In A Word: “Mend”
November 30, 2011 by Lydia · Leave a Comment
To see more by Polish artist/cartoonist Pawel Kuczynski, go here.
| 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. |
Why Generosity Is Another Sign of Health in Iraq
November 10, 2011 by Cody · Leave a Comment

It was a few weeks back that I received an e-mail from a captain in the Pakistani military. His son, Mohammed, had a heart defect and he was looking for a way to save him. He was willing to travel anywhere and cross any border if it meant fixing Mohammed’s heart.
Is there anything you wouldn’t do for your son?
Other countries had offered to accept Mohammed for surgery, but the cost was high. Then he heard about the Remedy Missions taking place in Iraq and the opportunity for his son to be saved by the hands of Iraqi and American surgeons. Up until now, thousands or Iraqi children were sent outside Iraq to be saved in other countries, but a child hasn’t ever been brought into Iraq for this kind of surgery.
Mohammed would be the first.
While other countries saw Mohammed’s surgery as another financial transaction, the Ministry of Health in Iraq removed every barrier that stood in their way and brought them to this Remedy Mission.
Yesterday, I stood in the hallway talking with Mohammed’s dad and he brought up the name of our coalition, Preemptive Love. He started to share what that meant to him and his family and then he told me, “I believe that this act [preemptive love] is what we were created to do.” He went on to share how he’s been thinking about it and trying to understand how his life could reflect it even more.
We kept talking as his son was playing soccer in the hallway, and then it struck me in a whole new way just how much a single act of love can impact a life. The doctors in Iraq could have turned them away. They could easily have justified it with their own backlog of thousands of Iraqi children waiting in line for surgery. But they didn’t. They welcomed him in and received their very first international patient from outside Iraq.
Talking with the local doctors here, it’s obvious that this surgery has helped them change the narrative of healthcare in Iraq. For so long they’ve only been on the receiving end. They’ve always been the ones asking other countries to help their children. This was their chance to give back.
Now they were able to even show their own people that, one day, Iraq can be a place where others come for help.
In a few hours, Mohammed will be the first international patient to be treated inside Iraq.
Stay tuned!
Our Partners:

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Cody Fisher is the co-founder and Development Director of the Preemptive Love Coalition. He moved to Iraq in 2007 where he met his wife and since then they've been waging peace and mending hearts across Iraq. His passions are photography, peacemaking, and food that doesn't come out of a can. You can follow him on Twitter: |
An Interview With Artist Ben Hodson (And A Video Of His Work)
September 3, 2011 by matt · 2 Comments
Last month we introduced you to a piece by Ben Hodson, and some of you responded wanting to know more. So Ben shared this video with us documenting how he made the Amna Suraka photomontage.
(HINT: While you’re waiting for the video to load, check out the short interview with Ben below!)
PLC: Start with a little background. What influenced you toward becoming an artist?
Ben: I was born in Brighton, UK into a family with a painter for a mother and a creative entrepreneur for a father. They inspired me to creatively look for solutions to the world’s issues. I moved around a fair bit as a child and even lived in India for a couple of years. These experiences greatly influenced my outlook on life and how I appreciate and view other cultures.
PLC: So where did your interest in Iraq come from? Were you previously interested in Kurdistan before traveling there?
Ben: I have an interest in people–especially people who have a story to tell. The Kurdish and Iraqi stories are surely some of the most defining stories of the 20th and 21st centuries. I have always had an interest in travel and new cultures, and the Middle East has a very hospitable and family-oriented culture, which I like. I also love Kebabs!
PLC: What kind of response have you had to this Amna Suraka piece from Kurds and Brits? Did the exhibit get a good turnout?
Ben: Initially, Kurdish people didn’t respond well to anything with the word “Iraq” in it, but as soon as I spoke to them and explained the relevance and how this draws Brits and Europeans in, they were very positive. It’s a story that most of the West has not heard.
The response [at the exhibit] was very good, hundreds of visitors came to the show, we got numerous feedback comments, we had local and regional press coverage and the curator of the gallery said to me that it was the best show they had ever put on.
PLC: Lastly, would you tell us a little about your work in general and what visual peacemaking means to you?
Ben: I’m interested in ideas of storytelling, narrative, place and location. This is why I went to Iraq. I went looking to explore the story of the Iraq still unseen, to engage with the lives, questions and challenges the media has been ignoring. Though I wanted to tell their story, I soon realised that I could not do this as well as the Iraqi people themselves.
I am not a photojournalist, I do not hunt down the headlines or stop myself getting involved. I am interested in the people, their lives and their stories. I cannot expect people to be affected by what I show them without first allowing my own heart to be broken by what I experienced.
For me, visual peacemaking is about using our creativity to bring about positive change in the world. Specifically bringing peace through all visual means, not just photography. I am an artist, the photography and filmmaking is only part of what I do. Visual Peacemaking could be done through actually showing art; maybe a documentary, an exhibition of art by a misunderstood community, a series of photographs or even a piece of sculpture or installation art. This of course embraces the beauty and common humanity of other cultures, but it also may be in finding healing/understanding in our differences and past hurts.
You can check out more of Ben’s work on his personal website HERE. Thanks for reading!
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As PLC's Press Secretary, Matt Willingham is bent on leveraging words and media to connect hearts and minds to Iraqi children in need. On the side, he likes reading old books, devouring the great food his wife cooks up and dabbling in DSLR video 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. |
Fasting, Faith and Cantaloupe
August 19, 2011 by Lydia · 815 Comments

