I've wondered about people from high school and stuff like that but I've certainly wondered about Iraqis I met in Mosul.

There was this middle-aged woman who spoke decent English and would often bring her (approx) 12 yo daughter with her. She mostly did laundry and cleaned halls and bathrooms and stuff.

There was this 30-ish yo man who was our barber. One time he was telling me how thankful he was for us being there and employing him because it allowed him to make enough money to get married. Another time he was telling me how when we searched Iraqi houses they would get a little mad and it would remind them of Saddam but that when they found that they were treated with respect, their belongings not wrecked, and that we left them in peace it actually became a positive experience. We left that compound (The Mosul Hotel), giving it back to Iraqi control and he struggled to find new work for abit. I was happy to see him working on an actual coallition compound before I left.

There are others but there is one in particular that inspired me to write this because yesterday I discovered that his last words and execution by terrorist insurgents is posted on Ogrish for the whole world to see. We called him Speedy. Why? I don't know. Maybe his apparent energy. He was one of our translators. I had been told that he spoke many languages. He actually had a childlike quality. I remember once asking him some questions about how Iraqis felt about Saddam and the US. I can't recall exactly what he told me. I don't know what kind of familly the man may have left behind. In fact I really don't know much about Speedy. I do know that there are people who deserve far worse than Speedy received and I hope that they find it in this life or the next.

Sometimes.

Usually though I wonder how many people know me. There was this one time when I met some guy who knew me but I didn't know him.

All the time. Lived and went to school in another country for 3 years. Had some really good friends. Fallen out of touch with all of them...

Many times... ever since I left grade school in my home town I heard some pretty bad things that my friend told me happened to the people I knew.

That's such a shame to hear, Wookie. Meeting someone who you'd helped so much and then to find that out...

I've heard stories about people I went to school with - someone I heard recently is in prison, a couple have kids already, mostly everyone is just plodding along with life though.

I try to keep in touch, but I'm pretty poor at it. Then again, it isn't just me.

One of my high-school friends, one of the twins that I knew, he was doing his compulsory armed-service this summer when he fell violently ill and had to be hospitalized. High temperatures and some kind of brain infection (?). It was apparently touch and go for a bit, and he was on a very expensive medication (100's of €'s a day) which the government was fortunately able to compensate (yay public health). I felt very guilty for finding this out just about a month ago from another friend who just recently finished his armed service. I've had his phone number all this time, but I haven't once even received or sent an SMS since graduation.

One thing I have noticed by growing up in different places is that no matter where you are, people always fill the same archetypes. There's always the attention-addict, the clown, the slut, the airhead etc. It's a bit creepy, partly because when you've just moved again you yearn for familiarity, but pretty much no matter where you go, what continent you're on, what language they speak, people are the same, have the same aspirations, desires and fears.

Wow Wookie. That is saddening. I hope he is remembered.

I knew many people from a long time ago. It saddens me that some of them now take drugs and smoke. I would have never thought they would turn their life toward such a direction, but I guess I never thought of such a reality they would live in when I was younger.