For the last 5 weeks, I’ve lived and worked with the Muslim Peacemaker Teams and my host, Sami Rasouli. Tomorrow I fly back to Minneapolis.It has been an eye-opening and life-changing experience. The many Iraqis that I’ve met have invariably been welcoming, generous, and kind. This despite the fact that the illegal U.S. occupation of Iraq continues, and despite the death and destruction that my country has brought to theirs.My visit was very different than the “visit” of most Americans. I came to Iraq as an unarmed guest seeking to build respectful relationships between people. My American counterparts in military uniforms came to Iraq armed to the teeth, seeking to storm the country into submission.American soldiers are still here and Iraq is still an occupied, “war-torn” country. When Sami and I visited Baghdad, he said, “Look what’s happened to this city. It was such a beautiful place when I visited it growing up.” Now buildings are destroyed or riddled with bullet holes. Concrete walls and military checkpoints divide neighborhoods. Garbage and rubble are everywhere and roads are in disrepair.Among the most frustrating effects of the war and U.S. occupation are the lack of electricity, which comes and goes every couple of hours, and the lack of clean water. The American occupiers and the Iraqi government have not yet been able to restore basic services.Despite the death and destruction of the war (at least 100,000 Iraqi civilians dead, perhaps more than 1 million), daily life continues and Iraqis are working hard to rebuild. In the English class that I helped teach, Sami and I taught the word “resilience” to our students. It was ironic that we were the teachers.As Iraqis work to end the occupation and begin to rebuild, Sami and MPT are doing critical work to help ensure that what is rebuilt is a peaceful, nonviolent civil society. The sectarianism ...

If there’s one general insight that has stayed with me from the IR501 (International Relations and Religion) course I took in grad school, it’s that categories suck. “Christian,” “American,” “Arab,” “Muslim,” “Liberal,” “Friend,” etc. serve an important purpose of helping us order the complex information we process every day, but they also simplify and homogenize that complexity.One example is the category of “Iraqi” in American media. When the majority of printed pictures of Iraqis portray “terrorists” or scenes of death and destruction, “Iraqi”–which is an incredibly diverse category–can be reduced to “violent terrorist” in the minds of those who digest media uncritically.During my month here in Najaf, my host Sami Rasouli has introduced me to many Iraqis who don’t fit the category, “Iraqi” (as it has been defined in America). For the sake of exploding / adding nuance to that category, I’d like to share a little about a few of these people. They have invariably been generous, welcoming, and kind—perhaps better descriptors for the category of “Iraqi”–but they are also diverse. 

Over the last two and a half weeks, my host Sami and I have visited a number of medical facilities in Iraq: the public hospital in Najaf, a prosthetics and orthotics center, and the public hospital in Nasriyyah. All confirmed the disastrous human cost of the Iraq War.Since 2003,  at least 100,000 Iraqi civilians have died as a result of the U.S.-led war. Some estimates put the number at over 1 million. Iraq’s “health has deteriorated to a level not seen since the 1950s,” seventy percent of children suffer from trauma-related symptoms, and there are perhaps five million orphans in Iraq–almost half of the country’s children.During my first week in Najaf, Sami and I visited As-Sadr Hospital, the public hospital in Najaf. A number of doctors at the hospital will travel to Minneapolis this fall as part of the Sister City relationship between the two cities. Sami’s brother-in-law, Dr. Amer Majeed, met us at the hospital x-ray room.The hospital was crowded. It is one of 18 hospitals that Saddam built across the country–one in each of Iraq’s 18 provinces. After 2003 it was renamed from “Saddam Hussein Hospital” to “As-Sadr Hospital.” Like all public hospitals in Iraq, treatment at the hospital ...

On Wednesday, June 29th, Fatin al-Jumaily and her husband Wathiq drove from Karbala to Sami’s house in Najaf to pick me up. I met Fatin last August when she came to Minneapolis as a featured Iraqi artist in the exhibit, The Art of Conflict. Her paintings and presentations in Minneapolis focused on the experience of women in the Iraq War. She and Wathiq came to pick me up in Wathiq’s brother’s car, a 2007 Hyundai, because it has air conditioning and their’s doesn’t.