My dad has a (don’t let him hear you say it) small Ford pickup truck. Despite his affectionate name, “the Big Rig,” his Ford Ranger just couldn’t handle the big leagues. It’s used primarily for carrying salt bags in winter, and it sighs under the weight of mulch in the summer. It was this faithful little truck that showed up halfway around the world yesterday, as comforting and hardworking as always!
Here’s the scene: I’m sitting in the back seat of this tiny, American-made pickup truck, sandwiched between two hijab-wearing women, driven by a man with a scarf wrapped around his head.
I’m with a good friend and her aunt and uncle, driving to pick cantaloupe from a neighbor’s field. It’s an hour ’til sun down and during Ramadan this means my friends have abstained from food and water all day. We’re bumping across this field (the Big Rig doesn’t need roads) and the 180 year-old woman next to me sighs, “Yah Allah” with every jolt. After twenty minutes of ambling around this huge plot of land, we finally arrive at the place where we can pick.
Cantaloupe picking is hard. Every single part of the plant has sticker-y things to keep you away. My attention is divided between defending myself against these thorns and keeping my balance–Iraqi soil is both loose and dry, and each step crumbles beneath me. My Steve Madden flats could not be more out of place.

The sun sets and it’s time to break the fast. We break open a cantaloupe and pass pieces around as her uncle kneels to pray before his God—the simplest and most beautiful celebration of gratitude toward the Most High.
With a truck bed full of fruit, we pile in and turn back toward home. I don’t know if it was the prayer, the shared meal or the father who had to make four U-turns before navigating his way out of this field, but today truly felt like “home.”
| 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. |
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.
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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. |
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?
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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. |
Mohammed’s Here For The Remedy
June 29, 2011 by Alex · Leave a Comment

