My blog is like my journal...

Yep, not an entirely a new concept but it's very true. The way I blog is very much like the way I journal... which means that I get a good start with writing consistently and then I get distracted and don't do it for a very, very long time. I have had people call me "self-motivated" here (perhaps due to my habit of running in my room, which actually I still do) but it seems not to apply to writing in my blog.

But, I don't really want to write about all the reasons why I can't seem to discipline myself to write consistently...

Instead I want to try something new. There is one way that I journal consistently and that is when I'm reading through scripture. When I'm reading, I will usually write down the words that stand out to me. Generally it's because something that has caught my eye in a new way. And oddly enough, I really don't have a lot of conversations about what I'm reading with other people here so I guess this is my chance.

So tonight I was reading through Mark 5-8 and the passage that stood out to me bookends Jesus feeding the five thousand in chapter 6. In summary, Jesus sees that the disciples are tired and calls them away to spend some time with him in a solitary place. The crowd follows, he has compassion on them and so they don't rest, but instead Jesus teaches and then the crowd is miraculously fed. After being fed, Jesus sends the disciples on ahead while he dismisses the crowd. 

I guess the two things that stood out to me involve rest and Jesus' leadership When he sees his followers he calls them to "Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest." Since most of my schedule on a day to day, even week to week basis, is primarily self-generated I think it's good to have that reminder that when I'm really tired, it's okay to rest. I don't have to feel guilty when my brain really doesn't want to take in any more Arabic or when I don't have the energy visit anyone. Jesus is a good leader. He knows that sometimes I just need to sit outside (usually on the roof) and be still. 

However, then comes the crowd... It's a great demonstration of a conversation I've had multiple times: which is more important, paying attention to our energy levels or ministering to the needs around us? And the answer is always both, but how does that really work? So the crowd comes and they do end up serving them. So yah, sometimes when I'm really tired, I will still feel prompted to make that call and visit. For example yesterday when I did not feel like going anywhere but yet, I felt compelled to call on one of the families I visit here. It turns out that their eldest daughter had just returned from out of country for a break in-between semesters. I was able to see her for the first time in months. Though I didn't say much on my visit, I think that just having my presence there was important to her.

Then at the end of the story, Jesus sends the disciples on ahead while he dismisses the crowd. The first time I read that I was impressed with how Jesus took the time to dismiss five thousand people. But this second time, I was impressed with how Jesus sent his disciples on ahead. He knew they were tired so after everyone was fed he took on the responsibility of dismissal and let them have a break. He took care of them and their needs. When I read that I thought, "that was really awesome of him to do that for his disciples." I think at times I take Jesus' perfection for granted when really I should be more impressed.

So anyway, those were my thoughts tonight. I'm really not sure if I'll write another blog like this, but maybe :)

Side note: I had to correct a bunch of spelling and grammar errors when reading this through... I think Arabic is corrupting my English.

Progression

Well, hey! I have a blog... which means I probably should write in it from time to time... 

So autumn has definitely hit the desert. The trees don't change color but it's pretty chilly when I wake up in the morning and wearing long sleeves is finally comfortable again. I knit a sweater and hat in celebration. Soups, hot chocolate, and teas have also regained their favored status. In addition, I have the sudden desire to make homemade applesauce, homemade bread, and yesterday I even made bagels. Yep, autumn is definitely here and though I am living in a different place, some things about myself just don't change.

But, that's all sort of a side note. I really was just going to post some artwork in this post. Last month I stayed with a married couple for a weekend and as a thank you I said I would create a small series of drawings for their wall. Their only request was that it be somehow related to this region. After weeks of really having no clue of what to draw this is what I eventually came up with:

The pictures read from right to left as you would in Arabic. The idea I had was to create something that represents our progression both in language and culture as we live here longer and longer. The first picture is in black and white with no background behind the kettle and cups. The word in red is simply Arabic for "tea". When we first arrive we only understand basic words and customs such a noun and the symbol of tea for hospitality. Then as we progress more, color starts to fill out our observations. The words translated in the second picture say "Who is my neighbor?" We are able to converse more with our new friends and really start to get to know more of who they are, where they live, and how they live. The last picture has the most color and is still beyond our current level both in Arabic and culture. The words are in classical Arabic (which I painstakingly copied since I couldn't understand everything) and quote from Isaiah 61:1 "The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, because the LORD has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners." Incidentally the first picture was drawn from my personal tea kettle, the second from a photo taken during a prayer drive into the desert during Ramadan, and the third from a photo on Easter morning.

From Surviving the Heat to Donations

It's September and it's still hot. The nights are thankfully cooler but the sun still feels really close to me when I walk outside in the middle of the day. (An occurrence I have learned to avoid whenever possible.) However, I think I can now say that I have survived my first desert summer. For someone who absolutely loves water & trees, and whose idea of a perfect temperature is anywhere between 20-25 degrees Celsius -- I consider this a bit of an accomplishment. (Yep, I'm starting to think of the weather in Celsius now. The weird thing is that I still think in Fahrenheit for baking...)

