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Iraq, Elections, Life, Hotels

Baghdad journal:
Fantasies, castles and Kellogg, Brown & Root

By Beryl Wajsman

Saturday, December 10, 2005

Col. (ret.) Peter Reynolds, a graduate of Sandhurst, has recently joined the

Institute for Public affairs of Montreal's advisory Council as an International associate. He has just accepted a three-month consultancy with UNOPS in amman and Baghdad to help in the work of ensuring that the next round of Iraqi elections in December run smoothly. He arrived in amman just before the recent round of terror attacks. He sent us an exclusive report entitled "a View from amman, Or How Not to Read the Signs".

The following is the actual journal of his first days in Baghdad.

Col. Reynolds' distinguished career began with extensive service in the British army of the Rhine in Germany. Promoted to Major in 1983, he went on to serve as Second-in-Command of the 32nd Heavy Regiment Royal artillery in the Gulf War. after the war, he served in the Ministry of Defence in London. In 1998, he deployed on a six-month operational tour to Sarajevo. His last military appointment was Director of Public affairs at NaTO Supreme Headquarters allied Powers Europe.

He has spent the last few years in the United States and maintains strong links with the military by lecturing to senior NaTO officers on media and psychological operations. His consulting work also includes lecturing in field security and stress management. Most recently he has completed the OSCE training course organized by the Foreign and Commonwealth office and has been involved in EU crisis management assessment. His analysis of the failure of the European Political Union appears in the forthcoming issue of the Institute's journal BaRRICaDES.

~Beryl Wajsman

Settling in amidst bombs and bombast

The day had started pretty normally for this part of the world, a suicide bomber climbed on to a bus in a bus station, just across the river, not far from the Green Zone and blew himself and some 30 passengers into the next world. at the same time the spate of Improvised Explosive Device (IED) and Vehicle Borne Improvised Explosive Device (VBIED) attacks continued throughout the country. For the average citizen, life continues to be difficult, but from my conversations with our local colleagues it would appear that there are some glimmers of hope. I admit that my colleagues are not a fully representative cross-section of Iraqi society, but nevertheless I detect some hope that progress will be made soon.

There are innumerable rules about driving in the Green Zone. Depending on which organization one works for, these can run to 10 or 20 pages. However, most organizations preclude their members from walking because of the dangers of stray mortar rounds and other nasty surprises. Thus, not unnaturally, bicycling is mostly frowned upon. However, amidst all the dangers, by lucky happenstance I ran across my old friend Slavan.

Slavan is a Bosniac and was my old Head of Security in Sarajevo many years ago. Gone was the gentlemanly handshake routine which saves all Brits from committing a social faux pas, and any display of real feeling, we hugged at length. He earned his spurs as a medic on the front line at Sarajevo airport and has probably seen more blood and nastiness in his life that any of us ever will. It was wonderful to see him again and he is responsible for our security here, having been on missions in africa and assorted other places over the last couple of years.

The weekend was fast approaching since Friday is our Saturday, while you think it is really Thursday. In the way of approaching weekends everywhere, the email inboxes start to bulge around lunchtime and the fast, and then outrageously fast balls start to appear about 4 p.m. This day had been no different, but at least the weather played its part and the election material deliveries were reasonably on schedule.

My guide and I spent the day wandering the offices of the Interim Government Building, which is where I am currently housed, or rather a wing thereof, and touring the UNaMI offices in another compound near the river. I was overflowing with paper by the time lunch came around and had suffered information overload what with the many names and faces of my future work colleagues.

Thus a little shopping was obviously in order and off to the PX we went.

The PX

It, too, is in another compound, which, as they all are, is surrounded by very tall T-walls and can only be approached via check points manned by a variety of nationals and organizations. They have also found a novel use for old tank tracks here. Someone had the bright idea to use them as traffic calming measures and in most cases they have been sunk into the surface of the road with the flat side facing up. In some cases insufficient attention had been paid and these traps had a sort of spine of sprockets jutting from the track. This may help to explain the inordinate amount of tires that are being consumed here.

We arrived in the car park of the PX and found a space within walking distance of the facilities, which included a Green Bean Café, a burger joint and believe it or not--a car dealership. While they were unable to promise delivery to Baghdad, they could promise a great deal and the car would be waiting for you when got back to the US.

The entrance of the PX is lined with various local dealers attempting to offload a variety of knick-knacks and souvenirs and then one enters the emporium itself. It consists of two rooms. The first contains the snacks foods, cigarettes and three varieties of underwear in the military style and colours, as well as very few T-shirts, but some branded running shoes. Sadly, you would have to have size 13+ feet to find any that fitted you.

