Chris Collins
Will Barack Obama's first visit to the Central Valley as president be a tour of Mendota?
That's what the westside farming town is hoping. In a letter sent to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Mayor Robert Silva thanks Obama for his support of a federal prison that is being built near Mendota, but also calls his attention to the desperate need for water in the westside, where the agricultural industry has been brought to its knees.
Mendota, which is almost entirely dependent on farming, is struggling with a 41% unemployment rate.
"Our main economic sector, the agricultural industry, is basically non-existent due to the severe reduction to water allocations to local farmers," the letter reads.
Silva also notes, "Recently, private businesses have received billions of dollars in emergency relief funds, however, cities like Mendota that provide agricultural products to the rest of the country are on the verge of extinction. ... We are facing what may be our last hope. It is our firm belief that seeing first-hand the challenges and opportunities facing the city will lead to a strong partnership between the government and our region. Mr. President, a personal visit from you will bring much needed attention to the need for water for farms which will lead to jobs for our community."
Councilwoman Cynthia Sterling stole my idea -- or at least she stole it from a developer.
I live between Olive Avenue and Belmont Avenue northwest of downtown Fresno, which I've always considered to be the South Tower District. About six weeks ago, some friends and I decided that the neighborhood should be called The SoTow, just because it sounded cool. And because we live in California.
I even updated my status on Facebook to say that I was now living in "the SoTow." The post elicited 35 comments -- more of a back-and-forth conversation, really -- discussing the merits of the new name.
Then in today's Bee, Sanford Nax reported that Sterling has dubbed the neighborhood south of the Tower District ... The SoTow. She said it represents the area between downtown and the Tower District.
It turns out she snagged the name from TFS Investments, a company that is remodeling a 40-unit apartment complex on Fulton Street it will call Fultonia. In one of its brochures, TFS Investments says the Tower District has traditionally been known as the neighborhood north of Olive Avenue. SOTOW, it says, means South of Tower and represents everything south of Olive Avenue. That definition of SoTow differs slightly from mine.
"By designating this area as SOTOW, starting with The Fultonia project, the area can experience resurgence in home ownership and improvements to the overall area by drawing people who want to live and/or work in the neighborhood," the brochure says.
I'm OK with letting Sterling or TFS Investments take the credit for the name, even if we don't agree on the exact boundaries of The SoTow or what it stands for. One thing is for sure, though, in true California form, my neighborhood has a trendy new name.
In less than 24 hours I'll be heading out of Baghdad, leaving behind a country still in tatters, but taking with me a much better understanding of Iraq and its people. I'm glad I came. It's been an awesome experience and not one I will forget. For the first few weeks I was counting down the days until I could go home, but now I'm disappointed that I'll be leaving tomorrow. I think I'll miss the people I've gotten to know more than anything else. And I'll also miss the soothing sounds of gunfire, mortars and Blackhawk helicopters outside my sliding glass door.
I got my exit visa today. Thanks to our office managers resourcefulness (a $230 bribe), I didn't have to get a required AIDS test. I'm packing my stuff right now and tonight we'll have a "post-assessment" party that will double as a going-away party. The assessment, of course, is Gen. Petraeus and Ryan Crocker's testimony, which has driven every bureau chief in Iraq crazy over the last few weeks, including mine. So now we're celebrating.
Continue reading "On my way out" »
A month ago, I had never been on a helicopter, much less a Chinook ferrying a couple dozen U.S. soldiers on their way to raid an insurgent neighborhood. Last week, I got to do it all over again -- except this time most of the soldiers squeezed onto the Chinook with me spoke a foreign language and were relatively new to their job as privates in the Iraqi Army. Cool, I thought as we flew a couple hundred feet above the city of Mahmudiyah 20 miles south of Baghdad in the middle of the night, I was getting tired of normal air assaults -- this is a nice twist. During the flight, the jundi next to me, as the Iraqi soldiers are called, kept trying to tell me something. But between my inability to speak Arabic and the roar of the engine, I couldn't make out what he was saying, so I just nodded and smiled. Now I wonder just what it was he yelling. Perhaps: "WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE! AHH!"
