Are you f _ _ _ _ing crazy, the woman shouts into the phone, when I tell her there is some chance I will leave Erbil and go to Baghdad. She is offering one in a wide range of opinions on whether it is possible to even THINK of travel outside of Kurdistan.
I went to the US Consulate, a bunker I guess you'd call it, yesterday with my newly found "driver" a really great young guy who drives a cab for the hotel. Although there are press reports of a formal opening, I couldn't find an address or phone number. The hotel owner called a few people and said he thought it was in Ainkawa, a suburb of Erbil. Just ask when you get there he told Hassan.
He did as directed, stopping to ask various guards along the road when we got into town. We turned into the street, stopping at a huge double think door with a small rectangular hole cut into it--a slot to look out of. Some fifteen feet above us, along with barbed wire, we could see two cameras. Hassan looked up and whistled. Two eyes appeared on the other side. I explained myself. This wasn’t' the right place they said and directed us farther along the road and around a corner. It is not what one would like for a consulate--attractive and welcoming. It is a flat concrete bunker. There was a long three foot high concrete wall, and behind it two men--not in uniform--but with large guns looked at us. I get out of the car, and explained my situation. "You don't need a visa to go to Baghdad, " the blond guy said to me. If they stamped your visa at the airport here in Erbil, you can go anywhere you want, said the other. Another guy with a gun came out and agreed with this assessment. I ask if they would write a letter of some sort, that I can carry with me when I leave Erbil.
At this point yet another man--without a gun-- comes out. They offer me water, ignoring poor Hassan who I think is not sure what to expect of this trip. I ask for another water, and they say they will check. The latest arrival is Randy. He tells me the consulate isn't really open, and there is no one inside who can see me or help me. After the joyous news reports about the consulate "opening" one expects a bit more than this.
I tell him my story. I applied for a visa to Iraq in January 2010. I have phoned the Iraqi consulate in DC numerous times, and have had people from around the country and around the world write on my behalf, attesting to the fact that I have a project there, and a legitimate reason to visit. Each time I call to check, a nice guy, Ayad tells me "I don't know what is happening with your visa. Everything is sent to Baghdad. There are very few visas being issued." It was Ayad who suggested I contact the US Consulate in Erbil, to see if they could help me.
Apparently there is no copying machine at the new US Consulate because Randy takes out a pad of post-it notes and begins to copy the information from my passport onto small green squares. He looks very stressed out, with two small cuts on either side of his upper lip - shaving accidents I think. He tries to be understanding and always addreses me with a military, mam. I want to give him the written Prospectus I've brought, so they can see there is a real project, with real doctors in Baghdad. He doesn't want to be responsible for anything, he says, "I'm just a guard."
He assures me the information from the post-it notes will be sent to Baghdad within twenty four hours. This sounds very good to me. I am hoping to leave, with an arranged and trusted driver within the next two days. If iI don't hear anything, I will leave anyway. I imagine myself at a check point with a real, truthful explanation of how I applied early, but the visa didn't come; how I left without it and following directions went to the US Consulate where I was assured there was no need for a visa. I imagine the guards at the check points will nod, and say, good luck mam if they are US soldiers or contractors. Or, they will just nod if they are Iraqis. My plan was more-or-less sealed, and I was prepared to tell my contact in Baghdad it was a go.
But, the woman who is shouting (in a friendly way) on the other end of the phone has been working in Erbil for many years, and has, alas, too many horror stories about people trying to fly into Baghdad without visas and suffering terrible consequences. The idea of going overland puts her over the top. She goes on (in a friendly way) about the people she knows who have been kidnapped and held for high ransoms, She describes the men manning the checkpoints as guys who would love to shoot someone who challenges them or doesn't go by the rules.
Despite what I hear on the phone, I am telling myself I don't want to avoid this challenge if at all possible. I want to be brave enough to do what needs to be done, without being stupid about it. I imagine myself writing for the paper, on the blog, telling the tale of a dramatic and tense overland journey, the encounters, the frightening experiences--or the lack of all of this. Perhaps the story would turn out to be one of how scared I was but how the journey was uneventful, proving that one could and should go to Baghdad if you have business there. Just like you would go to Boston or Paris.
Isn't it humiliating and infuriating that after 20+ years of war, sanctions, war and occupation you cannot travel safely --indeed you cannot even get permission to get into Iraq except for the Kurdish region in the north? Is this what democracy looks like? In 2000 I bought a plane ticket and flew into Baghdad airport in a plane filled with activists from the US and Europe, with former attorney general Ramsey Clark. We had boxes and boxes of badly needed medicines with us. They are still in desperate need of medical supplies today, according to the doctors at the hospital. But, today twenty years, billions of dollars and millions of deaths later, one activist acting on her own cannot get a travel visa to visit the children's cancer ward at a pediatric hospital in Baghdad. Is there another place, another situation like this in any place in the world? Maybe Palestine, it might be comparable although I don't know. What I do know is that the situation makes me sick at heart, to be so close--indeed to be inside Iraq, but unable to get to Baghdad. How can this be?