A dish of hospitality

September 18, 2004

I’m hopped up on Chai tea.

Chai tea is at the center of Iraqi business and social events. The sticky-sweet, stout brew is handed out at casual gatherings and business meetings alike in little glasses on saucers with what resembles a baby spoon balanced on the edge.

I was sitting in Sheik Mohan al-Faiadh’s house in Rashdiyah this morning when a platter of steaming Chai glasses was passed around. I took a glass and began stirring up the crystallized sugar that rested at the bottom.

The stale air in the room filled with the clinking sound of tiny metal spoons on glass and the pungent smell of tea.

First, let me say that I am not a fan of Chai.

Well, actually, Chai doesn’t like me.

If not prepared properly, Chai can wage war on the American digestive system. It’s a very rich tea that is powerfully sweet.

The richness alone can challenge a person’s digestive tract. But, if it’s not brewed at a high enough temperature, then the local Iraqi water will get you.

This may be indelicate, but I call it the Baghdad blast.

This time, Sheik Mohan’s Chai was practically on fire.

I burned the thumb and forefinger I had used to pick up the glass.

And I smiled.

The fiery glass meant that this Chai won’t hurt me. All I had to worry about was the goat, crunchy cake and assortment of breaded foods I ate.

At times like this, only time will tell whether you’ll get sick or not.

So far, so good.

We were at the sheik’s house to discuss a plan to clear brush from the banks of the Tigris. Chief Warrant Officer Dave Waterfield of Ohio wanted to discuss the plan with Sheik Mohan, so the farmers of his tribe would better understand the project.

Arkansas Democrat-Gazette/STEPHEN B. THORNTON Sheik Mohan al-Faiadh negotiates with Chief Warrant Officer David Waterfield through an interpreter (center) at the sheik's home Sept. 18.

As a civil affairs soldier, Waterfield works with local leaders to smooth relationships between the military and local citizens while improving infrastructure like water, sewer and schools.

The clearing project is a little different: It’s about soldier safety.

Insurgents have been firing from the Tigris’ banks, using the foliage as cover. The plants needed to go and Sheik Mohan was the first step.

There is no such thing as a short business meeting here, however.

The discussion began with the weather.

“I enjoy the Iraqi weather, especially in this area,” Waterfield said.

“At this time, it’s very beautiful. California weather,” Sheik Mohan said.

Then it moved to farming. Sheik Mohan talked about Iraq’s beloved dates as a rooster crowed in his yard. There are 400 different varieties of dates, he told Waterfield.

Then he made a pitch for a lab to test soil and pesticides that would enhance the date crop. Waterfield said he’d see what he could do to help.

As they spoke, Sheik Mohan’s man Friday quietly draped a cloth on a table at the far end of the room and began to cover it with plates of food.

“Come, have breakfast,” the sheik said to us.

It is inexcusably rude to turn down an offering of food in Iraq. I could feel my stomach cringe as I put my right hand over my heart in a traditional gesture of gratitude and said “Shukran.” That’s “Thank you.”

The sheik smiled and waved his arm toward the smorgasbord.

I picked up a china plate decorated with pink flowers and a gold rim and started moving down the table. Sheik Mohan stopped me, pointing to the pile of forks.

Iraqis eat with their fingers and few of them have traditional western silverware, so the forks were a treat. I’m not sure how clean they were, but it was still nice to have them.

I circled the table, bypassing the sausage-looking rolls of meat, opting for cheesy bread, tomatoes, olives and some sort of pita sandwich instead.

As I walked away from the table, Sheik Mohan waved me back. “Try the kabob,” he said. “It’s very good.”

It may be good, I thought, but it’s goat.

I like goats, they’re cute. I’ve made it six months in Iraq without eating a goat ... until today.

I put a kabob on my plate and the sheik added two more.

Man, that’s a lot of goat.

As I walked back to my seat on the couch, where I had been taking notes using my helmet, which I had set on the seat next to me as a little desk. I looked at my cargo pockets and briefly wondered if I could sneak the meat into a pocket instead of my mouth.

But the sheik was in front of me, watching me eat. And his eldest son sat diligently at the sheik’s right side, in plain view.

I looked around the room and saw Spc. Mark Brady of Searcy diving into his plate of food. Waterfield was picking at his plate and Stephen Thornton, our photographer, was fearlessly chowing down.

“And I thought I missed breakfast,” Brady said, scarfing down his plate.

I ate everything, saving the goat for last. It all tasted good until then.

For the record, goat is tough, stringy and somewhat gamy.

Arkansas Democrat-Gazette/STEPHEN B. THORNTON Sheik Mohan al-Faiadh bids Chief Warrant Officer David Waterfield farewell after their negotiations.

And just as I finished that, the crunchy cake was passed around.

It looked like normal chocolate cake with pink flowers fashioned out of icing.

I was full, but that didn’t matter.

I was having cake. The sheik made that clear.

And within the cake were nuts, dates, banana slices and other crunchy unidentifiable things. It wasn’t bad, just different. Everyone ate artfully around the larger objects.

And, of course, we had Chai.

As the Chai flowed, the discussion of Tigris vegetation took place. By the time the coffee pot came by — which I turned down for fear that I had already exceeded my liver’s capacity for caffeine with the Chai — a deal was made.

If a farmer lost a date tree in the clearing of water vegetation, he would be paid for the loss.

And it only took two hours and several courses of food to achieve.

Lord help my stomach.

Posted by Amy at September 18, 2004 12:28 PM