Nebraskan cares for Iraq's animals

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By CINDY LANGE-KUBICK / Lincoln Journal Star

Editor's note: As a veterinarian stationed in Iraq, Army Reserve Capt. Katherine Knake of Syracuse sees the war through animals — from the dying chickens of Iraqi farmers to the remnants of Saddam Hussein's former horse herd.

Here is her story, as told to Journal Star reporter Cindy Lange-Kubick.

I live in the middle of Baghdad in a place called the Green Zone. You've probably heard of it. Saddam had some of his palaces here and now it's a big compound with clusters of buildings, like little villages everywhere. My village is called Camp Mancini, a block from the Tigris River.

In my other life I work in Omaha as a small animal veterinarian and my husband, Kurtis, is a lineman for LES. We live in Syracuse with two dogs, two cats, a horse and a bunch of pigs.

Kurt and I met in the Army Reserve seven years ago. He's stationed in Kuwait.

When this is all over and we get home, we want to get on with our lives, settle down and start a family.

I arrived here in November. Our plane landed in the middle of the night. It was colder than I thought it would be and in the morning, when I looked around, three words came to my mind. Flat. Dry. Rocks. It was so brown you could almost taste the dust.

For a minute I wondered why I had volunteered for this deployment.

But things are going fine, the time is just flying by and that's good. I'm part of a public health team. There are nine of us. We spend a lot of time organizing projects, like a vaccination program for livestock and resupplying the national artificial insemination center for cattle, since most of their equipment was stolen after the war started.

Agriculture is big here: dates, wheat, a little bit of corn. Lots of people have animals — cows, some sheep and chickens. It's not like Nebraska, though. Farms are smaller and people live close to their animals, not in the same house, but almost.

Part of our job is making sure projects aren't duplicated, coordinating with other international agencies and reaching out to locals. That part is hard. The Iraqi people aren't used to taking care of themselves; they're used to someone telling them what to do.

The other day we went out to a small farm because their chickens were dying and the farmer didn't know why. I like that kind of work, but my favorite place is the Baghdad Zoo.

We're there once a week helping take care the Arabian horses that belonged to Saddam. Horses in the Middle East are prized possessions and give their owners a lot of status. When I look at them it's like I'm looking at part of history, the way things were before. These horses were better taken care of than most people.

They are such beautiful animals. Once there were 100 horses in the herd and now there are just 19. The rest were stolen after the war started. Or killed by the bombing.

I'm teaching the Iraqis at the zoo basic horsemanship. A group from the states called "Tack for Iraq" is supplying saddles and bridles. Al Abul is my favorite horse. He's a gray dapple stallion. That's him in the picture. He's such a gentle sweet boy.

When things get back to normal here, someday, people can come visit all of the horses at the zoo.

I've wanted to be a vet ever since I was 8. I don't know, animals and me … we just have a connection. They make me happy. At home my animals are my babies. I even give all my sows names. They're like big dogs.

To get to the zoo and the farms we have to leave the Green Zone, through checkpoints and cement barriers and go out into the Red Zone. We wear our body armor and travel in a convoy of armored Humvees. The goal is to keep moving. As we drive we're always watching. The boulevards are wide and the streets are filled with garbage. People are out at the roadside markets buying things. Food and clothing, stuff like that. And we always see lines, miles long, of cars at gas stations waiting for fuel.

I have to admit I get a little nervous going out. It's funny, the more I go out the more nervous I am. I figure I've gotten this far, maybe my luck is running out. Since I've been here there have been three suicide bombings at the outer checkpoints. It's not like I'm scared, though. I look forward to leaving the Green Zone and helping.

That's why I'm here. I like to think that maybe I'm making a tiny difference so the Iraqis, even if it's just a couple people or so, have a little bit better life. I don't want to just "do my time" and not accomplish anything.

Maybe, someday Kurt and I can tell our kids we helped make Iraq a better place.

As the elections get closer I'm getting a little more nervous, wondering what will happen that day. But I'm in awe of how brave some of these citizens are. They work with the coalition to help their country despite the outright threats on their lives. I think we owe it to those people to see this through.

We don't have a dining hall in our camp so I usually eat at the Al Rasheed hotel about a half-mile away. The food is just OK, nothing special. Driving around is surreal because I'm passing all of the areas and landmarks I used to see on CNN.

Since I'm a captain, I have my own quarters, a 12-by-2-foot room in a two-story cement building. I think some of the Republican Guard may have lived here once. I have a window but it's covered with sandbags in case of mortar attack.

At night I watch DVDs on my laptop. "Shawshank Redemption," that's my favorite. I watch it over and over. Most of the time I fall asleep listening to a movie.

I'm supposed to come home late this summer or early fall. Kurt should be home this spring. We have this dream, to buy a farm and raise our family there.

I think about that a lot. When I say my prayers, that's what I pray for.