CPT Iraq Fast/Vigil Journal

Thursday, April 1, 2004
Tahrir Square
By Sheila Provencher

Jane, Le Anne and I got stuck in traffic on the way to Tahrir Square, and so arrived about 20 minutes late. Imagine our surprise when we realized that there was no tent there! We have relied on the tent both as a “wall” on which to pin the banners, photos and fliers, and as an occasional refuge from the sun and the crowds. We thought we might be completely stranded, but Azhar and Sattar, our translators, quickly came across the street from the shop where they had been waiting. The men who have helped with the tent never arrived, so we made do by standing in front of a low wall next to some stairs.

Another person who had waited faithfully for us was Um Arras, the mother of Arras Turky Hadi Hussain, one of the young detainees who has been missing since last April. She broke into tears when she saw her son’s picture, which we had brought to hold throughout the vigil. Um Arras stayed for the entire vigil, saying “I want to do everything I can to work with youm to help you!” She hopes to attend the vigil at Abu Ghraib prison on April 7th. With great strength, she spoke to all the passersby about her son and about the plight of so many others like him. Arras is a high school student who aspired to be a professional soccer player, who seems to have been swept up in the first days of the invasion of Baghdad. His mother has not seen him for nearly a year.

As usual, the two hours were full of conversations, offers of help, and memorable encounters. A reporter from the Iraqi newspaper Al Mazan interviewed Le Anne about the detainee issue and CPT’s role in both Iraq and other countries. While they were speaking, a man came up to me and waved a piece of paper. He pointed at the large photo I was holding (of Ahmad Fakhaldeen Zeni, from Kerbala) and said, “You want to save him? Save yourself!” He pushed the paper at me, and tried also to get Le Anne’s attention. The paper described a cataclysmic future for the earth and the entire solar system, based on a complex theory about dual atoms and other unintelligible stuff. We thanked him and he went on his way!

A university student stopped and spoke with us about a newly-formed Iraqi Students’ Association for Human Rights, which focuses on student detainees. He wants to work with CPT on this issue in whatever way possible. Among other projects, they are putting together a photo exhibit about student detainees. Le Anne gave him the link to the photos on CPT’s website. It is exciting to meet such youthful energy and passion for justice.

A thoughtful, bearded man with excellent English struck up a conversation by saying, “You know, I work for the CPA. I am a translator. There are terrorists out there, I know – and I am a target for them. My friend, who worked for the CPA, was killed by a terrorist last week.” But he acknowledged that we were standing there to publicize the mistreatment of Iraqi detainees by the Coalition, and he admitted – “Yes, I see that the soldiers, they detain too many people. There are terrorists out there. But I have been at house raids, and I see that sometimes they take too many people.”

Azhar reflected on his second vigil as an “official” CPT translator. “I like it here, more than at the university. Yesterday at the university, people were not as interested. I was surprised at the apathy, but maybe the students were just preoccupied with what they had to do. Here, (in Tahrir Square), the people are not as educated, not as sophisticated, but they FEEL it. They feel what is happening, and they express the feeling.”

Wednesday, March 31
BAGHDAD UNIVERSITY
By Le Anne Clausen

Clausen, Chandler, and Vreisinga went with translators to Baghdad University for the team’s detainee vigil. While there, they spoke with two female staff who asked the team to follow up on several cases of Iraqis sexually assaulted by U.S. soldiers. They told of a woman who had been raped and impregnated while in U.S. custody, as well as a teenage boy who had been gang-raped. One of the women present also spoke of her experience being stopped at a checkpoint by a U.S. soldier who exposed himself to her and threatened to rape her if she did not comply fully with the search of her vehicle. Her hands shook and her voice broke as she told team members about the incident. The team members promised to investigate the cases further.

Later at the vigil, several female students and professors joined team members to hold signs and pictures of the detainees. Two female students who were passing by told Vreisinga, “We will make the Americans pay for what they did to us. We have no tanks or guns, but we will make them pay.”

Clausen and Chandler made friends with three female students at the vigil. They spoke about not being able to go out and have fun in the city like they used to before the war, and how they liked having foreigners visit the campus. They were also enthusiastic about North American music. Two of the women who were close friends are Muslim, although one wears hijab and the other wore short sleeves and no veil. They said in both cases this was their personal preference and expression of faith. They both felt North American women expose too much skin, which conveys a lack of self-respect.

