Special Day

(May 11)
Happy Birthday Dad! I wanted to get you a sweet new ride but couldn't decide on which you'd prefer. Camels are classic but BMWs are slightly less ornery.

Happy Mother's Day from Beirut! If only you could have a bouquet of these hollyhocks!

Shway Shway

(Slowly or gently)

You may have noticed that all of my posts are posted rather late after the fact. That's because I have felt too tired to write. 

And Then We Had Fun.

(April)

Please, do not be depressed by the last few posts. Things can be heavy but we are also having lots of fun together.

FYI

(April)

Just so you know, those items and support do get here. 

Fuduloo

(April)

This story is too big to tell. Where to even begin? Perhaps at “Fuh-dul-loo”. Yes, that is as good of a start as any.

“Fuh-dul-loo” she says, “Please, come.” head nodding and palm indicating her tent. After politely resisting her appeals, I know I am really invited and acquiesce. I slip my shoes off and step over the threshold into the dim tent. She reaches out her right hand. I take it, then kiss her once on the right cheek, then 3 or 4 times on the left.

We sink down onto the thin mats on the floor and cross our feet* with care. After the customary pleasantries, the tea is brought out. The mother takes the pot from the tray and pours the amber liquid into small glasses. She or the oldest girl then hands them to the guests on a tray, usually from left to right. As you take one, you say, “Islamuu (God bless your hands)” or a simple “Shukran (Thankyou)”. The tea is always scalding and I can hardly get the glass from the tray to the floor to cool without dropping it. Once the tea has cooled I can take a sip and we begin to talk about how things are really going.

*Showing the bottom of your feet or brandishing your shoe at someone is an insult.

Mish Mumkin

(Impossible)

(April)

“Seriously? Are we out of milk again? I just bought some!” You say as you open the fridge, stumbling out of sleep, thanks to your morning cup of coffee. You're miffed but figure you'll have enough time to swing by the store to pick up some more.

Milk in hand and congratulating yourself for not buying that bag of chips on aisle 9, you walk out of the store trying to recall where you parked your car. There is an odd sound in the air. A sort of... humming. You pause and look to the sky, but it's too late. Cars in the parking lot explode into roaring balls of fire and plumes of black smoke, catapulting you backwards into a stash of shopping carts. Back screaming from the impact, you pull yourself up from the ground. Everything is eerily silent, the bombs have left you momentarily deaf. The ground shakes violently, all around you things are exploding. Suddenly, the grocery store implodes in a fiery blast, followed by a dusty collapse. Above, you see the tails of jets departing through the black haze smeared across the sky.

It's an air strike.

“Where's the milk?” Such odd things come into our minds at such moments.

Oh, there it is, spilled on the ground, a long white river meandering amongst what is left of the parking lot and all who were in it. It's milky white quality mixes with all that is injury and death. That is the worst part. You've never seen anything like this before. How could you? People aren't supposed to look like that. They're supposed to be... intact, not defiled like this. At least in death ought not the body be at rest? You stare dumbly at nothing, ears ringing, you can't take in anything more.

Suddenly, it all snaps into focus. Razor sharp focus. Where is my family?

You think of the elementary school with the construction paper tulips the children have taped up in the windows to celebrate spring. And you have to get there. Is she safe? Is he safe?

You stumble to the road and flag down a passing car that has escaped the air strike. You beg the driver to take you. He's in a state of shock but agrees. On the way you see a face in the side view mirror. A bloody face. It's yours. But you don't care. You have to get to the school.

There are three blocks away from the school but something is terribly wrong. Ambulances, cars, and people have blocked the streets and havoc runs rampant. You can't breathe. No. The worst can't be happening. Not this way, please. 

You dash out of the car and somehow fumble through the chaos to the school. Despite the bedlam all around, the school looks eerily fine. The tulips are still in the windows and the flag is waving above the door. The door opens, and men in white hazmat suits walk out slowly, body bags in their arms.

Chemical weapons.

You fall to your knees and begin to retch and retch and retch.

If only this were fiction.   

1,000,000

Imagine that everyone you see today is a refugee. At the bank, at work, on the roads, everywhere.

There are over 1,000,000 registered Syrian refugees in Lebanon. Registered. There are others that fear registration because they dread the repercussions if their government knew they've fled the country.

There are more refugees* here in a space the size of New Jersey than there are people in Montana.

Imagine that all of Montana was forced to move to New Jersey, shoe horning our way between all of the people that live there already. How would we handle that?

*this is not counting refugees from other countries and territories in the Middle East.