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(Photo: I took this picture during my embed last week as Iraqi and U.S. soldiers conducted an early-morning air assault raid on an impoverished neighborhood 20 miles south of Baghdad. As we passed by this house, a boy walked out of the gate and smiled at me. He was eager to have his photo taken, so I snapped one. I walked down the road a bit and then turned around. I saw his two sisters (or perhaps cousins) -- one with curly hair wincing at the morning sun, and the other peering over the wall. They didn't seem worried at all that dozens of uniformed men with assault rifles were walking past their home. I snapped another shot and kept walking. Later I realized how glad I was that I took the picture -- I think it captures in color what I will always remember of Iraq in my mind).
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Continue reading "Just another air assault, plus Iraqi soldiers" »
The military commanders in Mahmudiyah, one of the handful of cities that make up the infamous "triangle of death" south of Baghdad, say the region doesn't deserve its name anymore. In fact, I just got back from a three-day embed in which US and Iraqi troops went on an air assault mission honing in on Shiite militants -- not the Sunni extremists that gave the region its name. Sunni troublemakers still exist, however, and the violence is far from over, though perhaps subdued.
I'm pretty tired, but glad I went. After my first embed, I knew I wanted to do at least one more embed before leaving, and this one was worth it. The soldiers even put me up in the colonel's quarters, since he was gone. No cot-in-a-tent sleeping for me. I'll blog more about it soon. For now, I'm happy to report that I picked up a six-pack of Easy Mac from the Green Zone PX earlier this week, and broke it in tonight. It had been over a month since I had eaten macaronni and cheese, something few people who know me thought was possible.
Story update: My embed story is here. And more news on Karbala and the Mahdi Army here.
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I never met Anwar. The first time I ever heard of him was when I learned he was dead.
An Iraqi journalist and translator for CBS News, Anwar Abbas Lafta was proud of his job. So proud, that he didn't make it a secret. Leila, the half-Lebanese bureau chief here, told me how she once walked through Anwar's neighborhood with him, being careful to only speak in Arabic less people think she is American. Anwar joked that she was too cautious -- "this is the safest part of town," he told her. She writes of Anwar:
Continue reading "Anwar" »
When I first visited the Rasheed Hotel in a heavily-guarded area adjacent to the Green Zone, I was surprised to see that the hotel lobby was relatively well-kept - a stark contrast to everything else here. I went outside into what could only be considered as the hotel's backyard/courtyard. It included a swimming pool, a large grassy area, tennis courts, a helicopter landing pad that also doubled as trash pit, and a VIP lounge that seemed to be shut down.
And a romantic garden.
Hmm, I thought. Hmmm...
What exactly does an Iraqi romantic garden look like? I had to find out.
Continue reading "My travels to the romantic garden" »
Story uppdate: Craziness in Karbala and Iranians arrested.
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... seems to be a dangerous game in Iraq. But when I heard the news this afternoon, I couldn't help it: Muqtada al Sadr, the radical anti-American cleric who has (very) loose control over the infamous Mahdi Army, issued a statement today that said he would suspend his militant group for six months in an attempt to reign in and reorganize the force. If Sadr still has the influence to put a temporary halt to the Madhi Army's activities, it would be a huge victory for American troops and peace-seeking Iraqis. In the last few months, U.S. officials have blamed the Mahdi Army for the majority of violence plaguing the country.
But for Sadr, it's unclear if his drastic measure is too late.
Continue reading "Flirting with optimism..." »
Story update: Wrote one about more of Maliki's fighting words. Read it here.
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DOGS: The People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals would not be happy. The stray dogs here roam Baghdad and the Green Zone like sewer rats. They're skinny, filthy, and always look a little lost. I'd probably try to take some of them in, care for them, give them a bath and feed them some doggie biscuits, but it would really hurt my image as a WAR reporter, which I'm desperately trying to fabricate.
BEER SHED: Hidden away in a dusty corner of the Green Zone is a small, non-descript trailer with nothing but piles and piles of beer inside. It's the Green Zone Beer Shed, or at least that's what I call it. Beer cases are literally stacked six feet high with nothing but a narrow two-foot isle to walk down. There is a small desk on one end of the trailer where some guys take your money. When I went there, one was Iraqi and the other looked Irish. I started talking to the Irish guy, but was surprised when he replied with a thick Iraqi accent. Weird, I thought. Later, I asked a friend about the guy, and I was told that southern Iraqis can be very pale-skinned and even red-haired. Crazy. I look more Iraqi that that guy did, I thought.
