Babylon by Bus
They went in the first quarter of 2004, when Iraq was under the watch of Paul Bremer and the Coalition Provisional Authority, when the chaos still appeared quellable. Neumann, 28, and LeMoine, 25, friends from the east-coast punk scene, had spent the last few baseball seasons hawking yankees suck T-shirts–a fad they invented–at Fenway Park, using the money to get loaded, gamble, and travel the world in the off-season. But after the Red Sox lost the American League pennant to the Yanks in 2003, they decided a lifestyle change was in order. Their half-baked plan: to see the war on terror for themselves. “We combed humanitarian and Non-Governmental Organization websites, searching for jobs,” LeMoine writes, “but they only wanted Ph.D.s. Instead of applying online for a job half a world away, we decided to apply in person.”
Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
That said, “it’s not accurate to pretend Jeff and I were simply two do-gooders trying to help babies in the third world,” he adds. “Ever since high school, when I’d first gone to Tijuana . . . I’ve had an attraction to the darkest corners of the world. During Iraq’s looting, the thought of loading up a stolen Lamborghini with Persian rugs and Baathist booty had crossed our minds. Stupid, I know.”
In short order they find themselves a job coordinating the 300-odd NGOs attempting to foster a civil society in Iraq and learn how American bureaucracy hog-ties any potential good works in red tape. Granted access to a stash of undistributed donations, they take matters into their own hands–driving to Sadr City, for instance, without protection or weapons to distribute clothes and shoes to orphans. Somehow they impress the right officials and end up with quarters in the Republican Palace. They christen their organization the Humanitarian Aid Network of Distribution, or HAND–“so that we could have HAND jobs every day,” explains LeMoine.
The authors don’t exactly suppress their left-leaning politics (though just facing the facts of this war is lefty at this point), but politics take a backseat to their escalating desire to help the Iraqi people–and their escalating despair of being able to do so. Though their reverence for their own irreverence can be trying–sometimes it seems like the two will throw themselves in harm’s way for the sake of a good story to tell at the bar–their cavalier stupidity can pass for bravery under low light. Like everyone from the sheikhs to the flacks, they’re doing the best they can to keep their heads above water in a boundless sea of havoc. In the end their approach makes as much sense as any other.
