Tuesday - July 19, 2005
The Chicken Ranch
"Those people are fools," the man told me through
the interpreter. "I have a business to run, and they have no idea what that
means." He had instant credibility
with me, and sympathy. There I was in the little town of Kubaysa, a small
industrial town to the east of Hit which we visited earlier this past spring.
Well, "visited" is a bit misleading.
It's more like we invaded it. A Marine battalion with attached tanks,
amphibious tractors, engineers, helicopters and jets, and even guys who drive
bobcats came to the town uninvited by the locals. Not completely uninvited, and
not even completely unwelcome. The Iraqi government asked us to go there, and
the local police were happy that we were there because they mistakenly believed
that we would be paying them.We came
in, and made it our business to visit as many homes and places of business as
possible, to find the muj and kill them. Or capture them. In that order.
Somehow I ended up being the senior
officer present at the combat operations center, so when the man came to our
gate asking questions, I was the one that dealt with him. I couldn't let on,
but I really enjoyed meeting
him.
As
part of our presence in the city, we had several checkpoints on the roads
leading into the town. Our orders from the Iraqi government were to not block
traffic, only to screen it. We only stop people, check them out and allow them
to pass. Unfortunately, the Iraqis don't always understand what the rules are.
They ignore clear warnings and written signs to stop. Somehow, stupidly, people
press on and drive at us at high speed even though Marines with very large
weapons are shooting at them and telling them to stop. Usually they only make
that mistake one time, I can only call them
stupid.
So it happened that a rather
stupid man was killed in the town, and now I had two groups soliciting my
attention outside my gate. One group was for people organizing the funeral for
the dead man. The other was the businessman. He owned a chicken
ranch.
The dead man was being buried
within hours of his death. I'm told this is normal among Iraqis. I wouldn't
know. It seemed curiously timed with a gathering of military aged males at the
mosque one block over, so maybe this guy died testing our reactions. Or maybe
he was just stupid and his family was being efficient. I didn't know, and
couldn't know. These are the Iraqis that are hard to trust. My cynicism
towards them was pretty high. I was polite and ensured that their funeral
arrangements were not impeded. While talking to this party of supplicants I
made sure the snipers above me were
alert.
Then came the chicken rancher.
We knew about his chicken ranch. We had been ready for his business and all
were briefed that anyone going to the chicken ranch was not to be stopped any
longer than necessary to verify their business. Chickens need water and food to
live, this was a big ranch.
The chicken
rancher, like many Iraqis, was impatient and self-important. But he seemed
different. His self-importance wasn't like the bullies I usually met, it was
from being responsible. It's rare to find Iraqis that actually understand the
concept of responsibility.
I didn't
understand his words, and for a while I had no translator. Finally the first
petitioner served as a translator. "I need to get to my ranch, I have a truck
with engineering equipment to repair the watering machine."
I
instructed him to go, no one would stop him, we knew about him already. He
wasn't so easily persuaded. He ended up coming back a second and third time.
Finally, I wrote a note for him. He couldn't read it, but I made it look as
formal as I could considering it was on a page torn out of my notebook. I wrote
the letter to the checkpoint telling them what was already their standing
orders, ensure this man was not carrying any bombs or weapons and then allow him
to pass unmolested. The man thanked me and I never saw him
again.
But he's one of the few in Iraq
that gave me hope for their country. He had a business to run, didn't trust
anyone to tend to his business interest for him, and especially distrusted the
local government's actions on his behalf, calling them fools who didn't
understand the needs of his business.
I don't know if he realized how much
he impressed me with his attitude. I would have loved to tour his business,
were I not there for a totally incompatible reason, but I suspect he was more
interested in running his business than in giving tours of it. Again, I
understand him.
I hope that soon Iraq
has more men like this chicken rancher. I hope that men like him outnumber the
thugs and murderers that try to dominate so much of this nation. An Iraq filled
with men like him will prosper.
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