ON THE USNS COMFORT IN THE NORTHERN ARABIAN SEA, 4 April 2003 — Lt. Ramzy Azar joined the Navy because he wanted a career in emergency medicine, specializing in international disasters and public health. He said he chose the military “because it is always at the forefront of disasters, whether man-made or natural.” It was the Navy, he said, that fitted the bill and could best benefit him professionally. But interviewing POWs (Prisoners of War) was the last thing he ever imagined he’d have to do on board. News that his ship, the USNS Comfort, would be sailing out to the Gulf took some adjusting to, Azar told Arab News.

“I had a lot of thoughts and mixed feelings about coming out here, but this is what I signed up to do. I was excited to work as an international public health specialist, but never imagined I would be used as a translator.”

He laughs and says this was his own fault. While working at Bethesda Naval Hospital, where the USNC Comfort is attached, Azar let it be known he would like to use his language skills. (Now 30, he was born in Lebanon and left the country with his parents and sister during the 1976 war.)

At Bethesda Hospital, Arabic was rarely needed. “I only used it a few times with the occasional diplomat who came in for a hospital stay,” he recalls. Things changed when he was flown out here in early March, and word soon got around he spoke Arabic. “As the need for a translator increased, the more work I had to do.”

When the first group of POWs arrived, Azar said he wasn’t prepared and didn’t know what to expect. “I thought I would just be doing my job on board, which was to protect the ship from communicable diseases and the eventuality of bio-terrorism.”

Azar also had his doubts about translating, unsure as to how he would be received by the Iraqi prisoners when, after all, he’s an Arab American. And he was concerned about his Lebanese dialect, which was different to theirs. “I was apprehensive as to how they might receive me,” he admits.

The tone, he said, was set as soon as he met the men and said: “Assalam alaikum.” Azar says: “Their responses surprised me. It wasn’t that I didn’t say it properly, or that my dialect was wrong, but the response that happened was that — I instantly put them at ease and in a comfortable environment.”

Azar said the men were in pain, desperate and confused, and had no idea what was happening to them.

“As soon as I spoke to them, I saw a change in their demeanor, and saw them relax.”

This ability to help is what Azar enjoys most about translating: “Every time I speak to a patient I have the same experience, it’s the pleasure of seeing them become more comfortable.”

Azar says an emotional attachment instantly takes place between him and the men. “There’s an immediate cultural bond. To them, I’ve become like a brother, and I’m their advocate. I’m the one looking after their wellbeing. And, because I am the person dealing with their pain and anxiety, it immediately becomes personal.”

As with many people of the USNS Comfort, Azar said he views this as part of his work. “As health providers are trained to be caring, that’s our job.”

But he admits it has not been easy: “It’s been a learning and growing experience for all of us. Our instinct and personality is what defines it. The state of war is really a personal moving force. I think we’ve all experienced that. What it does is make us aware of the reality of the situation, which is the definition of war and death.”

Azar said it’s also difficult, as he must keep up his guard with the POWs. “I’m always second-guessing someone’s motives. You’re second-guessing that person and yourself. You start to ask yourself: ‘Why, all of a sudden, am I suspicious of that person? Why do you need to be suspicious?’ As we know, as military personnel, whenever you are a POW, the goal is to get out, escape and evade.”

He said the nurses and doctors also struggle to deal with these new circumstances. “They’re used to patient care in a non-war type setting. This is a learning experience to a lot of people.” Help came from those who had served in the 1991 Gulf War. “One nurse is here from that war. He’s working down in the ward, and has an amazing perspective on the POWs. He’s tolerant, but more guarded, and irrelevant to age or sex.”

This was something he said he wouldn’t have picked up on his own: “I learned it from those who deal with POWs on a regular basis.”

As a result, Azar said: “It’s a personal struggle for all of us to adjust to that mindset. We want to care for them, and do what’s best for them. But we also need to ensure that we are protected.”

For this reason, he said the decision was made to soon bring 24 military police on board. “Because we anticipate more POWs will be coming on board.”

