September 10, 2005

Trust

     Baghdad is broken into sectors called muhollahs, neat geographic zones demarcated by streets and natural landmarks. Every muhollah has a regional powerbroker, an individual or group of individuals that serve as impromptu coordinators for regional projects. This semi chaotic form of local governance is hardly idea, but it seems to work in the densely populated regions in Baghdad.

     But in the scattered settlements in Southern Baghdad there are no muhollahs, just small villages and snaking groups of shantytowns. In these areas the sheiks (pronounced Shakes) carry the mantle of authority. I have no idea what qualifies someone to be a sheik, but in my experience all it seems to take is the consent of the locals.

When we identify an area that needs assistance the first thing we do is talk to the local sheik and ensure that he works with us to make the mission a success. The locals are wise to our pointed questions and the more often then not they quickly prattle off the name of their sheik and point us in the direction of his home. But every once in awhile we run into an area without a sheik – and that’s when things get interesting.

     Several days ago our commander, CPT Mac, was conducting a patrol through Goat Town to assess whether or not they had any critical needs. After talking with the residents for a few minutes it became obvious that the locals were in dire need of some basic medical treatment. CPT Mac moved to the center of the shantytown and walked up to a small group of Iraqi men. As he approached they warmly greeted him, and as greetings were exchanged several other middle aged men joined the small gathering. Once all the pleasantries were exchanged CPT Mac stood there in the middle of the smiling group and asked “Who is the sheik here?”. Without hesitation one of the men blurted out in broken English “We have no sheik”. CPT Mac didn’t miss a beat, and continued his question and answer by asking “Then who is the leader here?”. As soon as the translator relayed his message the entire group exploded in a flurry of heated oration. As the chattering conversations started to die down the English speaking Iraqi turned to the interpreter and spilled out a hurried string of syllables that translated into “There are no leaders here, and if anyone says they are they are a liar”. CPT Mac smiled at his cynical response and asked “So none of you can be the leader?”  The speaker for the group didn’t wait for the translator to convey the message to his fellows, volleying the question by saying “You can not trust any of these men to be the leader”. CPT Mac stifled a laugh and said “So that guy next to you can’t be the leader?”. The man turned to look at his smiling friend and without hesitation chattered back “No, no you can’t trust that guy.”. Deciding to try another tactic CPT Mac asked the man “What about you – can you be the leader?”. The man turned to CPT Mac and said “No, no you can’t choose me. The other guys don’t trust me”. Trying to hold back a grin CPT Mac had the interpreter ask another gentleman who should be the leader. The translator tried not to laugh, but he couldn’t help flashing a wide grin as he turned to the commander and said “the man said that you can’t trust any of these guys to be the leader”. The translator continued to ask each man in turn if any one of their number should be the leader, but this grinning group kept looking at their comrades and conveying how untrustworthy the other were. The odd part about this all is the men were perfectly cordial to one another, neither offended nor embarrassed at their mutual distrust. After a few minutes one of the men came up with a solution to the impasse saying ‘Since none of us can be trusted you must be our sheik!”. The question seemed to hang in the air for a moment, then CPT Mac turned to the group and said “No, no – you can’t trust me either.” As soon as the message was translated the group erupted into deep booming laughs.

As the laughter died down the commander said his goodbyes, leaving the small group of happy but faithless friends to continue their earlier conversation. There was no rancor, just the happy ebb and flow of conversations that had occurred a thousand times over. The commander never did find a leader for the area… but at least he was able to dodge being personally responsible for the entire shantytown. 

Sep 10, 2005 11:49:00 AM | Forging a Nation

2 Comments

Nicholas
Yes, pretty amusing. I hope they got their medical treatment anyway.

Posted by: Nicholas | September 17, 2005 at 19:29

weaser
Now that's funny. I lol'd. I know those characters have some strange ways, don't they?

Posted by: weaser | September 15, 2005 at 15:41

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