Cysfilm

Taking a Break

This is a photo I took on my last flight out of Iraq. I’m still so tired it’s scary. I’ve never felt like this before, I can sleep and sleep and sleep.

I’m going to lay off the blog for a while. I need to rest and concentrate on Bush League. See you soon.

Home

Back in the U.S. now. Feels great to be home. The trip to Israel was great. I managed to find two survivors from Kupiskis who I interviewed. The stories are powerful.

These photos are from Masada. That’s Israeli filmmaker Yaniv Berman and his little brother on the trail.

Drinking the Tigris: Last Drink

last morning in Iraq

Iraq is behind me for good. I flew out to Jordan then traveled by taxi to the Israeli border and then caught a ride down to Tel Aviv. It feels wonderful to know it’s behind me. I’m staying in Israel for two weeks relaxing but also to interview anyone I can find from the Litvak community. In 2005 I started shooting a doc in Lithuania about the Jewish holocaust there. Like Bush League, I want to do a village level survey of what happened. I’m trying to find survivors from Kupiskis (where I worked as a Peace Corps volunteer) here in Israel. I got some numbers and contacts, we’ll see what happens. Bush League is my real focus right now but I couldn’t pass up the chance since I was so close to Israel.

Drinking the Tigris: Final Reminder

If I needed any reminders of why I’m leaving Iraq this Sunday, I got them this week. Two nights ago our area was hit with a rocket; big one that landed somewhere just outside the base parameter. It’s been more than six months since we had incoming. Took me a second to register it, then bail for the shelter. It was only one shot, but a thumper.

Tonight is a bad dust storm. Kind of a mix really. A tiny bit of rain mixed with fog and loads of dust. With these storms comes gooey eyeballs, allergies, headaches, and massive delays and cancellations of flights, so the whole rhythm of the air port goes to pot. It’s a great time to get out.

Drinking the Tigris: Local Music

Sometimes the only thing I can do to remind myself that I’m in Iraq is turn on the radio. I’m buried deep inside a military complex outside the city. I could be anywhere. The only thing that makes it through to me are the radio stations. Here’s a link to an Iraqi hit song posted by the NY Times Baghdad Bureau. The song is by Hussam al-Rassam.

http://podcasts.nytimes.com/podcasts/2009/01/22/23rassam.mp3

The lyrics are:

“Hey brother hand me the Brno (Czech made rifle).

I want to fire some shots.

The eyes of my beloved have cast a spell on me.

I am on fire.

Her stare is more precise and lethal than the Brno.

Mr. GMC driver take me to Ramadi, my beloved is in Ramadi.

All men tumble to the wayside with a blink from her eyes.

When she stares at you it feels like being fired at with a machine gun.

You do not know where you are going to be hit.

She’s lethal.”

The GMC is a reference to the armored Suburbans which are a ubiquitous status symbol in Iraq.

The origional piece at NYTimes Baghdad Bureau:

http://baghdadbureau.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/01/23/suvs-and-shotguns/#

Drinking the Tigris: A New Day for America

I feel great. The sun is rising here in Iraq. In eight hours the sun will rise in D.C. and later today Obama will swear in.

George Bush’s photo was still up as I entered the Air Force chow hall a few minutes ago. The two young Airmen that watch the entrance every morning are both happy about the political changes, but added a caveat. “There are so many problems he’s going to have to deal with,” they told me cautiously.

I, on the other hand, think we’ve already dealt with the biggest problem. His picture comes down tomorrow.

Drinking the Tigris: Coffee

10 weeks on the night shift now. I am wrapped in night. Crushed by 12 hours of fluorescent whitish – green hum 7 days a week. I am a mushroom. An owl. A dung beetle. A big bleary eyed night wrapped marsupial. I know the stars by heart and where they are at all hours. I know the moon’s phase and I measure the weeks by it. I forage, growl, drag from the fridge to the phone to the door to the computer to my chair. When I drive I bounce my head on the headrest to stay awake like a fat baby in a high chair. I’m a wreck.

The wind outside is always dead except for the cutting vibrations of helicopters when they land. Even after they’re gone, there’s a constant low frequency vibration in my head and in my hands that I understand to be a call for coffee – I throb for caffeine at all times. I want to take my bones out of my arms, unscrew the caps on the ends and fill them up with the milky heat then shake them like martinis. I’m am a slogging sack of night worms, wanting for light and slow sandy heat. But for now, all I’ve got is a Styrofoam cup of coffee, twice per night.

I need to go home now.

Drinking the Tigris: Indentured Servitude at BIAP

Finally!!! This is starting to get out or Iraq. My favorite CNN reporter, Michael Ware does a report on labor abuse committed by KBR and their subcontractors in Baghdad, specifically in the airport area where I live. This is something I’ve been pressing people about for a year and a half. FBI, Border Patrol, State Dept, nobody is willing to take a stand on this. Meanwhile thousands of migrant laborers, almost all from S.Asia are living without full civil rights, no labor protections, and arguably – in debt bondage. All those jobs soldiers used to do: laundry, cooking, construction, water management, trash removal, in this neo-con war is being done with cheap labor out of S.Asia. The guys who work in our cafeteria make between one and two dollars and hour. They work seven days a week, 12 hours a day. In a month they make less than 700 dollars and they have to PAY to get the jobs. Keep in mind, these guys are working INSIDE American bases. These are the guys who put the food on the soldiers plate. How much did they pay to get here? Most have paid labor brokers between three and five thousand dollars. They sell their family farms or take loans from loan sharks in their home countries at usary interest rates. THIS IS INDENTURED SERVITUDE. WRITE YOUR CONGRESSPERSON(S). This is not my America, but this is all in our names.

Bush League: New Shots from Malawi – Vmbuza

Vmbuza is a healing dance. It happens at the traditional healer’s compound once a week, usually on a Friday night and lasts all night.

The women play a rhythm with wooden sticks. A couple guys play a second rhythm with hand drums. It’s LOUD and it’s POWERFUL. The traditional healer led the songs, which I think are partly or wholly improvised and can last 15 or 20 minutes.

The patients dance until they can’t dance any more. I have no doubt that it makes people feel better. It makes me feel better every time I go!

Bush League: New Shots from Malawi – Futbol

Some shots from the football pitch. It’s the first time I’ve seen Malawi’s dry season, it’s really beautiful in it’s own way.