Azar said they also need more translators. Currently there are only two men on board — Azar and a American-Moroccan — that could speak with POWs. Both men translate for both the POWs and the “civilian/detainees.”

Many of the civilians are women and children who Azar and others suspect were caught in the crossfire.

“The hardest part is when you deal with a young child it is difficult to reassure them. With the younger patients I feel it’s okay to drop my reserve. But I still have to remind myself to be careful.”

Asked his feelings about those who say this is a propaganda ploy, Azar said it wasn’t his problem. “I can’t convince anyone who is skeptical of us as to why we’re doing this. It’s the patients who could convince anybody of their gratitude to us for saving their lives. I am absolutely sure that, with the Iraqis on board here, that they are grateful. I hear it everyday; I hear their wishes of God’s blessings on us everyday. They bless the doctors, the nurses, the corpsmen and even the security force — all of us, every day.”

Through their conversations, Azar said they have found “an interesting assortment of detainees and POWs,” including a husband and wife, a brother and sister, and a father and son.

But Azar said these discoveries have also proven to be heartbreaking: “Because they’re looking for reassurances from us that their loved ones are also here. But when you have to say that you know their wife is here, but don’t know where their sister is, it’s heartbreaking. On one hand, it gives them hope in their lives, but it may also mean they have lost a child or a sister.”

Nurses come to Azar for advice. “They are very interested in treating the POWs, and want to help them very badly. It’s quite an experience for me when I walk up and see them sigh in relief. There are times I have to explain things to the nurses — not only words but also cultural issues to help them.”

One such example, he said, is of a young woman who wanted to pray. “She needed to wash herself and then asked for a scarf. I used a pillowcase, and then — because we can’t use pins — taped it underneath her chin, so she could pray. It was a very humbling experience and quite a lesson on culture and religion.”

She also requested a Qur’an, which he said he finally found for her, but it was an English translation with the Arabic text.

“She opened the book and was confused, and wanted to know why the back was in front and the front was in back. I had to explain to her that she had to take it and read it from the other side.”

The young woman prays on a regular basis, but because there aren’t any clocks in the ward, Azar wrote the prayer times down for the nurses to let her know when to pray. Significantly, Azar said none of the POWs have asked him if they could pray. But speaking with the Iraqis has given him a keen sense of appreciation for Islam.

“The Muslim culture is really a beautiful culture. It has a lot to offer. And I’m reminded of the beauty behind family unity, structure, closeness and brotherly love. I’m also reminded of the power of faith,” said Azar.

“As Christians, we are taught to love every man, whether he is our enemy or not. And as Christians, we are taught to depend on the divine. As we interact now with the Iraqis, I realize that their faith is a powerful thing. To them, faith in their religion is part of their everyday lives... The best way I have found to be able to connect with these people is to share that faith,” he said.

He gave the example of a POW who was going to have an operation. He told Azar he was scared and unsure that he would survive the operation. “He asked for a sheet of paper because he wanted to write down his address, so that if he died, his body could be returned to his family. I decided not to do that, because we all knew he would make it through the surgery. What really seemed to work is when I turned around and told him that God is Great, God is in control and loves him and he will make it through the surgery. Those words put him at ease.”

Azar said that as a clinician, he has learned that the best way to treat these people is through this venue of faith. “And I’m talking to them on a more faith-based level.”

As a result, Azar has found this experience has also affected his faith and reminded him “that there is only so much control that we have in our lives. As Americans, we want a lot of control, I am reminded to depend a lot more of my faith as a result of this experience.”

On another level, Azar said he is proud to serve his country as an Arab American. “I believe in what my country is doing as far as recognizing who Saddam Hussein is and realizing the potential of a good life for the Iraqi people.

“But the ‘good life’ can be such a topic for argument. We don’t want to impose on them views of what the ‘good life’ is, and I don’t think that will happen.”

Azar said he is concerned about the effect the 12-year sanctions have had on the general health of the Iraqi people. “I would like to see improved progress and improved health and an improved social-economic status for that country, which would mean that they would all enjoy a better life.”