The back room had the electronics, consisting of three sizes of boom boxes, an assortment of TVs and DVD players and a skimpy selection of music CDs. In addition, here one could also find the odd lead for computer connectivity, some batteries, but not aa size, and two IBM laptops. Unfortunately, my partner lingered a little too long over the computers and was given to understand that these were not really worth buying, since IBM had sold their computer manufacturing division to Lenovo and apparently the Chinese had replaced the internals with cheap stuff from some sweatshop in downtown Shanghai. However, in a couple of weeks he would be getting some Toshibas in, which had the hard disk capacity of a whale, the chip speed of lightning and would be half as expensive. at this stage I ran. Since they had no radios which could boast a short wave receiver, I left a little disappointed.

Of trials and elections

Saddam was in court yesterday and, of course every office here has a TV which was switched to the requisite channel. I am amazed that any work got done at all, since the local employees spent all day clustered around the tube vigorously discussing developments. There were not really many, apart from an adjournment, which will ensure continued employment for a whole lot of people.

Today was a bit of a wash-out. The main man refused to show and sulked in his abode. That did not stop proceedings, but there was not the usual clamor around the office TV and when the proceedings were suspended until 21 December, no one was surprised. However, not only were the judge and prosecutor in attendance, but they had ex-US attorney General Ramsey Clark in tow.

The heavies of the international press corps were however back in town, and life seems to be proceeding at its usual frantic pace. I just hope that the arrival of John Simpson, one of the senior BBC editors, in the Hotel Rasheed will have the effect of getting my shower fixed. I suspect I should not hold my breath.

Things may be about to go pear-shaped. This is a quaint English expression that indicates a premonition of future impending gloom and doom. Having already spotted Simpson a man, nay a senior and respected BBC journalist, not given to spending his time in the global cold spots as far as news is concerned, I was reliably informed by a nice young lady from Fox News that Geraldo was about to arrive. He will be here to cover the elections. Whether the elections are ready to be covered by him, I have yet to ascertain.

Preparations for the elections appear to be going well. The ballot papers and associated materials are being distributed as I write, to various air hubs in the country from whence they will be dispersed to 6000+ polling stations. The only fly in the ointment, apart from the apparent desire of some to stop the process altogether, would appear to be the determination of a panel that some of those named on the ballot papers are ineligible due to their past political associations.

The ballots have been printed, the tally sheets counted and labeled, the polling booths constructed and they are currently being dispatched around the country. Once in their designated warehouses they will be sent on to the regional polling centres and individual polling stations. In the intervening period these thousands of tons of materiel will be guarded to ensure that no-one interferes with it but my happy band of contractors who have occupied a number of reasonably secure locations throughout Iraq.

The election itself is being organized by three disparate groups. They are the Independent Electoral Commission of Iraq, the IFES and the Electoral advisory Division of the United Nations. I get the distinct impression and it is a very unfair one, that everyone wants to play, but no one wants to pay.

The Hotel Rasheed and other amenities

It must have been something in its heyday. a large Finnish designed construction filled with marble and wood. There are towering curved ceilings and subdued lighting to give a faintly European air. Regretfully, the current plumbing does not match the imposing grandeur of the décor. My initial brief contained strong warnings against leaving the taps turned on when the water stops flowing. There have been innumerable cases where individuals have flooded their rooms, and those below, because they left taps open as the water stopped running.

On day two, my shower head exploded and there are no plumbers here. In fact there is not much of anything here that can fix things. I have a TV in my commercial room, which currently costs some $145 per day, but no aerial lead or remote control and thus there is no way to switch the thing on or off. Numerous requests at the front desk, "yes", there is a front desk and, "no", the staff has not been paid for some many months now, have elicited absolutely no response.

On our one day a week off, Friday, there used to be tours to Saddam's bunkers but they stopped some months ago. The only places you can visit are Saddam's parade ground and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier or the PX. I looked for a shirt yesterday and they had nothing except two in XXL size. By now you are asking why I would want to buy a shirt. Well the local laundry contractor will only take bundles of five shirts if you want washing and ironing; otherwise you get washing and folding. I only have five shirts having decided that I would only bring stuff that I could abandon without regret. and by the way, T-shirts never get ironed, but they will take two pairs of trousers. What perverse brain thought these rules up? Thank goodness I have enough underwear and socks to be able to meet the laundry contractor's requirements. More about this later.

The food is provided in a DFaC (Dining Facility) by another contractor and they serve the usual three squares a day. I have no complaints and can only marvel at the choice on the breakfast menu, 99% of which will never pass my lips, as I am a coffee-only person in the mornings. Lunch and dinner are veritable feasts of meat and vegetables, pastas and power bars, and a huge variety of nasty artificially coloured desserts that would grace any birthday party for a bunch of six year olds.

as I am writing, a bunch of guys are on the soccer pitch below my window, it being the usual Friday morning entertainment in a world where there is little else to do on the local Sabbath. They are playing, a word I am using loosely, their version of football, having just watched for a minute or two to see an unusual amount of kick and rush not normally associated with playing soccer, on a pitch that must have had grass on it at sometime in the deep distant past. What are really catching my eye, are the assorted depressions in various places, which appear to have been caused by small explosions.

