Map of Rock Creek Park from the National Park Service.
There are a lot of ways and reasons to be inspired by EPIC’s recent Iraqi Youth Hike. This past weekend, I was inspired in a simple way: I went on a hike. Having not been on a proper hike in quite some time, I was reminded that a hike is not so simple a thing.
Unlike the Iraqi Youth Hikers, I didn’t have to travel far to find the quiet of nature. But in true city-dweller fashion, I barely knew that so wild a version of nature was nearby. In Washington, small parks abound and trees are plentiful even lining busy streets. The National Mall dominates the sights most tourists and new Washingtonians see. To the north, though, a sliver of the city and part of Maryland make up Rock Creek Park.
In Rock Creek Park, it’s almost impossible to tell you’re only minutes from the nation’s capital. The trees are dense and keep the sounds of civilization at bay. The biggest hint that DC isn’t far are the other hikers out wearing Washington Redskins sweatshirts.
Like the Iraqi Youth Hikers, I was transported to a place I’d never been, but also like them, I had an excellent guide to learn from. Without the leadership of Dara (and her aptly named dog Scout), it’s very likely I would have found myself still wandering the trails looking for a way out. I learned the basics, some things so basic I should have known. Like look for the trees with the blue marks to stay on the correct trail. Keep hydrated. Ask questions.
Now I have the confidence I could go out there and hike on my own or introduce some other friends to what they’ve been missing in Rock Creek Park. I didn’t just learn about myself and my city, but I also learned more about my friends. The hike was a great bonding experience.
Me, surveying the surroundings from the eponymous rock creek.
The short hike I took through Rock Creek Park wasn’t anywhere near as intense or revelatory as the one the Iraqi Youth Hikers took, but it was a great reminder that the littlest things can have a big impact. Knowing how much the young men who took part in the Iraqi Youth Hike program learned about themselves, the world around them, and each other, I appreciate more my ability to take a hike whenever I want. I also appreciate the EPIC supporters, volunteers, and staffers who helped make the Iraqi Youth Hike a reality.
I must have been fairly young when I learned the common refrain: recycle, reduce, reuse. Probably in elementary school because no rebellious teenager is going to take a mnemonic seriously that doesn’t help them on their next test. For me and my peers, environmental education started early.
Recycle, Reduce, Reuse
The message of conservation wasn’t always so common in the United States, though. In fact, it’s the 1971 “Crying Indian” ad campaign that some credit with elevating environmentalism up to the mainstream consciousness. That ad was just one of Keep America Beautiful‘s campaigns, but the one that became iconic. Everyone has seen the ad or a parody of it (for my generations, it’s probably “The Simpsons” version.)
We can see the effect of campaigns like the “Crying Indian” and teaching “Recycle, Reduce, Reuse” to elementary school kids every day when we walk outside. I don’t throw an empty coffee cup into a gutter on my way to work, I wait until I see a garbage can. On really good days, I even remember to bring my reusable travel mug and get a $.10 discount at Starbucks. It’s not just me, either. We’re all collectively taking action to, well, “Keep America Beautiful.”
That’s why I found the photos from the fourth day of the Iraqi Youth Hike so illuminating. On Day Four, the young Iraqis saw the city dump in Sulaymaniyah and learned about the human impact on pollution. They learned about how to be custodians of the environment. Because the litter, trash, and waste in Iraq doesn’t end at the dump. Discarded cans, glass bottles, and even electronics or appliances can be found in the waterways and ditches downtown.
But like with so many things in Iraq, there is hope for a better future. With more environmental education and the work of organizations like EPIC and Nature Iraq, the importance of conserving the environment can be elevated to the mainstream in Iraq. It must be, too, because a healthy environment leads to a healthy future of Iraq.
I love technology. Every day it puts me in touch with colleagues and friends from around the world. Firing up Skype means being able to connect from Washington to people as far flung as Kabul, Sulaimaniyah, and Phnom Penh.
Erik has been able to send me photos that I’ve posted on Flickr and anecdotes from the hike with Skype. He’s been able to email short notes and quotes from the young hikers, like Kastro who kept thanking EPIC and our Iraqi partners Nature Iraq and Metrography for the opportunity to take part in the Hike. It’s was an experience he otherwise would have never had.
And just yesterday, Facebook enabled us here at EPIC to get a very nice surprise. (Have you “Liked” us on Facebook, yet? I promise, it’s painless!) Ahmed, one of the participants in our Iraqi Youth Hike, posted a picture of himself and EPIC Executive Director Erik Gustafson on the hike through Kani Shok.
