An Iraqi. A Kurd. A Yezidi. A village Headman. Whatever the label, more than forty years after his birth, this man came home. Only now, after the latest war, does Mr. Qatou finally have confidence in the peace, after more than a half century of life lived under orders or under sentence.

This seemed like the moment to ask the question, "What do you think of the United States?"

"We cry when America loses one soldier. We pray for the soldiers every night."

Many Kurds had expressed the same sentiment. One had said poetically: "For every drop of American blood, we shed one thousand Kurdish tears."

"What do you think about the United Kingdom?" I asked.

"Also very good."

His answer for some of the other countries, those that abandoned his people to get back to their beer and wine, was merely a quick frown followed by silence.