Marla: Mission Continued

Marla Ruzicka, Dec. 31, 1976 - April 16, 2005

It's been one year since a suicide car bomber killed Marla Ruzicka and her colleague Faiz Ali Salim as they were driving along the Baghdad airport road. The date is marked on my calendar. Funny how these scribbled reminders can affect you. You think it's not a big deal -- just a date on the calendar -- and then the day rolls around and you are visited anew by the gravity of the loss.

Marla, of course, has not been forgotten. All year, she's been popping up, making her presence felt in different ways. She was posthumously given a Bridge of Peace award from Global Village Foundation; a fellowship was endowed in her name at Brown University; she even has her own Wikipedia entry, a fact she might have found hilarious. Recently I opened a new collection of photographs called "Unembedded," and there on the title page was a dedication to Marla and Faiz.

"Unembedded" is the visual chronicle of a world with which Marla was intimately familiar: wartime Iraq. There are photos of a father holding the hand of his dying child, bereaved women praying at a mosque, children playing in the street in front of an American tank. There are also scenes of people sharing a meal, dancing at a wedding, swimming in the Euphrates river. Even in a ruined country, people get on with their lives.

A doctor quoted in "Unembedded" says, "War wounds are always multiple wounds." Iraq's war wounds have multiplied in the year since Marla died. The occupation continues, the country still lacks an established government, and civilians are being injured and killed in greater numbers than ever. Abductions are common, mass graves have been unearthed, Iraqi journalists and politicans have been assassinated. Dozens of bodies showing signs of torture are found almost daily on the streets of Baghdad. U.S. troops are still dying, getting maimed, coming home irrevocably damaged. Reconstruction efforts are hampered by the inability to provide security for workers ... the grim litany goes on and on.

I am hard-pressed to find any glimmers of hope in this picture. Yet none of it, I suspect, would have deterred Marla. She had one goal: to lessen suffering. She did this doggedly, radiantly, personally. In an op-ed she wrote shortly before she died, she explained the importance of counting the dead and injured civilians: "A number is important not only to quantify the cost of the war, but to me, each number is also a story of someone whose hopes, dreams and potential will never be realized, and who left behind a family."

This was not just empty rhetoric. Marla wanted to humanize the rising numbers of war, to give each victim back their name and face and record their story. She knew that people are moved, not by abstractions, but by the stories of real people. If your pictures aren't good enough, you're not close enough, said photojournalist Robert Capa. Marla's pictures were all close-ups.

After her death, Marla's family and friends resolved to continue her work -- a task they have undertaken with a passion and tenaciousness that would have made Marla proud. They have turned CIVIC (Campaign for Innocent Victims in Conflict), the NGO Marla singlehandedly founded in 2003, into a functioning organization with a board of directors and two full-time staffers: Associate Director Marla Bertagnolli (known as Marla B), and Executive Director Sarah Holewinski, who made her first trip to Iraq in March.

I spoke with Holewinski by telephone not long after she returned. Her experience in Iraq, she said, was both exhilarating and exhausting. "Humanitarian work is not what it was when Marla started CIVIC," she told me. "There are places in Iraq I cannot go and meet with the families, because they would be targets and I would be targeted. But there's also this sense of hope and optimism, because there are so many people who want to help."