EPIC Executive Director Erik and Iraqi Youth Hiker Ahmed
Ahmed thanked EPIC for organizing the peacebuilding program saying, “I will not forget these times.” He called the experience wonderful and said he told all of his friends and family in Kirkuk about it.
But Ahmed hasn’t told only them, with Facebook and other technology, young Iraqis can tell their friends in Baghdad and Michigan about the great time they had. And, more importantly to EPIC, platforms like Facebook allow the hikers to stay in touch with us and with each other long after the program ends. Building understanding and friendship between different communities won’t end in Kani Shok, it will continue in Kirkuk and also here in the ones and zeros that make up the words, pictures, and videos we share with technology every day.
Most of us have been there: sitting in the living room with screws and bolts strewn around us, particle board leaning at odd angles. We were so optimistic when we saw the shelving unit on the display floor at IKEA, but we’ve got a challenge ahead of us. At least the wordless instruction manual assures us these pieces will all fit together into a sturdy stand for our old textbooks, our new tomes, and the DVD sets we’re maybe a little embarrassed about. (Less the “Battlestar: Galactica”, more the “Supernatural”.)
Our Iraqi Youth Hikers model our awesome t-shirt with EPIC Executive Director Erik Gustafson (middle)
But in the end, all the hard work is worth it. We have a bookshelf we built with our own two hands (at a good price, too) and building it ourselves just feels good. It’s called the IKEA Effect, the tendency of people to place more value into something they’ve built themselves.
That’s why I think we’re all so excited here at EPIC about the Iraqi Youth Hike. This weekend, the young Iraqis taking part in our program met, got to know each other, and learned about the challenges ahead of them on the Hike and what they’re expected to get out of it. Next, they’ll learn about the natural environment around them and begin to document their world through photography.
The Iraqi Youth Hike is our first project on the ground in Iraq. Early on, it was just disparate bits and pieces of ideas and then–because over 130 people helped us build it with their generous donations–together we turned the Hike into a reality. We each had a hand in making the Hike what it is and we’ll each have a hand in ensuring it’s a sturdy success.
An Expedit bookshelf. They excite me so much I have two.
You can still contribute to making the Hike (and future hikes!) as exciting as an Expedit just by spreading the word about EPIC on Facebook and Twitter, making a donation, or buying a t-shirt.
Just like the bookshelf, you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing you helped build the Hike that’s right now empowering young Iraqis with the skills to be the future leaders of Iraq.
I know I feel that satisfaction when I see the photos and hear the stories coming out of the Iraqi Youth Hike. I know we couldn’t have built it without you. Thank you for helping all of us at EPIC give young Iraqis the tools they too will need to build a more peaceful and prosperous future.
Lots of us remember studying Mesopotamia in middle school. What were those two rivers called? (The Tigris and the Euphrates!) Not everyone remembers that the Fertile Crescent still runs straight through Iraq, nourishing a rich cultural heritage and supporting a lush collection of wildlife and plant life. This has been the case since, well, the earliest civilizations.
These days, however, rising populations and the resulting increases in industrial production and the consumption of water have led to higher pollution levels throughout this precious region and the entire country. This video about Nature Iraq’s “Upper Tigris Waterkeeper Project” demonstrates some of the pollution problems facing Iraq as well as the direct, hands-on efforts to conserve the natural beauty and biodiversity of Iraq.
Iraq’s ecological problems are twofold; lack of awareness is leading to the abuse and pollution of natural resources and Global Climate Change is leading to increased desertification. These have led to rising health concerns, such as dust storms in Baghdad that cause asthmatic deaths, and social concerns: such as increased migration rates, and greater numbers of resulting conflicts.
Fortunately there are organizations like Nature Iraq, Iraq’s first and only affiliate to Bird Life International, and one of the excellent organizations that EPIC is currently working with on the ground. Nature Iraq’s dedicated and hard working staff represents every sect and segment of Iraqi society. Their mission is to protect, restore, and preserve Iraq’s natural environment and the rich cultural heritage that it nourishes. Their task is not an easy one: after 35 years of war and sanctions, much of Iraq’s ecology has been neglected and abused.
One of their immediate priorities is to gather data and make a general assessment of the present condition of Iraq’s environment in order to progress with ecological preservation. Their hope is that as Iraq moves forward with reconstruction and socio-economic development, that they will also be addressing issues of water scarcity, sustainable farming, pollution, and environmental restoration.
