Through Middle Eastern Eyes

When I think of the Middle East, certain things come to me instantly: well spiced, very yummy foods, exotic, hypnotic music, and several good friends from college, that is, besides the obvious war in Iraq, which somehow feels very distant.

As stated in an early post, I am reading a book by Nuha Al-Radi called Baghdad Diaries: A Woman's Chronicle of War and Exile. It's a simply written book, a journal really, about the daily living in Baghdad during the first Iraqi War. It's a book that I picked up some months ago at a bookstore which was closing. It seemed interesting enough and being a woman, I was interested in understanding further how women, and in this case, Nuha Al-Radi live in Iraq, particularly in a time of war.

There's a certain amount of detachment that I sense in her words, which quite surprise me. Many of the pages are descriptions of day to day living, but cause me to consider how different her life must be from mine. She and her family were lulled to sleep not by music or a television, as the electrical infrastructure had been destroyed by our bombs and missiles, but to the sound of the US trying to take out their bridges and factories. Having no electricity meant that they lost their systems of refrigeration, lighting, pumping for sewage and water systems, and power to be informed through radio or television. Few had generators.

Their style of living changed, as they had to cook in new ways, often using their fireplaces. Not being able to use running water or toilets, they shared the same grassy areas that their pets and wild dogs used. The petrol had to be conserved, usually to check on family once a week or to buy necessary supplies. Families were out of touch with each other for weeks, particularly if they lived on opposite sides of the city - there were no phone lines. People never knew if their mothers and fathers or aunts and uncles were still alive. Homes were destroyed when our bombs missed their designated targets and sometimes even bomb shelters which housed entire families were hit, killing multiple entire families. I can't fathom losing my entire family at once. I'm maybe one-third of the way through the book and her family and friends, who once kept their sense of hope and humor about them, now sound without hope.

I tried to imagine what life would be like if the war was on our soil. Millions of people, who are innocent, suddenly live vastly different lives. How would we do? We're so used to our Starbucks drive thrus, the conveniences of running to get something whenever we need it, and truly living luxurious lives by most of the world's standards. And we haven't had to ration anything since WWII. It was a different time then, one where people were savers anyway. Our society has changed a lot since the days of saving everything for the "war effort". How about now?

It's a shame that so much death and destruction is caused, and affects those who really have nothing to do with the conflict that can't be resolved peacefully. How is peace, or better yet, democracy achieved in this way? Isn't democracy more of a process? Ours is every changing. My question is this... How can democracy be forced upon another country? Our democratic government has been a slow and ever-evolving process, one where the people help make choices. And, the people, when forming this country decided, for themselves, that this was what they wanted. Is democracy for everyone? It's certainly a question that I don't have the answer to, but I wonder in times like these, when so many lives are lost and so many families destroyed, and people are marking their territory in the garden next to their pets, is life better for them? The amount of money spent in forcing democracy on another country, the resources which have been wasted, the devastation to the environment, and to lives seems like a waste. What price is too high? Is there one?

I will admit, I was never in favor of this war. I even went to a few protests. It seemed like a bad idea to me. But, after having read this book, and seeing the destruction and pain through the eyes of a typical civilian gave me a new empathy towards those suffering through our bombs and blackened skies. And here I sit, with lighting overhead, an air conditioner keeping me cool, communicating my thoughts freely on a laptop, with no real concern for anything other than what I should wear to rehearsal tonight, I feel hopeless. My mind has been altered. I feel guilty that I live too good, not luxurious by American standards, but certainly by more than half of the world's population.

Viewing life through others' eyes keeps me in check sometimes. When I traveled to Peru, I really learned what poverty meant and I lived simply and conservatively while I was there. I came home a changed person, and also feeling so filthy that my people have so much and use up so many resources, when I knew the loving people that I met in Peru barely survive and have so little.

I don't have an answer. Life seems so unfair, and the world so unbalanced.