Men On The Wall

The house that I am living in is a block from the main street called Soloman. Suleimaniya is named after Solomon. There is a high retaining wall just across the street, facing south, and it is covered in large painted murals. President Talibani who is from here, occupies the center of the wall. There is wonderful "tromp L'oiel" (sp) painting that shows a walled in garden with urns full of flowers below his portrait. The depth makes one feel like you could walk right into it. Talibani is flanked by other men, and I have yet to learn who they are. Craig from CPT House said he was walking with a friend who asked a woman who lives here. The answer was "old Kurdish men". 

I asked Sirwan who runs the school and who has lived here his whole life. He said something vague about leaders of the Kurdish resistance and that he didn't pay too much attention and couldn't remember who is on the wall. I am learning slowly what people mean by what they say or don't say. 

From the wall can be seen several high rise buildings, most still under construction. A very large completed one has some interesting architectural detail, blue tinted plate glass and steel. There is no sign indicating who occupies the building or what its function is. There seems to be plenty of commercial space for small shops in the other malls. Any manner of clothes, women's accessories, and other goods are available at the shops. The bazaar is full of foods and goods as well; it is a great bustle of noise, color, and smells. There are piles of cheap plastic goods, many items which break with their first usage. What kind of economy relies on the manufacture of items that are so disposable yet stick around forever, and an economy that is dependent on buying such junk from so far away? Our stupidity is laughable even as it is a real crime against each other and our environment.  

I spent the other night at the hospital with one of our housemates and teacher who is seriously ill with a bowel obstruction. She will have to return home very soon. I saw many more military uniforms than medical staff in white. Shorsh Hospital is about five years old and on the outskirts of the city. The halls have lovely white and green marble tile and the staff of doctors were very kind and helpful. One is searched before entering through the armed gate. Banaz, Sirwan's wife described it as a "political" hospital. I think that means that the political leaders and their families receive care here. We are quite fortunate as American's to be given care here and I can't help but think about Baghdad, 4 hours south of here, a war zone, with such medical inadequacy. The suffering that goes and could be avoided. There is no discussion here about what is going on in the south. Banaz did make a comment about the oil economy; if 17% of the revenues were used for social programs, Kurdistan would be transformed. 

Today I must make a confession that I will not be staying the full three months. I am undergoing an internal battle about whether I have the strength and will to stick it out, suffer, and just do the work. The kids in class are very out of control and that makes it impossible to teach. It is my failure of course and I will work on it in the next weeks ahead. Teachers and nurses are to be elevated as noble and amazing after my experience here.

I end today's blog with a quote I found in a copy of Granny's New Testament. "I shall raise a great edifice on mere nothingness; that is to say, on your humility, surrender, and love." Words that were sent to Sister Josefa. The card feels like a precious relic in my hands, and I feel both encouragement and inadequacy as I contemplate it.