Saturday, March 27th
Le Anne Clausen

It was an almost overwhelming day today.  I was continually surrounded by angry men.   However, they were not angry at us or what we were doing.  As our team has been written before, Tahrir Square is a crossroads of life in Iraq, and many people who have suffered cross our path.

Many people just needed to vent.  People were spilling out their stories, one on top of the other, and our translator was trying hard to keep up and have each one take his turn.  Some didn't really want things translated, they just needed to yell.

A journalist who worked in Kuwait was recalled home during the 1990 invasion: "Saddam paid compensation to the Kuwaitis and everyone else who suffered
during this time except those of us who lost our jobs.  Who can help me?"

There was a man from an Iraqi political prisoners' association, who was angry at the old regime, the Coalition, and Americans in general, and did not initially believe that I might agree with him.  He screamed, "We need our human rights!  We need the Coalition to pay attention!"  Several people murmured in greement with him.  When our translator conveyed that this was the very reason we were holding the vigil, he was stunned.

One man came up from Babylon to apply for a position and the Ministry office here told him they closed at 11.  However, he saw that Baghdad residents were allowed to apply later.  "I have been here now two days waiting.  This is evidence that the Ba'athists are still at work."

A man who had been imprisoned under the old regime expressed his frustration with U.S, forces enforcing yet another oppressive regime who cared little for human rights.   He asked if we could bring him to Coalition headquarters to tell his story and find compensation for his suffering.  I replied that we have found it impossible to get anyone from the Coalition to listen to cases and follow through to a satisfactory result, but we could at least write about and publicize his story if he wanted.  "But what will be the result?" he asked.  "Will it change their policies?"

I replied that I honestly did not know.  At that point, the man pulled open his shirt and showed me the old scars of torture he had suffered in prison.  "Do you
know what will be the result?  The result will be that I will explode myself here in this street."

A tribal sheik, who is the father of a young man in our detainee campaign, wanted desperately to appeal to Coalition officials to free his son. The sheik said that he is responsible for the well-being of 2 ½ million people, and is accustomed to serving as a judge for disputes among his people.  "And my son sits for one year in prison without a judge or trial."  Meanwhile, we gave him the poster we had of his son's photograph to hold with us during the vigil.  "Will the Coalition see me if I hold this sign up here?"  "Maybe," I said. "Then I will hold up my son's picture and you will take a picture of me doing it."  He held the picture and we took the photograph.

Another man had been a POW for thirteen years as a result of the Iran/Iraq war.  He stated it simply like that and didn't say anything more.  He just wanted
me to know.

There is so much pain and suffering here, so much anger.  Do we grasp here how much listening is a part of our work?  Often, I think our team gets too rapped
up in trying to 'do' to relieve the suffering here.  Although many of us are U.S. citizens, we have little power here.  Yet we can simply 'be'-be a comforting presence, a willing ear, a reminder that someone cares about the suffering.

Most of the men thanked us for hearing them.  There was little we could do in any of their cases except listen.

Friday, March 26
If there is such a thing as a “typical vigil day,” I guess that would describe today. Matthew, Stewart, Jane, Kathy, and myself were there, and Anna Bachman (a friend of CPT who was here last year as part of Iraq Peace Team) also joined us. Haider sported a new T-shirt with “Texans for Peace” emblazoned on it - a gift from the team. Azhar also came again and helped translate, getting into long philosophical discussions with Stewart as he held one end of the “Human Rights for Iraqi Detainees” banner. It was HOT, and the sun beating down on us was actually the most challenging part of the day.

Jane spoke to the usual crowds of young men who stop by on Fridays. We do not encounter as many professional workers on Friday, as it is a day off). A few families with children stopped to read the banner and photos. The children smiled shyly at us strange foreigners.

People are particularly interested in the photographs. They often ask, “Who is he? Why are you wanting him released? What did he do? Where is he?” They are captivated by the particulars. Sattar became weary of answering the same question over and over and so he took a magic marker and wrote (in Arabic) something like “this man symbolizes many detainees” across the front of every large photograph. Now, the particulars of each person’s case serve as a window into the entire problem of injustice toward ALL detainees. Wisam from Baghdad, Ahmed from Kerbala, Ayoud from Abu Sifa - their stories connect people to the wider story.

