Sulaymaniya (Sula-man-yee-ah) in Northern Iraq is my latest and greatest work location. Here, I am Project Management Office (PMO) Programme Director for AsiaCell, who have been awarded the GSM cell-phone project for Northern Iraq.
I was contacted about this job and interviewed by the CEO while I was enjoying home life again, over Christmas. I was told that I came in second to a fellow from the UK who had spent years working in the area and was familiar with the environment and society. However, there was no bad feedback on the interview. Three weeks ago, the agency called me in the Netherlands and told me that things were not working out with the new guy. Could I be available in a week? I said I could resign immediately, fly back to Canada on Friday (I need to see my wife and daughter occasionally!), and leave for Iraq on Monday. They said they’d let me know. I heard nothing until Sunday, when I got a call from the agency asking if I could still leave on Monday. I told them no, but I would discuss the matter with my current employer and my wife. Since the specifications of the current project had changed, maybe they’d let me leave Amsterdam on Wednesday. They did, she did and I did.
Whew. So I signed a 12-week contract although I have to go home on April 19. I have a prior engagement that cannot be postponed. It is only 9 weeks from now, but it seems like a lifetime when you are away from your loved ones. Luckily, in my position, I have the freedom to call home whenever I want. While it helps me feel close to my family, it is a far cry from being there. Heather is remarkably talented as a mother, but our little girl needs her Daddy too.
So I flew out of Amsterdam on Wednesday AM and arrived in Istanbul, Turkey that afternoon. I had to pick up my luggage (16 Kilos overweight – 250 Euros!) and after clearing customs and getting a US $45 Turkish visitor visa (good for 3 months), I had to go to the domestic terminal. A luggage cart was $2.00 US and the guy gave me a half a million in change! Too bad it was Turkish Lira. 100 meters down the corridor, another guy took the cart away from me and gave me a different cart – no charge. It was not the only time I was to be confused during the trip.
I took the evening flight to Dyarbakir near the Iraq border and stayed in the “Class Hotel” which was, by local standards, very nice. I had to stay two nights since the guy I was relieving had arranged to brief me there, the next day. He was in a hurry to get back to the UK. I had 1.5 hours to learn the job from him. I also braved the street for a hundred meters in either direction, but the bustle and chaos had me fleeing for the sanctuary of my hotel room in minutes. I tried to describe the scene to Heather and Genavieve on the phone, but words cannot convey the madness.
(Click on the thumbnail to see the large picture)
I met a newly hired South African programmer at the hotel and we left Friday morning, in an old station wagon driven by an older guy who could not speak any English. After several hours, we stopped to prepare some paperwork and have a quick sip of Turkish tea and a hunk of pita bread. We had seen a lot of towers with machine guns and sand bags during our trip along the Syrian border. The highway followed the border for miles. Our average speed was 100 kph. Although I took some pictures, it was clear that it made the driver nervous, especially in the towns, so I stopped. Descriptions of many parts of the trip will have to wait until I return home and can sit with my family around the fireplace sipping a glass of wine.
Just before the border, the driver pulled over beside one of the many huts that lined the highway. A couple of guys came out with a hose and pail and siphoned all the gasoline out of the tank. Money exchanged hands and we drove on with the low fuel indicator shining brightly. Luckily the drive was short. We were told later that the price of gas in Turkey was about one US dollar per liter and in Iraq it was 2 cents per liter. I calculated that the driver made about 10 bucks extra for his trouble. Not bad in Turkish terms. About 14 million and a couple of days wages!
When we got to the border of Iraq, we slowly made our way through (I think) 6 different checkpoints. About half were Turkish and the other half Iraqi. One Turkish soldier searched the South African’s bag and found a binder containing a piece of paper with a bit of information on Iraq. He noticed that Kazakhstan was on the map and shouted “No Kazakhstan!” at me several times. I’m not sure why he thought we might be going there, since it was in the opposite direction, but maybe he was making a political statement. Anyway, when he folded the map and indicated he wanted to confiscate it, I told him to knock himself out. Maybe he didn’t have the Internet or a printer at home.
After running the gauntlet of machine-gun-toting guards and the checkpoints, we pulled over again and changed vehicles to a new Pathfinder with 2 drivers. We noticed that big trucks were queued for miles on both sides of the border. I asked one of the drivers how long they waited to pass through. 10 days was about the norm. OK, driving here for a family vacation is definitely out.
We stopped for a quick bite to eat – rice and chicken – my favorite. It might turn into the Gondola Pizza of the Middle East for me. Then we were off again, only this time we drove 140-160 kph on very bad highways. The locals seem to want to drive in the middle of the road and only pull over at the last moment. You pass everything from horse-drawn wagons, to heavy trucks. Lots of beat up taxis. Nobody passed us.
There were numerous checkpoints as we headed for Sulaymaniya. The drivers seemed to know what to say and they passed us through each time without a problem. We went past one of the buildings in Erbil where the bombs went off week before last. Many cars in Erbil had black flags on their antennas as a symbol of the bombings. It was a green and white building, but mostly black now. I did not take pictures. There were just a few too many machine guns.