I strongly encourage you to browse through Nature Iraq’s galleries and videos, the images are beautifully captured and show a side of Iraq that we don’t often get to see when we turn on the news. If you, as I do, appreciate the work that Nature Iraq is doing, then you will be pleased to find out that Nature Iraq will be working with EPIC to educate participants in our Iraqi Youth Hike. Nature Iraq will lead workshops during the course of the hike and discuss the importance of environmental conservation. In addition, they will also be giving EPIC and the youth hikers access to their Eco-Camp, a permanent camp built by Nature Iraq at the foot of the Peramagroon Mountain.
We here at EPIC are extremely proud and happy to be working with Nature Iraq as they mentor the hikers about the importance of conservation for the future of Iraq.
A good friend once told me a story about growing up in Seattle, where it rained all the time and the kids bring their umbrellas to school. Apparently, a favorite schoolyard game was to pop the umbrella open and jump down a hill, trying to fly like Mary Poppins, catching updrafts and singing about the powers of sugar and clean bedrooms.
It never rains in Southern Wyoming, so nobody brought their umbrellas to school when I was growing up. But the wind howls all winter long, and when we were kids we used to unzip our coats and open them up like airplane wings before running down the playground trying to take off. I always thought that if I made my revving noises loud enough and that if the wind were strong enough I could get airborne, but despite my best efforts this modern-day Icarus never quite got off the ground.
In Wyoming they fly like the Concorde
No matter where we are though, and sometimes despite our best efforts, our lives are intimately connected with and heavily influenced by the environment in which we live. John Muir used to say, “I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in.” I would tend to agree. We reflect the natural environment that surrounds us. Going into nature is, in many ways, like going into ourselves.
And I, for one, am convinced that nature’s effect on our lives goes even beyond the ways we dress, eat, build houses, or play children’s games. Rather, our connection to the natural world determines the way we think, act, and fundamentally value our lives. We’re all just as much a product of the environment as a Dust Bowl farmer with a sack of money under the mattress.
To me, being in nature is about re-discovery. It’s easy to forget the things that I care about and that I want to surround myself with living in the city or even suburbs, but a slow walk through a forest lends a fresh perspective. Buildings and roads and the things we create are perfectly ordered, and smack of artificiality. You won’t find tropical saffron and Mediterranean sage anywhere near each other, but the alphabet has decided they’ll be neighbors in my laboriously organized spice rack. It’s the antithesis of nature, which somehow manages to overcome the chaos without trying. It’s old and slow, but it’s been around a lot longer than we have, so it must be doing something right. And in its unhurried way, nature does things that, despite thousands of years of human technology, still leave me awestruck and agape. The perfection that you can see in the Teton Mountains back in Wyoming, or the bends of the Shenandoah River here in Virginia, or even the understory of your local forest, was all faultlessly created by the only architect seamlessly in-tune with the environment—the environment itself.
The Teton Mountain Range
Nature is something, unfortunately, that not everybody gets to experience, despite what it says about ourselves and the people around us. If only we are in touch with it, that itself creates a sense of community and shared humanity that can serve as a jumping off point for a deeper appreciation of different cultures, religions, and worldviews. With our upcoming nature hike, EPIC will try to introduce Iraqi youth to the natural environment in a way that encourages just this sort of understanding and tolerance. Long term, our belief is that strong communities built upon mutual admiration are the cornerstones of sustainable peace in Iraq, and our hope is that, through programs like hikes and summer camps, Iraqi youth can begin to connect and create relationships that will create a prosperous, stable Iraqi future.
Now we want to know what nature means to you and how it impacts your life. Write us a message, post on the blog, shoot us an email at hike@epic-usa.org or even give Lauren a call. Let us know why your world is special.
Every kid loves summer. No homework, lots of sunshine, and plenty of adventures to be had. Is there anything better? Not in my book.
With the end of every school year, I habitually ditched shoes and headed for the great outdoors. My summers were spent with my two brothers, romping through forests, on beaches, and exploring anywhere else we could find the slightest hint of fun. A successful summer was benchmarked by the bottoms of my feet– they had to be as black as tar (I spent the first eight years of my childhood in North Carolina, after all) and could painlessly endure even the prickliest of pine cones.
