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Saturday, March 17, 2007
My kingdom for a port-a-john
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Ninevah province, Iraq - I am the first woman ever to step foot onto an Iraqi border fort that Georgia soldiers are temporarily using.
I know this just by the expression on Capt. Staff Waleed Mohammed Ibrahim’s face when I walk in with 1st. Lt. Brooks Askew of Atlanta.
Ibrahim quickly confirms my suspicion.
He adds that many of his men, who hail from nearby villages and small towns, have probably never seen a woman wearing pants.
Louie Favorite
Two soldiers from Company H created a makeshift outhouse for the woman on the mission.
I fear that Ibrahim will refuse to be interviewed by a journalist of the “second sex.” I have forgotten on this day to bring along hijab, a head scarf that I wear when I am in conservative Muslim company.
I am relieved when Ibrahim not only agrees to talk but insists that I dine with him. But that is only where my battle begins.
At the border fort, I am surrounded by a platoon of soldiers from Company H, 121st Infantry (ABN)(LRS) and curious Iraqi men who have never seen a woman here, let alone have one live among them.
You could, perhaps, call it one big camping trip out here.
But it’s not as fun as it sounds.
There is no water. No bathrooms.
Think about it. There are no trees in sight. No cover anywhere. And then I am with a bunch of infantrymen who specialize in long range surveillance techniques.
Where am I to find bathroom privacy here?
Cpl. Patrick Heffernan realizes my predicament.
He and Spc. Jonathan McLaughlin set up posts with a blue tarp over it as a makeshift outhouse. I am thankful for the privacy.
Two nights later, a violent storm rolls over the fort. I am burrowed deep in my sleeping bag, thankful for the roof over my head. But all the while I am fraught with worry about the fluttering blue tarp down the hill from the gate. I am thinking the whipping winds will surely bring it down faster than it went up.
In the morning, I walk with great trepidation to the gate. And my greatest fears are confirmed. The tarp is flatter than the surrounding desert terrain.
I start walking to find a safe space. I know there are soldiers in the guard tower with powerful optical devices.
But when you are in the war zone, when your first concern is to stay alive, some things just don’t matter anymore.
And so I’m going back to the border, with another Company H platoon. I am waiting to see which chivalrous soldier will come to my rescue this time.
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