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Preemptive Love Coalition Home   Lifesaving heart surgeries for Iraqi children in pursuit of peace between communities at odds.


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Watch Our Animated Manifesto!

April 24, 2012 by matt · Leave a Comment 

Over the last few months we’ve seen an incredible influx of new readers and supporters, so it seemed good to put our most informative and successful video to-date back on the blog.

Whether you’re brand new or if you’ve been here a hundred times, watch it and let me know your reaction. Is it naive? Spot-on? Over-the-top? Email me!

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.

MY TAKE—”Immigrants A Key Step Toward Peaceful Coexistence In Iraq”

March 23, 2012 by Behar Godani · Leave a Comment 

A photo of Michael Dalton dancing with Kurds in northern Iraq.
For millions of immigrants in America,
a sense of belonging and successfully handling their dual cultural identity is one of the most difficult and challenging of tasks. On the one hand, your heart is tied back to a land that was once your home—as is the case with my parents—or at least a place that feels a lot like home—as is the case with my siblings and I.

Yet no matter how many times we go back there or insist that we want to spend the rest of our days here, there never seems to be a perfect fit. There moved right past my parents and the memories they could have made had they not been forced to leave thirty years ago, and here feels much more familiar.

As a result, we’re stuck between here and there, never completely belonging anywhere.

But perhaps the beauty in the limbo that so many immigrant families find themselves in is that they are able to understand and exist in both places at once.

And perhaps that’s where the secret to truly co-existing beside one another lies as well.

A photo of a Kurdish father in traditional Kurdish clothing.
There are immigrants who have walked in our shoes, but there are plenty more back there—in Iraq—who, like my parents, were forced to leave and if they survived were likely to be internally displaced. And that’s where so much of the current resentment lies. It was never truly an ‘us’ vs. ‘them’ mentality in the sense that entire groups of people became alienated from one another. No matter how bad things became in Iraq, there was always a recognition that the majority of its citizens were good people.

Now, many wonder if the country and its people—in light of recent political developments—will ever live up to the potential that so many of its own politicians boast about and so many in the West had initially hoped for.

The key lies not in government policies, per se—which I yield, can at times favor one group over another and further disenfranchise other groups who already don’t feel welcome in the political system—but in all-natural and real human connections. When people can put a face on families affected by violence, when a doctor from a different faith or ethnicity saves a child’s life, when a Muslim breaks bread with a Christian who’s just as Iraqi as anyone else, the concept of “preemptive strikes” and bombings will become just as foreign and distant a concept as they were all those years ago. Then “preemptive love” and a true sense of commitment to the success and prosperity of the Iraqi state for the sake of its people will begin to emerge.

No more will bureaucrats, insurgencies, or fringe groups attempt to dominate the hearts and minds of the people as much as they have in the past because the people, like my parents, will come to learn the importance of existing in the now. They’ll learn that yes, you may have been displaced and you may have lost loved ones like so many innocent Iraqis have, but our humanity and our hopes for a better future must transcend the easy way out which often involves blaming an entire people or religious group for why things are currently the way they are.

A photo of a Kurdish girl in traditional Kurdish grab.
Most immigrants face the challenge of simply reconciling their ethnic identities with their American ones, but families who hail from conflict zones—both those who had an opportunity to escape and those who were forced to stay behind—face the added difficulty of not only staying true to the identity that various groups have tried to wipe out, but also of keeping the anger and sadness in their hearts from ultimately skewing how they view “the other.” That of course can only happen with social projects and movements that focus on bringing different groups together so that individuals can begin to put a face on “that religion” or “that ethnic group.”

Eventually, they’ll come to find—as we all eventually must come to find as human beings—that religion, ethnic identity, the types of clothes a person wears, or the color they choose to dye their hair quickly falls away once that connection is made and “that” person becomes a friend.

Behar Godani is an American Kurd who has spent years as a youth leader in her community working on several projects relating to Kurdish identity and culture. More recently, she helped create the first Kurdish-American newspaper in print. She is both a practicing Muslim and a passionate human rights activist. For more from Behar, find her on Twitter: @BeharGodani.

Tragedy To Triumph—How Preemptive Love Shocked A City

March 8, 2012 by matt · Leave a Comment 

A photo of students gathered at Jeremiah Small's classroom to light candles and lay flowers.
A week ago today our friend Jeremiah Small was killed in his classroom. His own student pulled a gun on him. If you haven’t read about it, see more here.

