The (not so) Green Zone

So Jenan, an Iraqi staffer new to the McClatchy bureau, and I need military press IDs that will help us scoot by some U.S. military checkpoints and that I'll need to embed with troops during my time in Iraq.

That means a trip to the Green Zone, the fortress jury-rigged from Saddam's palaces in central Baghdad that's home to military headquarters and all the key government buildings.

Let's see, first we went through an Iraqi Army checkpoint. Next we zigged our way through barricades and past a Bradley Fighting Vehicle (think tank, but smaller) at a checkpoint armed by U.S. troops in wrap-around sunglasses. After crossing the 14th of July Bridge over the Tigris, we navigate another maze of blast walls and get looked over at a checkpoint staffed by Triple Canopy. (It's a private firm formed by former U.S. special forces who use Peruvians in battle fatigues for jobs like this.) Dogs sniff our car. We move on. A little farther and a squad of Georgian soldiers check us out. We park. We get patted down by more Triple Canopy Peruvians. Then it's Iraqi police. Then a second pat down by Iraqi cops overseen by the Peruvians.

For me this is easy. The ID is in my hand in 20 minutes (granted, it says Hedderson Canon because my middle name got subbed for my first somehow).

Not so easy for Jenan. Because she is not an American, she must be screened for a series of biometrics (fingerprints and more) and needs to make an appointment to return another day.

This strikes her, understandably, as frustratingly ironic. An Iraqi in the center of the capital of her own country must jump through more hoops to get around than some foreigner not 24 hours off the plane.

In fact, the entire Green Zone visit is disappointing for her. She hadn't been here since the war started. Now she finds it not just unwelcoming, but bleak.

Before the war, it was a favorite place for families to take a drive to look at monuments like one for unknown soldiers or tributes to the martyrs of the war with Iraq. There were fountains and gardens and reflecting pools. They're mostly dry now. Weeds creep through the sidewalks. The grass is all but dead. Trash blows around. Graffiti-splattered blast walls make for the unifying design element.

"Why is it so dry?" Jenan wonders. "We have the Tigris and the Euphrates. We have plenty of water. Why?"