The TV and shower saga

I have now been here for a number of days and been quite happy to have a TV, dating back to 1978 of Finnish design and manufacture in my room, which did not function. But square eye withdrawal has been beginning to bite and thus for last three days I have been at pains to persuade the management to get me a remote control, since the set does not offer a way to switch it on manually. Last night, at about 9 p.m. there was a knock at the door and the duty manager took me on a tour of unoccupied rooms to locate a remote control. after one or two false starts we located one and proceeded to test it. Sadly there were no batteries and so it was back to square one. By this time it was almost 10 p.m. and I called it quits, thanking the man for all his efforts.

Wonder of wonders, at lunchtime today I entered to prepare the laundry bag and there it was. a large black box with remote on top had taken the place of the off-white Finnish model anno 1978. This was must have been 1980 at least and the remote was not a matching model but it worked. Thus I had the dubious pleasure of listening to the British government's proposal regarding EU spending and its own rebate. It was so riveting I switched it off.

Sadly I have not been so fortunate with the repair of my shower, which still refuses to spit even the tiniest amount of liquid from it head. Baths are fine but . . .

I know this seems small beer to those of you contemplating the pre-Christmas sales and what to buy Granny this year, but these sorts of things grow in importance over time and can become an utter fixation which affects work, relationships and the overall quality of life. "Quality of life?" I hear you chortle, "You are in Baghdad, get used to it." You are quite right but there is only one way to address this issue and that is by going to have a large one, beer, that is.

The Kellog Brown & Root laundry experience

a number of the local services are provided courtesy of KBR. These include the DFaC or Dining Facility, which I have mentioned before, the laundry and assorted other capabilities without which life would be truly miserable. However there are occasions when one begins to doubt the sanity of the management in these outfits when it comes to the enforcement of local rules and restrictions.

I proffer but one example to give you, poor reader, just a taste of the daily insanity that goes with living here. The following is an abbreviated version of the rules regarding laundry:

1. Laundry can be handed in on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays between 1100hrs and 1500hrs. Laundry may be collected at the same time and is usually ready in two days. This is an excellent turn round time when one considers the conditions they have to work under.

2. Bundles must contain five to seven items, but a pair of socks is one item.

3. Shirts, if you want them ironed, must be handed in as a minimum of five items but not more than seven. If you have eight, they make two bundles of four and that is ok. This has proved to be my nemesis. I only own five shirts that require ironing, i.e. they have real collars and cuffs, and thus if I were to hand them all in at once, I would be left with only Polo shirts or some such to wear during the turn-around period.

4. Underwear is not ironed and cannot be used to make up the total of five shirts.

I have had to take drastic steps to circumvent the system. I have borrowed a couple of extra shirts from the UNOPS contractor for the duration of the contract to be able to make the requisite five shirts to be ironed. No doubt they will feature on the next invoice with a hire charge. So for the next month there will be a couple of shirts, doing the rounds of laundry to my room without ever touching a human body for the purpose for which it was designed, and shrinking progressively in the process. Having started with a couple of XXLs, I will probably hand back a couple of Smalls, but they will be clean and ironed.

The first couple of shirts have been returned and they have shrunk an inch at the cuffs, which used to reach the wrist. Shirt tails no longer are; they are shirt stumps. I had brought stuff that I would not be averse to dumping at the end of this outing, but I had rather hoped that my current effects would last at least a month.

Neuschwanstein in Baghdad–a Sugar Symphony in Blue and White

Kellogg, Brown & Root has decided that the season of good will to all men (and by extension, women) is upon us. I arrived immediately after Thanksgiving and the DFaC (Dining Facility for those of you who have not been paying attention) was still bedecked with the many artifices that give visual substance to this non-event in the European calendar. Thus the giant foam and fiberglass turkey, as well as the New England shack made from an assortment of organic and non-organic substances, still served as centre pieces in the various displays around the dining area.

Over the last seven days, things have been moved and re-manufactured. We now have Christmas trees, a plastic jaguar, some flamingos, a zebra, two angel fish, a bald eagle, a Chinese dragon, the good ship Mayflower and a particularly disconcerting rendition of Neuschwanstein Castle in blue and white icing sugar and cardboard, to gaze upon each and every mealtime. What exactly the zebra, jaguar, flamingos and fish have to do with this holiday season, I have yet to discover, but remain open to suggestions and in fact would welcome them. The dragon in particular, and it is a fine specimen, holds me in his or her spell as I queue for the various repastes on offer.

Happily, the Christmas CDs have not yet arrived and instead we are treated to the normal disco mix of hip-hop and garage each and every mealtime. While this may be totally normal and acceptable to the Georgian military who dine with us, the old and bold, such as I, find this a little bit disconcerting each and every mealtime. In fact it reminds me of the music that used to be, and may still be played in supermarkets I try not to visit too often these days. as a former management trainee with Sainsbury's, I know for a fact that the music in the mornings would be faster than that played in the afternoons, when the more relaxed shoppers appeared.

Peter W. Reynolds