I was 21 years old (and looked like I was 16). My best friend (co-worker, who was a spunky Iraqi girl) and I decided to venture out with our company car when our bosses were away in Dubai. I don’t know why I did it, but a part of me always wondered what it was really like in the normal everyday Iraqi places. I’ve been to the military bases and I know what that is like but I wanted to experience the “real” Iraqi experience first hand. I think my crazy idea came from a book I read years earlier when I was 14. I read the book “Black Like Me,” about a white man who decided to change his skin color and live in the deep south to see and truly experience life in a whole other way. My experience lasted less than 2 hours (and thank God this was before all the kidnappings had started in Iraq).

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6 January 2004 - Holly Beth Mann

My Venture Out

My heart was racing and my hands were shaking. I fumbled to put on my scarf while trying to maintain control over the vehicle. Nuha grabbed the steering wheel as I frantically tied the leopard-print scarf around my head. I pulled the dirt-covered Pajero to the side of the road, as Nuha reassured me that I would be ok. She asked me if I wanted to turn back and I said no. I told her I’d feel better if I wasn’t driving, but she didn’t have her license or any driving experience. So, I asked her if she knew the way to the shop and she said she did. I asked her again, making sure there was no way we could possibly get lost. She told me not to worry, and off we went.
The entire ride there, we both thought about every possible scenario and what we would do if something happened; if the car broke down, if we were in an accident and most importantly, if anyone saw us driving out there. We would be in such a world of trouble if anyone knew what we were doing. My boss just hopped a flight to Bahrain for some meetings, so I thought this was an opportune time to do this.
It was a miracle I didn’t get in a car wreck. None of the traffic lights worked because there’s no electricity in Baghdad and everything is run by generators. All I could hear were the sounds of car horns, honking constantly, coming from every direction. I felt panicky and uncomfortable driving. My face felt hot as my nervousness escalated. Nuha kept telling me to stop worrying. I told her that I was so worried because I had a good friend who was killed while driving through Baghdad.
10 minutes later we arrived at the first shop. When I stepped out of the car and walked into the store, I felt so terrified, I stopped breathing and my face became flushed. Nuha spoke to me in Arabic and I just smiled and nodded. I didn’t understand what she was saying and I couldn’t say anything in English.
We left the store to go to another shop. Nuha was friends with the owner, so when we entered the store they began to talk to one another. I stood to the side, praying he wouldn’t say something to me. She then began to whisper something to him. He looked at me and smiled. She told him the secret. She told him I’m American. He offered me a soda and I shook my head no. Nuha told him “No thank you,” from me and he insisted again and I accepted. He invited us to lunch also and offered me a free shirt from his store. Nuha told him I appreciated it. In the end I bought a nice blouse for $20 dollars.
We decided to return to the airport before people became suspicious of us. We had been gone for 1 ½ hours. Nuha and I were so proud of ourselves for what we pulled off. We made it! We laughed and joked about how crazy we were. It was amazing to see the city and the people. I hope someday it will be safe enough for me to venture out without such fear. Inshalla.

I decided to pull over and talk to him. I approached the man and asked him if he needed any help, if he was ok, or if I could do anything. He said nothing. He stared at the ants, not moving a muscle. His hair was long and dirty, he had a long beard, looked like he was in his mid-30s and stunk pretty badly. His legs looked like they had some type of rash or scarring, it was black in color and ants were crawling all over him. He still did not move. I tried to get his attention and kneeled a little lower to try to catch eye contact but it did nothing.

So lastly, I attempted to give him 200 baht (about $6.00 dollars US, which is a lot for Thailand) and he still did not move a muscle. I put it in his shirt pocket. He was wearing a dirty old blue jumpsuit that had a big hole in the crotch, exposing his not-so-private parts! So, the guy was in a rough spot obviously. I thought it could have been quite serious; every possible scenario ran through my strangely concerned mind! I thought maybe he had a stroke, a car accident, brain damage or maybe was just in a deep depression. I thought he was dissociating himself, closing inward and looked as though he was in a near-vegetative state. It was so strange. He seemed to have a peaceful demeanor, and even Josh mentioned that he looked like Jesus. In Josh’s words: “That is God.”

