Vitality is a Must

Something about the word must...it has an allure. It is an absolute certainty that I should add it to my list of funny words (amongst others, such as duty, muffin, pewter, etc.).

I came to Jordan without many thoughts on what I "must do", but have heard reports from others. You must visit Petra. You must go to the Dead Sea. You must try the magloubeh (which I did, and it definitely isn't a must). You must call your parents (admittedly, I don't do this often enough). You must be homesick. You must get exhausted and tired of the monotony of your job. You must experience culture shock. The list would be excruciatingly long...

There are some good things in that list. All of it is good, actually, either by merit or by the humor it provides me. Months have zipped by, all too quickly, and I still have many more to go, and a lot of the "musts" will probably be lost along the way. With this in mind, I am already picking and choosing which ones will make the "MUST must" list. I think I'll stick with...call parents. Petra will likely make be retained as well. Dead Sea...been there, done that. And I hate to be so exclusive, because homesickness and culture shock could surely play a valuable role. I really do strive to get the complete "SALT experience". And I try to advocate equality without judgment, which makes it all the more painful to be so exclusive. Regrettably, that's the way it is. Hayk, in Arabic.

Still, this is my maintained reality. I intend to make, above other things, vitality a must. A sort of unquenchable passion, an energy that my life exudes. That is a must. And it is, in a way, much easier to do with the specifics of my job. I am at the school for around 12 hours each day. If there is chapel, it can stretch upwards of 14 hours. I don't get a lot of free time, nor do I need it. I wake up each day and work, then have time at home in the evening to unwind. Watch a movie, color a picture, read a book, eat some falafel, listen to music, exercise, maybe even study if I am feeling especially productive. I might be confused, but am I supposed to want something else? Am I supposed to wish that my circumstances fit ideally into an image of perfection? I think the crux, the intrinsic juxtaposition here lies only in the application of perfection. A perfect dream is much different than a perfect perspective. The dream relates to something fantastical, while the perspective is applicable to reality. I like the perspective, as a perfect perspective transforms a marred reality into something more beautiful than a dream can create. Just yesterday, I was painting, and I accidently leaned against the railing, leaving a line of wet paint on my white shirt. I looked down, and in that diagonal line, I saw an incomplete heart. So, I finished the figure, albeit a lopsided depiction. There is grace in turning a wrongly perceived mistake into a beautiful form worth rejoicing over. But perspective is key.

Living intentionally (as opposed to wandering, as if by accident) deprives the cruelties of circumstance from defining your reality. Intentions allow you to create your own reality.

You just have to intend to break that list of "musts" sometimes. Peace.

Teacher Initiation

A couple days ago, the unyielding thrills of my job were suddenly increased, a veritable "ante up" of excitement. It initially appeared to be just like any other Thursday, with the students in the deaf-blind unit being prepared to go home and well aware that being menaces would go without punishment on this day. Little did I know, this was apparently "Teacher Initiation Day"...

It started with an attempt at deviation from the mundane (I say mundane only because it seems boring for Muhammed, not becuase it is a shot at the curriculum) lesson plan, and the intention of teaching Muhammed to count on his fingers. I knew it would be difficult, but I decided to work on the number 2, and spent all of 45 minutes just trying to train Muhammed to move his fingers independently of one another. If I may, I will attempt to illustrate the exceptional level of complication which Muhammed might have been experiencing. Hold your hand out in front of you and attempt to bend your pinky to the palm of your hand, without bending your thumb or any of your other fingers. It is impossible. An exercise in futility. But for Muhammed, I think it is essential for him to spend hours, days, weeks, even months just learning how to manipulate his hands, as it will allow him to progress in his sign language much farther than where he is now. Otherwise, the signs are always muddled by the lack of specificity that comes with the orientation of his fingers. I am fine with failing in my attempt, but I will keep trying, as I have patience in abundance.

The next occurrence was with Haazim, the instigator of all tantrums, and to whom I am now the officially designated diffuser. Haazim knows me because, at my own risk, whenever I come in to restrain him, my first action is to force his hand to run through my hair, identifying what I like to call "getting down to business". Haazim seems to be most calm when in my presence, either out of fear or a higher level of comfort with me, but when I am intervening he is not very fond of me. Usually, it is an expression of frustration, but on this day, his malice was sharp and frustration quickly evolved into downright loathing of my existence. I am considerably stronger than this young boy, but he shows surprising power when he wishes to inflict pain on the unknown forces that so enrage him. As I have no training, my best option is to put him in a position where he has limited mobility, preferably on my lap to prevent his feet from gaining any leverage. I am then, of course, vulnerable to kicking and possibly a reverse head-butt (which, fortunately, Haazim doesn't seem to be aware of). He is also cunning, and will slouch and squirm, forcing me to adjust the position of his arms to prevent him from either biting me or himself. But he is too smart, and at the precise moment he feels me adjust, he goes in for blood. Though he managed to get his teeth on my arm, he thankfully never landed a successful bite. At my own disappointment, though, he scares me enough to slip out of my grasp, and bites himself. Overall, I spent at least a half an hour grappling with him before he finally calmed down a bit...so exhausting.

