Fingerflickin' Good

So as you know it's been quite a while since the last post and I'm not really sure what I should write about or even say.  I've never been one to talk about work, so I'm not sure what is boring or fun for you to read about.  That being said, I'll try not to terribly bore you.

Let's talk about eating since I love to do that, but not quite the same way the Iraqis do.  Let's start off by saying Muslims, or rather good Muslims don't eat pork (or rabbit by the way, weird).  Anyways, cows aren't that plentiful as they're grazers and I haven't seen much grass around here.  So the main dish as far as I know is lamb or goat.  Sheep roam everywhere over here, but they're most often seen near the markets where people buy everything.  There are no Wal-Marts or grocery stores to buy staples, so street vendors and store owners place all their goods out in the open so people will stop and spend their money.  Well the sheep generally have some marking on their wool, generally some symbol or Arabic writing written in spray paint advertising the owner.  The sheep which hang out near the market ought to know better because you can't go long without seeing someone stuffing a live one in the trunk and driving off, or one being quartered on the side of the road.  I'm assuming the butcher takes it to the market and sells it to a store, or he just chooses to do his butchering on the roadside as if it was some advertisement for the quality of meat he sells.  Anyways, the sheep just go on eating garbage (it is rare to see a trashcan around here) or whatever else they can find for sustenance while what used to be Bob and Sara are taken down the street and hung from a hangar outside of a shop for sale.  I've walked past several places like this while on walking patrols and besides the ever present sewage and garbage smell, the meat sometime smells a little strange.  The flies crawling all over it don't seem to help the appetite either (and the flies are everywhere).  

But, back to the eating.  To sit down and eat with Iraqis, or Muslims as I have been told is a good thing, they say it is as if you are now brothers.  When the Iraqis eat, they put on a large spread.  There was a platter of seasoned rice, plates of vegetables, fried things, homemade goat's milk yogurt (tasty!), different types of bread, and of course....lamb.  There are no plates or silverware to use, so I hope everyone washed their hands prior to showing up.  Once they say eat, everyone is expected to dig in (but only with the right hand because the left hand is for the bathroom, and there's no TP in Iraq).  So now that everyone is eating with their hands and touching every bit of food on the table, you get over the initial gross factor and dig in.  There's this weird thing the Iraqis I've eaten with like to do with their food though.  The rice is a bit greasy from whatever is in it and after they make a little rice ball and eat it there's a little bit of rice left on their fingers.  Well instead of being rude, they don't like their fingers, but instead shake their hand and flick the fingers so the rice lands back on the platter so the rest of us can enjoy those savory little pieces.  Again, tasty.

So there I am eating my lamb that was covered in flies while hanging from an outside overhang after it was butchered in the dirt on the roadside post daily garbage buffet, and I'm doing all right despite the turmoil going on in my stomach.  And then the guy looks at me, grabs some rice and a piece of lamb and breaks the lamb into smaller pieces using his now greasy fingers into my hand and motions for me to eat it.  That was the best bite of lamb and rice I've ever had.

If that's what being a brother means, I'm glad I don't have any.