JimSpiri ”THE LAST LAP #4”

The latest journey called, "The Last Lap" - IRAQ, 2015

J uly 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 c a n n o t 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.

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.

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.