If it were not for the USA all of your Europeans pansies would be speaking German. So when peace must be preserved you must prepare for war. The next attack could be Paris or Berlin or Madrid.

Our overriding purpose, from the beginning through to the present day, has been world domination- that is, to build and maintain the capacity to coerce everybody else on the planet: nonviolently, if possible; and violently if neccessary. But the purpose of US foriegn policy of domination is not just to make the rest of the world jump through hoops; the purpose is to facilitate our exploitatoin of resources.

-Ramsey Clark, former US Attorney General

Greetings from Baghdad! I only have a very little time right now to try to
send you information about the trip over and the conditions here in Iraq.
This is stream of consciousness writing and I will do my best to help you
see what I am seeing.

We left from California, LAX to Amsterdam, laid over in Amsterdam for 7
wonderful hours and then to Amman Jordan. In Amsterdam we took a train into
the center of the city with all of our buttons on saying Women for Peace. I
Couldn't believe the number of people who expressed their support of
Americans going to Iraq, to work for peace. We arrived in Amman at 2:30 AM
and quickly rushed to vans that transported us out of the city. In the
airport at Amman were several women in conservative Muslim dress. One of
them approached me and asked if I was going to Iraq. She was a Palestinian
who lived in San Francisco on her way to Palestine. She expressed fear.
She had not allowed her children to make the trip but needed to see her
parents. Her eyes were clear and direct and she blessed me for going to
Iraq.

"We must stop all this fighting," she told me. "All of us feel the pain and
it is too much, regardless of our religion or who we are. I will pray that
you are successful." Another conversation in the Muslim bathroom where a
woman helped me to the "western style" toilet in the back of the bathroom.
Another woman explained what my button meant. She quickly kissed my check
and began to cry. Welcome to the very intense, emotionally charged world of
the Middle East.

Amman was gently rolling hills with tiny minarets peeping up over the low,
white brick city. Once we were out of the city we changed to large suburban
vans and were on our way, twelve hours across the desert. A cameraman in my
van explained that I was about to experience Mad Max Arab style. Huge
tanker trucks blew by, some at 100 miles per hour, trucking gas and oil out
of the desert. As we drove deep into the desert the blackness of the night
desert contrasted with the billions and zillions of stars. The sky was just
stunning. Five hours later and the light turned a pale, pale blue. We
stopped in a tiny "strip" village along the road and entered a long open
building. A "cafe." A man sat and warmed his hands on a tiny oil stove. It
was so cold so I also sat and stretched out my hands. I smiled and he
averted his eyes.

We sat at a table and ate a breakfast of very spicy lamb with flatbread and
fresh tiny cucumbers while desert men, with long caftans and heads wrapped
in black checked scarves leaned against the wall and stared. Soft
mutterings explained who we were (or who they thought we were) to the new
men entering the cafe. WE joked with the cafe "owner" about some Arabic
words that sound like very obscene words in English. He understood enough
English to know what we were saying and soon we were all hysterical and the
whole building was, briefly, laughing at our laughter. A very brief but
nice moment of "breaking the ice."

The border took 2 hours as we were processed. There in the middle of the
desert we meet human aid workers from Sweden, Cuba and France while
processing our papers. We were served Iraqi tea in tiny little glasses with
small spoons and lots of sugar. It was delicious. An apparent big Iraqi
official paced outside. He had the longest moustache I have ever seen.
Cell phones are not allowed in Iraq, a result of the sanctions, so some of
our group had to check their cell phones, to be returned when we leave.

The desert was just endless, hours and hours of flat sand, with occasional
rolling hills of sand and a very few Bedouins out with their herds of sheep.
I wondered where in the world they could possibly be going? There was
nothing out there. Nothing. And finally, Baghdad! The first impression on
the outskirts was crumbling flat buildings of concrete and mud, and poverty,
poverty, poverty. As we entered the city we passed a section of stores with
western style wedding dresses. Colorful neon lights and white dresses. It
looked like Mexico City Arab style. The shops were all open stalls, some
enclosed with glass, with food, clothes, but no electronics.

WE came into the center of the city as the sun dropped below the horizon.
After settling into our rooms which were so shabby and poor, with dirty
carpet, shredded furniture and a western style toilet with a pink seat that
fell off at the slightest provocation. At least we did not have to squat as
in some hotels. How do they do it?

Our first full day in the city left me with these impressions: The Iraqi
people were genuine in their welcome of us. They were friendly and warm.
Normal people on the street came to us with hellos and welcome. The society
is crumbling as the deprivation caused by the UN/US imposed sanctions
corrodes the quality of life.

The children's hospital was heart wrenching. Uranium depletion has created
a whole new level of cancer in children and newborns.
(http://www.anacortesonline.com/Article.tpl?id=634) Tiny little bodies with
huge eyes lined the wards. Their mothers waiting by their side, waiting for
the certain death that is to come. This was a very tough visit and several
in the delegation broke down. WE took Polaroid's of each child and gave the
photo to their mother. The hospital was in terrible shape and the staff was
obviously outraged as they spoke of the deterioration of what was once a
very good, functioning, system of socialized medicine.

We have learned now from the number of international aid people working here
in Baghdad that the sanctions prevent most forms of cancer treatment for the
Iraqi people. Here's how it works: The Iraqi's are allowed "food for Oil:
supposedly. But 45% of the $$ goes for administrative costs of the
Sanctions program. The Iraqis first must make contracts with foreign
companies for medicine and food. Those contracts are then sent to the UN
committee where at times they sit for months and in a few instances, more
than a year. Then the contracts are partially granted. If anything can be
used, even derivatively, for "weapons of mass destruction", it is denied.
So, for instance, when they asked for the equipment to draw blood for blood
banks which they so desperately need, they were given the blood bags but not
the syringes. So the blood bags were warehoused while they waited for the
syringes (which have never come) and then they were accused of warehousing
the humanitarian supplies.

We heard so many stories like this from both the Iraqi medical people and
the international humanitarian relief workers. The humanitarian relief
workers were enraged at the sanctions. One of them termed it genocide. So
many instances of systematic depravation. Vaccines denied. People dying of
perfectly treatable diseases. Pleas to send children out of the country for
treatment. Waiting for an answer while the child wastes away. The city is
crumbling. Repairs are not possible. We pass what were once so obviously
beautiful gardens along the River Tigris that are now dried and decayed, the
arbors protruding like skeletal ribs on a dying carcass. There is a quiet
desperation here. A waiting. And an attempt to carry on.

Last night we went to a theater where a comedy was performed. We could not
understand a word but it was so fun to see a live performance. The
performers were astonishing, big talents here. As I listened to the
laughter I realized that we opps, I now have to go. My time is up.. I will
write more later. So much to tell! Love to you all. Please work for Peace.
There is nothing here to bomb but people, people just like you and me who
only want to live. Love, Sand

As an aside, I'm noticing the small post count of many posters in this thread. It looks like many of us (including myself) registered specifically to post in this topic (though I personally intend to be an active poster on the forums after this thread). This issue sure is a passionate one.