It happened here in our home city of Sulaymaniyah, and the entire community is still recovering from the shock of it all. Of course, the shock is about the violent death of an American in the oft-touted “the other Iraq” region of Kurdistan, to be sure, but the shock is also about much more than that.

When people in Sulaymaniyah heard that Small’s family was coming to Kurdistan to bury their son, rumors started to fly. Some thought they were coming for financial compensation, others for revenge. And in an eye-for-an-eye culture like this one, rumors like that aren’t crazy. If someone hurts you, you hurt them back. And that’s more than cultural, it’s human nature.

But that isn’t preemptive love.

Until someone is willing to absorb the pain rather than pass it on, violence will only continue to beget violence. Pain has to go somewhere.

A photo of the Small family at Jeremiah's funeral.
So when Jeremiah’s family arrived and began blessing everyone they met, people were amazed! They were grief-stricken, to be sure, but through their great love the Small family proved to be bigger than anything most people had ever seen—they blessed rather than cursed, they sang rather than screamed; their love was furious. They even wore traditional Kurdish clothing in order to show solidarity with the culture.

This was their way of living out preemptive love. Just as Jeremiah worked to love his students first—no questions asked—his family came and loved Kurds preemptively. They were remaking a broken world by choosing to forgive rather than to yield to the endless downward spiral of hate and violence.

A photo of Jeremiah's family embracing the family of Beyar.
Perhaps the most compelling example of this love was at the funeral when both the family of Jeremiah and the family of the boy who killed him embraced (pictured above). They absorbed the pain—shared it even—rather than lashing out at each other.

This is preemptive love. This is the lifestyle we believe everyone can (and should) live by. This is the better way, and the Small family used Jeremiah’s death to show us that.

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.

How I Was Totally Wrong About Dads In Iraq

February 28, 2012 by matt · Leave a Comment 

A photo of an Iraqi father with his baby in need of heart surgery.
At best, fathers in Iraq are semi-absent. At worst they’re fully absent, off spending time with friends and neglecting their family.

Or at least that’s what I thought two weeks ago.

Before Remedy Mission IX, my perceptions of Iraqi dads were pretty negative. And they weren’t entirely unfounded. Having lived in Iraq for a year now, I’ve met a number of dads who spend a lot of time away from their family, and it was hard for me to understand.

So I assumed that these fathers didn’t care. Why else would they be so absent?

The key word in that last paragraph, though, is “assumed.” I applied my own cultural understanding to contexts that demanded further explanation!

A photo of a little Iraqi baby boy in his father's arms.
What if these fathers are away because that’s how much they have to work to put food on the table? What if they’re ashamed to come home because they can’t put food on the table? How could the handful of fathers I know here even begin to represent all of them? And this is probably most important question: since when did I become the time-keeper for fathers in Iraq?

I started asking questions like this at the beginning of our ninth Remedy Mission after I watched an Iraqi father cry over his child’s desperate need for surgery. It threw me off, and I thought he was the rarest man in Iraq I’d ever met.

But then another man wept for joy in front of me that same day when his child was accepted for surgery.

A photo of a little boy with his father kissing him on the forehead.
One father was able to calm his shrieking son just by whispering sweetly in the child’s ear. The boy was even giggling by the end of his echo!

Then another man wouldn’t stop holding his daughter after surgery, as though she might break if he let go.

One dad begged me for more photos of his child in surgery—each new glimpse bringing him to tears!

Another persistent father was constantly fretting over his daughter and would grab my sleeve and ask me questions like “Is it OK that she is coughing a lot?” or “When can she eat? How much? What should we give her? When?!”

One father enthusiastically shared his son’s story on-camera.

A photo of Hussain and his father after Hussain's diagnostic catheterization.
And, for me, this became the theme of Remedy Mission IX: fathers who desperately love their sons and daughters.

I’m honored to have met them. They changed my perspectives for the better and showed me something beautiful.

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.

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 

A photo of Mohammed kicking a ball in the children's ward.
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:
Iraqi Ministry of Health International Children's Heart Foundation Living Light International

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: @candmfisher.

An Interview With Artist Ben Hodson (And A Video Of His Work)

September 3, 2011 by matt · Leave a Comment 

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!

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 

Dr. Novick works his magic as local Iraqi surgeons look on.

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 · 804 Comments 

A Kurdish mother picks cantaloupe from a field

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.

Breaking open a Kurdish cantaloupe after a long day of fasting.

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.

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.

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