Continue reading "Just another random blog about stray dogs, curfews, and the Green Zone beer shed" »
Story update: I wrote an article published yesterday that didn't get much attention from other media, possibly because it was based on sources our stringer up north tapped that other media stringers may not have been able to reach. It's about Iranian soldiers storming northeastern Iraqi villages -- part of a clash between ethnic Kurds and neighboring countries, but with much larger implications if it escalates. Read it here.
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Every once in a while I'll be riding in the car traveling from the hotel to the Green Zone or somewhere else and I'll see a plume of smoke rising out of some neighborhood. It's hard to tell whether it's one of the many non-EPA-approved factories with high-rising smokestacks pumping out fumes, or a fire pit, or a mortar attack, or a car bomb, or something else.
When I looked out my balcony yesterday, I was pretty sure that the billowing smoke I saw rising in the distance was ... something else. Turns out I was right: Insurgents had bombed an oil pipeline. And the picture doesn't really do justice to show just what a huge pile of smoke that was.
Continue reading "That's no mortar attack" »
Update: I wrote another story published today. Check it out here. Also, the bureau chief, Leila, has put together some well-written features worth reading. One on the four truck bombings last week that killed 500 people (read it here), and another on how sectarianism has torn couples apart from each other (read it here).
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I haven't done a good job responding to some of the solid questions thrown out in this blog's comments section. So I'm making up for that now... right after I wipe my greasy fingers clean of another round of Iraqi pizza leftovers. Mmmmm...
Rodger, you're right. If I was smart I would probably carry a weapon during these missions. But I'm not that bright, as it turns out, and also the Rules of Media Engagement here prohibit us note-takers from taking guns or other weapons. So instead, I just trust the guy with the gun next to me to guard me with his life. Which I'm sure he will.
Continue reading "My poor Spanish, my thoughts on journalism in Iraq, and why I don't carry a gun" »
Update: I'd hate to be a provincial governor in southern Iraq. Here's why.
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When Edmund, Lucy and the rest of the crew stumbled out of the magic wardrobe after a decade in Narnia, only seconds had gone by in the real world. It was the Narnia effect. For whatever reason, the same thing happens here, too.
Everyone I talk to who has spent any significant amount of time in Iraq says they feel much older than what their birth certificate would indicate. The bureau chief, Leila, is 26, technically. But we've joked around about how one year in Iraq counts as five years in real life... so she's really pushing her mid-30s.
Continue reading "The Narnia effect" »
When I cover court stories in Fresno, I try to keep readers (and myself) engaged in the story by adding some color to the lede of the story. But I don't really try that here -- mostly because it's usually very hard, if not impossible, to get the details of any of the violent events that occur here each day. But thankfully, I got the chance to have a little fun with a story about the Iraq Stock Exchange openning up to foreign investors, which, by the way, reminds me that if you are looking for any high-risk/high-yield investment opportunities, I know just the place.
Check out the story here. Also, read a story published today about Iranians in Iraq here.
It was close to midnight when the massive double-propeller Chinooks came burrowing down onto the landing zone at Command Outpost Cleary, a small military outfit about 20 miles southeast of Baghdad. Until a day ago, I had never been on a helicopter before in my life, but that all changed when I flew over Iraq's capital in a Blackhawk. Though I didn't know it at the time, a two-star general was with us on the flight, so he bent the rules and ordered the doors shut open, leaving nothing but about 100 feet of sweltering hot summer air between me and the hundreds of square, flat-roofed houses that go on for block after block after block.
Now it was the Chinooks. They're much larger than Blackhawks. And when they land, it's as if a tornado has sprung up from under your feet. Everyone turned their back to the helicopters and squeezed their eyes shut as dirt and debris swirled around. Over the roar of the bird's engine, the sergeants yelled "Go! Go! Go!". Twenty-six of us jogged single-file up the ramps. But no one told me about the deathly-furnace-like blast of hot air that hits you the minute you're behind the helicopter. I just put my head down and followed the guy in front of me. Then I took my seat on the benches that line either side of the Chinook. We were sardines and the helicopter was the can.