Thursday, March 25
We returned to Tahrir Square for the regular vigil - myself, Le Anne, and Stewart. It feels like home base now! Young Haider and a few of his friends turned up as usual, helped us set up the banners, and handed out leaflets while enthusiastically asking people to read them and return them (we don’t have enough for everyone!) Although the crowds were smaller today (I suspect that the regular neighborhood people are used to the spectacle by now), many people stopped to ask questions and share personal stories of detention. Some former detainees and families of detainees told of their time and their loved ones’ time in Abu Ghraib. More and more, it seems that numbers of people have personal connections with detention -Sunni, Shi’a, Kurdish, everyone. A Kurdish man stopped to talk and shared that his human rights organization was working collaboratively with a Sunni mosque, advocating for detainee justice. “We work to show them that we care about this issue too, even though we are not from the same tribe,” he said.

Two Iraqi newspapers interviewed me, both very interested in keeping up-to-date on
future CPT activities. They were each very patient with the many interruptions, as passers-by kept stopping to talk while Sattar heroically translated three conversations as once!

Le Anne had a somewhat bizarre encounter today - she listened at length to a man who told her that he had killed his wife, lost his refugee status and was deported from Austria, and now was feeling sorry for himself and wanted compensation. Many people who are generally struggling with life pass through this square - people under the influence of drugs or alcohol, people jobless or homeless, people here because of houses of prostitution nearby. All the more reason for this vigil, this listening-place, to be here.


Monday, March 22
BALAD MILITARY BASE
When we planned the vigil calendar, we had initially scheduled a vigil for today at the Balad Military Base, where Col. Sasseman was the commander. We had been in dialogue with Col. Sasseman for more than two months, and felt that a vigil would be appropriate given that we had seen no significant change in military policies since the beginning of the dialogue. However, a new commander has taken over, and the team decided that a vigil was premature. It would be better to open a dialogue with the new leadership in the hopes that we could establish a relationship and better effect change.

Therefore, it was only Stewart, Matthew, and myself who traveled to Balad, sans banners and photos, but equipped with a desire to listen and also to share our experiences and the perspectives that many Iraqi friends and colleagues have shared with us. We hoped that such sharing would bolster the shaky bridge of communication between the Balad human rights lawyers group and the military command.

Before going to the base, however, we stopped in at the village of Abu Sifa, both to greet the people there and also to introduce some German media friends to the plight of the villagers. More than 95% of the men of the village are detained. As usual, Hania and the other women and the few men of the village greeted us warmly. This time, after photos and discussion, they invited us to lunch in a house that had been nearly destroyed by the US military. We sat on cushions in a bare room, next to walls pockmarked by bullets. A framed inscription from the Q’uran still hung on the wall, but its protective glass was shattered. More than 15 children giggled at one end of the room, and an elderly woman (100 years old!) called down blessings from God upon us and insisted that we spend the night!

Such hospitality meant that we were late getting to the base. Lieutenant Colonel Hubner, the new commander, was unavailable, but Major Hert met with us for more than an hour. We sat on a bench outside the front door to the base, and he listened with genuine openness to what we shared. Major Hert is a reservist, who in civilian life is a pastoral counselor at his Methodist church, counseling people with addictions, marital problems, and other struggles.

We had a very good conversation, each sharing a number of concerns and perspectives.
We expressed specific concern for the villagers of Abu Sifa and Abu Hishma. Also
central to our sharing was the general perspective of many Iraqi people who experience the Coalition not as a liberating army but as an occupying force. We also discussed issues of power imbalance. Balad is full of professional lawyers frustrated by injustices and eager to work for human rights. But when military power walks into the meeting room, the lawyers sometimes hide their complaints. We speculated that 35 years of dictatorship make people wary of speaking truth to power. We encouraged Major Hert and other Coalition military officers to share more power and responsibility, rather than taking a top-down approach.

Major Hert listened, agreeing with many of the problems, but unsure of what his sphere of influence and responsibility will be. We left hoping that the dialogue would continue, not so much between CPT and the base, but between the base and the Iraqi human rights lawyers groups in Balad.

Saturday, March 20
The anniversary of the war’s beginning. Again we were a small group of vigilers – Peggy, Jane, Matthew, and myself. But the energy of the crowd was palpable, and both Faris and Sattar were busy translating. Many friends returned – little Haider bounded across the street to greet us, and held a banner for half the vigil. Azmar, the electric guitarist and philospher, held the other end of the banner and helped translate.