I think dealing with the heat was one of the things I was most nervous about upon moving here. And to be honest, that first week in June when the temperatures rose close to 40 degrees Celsius, I flopped on my bed content to be a listless lump of human with only enough energy to drink out of a water bottle. Yet practicality set in, or perhaps my sense of adaptability, and I decided that with a few adjustments the summer could be dealt with:

Rule #1 - Try not to walk outside anytime between noon and 4pm.
Rule #2 - Make sure your water bottle is always filled.
Rule #3 - Acquire a fan, but try to make sure it doesn't fall when turned on because then the blades crack and it eventually explodes.
Rule #4 - Buy clothing that is appropriate to wear outside but also appropriate for the heat: i.e. light material that covers everything up to the ankles, wrists, and neck.

It's with this last rule that I had some difficulties. I don't particularly care for shopping unless it is for food, art supplies, downloads, or gifts. Perhaps this is because I still eye all of my belongings as to how easy it will be to move them. However, I dutifully entered the shops and set about the trial & error process of finding clothing that could work for the summer.

I failed on my first attempt. The two skirts I bought were thin enough but when the wind caught them they revealed my ankles and almost up to my knees... scandalous.

Well, I eventually discovered the right combinations for my survival and after living through both summer & winter here, I have a pretty good idea of which of the things I own I need and which I don't. Looking at these belongings, I am also fairly certain that someone else could use them better. Which brings me to donations.

How do you donate in this country??

I think my ignorance is a byproduct of my upbringing in the States where I am used to looking up the nearest donation site on the internet. This country operates more on word of mouth. Well, let the search begin...

Street Commentary

As I've mentioned in previous posts, it's quite hard to remain invisible on the streets. When I was here three years ago I used to call days that I didn't receive comments "ghost days" because I would feel like a ghost walking the sidewalks. I also gave designations for the different guys loitering on the streets. There were the "mannikins" - I would be walking down the street past a shop and then after I passed, would realize that the figure I had mistaken for a mannikin was actually a person. There were also the "parrots", those who were persistently repeating their "hello, how are you?" mantra.

Now that I've learned some of the language, a whole new window of amusement has opened for me. It's one thing to hear people trying to practice their English on you (i.e. my new favorite: the guy who passed by me today just saying "walking, walking"... 

...I really don't know what that was supposed to mean but somehow he managed to make it sound smarmy. I tried very hard not to laugh.) 

However, now I also get to hear the things that they don't expect me to understand. It can range from a group of little boys telling me in Arabic to give them money, a simple greeting that they laugh about afterwards thinking I don't understand, and once when my friend was walking down the street with me, simply: Banaat. Girls. Why yes, I do believe that we are, thank you for noticing. I once overheard a conversation about my friend and I, where a girl was saying in a conciliatory tone, "Well, the second one is pretty," implying of course that the first was not. Fairly certain I was the first one as my friend was looking quite adorable. It made me grin.

Ah yes, and I have two more to add to my List of Nationalities:

11. "Hello, señorita!" - I was so tempted to pull out my high school Spanish for this one but I was a good girl and held my tongue.
12. Enti alemaniyye?  - I suppose there is a German university not that far away from my city but that's the first time I've been mistaken for German.



 

Translating quirks

As with any language there are few words in Arabic that just don't translate very well to English. (I'm sure it's the same from English to Arabic but at my level in Arabic, I usually just think I haven't learned the appropriate word yet.) There may be an official translation in the dictionary but I'm finding that doesn't always cover the local nuances. As a result, these words have started to infiltrate my English speaking to the extent that I have to consciously omit them from my skype calls. So if you hear me using these words by accident, I do apologize:

1. Adi - I think I love this one because it helps me be indecisive about unimportant things or evasive if I don't want to answer a question in detail. The general meaning is of something ordinary or commonplace. In a shop if I say this to a shopkeeper's question it generally means: do whatever you normally do and that will be fine with me. Or when people ask me how life is here, but I can tell they really don't want an in-depth answer, the temptation is just to shrug and say adi meaning: It's just ordinary life with its usual ups and downs.

2. Yanni - The closest equivalents I can find in English are the expressions: "so-so" or "more or less that's the case". When I use this in answer to a question it usually means: Well, I could have hoped for better but it's okay. There always seems to be some implied doubt in the word. For example if someone asks me: "So, you have three lessons a week?" I would then reply "Yanni..." meaning: That may be what is planned but not what is actually happening. 

3. Hayk - This one basically means "that's the way it is." I end up using the negative (mosh hayk) a lot more frequently due to my status as a learner and the amount of comparisons I make in conversations. For example, I may ask someone "Mosh zaay hayk?" (Not like this?) if I am making an error or "Zaay hayk?" if I'm trying to figure out how to do something correctly. 

Anyway, there are plenty more but these are three big ones that always find their way to the tip of my tongue no matter which language I'm trying to speak in.

