9/10/2007

Salaam Aleikum Everyone!

The subject of this email is Moments of Grace because there have been many in the past few days. The first one occurred when I went shopping with Diane, a friend here who just moved to Iraq today (more on her later). We were sitting and eating dinner in the "family section" of the food court (remember, it's segregated: the main section is for men only) and a Saudi family sat down next to us. For a few minutes they didn't talk to us, then they asked us where we were from. But their English skills were right up there with my Arabic skills, so it turned out to be quite a conversation they started! We told them we were American (one of the few things I can say in Arabic), and the father let us know that his daughter had guessed right. He kept trying to ask us things in Arabic, or maybe he thought it was English, I'm not sure, but it became a complicated game of charades. His wife went to order some food, and he and his daughter stayed at the table to talk with us. I introduced myself and Diane (because I can do that in Arabic! yay!); I told him that we were teachers at Al Yamamah (another phrase I learned). He proudly had his daughter show off her English skills (counting to ten), which I had to follow up with showing off my Arabic skills (counting to five, except I missed two); then he wanted to know how old we were. He got this question across by pointing to his daughter and holding up 7 fingers (don't worry, they weren't all on the same hand). I tried flashing a "two" with my fingers followed by "four," but it was obvious that wasn't computing. So I pulled a piece of paper out of my purse and wrote down my age in the number system they use here (ironically, the numbers we use in america are "arabic numerals," but they aren't used by Arabic speakers. Can't remember what number system they use, but it's completely different). Or, I think I did. I passed the paper to him, and he wrote down his age--35--with our numerals, so then I wrote down my age with our numbers, and to clarify, he flashed his open hands twice, then held up four fingers. Then Diane divulged her age somewhat begrudgingly: 42. Because I remembered how to say it, I told him, "I am from the city of Missoula in the state of Montana in America." Of course, he has no idea where Montana is--most American don't even know where Montana is! But hey, I can say it in Arabic! Then he wanted to know if we were married, which he asked by pointing to us, then gesturing to the ring finger of his left hand. Diane said no, and no would have been the easy answer for me, but why go with the easy answer? So, speaking in English while using American Sign Language (sometimes this aids communication; other times I think it really confuses people and makes them wonder about my sanity) I slowly said, "I used to" (did the sign for "used to" by throwing my right hand over my shoulder to indicate the past) while nodding to indicate that by "i used to" I mean a sort-of yes, then paused, and said, "But...divorce." Since he probably doesn't know the word divorce, when I said divorce I made the sign for "break" in ASL, which looks like you're holding a stick with both your hands and breaking it in two. He got the picture, and he got a good laugh out of my explanation. He pointed to my abaaya and hejab (remember, I'm stylin' now with a very elegant abaaya and matching hejab--as soon as I get pictures I'll send one) and smiled, giving me a thumbs up. I said "Shoekran" (thank you). The conversation seemed to be puttering out, so, desperately thinking of anything else I could say in Arabic, I informed him, "I like hummus." Anyway, his wife came back with a huge bag of food from Cinnabon (oh yes, they have those here!), and the husband and daughter rose to leave. The husband shook my hand, and I said, in Arabic "Nice to meet you." Woohoo! It was really exhilirating to get to use all the Arabic I know! Diane said she was very impressed--she doesn't know as much Arabic as I do, which is to say, she can say "hello" and "thank you."

The next moment of grace also involves Diane. As I mentioned, she just moved to Iraq today because she couldn't handle the cattiness and backstabbing that goes on at work. Now, let me point out the obvious, you know a situation is unbearable when moving to Iraq seems like much more pleasant option! Diane taught in Iraq for 2 years before coming to Al Yamamah, and she didn't even make it a year at Al Yamamah. That speaks volumes, doesn't it? Scares me. A lot. So I'm just doing my best to lay low, be nice to everyone, and hope they can manage to wait until I'm out of earshot to say ugly things about me. Anyway. So Diane had planned on having all her belongings here shipped to her in Iraq--she had gone weeks ago to talk with people about shipping via a student who came to translate for her, and she was assured shipping her things would be no problem. She found out 24 hours before her plane left for Iraq that there was a rather large problem: they only ship to Baghdad, and she's going to northern Iraq and wouldn't have a way to get her stuff from Baghdad without it costing a fortune. So she called me and asked if I wanted to buy her tv and some other stuff. I said sure, and she brought over several huge boxes and ended up selling me a TV, a satellite receiver (which you need to get any channels), a big, gorgeous carpet for my living room, throwpillows to match the carpet, a coffeemaker and a bunch of kitchen stuff, and many other odds and ends. She asked for $350 riyals, which is less than $100 USD, which I couldn't in good conscience do. So we argued about it and haggled, and the most she would let me give her was $425 riyals, which is just over $100 USD. All the stuff she gave me would add up to at least $500 USD, if not closer to 1000! And she has other friends here whom she's known for way longer than she's known me, but she chose to give me my choice of all she couldn't take. And just like that, my huge empty apartment, which echoes because the floors are all linoleum and the walls are bare, became a home. In fact, it motivated me to clean today, believe it or not! So anyway, for those of you who pray, please pray for Diane; pray that things look up for her there, that she can find peace and happiness, and that people bless her like she has blessed me with her kindness and generosity.

The final moment of grace I'd like to mention has to do with the cats which I feed every day and am trying to tame enough to get one or two to come share this huge apartment with me. After hours of coaxing and feeding and luring, one of them, the cutest, littlest one, came to visit me last night! Literally, it took hours: I placed a few pieces of food on each step leading up to my apartment--and there are 4 flights of stairs leading up to my apartment! And I stayed several steps away from the cats as they cautiously made their way up. There were three at the beginning, but two stopped after the first couple flights. I suppose they were full and saw no need to continue. But this one little guy came all the way up, and I opened my front door and just left it open a little and went back to cleaning, and then I saw him peek his head in, look around, and come in! He checked everything out, and I rushed to get him some sardines, which I bought a few days ago in the hopes of luring one or two into my apartment. I figured I needed to reward them with something they don't get outside! So I gave him some sardines, which he eventually ate (obviously he wasn't too hungry by the time he reached the top either!), and I didn't try to pet him because he's really skittish--outside, he runs if you even walk towards him or invade his personal bubble, which seems to have about a 6-8 foot radius now. He stayed in the apartment for a couple hours, and I just let him do his thing, and I talked to him a little but didn't try to get too close, then eventually he left. Unfortunately, after all that it was about 2 a.m. Boy, this earning-their-trust thing is harder and much more time and energy consuming than I expected! But I will persevere. I tried again tonight, and the door is still cracked but perhaps their bellies are too full to be motivated to come visit tonight. They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but I have found that is even more true of street cats! I really want to have an indoor cat, and, not gonna lie, I already made a list of possible Arabic names, so once one has decided to really trust me, we'll work on picking an Arabic name that we both find agreeable.

Well, that's all for now. There's more I could tell, but I'm so long-winded that I think I better stop now! Thank you for your emails, your prayers, your thoughts, your friendship. It means more than I can possibly express.

Salaam, Lizz