1: What are you trying to accomplish?
2: What's your evidence that you can accomplish it?
3: How is it possible that you can provide an open heart surgery in Iraq for less than $1,000? Is that the full cost?
4: So is that the same thing as saying that my donation doesn't really make a difference? That the "up to 85%" funded locally by those inside Iraq is all that is really necessary to make this work?
5: Any other costs?
6: What is the bottleneck to more surgeries: money or skilled labor?
7: I'm skeptical of non-profits and charities because they always seem to be asking for more money. How can I be sure that Preemptive Love Coalition has "room for more funding" and that I'm not paying into a huge savings account, "Rainy Day Fund", or something similar?
8: Do you have enough volunteer surgeons available for unfunded Remedy Missions? (i.e., are there trips that you could fund if you had more money, or is there a labor bottleneck?)
9: Many heart surgeries require follow-up treatment (including additional surgeries). Do you have a way of providing these to patients?
10: How do you assess whether surgeries are completed competently and appropriately?
11: What is the rate of complications during and following surgery?
12: How do you assess whether surgeons are performing additional surgeries that they would have not had the funding or motivation to perform otherwise?
13: How do you assess whether surgeons are charging their patients for the surgeries you fund?
14: Do you follow up with the surgeons you've trained to assess whether they are correctly applying their training?
15: What information is available on the activities - and competence - of the surgeons you've trained?
16: Where do surgeons work after completing training? Do they serve poor patients?
17: How much do you spend each year on "program" expenses and how much on "overhead?"


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 Q: What are you trying to accomplish?

A: Train Iraqi heart surgeons and nurses so they can eradicate the backlog of tens of thousands of Iraqi children waiting in line for lifesaving heart surgery. [Back to Top]

 Q: What's your evidence that you can accomplish it?

A: Each year we continue to increase Iraq's total number of pediatric cardiac surgeries with new surgeries in Iraqi centers that would not - indeed could not - have been accomplished otherwise. Ministry of Health (MOH) officials speculate 500 surgeries were accomplished in 2009 (of which we provided 23 - 4.6% - outside the country). The addition of our 82 surgeries in FY 2010 - to the 500 baseline - for a total of 582 approximated surgeries, represents an increase created by PLC of 14% over 2009. In FY 2011 we anticipate increasing Iraq's total number of pediatric cardiac surgeries to at least 719 (or another 19% over FY 2010 directly attributable to our surgeons and our training).

Each year the local teams with which we work will become more proficient, and each year they will independently take on a larger case load than they could have the year before. None of these figures yet account for that additional output.

In March 2010 the Iraqi Ministry of Health asked us to expand our work to three additional sites. In May 2010 we began additional discussions about establishing a fellowship program in which international surgeons and nurses would take up residence in the Iraqi system to train locally for 40 weeks out of the year.

Our model does not rely strictly on volunteers because the level of need in Iraq outstrips what we could reasonably supply through volunteer labor alone. Accordingly, we set our budgets so as to actually contract the international surgical and nursing staff we need to accomplish our mission.

Sure, this increases the cost-per-mission (and thereby, cost-per-child) over early "mission" models in which volunteerism was idealized and training was not necessarily prioritized. But our contract labor + volunteerism model is inarguably the only way to create a nationwide quarterly training program and fellowships inside Iraq with international experts across approximately 6-8 surgical sites. Moreover, our model does not face the same sluggishness of learning that other surgery organizations suffer because we do not have the same rates of turnover; we have incredible consistency across our programs and missions. [Back to Top]

 Q: How is it possible that you can provide an open heart surgery in Iraq for less than $1,000? Is that the full cost?

A: The "less than $1k" numbers we routinely publish represent the amount in "program costs" we spend from our international donor money. The figure does not necessarily account for every single management, overhead, or fundraising expense.

Our total expenditures for FY 2010 were $188,919. We performed 82 surgeries during the same period for a per child total of $2,304 (though this data is a bit moot moving into 2010-11 as we abandon our very expensive "surgery exports" program(s) in Turkey, etc. and focus henceforth on more cost-effective in-country surgeries alone).

When all of our Remedy Mission partners are taken into consideration - including the Iraqi Government, medical companies that donate medicines and supplies, and local organizations - the real Remedy Mission cost to all donors is in the range of $5,400 - $7,000. Put another way, up to 85% of the total cost of a single surgical/training mission is now subsidized by local, Iraqi constituent institutions. [Back to Top]

 Q: So is that the same thing as saying that my donation doesn't really make a difference? That the "up to 85%" funded locally by those inside Iraq is all that is really necessary to make this work?

