The Foreign Service Journal, November 2008

64 F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L / N O V E M B E R 2 0 0 8 t was December in Iraq, but it didn’t feel like the Middle East. It was Seattle-cold and drizzly, not like in the movies where the Arabian Peninsula is sand dunes and blistering sun. Mud, gravel and thick, dark dust caked my shoes, my hair and the floors of my office and the trailer where I slept. There was no Middle Eastern hummus or shawarma or strong, sugary tea. Our dining facility, staffed by a Texas contracting company, served Southern specialties like ham hocks and collard greens and fried potatoes, fried steaks, fried everything. The only other vegetable served seemed to be boiled broccoli. There wasn’t an eggplant or a stuffed grape leaf in sight. This was my third month in Iraq on a volunteer Foreign Service assignment in one of the southern provinces. Our small State Department office was situated in a military enclave and surrounded with security and logistics contrac- tors. My duties included meeting with provincial govern- ment officials, community leaders and reconstruction experts. I listened to them and wrote reports. I tried to help make our efforts better coordinated and less confusing for everyone involved. “Do you know where I could find red ribbons?” Zahra cut into my thoughts with her question. She was one of our Iraqi political assistants. I knew she wanted ribbons because the contractors on the compound were holding a contest for Christmas door-deco- rating as a morale-boosting project. There were even prizes for the best ones. The contest had motivated Zahra to mind- boggling levels. She had crafted a life-size snowman out of cotton balls on her office door, even though she had never seen real snow. Its eyes were dates she had brought in from the city. “Red ribbon? Zahra, your door is already the best one here. What else can you possibly put on it?” “It’s a surprise,” she said. Her dark eyes gleamed. Zahra’s headscarf and conservative clothing covered up her body, focusing the light on her expressive eyes. As far as I could see, Zahra was enjoying the Christmas door contest more than anyone else on the compound. I realized that as a Shiite Muslim living most of her life under Saddam, she probably had not had much chance to have fun. Plus, she had not grown up in America, where Christmas had become a materialistic shopping marathon that started in November and ended in a debt-induced stupor in January. I shared my office with two other reporting officers. We A LOCAL EMPLOYEE ’ S ENTHUSIASM AND HOPE THROW A STARK LIGHT ON THE UNCERTAINTY AND TURMOIL OF THE A MERICAN INTERVENTION IN I RAQ . I B Y R ACHEL S CHNELLER Rachel Schneller joined the Foreign Service in 2001, serv- ing in Skopje, USUN, Conakry, Basrah and the Office of Multilateral Trade Affairs in the Bureau of Economic, Energy and Business Affairs. She received AFSA’s William R. Rivkin Award for Constructive Dissent in 2008 for speaking out about the occurrence of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder in Foreign Service personnel returning from war zones. This story won third place in the Journal ’s 2008 Foreign Service Fiction Contest. FS F I CT I ON Z AHRA ’ S C HRISTMAS