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Making
things happen - with integrity. A weekly CyberMemo designed to keep you on task. Monday April 14, 2003 Volume V Number 16 |
FOCUS - Barnabas
This week, we entered into yet another one of those shared experiences as a global village. As we watched, commentators reminded us that we would be telling our children and our grandchildren that we saw it; a turning point in history. A watershed moment in the long and bloody history of the Middle East, they called it.
And it was.
I woke up early that morning knowing that our troops had entered Baghdad, and checked cable news to see what I’d missed while sleeping. The camera was trained on a giant bronze statue of the Lion of Baghdad, holding his hand skyward, palm up, in a gesture that suggests generosity, acceptance, grace, compassion. He’s in uniform, beret cocked just so, looking altogether a dictator, but a benevolent one at that. He is surrounded by a circle of pillars, in a stately Athenian marble court, at the center of urban congestion, a sort of quiet oasis in a hub of the concrete jungle, a conspicuous round-about with a high daily traffic count across from one of Baghdad’s best hotels where guests paid a premium for a room on the Palace View side of the hallway. Thanks to imbedded cameras and high profile reporters, we all got the penthouse view as hundreds of Iraqi citizens watched a couple of their own climb the base, and then thirty feet up to the top where one brave man placed a noose-like rope over the tyrant’s head and around his neck to the cheers of those watching below. Several pulled on the rope from ground level in a futile attempt to bring down the bronze. It didn’t budge.
Another showed up with a sledge hammer. Passing it back and forth, several attempted to inflict enough damage to weaken the base, and perhaps fell the great monument like a tree in the forest. Concrete chips flew with every blow of the hammer in a kind of a carnival contest, more cheers, hammer passed around, each man testing his brute strength against that of the tyrant who for so long stood in harsh rule over them, a cathartic moment for symbolic retaliation against a thug of a monarch, a would-be warrior king, a gangster president, and now the people have a chance to strike a blow for freedom, in the company of Athenian columns as the world watched.
But it was not to be.
On the sidelines, a couple of American tanks, one rigged with a crane-sized winch, operated by armed Marines, sat watching as eager Iraqis tried in vain to bring down this great tribute to the despot of Baghdad. It was erected just last year as a sixty-fifth birthday present; and it was the venue for a birthday bash last April (2002), just one year ago, where thousands of Iraqis held banners high for the sake of video cameras in support of their President. According to the People’s Daily (China), the demonstrations were designed to send a message to the world. Banners read, "Congratulations, Mr. President, it is our day," "Saddam, our choice," "Saddam, man of promise," "We will not accept any leader except Saddam Hussein."
But today, sentiments have changed. The Marines watched, knowing the thirty foot tall statue would only come down with a little assistance. So in time, they moved the tank into position. Soldiers covered front and back, left and right, aware this could well be an ambush. As they approached the base they could see it: the people’s rage at the man enshrined, towering above them, was genuine. This was no show. They decided to help.
They raised the frame to shoulder height. A Marine climbed to the top, and attached the cable of the winch around Saddam’s neck, where the rope hung to the ground. The crowd cheered again.
In a kind of exuberance only known to a Marine far away from home in the heart of Baghdad, with cameras trained on his every move from all directions, the man reached down for an American flag and draped it around the oversized head of Hussein, and then shook his fist skyward in triumph, to more cheers. He must have been thinking about that flag raised Iwo Jima style at ground zero by a crew of firemen in New York, out of the ashes of the World Trade Center. But someone whispered the obvious. This is not a triumph of America the conquering and occupying nation. It is instead, the liberation of an oppressed people. The flag came down. But too late, Arab news outlets have been running the images all over the Middle East as proof of US aggression. The Marine, standing corrected, replaced the American flag with an Iraqi one. The crowd below was hardly in tune with symbolic nuance. They cheered every move.
And when the mighty tank shifted into reverse and a gush of fuel hit the cylinders in a deafening roar as hot exhaust streamed skyward from the pipes, and the cable tightened, the giant metal icon began to bend. Observers described a loud squeal, a popping of solid steel, a buckling at the knees. Marines at the base moved the crowd back, out of harm’s way as the mighty image of a regime coming to an end came crashing down.
As the entire world watched.
I was not as surprised by the response of the city-dwellers below, who attacked the fallen bronze with their fists and their shoes and their spit; nor was I surprised at their dancing on the statuary corpse. I was surprised instead by the commentators. They were deeply moved by the people’s clear celebration.
It was as though the purpose of Operation Iraqi Freedom finally came home.
* * * * * *
The Iraqi Minister of Information disappeared.