On the way to Karbala we were stopped at one check point. The army officer asked about me and Wathiq said I’m an American Muslim going to visit the shrines in Karbala. I’m not Muslim, but the army officer let us pass without further questions. Later that evening I saw that people from all over the world, including some from the West, come to Karbala to visit the shrines.

We arrived at Fatin and Wathiq’s house around 6 pm. They are poor and have a very humble house, but Fatin prepared snacks (we ate dinner much later) and they had gifts waiting for me–a set of headphones and a planner with a calendar and maps of Iraq. We talked about Fatin’s students (she’s an art teacher at a public school close to their house) and her hope to continue her education in art history. A couple of years ago her students sent letters and art drawings to a school in Minneapolis as part of the Letters for Peace program of the Iraqi and American Reconciliation Project.

After about an hour we left the house to visit the shrines. Fatin and Wathiq live about 5 minutes from the shrines by car, but the two neighborhoods are very different. The streets near Fatin and Wathiq’s house, like many streets in Karbala and Najaf, are broken, bumpy, and narrow. Often there are large obstacles in the middle of the road, such as a pile of dirt, that must be avoided. Garbage and rubble line the ...

On May 29, 2003, a group of American peacemakers left Baghdad for Amman, Jordan. In the middle of the desert, they blew a tire and flipped into the ditch, injuring several of the passengers. Weldon Nisly, a Mennonite pastor from Seattle, was one of those injured. He recalls what happened next: “Some Iraqi men in a car speeding the other direction saw us and stopped to help us while U.S. bombers flew overhead. These Good Samaritans quickly put us in their car and took us to a small clinic in Rutba, where an Iraqi doctor and his medical team treated us.

The Americans were in Iraq with the goal of “getting in the way of war.” Weldon says, “We wanted to help the world see the war through Iraqi eyes.” The medical care given by the people of Rutba, a dusty town in western Iraq, did both: their story of generosity is now the subject of an upcoming book and film, called “The Gospel of Rutba,” and their actions “got in the way” of the discourse of the Iraq War. Theirs is an alternative story involving Iraqis and Americans working for peace.

The Americans who were treated by the people of Rutba—Weldon, Shane Claiborne, Cliff Kindy, and others—were deeply moved. Besides working on a film and book, Shane Claiborne and “The Simple Way” raised money to purchase 12 chlorine generators for Rutba, a town with little access to clean water. In May of this year, Sami Rasouli, Director of the Muslim Peacemaker Teams, traveled to Rutba to deliver the chlorine generators. Sami reports that the people of Rutba were happy and grateful for the gift of friendship.

After driving the seven hours from Najaf, a predominantly Shiite town in Iraq, to Rutba, a Sunni town, Sami was welcomed and hosted by local citizens and Mayor ...

Six days in Iraq and not one Humvee, tank, fighter jet, military escort, or intelligence report. Not one minute inside the Green Zone or between the miles-long walls of American military bases. Hosted by my friend and colleague, Sami Rasouli, I live in Najaf, a city two hours south of Baghdad. At the invitation of Sami, I came here to live and work with the Muslim Peacemaker Teams (MPT), a group of Iraqi peacemakers.Sami and I know each other through our jobs at partner non-profit organizations–Sami at MPT and I at the Iraqi and American Reconciliation Project (IARP). The two organizations are based in the Sister Cities of Minneapolis, USA and Najaf, Iraq. They work together to rebuild peaceful relationships between Americans and Iraqis and support nonviolence in both countries.Since its founding in 2004, MPT has accomplished a lot. It has provided clean water to over 27,000 Iraqi students and promoted national unity through friendly soccer matches across Iraq.  It held community roundtable meetings to discuss the new constitution in 2005 and helped stem the spread of cholera in 2007 through hygiene education. Recently MPT began hosting Americans to live and work in Iraq as an alternative model of peaceful coexistence. This project is small compared to the scope of the American war on Iraq, but it is dissent against the hegemonic discourse of war. It is an affirmation that we are still brothers and sisters and that war does not have the final say.My visit to Iraq is very different from the “visit” of most Americans. I came to Iraq motivated by the principles of MPT and IARP, an unarmed guest seeking to build respectful relationships between people. My American counterparts in military uniforms–while perhaps motivated by misinformed ideals of protecting their country–came to Iraq armed to the teeth, seeking to storm the country into submission.On my first day in Iraq, I met no sergeants or lieutenants. I met a nuclear ...

