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Nicholas J. Cademartori is a 22-year-old infantryman with the U.S. Army's 1st Infantry Division. After four years in the National Guard, he asked to be released from his Guard contract so he could join the regular Army. He has been in Iraq since March. His blog can be found at http://www.thequestingcat.com .
May 7 and May 24, 2004
One thing I always notice about old war movies is that soldiers always attach a slang word to their enemy that has some negative connotations. In WWI and II, it was Kraut. Vietnam, it was the gooks. Out here, it is "Hadji," like in the old Jonny Quest cartoons. All people out here are Hadji. No malice to it: It is just what we call them.
The other day, a sergeant and I were told to take our truck and go and pull security. This is generally a very dull job (thank god). So we went out and were just sitting peacefully when we saw a middle aged Iraqi farmer in his field waving to us. Curious, I went to investigate while my buddy covered me with the 50 cal.
When I reached his field it became obvious that the man did not speak English. He was tall and thin, and smiled continuously. He had a small plot of land with a little shack off in the corner of the fields, and a slow shallow stream ran down the middle for irrigation. You could tell that this was this man's life, his entire livelihood.
He held a tomato out to me, it was not entirely ripe, and a little misshapen, but it appeared entirely edible. I took it, since it is rude here to refuse food. He seemed ecstatic about this, and hurriedly began rooting through his fields for ripe tomatoes.
Hadji vendors love to give you the product first, let you take a few bites, then give you the price. I took out all the money I had — one quarter — and offered it to him in exchange for five or six tomatoes, anything not to seem rude. He pushed aside my meager offering and offered me an eggplant.
Once I realized he didn't want money, I was very curious what he was doing. I mean, was this some kind of tribute he would pay to Iraqi soldiers under Saddam? Was he trying to bribe me to do something for him? He signed that he wanted me to try the tomato, and pointed to the brook and made washing gestures. I washed myself a little and the tomato, then gave it a shot, eating it like it was an apple. It was delicious.
By this point he had collected up quite a batch of tomatoes and an eggplant in his robe, and he wanted to take them over to my truck for my buddy. I asked if he was sure he didn't want any money. He shook his head and pointed up. "For Allah?" I said, and he nodded and said "Allah." He was doing it to be a good man. To do right by Allah. By this simple act, he touched me deeply. He gave me faith in the people of Iraq. He let me know that what we have done here is appreciated, and that these people and I are not so far apart.
I will never believe that my enemy is unredeemable. I will never believe that all Iraqis are the enemy. But I can have no faith in man untested, and truth be told, I have never gotten a truly unselfish vibe from anyone in this country no matter where I've been. They want desperately to take advantage of soldiers' paychecks. But this man living in a shack off the main road has become the first Iraqi I have met since coming here who didn't. And I hope to God that we don't let him down. | |