A: There is not a single site across Iraq for which our Remedy Missions are fully funded. If we fail to provide our 15-19% of the overall budget, Remedy Missions fail, surgeons and nurses do not get trained regularly, on-site audits from our international team do not happen, up to 20 children are delayed from receiving surgery, and a few may even die or become inoperable. Your role in funding the remaining 15-19% is as critical in the short term as any other entity. A single Remedy Mission is binary - it either happens or it doesn't. Your money makes it happen. But our goal is to continue to graduate all our programs so they are 100% funded locally in the next 5-10 years. [Back to Top]

 Q: Any other costs?

A: Our numbers per Remedy Mission do not account for "indirect costs," such as the cost (or value) of our volunteer medical staff from around the world, costs to local healthcare systems, the cost of a family to travel to the surgery site, the opportunity costs of lost income for families as they wait for surgery, etc. The reason we think it's important to note this here is because lifesaving is actually quite difficult. Building a pediatric cardiac surgery system for the entire country of Iraq is laborious and full of complexities. [Back to Top]

 Q: What is the bottleneck to more surgeries: money or skilled labor?

A: People often assume that the biggest need is more Iraqi heart surgeons. We could use a few more, but the real bottleneck is skilled nurses, technicians, and non-surgical physicians. A surgeon is only as good as his support staff. One of our biggest challenges is training pediatric cardiac intensive care nurses. To date, we haven't found a better model than our Remedy Missions through which we bring quarterly hands-on training to local nurses (and surgeons) in Iraq. Rather than exporting the nurses to Europe or the USA for training (whose medical systems barely resemble the Iraqi system), we train them with what they have on hand in their local environment. [Back to Top]

 Q: I'm skeptical of non-profits and charities because they always seem to be asking for more money. How can I be sure that Preemptive Love Coalition has "room for more funding" and that I'm not paying into a huge savings account, "Rainy Day Fund", or something similar?

A: For the record, we are skeptical of non-profits as well! In 2012 PLC needs $350,000 on hand at any given time to cover our cash flow needs for up to three Remedy Missions per quarter. We are still 30% under-funded against that goal. In addition to cash flow needs, we still require 15-19% funding on most of our missions after local sources contribute their portion; we have un-funded pilot programs in new cities where local doctors have been requesting our help (but where weve yet to woo local philanthropists or health directors); and we have research and social service initiatives through our Followthrough program that require funding at present because we have not yet sought local funding for those initiatives (seeing as how they relate mostly to our Monitoring & Impact Evaluation objectives). Please see our "Funding Gap" page to look deeper into our anticipated program costs, the sources of funding we are counting on, and the funding gap between the two for the next few years. [Back to Top]

 Q: Do you have enough volunteer surgeons available for unfunded Remedy Missions? (i.e., are there trips that you could fund if you had more money, or is there a labor bottleneck?)

A: Great question! We use a hybrid volunteer/staff model. Roughly 25-30% of any one of our Remedy Mission teams is employed by the International Children's Heart Foundation (typically the surgeon, scrub nurse, anesthesiologist, ICU doctor, and often a part-time ICU nurse). The remainder of the team typically comprises volunteer physicians, technicians, and nurses from across the world. Because the hardest-to-come-by positions are contract labor for us and NOT volunteers, we have never failed to run a mission for lack of personnel. We have only cancelled or turned down a request for a future mission due to lack of funding. [Back to Top]

 Q: Many heart surgeries require follow-up treatment (including additional surgeries). Do you have a way of providing these to patients?

A: Yes, we do. Our model dictates quarterly visits to each program site (a hospital inside a regional hub). Our reliance on local cardiologists ensures that the local team prioritizes and almost entirely sets the agenda for patient selection (within a development curricula) - after all, Iraqi doctors are the ones who are most intimately connected to the patients and their daily progress! When a local cardiologist sees a child who has either (1) deteriorated and requires another intervention or (2) advanced as expected to the next step of a complex, staged intervention, the child is prioritized for follow-up treatment. [Back to Top]

 Q: How do you assess whether surgeries are completed competently and appropriately?

A: Because we are a broker and play a combination administrative and financier role in the coalition of partners working in Iraq to develop pediatric cardiac care, we are able to stand in-between the local surgical team and the international surgical team (whom we contract as a third-party to train and perform surgeries in Iraq). If the local team or health directorate suspects a lack of competence in the international team, a cavalier attitude, or a single poor judgement call, our role is to be the go-between - to be the advocate for the local healthcare providers vis-a-vis the international surgical team.

Similarly, if the international surgical team feels pushed by the local surgical team to perform procedures with which they are uncomfortable or for which they think the local system is ill-prepared, they are able to refuse children for surgery and/or use us (PLC) as a go-between.

The checks-and-balance between the two teams helps us ensure surgeries are performed in a competent, appropriate manner. [Back to Top]

 Q: What is the rate of complications during and following surgery?

