I was sitting outside our office in Kirkuk, Iraq looking at the orange
sky glowing uncompromisingly against the approaching night. The
sky was not orange because of the setting sun but rather from the
oil fields just north of here. The refineries are old and inefficient
and the Iraqis burn off the excess gas and so there are huge fires
that burn continuously, making a desert scape that looks like a
scene from the film Blade Runner.
I thought about what I can take back from this experience. One
thought I will keep with me is how our country is getting better in
terms of being a multi-cultural, pluralistic society. Relatively
speaking, I think we are doing well. I can go home and eat with an
African American, be neighbors with an Asian American, spend
time getting to know Hispanics and people from all backgrounds
and we are all Americans. I read a lot of troubling stories about
immigration concerns at home, and many of these concerns are
viable; but trust me, our diversity is our strength.
Here in Kirkuk, I see the Iraq that may be. There is a large Kurdish
population, Sunni and Shia Arabs, a thriving Turkomen community
and large groups of Assyrians and Chaldeans. Many third country
nationals working here are from Turkey, Nepal, and the Philippines.
There are ethnic and religious lines, to be certain, but the people
live together and there is hope for a brighter future.
It is amazing to think that when my father was a child, just 40 and
50 years ago, black people were unwelcome in some restaurants
and hotels. A person could expect to receive radically different
treatment by virtue of the color of his skin. Growing up, I heard
racial epithets in conversation as common as I heard discussions
about anything else. Voting districts were drawn to dilute the
votes of minorities and the purpose was not only invidious, but
plain and unhidden.
We’ve come along way in a short time, and if you go out into the
world, you can see we are an example of a society that can be.
I recently met a news producer named Omar. He is Kurdish, and
we are the same age. When he was 13, his family was kicked out
of Kirkuk by the Arabs in power and forced to leave their home and
move farther south. Omar described what “being kicked out”
meant by relating a scene where his father’s car was hurriedly
packed while impatient armed men watched. When I was 13, I was
playing little league baseball and sitting on my parents couch
watching MTV.
Four years ago, Omar was shot during a riot that he was
videotaping. His arm was horribly injured and he still bears a
forearm long, disfiguring scar. He is lucky to still have the arm.
His associates took him to the nearest hospital, where he received
the most rudimentary first aid and was then directed to where he
could find another treatment facility. The hospital would not admit
him because he was Kurdish. That was 4 years ago.
What news comes out of Africa describes more racial separation
and injustice. I read a TIME magazine article about how MILLIONS
of Congolese people have been killed, wounded or displaced since
1998, largely due to racial, ethnic, and religious tensions. The film
HOTEL RWANDA was difficult to watch; not only because of the
atrocities dramatized, but that I have no memory of those events.
In 1992, I was a college graduate and regularly read the newspaper
and watched the news, and yet a racial genocide that killed
hundreds of thousands went unnoticed. The ongoing tragedy in
Darfur continues, whether media cameras capture the images or
not.
More and better communication will fix most of the wrongs of this
world. When people live together as equals, get to know each
other, raise children together, worship together, work and play
together, then their differences can become as thin as the outer
layer of skin.