From Jake in New Jersey, the Next Thing :: 09. 1.08
Cy and I met in Jurmala, Latvia as part of Peace Corps Lithuania Group #9. He was the only guy who arrived in Eastern Europe without a jacket and I, perhaps, was the only one with an extra. He was also one of the only twenty-somethings whose hairline was receding like mine. This would become on ongoing joke (and concern) as two icy winters in Lithuania would see an island form at the top of our foreheads. Over those two years he and I were lent the experience of teaching youths, discovering bitter truths about history and politics and surviving in a foreign place (a cold and dark one at that). At times it seemed like we were stranded on those islands between the stubborn follicles whose days were numbered. Others we danced our last joyous days of youth and freedom obsessed with the idea of taking home a Lithuanian wife. (Neither of us did). Nonetheless, a rare bond between two passionate men was forged as the future waited to see what we had to offer.
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From Cy In Baghdad, the Next Thing ::
Hey everybody, I don't want to waste too many words here, so I'll just get to it: My friend Jake and I are starting a non-profit. I've known this guy for eight years now. In 2000, he was a carpenter in New Jersey. I was a lifeguard in San Diego. We both joined the Peace Corps and were sent to Lithuania. He looked at me funny cause the girl he was dating was my language teacher. I looked back with my patented pokerface. A week later we were cracking jokes and talking about women. Eight years later, he's one of my best friends and for eight years we've both been on a mission to do something meaningful with our lives and talents.
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Drinking the Tigris: Old Glory II :: 09. 9.08
I posted on this back in May (see archive). Here's the latest from JR's Hughto's notes:
Last week I had the LAPD's Major Crimes Division: Anti-Terrorism Intelligence Section follow up with me about this. They stopped by and slipped a card under my door with a note saying "Please call [them] regarding an investigation." After I called, I found out I was the target of the investigation. They wanted to see my negatives, and while they agreed that nothing I had done was illegal, they did insist on coming over to my place before work to speak with me.
So, two agents came by and interviewed me for half an hour. They looked around my place, and I showed them the contact sheet - a roll with 4 pictures of the refinery, the others of innocuous things like my girlfriend and koreatown graf. After running out of nice ways to find out who I was, the agent filling out the forms asked, simply, "So, are you a Muslim?" I laughed out of shock and discomfort, and replied, "No."
They then stood, shook my hand, assured me again that I had done nothing illegal, and left. All told, they probably wasted a day and a half between the two of them on my case, when one well phrased google search could have led them here.
Drinking the Tigris: Couple Construction Shots ::
A Day's Pay for Obama!!! :: 09.11.08
Hello everybody!Cy here, and I'm really worried. Seven years of George Bush and 15 months in Iraq is more than enough to teach me that I, we, must get involved in our politics and that we really do need CHANGE.
I've decided to contribute all the pay I earn from today, Sept 11th, to Obama's campaign and put my money where my mouth is. The Republicans have been using this day for seven years to keep us off balance and fearful. I want to reverse that and put my day, and my days pay behind something that I believe in. Please join me and make a contribution. Whether its one hours pay or a days pay. We have an extraordinary opportunity before us; lets do everything we can to make it happen! WE MUST WIN THIS ELECTION.
Please follow the link below or go to my.barackobama.com!
http://my.barackobama.com/page/outreach/view/main/OneDaysPay
All the best,
Cy Kuckenbaker
A Day's Pay for Obama!!! Day 2 :: 09.12.08
Hey Everybody!
We raised $525.00 in 24 hours! That's great. For those who contributed thank you so much. For those who haven't, remember even 5 dollars makes a big difference!
I had the opportunity today to talk with a high level State Dept official who just returned to Iraq from D.C. He had a meeting with Joe Biden, who he says is a great guy. More importantly, he says the buzz behind the scenes in DC is that everyone is scared to death the election is going to be REALLY tight and end in gridlock again. It's going to be close! Get involved while you still can. If you’re broke, no worries. Get out and talk to your friends and family, get registered and VOTE. And, if you've got a five to spare, don't be shy!
All the best from Baghdad,
Cy Kuckenbakercontribute here!
http://my.barackobama.com/page/outreach/view/main/OneDaysPay
A Day's Pay for Obama!!! Day 3 :: 09.13.08
Wow!
Hey everybody, the ONE DAYS PAY group raised $1075.00 during the last 48 hours! I think this is a real testament to how strongly people feel about the coming election. If you already made a contribution, I'd like to thank you again. If you haven't, don’t forget, even a modest contributions of $5.00 really counts! In fact, it's those small donations that have made the difference for Obama this year. If you're strapped for cash, then of coarse, save your money for those things you need to get by. But don't forget that you have lots of people around you who may be indifferent, disillusioned or disappointed with politics. Your words are worth just as much as your dollars. Let them know how you feel, let them know its important, talk about it and let's make sure our less motivated friends and family get out to vote! For Obama!
All the best from Baghdad,
Cy Kuckenbaker
You can make a contribution here!:http://my.barackobama.com/page/outreach/view/main/OneDaysPay
Drinking the Tigris: Sandstorm :: 09.15.08
These are shots from May 08.