A: We report our in-hospital and 60-day mortality after each Remedy Mission. You can finds those numbers here. We also produce reports after each Remedy Mission detailing the trip, including data on intraoperative complications, post-operative complications, and mortality. You can find those reports here. We are also deliberately raising the funds necessary to help us bring our various heart hospitals into compliance with the International Quality Improvement Collaborative for Congenital Heart Surgery in Developing Countries. If this kind of quality improvement and reporting initiative interests you, we are currently looking for financial partners for our Followthrough program. [Back to Top]

 Q: How do you assess whether surgeons are performing additional surgeries that they would have not had the funding or motivation to perform otherwise?

A: Pediatric heart surgery in Iraq is almost nonexistent without our work. There are two active programs for relatively simple surgeries (one in Erbil and one in Baghdad). Local surgeons claim that combined they perform no more than a few hundred pediatric surgeries a year. In every location where we work, pediatric heart surgery is effectively nonexistent. Therefore, every surgery performed at our program sites (both when we are present and when we are not) are "additional surgeries" that they would not have had the SKILL to perform without the FUNDING we employed to train them in their local environment. [Back to Top]

 Q: How do you assess whether surgeons are charging their patients for the surgeries you fund?

A: Because we work in public (government) hospitals - and because healthcare in Iraq is provided almost entirely free of charge - it is widely known that any cardiologist, surgeon, or administrator seeking compensation for services is acting outside of Iraqi law. [Back to Top]

 Q: Do you follow up with the surgeons you've trained to assess whether they are correctly applying their training?

A: We see them quarterly in their local environment and perform real-time audits of their skills, recollection of past training, application of new techniques, etc. Additionally, our international surgeon remains on call at any time via phone, Skype, or email for consultation. [Back to Top]

 Q: What information is available on the activities - and competence - of the surgeons you've trained?

A: Because our Remedy Mission training program only began in late 2010 - and pediatric heart surgery at our sites across Iraq is the same age - there is still relatively little independent practice to report, and therefore little data on the activities and competence of our surgeons and their teams. But as they begin performing more surgeries independently, we are trying to align each site/surgical team with the International Quality Improvement Collaborative for Congenital Heart Surgery in Developing Countries (a data collection and tracking initiative of Children's Hospital Boston and Harvard University). [Back to Top]

 Q: Where do surgeons work after completing training? Do they serve poor patients?

A: As of Q2 2011 there was only one private hospital in Iraq (to our knowledge) providing pediatric heart surgery (and those surgeries were on the lower end of the complexity scale). Our work does not necessarily mean to exclude private hospitals as they continue to come online and become viable options, but at present the government system has a better equipped foundation for training local surgical teams. As we look to fully graduate our local surgical teams in the next 5-10 years, we imagine that most of them will stay in the public sector for all of the stability, pensions, and benefits of loyalty provided to those who stick with it. But, undoubtedly, some will seek positions at private hospitals (assuming private hospitals are willing to invest in the requisite capital purchases necessary to establish a credible program). In the public sector, rich and poor are served alike. In the private sector, poorer patients would be at an obvious disadvantage. [Back to Top]

 Q: How much do you spend each year on "program" expenses and how much on "overhead?"

A: As a rule, we do not adhere to the model that claims that "overhead" is somehow bad and "program" is somehow good. There are very bad program expenses. There are overhead expenses that are excellent investments. We agree with Paul Brest, President of the Hewlett Foundation, when he said, "Achieving a low overhead ratio drives many charities to behaviors that make them less effective and means more, not less, wasted dollars." Therefore, we spend as much on overhead as we need to accomplish our mission. The mission itself is our North Star - not arbitrary (even harmful) standards about overhead-vs-program expenditures. For the record, however, you can find a current pie chart of our expenditures here (and if you're into that sort of thing, you'll probably be impressed!). [Back to Top]

Jeremy Courtney Founder, Executive Director Twitter: @Jeremy_Courtney

“I'd love to hear any critique or questions you might have!”

DROP A NOTE OR DONATION BY MAIL: Preemptive Love Coalition 1300 Darbyton Dr. Hewitt, TX 76643 GIVE BY PHONE: To make a gift over the phone, using your credit card (Visa, MasterCard, American Express, or Discover), please call +1 (806) 853-9131 during normal business hours. IRAQ OFFICE: +964 770-355-6298 (local)

Looking Back—3 Ways My Internship in Iraq Changed Me for the Better

May 17, 2012 by matt · Leave a Comment 

As I write this, our 2012 interns are in the air and headed toward Iraq! So it only seemed appropriate to share a few lessons-learned by former intern Lauren Sawyer. Lauren wrote out 3 of the most beneficial things she took away from her time here in Iraq, and we’re hoping this year’s interns will also benefit personally as they help us save lives.

