A few unexpected minutes of internet time. So, I can elaborate a bit…
The Gala is finished, and I think that it is fair to say that American Voices pulled off another unlikely success. As mentioned in my last entry, the finale concert was performed for a packed house, and the concert hall was full of local politicians and VIP’s.
The audience gathers for the Gala night performance at Peshawa Hall
John enjoys the concert with the Minister of Culture.
If I learned anything these last two weeks, it was that Iraq is an emotional place, full of a passionate people. Hi highs, and low lows came daily. Perhaps my most unexpected high came the night before last, when I discovered the”Speedway Bar and Grill”… a state- of-the-art, formula 1 style, racetrack complete with go carts capable of “80 miles per hour”.
At the “Speedway” in Erbil.
Another view of the Speedway.
The manager of “Speedway” happens to be the father of one of our Amercian Voices students. The student works at the Bar and Grill, and after dinner he asked the three of us, Michael, Niaz, and myself, whether we would like to take a spin. Mike and Niaz weren’t so sure, but I jumped at the chance. (I grew up like many boys, wishing to be an Indy 500 driver someday). So, Mike and Niaz watched from the balcony while I sought to teach Mario Andretti a lesson on how to hit each curve’s apex perfectly. I have no idea how fast I was going, but with one’s posterior only an inch from the ground, I felt like a human bullet. The course was “designed by and American racer”, though I was never sure to which racer they were referring. I was mostly fascinated by the fact that such a place could never exist in the States. Besides the liablity that would be involved in such a business, the juxtaposition of the bar and the racetrack brought surreal conversations to mind. “Here are your drinks, Sir. And here are the keys to your racecar.”
Only in Iraq.
Inside the “Speedway Bar and Grill”
Michael and Niaz get a “lesson” in racing from the balcone.
Just call me “The Streak”.
Then there were the lows. The city is littered with hundreds, if not thousands, of stalled and unfinished construction projects. The veterans tell me that most were in the same state last year…large cement skeletons of what should have been. The marketplace would never invent such a scene. The only explanation I can come up with is the lack of accountablity and the corruption that thrives here. My guess is that the scenario goes something like this: Reconstruction, or oil money, comes to Erbil via Baghdad. Politicians in Baghdad take their “cut”, then the local politicians here do the same. Each building is under contract, and the construction managers skim off the top of that. Each supplier does the same, even while managers deliberately overestimate costs. Before you know it, the project is broke and abandoned. And though all I have is conjecture, the locals tell me that I am right on, yet there is nothing they can do about it. Of course, a few projects get restarted when the next budget is arranged, but most are left exposed and deteriorating.
The Erbil landscape is littered with unfinished building projects.
One of the toughest of scenes was the two dogs that wondered the median in front of the “Modern City Hotel” for most of the week. The two whitish, Lab-like, dogs were clearly in distress, but stayed patiently with the 5 meter wide grassy median. Perhaps they stayed because the cement roads around the grassy area would be too hot to walk on, or because the traffic was too dense to cross. Or, maybe they did recieve handouts from passers by that I never saw. But when I expressed concern to a number of locals, they were ambivalent. Apparently, our neighborhood was primarily islamic, and I was told that the religion does not allow dogs as pets. From what I understood, dogs are not looked upon favorably in this culture. Regardless of the rational, I was held back from assisting them only by the fact that I would be helpless to take them with me, and that I would only prolong their suffering. Both died the day before yesterday when the temperature here hit 129.5 degrees. I suppose that, with most people here having lost family or friends over the last few years, one can understand that in the vast scheme of things two dogs aren’t a priority. For me, it was a struggle.
Thankfully, this morning brought another unexpected high, when I was invited for a meeting with both the chairman of music and the dean of the College of Fine Arts here in Erbil. The chairman (Mr. Zaza, who also happens to be Boran’s father) gave me a tour of the school (which he founded), and he even sat down to play me some of his original compositions based on Kurish folk tunes on his guitar. Simply delightful. We all spoke of future collaborations and a mutual interest in having he most talented students receive degrees in the States in order that they may return here to help establish the arts community. The school is new, having only begun once they were out of the suppression of the Saddam regime, and the cost of the “Brain Drain” has been tremendous. As of now, creditialed faculty are extremely rare.
So, as I sit here waiting for my departure this evening, I have much to think about. My new friends, the rich and unexpected culture here, the complexity of Iraqi politics, and the fact that I feel that I made a difference in a way that would be difficult to match so quickly in most better established places. I already look forward to returning.
We cross the Syrian border tonight. I will send an update as soon as I am able.
Leave a comment