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There is a janitor who works here in the building where I perform my duties as the MNF-Iraq.com webmaster. In the world of concrete and metal that surrounds us, this quiet, humble man has begun planting sunflowers. He plants them in pots, and in unused patches of dirt. I see him carefully tending his garden of green shoots several times a day in between his bathroom cleaning, mopping and sundry other duties.
This man braves danger every day when he comes to work. If I took his picture and posted it here, he would probably disappear soon after. The insurgents are not merciful to those who work with the fledgling Iraqi government, and are even less willing to tolerate the presence of men and women who cooperate with the coalition forces.
When I see my Iraqi friend tending to his sunflowers, I feel hope. All around this man, his country is in turmoil. Yet he gets out of bed every day, goes to his job and does not complain. He takes the time to plant new life and tends it carefully. He is not an important man. Most of the people who he deals with probably never give him a second thought.
I do.
I see Iraq’s future in this man, this gentle soul who cleans up the messes made by other people and who quietly tends his sunflowers amid the concrete fortress where we work. I’ll call my friend the Iraqi janitor Ali. It is a good Iraqi name. Ali gives me hope in the face of all those prophecying doom and gloom for the future of this nation. And I hope that, by treating him with respect and friendship, I am giving him hope as well. He will be here, dealing with this war long after I have returned home to my wife, the comfort of an easy American existence and the plehora of advantages we tend to take for granted in our land of peace and prosperity.