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Muhsan is a 77-year old Kurdish gentlemen who lives in Amadiyah, Dahuk Province, Iraq. Amadiyah, also called Amadi, is approximately 10 miles south of Turkey. Muhsan is the most influential person in Amadiyah; he is also highly regarded and respected throughout the entire province of Dahuk. He spent most of his life as a Freedom Fighter fighting for the Kurdish people. At one point in his life, he was a Member of Parliament for Kurdistan. I had the privilege of meeting Muhsan during my recent visit to Dahuk. Gee was able to arrange the meeting because of his family ties. Muhsan is the uncle of Ravina, Gee’s wife. I visited with Muhsan at the KDP Headquarters building in Amadiyah where his son, Muhammad, works as the KDP leader for the region. It turned into quite an event. After spending a couple of hours in discussions, we had lunch at Muhammad’s house with his father and some of his brothers. In the photo, seated on the orange couch are Muhammad and Glenn. Kneeling in the front is Saleh, Muhsan’s son who is running their farm and tending the livestock. Kneeling in the back is Muhsan’s son Hakar. He is the head of the Special Forces group that provides security at PM Barzani’s ranch. Standing is Ahmad, the son of Muhsan’s daughter. Ahmad’s father was killed by Saddam’s forces in the early 80s. Next is Gee. After Gee is Hashe, Muhsan’s youngest son and personal driver. Hashe’s daughter is in the picture, but I didn’t get her name. The last one standing is Rebin, Hakar’s son. I am seated on the couch next to Muhsan, the patriarch.

After lunch, Muhsan took us into the mountains to see the snow. He is very proud of a road construction project that will provide access for some of the isolated mountain villages and wanted us to see it. We drove along the finished portion of the road and parked at the end. Then we began walking further into the mountains on the unfinished portion. He is extremely fit for a 77-year old man. As he said, he spent most of his life living and fighting in the same mountains. At the crest of one hill, we spotted a Kurdistan flag flying. It had been left by the construction crew when they stopped work for the winter.

The last two days have been warm and the insects and frogs have started making sounds at dusk. I am praying that Spring is arriving. Last week, while my parents were here, the weather was cold. We had the pellet stove burning every day. Winter did not want to give up it’s hold just yet. As well as the cold last week, we had sickness. Zeke and Abby both got the gastro (as they say in Australia), better known here as the stomach flu. It was a bad one. I slept on a cot in Zeke’s room for a few nights because he had “the throats”, his wording for throwing up. He still periodically informs me, “I’m all done the throats, Mommy.” Throughout their times of sickness, I fought the fears and worries that tried to beset me. “What if I get sick? How can I handle this?…” My worries can just go on and on and on until I work myself into a tizzy. Then, being in a tizzy makes me mad and I begin to rage at the injustice of Army life. “Why did they have to send my husband to Iraq? Why do tours have to be a year or longer? Why won’t this tour ever end?” My rage does me no good. For the Army, Family is far far down the list. Although it is capitalized. In the midst of my worried and angry mood, Zeke came walking down the hallway towards me with a giant tin of marbles and dropped them. Marbles were soon rolling everywhere. I looked at him and said, “You and me Zeke, we’re both losing our marbles.” My friend Martyn calls from Australia to encourage me. My brother, Howie calls and prays with me. Then, all the things that God has been trying to speak to me are once again heard. Peace comes again into my heart. God is faithful to me. Throughout this deployment, God has been faithful to me. I am surrounded by people who have helped me when I’ve needed it and I know would help me again. I tell myself, “think on the good not the bad, be grateful not selfish, love…always hopes.” Spring is full of hope. I see it in the robin looking for worms, the daffodil that has just opened, the yellow stems of the forsythia, the soft buds on the pear tree. “Play some baseball, Mommy?”, Zeke asks. So, out Zeke and I go to pitch and hit and hope for the best part of Spring which will arrive in just over a month.

For some reason, Mugs seems to think everyone is bored with my FOB Life postings! I have been out and about, but I knew you would all much rather read about my new CHU. I guess I’ll change it up today and post about today’s site visit to the Gogjalee neighborhood of Mosul. The Iraqis get a huge kick out of hearing me try to pronounce the names of Iraqi towns, so I won’t bother with a phonetic description of Gogjalee.

After passing over the Tigris River heading east, we drove through one of the gates of Ninevah. Remember Jonah 1:2? “Arise, go to Ninevah, that great city, and cry out against it; for their wickedness has come up before Me.” (The Message) The picture below is actually us heading back through the gates on our return to the FOB, but I wanted to include it first!

At the pump station, there is a family living in the operator’s building. When we arrived the women and one of the sons came out to talk to us. The father and the other sons were away, but we saw them returning as we were leaving.

I was finally prepared for the boy. I bought a pouch for my body armor to hold a stash of goodies. So I was able to give this boy a dum dum sucker and a tiger finger puppet.

After the site visits were complete, I kept my camera ready to take a picture of a particular mosque I had seen on the way out. This is the Nebi Yunus mosque, or in English, the Prophet Jonah mosque. Reportedly, in one of the rooms is a shrine to Jonah complete with whale bones.

