Kibbeh

There are only some men in life who die only to be born again: Jesus and all those who go to war and come back. The only difference between Jesus and those warriors is that Jesus came back the same person while these warriors are unrecognizable from their past selves. And as Jesus broke bread with his disciples so to did the disciples of war break peace and eat of the local foods. Some found the new local tastes to be exotic and delightful while others found these tastes disgusting and could not deign on the delights of war.

I loved the delights of war. The tastes, the smells, the texture were all new and exciting to me. Maybe it is because I was young when I first went over to Iraq and naïve, that I found the tastes of Baghdad to be so exciting. Whatever the reasons for my new found love of Baghdad cuisine, I came to love a meat rolled dish called kibbeh. Kibbeh is a hodgepodge of meat. Most recognizable in its rolled torpedo shape, kibbeh is also sometimes shaped as meatballs. A main stay of Middle Eastern cuisine, kibbeh can be found from Lebanon to Iraq. There are few things that the Israelis and the Arabs share, but each cultures love of kibbeh is one of those things. If the Israelis and the Arabs can agree on how great kibbeh is, you know kibbeh has to be something special.

When I was first introduced to my new found love, I was throwing a placenta away in a trash bag. The birth of some destitute woman’s baby had gone well and her husband had thought to offer me money as a reward. I flatly refused him. My refusal was not so much out of the generosity of my heart, but rather my belief that 2,000 dinar was not worth my time. I was afraid that the next thing that would happen is that the Iraqis in my district would use me as a cheap and competent medical alternative to the incompetent and costly medical personnel in Baghdad. I neither had the time, the medical supplies, nor the patience to deal with that many people. My job was to take care of the men in my platoon and I was not going to let anything get in the way of my job.

Under the an upturned water bottle I was washing my hands off with antibacterial gel and water when one of the guys said, “Doc, the husband’s comin’ back.” Tapping me on my shoulder he thrust into my wet hands a hot, dripping with juice, paper wrapped gift. “Shukron, Shukron, Docteur,” he exclaimed while kissing me on the cheeks. Rather shocked and disgusted by this display of affection, I looked down at the dripping paper gift and back up at his big toothy grin and thought “Well it can’t be that bad.”

My saliva glands exploded with activity as I chewed my first bite of this delicious Arabic food. The smell of cumin and meat wafted through my nostrils and danced on the back of my tongue with every bite. This meat seemed as if it dissolved in my mouth when I tried to relish the taste. Before I knew it, I had finished the kibbeh.

Unfortunately I could not relish the aftertaste of the meat nor the cigarette that I had just lit because off in the distance a huge explosion was heard. Running back to throw on my gear and come to the assistance of whoever had just been hit, I thought to myself “Maybe if it’s Iraqis, I can get some more kibbeh.” Unfortunately for me, my hopes of free kibbeh died along with the family of Iraqis who were peacefully driving with their children in a van.