I want you to look at the most resent photo of Caitlin Jean now two years old, happy, healthy, and very loved. Then read this report below and What you can do to help is pass it on to as many people as possible.

regards
Kerry

Report by Ms. Betty Williams, Nobel Peace Laureate 1967 and President and Founder of World Centers of Compassion for Children International on her December 2002 fact finding mission on the suffering of the children of Iraq.

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On December 17, 2002 at 5:00 a.m. on a cold morning in Rome, Alitalia Flight 8450 pulled away from Gate C3 at Leonardo de Vinci Airport. As we taxied to the runway for take off, I thought of the struggle we had gone through to make this journey a reality. Alitalia was about to go down in history as the first commercial airline to fly into Baghdad in twelve years. Our mission was humanitarian, and we had been cleared by the Security Council at the United Nations to go through the no-fly zone. On board were 32 human beings, 22 passengers and 10 crew, and in the plane’s cargo area, we carried 15 tons of goods for the children of Iraq.

Many people had worked very hard to make this journey possible. Mr. Mengotzzi, CEO of Alitalia, had not hesitated for a second when, a month earlier, I had asked him for an aircraft to carry goods to the children of Iraq. He had simply picked up a phone and a few minutes later he smiled and said, “You have a 747 at your disposal”. We actually flew on a 737 due to the size of our cargo. The time frame precluded gathering enough goods to fill a 747.

We had the plane; we had the goods, now all we needed was permission from the United Nations Security Council to deliver the precious cargo to those innocents who so desperately needed it. Several people told us we would never be able to get clearance from the U.N. I knew we could. It took a few weeks, but our journey was humanitarian and the Security Council granted permission. The plane’s engines roared and we sped down the runway. As we lifted off I prayed God the journey would be a success and all aboard would return safely.

Many reports had reached my desk about the suffering of the Iraqi children. In 2001, 1½ million children five and under had died as a direct result of US/UN sanctions. And, the list of goods sanctioned is at best ludicrous and at worst barbaric. Most of the sanctions prevent desperately needed medicines reaching children. Some are just plain stupid; shampoo, soap, sanitary towels, etc. I enclose a list of the items banned.

Our cargo consisted of blankets, warm clothes, boots, toys, cookies, and some medicines. I knew it would only be a drop in a vast ocean of need, but it was a beginning. Once on the ground in Baghdad we would be better able to assess the situation.

The flight took five hours. During that time I visited with Captain Belloni in the cockpit. It was then I found out he was Alitalia’s Chief Pilot, and that he and his crew were all volunteers. The wonderful cabin staff were actually administrators who had donned their uniforms and were modestly catering to our every need. Bravo Alitalia! Now and again I would look through the porthole and see a white jet trail. We had escorts, but whom? American, British, Iraqi? Until 15 minutes before we touched down, Captain Belloni had no idea where he was to land his 737. Finally the Captain received landing instructions and we began our descent. At 11:00 a.m. Iraqi time we touched down at Saddam Hussein Airport in Baghdad. Every passenger, including myself, applauded and whooped with delight. We had made it!

On the tarmac, we were greeted warmly by an Iraqi delegation including Mr. All Shooker, Iraqi Ambassador to Italy, who had arranged everything on the ground. Before leaving the airport we watched the cargo being unloaded and placed on trucks ready to be delivered to the children’s hospital chosen because it had the greatest need.

We drove through the streets of Baghdad. I watched through the car window people going about their daily business; the business of survival. Women with shopping bags lined up outside grocery stores hoping the store had enough food left when it came their turn to be served. A van passed the car with a sign in Arabic (English translation underneath) reading “Akbars Plumbing”. The van was literally held together by pieces of wire and rope. Bombed out buildings, remnants of the Gulf War 12 years earlier were in evidence everywhere. Houses with boarded up windows still housed families. Unable to replace shattered glass, the families lived in darkness. Electricity was only available a couple of hours every day.

Our delegation met with Deputy Prime Minister Tariq Aziz at the Parliament building. He thanked us for our humanitarian mission and took questions from the press. I waited, aware that my questions could be asked later at a private meeting with the Prime Minister. We know that Iraq has 213 billion barrels of oil in reserve and a food for oil program allowed oil to be exchanged for food. Approximately 50,000 barrels of oil is worth one million dollars. I felt it imperative, because of the lack of medical supplies and the enormity of the death rate of children, we create an oil for medicine program. At the private meeting later Mr. Aziz favored such an initiative. We will be working with Mr. Bianchi, Leader of the Chamber of Deputies in the Italian Parliament, to set up such a program.