I had several very memorable experiences. First, a man from Fallujah (primarily a Sunni area) who has family in Sadr City (a Shi’a neighborhood in Baghdad’s poorest area) began talking about a new effort from various Muslim clerics to publicize the plight of women detainees. “This is the first time they have spoken publicly about it,” he said. “We are helping, to show that Sunni and Shi’a support each other.” He encouraged us to attend a demonstration next Friday about women detainees. Second, a young graduate of the psychology department from Mustansiriya University stopped to talk very seriously. He read the flyer carefully, and then wanted to dictate a letter to me, from the Iraqi people to the American people. The essence of the letter was this:

“We do not stand against the American people. I want you to know this especially for the Christian people. This is a declaration of our Muslim clerics – both Sunni and Shi’a, they teach us not to stand against the people, but to speak against the American government. All Americans are our brothers in humanity. And we wish for all our brothers, people in the USA, regardless of their religion or gender, to please report our Iraqi voices to the people in charge of your administration. Your government’s actions right now are working to make the reputation of the US people bad all over the world. And I wish that you not neglect the voices of the Iraqi people. Please, people in the US, push your administration to change its policies in the Arab and Islamic world, so that peace prevails, for all people, Christians and Muslims.”

Finally, here are some reflections from Peggy, who shared in the vigil for the last time before going back to the US.

“On the last vigil I took part in, two days before I left, it was another intense time of sharing with the people that came by. I realized that I was getting real stressed, caught myself and prayed for love for the people here. For the rest of the time, I was more relaxed, but felt a heavy weight inside. There is so much pain here!

Next to me, Sheila was talking to a man who had brought a detained list of eight things, written in Arabic, that he wanted us to deal with. He said to her sternly, ‘You must listen to me too!” He read a list of tragedies that had happened to him and his family during the Iran-Iraq war, the dictatorial regime, the first Gulf War, and since. One concerned a village where he lived that was destroyed, another concerned his parents and brother killed by the regime. He told her that CPT should not just stay in Baghdad, but must go to all of these other places and do something about them.

‘I started to feel defensive, since we ARE going to many other places, but suddenly I knew that I had to listen,’ Sheila shared afterward. “I said a quick prayer for help. I tried to answer him, saying that all of these things are important, that terrible things had happened to Iraqis, that I wished God could give me the power to fix it all. At that point I surprised myself and everyone by starting to cry. And he started crying too. Everything became still, everyone was listening. We both had started out wanting to run form the pain, and ended up listening to each other, he stayed there with me. He kept nodding as I said that I am just one person, we are a small group, but I will do what I can, and I knew we would be working together.

It was a moment of communion. We both knew that we would pray for each other and for peace and healing in Iraq.’”

Friday, March 19
A strange feeling was in the air today. The sky was overcast, and a dust-and-rain-storm threatened right at 12:00, the beginning of the vigil time. Le Anne, Jane and I came to Tahrir Square directly from the press conference that was the culmination of Solidarity Week. Right away, we wondered how long we would stay – the weather was strange, we were three women with only one translator, and our usual friends who have come to be informal helpers and translators were not there today (probably because it is Friday, a holiday). Sattar affirmed this feeling by suggesting that we leave after one hour rather than two.

Still, the day held its gifts. Jane commented on the dynamic she experienced with a group of young men who stopped to ask her questions. As a former teacher, she recognized that they move from curiosity and even ridicule to serious questioning. “I had a great time, these young people are fantastic. They start out thinking it’s ridiculous, that it’s funny. Then someone asks a smart-aleck question. But then someone who has a bit of English asks a question that I can answer. And he translates it to his friends. And then they calm down a bit, and start asking more serious questions. Some persist in thinking it’s funny to see people like us standing with a banner in Tahrir Square. But others start to think seriously, and I can see them questioning. That’s all I ever hoped for with my students – that I could challenge them with new ideas to consider, and that they would start thinking and questioning.”

In the crowds of young men, there are always some who are there just to stare at the young foreign women. It is frustrating. But many times, young men come forward to ask us questions, offer their own views, and encourage us to continue. Best of all are the times they ask how they can participate, and we can offer them several human rights organizations to choose from. We now have a running list of “vigil volunteers” – people who want to get involved in human rights and who volunteer to help in any way. Countless invitations to villages, mosques, churches, and places in Baghdad where people want to share their stories. Every day, there are new “threads” to follow, as Jim used to say. Of course we cannot follow them all. But it is a gift for us simply to be in this space and to experience the energy, participation, and questioning.

