JimSpiri ”THE LAST LAP #4”
The latest journey called, "The Last Lap" - IRAQ, 2015
© Jim Spiri 2015
July 12, 2015 Sunday morning in Dholoyia, Iraq. Referring back to events from July 9, 10
and 11th….
It is Sunday morning. Hot again as always. In a few days, Ramadan will be over. I actually have
enjoyed the experience of Ramadan and have benefited from the eating schedule and fasting. I
knew I would be here during this time and had previously decided to participate in the fasting part.
As for water, I keep drinking it. It is very hot and I just don’t want to get dehydrated. It is not at all
a requirement for me to fast, but out of respect for my hosts, I found it a way to enter into their
custom and feel the pulse of the culture. When in Rome….etc.
Since arriving here I’ve been non stop on things. It has taken me this long to get somewhat
organized in my thoughts, my tasks, my archiving of events while at the same time trying my best to
coordinate all the things I want to do in the best manner possible. As always, I am a “one-man-
show”. Getting it down and sent across the globe is not an easy task for an old-school guy. But,
learning it all the best I can, once again. In the old days, 30-years ago, when I would go back and
forth to the war zone of El Salvador, I had the luxury of not having to do everything all at once.
Rather, in those days, I could just wait until I got home and transcribe whatever notes I had taken
and spend the rest of the time developing my black and white photos for a couple weeks and then
putting the story together. These days I find that downloading and uploading digital photos, digital
audio recording and even some simple videos takes all my time even though this day and age it is all
supposed to be easier. I have my doubts about that in all honesty. The problem is, things happen so
fast and time goes by so rapidly that before I know it I’m doing my best to put in writing things that
happened what I thought was a day ago but has turned out to be a few days ago now. It’s just not
that easy. I’m also not as young as I used to be and the elements of summer in Iraq take a toll on
me.
At the moment, I’m battling the never dependable issue of the power grid. Power goes on and off
periodically. Just when I think I’m ready to send things over the net, it goes down. I’m also always
still learning just how to do all this electronic stuff. Sometimes I long for the old days. Today it is
hot and muggy. Currently, I’m wrestling with a swarm of flies that won’t leave me alone. I’m dirty,
sweaty and tired. Not to mention hot. The power is off. But, it is all part of the “obstacles” I was
plenty aware of before I made the decision to come here. Such is life.
Looking back on the short past five days, I’ve managed to get a good hold on this place and the
people I’m among. As mentioned, I am with some Sunnis that are the Joubury tribal folks. I am
fascinated by their story and their life. I knew that when I decided to come, I would focus on them.
But, I had no idea the depth of the heartbeat I would encounter. Dholoyia means, “the heart
between the ribs”.
The evening of July 9th, I was invited again to the home of the Generals this time for Iftar break
fast. That is when the sun
goes down and the big meal
is presented. I’ve now been
to five of these meals and
everyone of them is a feast.
The food is simply
phenomenal. I love it all.
After the meal is consumed,
it is then the time to retire to
the lawn area where chairs
are always set up and serious
discussions take place over
chi, fruit drinks and assorted
nuts and fruits. This is
where I began to learn about
what happened here in
Dholoyia. From these
conversations I began the
following days to seriously
interview on audio record
and sometimes on video, and
always with still photos, the
stories of the battle for
Dholoyia that took place less
than a year ago.
I realized early on that my
burden for coming to this
region has for reals,
materialized into an
historical archive of sorts
from the points of view of
those that fought, were
injured and lost scores and
scores of family members.
All this took place while
those of us in the USA only
saw on the television how
ISIS swarmed in out of
nowhere while we were told
the Iraqis just stood by and watched. Some of these things may be the case up north in Mosul and
out west in Anbar, but here, in the place along the banks of the Tigris River, “the heart between the
ribs” the people stood up to ISIS and said, “NO...not here”.
I soon realized as always, I have bitten off more than I can chew. Now the responsibility has fallen
on me to convey the historical battle and the how and why of the way things turned out. It is a big
task for me. I am glad this is my final journey. For what I see and hear and feel is simply
overwhelming in my being and as usual I’ve began once again to see the invisible that has kept so
many of us back home in the dark. Nothing is clear cut in Iraq. Always the lines are blurred. But
here, I see and hear some things and I must report this as up to now no one from outside Iraq, has or
will do so.