Lastly, I was quite drained after those ordeals, and gladly sat down for a calm dinner. But there was more still on the way, in the form of a innocent (innocent-looking) young girl of maybe 6 years-old. She was, at the least mischievous, and knew how to manipulate the cuteness-factor. I didn't really mind, and then I saw her making the sign for "Christian". I nodded a "yes" in response, and what ensued was a series of signs to signify her apparent loyalty to Islam and an apparent opinion that Christians are detestable, poignantly concluded with an emphatic slap to my face. I was a bit shocked, but as a volunteer, this was an opportunity to establish a bit of authority. While I am not one to get mad often, I plastered an expression of rage upon my face and leaned in towards her. She smiled, even giggled a bit, but after about 15-seconds she realized that something was wrong here. As discomfort overtook her, I simply pointed to myself and gave her the sign for "teacher", followed by forcefully grabbing her hand and re-enacting the slap, the signing "never". She was terrified. I ended with a simple question, signing "What do you say?". Ashamed and apologetic, she signed "Sorry." I broke character, smiled, and let her know it was okay. Discipline, complete.

Today is a day off, and I hope to save some of the excitement for next week. I don't want it to run out, after all. Peace.

Some Firsts

Although each day brings new experiences, the past week has had some "firsts" that made for a great week.

The first...first is a funny word. Sounds funny when I say it. Say it out loud, right now. I am starting to doubt if it really is a word. First. I'll just use the Arabic word, since this is distracting.

Awwal ishshi: It finally rained this week. I woke up and saw ominous clouds, lounging overhead. I anticipated these wisps would dissipate within the hour, but they stuck around. As I sat down for lunch, I was doubting that rain would come. Within minutes, there were drops on the windows, and I had to contain my fits of giddyness to prevent my coworkers from the revelation of my childishness. It transitioned into complete torrential downpour. Using the "need to go to the office" as a guise, I daintily jaunted through the falling waves of water. I enjoy rain.

Next, this week there was an incident with a student. It wasn't anything dangerous, just the result of frustration and confusion communicated in surprising ways. One of the students is of relatively big stature, not enough that he can manipulate an adult, but more than enough to inflict pain if you are caught unaware. Well, he occasionally communicates by biting your hand, and he tried to do so with one of the teachers. She reacted, and the situation was immediately exacerbated by his perception of excitement. The attempts to calm him down yielded a successful bite for the student, followed by a frustrated headbutt into the wall. I was called in to be the one to calm him down. This, realistically, only entailed me sitting next to him and making sure I didn't fall victim to the vampirical onslaught. It makes the kid sound unruly, and terrifying. This isn't the case. He lacks the utilities to interpret the world around him in a meaningful way, and it makes sense that he would get frustrated at times.

Today, I sat in on a sign language class for the female teachers I work with. All the words were written in Arabic, and I was able to read them, verbalize them, and even knew the signs for most of them. It is encouraging to feel like some of my Arabic is coming together, and even better to have it happen in conjunction with learning sign language. That was a first.

Lastly, I was forced into playing football (soccer) today. The closest I have ever been to being considered a soccer player was during my tenure on the best soccer ball boy squad in the KCAC. It was quite enjoyable, and although I didn't score a goal, I surprised some of the youngsters with footwork I wasn't even aware I had. It was fun to just relax, play football (any sport would be good, really...), and enjoy time with the students.

I have officially been away from "home" for over two months now. Without meaning offense, though, I am actually at home. I could probably be happier (though not much more), but I don't think I could be any more content, and that is what chiefly matters. Peace.

Still No Rain, Much the Same

After only a week of school, followed by a week of vacation, I went to an MCC retreat to give me a much needed break from my grueling relaxation time. The retreat was good, meeting new people, hugging red-haired lumberjacks, seeing a Bugatti, and spending time at the children's museum (where I donned a Superman cape and cowboy hat, thus making me appear so conspicuous that I somehow blended in). It was a fantastic time, especially winning the wheelchair race at the museum.

And then it was back to a week at school, which was quite successful. I had to opportunity to work with Mohammed individually, as the unit was short a staff member a couple days. I am still working out the whole "competency" thing, but I am making progress. Mohammed still knows that I am a softie, so he likes to be intentionally difficult, if only to make his day more interesting. I do, however, have enough authority to keep him in line. Admittedly, though, I also lack the sternness to be as effective as I should be. As I said, a work in progress...

On Friday, I was set for a wonderful day of relaxation, and had put a lot of thought into my day. It was set up as follows: Eat breakfast, study Arabic and some sign language by myself, maybe watch an episode of Arrested Development, eat lunch, maybe take a nap, work out, probably go to some of the shops to continue expanding the array of Arabic snacks I have consumed, eat dinner, and watch a movie. I know what you are thinking...that sounds delightful, especially after a tiring week of work (not because of the kids, but because quality sleep is hard to come by when the neighbor's rooster has a penchant for crowing in the middle of the night). And it would have been delightful, had it played out in such a manner. It may have even become infamous, the perfect day, because with all that free time I may have expanded my plans and done great things. Maybe there was a child's life in danger, and I could have been the one to, at my own peril, avert a crisis of magnificent proportions (I hope someone else stepped in, in my absence). I digress...I ended up painting the fence. You know, with the green paint. I wrote about it previously. Apparently, the powers that be were not aware of my fantastic plans, and switched my day off to Saturday. Good enough. I won't dwell on the fact that Friday may well have aligned itself with the description of "perfect day", had I not been working. I still had a good day, listening to music, painting a fence, just loving it.

As each week passes, I am supposedly slipping down a slope towards "culture shock". It looms on the horizon, but I am hoping that it waits to show up, at least until after the rain comes...

For now, I am experiencing new things, but life is the same. Blessing innumerable, joys given to me from too many sources to discern. Hope you are feeling the same. Peace.

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.