I was fortunate enough to not only have two parents who both had free summers to spend with us, but also to have two sets of grandparents who chose to retire in vacation destinations. Consequently, the fleeting summer months of my childhood were split between the quiet beach community of Topsail Island, NC and a sleepy fishing town called Chatham on Cape Cod, with a few weeks at home in between trips, of course. To say that I didn’t adore my summers would be a boldfaced lie, but there was always one thing that irked me come September and the return to school.
The first few days of school were, and always will be, undoubtedly the most anticipated. Seeing long lost friends for the first time in months, hearing about their summer escapades, and then sharing your own create an incentive strong enough to make kids briefly, but definitely, long for school to start. During those first few days, every student eagerly awaited recess and lunch for the opportunity to disclose their exciting, and usually mildly –or heavily– exaggerated tales. Like clockwork, after a story about a trip to Disney World or the Grand Canyon, we would arrive at the inevitable: summer camp.
When the conversation turned in this direction, as it did every year, I prepared myself to be sidelined for the remainder of the discussion. The eye-contact turned awkward as I had to glance off gazes requesting affirmation through the endless “you know what I mean?”s about the dreamy college-aged camp counselor, the terrible camp food, or the similarities between all camp songs. I could never quite grasp the unique experience of spending a summer in a melting pot of kids and developing strictly “summer friends” to look forward to the following year. As I sat quietly and listened, I became intrigued by the idea of such a place– a community of people, grownups and kids alike, dedicated to fun.
Even after the years of listening to countless stories, I am convinced that my understanding of summer camps is still very surface level. Unfortunately, despite my persistence and insistence, my parents never agreed that summer camp was the destination for me. Since those early years of intrigue, I have always wondered… what is it about summer camps that keeps bringing kids back by the flock? What experience did you have at summer camp that cemented your loyalty or that you still look back on nostalgically today?
Following their successful first hike in Chami Rezan, the American University of Iraq – Sulaimani (AUI-S) Hiking Club spent this last weekend on another hiking adventure. I asked Agri, one of the hiking club’s founders and a student at AUI-S, to share with us more about the hike. Here is Agri in his own words:
A view of Qaradagh on the hike.
Qaradagh, which means Black Mountain, is a region located in 70 kilometers south of Sulaimani, Kurdistan, Iraq. It is a historic place in terms of ancient and modern eras. It has been inhabited since about 4000 B.C. In modern times in the 1970s and 80s it was used by the most powerful leaders of the peshmerga, Kurdish ‘freedom fighters’, to hide and stage attacks when they were fighting Saddam’s regime. This history has always attracted foreigners to visit. The area is very green and mountainous. In spring and in summer the weather is suitable for picnics so many people go there. In winter, since it is a mountainous place, there is a lot of snow. Also, there are a lot of different kinds of wild animals in these mountains.
Agri, in red, on the hike.
The second hike of the AUI-S Hiking Club to Qaradagh was more difficult than the inaugural adventure in Chami Rezan. We – Ali and I, the founders of the Club – try to make the hikes harder and harder. So, I guess our next hike is going to be even more difficult. Fortunately, however, since the area was very beautiful and the weather was pleasant, students didn’t feel too tired. Also, for this hike we tried to bring students who didn’t have the opportunity to attend the first one. We also considered whether each student would have the ability to endure the difficulties of the Qaradagh hike. Unfortunately, one of the students threw up 3 times during the hike. He is out of shape and smokes a lot of cigarettes. Fortunately, hiking is all about being prepared, and the club was ready to offer first aid and plenty of water to our friend. The group stopped for some time to allow our friend to rehydrate and recover before continuing on.
The rest of the hiking party was strong and finished successfully without incident. Students that participated in this hike were from both genders. They all liked it and enjoyed their time. When we finished the hike, they asked me to arrange another one for them. One student, Rawa, said, “I really enjoyed my time. I had gone there two other times, but they were with my family. I just went there to picnic. I couldn’t go on a hike. But this time, it was totally different because I was with my friends and it was for hiking not for a picnic. I think hiking is more enjoyable than picnics.” For a local to say that they like something, anything, more than picnicking is a major claim.
A carving of Naramsin.
The hike was hugely successful. It was the first time for some students, especially students who are from the south of Iraq. This hike also included a lot of teachers, which created a strong relationship between them and the students. In this hike, we could see a lot of different things. The hike also contained some history. The most important thing that we saw was a sculpture that was drawn of Naramsin, an ancient king in Mesopotamia, around 2000 B.C. When we got back to the bus, most of the students were thirsty. So Mr. Ali bought two watermelons and half of the way back to Sulaimani we started eating them. It was like a huge gift for some students because they used it to get rid of their thirst.
