I didn’t expect to miss the Hippo.
Currently in the middle of my ninth week of lockdown on the United Nations compound in the Green Zone in Baghdad, there are so many things that I miss from my life back home, beyond the compound gates: Thai food and well stocked grocery stores are just some of them (on my last trip to the tiny shop we have on the compound, I managed to buy laundry detergent and a pomegranate — it was all they had left). And yes, of course, family and friends — although if I’m honest, my loved ones have contacted me more in the last nine weeks than they have the previous 15 years.
But the Hippo — that was unexpected. Here in Iraq, “Hippos” refer not to river-dwelling mammals (the Tigris is hippo-free, as far as I know) but rather to the extra-large armored personnel carriers that are used to transport UN staff to and from the airport. Free of every conceivable comfort, including cushions, seatbelts, and shock absorbers, each Hippo ride threatens to induce nausea as the vehicle laboriously descends into and climbs out of every pothole on the road to the airport. Chipped teeth are a danger as your upper and lower jaw bang together when jolting over speedbumps. The literal roar of the engine makes conversation impossible. People usually look dazed when exiting a Hippo.
Read more on UNOCHA.