I was flying a helicopter over the border into Iraq. These were the rules I knew: You fly directly over the border, turn right, and land in the American patrolled quadrant. Declare that you want to visit Iraq. I think because you had already crossed the border they had to allow you to go to the VISA office or something. Now that I think about it, there was a vague resemblance to the episode of LOST I watched the night before – where Sawyer has to row a boat to another island to do ‘Recon’.
So I am sent to the VISA office to stand in line. The room has tall cielings, checkered patterns and lots of brown. Outside I can see tan & heat. A lot of the people working behind the counters are women fully covered in hijab, but it’s more ornate than I have ever seen – exotic to its extreme, actually almost ‘alien’. I believe there is even a black woman who is wearing three sets of sunglasses and loose scarves.
Two german teenage travelers are standing behind me and I sort of cling to them because I start getting a little scared. I hadn’t really planned on what I was going to say or knew if I was following the proper procedure. The two german guys at least speak some english and tell me they are in Iraq to watch some American bands for the weekend. That idea calms me down a little bit thinking maybe the place is not as scary as I first imagined. When I get up to the counter I see that my uncle is working behind the counter. He quickly snatches me away from the woman who was going to help me, but he does not exchange any words with me about the fact that he is my uncle. I can tell he wants to pretend we don’t know eachother. He asks me a few questions and fills out my paperwork. He hands it to me and I notice two female guards watching the door leading back to the US base. He tells me that this is my formal paperwork. I squint and try to read the writing but it’s very poorly written – I can’t tell if that is partly on purpose. I remember that at least one of the declarations on the paperwork said that if needed I could ‘bake bread for troops’. My feeling is that the list of things on the paper include skills I have that could be eventually used by the Iraqi military in case I was ever arrested or needed in a time of war while on a stay in Iraq. My impression was that it was just a formality of the Iraqi bureaucracy but would never be enforced. Although, I also felt like my my uncle was hiding the fact that I had other skills that the Iraqi military might immediately want. This would ensure me safe travel.
wow this is nuts!
i accidentally read it as “break bread for troops”