Thursday, March 18
SOLIDARITY WEEK
After last night’s terrible bombing, the day dawned sunny and warm, with a cool breeze. The bombing killed possibly 8 people, so we were more aware than usual of the risks of doing public witness. But today was a special day – the day that many people from various human rights groups joined the Tahrir Square demonstration, and at the end, marched across Jumhuriyah Bridge to the Coalition Provisional Authority (CPA). Perhaps the most beautiful aspect of the day was the simple fact that our Iraqi colleagues did attend in full force, despite the vulnerability, and expressed with great strength and determination their hopes for a more just Iraq. Their energy carried the day – we were grateful to be along for the ride.

(Solidarity Week is a series of events coordinated by a number of human rights groups, including the Organization for Human Rights in Iraq, the Iraqi National Society for Human Rights, the National Association for the Defense of Human Rights, International Occupation Watch, Peace Volunteers, and CPT. The detainee issue was the focus for today.

So, the usual small group of demonstrators at Tahrir Square swelled to more than 150 people, many of whom held banners, signs, and photos of detainees. Several Arab newspapers and television stations covered the event, as well as Japanese and Spanish press and the BBC.

It was an energetic and energizing experience. We realized later that people from more than twelve nations were there. Families of people imprisoned by US forces came from as far as Fallujah, Abu Ghraib, and Kerbala. Sunni, Shi'a, and Christian; young and old; people uniting, coming together. Lawyers, teachers, conscientious objectors tortured under Saddam, families, internationals -- all asking for human rights for Iraqi detainees, asking for real democracy and freedom rather than increased mistrust, fear, and human rights abuses.

As we walked over the bridge, banners and photos held high, Husain led some of the chants, such as “No more violence! Respect Human Rights!” in Arabic and English. And several others just in Arabic. Hameed and Teresa, Sa’ad who suffered under the previous regime, and so many other friends met each other and walked together. Many cars honked and people gave “thumbs up” signs to the marchers. Construction workers several stories high in the bombed-out Iraqi Communications building waved encouragement. One man commented, “the workers, they always support the demonstrations!”

When we reached the barricades of the CPA checkpoint at the other side of the bridge, we stood across the street for some time, while various people led chants and spoke to press. At one point, because one international human rights worker began filming the checkpoint, soldiers from the base came across the street to find out what we were doing. Stewart, Le Anne, and a few other internationals spoke with them. After they returned to their post, we noticed that one soldier began filming the demonstration, especially the large banner that listed the names of all the organizations. Some of us waved to him in a friendly way.

After another brief march to accommodate the BBC (who had missed the first march), the group dispersed. As we were milling about at the end, I spoke to a couple of police officers who were watching. I wanted them to see the large photo of an Iraqi police officer who was detained with 83 other men from Abu Sifa. They actually knew him, and affirmed that he was a very good man. They seemed very concerned, accepted the flyers, and wished us well.

After a night of bombs and darkness, a day of new life and hope. Sattar, our translator, keeps saying that this work for justice is like walking a thousand-mile journey or climbing a high mountain. But together, as he says, we are taking the first steps.

Tuesday, March 16:
KERBALA
Kerbala, one of the great holy cities of Iraq. Home to a Shi’a majority. And also the site of the recent devastating suicide bombings.

Kerbala reveals the truth to those who claim that the detainee problem is just a Sunni problem, that the people in the prisons are the “bad guys” from Tikrit, Ramadi, and Fallujah. On the first day of the invasion of Kerbala (April 5), a secondary school teacher named Mr. Hasain Al-Ibrihimi gathered with some friends and colleagues to form the Iraqi Human Rights Watch. They have been documenting and responding to human rights abuses under the occupation ever since. Especially troubling are the reports of young men being taken from their homes and detained for months with no clear charges. Confiscated property, ruined houses, and mourning wives and children are left in the wake of these arrests.

CPT brought the Fast for Justice and Healing to Kerbala today - not knowing what to expect. Imagine our joy when we saw Mr. Hasain and dozens of people from Iraqi Human Rights Watch, prepared with podium, banners, speeches, carpets on the pavement, and boundless energy. Ahmed Fakhr al-Dein Zeni’s four small children were there, holding posters asking for the return of their father. Genia Muhammad Ali, a
65-year-old widow whose two sons and nephew were detained last summer, sat in a wheelchair and wept as she told her story. She still does not know the charges against her sons.

