Thanksgiving in Jordan

Thanksgiving was spent on the following, thrilling activities: reading, exercising, shopping for food, cleaning, and welcoming guests. I will articulate what each entailed in utterly captivating detail.

Reading: I recently received, from my sister, an electronic reader. It is a nifty little toy than contains all the books my heart could desire. I have quickly put it to use, and enjoy its convenience. Still, it was a bit disappointing that customs put an egregious tax on the package, approximately equaling three-fourths the value of the item itself. Such is life...

Exercising: I have concocted a rather unique aerobic workout, which takes place in the 5ftx5ft open space in my room. It is a seamless unification of many techniques, including (though not limited to) the following: kick-boxing, tae-bo, yoga, interpretive dance, running in place, jumping and jumping jacks (flailing arms included), static muscle flexing (I don't know if that is really a term), and push-ups (if there is time). It is a simple combination of awesome wrapped in mind-numbing intensity baked in creativity. Yes, I think that accurately describes it.

Shopping: Food is something towards which I lack proper sense of necessity. I can go without food for weeks, maybe even years (I am pretty sure). But, when placed in the heart of a convenience store (which, in Jordan, only involves stepping through the door), I quickly become victim to poor judgment. Upon this day, though, I triumphantly conquered. I bought food for the next two days for only 2.35 JD. Bread, hoummus, tomatoes, cucumbers, green peppers, and two grapefruit. Incidentally, I recognize that, while tempting to use, "grapefruits" is not an acceptable plural. Regardless, the grapefruit was exceptional, perhaps the best I have ever had. Or, maybe it just seems that way because of my context and extensive deprivation. Still, it was delectable.

Cleaning: The bathroom in my flat had progressed from the "disgusting and in disrepair" category to the "stifling putrescence" stage. This isn't to say that efforts hadn't been made to make it better, but thusfar, my efforts had been largely unsuccessful, and almost entirely disheartening. So, in addition to my food shopping, I stocked up on cleaning ammunition. No-nonsense sponge, 2 metal scouring pads, and a 30 oz. bottle of industrial strength cleaner (clearly marked with warnings, likely illegal in the U.S.). This was war. For 2 hours, the battle was waged, hands burning from chemicals, metal shavings working their way through the epidermis, porcelain spitting forth the most unsavory of insults. When I had finally put up the white flag, downtrodden and humbled, a rinsing revealed my foe to have retreated in a fog of orange and brown. Behold, before my eyes, a tub of white stood, a welcome ally. Casualties would not be suffered on this day, and my injuries would heal with time. Below are the results.


















Guests: As I was finishing up my cleaning, I got a knock on my door. Outside were 2 unfamiliar faces, a young man from Switzerland and a young woman from the U.S. Couldn't have been much older than me. They were on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, the young man started in Switzerland and was joined by his companion in Istanbul, and had walked the entire distance to Salt. (Side note: The young woman had gone to Lancaster Mennonite High School, and when she found out I was working for MCC, it was a "wow moment".) I conversed with them for a time, offered to share some sweets, listened to their story, and just had a relaxing time talking with some really interesting people. I was fascinated by their commitment, they were intrigued by my work. And, they used my newly cleaned shower. The first people to do so, and I felt honored.

Thanksgiving was great. It wasn't about having family to share it with, or turkey, or recognizing what I have been blessed with (still worth doing everyday, not just one day a year), or pie, or even familiarity. It was focused on where I am, whoever happens to be here with me, and the incredible service opportunity that I have been given. There is thankfulness in being blessed by the things that you missed, without feeling like you really missed out. I am here, you are there, and as long as we're doing what we're supposed to, nobody has to miss anything. Keep doing what you're doing, and glorify the God through whom you do it. I'll try to do the same. Peace.

Visit From the King

To begin, you may view the two-week aftermath of the bite of Haazim.


In all his splendor, King Abdullah II made his way to the Holy Land Institute this past week. It was quite a spectacle. I wasn't completely excited, but the overflowing enthusiasm from the students did spill over a bit.

I won't go into detail of his caravan of SUV's, or of the extensive personnel that were sent to the school for security purposes. He came quickly, and he left quickly, and we were thankful that he made the time to do so.

It was, however, quite fun to see the excitement of the students as they waited for his arrival. It was even more fun to take pictures of the king as he shook the hands of staff and children alike. And it was the best when he gave a traditional Arabic greeting to Mohammed, which I actually got a picture of.

Really, though, I was reminded that I am more fond of my deaf-blind children than I am of any celebrity. The blessing of smile from them far outweighs the "honor" of shaking the hand of a king. And I am honored to work with these children. Still, I will give you a picture of the king, as well as a picture of me with one of my favorite students. But, teachers don't have favorites, and all my students are my favorite, but she is just my utmost favorite. Peace.

Three Months

Tomorrow I will hit the three-month mark, a milestone that will continually expand the record for most time consecutively spent away from Kansas. This are still going eerily well, and I will not seek out any opportunities to ruin that.

In the past few weeks, I have had some exciting moments. One of my students bit my hand, leaving what will hopefully become a delightful scar (an unplanned memento, but still one I will relish once the healing process is completed). A pitiful attempt at navigating Amman by foot, in which I walked for over an hour away from my intended destination. A pancake brunch with some of the other volunteers. Two straight days of rain, in amounts greater than what most residents can recall having consecutively. Weather becoming hot, then cold, then perfect (as in sunny, mild, and comfortable). Seeing Muhammed become ecstatic at the appearance of the mysterious water that issues forth from the sky. Things are good.

In a recent meeting with the MCC reps in Amman, I had a chance to actually evaluate how things are going. This is something that I do daily, but it isn't often that I express my perspective with more than a few signs, or some simplified English. Yet, the chance to do so made me realize that even the things I classify as challenges are some of the things I enjoy the most. When forced to analyze and characterize my experience, it seems that only good things come to mind. It is slightly taxing to have to produce a list of negatives.

While this is more than premature, this experience has unexpectedly illicited a bit of indulgent entertaining of ideas relating to continued work in Jordan. I wouldn't say that I am seriously considering extending my term with MCC, and as of now the possibility of simply finishing my SALT term and returning to the U.S. would be far more likely. Still, it is notable that I am considering a possibility of considering the opportunity to stay. But, considering beginning a consideration is far detached from having dipped into the consideration itself, so don't jump to conclusions.

I suppose that the message that I hope to convey is simply this: I enjoy my life. I wouldn't say I am adequately adapted to this culture, or qualified for my job, or even settled in. It doesn't prevent me from loving the work I do, nor does it so engulf my being that I forget about the people I love back in the U.S. And while my existence seems so far removed from your daily life, I assure you that a connection is maintained. You are in my thoughts and prayers, not forgotten. We are separate, but not apart. And in that sense, a part of this experience is yours as well. It has been enjoyable so far, and I hope you feel a bit of that, if only through me. Peace.

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.