The historic battle for Dholoyia began last year in June of 2014. The first shots were fired on
July 13, 2014 and from then on for the next six months, it never stopped being a war. I would be
taken by the Generals to the cemetery and shown all the graves of those killed during this time. One
hundred and thirty eight, men, women and children lost their lives to ISIS during this time. Over
800 sustained serious injuries. All manner of killing
was used. VBIED’s, (vehicle borne improvised
explosive device); rockets; mortars; heavy machine
guns; small arms; grenades; anything and everything
the enemy could muster. At one point, friendly fire
from the Iraqi Air Force inflicted casualties on the
locals here in Dholoyia. Still, the people resisted
ISIS. When I ask the question, “why did you stand
up to ISIS?”, I more than once received the same
answer. “We are dead either way. If ISIS takes over,
we end up dead. If we fight, chances are we end up
dead. So, we would rather die with honor than be
under the slavery of ISIS. We know who they are.
Whether you call them ISIS, or AQI or whatever,
we’re dead so we all decided to stand and fight with
honor”.
And fight they did. The whole town. Men, women,
children. Old ones, young ones, handicapped ones,
everyone. They all stood up against ISIS and in the
long run, they were victorious. But, as I continue on
this journey among the people of this land called,
Dholoyia, “the heart between the ribs”, I continue to
encounter story after story after story of heartbreak,
tragedy, suffering and of course, victory. But the
price was heavy. For those interested, I have lots of
audios of the stories first hand. I also have on file
the questions and lack of answers as to how all this
has come to be. The audio recordings I have
conducted are hard to accomplish yet they are now
an archive of the pulse of Dholoyia.
As I sit down with person after person after person,
men, women and children, I am constantly in awe of the
price paid for standing one's’ ground. In the time remaining that I have here in Dholoyia, current
events are being shaped by all kinds of activity. I am not far from what is called, Joint Base Balad.
I knew this base back in the day. I also
know something of what goes on there.
Perhaps I will be granted a pass to visit
this place. After all, I worked there for
two years and my wife for one. I’ve
flown into this place on Chinook
helicopters that my son was flying.
I’ve got some history in this area. But
these are strange days here in Iraq.
Very strange. Something is about to
happen and what that is, is surely the
question of the day. The most
common comment among the locals is,
“why did the Americans leave when
the job was still unfinished? Why did
the Americans just hand over Iraq to
Iran”?
When I hear time after time these
questions from the locals I’m staying
with , I have to maintain professional journalistic composure and remain calm.
It’s so odd to me. The same exact questions are asked in my own home. Honest answers are few
and far between. In the mean
time, I will stop for now as I am
exhausted again and cannot write
anymore. The blanks will have to
be filled in by the still photos and
audios. I remember a lyric by
singer-songwriter Jimmy Buffet
that says, “answers are the easy
part, questions raise the doubt”.
At the moment I doubt anyone in
both governments want to answer
any questions which only
continues to create more serious
doubt about the future for
Dholoyia and the rest of Iraq.
and 11th….
It is Sunday morning. Hot again as always. In a few days, Ramadan will be over. I actually have
enjoyed the experience of Ramadan and have benefited from the eating schedule and fasting. I
knew I would be here during this time and had previously decided to participate in the fasting part.
As for water, I keep drinking it. It is very hot and I just don’t want to get dehydrated. It is not at all
a requirement for me to fast, but out of respect for my hosts, I found it a way to enter into their
custom and feel the pulse of the culture. When in Rome….etc.
Since arriving here I’ve been non stop on things. It has taken me this long to get somewhat
organized in my thoughts, my tasks, my archiving of events while at the same time trying my best to
coordinate all the things I want to do in the best manner possible. As always, I am a “one-man-
show”. Getting it down and sent across the globe is not an easy task for an old-school guy. But,
learning it all the best I can, once again. In the old days, 30-years ago, when I would go back and
forth to the war zone of El Salvador, I had the luxury of not having to do everything all at once.