We all stood on a plaza between the two holy shrines that commemorate the deaths of
early Shi’a martyrs Hussein and Abbas. Scores of people stopped and listened to readings from the Qu’ran (deliberately chosen to emphasize the brotherhood of Christians and Muslims), and speeches about the necessity for human rights for detainees. One person also read a speech criticizing elements from the new constitution - namely, the forced inclusion of women in government, and the veto power of the minority. Others joined the demonstration, holding signs and pictures. At the end of the time, as the crowd was breaking up, the four children of Ahmed Fakr al-Dein Zeni suddenly burst into tears. I could not help but wonder - did they somehow feel that if they took this stand, their father would come back? It is painful to imagine how they might feel.

Later, Husain shared his thoughts with us about the day, democracy in Iraq, and his hopes for the future. “Iraqis need more education for democracy,” he said. “The people there, they found it hard to believe that you as Americans could speak against the American government policies. For 35 years of dictatorship - if you saw a demonstration like this against Saddam, everyone would be killed, immediately. So it will take a long time for the people to overcome that fear.” But he is so positive, and excited for the challenge ahead. Some of his students saw him at the demonstration, and asked why he did not tell them about it, they want to join! He also shared many stories of young people who responded to last spring’s crisis, especially concerning the thousands of articles of unexploded ordnance littering Kerbala. The military authorities did not respond to their repeated requests for help to clear the bombs, so they started doing it themselves. Over time, one young man removed hundreds of bombs. Finally one evening, he responded to a primary school headmaster’s request to take care of a cluster bomb - school was supposed to start the next day and the children would be in danger. The bomb exploded, killing him instantly. Such are the present martyrs of Kerbala.

Remembering Hasain’s energetic words to the crowd earlier - “These people (CPT) come
from very far away to help us, so we must help ourselves!” - I trust that he and the people in Kerbala will continue to work, teach, and plant seeds of hope for years to come.

Saturday, March 13, 2004
Matthew, Cliff, Jane, and Peggy stood in vigil today. Hatham from the district of Abu Ghraib, who comes often, attended again today and helped with the pictures and banner. Three young boys also joined in, holding up the large laminated photos of detainees. A young man from Germany and his friend from Jordan also joined us for the entire vigil.

As we have come to expect, a number of interested and interesting people stopped to talk. One man from Basrah spoke with Cliff about his experience working with Northrup Grumman, a large U.S. military contractor. This man had trained in San Antonio and Long Beach. He asked a number of questions, trying to understand what we were doing. During the conversation, another man approached and shared the stories of his father and brother - Saddam Hussein killed his brother and imprisoned his father for 20 years. Cliff acknowledged the oppression of Saddam’s regime, and expressed that CPT holds all families in our concern - those who suffered under Saddam and those who suffer under occupation. We want to work so that such injustice does not happen again. In the end, the young man from Northrup Grumman said more than once to Cliff, “What you are doing is VERY important!”

Jane observed that there is a whole generation here (in this neighborhood at least)who does not know how to read. Although the older adults can read, many of the children and young men display great difficulty sounding out the words on the signs.

Several simply decline the flyer with a hand wave and a smile to indicate that they cannot read. Ironically, on this very day Jane and Matthew also spoke with a man who has ideas about educational reform, and wanted to know how he could contact Paul Bremer or George Bush about his concerns.

Matthew and Peggy had quieter (or at least less intense!) days that they have experienced in the past. One man did ask the “where were you when Saddam . . . .” question, but he genuinely wanted to know. He continued his thoughts saying, “We had abuses under Saddam, now we have abuses under the Americans.” Peggy also talked to a number of Iraqi newspaper reporters.

It is troubling how many expressions of hopelessness we hear. Jane spoke to a man who seemed to have great heaviness in his heart as he asked, “Can you help me get my son out of prison? He is in Kirkuk.” Another asked, “Do you think this demonstration is going to do any good,” before answering himself by saying, “It’s a mess. No hope.” But in the end, an elderly man expressed a more universal vision, not only concerning this one action, but ALL actions: “You have to have God in your heart to do any good. You need prayer, and careful discernment.” May this be so for all of us, for all people. This is our prayer today.

