An Iraqi in a surge neighborhood gives perspective

The Iraqi is an English speaking reporter who was recently hired by the LA Times:

... It was 7:30 a.m. and I was sound asleep when the troops arrived on my street.

My neighbor called me on the cellphone and said, "The Americans are blocking the street." Because I speak English, he thought I might go talk to them and find out whether we would be allowed to go to work that day.

I stayed in bed 15 more minutes Saturday morning, wondering what to do. It was nice that my neighbors counted on me to help in situations like this, but it was a delicate thing to approach U.S. soldiers. What if they thought I was a suicide bomber?

I live on the edge of Ghazaliya, a Sunni Arab neighborhood in the westernmost part of Baghdad where there are often bombings and assassinations.

Before the current "surge," the military crackdown in the capital, the mosques would always call residents to defend the area from attacks by Shiite Muslim militiamen. The men would grab their AK-47s and fan out on the rooftops. Sometimes the shooting went on for an hour.

It had been quieter lately because the Shiite militias were lying low. But we knew it was only a matter of time before U.S. and Iraqi forces would come to search for armed militants.

I finally decided to get out of bed and unlock the gate. At least that way, the soldiers wouldn't feel the need to break the lock. Once outside, I found the courage to go over and talk to the American troops. A Stryker armored vehicle was blocking the end of my street, and soldiers were putting up barbed wire.

Before I drew near them, the Americans waved their hands and shouted to me in Arabic to go back.

"I came to talk to you!" I shouted back in English. "Can't I talk to you?"

But I don't think they heard me over the roar of the Stryker's engine.

I tried again: "I speak English."

That's when one of the American soldiers took a closer look at me and said: "Aha. And how are you?"

"I'm just fine," I said, relieved.

He and a colleague explained that they were going to search the area and asked whether I had seen any weapons coming through. I said, "No, our street is cool."

...

About 11 a.m., I heard the gate open and my father talking to someone. I opened the kitchen door to an Iraqi soldier and welcomed him inside.

He was a pleasant person and we shook hands. Behind him was an American, who asked whether we had a room where the soldiers could have their lunch.

Surprised, I told him he could use the empty room upstairs.

Two Americans and several Iraqis first did a short search and asked whether we had any weapons in the house. I said no, which was the truth.

One of the Iraqi soldiers asked me to sign a paper stating that my house had not been damaged in the search. "Well, I should be signing that when you leave," I said, "but looking at your faces, I guess it is OK to do that now."

Then they went upstairs to have their meal.

I don't like armed forces much, either American or Iraqi. But I thought: They are in my home, and it is Arabic custom to offer something. I brought them two big bottles of soda.

Before they left, they offered some of their unused MREs. I accepted with a smile as I like the American Army food. But to my disappointment, I discovered later that one of the packets contained pork ribs, which Muslims are forbidden to eat.

My parents were relieved when they left. "Thank God they were nice and polite both times," my mother said. I never told her about my exchange of words with the Iraqi soldier the last time.

The Americans later reported that they discovered two car bombs, two weapons caches and detained 16 suspected terrorists during the search in my area.

...

There is more. It is too bad about those ribs going to waste. It must be getting close to my lunch time. I think this guy probably reflects the anxiety of most Iraqis. I also think his neighborhood will appreciate the protection from the Shia militia.