Sandstorms here aren't like the ones in movies. The wind doesn't pick the desert floor up to snap it out like a bull whip. It's more like a surprise sneeze. A gust and a squint of the eyes. A diffused red wall rolls in like fog. Then the wait. How long it will take for the billions and trillions of tiny particles, finer than talcum, to find a gentle landing? Last year they only lasted a day. This year, because of the drought in Iraq, they last for days. It sticks to the TV. It fills nostrils and sinus cavities. It fills the windshield wipers. It fills the carpet, and turns the floor of the shower red. It lies across the bed waiting, suppressing its sly joy before it crawls up on your tired face and covers your skin. Finally, it creeps into your consciousness where it smoothers your patience and dries up your imagination. It's in everything. It's everywhere. It creeps and curls and corkscrews and connives its way into every crack and seam in life. It turns the world red.
Drinking the Tigris: Red Monday ::
Oh man. The stock market is in trouble. The sand is back here in Baghdad. It's terrible. The shot above is today. I thought it was over. Bummer of a Monday.
Drinking the Tigris: Body Armor :: 09.22.08
When new people arrive here in Baghdad, one of first things they do is get a set of body armor. It's heavy, 20-25 pounds, and uncomfortable. The vest holds two large metal plates that cover the vital organs. When our personnel are outbound for R&R the first question they usually ask is, "Can I drop my gear?" We label it with tape and store it for them while they're gone. It's like checking a pair of bowling shoes. When they get back they're always in a hurry to get it back. "Can I get my gear? I've got a helo in 15 minutes!" Everyone loves the helicopters. Gotta have gear on to fly in them though.
Malawi Dispatch: Words from Jake Post #1 :: 09.25.08
Everywhere I turn it seems somebody has some sort of immediate problem. With Tuff Gong, my friend who picked me up at the airport, it is fuel injectors. I exit the airport with trepidation after failing to see him nor Chatwa in the waiting area. I quickly begin negotiating with a cab driver to use his cell phone in exchange for the 70 kwacha I had left in my pocket when I left Malawi in June of last year. As the driver begins dialing I feel Tuff Gong on the edge of my periphery. His real name is Suzgo, which means trouble in Chitumbuka. Apparently, there were some problems before, after or during his birth, which resulted in one of his relatives giving him the name, an eternal reminder. Of course he was glad to see me but his face showed an immediate concern. After exchanging greetings with Chatwa, my friend from the village, Gong begins to explain about the truck's 'pulling' problem. In Malawian English 'Pulling' is what we deem as acceleration. He also explains some of the truck's nuances for when I drive it, which I knew would be within the hour based on Gong's thirst for Carlsberg Green. It had only been an 8 hour hop to Amsterdam, 12 hours inside its maze of streets, alleys and canals, another 8 hour hop to Nairobi, a 5 hour delay before a 2 hour skip to Lilongwe. I guess I had still had enough gas in the tanks for a 5 hour drive to Mzuzu in a truck I've never driven through crowded trading posts and police road blocks all the while passing or being passed by tractor trailers, lorries, bicycles, pedestrians, peddlers, goats, cows and chickens. The 'pulling' problem never allowed me to take the accelerator off the floor. We twist and turn through the Viphya Plateau, flash our lights at trucks in Chikangawa Forest and stop only to relieve Gong and his mechanic friend's swollen bladders. By the time we reach Mzuzu I am ready for a well-deserved rest. So after some spaghetti and meat sauce made especially for me we retire to Gong's single bed where he and I share pillows, blankets and visions of tomorrow.Continue reading "Malawi Dispatch: Words from Jake Post #1" »
Malawi Dispatch: Words from Jake Post #2 :: 09.26.08
This is post #2 from Jake in Malawi. The photos are from 18 months ago:
The road had been recently graded so Tuff Gong drives with more speed than I consider necessary. We cross foot paths that line rows of banana and pass village shops whose shadows host groups of men playing checker games listening to fuzzy radio broadcasts. The truck goes up and down with the hills slowing on the steeper slopes. Where the road forks is where we bear left beginning our descent through Mpora into the Hewe Valley. September starts the worst of Malawi's dry season, as the temperature rises so do the winds that swirl hot air and sand through the thirsty landscape. I am thirsty already as we begin to pass villages with names I could still recall, Kaduku, Ching'anya, Gayo, Chirufia and finally Chatumbwa, the very heart of Zolokere.
The truck manages the last left hand turn then the engine expires 100 yards before my old brick and tin house. The village somehow looks naked but I can't seem to grasp how or why. By this point we have spectators and I can hear echoes of my name in the distance. After 120 km of pulling the truck decided to faint just before the finish line. With the starter cranking, clutch open and engine choking we sputter the final distance to a spot between the two houses, park and I prepare myself for all things Tumbuka. Isaac shakes my hand but Edward gives me a hug. The same goes for Mlawa and Jacklyn, the first offers a hand the second a body. The children look at me with astonishment and I can feel them sizing me up. A few note I am fatter (really only 5 lbs.) and many note I am whiter, like a real Mzungu (white person). As the bags are offloaded the Sub-Chief reaches the house to welcome me. He also starts by saying I look whiter. I think, perhaps I am in more ways than one. We then exchange greetings, he says that if I am back already it must mean I really love the people. I suppose I do. Now that I have returned I am about to see how much they really love me.
Continue reading "Malawi Dispatch: Words from Jake Post #2" »
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