The Iraqis are voting for their future, here in San Diego. We have 1 of the 7 polling sites for them in the US. A slightly run down middle eastern restaurant that advertises with a plastic banner over stucco: "Hall for Rent" was closed for eating and would be their voting site for the next 3 days.The restaurant's huge corner parking lot with half a dozen driveways, was crisscrossed with long lines of yellow police tape. Only one driveway marked "In" and another marked "Out" was available. More yellow tape made empty rectangles around the sides and front of the building. Police stood guard at the driveways and orange traffic cones prevented one lane of cars in the street, of using the lane closest to the restaurant. A policeman stood guard out there too.
I pulled into the parking lot, parked and watched. I saw one of our local TV news vans being unloaded while I saw a not large but steady stream of middle easterners excitedly greet each other both in the parking lot and at the restaurant's doors.It felt like a wedding was happening - most of the women wore long silky skirts that touched the asphalt, with long sleeved blouses or jackets and head scarves, some that flowed over their shoulders half down their backs. Children ran around chasing each other, all dressed in Sunday school best. Most of the men wore dark suits, some with turbans.
I was being watched very carefully and then my Jeep got sniffed! I watched as the handler would indicate side and back vehicle doors for the dog. The dog was totally concentrated on business, very seriously double and triple sniffing every vehicle in the lot . . . until she walked near a strip of bushes. In a flash she became such an ordinary house dog - tugging hard at her leash trying anxiously to sniff another branch that might have been marked by a dog.I rolled down my window and talked with the handler. He said she trained for 3 months and added that she's not at all like your "lazy house dog!" He said, " . . .she works really hard, you know!" and seemed very proud of her.
A policeman finally walked up to me when it was apparent I wasn't there to vote. He demanded to know what I was doing and couldn't answer when I asked if it was ok I took some photos. He replied after me, "Well, I don't think they'll mind" as I walked out of the parking lot to talk with a lone man picketing - or so I thought. He carried a large placard on a long stick, mostly in Arabic(?), that said in brief English - "Vote For #740"
He wore a t-shirt with a large American flag on it and more Arabic(?) printing below. He slowly ran this index finger over the bright flag on his chest and with halting words almost crying, said he was so grateful to America to give his people a chance to vote - "Our first chance ever!", he exclaimed. He told me he was from a small Christian village in a remote part of Iraq who eagerly awaited to vote last January but the Sunni's sabotaged all their efforts and the ballots were never delivered to his village. He explained voting for #740 would put a contingent of Christians in office.
He started to tell me of the history of his Christian village and how they were the rightful owners of the historic land, when an angry policeman walked up and roughly demanded he stay 200 ft away from everything! I walked off as he tried to explain the permission he was previously granted . . .
