Ordeal by Meal - Warren

"bleat"

    I had the fortune of being deployed to Iraq during the 2007 "surge", and what came to be our mission--after seven or eight months of IEDs and catching bad guys--was maintaining good relations with our new allies there: the Iraqi people. The legacy of my unit's mission from 2006-2008 was bringing together two local tribes; one shi'i and one sunni. This was the first partnership the country had seen since the invasion and it was an incredibly delicate balance. With this alliance, the Iraqi civilians in our areas kicked out Al Qaeda and the Mahdi Militia on their own; and in return we--the coalition forces--pledged to build schools and hospitals, provide security, and enable them to start their own local security force. So for my unit, what was once dodging IEDs and avoiding ambushes, kicking in doors and finding weapons caches, became kissing babies and making sure everyone gets paid.
    One day while we were out doing the public relation stuffs we were randomly approached by a man. Our interpreter told us that he was inviting us to his home for a meal, to thank us for helping to send one of his children to Baghdad University. We said "sure" and kept walking through the village to finish our mission for the day. On our way back after completing the day's work, the interpreter reminded us that we needed to go in to have dinner with the man. We were horribly tired at this point and agreed that we'd rather not. The interpreter was upset at this and told us that we didn't understand...at that point we noticed the man crossing the road ahead of us. He smiled and waved with one hand, while the other hand was dragging a goat by one of its hind legs, bleating and clawing at the dirt road. We realized as we watched our dinner being dragged across the road, why our interpreter was upset.
    We followed the man into his home. He carefully cracked the door to the room where he was keeping his wife and children to let them know that they had to prepare the dinner. We smoked cigarettes, sipped chai tea, and fought to stay awake while we waited to eat. After a while had past we were brought into his main room where they entertained, ate, and slept. There was a tarp on the floor and atop it in the middle, a vat of rice with meat and vegetables in the center. We were then invited to eat. Never before had a more awkward meal been placed before us. We didn't know if we were to sit or stand, whether on or off the tarp. No wares or utensils of any kind at hand, so we assumed we were digging-in with our fingers. We weren't sure if we were waiting for the man to eat first, or if he would let his wife out of the closet to eat as well. We desperately and tactfully asked our interpreter for a little help and he told us two things: one, that we needn't wait for the wife because she was busy working outside; and two, that we should start from the middle of the vat and work our way to the sides, never starting at the sides because that's where you place your excess and unwanted food. Feigning appreciation we thanked our helpful interpreter and look at eachother--drawing straws in our collective mind to see who'd approach first. The man finally saw that we were struggling with the particulars--the ways and means of how to approach his thoughtful dinner. He told the interpreter to ask us something. Our helpful interpreter asked, "haven't you guys ever had anything to eat before?"
   We ate, and after we had put away our desire for eating and drinking we thanked our host for his hospitality and gave him a couple packs of Marlboro's. We started back towards "home" and were happy to be full. It was a good day.