One of the journalists had a gift for me: the group photo of last year’s training. Nabaz Rostam from Kirkuk kindly wrote all the participants’ names on the back of the bad print of off, but the Arabic characters of the Kurdish language are all Chinese to me. Most of the men in the photo are in my course again, although reading their news stories you wouldn’t think they have had tonnes of training, not just from me. Working here is taking two steps forward and one back.
 
It’s the last day of the course, so it’s high time for the traditional Iraqi picture: group photo’s with serious looking faces in various combinations. I have an entire collection by now. They just love taking group photos and they all insist on having their own double portrait with me. At some point I have to say no as they can’t get enough of it. Would the Japanese do the same, I wonder.
 
The Iraqi’s, Arabs and Kurds alike, love their photo’s being taken. Kurdish couples often go to the photo shop on their wedding anniversary for a glamorous picture. Whether we walk into a bakery to look at how the sweet honey dripped pastries are being made, admire the colourful clothes in the bazaar, each time we’d like to take a photo just of the shop and its typical goods, the owners signals us we have to take his photo.  Back straight, a little tug to straighten their shirt, a serious face and  ready!
 
I don’t want to be locked into their group for too long, their body perfume is no Chanel. While I’m writing this in between courses my translator walks in and I’m relieved to see that after four days he has finally changed his red t-shirt for a clean shirt.
 
What would they do with all these extremely dull pics? Foreigners are warmly welcomed and anything coming from abroad is deemed good. It’s nice to be respected, but I’d wish modelling wasn’t part of the job!