Then, just before dusk, we had a tire blow at 160 kph. That was fun. I thought someone shot at the truck. How would I explain this to Heather, I thought. I promised her I would NOT get shot. It was a condition of my employment. The guys changed the tire quickly, because it is bad business to be caught helpless after dark, on the side of the road. We were back on the road again in half an hour and stopped at a few places to see if they could patch the tire. They couldn’t and soon we were driving along again at a more leisurely 120-140. The road was full of potholes and it is common to drive with no headlights after dark here. When you do turn on your lights, you actually put them on high beam when another car is approaching. The horn is also used frequently as both notification that we are zipping by and as an insult to anyone driving 40-60 kph – and there were lots of them.
Another couple of hours brought us to Sulaymaniya. I napped for half an hour as we sped along. The South African guy couldn’t believe it. He was petrified for the entire journey. I, on the other hand, have terrified both friends and family driving in Warsaw. We checked into the Ashti Hotel when we arrived at 9 PM. This is the second best hotel in town. The rooms are dirty and there is no bath. Just a campground-style shower. They have a menu with 50 items on it, but only 10 are available at any given time. The best hotel is the Palace. The CIA has the 5th floor reserved there and there are barricades and armed guards all around it. The company had reserved me a room there, but I am told the rooms aren’t any cleaner. To me the trade off comfort vs. security is worth it. I think that the Palace is a lot more of a target than the Ashti. The Ashti has one guard. When I found out that the Ashti had been hiding a suite from me I moved in there that night!
Some other notes: half a broiled chicken and rice is a normal meal. It is also quite tasty. They make great bread here. A loaf is about 3 cents. A can of Diet Coke is 20-25 cents depending on your haggling ability. (Sometimes they pay me!!!) They have huge bins of nuts… cashews and pistachios are my fave. They just won’t give me coffee in the morning. The toilets are immense. They tell me it is for what we at home call “dive-bombing”. Ask me about it over a beer sometime. I’ve just hired a Project Administrator. I think I will call her Asia. (AsiaCell?!?) BBC world news, the fashion channel and a movie channel are available in English on TV. No CNN! I’m working 12 hours per day 7 days per week and I am very busy. A good coffee pot that will grind beans is 65 USD. I bought two. One for the office and one for my suite. One USD will get you 1,300 Iraqi Dinars. They have beautiful gold jewelry made from gold from Iran. It is very cheap. I intend to festoon my family! If we want to go somewhere we can requisition a driver. It is safe to walk around though. Younger Iraqis always open the door for older people. I have the door opened a lot for me. When I went to pick up a flat of Diet Coke and a couple of cans fell out, young men rushed to help me. It’s a social custom and they respect their elders a lot more than we do at home. Everyone in Kurdistan would open the door for our friend Jim. Calls to prayer are 5 times per day. People pray in the streets here. It’s kind of comforting. They are making me up a security pass that will allow me to move around the country with impunity. If it has a bull’s-eye on it, I will keep it in my pocket. Coffee prices are high. Olives are cheap. They have huge wok-like pots full of them on the street corners. My room is about $30 per night. There is lots of fresh fruit. There is plenty of beer and I bought a liter of Canadian Club with 5 cans o’ Diet Pepsi for 10 bucks. They exchange US dollars here as well as new Iraqi money. No Saddam bills. Some of the vegetables look very strange here. Those black tents worn by many older women are called Abbas – I think. The security guard outside our office keeps leaving his AK-47 on the chair and running to the bathroom. I may have to have a “chat” with him. (Politely!!!) AsiaCell just passed the 100,000-subscriber mark. That middle-eastern music is never going to grow on me. They have an English radio station here. Somewhere on the dial. I bought a radio/alarm clock. The night clerks sleep at night. Wake up calls often do not happen. They have a “MacDonal” Restaurant here. Golden arches and all. Only it is unaffiliated with the Ronald’s we all know and love. I might try a Mac-shish kabob if I get brave enough. There is a US presence here. We’ve seen a few soldiers and CIA guys. They changed their name from CIA to something else to confuse us, but they are still CIA. No sign of Osama here, though. They say there is good fishing in the big lake nearby. Hmmm. We are in a valley surrounded by small mountains. It gets to +40 frequently during the summer. No mosquitoes - yet - but it is +12ish during the day and +6ish at night. There is no airport here. One is being built. ETA - 6 months. I won’t be here. Elections are in June and there are two major Kurdish warlords vying for power. Everyone expects civil war. All in all, it’s better than Tuktoyaktuk here.
I’ll try to add interesting photos to this web site as often as possible.
So that is the poop, as they say. It does not seem as dangerous as we thought it might be. Yet there is always the chance of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. That can happen anywhere, though. I have unlimited calls home – one more perk. My timer is clicking and there are only 67 more sleeps to go until I am sleeping in my own bed again. I can still be reached via my normal E-mail address. When the Internet is up, I try to check at least once every day. And I’m able to update Genavieve’s web site from afar right now.
Heather is holding down the fort in the land of ice and snow right now. She’s nervous for me but she’s a trooper. I would love to have her come and visit and we have been talking about the possibility. G might be a little too young and a bit too blond to risk it. But it is such an interesting place and the people are very nice that it is a shame it’s not a tourist destination. Sadly there are just a few too many oddballs around that haven’t blown themselves up yet. When I finish this contract, though, I’ve proposed that Heather and Genavieve pick a spot for us to go on a couple of week vacation. Somewhere safe, somewhere calm, somewhere where we can sip Pina Coladas, talk about our future and make up for still more lost time. One does these things so that one does not have to do these things. But we certainly can sit in our dotage and think back on these times and reflect on what we have gained and what we might have missed. And that, my friends and family, is that.
Blessings upon you all…. Sim sala bin
Steve