Following

Of the many surprises I’ve had since arriving here, seeing how children react to our presence has been one of the more interesting. Driving through any of the nearby villages almost always yields small groups of kids standing on the sides of the roads, waving as we pass by. Waving back is one of the small pleasures I take from daily life here. I wish I knew exactly what was going on in their minds at that moment.

But driving by them is nothing compared to dismounted patrols. It starts with one or two, depending on the area, and within minutes even the shy ones just peeking from behind their doors come out and join the crowd. Between over five years of American occupation and the occasional English speaking television feed, many of them have learned a few key phrases that they love to show off.

To catch our attention they invariably start with “MisTAR MisTAR!,” accenting the second syllable and slightly rolling the final R. They also say this without regard to gender. The following is a typical conversation I’ve had with just about every kid in the area:

Every Iraqi kid ever: MisTAR! MisTAR!
Me: A-salaamu aleykum. (Hello.)
EIKE: Give me! (He then points to something on my vest, usually my pen or sunglasses.)
Me: No I can’t. I need it/them/these.
EIKE: Yes yes. Give me.
Me: It’s mine, I need it!
EIKE: MisTAR! Give me pen! Please! (The ‘please’ has been new lately. These kids are smart, and must recognize my affinity for politeness.)
Me: I’m sorry, I can’t.
EIKE: {something in Arabic}
Me: What?
EIKE: MisTAR! Give me!

If allowed, this cycle can repeat indefinitely.

I’ve also learned – the hard way – never to actually give them anything, unless you want an Iraqi kid entourage following you around town.