Last weekend, at 7:45 on a Friday morning, a rag tag group of students rolled into the dusty parking lot behind the American University of Iraq – Sulaimani (AUI-S). Friday is our Saturday; work weeks here run Sunday to Thursday, so you can imagine the general distaste for coming to work and school on a day that you usually want to do anything but. Nonetheless thirty of us showed up ready to hike, many for the first time.
In the week before the big day, Leah McNally, the Athletic Director at AUI-S, and I discussed our befuddlement at the massive interest in the hike; the 30 slots had filled immediately upon announcement and there were 40 on the waiting list. I asked her, “Do you think they understand what this hike is? I mean that it’s not a picnic?” Picnicking is the all time favorite Kurdish tradition and the season is currently in high gear. It turned out that indeed most of them did realize this, and wanted to go anyway.
This would be the inaugural hike of the Trailblazers, the new AUI-S Hiking Club, started by two enterprising and committed young hikers, Ali Imani and Agri Taimur Ghafur.
Ali Imani is a young MBA student. Originally from Iran, Ali started college at AUI-S in Fall 2009.
Agri Taimur Ghafur is a second semester undergraduate at AUI-S. Ever since when his family moved from Iran to Koya, a town about an hour from the city of Sulaymaniyah, Agri has been an avid hiker. His father is Iranian and his mother is from Halabja, a town of unfortunate fame.
During Saddam’s brutal Anfal campaign against the Kurds in the late 1980s, hundreds of villages were razed to the ground, their inhabitants massacred. On March 16, 1988, in what remains the worst chemical weapons attack directed against a civilian-populated area in history, the people of Halabja were indiscriminately assaulted with rockets, napalm, and multiple chemical agents, including mustard gas and sarin, killing thousands. Many thousands more died in the years that followed from injuries and health complications related to that attack and exposure to chemical weapons.
Agri’s interest in hiking comes from many places. Personally, he enjoys hiking because he is out in nature and around his friends. He started the hiking club to “meet new people” and “encourage interest in hiking and the environment and nature here.” Also, Agri sees it as an opportunity for men and women to participate in a sport together. Sports here, as in much of the world, are separated by gender and are not common for women.
And as Agri hoped, the inaugural hike through Chami Rezan last Friday was composed of women and men, students from different places in Kurdistan and from down south in Baghdad. Chami Rezan has everything a hiker could want, and more. We passed families picnicking everywhere on our way in, cooking ‘yaprakh’ (Kurdish) or ‘dolma’ (Arabic) (the most delicious of local foods – spiced rice and meat wrapped in vegetables) and dancing to their car radios. Several of us were almost lost to the fumes rising from the pots, we carried on.
The trail follows the side of a mountain along a river with small grade rapids here and there. Everywhere was green, as is true for the entire region right now. In Kurdistan in the spring, grass rises out of every dirt field as far as the eye can see. Wildflowers were in full bloom – red, yellow, white every few feet. “I loved being in direct contact with nature,” Ahmed, a first year academic student from Baghdad commented, whose family now lives in Sulaimani. The hike started out fairly easy but became increasingly challenging. We climbed up steep narrow passes and along ridges. Some were nervous for brief intervals, a few students slipped on loose rocks, and everyone helped each other. It was not easy at points – one part in particular after we took a wrong turn and had to descend a slippery, steep path.
Mariem, a third year academic student from Baghdad, told me that what she liked most about the hike was “that everyone helped each other…like one big hand.” Students were offering hands, walking sticks, advice, and eventually, stories and laughs about how each one made it down the steep pass successfully. It was a hot day, the sun was beating down, and everyone was sweating. Our final stop was at the river where a water fight broke out. All in all, it was a pretty normal hike.
The post hike wrap up has been amazing. Just as Agri had hoped, the new hikers were talking about how beautiful it was, how much they enjoyed being outside and exercising at the same time. Ahmed’s twin brother Aws loved the experience because of “the mixture of curiosity, encountering difficulties, having marvelous fun and discovering new places.” All student-hikers felt as though they needed to take more advantage of this amazing environment around them. The concept of ‘discovery’ was a theme in many of their responses. They clearly also felt a sense of accomplishment after the 3 hours of sweating in the heat and some challenging inclines and descents.
They also wondered when we were going again; each student with whom I have spoke cannot wait for the next outing. The spark seems to have been lit, and there are so many places left to explore. Kurdistan is not just for picnicking anymore.