Over lunch I spoke with teachers, doctors, business people and several townspeople. As a child growing up in a Catholic ghetto in Belfast, Northern Ireland, I have acquired what’s called ‘the ghetto mentality’. Consequently, I’m not easily fooled. I watched closely for any sign of fear in their eyes as I asked some very deep questions.

“We are caught between two evils”, one woman told me. “We will be innocent bystanders in a war we cannot stop”. A tear rolled down her cheek. “I lost my husband in the Gulf War; I do not want to lose my sons”.

“I have 100 students in my class”, the young teacher told me. The school library has only a few books and it is impossible to get school supplies.

“A clean water supply; we desperately need help to supply clean water to our people”, an elderly engineer told me.

“I don’t care about Saddam Hussein or George Bush”, one of the waiters said. “I just want to live in peace and feed my wife and children”.

No where did I feel any sense of hatred for Americans.

“The American people are not my enemy”, the waiter told me. “I don’t even know who my enemy is any more”.

The hospital visit left every member of our delegation emotionally destroyed. The smell as we entered screamed of bacteria. The sanctioning of soap and disinfectants meant the hospital laundry could not operate and the place was filthy.

At bed after bed I stopped and talked to mothers holding their babies. Every child had varying forms of cancer.

“We need five different kinds of medicine to treat their cancers”, the doctor told me. “The sanctions only allow us two”.

It was hard to keep my emotions under control as I moved from bed to bed. The women had such dignity. In the midst of all the dirt, squalor and pain they sat quietly rocking their babies. One beautiful child’s cancer had metastasized to her face. I took the mother’s hand. A quiet understanding passed between us. I could not hold back the tears we cried together for a little while. No words seemed necessary; we were two women, a mother and a grandmother. There were no politics between us; this was deeper than any politic, it was a womb thing.

In the premature baby unit, tiny morsels of humanity struggled to survive in incubators so old and dirty and full of germs they should have been burnt in a bonfire. Each child had some sort of cancer or horrible malformation.

“Without proper medications I cannot even attempt surgery”, the doctor told me, a John Hopkins trained surgeon working for $100 a month and under conditions so bad they were beyond description. The doctor escorted me to the door when my visit ended. “How many of these children will survive’? I asked. “None”, he said sadly.

I have no political axe to grind, no party politics to play. I only have my truth to tell clearly and distinctly.To attack Iraq would not only be barbaric, it would be inhuman.

Annex I
Partial List of Items Banned in Iraq by the US/UN Economic Sanctions

Agricultural pesticides,        Notebooks       All electrical equipment,        Nylon cloth for filtering flour       All other building materials        Other adult clothes       Ambulances       Oxygen tents       Baby food       Paper       Badminton rackets        Pencil sharpeners       Bandages        Pencils       Blankets        Ping-pong balls       Boots        Polyester and acrylic yarn       Cannulas for intravenous drips        Rice rubber tubes       Catheters for babies        Schoolbooks       Children’s bicycles       School handicraft equipment       Children’s clothes       Shampoo       Chlorine and other water purification        Shirts       chemicals        Shoelaces       Cleaning agents       Shroud material        Cobalt sources of X-ray machines        Soap       Deodorants        Sanitary towels       Dialysis equipment        Specific granite shipments       Disposable surgical gloves        Specific umbilical catheters       Drugs for angina        Steel plate stethoscopes       ECG monitors        Suction catheters for blockages       Erasers        Surgical instruments       Glue for textbooks        Textile plant equipment       Incubators        Thread for children’s clothes       Leather material for shoes        Tissues       Lipsticks        Toilet paper       Medical gauze        Toothbrushes       Medical journals        Toothpaste       Medical swabs        Various other foodstuffs       Medication for epilepsy        Wool felt for thermal insulation       Nail polish        X-ray equipment       Nasogastric tubes        X-ray file

Kerry Bowden OAM
Global Strategic Alliance
One Mind One Voice
A Family of Humanity
www.onemindonevoice.org