Dusty

When it comes to weather here in B-Town Iraq, you’ve got yourself two options: hot and sunny or hot and dusty. Yesterday a sand storm rolled in about mid day and I woke up this morning to a hazy sunrise and a coating of fine orange dust on everything. Most people have their own idea of what a sand storm is like based on what they’ve seen at the cinema. The storms of movies show billowing, dark clouds on the horizon, climbing into the sky to blot out the sun and howling dirt laden winds engulfing man and animal alike in mounds of earth and powder. This is the time when the hero and his sidekick buries themselves in the sand or cut open a taun-taun to crawl in it’s belly to survive. I could be confused about that last part.

During my brief stint in Kuwait, we were socked in a few days due to “black” road conditions caused by dust storms. The trucks could not move on the road because of the inability of the headlights to penetrate the dirty fog and we were reduced to spending the day hiding out and napping in the a/c tents. Here in Baghdad the storms aren’t as bad because we reside in a building filled city, but it still makes being outdoors miserable. Imagine walking through a really foggy day in Maine (only hotter) or strolling downwind from a huge wildfire (but there are no trees). It’s still light out, but visibility is low and the air has a taste to it. In a Baghdad sand storm, the air tastes like you’ve just licked the top of your dusty TV, unless of course you’re one of those compulsive duster types in which case you would only be left with the tang of plastic after frenching your television. In any case, your eyes feel like your eyelids are made out of a luffa, your chest feels heavy as you try to breath in the thick air and if you chose to breath through your nose, well, be prepared for some serious booger action going on in your snout. And contrary to what people think, there really isn’t a lot of actual sand in a sand storm. Instead, it closely resembles dirty, orange baby powder and it coats everything (and I mean EVERYTHING). Even the inside of our trailers get a fine layer of dust which really isn’t surprising since the high quality of craftsmanship that went into building them failed to notice the 2 inch gap around the door. It’s not enough to kill a Dustbuster, but enough to strain any electrical components that you happen to have left out in the open. Transportation by aircraft is hard (not undoable, but just more difficult), communications get a little iffy, and you’ll spend some substantial personal hygiene time cleaning out your ears. Not fun.

It isn’t all bad as there are some pretty decent benefits to the obscured sky and hacking cough. Because the sun is blotted out, the temps typically hover around the low 100s for the day of the storm instead of topping out at the usual 120. The daylight also last a little longer which is great for the folks who work late and normally have to trudge home in the dark. And the big plus is the bad guys can’t see the tower that they use as a target reference point to shoot rockets towards my hooch. Two thumbs up there! So in the big scheme of things, I’ll happily exchange the irritated reverse raccoon eyes and dry throat for the modified “armored turtle” position I take on the floor of my trailer on clear days during incoming barrages. Overall, I think it’s a fair trade off.