The Road to Dikhil
June 13th, 20062157 Hrs - Camp Lemonier
(From Earlier):
It’s around 10AM. We just left Camp Lemonier in a fully armed convoy of 3 SUVs to rendezvous with Navy Seabees in the remote town of Dikhil, Djibouti–population 10,000–where they’re building a school dormitory for local children.
-Aaron Selverston
The air conditioner blasts lukewarm residue onto my sweaty face.
Outside, cracked earth and volcanic rock in all directions. A herd of
camels meanders slothlike across the barren landscape, behind them, a
Djiboutian man herds them into an endless horizon.
Out of nowhere, we pass a line of about 100 giant water trucks on the
side of the road. Where the water comes from, nobody in my car knows.
That’s a question for the US Embassy, where’s we’ll be next week. Up
the road a few miles, ambiguous wooly goat-like creatures running
about, confused and bewildered. Omar calls them ‘Sheeporgoats’, for
surely they must be one of the two, sheep or goats.
We pull into Dikhil–a sun-fired town surrounding a trickling spring;
the convoy approaches a sketchy cement bridge, the lead car chooses to
cross the streambed beside the bridge rather than risking a collapse.
Up the hill on the other side, a single-story encampment behind barbed
wire. A base? No, says Omar, this is the children’s school, with dorms.
The barbed wire keeps them safe at night.
Around back, we find two Army troops guarding the entrance to the
Seabee project: two bright white new buildings, soon to be more dorms.
A seabee pulls a white paintbrush down a windowsill. People marching
around with drills and brooms. It’s light construction, everybody
working, guarded by ‘force providers’, aka US Army troops with big guns.
Some of these seabees recently came from doing similar work in Tsunami
striken regions of Asia. I speak with many of them, and their message
is unanimous: they’re here to win the hearts and minds of the local
people. They didn’t bring guns (CJTF-HOA provided the security detail);
only shovels, drills, hammers, and hardhats. They want to be able to
send their children here in 30 years and have them be welcomed by
grateful locals.
Or, as the Army sergeant said: "I’m here today so that the Army won’t
have to be here tomorrow. In other words, I’m trying to put myself out
of a job."
An hour later; down the street at a gas station. Najla speaks with a
local man who says that he appreciates very much what the Americans are
doing, but it’s hardly enough. Too many kids need school housing.
Time’s up on the public computer here. More later….
-Aaron Selverston