Today, I hesitated outside the entrance of the hospital ward in southern Iraq. Kids spend most of the day waiting for surgery in this room.
Mothers and their children filled the room, and I didn’t want to barge into a room that these families might have thought were off-limits to outsiders.
But as I stood there, recognizing that I was the outsider, looking confused and out-of-place, a 6-year-old boy named Mohammed walked up, smiled, and took my hand as if he knew exactly what I was going through.
He safely escorted me to the back of the room so I could meet the family I had come to see.
Mohammed never left my side, but just kept holding my hand and making me feel more at-ease until he felt that his duty had been completed.
We couldn’t speak to each other and even though we interacted for only a few minutes, I can’t help but to look forward to spending more time with Mohammed.
What makes me more excited is that Mohammed isn’t just here to help out this goofy foreigner; he’s here to have his failing heart restored.
He’s here for the Remedy.
The doctors are still unclear as to how complicated Mohammed’s heart condition is, but they’re beginning the tests that will help them know what needs to be done to reclaim his heart.
In the meantime, we’ll just keep waiting.
Stay tuned for more updates on Mohammed.
While you wait check out Rokya’s Mom documenting her daughter’s Remedy in Iraq on our Facebook page.
Our Partners:

| Alex Phillips, a two-time PLC summer intern ('10 & '11), has invested his heart into the surgical and medicinal aid available to the children of Iraq, hoping to better understand the complicated ties between poverty and health. On his off days, Alex spends his time reading up on his field, listening to punk rock, riding his bike, and updating his Twitter: @_alexphillips. |
How Caring for Iraqi Children Made Me A Better Father
June 16, 2011 by Jeremy · 1 Comment
It’s interesting how my perspectives on people who are different than me have changed since the run-up to the Iraq war in 2002. I remember sitting rapt in front of the television watching Hans Blix look for weapons of mass destruction. I remember skipping class one Tuesday afternoon and watching coverage of the war, the fall of Baghdad, and the subsequent “Mission Accomplished” speech. I distinctly remember the Sunday night that news of Saddam Hussein’s capture interrupted my weekly viewing of Alias – a spy show that no doubt fed my ambivalence toward the very real people of Iraq.
But when I visited Iraq for the first time three years into the war, at the height of the sectarian violence, I was entirely unprepared for how much I would actually care about the people of Iraq; how much I would be moved and changed by their story.
The single greatest change in my life between that night when we saw Saddam groveling in a hole and the night that I wept bitterly in Kirkuk over nemesis neighbors bent on killing one another was the birth of my little girl, Emma.
I wasn’t ready to be a dad. I loved my young-married life with my wife. She was all I had dreamed about and I loved our freedom. We traveled the world together, listened to music that was actually cool, read books with big words, and enjoyed many long walks and talks without interruption each week. All of that was severely threatened when we found out we were pregnant.
I was excited, but certainly scared – mostly about what bearing this new child would have on our marriage. I wasn’t ready to give up freedom and travel for monosyllabic books like See Spot Run.
But that first day in Dr. Hidayet’s office when we heard Emma’s heartbeat… that was a life-changing moment! And as they wheeled my wife away a few months later on a gurney beyond those double doors in Istanbul, Turkey I was terrified that something would go wrong in this foreign country.
I was actually in the room for my daughter’s birth. I held her within seconds of her first breath. And one of the most amazing moments of my life was the first minutes we had alone together in a Turkish corridor as all the chaos of the hospital disappeared and I watched my daughter look at me for the first time.
I guess my point is this: becoming a father changed me.
So when I arrived in Iraq with my daughter and my wife in 2007, I was not the same person who had watched the news on Iraq with disconnected interested years prior. I was a father now. And with that came a special code of conduct – a code that transcends culture.
I didn’t see “Iraqis” or even “Muslims”. Arabs weren’t “rag heads” like some of my friends and family had suggested. Kurds were not these disempowered mountain Turks that I had grown up seeing with Klashnikovs on CBS News in 1990.
I mostly just saw fathers. Most of the media coverage of our work in Iraq suggests that we are caring for the children of Iraq, healing their hearts, and creating a better future for them. I certainly agree. But I have a slightly broader agenda: I see myself as caring for the fathers of Iraq.
I’ve sat by too many dads as they’ve tried to choke back tears in hopes of remaining strong and faithful to the belief that God is in control. I hate that sound – the sound of grief choking.
So I work each day to care – not only for the children in Iraq – but for the fathers in Iraq, as well. Because I am one. And my caring has actually made me a better father for my own children. As I consider each day how many of my father-friends have lost their little boys and girls, it helps me value every minute I have with my children more deeply. Caring for the fathers of Iraq helps me remember what a blessing my children are to me. I came home from work a little late last Thursday night and spent an extra hour laying in bed with my son telling stories, tickling, and dreaming up imaginary exploits that Batman and Superman together would be afraid to touch – but not us! I spent this extra time with my son because I had a need that only he could fill for me. I didn’t think I was doing him a favor. I was keenly aware that he was making me whole, filling up what was lacking in me after a long day of working for other fathers and their little boys.
The bio sketches of our organization and my role in it will probably continue to talk about the way we’ve changed Iraq by establishing lifesaving heart hospitals across the country through our Remedy Missions. But the truth is even more profound. I am now connected to the people of Iraq as a father and a friend; as a big brother and an uncle that works joyfully in hopes that other people from around the world will come to love them as I do.