Hoan

April 2014

(Here) I am in Lebanon to participate in relief efforts for Syrian refugees. My team is in Zahle, in the Bekaa Valley, between the capital city of Beirut and within spitting distance of the Syrian border. We are 45 miles by road from Damascus, the capital of Syria.

Syria lies over those hills.

It's amazing how He prepares us for good works without us realizing it. The French once ruled in Lebanon and Syria so my background in French may be very useful. I spent several years working in an intensive therapeutic group home. The skills I learned there will be applicable in this crisis setting. Well before I knew I was coming to this area, I was very interested in the Syrian situation. Now I am finding that will be our main focus.

However, do I feel ready for this? No. But this is where I am, so I'd better make myself useful. 

Mabruuk

(Congratulations)
Congratulations Wilson, on acceptance to the MA of Architecture program! You will be such an asset and needed voice. I am so excited for you and Grace!

Ahlan Was Ahlan Bikum Fee Lebnaan

This pic is from a different day.

(April 23)

Welcome to Lebanon.

We'd just cleared security and registered our phones at the airport, a necessity if you want to use your phone in country. As we carried our bags to the car, our driver pointed out the new concrete barricades in front of the airport. “They're for the crazy suicide bombers.”

We pulled out of the parking lot and passed through more military checkpoints per kilometer than I have ever experienced. Headlights in the darkness cast concertina wire shadows on camouflage painted tanks. Metal drums and stacked sandbags blocked portions of the road, reminding us we could only go this way, not that way. Stiff booted soldiers in their berets stepped out of their concrete shelters. One hand on their AK-47s and one hand raised, they paused the vehicle and ordered us to hand our passports over for inspection.

Toto, we aren't in Kansas anymore.  

Read Article: "Lebanon: three killed in attack on army checkpoint"

Going Places

(April 23)

As we boarded our plane for our destination, we were surrounded by pilgrims headed to Jeddah. It isn't time for the Hajj* yet so I am not sure what event they were going to or returning from. 

*The Hajj is a pilgrimage to Mecca, Saudi Arabia to pay homage at the Ka'aba, the most sacred site in Islam. This is one of the 5 Pillars of Islam, one of the duties of a Muslim. In completing this excursion, one is considered cleansed of his sin. 

Stanu Shway

(Wait a little) Can you guess where I am off to next?

1. The Phoenicians lived here way back in the day... as in the BC day.
2. The capital city likes to party and is considered the Paris of the Middle East.
3. One of the most notorious terrorist groups hails from here.
4. Syrian refugees have flocked to this, their neighboring country. 

Ma'a Salaama

Goodbye Amman. 

Ancient city of Philadelphia. 

City of eastern tradition

and western fast-forward. 

I will see you soon. 

Happy Easter

Easter was spent at Jerash (Northwest Jordan) and its Roman ruins. We haven't been able to do much touristy stuff so I was pretty excited about the prospect of spending all day basking in ancient history. 

A Roman Easter egg hunt. Look, Mom and Dad, “cosmic eggs"!  

Just a little symbolism. 

Gilead

(March 28)

Today I went for a picnic with some new friends in Salt, which was once called Gilead.

Note to Self:

Washing lettuce. It isn't advisable to drink water from the tap
and why yes, that is toilet paper in the colander.

When you are cooking in a developing country never look closely at your food. Today I noticed dark dots in the bowl of ingredients (flour, salt, etc...). If I didn't know better, I'd say those dots were moving.

Oh wait. They are moving.

What to do? Well, I guess they're just a little added protein. Let's not venture a guess what those other little dots are. 

Mafraq in Images

Mafraq is a city in the north of Jordan that serves as a gateway for many incoming Syrian refugees. 

Typical street: The American fascination with post-apocalyptic and disutopian movies always astounds me. What to us is entertainment is much closer to reality in other parts of the world.

Syrian Food. Delicious, but you don't want to know what we're eating. You really don't. 

A sports day camp for boys. Since I am female, it is haram (forbidden) for me to participate. Instead, I just sat on the sidelines and watched. 

Typical. In so many ways. 

There is very little quality education available for refugee children. This little girl was such a sweetheart! 

Petra

(March 23, 2014)

This photo represents Petra to me. On one hand, it is a place of archeological riches, a gem of human accomplishment. On the other, it is a place glutted and spoiled by the very likes of those who built it. We humans have a capacity to simultaneously create beauty and perpetuate cruelty. 

Ok, enough despair about the human race. Here are some happy moments from Petra: 

There are many names in Arabic for "horse". 

 They say the tomb of Aaron, the brother of Moses, lies over yonder.