Tuesday, March 9:
ABU SIFA
The village of Abu Sifa is home to about 80 families, and nearly that many men were detained from the village at one time. It is peopled now by women and children and the fwe men who were either not taken or who have been released. The villagers were not clear that we were coming, so again this vigil was quite different from the busy hours in Tahrir Square, Baghdad. As usual, the people welcomed us with great warmth. Hania and her neices met the van and walked us down the dirt road to a destroyed house, where they and other women and children joined us, holding signs and pictures of their loved ones. The walls were pockmarker with bullet holes and the entire second floor was collapsed and exposed to the elements.

A 15-year-old boy named Muhammad approached. He had been released 10 days ago, after spending time in Abu Ghraib and in the youth detention facility in Baghdad. He told his story in detail to Matthew, Cliff, Peggy, and Jane, while I (Sheila) played with the children nearby. Almost all of the little ones had fathers in Abu Ghraib. Those few who were lucky enough to have a father in the village nonetheless missed uncles, cousins and brothers who were imprisoned. They looked close to tears as the adult women told me these stories, but they still managed to laugh with delight at simple games and "Itsy-Bitsy Spider."

Monday, March 8:
ABU HISHMA
The first "vigil on the road." While Sheila and Stewart attended a meeting between local lawyers and military officials in nearby Balad, Peggy, Cliff, Le Anne, and Matthew went to the village of Abu Hishma, a razor-wire-surrounded village where some of the campaign's detainees and families are from. It is a small village, and the team had no translator, so they went on somewhat of a wild goose chase at first, trying to get to the vigil site, a bomb crater in a farmer's field. It was not to be! They did go to Fayel's house -- Fayel is the father of Qusay, who has been in prison for more than 4 months. Fayel welcomed everyone, gave them tea, and was delighted to receive the poster-sized picture of his son, which the team has held for days in Tahrir Square. He also indicated that he had seen Qusay's picture (as part of the vigil) on Iranian TV -- perhaps from the media coverage the vigil received on Feb. 26. This gave him great encouragement, as did the stories of people in North America and other countries who are fasting, praying, and letter-writing on Qusay's behalf.

The team ended up traveling to the center of town, where they were joined by crowds of children and adults, chanting "La ilaha illa'Allah" (there is no God but God). Thus the vigil became an impromptu march toward the checkpoint entrance of the town. Towards the end, ICDC (Iraq Civil Defense Corps) officers stopped the march, but posed for pictures and pretty much joined the revelry in the ways they could!


Sunday, March 7:
The team decided, after the first week of vigiling, to maintain a sabbath time on Sunday, so we were not in Tahrir Square.


Saturday, March 6:
Midway through the time at Tahrir Square, Jane noticed a car that was awkwardly parked on the street right in front of the vigil site. People began to wonder if it might be a bomb, so the vigil moved to stand underneath the Freedom statue, while police finally towed away the car.

Hatham, a friend from the community of Abu Graib, came to the vigil for an hour and provided impromptu translation. Many young boys have been helping, holding signs and banners, laughing with us and encouraging our flagging Arabic. Today, Jim noticed one boy, Haider, exhibit a beautiful generosity on this day. A man named Ahmed who has helped with translation showed up with a huge platter of food towards the end of the vigil time. As he and Jim and Haider and some others went to enjoy it as a picnic lunch, Haider noticed three other teenage boys standing off to the side, and, rather than hoarding the available food, he beckoned them to the feast.

Friday, March 5:
People continue to emphasize that the terrible events of this week will not divide them. "Saddam Hussein could not divide Sunni and Shi'a, and neither will this, and neither will the occupation!" A minority, however, express a deepening of division. "Once this period of mourning is over, there will be revenge," said an older man. Someone tried to tell the story of Sheik Moyad (a Sunni leader) who urged his people to give blood to help the victims, but the man did not want to listen. Nonetheless - even when people express anger, it seems that once they have vented their pain, they depart on good terms, with a handshake or even a smile.

Thursday, March 4:
This was the first day that we held the vigil after the bombings in Kerbala and Kadhimiyah. In addition to the pictures of detainees, we held a large photo of Kadhimiyah (taken by Jane, just after the bombing), and a large black banner that read in Arabic, "We mourn the loss of life in the terrorist actions at Kadhimiya and Kerbala, and we mourn for all the victims of violence in Iraq. NO MORE VIOLENCE." In previous days, so many people had expressed anger that we were protesting only now, for detainees who were mostly Sunni. ("Where were you when Saddam was murdering the Shi'a? What were you doing for justice then?") These comments, as well as the pain of the bombing, really made it clear to us that we need to acknowledge the pain of ALL segments of the population. Suffering can ultimately unite us, but only if we acknowledge all of the pain that the other has suffered. So . . . today was a day to mourn the pain of all Iraqis - the Shi'a who lost their loved ones in the bombing, and the Sunni, Shi'a, Kurds, Christians, etc. who have lost their loved ones to unjust imprisonment.