###

It’s been two full years since I boarded the first of three planes that would take me to Iraq.

Yet I still remember what I was talking about when I first landed in the desert country. Another intern, Lydia, and I were trying to rewrite the words to “Party in the U.S.A.” to fit our situation. By the end of the summer the song became “Party with the P.U.K.,” for a political group in northern Iraq. (Sophisticated conversation? Not so much.)

I have so many memories of that summer in Iraq: the places I ate, the taxi rides, the late-night chats on the roof of our house. But more than that, I have a series of life-changing realizations. Iraq changed me: it changed my perspective, it changed my behavior. Here are a few ways:

(1) People are just people wherever you go.
While in Iraq, a fellow intern Claire and I used to hum Regina Spektor’s song “The Ghost of Corporate Future” with the lyrics: “People are just people; they shouldn’t make you nervous.” I’m convinced we got that song stuck in our heads as often as we did because of that first line: “People are just people.” We found ourselves saying those words all the time, whenever we met another Iraqi we had something in common with.

The similarities between me, a young American girl, and the Iraqis I met were most clear in the English class Claire taught. I noticed how our Iraqi students watched the same TV shows as us (Vian loved “Grey’s Anatomy”) and had similar views on marriage, even, and education.

But more than that, I met people who were fundamentally like all people I knew in the States. I met fathers who loved their children, who would do anything to keep them healthy. I met children who loved games and were happy always—even when they were on their way to surgery.

Now that I’m back in the U.S., I still have opportunities to remind myself of this truth, that people are just people. I’ve spent the past two summers working for a nonprofit that advocates for people with disabilities. I’ve learned there, too, that people are just people— whether they are blind or have Down Syndrome. People are just people.

(2) We cannot accurately critique people without having truly experienced their culture.
Last semester I was sitting in my freshman-level philosophy course—as a senior—counting how many times the blonde freshman-but-sophomore-by-credits said something rude and untrue about Muslims. In that same class I heard my professor and other students make claims about how Iraq is “Worse off now that the U.S. troops are leaving”—as if these silly Midwest American civilians knew anything about life in Iraq.

My roommate and my boyfriend both told me to just say something and I did, once, without much effect. Changing someone’s mind about a culture isn’t easy.

Living in Iraq for two months taught me that you cannot critique or judge a culture without having experienced their culture like an insider. Visiting Italy for a few weeks is not the same as living like an Italian, speaking the language, shopping where they shop, eating their food, learning about their politics, their history. My two-month stint in Iraq taught me that I didn’t know enough about Iraq to critique it.

I need to keep asking questions. As soon as I stop asking questions and think I have it figured out, I’ll inevitably hurt someone or lead others to believe a lie. So when people like that freshman-but-sophomore-by-credits girl say something I know is untrue to my experience in Iraq, I need to do more than just correct them. I need to show them how to ask questions, to hunger for understanding, and to have an imagination, which leads me to my last point…

(3) We are called to be people of imagination.
I heard about the Preemptive Love Coalition when I had lost all faith in my future. I was 19 years old, and I thought that just because my life wasn’t heading in the direction I thought it should, it was over. But after reading PLC’s mission statement and then talking to Jeremy and Cody about their vision for Iraq’s future, my faith was restored. I recognized even before I boarded those planes that those working for PLC were people of imagination, and I wanted to be a part of it.

I’m convinced that you can’t do anything big and life-changing without having imagination. I doubt PLC would have ever existed without Jeremy and friends imagining a life without heart defects, without thousands of kids in line for surgery.

Before I worked for PLC that summer, I let myself live small stories that took little imagination. I expected my life to be like everyone else’s, without real risk, without adventure. But PLC showed me how to have an imagination, to dream up a better world for others and for myself.

Now, as I’m graduate-school bound (“real world” bound, as I say), I know that imagination will save me from living a self-centered life. Imagination will turn me into a person like the PLC staff and the doctors and the business people I met in Iraq, dedicated to changing the world—and able to.

###

You can read more musings by Lauren on her blog. Come back next week and we’ll introduce you to our new summer interns—can’t wait!

As PLC's Press Secretary, Matt Willingham writes, reads, edits, tweets, updates, and works with a camera so as to connect hearts and minds to Iraqi children in need. On the side, he likes reading stories, devouring the great food his wife cooks up and exploring DSLR work. He's also mildly obsessed with Twitter: @mehtin.

Why Heart Surgeons Are Like Rock Stars

August 22, 2011 by Lydia · 1 Comment 

I’m in an Iraqi hospital room, surrounded by five conservative, Muslim women, discussing Michael Jackson. Wait–what?