But not until he had created an unforgettable record of misinformation.
Mohammed Saeed
al-Sahaf stood before the cameras, and with a straight face declared that the
infidels had been turned back at the borders, sent running in fear, that many
had committed suicide, and finally, the day after the US landed airplanes at
the former Saddam International Airport, proclaimed that the Airport was firmly
in Saddam’s control. The performance so laughable a web site appeared,
documenting his fabricated claims which have since been headlines in news
reports all over the Arab world. Here are some of the top quotes from Saddam’s
official spokesman:
"There are no American infidels in Baghdad. Never!"
"My feelings - as usual - we will slaughter them all"
"Our initial assessment is that they will all die"
"I blame Al-Jazeera - they are marketing for the Americans!"
"God will roast their stomachs in hell at the hands of Iraqis."
"We have destroyed 2 tanks, fighter planes, 2 helicopters and their shovels - We have driven them back."
"They're coming to surrender or be burned in their tanks."
"No I am not scared and neither should you be!"
http://www.welovetheiraqiinformationminister.com/
When I was an undergraduate, I read Orwell’s classic 1984 in which Big Brother re-writes history and controls information so that individuals conform to the needs of the State. I’ve always thought it sophomoric for some to suggest that our society and culture are somehow Orwellian; certainly there are mindless folks who swallow everything they see and hear and read as gospel. But ours is hardly the closed society we are learning about in Iraq.
We’ve grown accustomed to the free press. The tough question. The exposé. We expect it. We even become annoyed by the endless point-counterpoint. But imagine the world of Saddam Hussein. And his “information minister.”
No wonder these people are confused.
* * * * * * *
I think it may have something to do with grand-fatherhood. Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about getting a puppy. A grandpa’s gotta have a good dog.
Ever since our Pastor preached one Sunday morning about Barnabas, Paul’s traveling companion, I’ve been planning it. Barnabas was also known as the “son of encouragement” (that’s what his name means), and Bill spoke with conviction about how good it is to have a Barnabas around. A Barnabas is the kind of person who notices the good things. He doesn’t drop anchor on the bad. He’s affirming. He cares. He believes in you. He’s got empathy – not just sympathy. He’s tuned in; and high-fives you when you’re up and listens attentively when you are down.
Bill suggested the dog a person chooses says a lot about his own personality and values. That Sunday morning he predicted that Barnabas would probably own a Golden Retriever, and then went on to describe the breed. Goldies are affectionate, loyal dogs, Bill said, who just like to be around. They enjoy your company, and bring out the best in you. Like Barnabas.
That was the morning I leaned over to Carolyn and said, “The next dog we’re gettin’ will be a Goldie, and we’re gunna name him Barnabas.”
I’ve been looking for one for a couple of months now, and yesterday, we found him. We met his mom and his dad. I liked them immediately. So did Carolyn. Beautiful dogs. Bright eyes. Alert. Eager to play. They look at you as though they are listening, reflecting your emotion back at you. They seemed to be everything Bill predicted. We brought him home on a breezy, sunny afternoon, and introduced him around the neighborhood.
He’s just a pup, and he’s learning his new name.
Barnabas.
Barney.
I think our grandson is gunna like him.
I know I do.
* * * * * * *
It’s Monday morning. You are a leader.
Like me, you are tuned in to the news of war. You are celebrating the remarkable achievements of our brave men and women. Your heart aches for those who have fallen. You are filled with anxiety over how the Iraqis will embrace their new-found freedom. You chuckle over the comedic performance of Hussein’s stooges, but there’s a sadness in the whole pathetic mess. There is the fear of more violence. The concern over proliferating terror. You long for peace. You hope for prosperity.
It’s a time for leadership. Thus far, we’ve seen a lot.
It’s up to us... to take on the mantel of leadership. To be strong. To encourage. To affirm. To trust.
I’m going to take some lessons from Barney.
Carolyn held back in her enthusiasms, mainly because after all these years, she harbored some serious doubts about my willingness to take up the everyday responsibilities of an ever-present pet; simple things like walks, and feedings and clean-up and maintenance and trips to the Vet. I promised, and still she displayed a slight evidence of doubt… in fact; she will be watching, and measuring, and remembering my pledge of commitment and attentiveness. But I think I’m ready.
And now that Barney’s home, she loves him, too.
When we go for walks, I’m going to think about how much Paul appreciated it when his friend Barnabas was there, coming alongside, talking about the things that mattered most.
Posted in Valley Center, California
© Copyright Kenneth E. Kemp 2003
Special Thanks to my good friend David Belcher, owner of Rhino Media Group and creator of WisdomGram
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