So the next day I returned to the gas station. I saw the day prior that so many concerned people left him food, drinks, bread and fruit. The stuff sat in the exact same position, untouched by him (but covered in ants). His health seemed to be deteriorating as the days past and I drove by him. I felt horrible, as though no one cared and no one would assert enough effort to get him some help (it seemed that he could not get it himself). So after a few days of worrying, I decided to call someone. I attempted to contact the Thai Red Cross by email, but it was returned as an erroneous message. Then I spoke with a couple of Christian friends and I thought they may help. They seemed too busy and so I contacted my mom’s Christian Church that she attended in Chiang Mai. I spoke with a lady who said that someone had just contacted them about the same man. As I was on the phone, they decided to send out a man named Dan. He offers help to people in need around Chiang Mai and I was glad to know that they were going to try to help the homeless foreigner. The Pastor from the Church took my name down and I hung up. I decided to go over there to introduce myself to Dan and to offer some help. I spent hours and hours with Dan and the homeless man.

It became apparent to me that he had a level of awareness; I saw him make eye contact several times, look up at people as they passed by and look at his surroundings. I just wanted him to snap out of this trans-like state he was in. I was honestly afraid that I’d drive by one morning and he’d be lying there dead. I wanted to get him help if he wanted it or could not get it for himself - because he probably has some loved ones somewhere wondering where he is at and if he is ok. So I spent hour after hour with this homeless man, trying to talk to him, trying to communicate and get a response, reaction, get him to drink some water. I was alone with him so many times as Dan and several others hunted around the premises looking for a passport or any ID from this man. When I was alone with him I put my arm around him, I put my hand on his, I told him he could trust me and that I would help him if he could just blink his eyes to tell me ok. Or if he could nod his head to tell me he needed or wanted our help. But he did nothing.

Minutes later, another foreigner pulled up on a bicycle. His name was Matthew and he was a 37-year-old from the UK. Then an hour or two after that, another foreigner (from Italy) and his Thai wife pulled up. They were deeply concerned for this man and said that they stopped by every single day trying to help him. The Italian man was so concerned he said that he spoke with the homeless man so many times, and the last time even became angry and yelled at him, but still not a word was spoken. It was such a long day and just got stranger as the hours past. I spent a lot of time with Matthew, digging through rubble, garbage, dead fish and crap behind where the homeless man was sitting. There was an old shack that used to be a bathroom, so we rummaged through there looking for a passport or any document to show where the man was from. Matthew was very good with the homeless guy, trying to get him to open up to him (or us), joking around with him, pretty much begging him to give us a sign so we can stop worrying about him. We were so adamant about helping him because a Thai woman and another Thai man pulled up and they called the police. So this homeless foreigner was a soon-to-be jail mate in the local prison if he didn’t move his butt off of that gas station premises. We told him that if he wanted to be alone or meditate or live off the land somewhere, that we could take him. We told him we’d take him right away before any police showed up. The guys tried to get him to stand, but he would not. We pleaded with him so many times.

This thai woman was hilarious, she named the guy “John” and kept asking him if he wanted marshmallows or chocolate. She went into the gas station and came out with a little marshmallow snack and tried shoving it in his mouth. She was very rough with that thing. I was getting uneasy watching the whole thing. She pointed out to us and to him that in the Thai culture this just isn’t going to work out for him being there. It’s bad for him, bad for others and the gas station has repeatedly reported him. The cops were coming for him!

I decided to take a couple of pictures of him in case they were needed or to post them online to report this man as “found” or search for missing foreigners in Thailand. For some odd reason when I took his picture the camera gave me an error that said, “Card Error,” and the photos would NOT save.

Then as I sat there with the homeless man and Matthew, we looked up to see yet another man show up. This man was nicely dressed, well-spoken and extremely kind. It turns out that he is the Honorary Consul for Germany (in Chiang Mai). He personally came out to offer help, evaluate the situation and find a solution finally. The homeless man was German, according to some police who had seen him earlier and taken down his details. I spent more time with Matthew and the Consul and he had arranged for the police to pickup the homeless man and transport him to the Mental Institute down the road. There he could get evaluated, treated and a good nights sleep for a few days before taking further measures.