Rather, in those days, I could just wait until I got home and transcribe whatever notes I had taken
and spend the rest of the time developing my black and white photos for a couple weeks and then
putting the story together. These days I find that downloading and uploading digital photos, digital
audio recording and even some simple videos takes all my time even though this day and age it is all
supposed to be easier. I have my doubts about that in all honesty. The problem is, things happen so
fast and time goes by so rapidly that before I know it I’m doing my best to put in writing things that
happened what I thought was a day ago but has turned out to be a few days ago now. It’s just not
that easy. I’m also not as young as I used to be and the elements of summer in Iraq take a toll on
me.
At the moment, I’m battling the never dependable issue of the power grid. Power goes on and off
periodically. Just when I think I’m ready to send things over the net, it goes down. I’m also always
still learning just how to do all this electronic stuff. Sometimes I long for the old days. Today it is
hot and muggy. Currently, I’m wrestling with a swarm of flies that won’t leave me alone. I’m dirty,
sweaty and tired. Not to mention hot. The power is off. But, it is all part of the “obstacles” I was
plenty aware of before I made the decision to come here. Such is life.
Looking back on the short past five days, I’ve managed to get a good hold on this place and the
people I’m among. As mentioned, I am with some Sunnis that are the Joubury tribal folks. I am
fascinated by their story and their life. I knew that when I decided to come, I would focus on them.
But, I had no idea the depth of the heartbeat I would encounter. Dholoyia means, “the heart
between the ribs”.
The evening of July 9th, I was invited again to the home of the Generals this time for Iftar break
fast. That is when the sun
goes down and the big meal
is presented. I’ve now been
to five of these meals and
everyone of them is a feast.
The food is simply
phenomenal. I love it all.
After the meal is consumed,
it is then the time to retire to
the lawn area where chairs
are always set up and serious
discussions take place over
chi, fruit drinks and assorted
nuts and fruits. This is
where I began to learn about
what happened here in
Dholoyia. From these
conversations I began the
following days to seriously
interview on audio record
and sometimes on video, and
always with still photos, the
stories of the battle for
Dholoyia that took place less
than a year ago.
I realized early on that my
burden for coming to this
region has for reals,
materialized into an
historical archive of sorts
from the points of view of
those that fought, were
injured and lost scores and
scores of family members.
All this took place while
those of us in the USA only
saw on the television how
ISIS swarmed in out of
nowhere while we were told
the Iraqis just stood by and watched. Some of these things may be the case up north in Mosul and
out west in Anbar, but here, in the place along the banks of the Tigris River, “the heart between the
ribs” the people stood up to ISIS and said, “NO...not here”.
I soon realized as always, I have bitten off more than I can chew. Now the responsibility has fallen
on me to convey the historical battle and the how and why of the way things turned out. It is a big
task for me. I am glad this is my final journey. For what I see and hear and feel is simply
overwhelming in my being and as usual I’ve began once again to see the invisible that has kept so
many of us back home in the dark. Nothing is clear cut in Iraq. Always the lines are blurred. But
here, I see and hear some things and I must report this as up to now no one from outside Iraq, has or
will do so.
The historic battle for Dholoyia began last year in June of 2014. The first shots were fired on
July 13, 2014 and from then on for the next six months, it never stopped being a war. I would be
taken by the Generals to the cemetery and shown all the graves of those killed during this time. One
hundred and thirty eight, men, women and children lost their lives to ISIS during this time. Over
800 sustained serious injuries. All manner of killing
was used. VBIED’s, (vehicle borne improvised
explosive device); rockets; mortars; heavy machine
guns; small arms; grenades; anything and everything
the enemy could muster. At one point, friendly fire
from the Iraqi Air Force inflicted casualties on the
locals here in Dholoyia. Still, the people resisted
ISIS. When I ask the question, “why did you stand
up to ISIS?”, I more than once received the same
answer. “We are dead either way. If ISIS takes over,
we end up dead. If we fight, chances are we end up
dead. So, we would rather die with honor than be
under the slavery of ISIS. We know who they are.
Whether you call them ISIS, or AQI or whatever,
we’re dead so we all decided to stand and fight with
honor”.
