A contractor's life in the Green Zone

Many of the things that areaccepted in America are notgood here, like using your lefthand to point or gesture (left isevil in Iraq), or crossing yourlegs when sitting (you do notshow the soles of your feet as itis disrespectful) or touchingany woman even to shakehands. I have violated theserules many times, but I am trying.If you smile, people knowyou mean well, so I smile a lot.The weather is getting coolerhere, and yesterday, with asmall group, I was able to getinto the locked area of thepalace adjoining our compound,which gives us greatprotection from insurgent mortarand rocket fire.Inside the palace was incredible,a feeling of vast emptinessand hollowness amidst whatwas once grandeur anddetailed workmanship. It waslike walking [on] the surface ofthe moon, dust and debriseverywhere. [The palace wasbombed during the invasionbecause coalition forcesbelieved Saddam Hussein wasin a bunker there.]A nice Iraqi general, when hemet me, told my interpreterthat I looked like an Americanmovie star. I asked who and hesaid Tom Cruise. Go figure.About a week later, anAmerican colonel told me that[the Iraqi general had been]assassinated by insurgents. Hewas kidnapped by armed gunmenon his way home from theIraqi Defense Ministry, wherewe both work. He somehowescaped from the trunk of the car.He ran home to find that oneof his three daughters hadalready been abducted. A callcame from the insurgentstelling him to turn himselfover, or his daughter would bekilled. He went; they releasedhis daughter and executed him.He was a good and helpfulman.We traveled in a Rhino, atype of armor-reinforced superbus,with double-paned bulletproofwindows and rocketresistantarmor all over. Twoarmored Humvees upfront andtwo behind mounted with 50cal. machine guns and SAWs(Squad Automatic Weapons)escorted us.It was a relatively quiet trip,except for a little excitementwhen we were radioed that asuspected VBIED (VehicleBorne Improvised ExplosiveDevice, a.k.a., car bomb) wassitting up ahead.Iraqi police went to investigateas we gave it a wide berth.We did not hear an explosion,so we assumed it was a falsealarm, or they caught theinsurgents prior to detonation.I get strange looks as I kickmy soccer ball off concrete barriersand buildings [during]my morning runs.I have recently begun to passthe ball to the Iraqi police,building guards and even someIraqi citizens. I have found anew way to win the hearts andminds of the people: Soccer.Just outside our compound apickup truck with three Iraqipolicemen is always stationed.I give a long pass to a differentcop each time I complete aloop on my run. They pass itaround and do some trickssuch as a rainbow pass overtheir own heads.Yesterday, they started passingamongst themselves, laughingand saying stuff I could notunderstand. It became obviousthat they wanted me to try andget the ball back from them. SoI became the defender as theypassed the ball amongst thethree of them in the classic soccerwarm-up game three versusone.It took me about five minutesof crazily running back andforth until I was able to stealthe ball back from one of them.We continued to play ... for 30minutes as traffic buzzed by.I was exhausted finally andwent home. But not before oneyoung Iraqi policeman pattedme heartily on the back andshook my hand with [a] big"Shukkran," thank you inArabic.