During our last Remedy Mission in southern Iraq I became curious about what these families think when they see me. When they meet a young, white, American girl do they take me for who I am, or do stereotypes and reality TV characters precede me? What kind of reputational baggage have American media, troops or aid workers left in Iraq that I don’t even know I’m up against?

Needing to get to the bottom of this, I grabbed a translator and headed to the hospital ward to ask these mothers, “Who or what represents ‘America’ to you?”

The first few answers were easy– “democracy”, “freedom”, “independence.” But these were not the answers I was looking for. I wanted to hone in on who was the singular “face” of America. So we started asking just that, “Which single person represents the United States to you?”

The most popular answer? Michael Jackson. I couldn’t help laughing out loud. Really? Michael Jackson? I was expecting Lady Gaga, Brad Pitt or perhaps Katy Perry (or President Obama, at the very least). But MJ? And I got this answer from not one but several Iraqi families. Pretty interesting, right?

But the resounding response I also kept hearing was….Dr. Novick! Our very own, world-renowned, rockstar heart surgeon from Memphis is revolutionizing the way Iraqis see Americans.

Many of the women agreed that this ICHF team had completely exceeded their expectations on the kindness of the West. I guess saving their child’s life leaves a stronger impression than “American Idol.”

Dr. Novick–Michael Jackson’s got nothing on you!

Lydia Bullock wrote and photographed for us during the 2010 summer internship and then again for 7 months in 2011. She documented surgical missions in northern and southern Iraq. See more of her excellent work on our Flickr stream, or follow her on Twitter: @lydiabullock.

3 Tips To Help You Beat The Iraqi Heat

August 15, 2011 by Adam · 1 Comment 

Iraq is hot.

This isn’t Texas-hot or even Mexico-hot. This is a mouth-so-dry-you-can-barely-talk kind of hot. I’ve never craved water as much as I do here.

It’s completely normal for temperatures to stay up around 115 degrees Fahrenheit in the summer, so how do you beat the heat? Well, until Bear Grylls decides to brave this desert, here are a few tips from yours truly on how you can beat the Iraqi sun:

1. The locals have an efficient method for staying cool and they’ve been doing it for centuries–they stay inside!

As my Kurdish friend told me, when it gets hot enough to fry an egg on the street and there isn’t a pressing need to go anywhere, stay indoors and wait for the sun to go away.

2. But, as much as you’d like to hide inside, sometimes that just isn’t possible. Cabin fever sets in, and, once the walls start closing in, you’ll risk the eyeball-melting heat for a little air. So what do you do?

Scout out any and every bit of shade to walk under. This may mean moving to the other side of the street and under the shadow of buildings or considering a new route through the shady (in both senses of that word) alleys or underground passages through the bazaar to reach your destination.

3. In some places, you beat the heat by drinking something cold, like iced tea. Here, the idea of icing a tea or coffee is absurd. Iraqis continue to drink boiling hot tea–even when the weather is the same temperature as the drink.

However, they do have smoothie stands on almost every busy street corner. Here you can drink freshly blended cantaloupe, kiwi, carrot or orange juice. It’s pure fruit, it’s cold and it’s usually less than 25 cents a cup!

So there you have–3 ways to stay cool and beat the Iraqi heat! Hope that helps!

Adam is spending his summer using words and writing to connect hearts and minds to children with CHD. That means poring over newsletters, blog posts, and photo captions to make sure these children are heard and that they get their shot at surgery. When not buried in metaphor, Adam enjoys playing the violin, hiking, and photography. He's also on Twitter @adamhallbrandt.

Our Animated Manifesto

August 5, 2011 by Ted · 1 Comment 

Allow me to introduce PLC’s newest video!

If you’re unfamiliar with our work, we consider this our manifesto. Everything we do boils down to this belief: reconciliation happens through healing.

With your help, that which has been destroyed and ‘unmade’ can be rebuilt. It can be healed.

—

For all you video connoisseurs, what did you think? Give us some feedback in the comments section below, or connect with us on Vimeo.

Ted is making the magic happen as PLC's videography intern this summer ('11). He'll be the first to tell you: he shoots and edits to the glory of GOD and the benefit of Iraqi kids. When he isn't panning his camera, well... just go here to read just a few of Ted's lovable idiosyncrasies. He's also an avid Tweeter: @tedvid.

The Most Disappointing Thing About My 10 Weeks In Iraq

August 1, 2011 by Adam · 2 Comments 

Remember Jenga? That crazy game where you pull blocks out of the wooden tower, hoping it doesn’t tumble over? Making plans often feels like a game of Jenga. You build a tower of ideas piece-by-piece, then life pulls at pieces of your plan, and sometimes our tower of plans comes crumbling down…

About a month ago, we received some disappointing news, and the PLC staff had to make a difficult decision. The Remedy Mission we all hoped to experience in our city, Sulaymaniyah (aka, “Suly”), was canceled. For many of the interns, this Remedy Mission was the biggest reason we fought so hard to get the PLC internship. From the start of our internship process, we wanted to meet the families and kids who would be on the receiving end of lifesaving surgeries. Some of the intern’s assigned work even revolved around there being a Remedy Mission VI.

