Hshe obtained, a more unique than rare case, the title of “Honorary Man” granted by none other than the Iraqis, and it amused her. Honorary man his autobiography in English is called. But then Anna Prouse, Milanese, even if globetrotter with residence in Californiafor Italy he chose a title that best represents it: Of my war, of my peace (Harper Collins). It collects experiences that would be enough for many lifetimes: reporter, Red Cross volunteer in Iraq, consultant for the Italian and American governments in Baghdad and in Nasiriyah from 2003 to 2011, where she worked on reconstruction, an expert in terrorism, restless, until she understood her place in the world.
Anna Prouse, a hundred lives in one
He will talk about it on Saturday 25 November in Florence at festivals”Women’s Legacy“. «In the war», and thus explains the title, «I found my peace». Her story has the rhythm of a novel, of an adrenaline-filled fiction, and nothing is banal and “normal”, not even the relationship with her mother (terrible) and her love with Matt, who later became her husband . He went through history with a capital S and often faced death. You know very well that she is alive, but you remain in suspense as you read her pages about the threats, the attacks, the near-drowning in the Euphrates, the river-god. A reckless life, more than the one sung by Vasco Rossi, a life “like those in films”, which she defines, with a certain understatement, as “eventful”. You are a special type, otherwise you would not have been nominated Knight of the Republic nor would you have been received (and praised) by Pope Ratzinger. But when it was her turn to touch the Pontiff’s ring with her lips, she confesses that she thought irreverently of the Disney scene in which Robin Hood, kissing King John’s hand, takes the gem away from him.
No weapons or angry looks
Her reminders to the soldiers who were supposed to protect her are legend. What did she want them to do?
«They had to play football with the kids in the street while I was in a meeting, joke with passers-by, be polite to women and accept a cup of tea. I don’t want to see displays of weapons, brute force, angry expressions. It was my protocol.”
Have you had any problems as a woman?
«They put me to the test. You have to have courage to stay there, you have to appreciate their lifestyle. We often say “we will do”, “we will listen” but then it is not true. I joined families, I met wives and children, I went to weddings. I avoided judging. In a world of militaries and conservative Muslims, I didn’t cut my hair or cover my head. I bought some gold ballet flats so I wouldn’t have to wear combat boots. I put plastic flowers in my bulletproof vest to accentuate my femininity and make myself more accessible, to win people’s hearts.
Health as a means of persuasion
What happened to that jacket?
«I kept a studio apartment in Milan. I always said to myself: if everything goes wrong I’ll come back here. A few days ago, in the closet, I found an old military backpack. Inside was the jacket. My husband said, “You left him in Iraq, they didn’t let you fly him in.” And I said: “No, because I would have gone to hell to keep it”. Seeing him was a moment of intense joy. He was there, with my war gear and the flowers all crushed. It’s symbolic. Too often even trained people forget the human side: pull up a chair, drink some tea, listen.”
Why did you focus on “health diplomacy”?
«Nothing better than health programs to involve people and win them over. The terrorist says: Westerners are scum. Let’s show them that this is not the case. We did it with the mobile surgical unit. To operate, and to teach Iraqi doctors how to deal with harelip, one of the most common malformations. When the Smile Train team arrived on April 1, 2008, I said: «Zero deaths!». Families or clans of people who die under the knife demand immediate compensation (this is called blood money). Iraqi doctors often refused to operate, terrified of revenge or requests for money. But it went well. We had pink sheets with blue flower designs and hung red balloons. There was a joy that they had never seen there. The Smile Train team had colorful surgical masks and teddy bear caps to make the children feel comfortable. On the first day, more than 500 patients arrived for screening. One hundred and eleven operations, and no one died. After that, they didn’t want to leave. They had never been treated with so much love. There were those who came back to help us. A father came to play the violin for the new patients every evening. We had managed to warm the hearts of a people.”
The transition of the torturer who killed him
How did you try to help women?
«Teaching the ABCs of how to treat yourself and avoid serious illnesses. It wasn’t easy. They couldn’t go out on their own, so I thought of creating a female taxi company. It seemed like a fantastic idea, I had managed to convince the men. It was a fiasco (women didn’t trust women as drivers) and also an important lesson: you can’t force times.”
But she managed to get them out to see a movie. It worked?
«That yes: The death of the swamps. I got the permit in exchange for a generator. It was an unprecedented situation and the women, wrapped in their black chadors, were afraid of getting into trouble even though they had been authorized. Then they started talking, interacting with the narrator of the documentary, it was touching.”
Is it true that he converted a torturer?
“Abu Lika’a was such a joyful boy! I didn’t understand how he could be ruthless. Maybe ferocity was all he had ever known. I played with Legos as a child, but maybe he didn’t. Compassion, not torture, was the way forward. It was never something I told him. He got there just by observing. When he told me, proudly, that he had started walking through the markets, chatting with passers-by and merchants, and stopping to drink tea, like I did, I understood that the transition was underway. He became a precious ally. And for his rebellion against the role they had assigned to him he was killed.”
Against terrorism, create jobs
What does it mean to rebuild? What did your experience in the Dhi Qar region (one of the 18 governorates whose capital is Nasiriyah) teach you?
«That you have to give hope, that is, work and a future. From Italy I brought in a milk factory, a date processing unit and beekeeping equipment. They had buffaloes and milk but without refrigeration to transport it, machinery to filter it and turn it into cheese, it ended up deteriorating. There was no shortage of dates, yet they imported them from Saudi Arabia. We wanted to make Dhi Qar not only independent, but help it become an exporter.”
You also tried it in Mozambique, working for multinationals. How did she go?
Creating jobs is essential to avoid recruitment by terrorists. Boredom, poverty, no faith in the future would have favored the jihadists. In Mozambique, I was struck by the lack of foresight of multinationals. Kicking out fishing families along the coast and relocating them inland to make room for offshore platforms was a recipe for disaster. Trying to offset that by building a school or clinic here or there would only increase the discontent. I would have liked to do what I did in Nasiriyah, but my recommendations probably ended up in the trash. Preachers and recruiters arrived. By 2017 my fears were confirmed. Mozambique is yet another African nightmare, the new hideout of terrorists. She left the multinationals, and Google. You call it “getting off the train”.
What does it mean?
«I get off the train when I’m not in tune. But I’m always ready to get back there. In the evening, Matt and I stare at the globe, wondering where the next train will take us. I can’t wait”.
© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
iO Donna © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED