And so the Vacation Begins

To start, here is my address here in Salt:

P.O. Box 15
Salt 19110, Jordan

For the past two days, I had the privilege of becoming an apprentice to a masterful trade. Painting. My assignment: To paint a fence green. Now, I don't know how many of you are painters, but green is quite obviously the most confounding color, though clearly the best. Especially a dark green, which is more fickle than a lighter hue. It has something to do with the wavelength, as well as my opinion. Since the students were gone, I worked for a day by myself, followed by the next morning of work with Christian (one of the German volunteers). The fence is placed on top of a stone wall, so it is accessible by ladder on one side, but from the other, one must maintain delicate balance on the ledge while slathering on paint as quickly as possible. A ten-foot drop awaits those who choose not to heed the dangers of the task. The work was painfully slow, unrewarding, and I managed to get paint on my shoes and jeans (not usually such a big deal, but I only packed three pairs of pants, and now one pair has taken on some evident scars which make them appear to be bursting with rage, reminiscent of the Hulk...).

But, now I have several free days, and even found time to take a thirty-minute hike up a hill in Salt, wandering aimlessly until I landed in an internet cafe. So, as promised, I will try to update you a little more about my job.

In the deaf-blind unit, there is a schedule for each day, ensuring consistency for the students. This is especially important, as stability is essential for the younger ones. I have been mostly observing, but after a few initial exercises, I can now competently instruct Muhammed on the preparation of the morning activites. I can sign the following commands: Prepare calendar, first (activity), music time, use the restroom, snack, lunch, cook, swing, do the dishes, pick up trash, etc. After this, I usually accompany Muhammed to each thing, helping him do his chores or sitting on the swing with him as he listens to music. It is the best. Since Muhammed enjoys music, I will occasionally sing to entertain him. I think he enjoys the idea of someone sharing music with him more than my vocal talent, but a smile on his face and his hand clutching my throat tells me that he finds it amusing (he grabs my throat to feel the vibrations of my vocal chords, not to choke me...). The afternoon is much the same, with a set program. Around 4 o'clock, the regular staff leaves and a group of deaf students take over. This is one of my favorite times, as I am no longer assigned to an individual student. Basically, I get to interact with any of the students. For example, the best hour of my time here at the HLID occurred at this time, when the students were going to the gym for recreation. Hadeel, a young deaf-blind girl (maybe 7 years old), was being particularly difficult. She is very thin and flexible, making her deceptively difficult to pick up get to walk. Still, one of the students asked me to try, and using a gentle grip but a firm motion, I pulled her off the ground. She responded with a smile, and we spent the next ~25 minutes walking around, as she continually experimented to figure out who this person was and how much force it would take to manipulate me. She is clearly clever, grasping mechanical forces and the reality of gravity. And after her extended time on the trampoline, I picked her up and threw her in the air repeatedly. The delightful giggling as she reached the pinnacle and the anxious grin as she awaited the next toss told me that I was participating in something unique, a cohort in a blissful crime of enjoyment. It was simply lovely.

There will be times when Hadeel isn't nearly as cooperative, or days when Muhammed is completely bored with the mundane procedures of the week. I have a feeling though, that the one hour of happiness with Hadeel is worth 100 deafening screams, a month of disinterest, and a year of exhaustion. And as a volunteer, I don't have set hours, meaning that I get to spend the entire day with the kids, not just an 8am-4pm job. Pretty sweet. Peace.

New Job Description

As I had expected, the duties I am now charged with at the Holy Land Institute for the Deaf only slightly resemble the duties that were originally in the job description. And I couldn't be any more pleased. I have the simple, yet challenging job of working in the deaf-blind unit. The days are long and sometimes grueling, but the rewards are greater still. I will save details for a time when I have a better internet connection, and am on my laptop. For now, I will give you a taste.

I work primarily with Muhammed, a 16 year-old who is blind and has some remnant auditory senses that are enhanced by a hearing aid. He communicates almost exclusively by sign language, and responds to some words, but mostly through holding the hand of a teacher during the signing of any command or thought. He is brilliant, and reminds me of this by displaying the most joyful grin every time that I screw up a sign. And, he enjoys my singing, though this is a rare occurence.

I am on staff with about 12 women who work regularly in the department, though there are about 7 who are the primary staff during the day. As such, I bring masculinity to the mix, and it is actually part of why Brother Andrew wanted me to work with the deaf blind unit (the other reason was that MCC funds the unit). Since the world isn't made up exclusively of women, it is probably good that the deaf-blind students have some interaction with a male, which puts a lot of responsibility on me to be a good ambassador for the testosterone population.

Put simply, this is a dream job. Maybe it will become monotonous. Maybe it will be emotionally draining. Maybe I won't even be an asset to the staff. But for now, I am integrating and even working one-on-one with Muhammed, which is incredible. And at the end of the day, even if I have been at the school for 14 hours and have little time to stay connected with everyone back home, I am still feeling thankful to be here and blessed by the people I work with. No matter what is going on in my life, I will always be content because of these children, who are more amazing than I could ever explain. Each day is made complete simply by the suspicious smile from Muhammed (when I know he just drank from the faucet in the bathroom and got away with it). Or the gentle embrace of my finger by the delicate hands of Kawther, telling me that despite her deaf-blindness, she still understands the meaning of a comforting touch. Or soothing laughter of Hadeel, as she unleashes a relentless fury of joy that is entirely intoxicating (though her screaming tantrums are similarly piercing). I almost hate to point it out, for fear of sounding arrogant, but my job is most certainly better than whatever it is that you are doing. Maybe not for you, but for me, there is nothing I would rather be doing right now. Sadly, after the first week, the school is now on a 10-day vacation for the end of Ramadan. I can't wait for school to start again...

Coal Can't Tarnish Diamonds

So, after priming each one of you with grandiose tales and glowing reports, I think you are finally ready for the other side. A lot of my experiences are a matter of perspective, and the way in which I reflect on them usually makes it positive. Still, there are plenty of negatives that have encouraged me to adjust. Now, when I say "negatives", I would like to qualify that I am only using the term so that you can relate. I am in a position where I lack either the courage or the practicality to actively engage my environment and designate one experience as "good" and another as "bad". Maybe I am just uncomfortable because it is so relative, and any attempt to characterize this experience holistically as anything other than good would be a frustrating exercise in futility. I like arbitrary assignment of value as much as the next person, but about as far as I am willing to go would involve a scale with a lower limit of "very nice" and an upper limit of "blissful as an angelic symphony serenading me in a celestial concert hall". I will reserve the latter rating for a later evaluation, because once I use that, I might start to lose credibility. While it would be tempting to idealize the intoxicating allure of novelty, even the most optimistic judges don't go around giving perfect 10's. A 9.9 is a different story....

It seems, though, that I have digressed from my intention to depict some of the disguised positives that I have encountered (a positive attitude is terribly overwhelming, obnoxiously pervasive, and quite distracting, so sorry if my optimism makes you nauseous). Here goes:

Learning Arabic has been completely grueling. I could spend 3 hours in class each day, then come home and spend another 3 hours studying in the evening. Usually, I would still wake up the next morning and study for another hour as well. Putting in that much time, you would think that I would master each lesson as it came. Well, the results were counter-intuitive. I don't know if it was the pace, or the environment, or a personal lack of focus, but I didn't retain as much information from day to day as I wanted to. To study that much and still feel inadequate in your progress further exacerbates the exhaustion. The mental overload translates into emotional strain, which then pours over into the physiological dimension, a veritable breakdown of all systems. BUT....yes, I have a positive here. This was great. To be pushed so hard, with no guarantee of a reward (Will I really use spoken Arabic often at a school for the deaf?), it was a tremendous personal challenge. There is an intangible reward in recognizing the value of putting effort into a task for no reason other than being asked to invest yourself in it. How can I discern a calling in a situation if I am not invested in it? If my investment is superficial, won't I only be blinded by inappropriate perspectives on my assignment. I shouldn't be motivated by a need to be recognized, but instead by a willingness to not be recognized. If I wanted to, I could commission the building of a monument to myself...but I get the distinct feeling that SALT intends for me to do other things.

I am a fairly introverted person, so Jordanian hospitality can be incredibly stifling. It is one thing to join my host family's relatives for an evening meal, but it is entirely something else to be dragged around Amman for hours for the sake of spending time with people. And then, when returning at hours when I should already be sleeping, the hospitality would continue with insisting that a meal is necessary before sleep. I didn't have a lot of choice in how I spent my days, because if they really wanted to, my host family could invariably convince me to put down my books in favor of some yet to be determined event (which includes socializing). I could steal time in the afternoon when everyone takes naps, and on some days I could convey that studying was my priority, but there was never a guarantee. Again, this was still a positive. Sometimes I act like I own time, and that it is something that other persons can take away from me. It gave me the opportunity to learn how to incorporate elements of my introverted personality into a social setting. I found ways to adapt, to perpetually reflect and evaluate, rather than storing the days happenings and only process them when I was alone in silence. I find this to be practical, because it makes me more aware of God working through persons, makes me recognize the continuity of an environment that can only exist in the higher context that is God. God is present the entire day, rather than just at the end of the day when I reflect.

Lastly, being a foreigner is just strange. Rather than trying to use my Arabic, I fell into the trap of being comfortable with speaking English to Arabs who are eager to practice their English. I get stared at when I walk several miles to my Arabic lesson. I almost got hit by car today when the driver purposefully accelerated towards me, forcing me to literally jump out of the way to narrowly avoid being hit. I don't have best friends here to turn to, I just have these acquaintances to explain things to me, not to listen to me make conjectures about the culture I am observing and participating in. I am the incapable foreigner, a child in another culture. It all adds up to remind me that there is nothing I can do to break this barrier. I am trapped here, and no amount of positive attitude can clear me of my label.

Somehow, this is awesome. I have a label. I am an American. I am a Christian. Assumptions are made, and I just get to sit back and take it on. As the days pass, though, I get to take on the identity of an anomaly. What if my conduct were to reflect the kingdom of God rather than the establishment of America? What if I don't fit into the box that people want me to fit into? I love the opportunity to be in a different culture where I don't have to adhere to old standards, but instead can just live out my faith in this environment. Hopefully, this opportunity will build up a fortitude to live out faith regardless of context, but that is a work in progress.

So, while there are many things that I could dismiss and place into the "yuckers" category, I prefer to have an overflowing cup of blessings, and hopefully the appropriate thankfulness to accompany it. Peace.

Just Call Me "Danger"

Arabic lessons are winding down, and I only have four more sessions before my stay in Amman is over. I have hit the wall where there is enough to remember that words are jumbled in my mind, and even some of the simplest things are now being forgotten as I replace old vocabulary words with new ones. It is not exactly easy to continually review once you have reached this point, but things are slowly coming together. It is nice to be able to write and read in Arabic (see below), although I spend minutes working through a sentence, only to get to the end without having the slightest comprehension of the words that I spoke. That, in itself, is entertaining.
After leaving one of my Arabic classes, I happened to have my camera with me. Since the British Council is close to the school, I walk up the street towards it to wait for my ride, hoping to get a picture of one of the guards outside. These guys are serious, stoic, in full camo-uniforms, and toting machine guns. It wasn't so much that I wanted a picture for myself, just one to show other people. Still, I had my doubts that the guard would like me taking his picture, or a picture of the British Council. To properly handle this situation, I casually pull out my camera, turn it on, and hold it by my side (pointing in the general vicinity of the guard). And then logic kicks in, and I realize how foolish of an idea this really is, especially when the guard shifts his focus towards me. At this point, I know that taking a picture would be a mistake, but that to turn the camera off or put it away might just draw more attention to myself. So, I just stand there, trying not to look suspicious (which, ironically, makes me suspiciously conspicuous). And then it happens...the guard starts yelling at me from across the street and begins his approach, and among the slurring of Arabic words I somehow pick up the word "issuura", which I happen to know means picture. So, while this is slightly disconcerting, I am also thinking, "I baited him into this", which for some reason made me happy. Rather than make him come all the way to me, I briskly walk to his side responding in my broken Arabic "la, mish issuura" (means, "no, no picture"). I cheerfully show him all my pictures, twice for effect, and reiterate my previous statement. He begrudgingly nods and I walk back to my side of the street to resume my post, camera still in hand, smiling in the direction of the guard. I don't think he likes me now, but I am quite fond of him. He was only doing his job, after all, and I was just having some fun with him. Maybe next time I'll actually get a picture for you, but it definitely needs to be a covert operation.

In the past few days, I have also gotten to visit the Dead Sea, Mt. Nebo (where Moses went before he died to see into the "land of the future"), and the baptism site of Jesus in the Jordan River. The Dead Sea provided a much welcomed evening of relaxation, simply because of the atmosphere. The air was hot and humid, and reminded me of Kansas. Just sitting by the shore and watching the sunset over the mountains towards Palestine...it was a tranquil, serene, revitalizing environment. Mt. Nebo provided some spectacular views and gave me some historical context of the area. The baptism site was amazing and bland at the same time. I was with the family driver (The Transporter, if you will...), and since he has army ranking, he was able to arrange a private excursion to the site, bypassing the guards, shuttle system, fees, and crowds of tourists. So, it was just me and a couple members of the host family at the site. It was so calm, but very plain. I don't know what most people experience when visiting these holy sites, but I didn't feel any different. It didn't seem like there was a spiritual force there, it was just another place where God is present (although I did feel privileged to be able to journey to these places of historical significance). Maybe it was the touristy feel, or that I didn't want to have a contrived sense that God had a special blessing for me just because I had visited these places. I don't know, but I do know that the place I have felt closest to God since coming here has been the first night I saw the stars in Jordan. It is in the beauty of simple things, of people and nature, that I feel most connected.

A Racing Mind

Within the hour (1:00am), I returned from a YWCA fund-raising banquet. It was another one of those occasions where I agreed to accompany my host family without much idea of what would happen. If you know me, then this makes sense, as I am a go-with-the-flow kind of guy. Once again, it was an evening full of music, wonderful food, laughter, and so many new faces. I was also dragged out onto the "dance floor" and forced to participate, much to my personal embarrassment. And I loved it. My host mom just took me by the hand and led the way, and I did all I could to follow. There is no doubt in my mind that I looked like I was suffering from a local anesthetic that left both my legs numb, with my style consisting of characteristic limping and the occasional flailing of an arm or two. Not elegant or even entertaining, but it was something. I play it off like it was torture, but I couldn't keep from smiling while making a fool of myself. And I tend to be somewhat stoic, so the smiling translated into a sort of euphoria different from the contentment I have felt here in Jordan.

So, I get back from this event, and now my mind is all over the place. I don't know how many factors are contributing, but I am all of a sudden wide awake when I should be asleep. But I am reminded of how great a position I am in, where it doesn't really matter what is required of me. I am only asked to do my best, which is simple enough. And as long as I can see God in those terrible, foolish, awkward moments, then all of a sudden my role becomes more enjoyable than I would have ever anticipated. So, why not dance? Well, I'll avoid it whenever possible, but when you're on the dance floor, you can't exactly sit and have a cup of tea. And the stage I have chosen is a bit more daunting. Surreal, actually. My mind still inquires, on a daily basis, as to my purpose for being here. In making my decision to do SALT, I tried my best to remove all motives and just be open to a calling, wherever that would take me. So, it feels like the purpose is both concise and vague. Concise in the sense that I know that this is where that calling led me, and all I have to do is fulfill the SALT job description in a way that reflects a Christian ethic of service. Vague in the sense that I don't really know what that will entail, or how I will live it out.

And, while my mind is always taking in information throughout the day, processing and analyzing, there are additional things going on. I have a very sincere, committed, evaluative process that is constant, and isn't always apparent on the outside. But, to keep me in good spirits, and to always help me realize the beauty of life around me, there are other processes that I take delight in. I thought I would share some of theses thoughts with you, to allow to delve into a less serious side of my mind. This is how I enjoy being a foreigner:

It is perfectly acceptable for me to be silent when in the presence of native Arabic speakers, and just observe. I take great joy in watching social interactions, especially when I am in the zone. I can pick out the subtle moments that would embarrass people if they knew I was watching. Well, they don't know, but I do. That is fun, in itself. You might call it "creepin", but I just call it entertainment more realistic than Bab al Haara (a popular TV show here, and I probably butchered the spelling).

Whenever a taxi driver honks as he approaches, rather than fall prey to common sense and realize he sees me as a potential customer, I like to pretend that he just thinks I am an attractive young man and is honking to acknowledge that fact. A great self-esteem boost, although I am slightly uncomfortable with middle-aged Arab men objectifying me. Still, I must admit, they have good taste...

In traditional greetings, two people who know each other usually shake hands and go in for a series of cheek-kisses. I am at the point where I am starting to get to know people, but I sense that they sense a sense of discomfort from me when it comes time to "make a move". So, I just go with a firm handshake and a clear smile to convey the idea that "I am awkward, believe me, a handshake is best for both of us." Still, in that magical moment of uncertainty, I have an impulse to go in for the kiss, which I instantaneously envision possible results: 1) I go in for the wrong side and we meet in the middle...I don't think that would be standard procedure. 2) I go to the correct side and then panic, don't kiss, and just hold an embrace, all the while whispering "bail-out" softly into the ear of the other party. Or, 3) I just suffer from a complete panic attack as I attempt the greeting, fainting into the unsuspecting arms of the other person. It just doesn't seem worth the risk.

I am usually recognized as a foreigner, so I try to look as normal as possible...except for today. I already break code by allowing my huge, blue eyes to find their way into the eyes of strangers, an attempt to show that I am comfortable in my environment. I took it a step further, and decided to sing while I walked to the MCC office in the morning. Not only did I sing, but I picked songs with notes that were clearly out of my range. So, I am just walking down the street, belting notes with unwavering confidence, just hoping that someone will recognize this innate musical talent that has never been tapped into.

Each moment presents a playground for my mind, so I let myself wander from reality as necessary. There will be plenty of time to face reality when something serious comes up, but being a SALTer doesn't have to be so serious. At least not yet...

I apologize if this post was inadequate, but again, my mind was racing and I needed something to do to make myself tired. You, the unsuspecting audience, are unfortunately the collateral damage. If it helps, just think of me like the taxi drivers do, and I doubt you will be able to stay mad at me for long. Peace, always.

A few pictures

To prove that I am indeed safe and feeling fine, I suppose a picture of me would be in order. So here you go, a quick pic that is neither significant or flattering. If you are missing my huge eyes, or my bald head, then perhaps this is a quick fix. I assure you, my smile is much more magical in person, but this is all I can offer.
For a period of several months, there is no rain in Amman. That is simply the way it is. It might not rain until as late as December, but there is no way of telling. Anyhow, today was the first day that I saw clouds in Amman, and I was quite thrilled to see an image that was once common. It occurred as I was walking back to my "residence" and it was so striking. It is amazing how delightful such a simple image becomes when it is a rarity.
This is my host brother, Zaid, who is very much a social butterfly. A good contrast for me.

A night view of Amman, and though it is nice, I think I can find better.

Sadly, these pictures are not exactly of the quality that I wish they were, but alas, this is the best that I can do...so no complaining. If you have better pictures that you have taken of Jordan, then start your own blog. I am continuing to adjust, though I am finding that I have plenty of stubbornness in me. Perhaps I should be moving away from contentedness to try to invest myself a little more in what I am doing here. It is a work in progress, I'll let you know how it goes. In the mean time, ilhamdulilaah. Peace.

Second Week

A lot has happened since I last wrote, but I don't think I have the patience to chronicle all of it in significant detail. If you really want more, just shoot me an email.

Here are just a couple of the recent encounters and experiences: I went to a banquet held at a mansion on a large olive and fig tree farm. The banquet was being held to celebrate the recovery of a man who had experienced kidney failure and several other complications, but had miraculously recovered from a very risky surgery. I met him and his son (who donated a kidney to his father), all the while being immersed in the extravagance of the situation. His story was very unique, as he had gone to Germany to study and earned five engineering degrees. When he returned to Jordan, his degrees initially weren't recognized. Eventually, it was all sorted out. He designed his farm, literally cutting stone out of a hillside to create a series of steps to serve as rows for the trees. At the top, he built his mansion. A project costing millions, but the landscape is beautiful, truly a work of art. The house is in Salt, where I will be working in a few weeks, so I hope to capture a picture and post it at some point. (Salt, by the way, provides some spectacular views, and I will get as many pictures as I can.)

I also went to the Orthodox Club, which has about 12,000 families who have memberships (and it is almost exclusively Christian). We ate there, and I was once again tricked into eating too much. My host family ordered about 7 personal sized pizzas, and so I take a couple pieces, and have a third placed on my plate. These are somewhat small pieces, and my host family thinks I look a bodybuilder (yeah, I thought "what?????" as well), so I kind of have a reputation to live up to. So I down the pizza, only to have a perpetual pizza convoy arriving as I finish each piece. Eventually, I have eaten 8 pieces and am feeling ready to go. So we sit for about 40 minutes, and in their cunning, charming way, my family is coaxing me to eat more pizza. And then it happens...the ACTUAL meal is brought out. Hummus, kabaabs, salads, breads...I am already full. But, in a tactful display of selective Alzheimer's, the people me around pretend as if I am a starving child needing to break a fast. A language barrier appears instantaneously (though my host family speaks great English...), and when I say "no more, please, I beg of you" they interpret it as "seriously, I want to eat until I puke, so pile it on". I am trying everything, like hand signals, or even covering my plate with a napkin, but to no avail. I must simply be bad at eating, though I didn't realize it until I arrived in Jordan.

Following the meal, I was subjected to a small concert, which I was initially hesitant about. It ended up being great. There was a competition for local singers, and a performer who would sing in between. It was almost exclusively traditional songs, and I found that I enjoy most of them despite not being able to understand a single word. It was a fun filled evening full of clapping, yelling, and lots of hand motions. Quite nice.

Arabic is still coming along slowly, but I have some basics down. Still, I am not good at using the little bit of Arabic that I have. I have to be so deliberate about even attempting to use it that it ends up feeling like I'm not communicating at all. And when I try to listen to a conversation in Arabic, I end up concentrating exclusively on everything except the words. It is something that I have trained myself to do in social situations. I don't pay attention to what the people around me are saying, but rather the manner in which they say it, the emotion they display, their body language, their context. I get so caught up in behavioral patterns that I rarely observe the language, which makes it tough to pick up on the intricacies that I need to be learning. I could be frustrated, but I am content knowing that this is how I interact with the world around me. All I can do is adapt as best I can, and hope I do an adequate job.

At orientation, we talked a lot about the "honeymoon period" that will eventually wear off when placed in a new culture. I don't know if I am experiencing that now, or if I am waiting for it to come. Right now, it pretty much seems like I am still participating in the same life, guided by the same God, unifying me with whatever scenario is placed in front of me. The people change, the traditions change, the expectations change, but there are elements of life that transcend all the changes and provide me with stability. Pretty sweet deal, if you ask me. Maybe within two months, I will be crying myself to sleep every night, asking myself why I came here...if so, I hope everyone reading this will laugh at the irony of my plight. And then you can tell me I am a sissy who lost track of the reasons I am here and the consistency of God's presence and love. I'll expect you to do so, and if you do, all will be well. Thanks. Peace.

Kansas out.