After spending my entire day there, I left to go pickup Josh. I wreaked of this guy, which was not a big deal but I felt so exhausted mentally and physically. Very hungry as well - which is why I can’t imagine being that man, sitting there not eating for so many hours in the scorchingly hot sunlight. After picking up my little man Josh, I was on my way home when I was the lights from the ambulance, police motorcycles, and a big scene with lots of people outside of the gas station. I swung my car around and parked behind the ambulance. I saw that there was a stretcher on the ground placed in front of the homeless man. Immediately the Consul and Matthew approached my car, fuming and shocked with their recent discovery.

Turns out, right as the police were starting to physically remove the homeless man from the curb to the stretcher, he stood up and started speaking fluently and coherently!!! Not only that, but his kind, soft and meek demeanor quickly altered into a snotty, cocky, rude attitude towards the police, the Consul (which is shocking), to Matthew and myself. We were there to help him and gave him every opportunity to tell us to get the heck out of there and leave him alone. He wanted to attention. The German Consul seemed upset and felt bad that we all wasted so much effort and time with this man. I saw him approach the homeless man (with cops surrounding them) to tell him, “Why don’t you say a hello to Holly over there.” It was horrifying and crazy to see him in any other position other than hunched over like a stroke victim on the curb! To see him standing and look right at me while I was holding Josh was really weird. When the Consul told him to say hello to me, the homeless man (his name is Stephen) looked at me holding Josh in arm and waved an evil wave, with one finger at a time and a smug look on his face. I said nothing. I felt angry and tired. Then Matthew approached Stephen and told him to give the 200 baht back to me. As soon as Matthew turned around to walk back to where I was standing, Stephen hit his chest, spread his arounds out and then pointed at his pocket while looking at me. He was basically telling me if I want my money back then I should walk up to him with my son in my arms and grab it out of his pocket. That got me more upset but I just looked at him and did nothing. Matthew told him off a little, advising him that if he’s on some path to being holy that this is not the way to do it. If you are so spiritual you would not be hurting so many people to achieve your own spirituality. I agree with all of that.

So, I felt the need to take his picture because the camera wouldn’t work earlier. I wanted some proof of the crazy day or this man who caused such concern and chaos for the month. So I walked right up to where he was standing, in close proximity I took his picture. My camera once again said, “Card Error.” And the picture did not work or was not saved. So I was really frustrated and to test my camera out I took pictures of other people around there - and every one worked. Every picture worked except for his. So I tried to make a short video and that worked - so I made an image from it.

I just wanted to say that I do not regret offering a helping hand. I know the man was a fraud and taking advantage of the love and care of surrounding citizens. I know he was selfish and rude and deranged in some ways, but what an experience we all had. The Consul said in his 8 years of working in Chiang Mai, he’s NEVER seen anything like this before. I’m happy to have met the Consul, Matthew, the Italian Man and his wife and several other extremely kind and caring people.

She ran up the stairs, she was pretty proud of herself- she said “give me my dollar ! give me my dollar”

I said “nope- and if you don’t stop asking me I am going to tell mom what you did”. Not a very nice brother…

I was the first of 4 to jump that day. The instructor opened the small door of the plane and the wind was insane. Step 1, climb out the door and grab on to the wing strut with 100 mph + winds making the skin on my face flap. Step 2 hang from the strut and look over at the instructor for the thumbs up as I am dangling from the wing. Step 3 … Release ! I remember my neck snapping back as the static line ripped the chute out of my pack.. then I blacked out for a few seconds… then I remember grabbing at my emergency release… I think I was in shock.. then I looked up and my chute lines were twisted- (like a kid that swung in circles on a swing) I pulled the lines apart and everything seemed ok.

After all that it was a hell of a view and a great decent down, floating through the air, it was so quite and peaceful. Adrenaline pumping … As I neared the ground. I had a rough landing - I twisted my ankle and layed on the ground. What a ride.

What if our brains lagged more than a few microseconds ? If the lag is consistent for everyone , no one would notice. What if our brains lagged 24 hours ? If this was the case and I died right now- my brain wouldn’t know it until the next day- but I would be brain-dead now. So my brain would die 24 hours before my life ends and I would never see it coming.

What if our brains lagged until our deaths? Then everything we have done is complied and we realize it then. If this is the case we would have already done all of this.

The future as we realize it is actually the past…

We are all time traveling…

and all of us are already dead…