looking intently at me and speaking in broken English she asked me "Are you happy here?" I had no idea what or how to respond.
A block or so from the hotel I presently call home, I saw another woman I'd also met at another time on the street. We greeted one another, and she looked at me asking fearfully "War? War?" She was not to be put off this time by my answer In Shallah (God willing), no war, peace. She made a gesture of bombs falling. "When you go?" she asked me. I tried to tell her, to indicate somehow that I planned to stay on through the bombing. I tried to say we are all sisters and brothers no? She actually seemed to understand me and took my hand. I invited her to come sometime to tea at the hotel. I am hoping to ask Saad at the hotel to help me translate a couple of sentences into Arabic to memorize for such situations. So I ask myself what is it I really want to say in just a sentence or two?
I have put my more formal Arabic lessons to rest for a bit, I just find it too hard at present. So its a word at a time now that Im learning. I was visiting briefly with my "old" teacher Faiz from the kiosk about an hour ago. Like so many others he has seemed anxious and sad lately. He told me that the price of bottled water has now doubled. He sells water in the kiosk, but also needs to buy bottled water for his baby's formula. "Everyone is buying up water now," he said. The Iraqi Dinar has devalued alarmingly in the last week or so. I told him how I had the sense that people on the street might be beginning to associate us (foreigners) more closely as the "enemy" now. While completely understandable, it is also quite unsettling. He shook his head in disbelief trying I think to help me shake off the feeling.
We began to talk about fear. He said that in the Koran it is written that "man" dies only once, and that the time of our birth and of our death is written even before we are born. I said that our scriptures say much the same. He continued "So we don't fear death. The man who fears death dies many times.but we fear for our jobs, for water, for electricity, for our children." In the hotel where I am there has been a lot of pounding yesterday and today, and I've been told that a big tank is being installed to hold water. So many people have asked me lately if I think there will be war, as if I should know what the powers to be in the U.S. are going to do. How I wish there were a way to ease their desperation, to put their troubled hearts to rest. But I find myself feeling desperate as well.
Last night my Muslem friend Amal next door cooked a meal of typical food for about 20 of us. This included the newly arrived 15-member CPT delegation. We brought the food over here to the hotel as Amal didn't have enough dishes to serve them in her home as she wished. It was obvious that she put her whole heart into the delicious meal and that she had enjoyed preparing it for us. She insisted however that we all come over after dinner for tea. I know that the folks were touched by the warm hospitality as well as the humble dwelling. Later on as I returned the pots and pans, she said as I thanked her and we embraced "An expression of my love for you, you are most welcome."
Most welcome,most welcome. What a lovely expression, no? I hear it often throughout the day used by Iraqis even at times among themselves. Well I will greet you now as we begin here in just a couple of hours the new year. I wish you peace dear friends, I wish all of us peace.
The peace of God that passes all understanding.
Much love, Cathy
Diana Lion, Director (Advocacy and Ministry)
Buddhist Peace Fellowship Prison Project
PO Box 4650
Berkeley, CA 94704
(Tel) 510.655.6169 x307; (fax) 510.655.1369
www.bpf.org
My current work is reflective of my own personal journey or, if you will, process of personal healing and transformation -- a process through which I hope others may benefit.
In the earlier stages of my artistic development, my work was focused largely on that which is termed "Realism," involving landscape and wildlife imagery primarily. I formed a very specific plan, and most times, a detailed idea and drawing, before ever going to canvas.
Over the past several years, I have experienced many breakthroughs in my personal life on a variety of levels, spiritually, emotionally, mentally and physically. This, of course, has dramatically expanded the directions of my work. It has been quite a process and a journey, and at times almost overwhelmingly exciting. It has opened new doors and pathways of creativity of which, previously, I could only have dreamed.
This newer approach involves the unilateral connection to that which one may term the "Zen Mind." This is a place of letting go of any and all attachments to the outcome of any piece of work. I make no plan. I meditate, I pray. I let go. I ask Spirit to guide my strokes. I then put paint to canvas and, layer by layer, images begin to appear before me. Sometimes I enhance them. Sometimes not.
This freedom of expression and exploration is bringing forth images which, I believe, possess the essential elements of spiritual healing. It continually teaches me more about myself and my connection to all within the web of life. In the past, I knew that I could "paint what I see." I am now learning that it is more important to "see what I paint."
My current work is reflective of my own personal journey or, if you will, process of personal healing and transformation -- a process through which I hope others may benefit.
In the earlier stages of my artistic development, my work was focused largely on that which is termed "Realism," involving landscape and wildlife imagery primarily. I formed a very specific plan, and most times, a detailed idea and drawing, before ever going to canvas.
Over the past several years, I have experienced many breakthroughs in my personal life on a variety of levels, spiritually, emotionally, mentally and physically. This, of course, has dramatically expanded the directions of my work. It has been quite a process and a journey, and at times almost overwhelmingly exciting. It has opened new doors and pathways of creativity of which, previously, I could only have dreamed.
This newer approach involves the unilateral connection to that which one may term the "Zen Mind." This is a place of letting go of any and all attachments to the outcome of any piece of work. I make no plan. I meditate, I pray. I let go. I ask Spirit to guide my strokes. I then put paint to canvas and, layer by layer, images begin to appear before me. Sometimes I enhance them. Sometimes not.
This freedom of expression and exploration is bringing forth images which, I believe, possess the essential elements of spiritual healing. It continually teaches me more about myself and my connection to all within the web of life. In the past, I knew that I could "paint what I see." I am now learning that it is more important to "see what I paint."