Photo By Lance Cpl. Cindy Alejandrez | A Lioness supporting India Battery, 3rd Battalion, 11th Marines 1st Marine Division by...... read more read more
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By Lance Cpl. Cindy G. Alejandrez
1st Marine Logistics Group
RUTBAH, Iraq – Marines have the strangest looking tan lines. Nearing the end of our time as Lionesses searching women at the traffic control point, in Rutbah, Iraq, I gained my own awesome, deep, dark-brown, tan on only half of my face. The other half never saw the sunlight because of my helmet and sunglasses.
Coincidently, during our last week supporting India Battery, 3rd Battalion, 11th Marine Regiment, 1st Marine Division by inspecting the women for suicide vests and contraband, the weather worsened. Mornings would start hot as usual and in the afternoon, sand storms would blow in.
Sweat and dust would mix to form grime on my hair line, in my ears and where my sunglasses met my face. My hair took the worst beating, accumulating half the sand in Rutbah. With my flak jacket and helmet on, I looked like a dirty "Ninja Turtle."
Despite all of that, we were actually glad the weather was preventing the next group of Lionesses from coming to relieve us. Time spent on post was a great opportunity to continue practicing our Arabic and work with the local women, some who had befriended us, leaving a personal impression.
Our time at the traffic control point had its ups and downs but overall it was a rewarding experience. The only minor thing which left a sour spot in my memory was the day a woman smacked my face in the "Lioness den" or female search area.
I reacted by yelling close enough to her face that I'm sure she could feel the heat off my bad breath as I put her hands behind her. Her face turned red. I think it was my shouting that surprised and embarrassed her.
I don't think she realized how hard she hit me but I didn't feel she was a threat, and neither did my partner, who was standing outside the search area and listening the whole time.
The woman apologized before leaving, which left me confused.
My partner on post that day, a cook, teased me about the whole thing, by mimicking the way I hollered. I laughed with her, which helped me get over it. Communicating with my partner was important for our safety and to pass the time. In this case, it helped me regain my focus on the job at hand.
On one of our final days there, I had the opportunity to see a woman named Kara, who passed by a couple times a week with her baby boy. She always greeted me with a smile and called me her "sadiki," or friend, and always asked for me when I wasn't there.
She was also friends with my usual partner, a field wireman. We were always glad to see her and used the couple of minutes to practice our Arabic as she passed through the traffic control point.
On our second to last day on post, she came and brought her baby along for us to compliment. After she returned to her truck, her group waited for a while before I started to wonder why. I gave her cookies for her baby and another young boy in the car while they waited.
It turned out, a young man in her family was detained and being questioned by Iraqi policemen at the traffic control point.
I felt bad for Kara. She seemed upset and soon looked away from us and covered herself and the babe with her burka. It was about an hour before her party finally left, without the man being questioned.
I'm not sure how friendly she would have been afterwards but I wasn't there much longer to find out. We left the traffic control point the day after our replacements arrived.
As we convoyed out, passing through the city, I desperately searched for any familiar faces, finding none. We were leaving behind a positive group of Iraqi women who gave me a renewed impression of the females here, opposite of what I usually saw on the news.
| Date Taken: | 04.15.2008 |
| Date Posted: | 05.06.2008 12:04 |
| Story ID: | 19155 |
| Location: | IQ |
| Web Views: | 194 |
| Downloads: | 150 |
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