To make a complicated situation simple, the hospital and a local nonprofit partner didn’t prepare enough for the impending surgical mission. The hospital wasn’t as equipped to handle these complex surgeries as it should have been and funding was withheld. Surgical missions always have some risk involved, but PLC won’t dive into a Remedy Mission with unnecessary risks that could cost children their lives.

PLC could have provided more funds to make the surgical mission in Suly happen and just hoped the hospital’s current equipment was sufficient, but this is about long term solutions over short term gain. The problem could have been temporarily fixed with a handout, but we would much rather empower local organizations and hospitals to take ownership and responsibility for their community–for saving the lives of their children.

We don’t ram solutions down people’s throats. We’re here to aid local desires and local initiatives. So when local preparations fall or local enthusiasm wanes, we don’t force it. Part of creating long term solutions lies in ensuring that this is something local doctors, government officials and parents of sick babies really want–without our patronage.

Thankfully, PLC was still able to host a Remedy Mission, but it was relocated to a better-prepared, southern Iraqi hospital–a place most interns were unable to go.

When the rug is pulled out from under us, we can’t help but feel disappointment. However, we must come to the realization that GOD will reconcile our plans. Even when our Jenga tower crumbles to the floor, GOD is still in control.

Now Remedy VI is finished in southern Iraq, and we can praise GOD for each of the 18 kids who received a successful heart surgery and for zero fatalities!

The internship is now over and–Remedy Mission or not–each of us experienced so many valuable events and lessons. Our plans never really work out quite how we anticipate, but we’ve seen that GOD is trustworthy and will work everything out for the best.

Adam is spending his summer using words and writing to connect hearts and minds to children with CHD. That means poring over newsletters, blog posts, and photo captions to make sure these children are heard and that they get their shot at surgery. When not buried in metaphor, Adam enjoys playing the violin, hiking, and photography. He's also on Twitter @adamhallbrandt.

3 Things I Could Have Only Learned From The Kurds

July 24, 2011 by Ryan · Leave a Comment 

1: Dressing up isn’t only about looking good

For the most part, in America, men don’t dress up to impress their platonic male friends in social settings. When going out somewhere, whether it’s a sporting event, coffee shop, fast food joint or just hanging out somewhere, men typically don’t dress to impress their male friends. We just don’t. If I showed up to have lunch with a friend wearing slacks, dress shoes and a button down shirt, he’d almost be sure to ask where I was coming from or where I was going, that required such attire.

Would you press your shirt and throw on a tie for an all-guys backyard barbecue? Would you shine your shoes and put on slacks to go watch a ball game at a friends house?

Let’s be honest. The answer is no, you wouldn’t.

But the Kurds do. Every weekend in the bazaar, at tea shops or just walking in the street I see Kurdish men wearing slacks, button-down shirts and the shiniest shoes I’ve ever seen in the dustiest place I’ve ever been. Here in Sulaymaniyah, dressing up is not all about looking good. It’s an expression of respect to the people around you as well as to the friend you are meeting for tea. Dressing up isn’t about demonstrating how dapper you can look. It’s about wordlessly saying, “The time I spend with you is a special occasion, and that is worth dressing up for.”

2: Hospitality isn’t just refilling the bowl of potato chips

I always try to be a good host when people come over. I’ve got the basics down – offer them food, offer them drinks, “is there anything I can get you?” – you know, the usual. But since coming to Kurdistan, I’m realizing that hospitality isn’t just refilling the bowl of potato chips; my hospitality should not be confined to guests at my house.

While being here, so many Kurds have gone to great lengths to show me hospitality: from physically leading me to my destination when I’m lost (despite it being in the opposite direction of their destination) to spending entire afternoons with me drinking tea, playing backgammon, teaching me Kurdish and talking about life. When was the last time you spent an afternoon with a stranger, let alone an acquaintence, just to show them a good time?

3: We all yearn for reconciliation

I entered Kurdistan harboring misunderstandings. Besides some brief reading of Kurdish’s history, most of my opinions of Kurdistan were shaped by mainstream media and ignorance. Let me tell you, that was a mistake. My Kurdish friends laughed as I explained the common perceptions of Iraq and Muslims in general, and grimaced soberly as they explained that Osama Bin Laden wasn’t a real Muslim because of the way he perverted, corrupted and twisted the teachings of Islam for violence and hatred.