My first day in Iraq was marked by warm welcome after warm welcome. (And not because the temperature was 110 degrees.)I flew out of Amman, Jordan at 1 am on Sunday morning, June 19, and arrived in Najaf an hour and a half later. My host, Sami Rasouli, was waiting for me. The airport staff was polite and curious: Where are you from? Welcome to Najaf, hope you enjoy our city! What are you doing in Najaf? Where did you learn Arabic? Ma’a Salaama (with peace/goodbye)!After I gave the visa officer my documents, it was a quick process to approve my entry into Iraq.Sami’s brother-in-law picked us up and drove us through Najaf to Sami’s house. It was early morning after a sleepless night, but it was a first chance to catch up with Sami (I last saw him in snowy Minneapolis during his visit there this winter). Sami is charismatic and warm with a hearty sense of humour, and I quickly felt at ease. He pointed out new construction, Kufa University (which has an official relationship with the University of Minnesota), government buildings, roads to Karbala and other nearby towns, and places where our mutual friends live. We reached Sami’s home at 5 am.After a few hours of sleep, we woke up for breakfast with Sami’s family. Sami’s wife Suaad had prepared eggs, bread with cheese or honey, rolls, tomatoes and cucumbers, fruit, and tea. Though more reserved than her husband, Suaad also welcomed me with a big smile and impeccable hospitality. She is very patient with my broken Arabic and careful to make sure I have everything I need.Sami and Suaad have two sons, Redha, 9, and Omar, 3. Redha is quiet and can speak good English when he chooses. On my second day in Najaf we played a game of Candy Land that I brought with me as a gift. Almost every card he drew sent him ahead only 1 or 2 spaces or back to Gumdrop Mountain or Candy Cane Forest, but he didn’t complain. Omar is the most energetic 3-year old I’ve ever seen. I made the mistake of ...

I leave today from Minneapolis for Najaf, Iraq, where I will live for a month. After a few days in Amman, Jordan, I’ll stay in Najaf until July 20 to work with the Muslim Peacemaker Teams (MPT) and its director, Sami Rasouli. MPT is a non-profit organization supporting human rights and nonviolence in Iraq.I’ll be in Najaf as part of the Iraqi and American Reconciliation Project (IARP), where I have worked for the last three years. IARP uses art, education, health, and cultural exchange programs to support reconciliation between Iraqis and Americans. It’s an organization that works to rebuild relationships broken by war.I’ll also be traveling as a Minneapolitan to my Sister City of Najaf, carrying a letter from Minneapolis Mayor RT Rybak to Najaf Governor Adnan Al-Zurufi. Minneapolis and Najaf became Sister Cities in 2009, establishing a city to city friendship and initiating professional and personal citizen connections. Since then, 5 delegations of doctors, city officials, engineers, academics, artists, and others have traveled from Najaf to Minneapolis. I’ll be the 2nd delegation (both 1-person) from Minneapolis to Najaf (you can read about the first delegation here).Many of my friends and relatives have asked why I’m going on this trip. From my limited knowledge, Iraq remains torn by American-led war and sanctions. It has left the spotlight of American media. But I am not going as a “war correspondent” to report on the devastation of war, and I am not (I hope) going with an American-centric perspective. I want to meet in person the Iraqis ...