A QUAKER SALUTE TO SOLDIERS

A QUAKER SALUTE TO SOLDIERS IN NASIRIYAH: My friend Rick McCutcheon is a Canadian Quaker. In 2000-2001, he and his wife Tamara Fleming served as joint field representatives to Iraq for Quaker and Mennonite service bodies. In the March 2003 issue of The Canadian Friend, Rick has published a recollection of one particularly poignant encounter he had with an Iraqi military unit. I’ll post the start of the piece here, with the permission of both Rick and The Canadian Friend:
A Quaker Salute to Soldiers in Nasiriyah, by Richard McCutcheon
There is a town about 375 kilometers south of Baghdad called Nasiriyah. Tamara and I came to love it while we lived in Iraq, and traveled there several times. Those familiar with the Bible may know it by its biblical name, Ur, the place where Abraham is said to have lived for about 65 years. Someday, when times are different, we have talked about going back to live in Nasiriyah — just to live with and learn from the people there. To get acquainted, perhaps, with the works of Haboobi, the patron poet of the city, whose statue stands in the center of the round-about in the heart of the town.
Nasiriyah is located on the banks of the Euphrates river. The Al-Janoob Hotel, where we stayed whenever we visited Nasiriyah, is on the road that runs along the river. When you exit the front door of the hotel, walk across the road, and pass through a small park not more than 10 meters across, you come to a paved promenade with a low wall running along the river bank. It is a short hop over the wall and down to the water’s edge. It’s truly a beautiful spot — I see it in my mind’s eye this very moment
as I write this sitting at my desk.
One morning I woke up quite early. Sleep wouldn’t come to me, so I thought I might as well get up. I happen to be an avid amateur photographer. The idea — perhaps rooted in some romantic notion of the Euphrates — came to me to go down to the water’s edge in the early pre-dawn light to take a picture of the river. I knew that this was not something that I was supposed to do — that is, to go out on my own, especially in a southern town known for its anti-government tendencies. In retrospect, I might have got the government official who traveled with us into trouble, not to mention my wife and I. But I went ahead and got dressed, slung my old Nikon camera over my shoulder, and headed for the river…
Read the rest here.