Percolating thoughts on faith

For the past month I've been left on my own a lot more than usual. My roommate was gone for a couple weeks, with Ramadan I didn't visit as many of my friends, and my lessons were cancelled. So, I've found myself with plenty of time to process and think. And after scanning some posts on Facebook, I suddenly found myself thinking how interesting it is to live in a country that does not deny God exists.

I really had to stop and consider that for awhile.

I think it came from reading a post online where someone was mockingly questioning the existence of God. It was intelligently written, but the words just struck hollow to me-- as if the person was incredibly proud of their witty turn of phrase, pleased with having made jabs at the stupidity of faith -- and the replies came defensive and passionate taking the general bitterness of the first commenter as a personal affront. Faith became a sparring ground to be argued over, analyzed, judged, prosecuted, and defended. And I wonder in these kinds of conversations how much listening actually takes place. It seems more of a forum to shove ideas at one another without taking the time to consider, to ponder. Is that really the way to treat the core beliefs of a person on either side?

Whereas here, faith is ingrained into the way of life and important enough to die for. My friend was astonished when I told her that there are many people in America who don't have a religion. (This is partially from the mistaken idea found here that America is Christian... and I wonder: can any one nation really make that audacious claim?) The spiritual element of life is not denied and taken very seriously. Faith is so tied up in identity. It was revealing the day I discovered that because of my strong faith, though different from my friends, I was respected more and not less. 

Ironic, isn't it? Especially considering what many people think of the region where I live, particularly on the issue of religion. There are dangers to both ways of treating faith of course, but that's impossible to avoid whenever considering something human originated. However, it does make interesting processing... To use a favorite word from my high school English teacher: I feel like letting these thoughts percolate for a little longer.

Citadel Nights

Ack! I guess since I haven't written a lot in a while all of my posts tend to go a little long. However, as this is a blog about my experiences here in a foreign land I suppose I should make some mention of Ramadan* before it ends within the next couple days. The whole month has had a very in-between feel to it. Without my usual language lessons and regular visiting of friends, I've had a lot more free time on my hands. Add to that, the fact that my roommate has been gone for the past two weeks has made this month quite unusual and seemingly empty... or not.

As is usually the case, supposed "free time" fills up very rapidly. I have spent most of this past month of Ramadan studying independently (listening to old lesson recordings and improving my reading & writing), exploring the art of making jams and scones (yum!), practicing instruments, spending a lot more time in prayer both with others and by myself, and occasionally participating in iftar (the meal breaking the fast) with a couple of my closest Muslim friends and their families. All in all, it's been a lovely month, but I will be happy to resume my normal schedule after next week.

 
Perhaps one of the most memorable nights of Ramadan for me was a trip to the capitol to experience "Citadel Nights", a celebration held after iftar next to some ancient ruins. (Have I mentioned yet how much I love living in a country where you can see ancient history side by side with modernity?) After a brief walk around the ruins (they were closing the gate and were only just let in to explore for '10 minutes') we then sat down to eat some snacks and watch the city come alive after iftar. Special Ramadan lights (with crescent moons and stars) lit up several windows reminding me of Christmas lights. Then we entered into the actual celebration.

Oh, it was definitely touristy but the number of Arabic speakers certainly outweighed us foreigners. There were numerous booths with crafts and food lining the walkway that made its circuit around the whole festival. We paused to examine mosaics, hand-embroidered scarves and clutches, and jewelry. There were two stages and on the smaller stage my ethnomusicologist heart was delighted to hear the rabab (a one or two stringed instrument) played live while the musician sang folk tunes. But the best for me was yet to come. At 10 p.m. the big stage opened for the main entertainment. In preparation for the professional group to play, the two hosts asked members from the crowd to come up and either sing or tell a story. This was my favorite part. Though glamorized, it reminded me of a time when perhaps it was commonplace for people to sit around in a tent telling stories and singing songs to one another. I have to admit, some of the voices weren't so great, but even that was amusing as the hosts tried desperately to get them to finish and get off the stage. However, there were also some amazing voices that were a pleasure to hear. You could always tell which ones the sound engineer enjoyed because he would add an echo to the microphone to make them sound even more professional. The group that capped off the night's festivities was led by a female vocalist and supported by an electric violin, piano, bass & electric guitars, drum set and tabla. I had fun watching the pianist and the violinist play off each other in a mixture of parallel ornamentation and some improvisation. My fingers itched to learn to play some more Arabic music.

Perhaps the most beautiful sight of the night though were the floating lanterns. Two or three paper lanterns were set off into the sky, their lights getting smaller and smaller until you couldn't distinguish them from the stars.



*For those unfamiliar with Ramadan here's the brief overview: Once a year Muslims set aside a whole month for fasting and prayer. They fast from early in the morning to when the sun goes down. This fasting includes not only food but also liquids as well. After the sun goes down then they are allowed to eat and drink. Many people stay up late at night and then rise later the next morning if they don't have work. At the finish of Ramadan there is a four day eid or festival.