January 17, 2004
We spent the morning exploring the Erbil bazaar and found this sweetshop, which serves baklava, yellow puddings, and sweet hot tea. Outside of this sweetshop, is the section of the Erbil bazaar where radios and stereos are tested (or maybe they are testing out music cassettes—we are not entirely sure). The noise is so deafening that we thought they might serve up earplugs with their goodies.
One of the things that strikes me over and over when we go to the Erbil bazaar, which is an ever-winding, twisting, and never-ending series of alley ways and covered halls, is the nearly complete absence of women. All the shops, including the women’s clothing shops, are staffed by men. Yes, there are some women shoppers but the place is about 95% men. I keep wondering: WHERE are the women?
At left you can see the Erbil Citadel rising in the background of the bazaar. The Citadel rises about 200 feet above the flat plain in which Erbil is located. Frank describes it as a “man-made mesa topped by ancient masonry in the middle of the city”, i.e. piles of bricks trying to be homes and inhabited by hundreds of squatters. So far that doesn’t sound very interesting, but it is said to have been inhabited continuously for over 4,000 years---and it looks it! Frank and I hope to spend more time investigating it in the future.
Frank’s job: in addition to running his sweetshop, it looks as if Frank will be managing some large warehouses full of U.N. goods which have been turned over to the Kurds. They are interested in putting a foreigner in the post of warehouse manager because they need someone who is not susceptible to pressure by the Ministries to release goods without proper approval. And someone who can organize a HUGE inventory – these goods were purchased under the U.N.’s Oil for Food program, a program which has now been turned over to the Kurdistan Regional Government.
My hospital adventure (not pictured here…): I recently had the chance to visit a Kurdish hospital to follow up on a possible infection. My visit followed a huge rainstorm and as a result, my impression of the place was a rather “wet” one. First, the parking lot had been transformed into such a lake that Frank was forced to stay in the car after he had parked—the water was too deep for him to get out. Inside the hospital was quite dark (but heated, fortunately) and dripping EVERYWHERE. The elevator shafts were empty—apparently they had never gotten their elevators, and the courtyards were filled with abandoned hospital beds (for children) in various stages of disrepair. (It’s a Maternity and Pediatric Hospital.) On the up side, the doctors with whom I interacted seemed professional and spoke good English, and I left feeling satisfied with my visit. The conditions are a stark reminder, however, of how much of the world gets its medical care.
We are both well and learning lots.