The trip itself was very uneventful, thanks to the soldiers of the 3rd ACR. Chris Johnson’s unit, 1-8 Infantry Battalion, is part of 3rd ACR. In my trips outside the wire lately, I’ve noticed a much increased presence of US troops throughout the city. Over the last couple of days, we experienced a huge blast that leveled a three-story building followed the next day by a suicide attack that killed the Mosul Chief of Police. The Governor of Ninewa put a curfew in place, so there were no civilian cars on the road at all today. He must have seen the news reports on the TV in his office!

Since I was so upset about not getting to put up lights this year, I decided to decorate my wall for Christmas. The first time Mugs visited my family in Natchitoches during Christmas, she was utterly amazed that Mama had decorated the bureau instead of a Christmas tree. So in true Manry tradition, here’s my Christmas wall:

Last night, some of us got together for a white elephant gift exchange. Sarah had printed out mistletoe and taped it to the ceiling, so you had to be careful where you stood. I was able to give everyone that came a homemade Christmas card from Gabe’s second grade class at Fredericksburg Christian Schools. In the picture above, notice all of the cards on the white paper. Each kid in Gabe’s class made me a Christmas card. They also made extra cards addressed to “Friend”.
CDR Charles Kliewer joined us for the festivities. He is a US Navy Submariner assigned to the US Army Corps of Engineers for a 6-month deployment to Iraq. He is here on FOB Marez attached to the Provincial Reconstruction Team (PRT) as the liaison officer (LNO) for USACE. He’s still looking for his submarine! Here’s a shot of Charles and Rick unaware that mistletoe is lurking above.

This morning, I slept in until about 0800. After making some coffee and checking email, I just lazed about most of the morning. I got to watch “It’s a Wonderful Life” on AFN. For lunch today, we decided to go to town. So we drove over to the DFAC on FOB Diamondback. The display wasn’t quite as extravagant as Thanksgiving, but they did have a giant Frosty appropriately covered in frosting. Santa Claus was also at the DFAC, so we had one of the DFAC workers take our picture with Santa and Frosty.

The DFAC worker liked it so much, that he asked me to take a picture of him and his buddy with Santa. The he had his buddy take a picture of the two of us with Santa. Next it was a picture of just his buddy with Santa. Then it was a picture of me and his buddy with Santa. Finally, it was a picture of just him with Santa. Here is picture number 2, me and the first DFAC worker.

For Christmas this year, I got a deluxe care package from Richard, including homemade peanut brittle. No one is allowed to tell Howard that I got homemade peanut brittle.  He never reads this blog, right? From Abby, I received the Grumpy ornament, and from Gabe I got silly putty. Zeke gave me a Santa Pez dispenser, while Josiah sent a coffee cup where you can design your own decoration. Mugs gave me a desktop bowling game and a stress-relief football to squeeze. It feels like Stretch Armstrong, if you remember that toy. I guess it feels like Stretch Armstrong even if you don’t remember that toy!

Merry Christmas from Mosul!

My Mother, detecting my sadness as Christmas minus Dale approaches, asked me if there was anything she could do.  “Yes,” I said, “send some chocolates.”  There are certain candies that are a unique part of every family’s Christmas.  We grew up recieving the yearly paper sack filled with an apple, orange, peanuts, and hard candy.  Most years, we shared a box of delicious Cane Lakes Sponge Candy.  Each year I most looked forward to a gift from Jean Demos, a friend of my parents who worked for Fannie May candy in Chicago.  She would send us a box of chocolates.  I’ve been to Switzerland and Belgium and eaten at a fancy chocolate shop in Melbourne, but there is something about a box of Fannie May that always makes me smile.  While my Mom was here for Thanksgiving, I was in the grocery store trying to decide between a box of chocolate from Russell Stovers or Whitmans.  My Mom said to get the Russell Stovers.  I replied that she had always bought Whitmans.  She said that was my Father’s favorite not hers.  Her Mother had always eaten Russell Stovers and she liked it better.  It’s only taken her 65 years to admit it.  When the box of Fannie May chocolates arrived, Zeke helped me open it and then ran through the house yelling, “Everyone! Chocolates!”  There was a thunder of feet behind him.  Zeke grabbed the white chocolate covered truffle and liked it so much, he went to take the other.  Gabe happily ate the lemon filled chocoate and Abby, Josiah, and I divided out the caramels.  Dale wasn’t here, so I ate his milk chocolate covered caramel for him.  The traditional Manry candy is Peanut Butter Fudge and I am quite certain that is what my husband is missing most.  His Mama used to pour out the Peanut Butter Fudge on to two buttered plates, one for the kids and one for Dale’s Daddy.  After Dale joined the Army, he came home on leave and discovered that he was now given the honor of a plate of Peanut Butter Fudge to himself.  Boy did Tommy John complain about that injustice.  Now that we are married, our kids combine his love of peanut butter and my love of chocolate every time they eat their pancakes.  Genetics is funny that way.