Continue reading "My night on an Army raid" »
Update: I wrote a story yesterday about charges being brought against Saddam's daughter. Thanks to one of our Iraqi journalist's alertness, I think we were one of the few Western news agency to get the story. Read it here. I also had another story published a few days ago. Read that one here.
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I'm still in Baghdad, but that was my first thought after getting off the Blackhawk in the Green Zone's landing zone this afternoon. I've been gone on a three-day embed with the 3rd brigade, 3rd division from Georgia. It was full of craziness, but craziness is always a great experience. I was up until 6 a.m. on a mission last night/this morning. I slept until 1 p.m. and now it's 1:30 a.m. here. I should probably sleep.
Besides my trip from the airport to the hotel on my first day here, the only other times I've traveled outside the hotel compound have been for the short trip to the Green Zone. That changed today when I visited the Baghdad Stock Exchange
The stock exchange is in an affluent part of Baghdad that would pass as squalor in most parts of America... though there were a few fancy-looking houses here and there (they apparently go for $250,000 or so). Instead of suiting up in a flak jacket and taking the armored car, I went without the body armor and took a "soft skin" car -- a normal car that isn't armored. The whole idea was to blend in with society and avoid suspicion.
Continue reading "Baghdad bustling with life" »
Update: I forgot to mention that I had a story published yesterday. Read it here.
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My day was random, so so is this blog.
At some point in the 1980s, Saddam Hussein drank from a small glass cup. Other than its golden rim, it wasn't that fancy. But for a dictator on a budget, I guess it worked. I know this only because I held that cup in my hands today while visiting the office of a top advisor to Prime Minister Nouri al Maliki. It was displayed on a shelf and the advisor, Basam Husseini, apparently shows it off to every new person who visits his office. "Don't break it," he told me. "It's worth a lot of money."
Continue reading "Saddam's golden-rimmed cup" »
Iraqi Prime Minister Nuri al Maliki held a rare press conference today in his home, which used to be one of Saddam Hussein's 50 or so palaces. It was fancy and plush -- a stark contrast to the broken down and barren Iraq that I see every day. There were massive chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, vines crawling up the walls, and rows of huge armchairs for media members to sit in.
I was the only Western reporter there, which I thought was weird. Besides feeling out of place (a feeling I've gotten used to), I also wondered where everyone else was. There were plenty of Iraqi reporters, but I wondered why Western media weren't there to ask Iraq's most powerful (official) political figure a few questions, especially in light of the building controversy over Iran. I thought that some of the Iraqi journalists may have been sent by Western news agencies, but none of them asked questions that indicated they were. The press conference was broadcasted on Iraqi TV this afternoon, so I wouldn't be surprised if Maliki's comments make the wires... but it's unfortunate there weren't any other Western reporters to ask questions.
Continue reading "The fanciest press conference chairs I've ever sat on are in Maliki's home" »
I've been put in charge as the interim bureau chief while Leila, the real bureau chief, is off on various assignments today and tomorrow. I hope nothing crazy happens. But in Baghdad, that's unlikely.
Everything about this job is weird. First of all, there's no real distinction between being on the job and off the job. Working hours sort of all blend in with the rest of the day's activities partly because of the nature of the job and partly because of the fact that we live in the same place we work.... which, for me, is not a good thing. If I think there's work to do, then my mind is always thinking about what's next and what needs to be done.
Continue reading "They gave me the key and put me in charge" »
Update: Wrote my second story today. Read it here.
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I'm not a war reporter. Six weeks in Baghdad doesn't qualify me.
But I've met a few reporters who have been here since the "beginning" -- 2003. It's surprising how many have stuck it out for more than four years. Four-plus years of traveling halfway around the world every couple of months, four years of enduring scorching weather, four years of living in a massive city essentially under military rule, four years of learning a foreign culture and language, four years of wearing a flak jacket, four years of drinking bottled water, four years of hoping you won't die. Four years of disposing your trash in very small receptacles.
I couldn't do that. That's not me. I'm enjoying my adventures here, but I'm already counting down the days until I get home.
Continue reading "War reporters: A friendly bunch" »
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