My Kurdish friends laughed as I told them that not all Americans are like the people on Jersey Shore and that our nation isn’t entirely filled with debaucherous hedonists. They nodded disapprovingly as I spoke about the Westboro Baptist Church and their hateful and irreverent propaganda, and nodded in agreement as I said that we reject them as true representations of Christian theology and culture.

Many things became clear through these conversations, but the most profound epiphany I experienced was that we all yearn for reconciliation. We spoke about TV and culture, but what we were doing was reaching for common ground, understanding, and reconciliation. In discussing our differences and our misunderstandings, we found a common desire for peace between our cultures.

Ryan Rosenberry is spending his summer as a PLC intern (’11) compiling Remedy reports and researching CHD and prenatal care. When not citing sources, this pre-med California native can be found playing the guitar (or piano), partaking in a game of Ultimate Frisbee, or doodling his favorite animal: the pink sea slug.

Rethinking Patriotism: How My Time in Iraq Destroyed My Black & White Answers

July 21, 2011 by benjamin · 1 Comment 

I’m proud to be an American.

I’m proud of my country: its government, its ideals its military–especially its military.

I grew up with a love for the armed forces. I loved G.I. Joe, watching F-16 fighter jets take off from an air force base near my home and reading Black Hawk Down while my classmates were into Harry Potter. It’s difficult to say whether that was just a boyish fascination or a deeper sense of patriotism and national pride.

As I got older and more capable of understanding something abstract as patriotism, I didn’t lose my affinity for our nation’s armed forces. The boyish fascination transformed to the idealistic support for and devotion to our government and military. As a self-described patriotic American, it became easy to justify the costs of our ongoing War on Terror from the safety of my Ohio high school, and, later, university.

But as I found out early on in my time in Iraq with PLC, it’s much more difficult to view every inhabitant of this ancient land as potential terrorists when each man you meet is nicer than the last. It’s much more difficult to think you understand a culture when it continually defies your expectations. And it’s much more difficult to justify the costs of war while sitting face to face with a young boy with a deadly heart defect which- if not directly related to chemical weapons used during Desert Storm or the Iraq War – cannot get surgery as a result of years of infrastructure damage and nationwide sanctions.

Don’t expect me to say I’ve abandoned my love for America or my support for our military. My blood still boils when someone questions the motives of our military or insists our leaders use lies to justify their foreign policy. But I would say the time I’ve spent here in Iraq has completely destroyed any sense of a black-and-white answer to patriotism. My time living shoulder-to-shoulder with Kurds and Arabs has probably left me with more questions than answers.

But that’s a good thing.

Ben Chasnov, a graphic design major at Cedarville University, is spending his summer working on PLC’s editorial layouts. When not busy kerning or using the Bezier Curve, Ben spends his time in Iraq teaching English, playing backgammon and being mistaken for being either Arabic or Kurdish. You can follow him on Twitter at @bchasnov.

Never Have I Ever Spent An Entire Afternoon At A Tea Shop… Until I Came To Iraq

July 17, 2011 by Adam · 1 Comment 

Kurdish men spend a lot of time drinking tea, playing games, and socializing at tea shops. A Kurdish tea shop is completely different from how I imagined a tea shop, since I only had Starbucks and Teavanna to compare it to.

Please allow me to describe my first experience at a legitimate Iraqi tea shop buried in the center of the bazaar.

A returning 2010 intern, Alex, likes to call this tea shop “the catacombs.” So when he proposed the idea of revisiting his favorite place in Sulaymaniyah, another PLC intern and I were excited to visit this mysterious, catacomb-like teashop.

Alex led us through the winding streets of the bustling bazaar, when out of nowhere he dove into the small entrance of “the catacombs.” We walked through the narrow seating area and tea stand and then the room opened up to a huge floor filled with a mess of tables crowded with men.

The sights and sounds of the catacomb tea shop were awesome! The noise of dominoes slamming against tabletops, dice rolling across wooden boards and men’s laughter and conversation filled the room. The walls were lined in dirty, beige brick. These brick walls held pictures of Iraqi politicians and famous figures that seemed to transcend their canvas and stare creepily at you no matter where you moved.

The tea shop is a place where they can invite total strangers or friends to play games and drink cha (the Kurdish word for tea). The workers went around delivering tea, handing out games or repositioning cheap plastic chairs and metal tables to accommodate more Kurds. Every so often the old owner of the shop would come by to sweep up the endless amounts of cigarette butts scattered across the floor.

We found a small spot near the AC, and immediately our white skin and American-ness attracted eyes of friendly patrons eager to practice their English and help us out in our attempts to play backgammon. Anytime I play backgammon, a Kurd either playing or just watching, would move my pieces for me if I wasn’t quick enough to move them myself.