The overwhelming response to this week's pain was a beautiful coming-together of the people. So many people said things like, "Sunni and Shi'a and Christians are all brothers." A young, serious, bearded man seemed stunned that we were mourning too, and over and over again people said "thank you for your feelings." A man came up to Cliff and pointed to the spot on the picture where he was standing when the bombs went off.
Another wept as he told the story of his friend who died that day.

It was another very hot day, the sun beating down on groups of people who gathered to share mourning, ask questions, argue, express hopes and feelings. Jane held the black banner as well as a photo of an imprisoned individual. Two women from the village of Abu Ghraib attended, bringing with them the picture of their husband and brother, who was taken by US forces in a raid. They wept often, and also talked with the many people who stopped to ask them about the picture they held.

Towards the end of the time, a man came up to Cliff and reached out his hand, which was bleeding. He wanted to share the blood, and smeared some on Cliff's hand. We do not know what the gesture means, but now the picture of Kadhimiyah that Cliff was holding is, literally, marked with the blood of the Iraqi people.

Sunday, Feb 29:
These vigil days are a blur -- so many people -- more than 1000 each day pass through, easily. Friends are appearing around us. Ahmed comes regluarly, eager to translate if our translators are unavailable. Haider and his friends help set up signs and banners. A young deaf-mute man protectively trieds to keep the crowd at a distance if they start to press in too close (usually we are nose-to-nose, nonetheless!). People read the fliers and remind each other to return them. Every day, there are lively arguments, agreements, gratitude and anger and questions and frustration and hopes expressed. A whole tapestry. Exhausting, but often exhilarating.

Saturday, Feb. 28:
Today many people asked, "Why aren't you doing this in the US? They are the ones who need to hear it." We try to share the wealth of action going on because of communities in the States, Canada, and elsewhere -- the letter-writing, prayer, and fasting. Tahrir Square is a tiny manifestation of the effort going on in communities and in hearts all over the world.

Friday, Feb. 27:
So many people offer to help. While some may walk by and gaze at the spectacle with apathy or with suspicion, countless more stop to talk, help set up or translate, or, most beautiful of all, say "what can I do to help this cause?" A Mr. Bassim from Mustansiria University comes almost every day, talking excitedly about his hopes for the future, the importance of work for justice, and his desire for us to come to the university to talk to the students. Gulshan, whose husband (a science professor at Baghdad University) was disappeared weeks ago, attends and stands with great strength even in her grief. She talks to the questioning men with certitude and patience.

Thursday, Feb. 26:
The first media day at the vigil drew reporters from CNN, the Associated Press, Iraq Today, two Arab newspapers, and several television and radio stations - at one point Cliff had nine microphones in front of him! Many people told stories of families and friends who have been imprisoned by US forces. One man shared that he himself had been in Abu Ghraib prison. His food was rice and stew - he said it was not bad, just not enough - and his bed was made up on two blankets on the dirt floor. Especially distressing was his account of the conditions for women in Abu Ghraib prison. It is impossible to confirm the details of the stories, but we have heard many stories of sexual abuse of women in Abu Ghraib, to the point that some women prisoners allegedly smuggled out a letter asking for Iraqis to bomb the prison. They wanted it bombed even with themselves inside, as they would rather die than live with the shame. Again,it is difficult to know if this is fact or rumor, but even if the details are incorrect, the sense of suffering and outrage among the people is quite real.

Feb 25 -- Ash Wednesday:
Today from 12:00pm to 2:00pm we stood in Tahrir Square, sun beating down, Muhammad fixing the tent and repeatedly beating the dust out of it, police helping us out (even holding signs!) and men crowding around, wondering what was going on. We passed out all of the flyers in only five minutes, and so quickly learned to ask people to read it and then return it. Very mixed reactions -- many men expressing appreciation and gratitude, some angry at the US and venting their frustration, some angry that we are protesting injustice now, and were not here protesting when Saddam was murdering the Shi'a. But many, many thoughtful conversations. This square, this vigil, may be like a "roundtable discussion" (like in the Catholic Worker tradition) -- a place to talk, share, think, change.