I’m not sure yet what my legacy in Iraq will be – if anything. But Iraq’s legacy in the life of my family is clear. This Father’s Day we celebrate how the dads of Iraq have shaped our family and how loving them has brought us closer.
Dad, I love all the great memories we’ve made together. This year, I wanted to add, “saving a child’s life in Iraq” to the list, so that another child and his father can make great memories together too. |
We want to make it easy for you to honor your dad this Father’s Day and help save the life of baby Ghazel. A simple $10 donation will help us save her life and cover the cost of two hours of hands-on training with local Iraqi surgeons! A $25 donation will accomplish that and add hours of training in Iraq for an additional three Iraqi doctors and nurses! If you like, we’ll even provide you with a free downloadable card that you can print and give to your dad this Father’s Day! |
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Jeremy Courtney lives and loves in Iraq as a co-founder and Executive Director of the Preemptive Love Coalition. He's also the father of two spectacular children, and married to the lovely Jessica Courtney. When not absorbed in PLC work he can be found writing songs and singing about hope and future. Follow Jeremy on Twitter: @Jeremy_Courtney. |
Respect
May 22, 2011 by Lydia · 1 Comment

A little bit of respect goes a long way. I’ve never learned that lesson so clearly and so wonderfully as I did tonight at the hospital.
I’m the first girl to travel with PLC into southern Iraq, and the Courtneys warned me ahead of time: southern Iraq is serious about modesty. “Did you know your ankles are ‘sexy’?” Jess joked in an email to me, explaining the need to be covered all the way to my toes. She wanted me to dress in a completely non-threatening way because she wanted the women to be comfortable around me while I interact with and photograph their children.
So I stepped off the airplane in Basra wearing a floor length black maxi dress, a loose, long sleeve black shirt, and a black head scarf. “Arabica?” the woman at passport control asked. Nope. At one point in the 2-hour car ride from Basra one of our security guards turned to me and asked, “Do you wear the hijab in America, too?” He was surprised when I said I didn’t and asked why would I wear it here, then. Jeremy answered: “Respect.”
It was at the hospital that I most understood how beautiful a little respect can be. As I entered the children’s ward I was (predictably) swarmed by precious Iraqi kids wanting their picture taken. From experience I knew their mothers lingered behind doorways, away from the camera. But this time one mother approached me, motioned to her child, and I snapped my camera.
It just took that one and then all of the mothers were clamoring for photos with their kids! They touched my skirt and my head scarf and interrogated me excitedly in Arabic about my outfit. Picture after picture–not only of women but of them smiling boldly at the camera, proud mothers. I have never experienced anything like it and I am certain that my dress had much to do with it.
By letting go of a bit of “me” and taking on a bit of “them” I saw firsthand what an incredible tool respect can be. I’m VERY excited for this week of Remedy–both remedy for the health of these kids and the remedy of divisive misconceptions.
Our Partners:

| 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. |