And fight they did. The whole town. Men, women,
children. Old ones, young ones, handicapped ones,
everyone. They all stood up against ISIS and in the
long run, they were victorious. But, as I continue on
this journey among the people of this land called,
Dholoyia, “the heart between the ribs”, I continue to
encounter story after story after story of heartbreak,
tragedy, suffering and of course, victory. But the
price was heavy. For those interested, I have lots of
audios of the stories first hand. I also have on file
the questions and lack of answers as to how all this
has come to be. The audio recordings I have
conducted are hard to accomplish yet they are now
an archive of the pulse of Dholoyia.
As I sit down with person after person after person,
men, women and children, I am constantly in awe of the
price paid for standing one's’ ground. In the time remaining that I have here in Dholoyia, current
events are being shaped by all kinds of activity. I am not far from what is called, Joint Base Balad.
I knew this base back in the day. I also
know something of what goes on there.
Perhaps I will be granted a pass to visit
this place. After all, I worked there for
two years and my wife for one. I’ve
flown into this place on Chinook
helicopters that my son was flying.
I’ve got some history in this area. But
these are strange days here in Iraq.
Very strange. Something is about to
happen and what that is, is surely the
question of the day. The most
common comment among the locals is,
“why did the Americans leave when
the job was still unfinished? Why did
the Americans just hand over Iraq to
Iran”?
When I hear time after time these
questions from the locals I’m staying
with , I have to maintain professional journalistic composure and remain calm.
It’s so odd to me. The same exact questions are asked in my own home. Honest answers are few
and far between. In the mean
time, I will stop for now as I am
exhausted again and cannot write
anymore. The blanks will have to
be filled in by the still photos and
audios. I remember a lyric by
singer-songwriter Jimmy Buffet
that says, “answers are the easy
part, questions raise the doubt”.
At the moment I doubt anyone in
both governments want to answer
any questions which only
continues to create more serious
doubt about the future for
Dholoyia and the rest of Iraq.
The Last Lap #4
General Abdullah at the cemetery where the warriors
were buried. Most were buried in gardens at home
and later transferred to the cemetery after the battle
ended in January 2015
A father and mother mourn the loss of their son who
was killed defending the town against ISIS.
Mother grieves at son's grave
General Abdullah visiting the grave of his brother
who had been killed undr orders from American
soldiers in June of 2003. He was killed on false
inforation which the brass said there must be some
mistake. He had been accused falsely and the folks
occupying his home afterwards was none other
than Tommy Franks of the USA.
Eating the Iftar meal with my friends. The food is excellent.
After the meal, it is customary to sit around and drink tea and
smoke and discuss many things.
This lady is a hero in Dholoyia. She is the mother of one
of my friends. She is over 60. She is famous for taking
up arms and fighting on the front lines in Dholoyia
This is my friend Hechmet (L) and his brother,
Abdullah (R).They fought valiantly against ISIS and
paid a heavy price.
This is me with the family of Hechmet. It is an honor
to be in their home and eat with them.
General Abdullah (L) His sister (C) and
the son of the sister, Hechmet (R). These
three along with hundreds of others are
heroes in the battle for Dholoyia. They
defeated ISIS and never gave up.
My hosts youngest brother who is an
Iraqi policeman. He was wounded twice
during the 7-month battle in Dholoyia.
At the police station with my hosts youngest
brother, (far Right, Nektal, age 23) and friends.
This is a hero in Dholoyia. I call him, "the old man
that throws grenades". I have seen video of his
actions. Along side him is one of his grandaughters.
that throws grenades". I have seen video of his
actions. Along side him is one of his grandaughters.
This is Raihanah. Her names comes from an herb
that is sweet to the taste. She is absolutely beautiful.
This woman lost two sons. One son was killed recently
and she received only his head. She now cares for the
children left behind.
This is the family that lost two
sons to war, both to ISIS. This is
the aunt and uncle of my host. The
man is named Mohammad.
People that invite me to their homes for a
meal and tell me their stories.
FRIENDS!
The father of my friend Hechmet. This man is a hero in the
battle for Dholoyia against ISIS. He invited me to eat with he
and his family. It was a wonderful evening.
