Ali As Saliyah, Qatar pt. 2: Journal 9/6/06
The best thing about spending a week at Camp As Sayliyah was the silence. People warned me before I left that I would find the silence almost uncomfortable. Back on Anaconda we’re constantly hearing choppers flying over our heads, explosions, generators pumping, and a handful of other assorted background noises. At Ali As Sayliyah, I never once saw an airplane glide across the sky. The loudest thing out there was the sand being kicked up into my ears.
As I mentioned in a previous blog, the camp isn’t much to look at. I found some shots of the camp online to give a better idea of its dullness.
The above picture shows the warehouses they kept us in.
On the days that I couldn’t get out to Doha, I was here wandering about. Most of my day was spent watching the clock waiting for 6pm to roll around. (Drinking time!) The first day I was able to drink, the bar felt a bit like a candy store. Heineken, Amstel, Guiness, Budweiser, and my drink of choice… Tuborg. Why Tuborg you say? Two reasons: It came in a can the size of a Guiness and is 5.5lcohol. After 3 cans of those bad boys, I found I had a decent buzz.
I hung out every night with the two boys who adopted me. We usually played pool and chatted. I was suprised to find out that one of them grew up in Aurora, IL. (I still consider Aurora my home even though I haven’t lived there in nearly a decade.) Small world, eh? I am totally indebted to them for watching out for me as it was getting really tedious trying to make myself invisible. No matter where I went or what I did there was always some goofy looking dude trying to chat me up. It was always a huge mass of military boys where ever I went and add to that a little liquid courage… gah. I dubbed J my “cock block king” as he had a knack for discouraging boys from approaching me just by a glance of his eyes. There must be some unwritten code between men. No one wanted to get into another guys “teritory”. It really wasn’t the time or place to assert my feministic tendencies so I just let it go.
On my last night there, we decided to hit up the “club” on the other side of post. They had thumping music and lights flashing on a deserted dance floor. Everyone was sitting around watching one lonely looking dude dancing with himself in the disco light. I drank my usual three Tuborg’s and my friend J managed to squeek out two beers from someone and gave one to me. By this point I was nicely buzzed and the place started to fill up.
Every time I went outside for a smoke a group of guys would practically surround me. I sat down on a chair because it was so hot outside and before I knew it this guy was literally on his knees in front of me. He gave me those googly eyes and asked me where I was from. I turned to his friend and asked, “Is this guy alright??”. They all blabbered on and I finished my smoke just in time for J to find his way back to my side (Cock Block King in action!).
Everything got a bit hazzy after that. I remember talking to J about the time I got shot at during tower guard. I remember walking back to the table and everyone was gone. And I remember feeling like I had to get out of there ASAP. I walked outside to the bus stop and got on the first one that came by.
I couldn’t make it on the bus for more than 5 minutes. I got off on the first available stop and promptly vomited every little last thing in my stomach. Once I was finished wretching, I looked around and I found myself at one of the furthest bus stops on post totally alone. I don’t think J noticed that I got off the bus because I left so quickly. All I could do at that point was to just start walking. It felt good to walk anyways as it kept me awake. After about 5 minutes of my trek back to my room, J comes running down the street poring with sweat. (Even though it was around midnight, the temp was still teetering around 100 F.) He wanted to make sure I was ok and walked the remainder of the way with me back to my building.
I ended up spending half the night in a toilet stall watching my feet stick under the door. I kept thinking to myself, “I hope no one thinks I’m dead with my feet sticking out like that.” But I was powerless to move them. I eventually made it back to my bed and finally slept.
The next day I was very suprised at how my body reacted to the alcohol. Granted it’s been a long time since I’ve drank beer… but after only 3 1/2 drinks?? Very unusual if you ask me. The thought has crossed my mind that maybe someone tried to slip something in my drink and I bailed out before it could take its full effects. If so, then my instincts are working perfectly.
And this brings me to a very serious and important issue.
Why does it feel like we’re fighting ourselves more than the “enemy”? Why did I feel more comfortable walking around Doha, Qatar than on a military camp? How is it that people try and take advantage of these situations? Situations where a female is the vast minority and has few alies?
The next day I sheepishly saw J and was a bit embarrassed for running out of there the way I did. There was no time to bother with it though because it was our flight day. At that point I was more than ready to head “home”. I loved Doha but I hated Camp As Sayliyah. It was an even longer flight back to Anaconda (10 hours with a stop in Kuwait), but I was relaxed to know the madness of Sayliyah was behind me.
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