That day I spent over three hours in the tea shop losing almost every game I played, drinking tea and laughing with new friends. In Iraq, it’s normal to sit down and help strangers or foreigners with anything, even something as simple or insignificant as a board game.

And this friendliness isn’t just occasional. It’s a quality they practice daily. The Iraqi people really understand the value and importance of relationships. The culture here is saturated with qualities of hospitality and friendliness to strangers and friends, and I’ve recognized this level of love and friendliness as something I hope to adapt in my own life.

Adam is spending his summer using words and writing to connect hearts and minds to children with CHD. That means poring over newsletters, blog posts, and photo captions to make sure these children are heard and that they get their shot at surgery. When not buried in metaphor, Adam enjoys playing the violin, hiking, and photography. He's also on Twitter @adamhallbrandt.

How I Went From Included To Invested In Waging Peace In Iraq | An Intern’s Perspective

July 11, 2011 by Anton · Comments Off 

The definition of the word include is to place in an aggregate, class, or category. Being included is easy. I can be included in a conversation by merely being present at the right time or place. I can be included on an email chain even if I have no desire to be. I can be included in a church body or an organization without so much as lifting a finger.

The definition of the word invest is to use, give, or devote (time, talent, etc.), as for a purpose or to achieve something.

The main difference between involve and invest is the outcome of the action. Many times I have been involved in a conversation and have never invested my opinions, thoughts, or attention to reaching any outcome, let alone a positive one.

Many people talk about peace in the Middle East as if it is just going to happen. I, myself, was a member of that group. I talked about it, but said nothing of how or in what way I could make a difference. We do this because it feels good to be included. People everywhere include themselves in one people group or cause in order to gain identity. But real identity grows out of investment. And investment grows out of involvement.

My personal investment in the promotion of peace in the Middle East grew out of my involvement with the Preemptive Love Coalition. I first became interested when I met Cody Fisher, and he told me about his passion for the Iraqi and Kurdish people and the work Preemptive Love does to promote peace between communities at odds.

My involvement grew as I learned more about them and heard of their summer internship program. It slowly turned into investment over the course of the next year beginning when I liked their Facebook page. It grew when I would occasionally repost something that they put up and tell my friends about this awesome non-profit. This investment was nurtured through prayer for peace, and began to blossom when I applied to the internship program.

Now I am even more invested in promoting peace and spreading love (through graphic design) to a people who have suffered brokenness and hate for generations. It is through this I am beginning to see my true identity. I see where I fit into the picture, and I’m excited to watch that picture come together.

I’ve now been in Iraq for 5 weeks working as a design intern for Preemptive Love, and I’m amazed to see how many people want this peace that we sometimes talk so flippantly about. The best part is that it isn’t the unachievable fantasy I used to believe in. All it takes is a little investment. A dollar here, a tweet or status update there. Involvement can grow fairly easily (and sometimes unbeknownst to us) into investment. For me it started with a conversation and developed into a commitment.

By reading this entire post, you’ve already been included. Why not take it a step further?

The Coalition does not exist without YOU. Together we are mending hearts. Together we are waging peace. Click “Donate Now!” and continue to INVEST in the future of Iraq.

Anton Warkentin is a graphic design intern for PLC (‘11) from Chapman University in Orange, CA. He spends his days in the office working on PLC’s brand & identity, apparel, advertisements and much more, and he considers this work to be a fusion of his two great passions: design and serving GOD. A slightly less important fact about Anton: his fraternity’s mascot is a unicorn, which also happens to be his favorite animal.

In A Word: “Daily Square”

July 7, 2011 by Lydia · 1 Comment 

The Daily Square is a compilation of photos from Remedy Mission VI in southern Iraq. For more Daily Squares, check out PLC’s Facebook page.

Lydia Bullock wrote and photographed for us during the 2010 summer internship and then again for 7 months in 2011. She documented surgical missions in northern and southern Iraq. See more of her excellent work on our Flickr stream, or follow her on Twitter: @lydiabullock.

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OUR BLOGGERS

	Matt Willingham is the PLC press secretary and writes primarily on politics, history, general updates and visual peacemaking through photography and film.
	Cody Fisher is a PLC cofounder and writes primarily on program development and peacemaking by giving us a lens into the lives of the real people we love.
	Jeremy Courtney is a PLC cofounder and writes primarily to emphasize our vision and values, including organizational and financial transparency.

Preemptive Love Coalition provides lifesaving heart surgeries for Iraqi kids in pursuit of peace between communities at odds. We offer the 30,000 Iraqi children suffering from life-threatening heart defects a chance at the surgery they need to save their lives. With our world-class international surgical partners we create long-term solutions by training local Iraqi doctors and nurses so they can sustainably save lives without our help.

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