Reflections

A friend told me a story, about a woman with my name. She converts to Islam, she moves to Damascus, dyes her hair with henna and finally stops asking the question "where do I belong?". Should this story come to pass, five, 10, even 20 years from now know that it was first told on a sunny day in Seattle on the way to the farmer's market.

At our birthday party Ann played this video for us... in context it was hilarious. So, think of the context as you watch it.

I keep listening to Anis Mojgani in the mornings to get myself going.

After two weeks it feels like my mind, spirit and energy have caught up with my body, and are no longer floating over the Atlantic Ocean. I'm so glad that my scattered, spacey gushing emotion phase of re-entry seems to be over. I'm still sleeping a good 9 hours a night.

I've been asked if being in Jordan was hard, as well as if coming back is hard - you know - that reverse culture shock stuff. Honestly, no, neither has been hard. Being in Amman was kind of weird. I was there, I was working, and I was with a group of internationals almost the entire time. I wasn't living on my own, doing my own thing and spending my time with locals in a personal way. Coming back, I'm tired because I worked hard, I'm tired because of jet lag... I'm tired because of the work I'm doing with myself. And, I'm joyfully putting on shorts again when I run, on the street, without worry of being hit by a car. I'm enjoying the weather, the salt air, the farmers market, my friends, my own room and bed, showers without buckets, naps in the sun... It's been pretty smooth all things considered.

Home

That's it, one word: home.

About to Depart

Here it is, my last day in Jordan. It's late, the moon is full and my mind is fairly scattered.

I just got back from Damascus. I've fallen in love with a new city, and it didn't even take a full three days. Walking the old city, sumptuous meals, glowing after a visit to the Turkish bath. Being led to a taxi back to Amman by a one legged man who sounded so, sooo much like Robert Deniro.

Waiting to cross the border into Syria took five damn hours. Five. Not for security mind you, just bureaucracy. But, I was travelling with a Canadian who only needed 10 minutes - her visa cost $52 and mine was only $16 - time or money. The wait was good for me to remember/learn that borders can just be about waiting and ridiculous process, but nothing more serious.

We went to the Mar Mousa Monastery in the mountains - again - incredible luxurious silence. They had a worship service and communion. I, and my two companions, were about the only folks who didn't take communion. I started thinking about my relationship with Christianity again... I was baptized when I was seven, too young for it to be a choice, but well after my grandfather's address. Would it have meant more to me if it had been him, rather than some random and now faceless minister? Probably not, but I can't help wondering.

Thinking about/planning for next year: I'm still going to apply for a Fulbright, probably to do research in Cairo, but more and more not really wanting to live in Cairo for a whole year. I've been thinking about that for the better part of my month here.

Other tidbits...

Archetypes: so many archetypes, and repetition of a few of them too.
Displaced hostility from others, woo.
Trucks that stay 'tug well' on the back.
Pharmacy shelves with whitening cream and personal lubricant right next to each other.
Stories of Disney Land, and a small world after all playing outside during worship.
Lost bandana, mourning of teal bandana that came from the Pendle Hill free room and had a corner missing.
Ridiculous subtitles like "y" for several lines from a character in a bootlegged movie.
Funding: my funding scholarship was approved!
Needing reminders to not over-work, still.
Clean hair, love for having clean hair.
Theme songs.
Rosaries for sale next to a mini Hezbollah flag.

Back to the moon, the laundry, the movie... and maybe some sleep.

Trusting and Continuing

Huge incredible gratitude and relief because I was granted the travel scholarship I applied for. It was a fantastic way to end a very good 29th birthday.

For all of the discernment I did about coming on this program I had a really hard time trusting that the financial support would come through for it to work. At the last minute before leaving and even in my first days here I doubted my decision to come - how could this possibly be wise? But, I came, which I now know was the right choice because of all I've contributed and learned. And financial support has come through (once I get a letter from my Yearly Meeting) and that means that the work really is possible, and not a hardship or over-extension.

Introducing the Middle East to Jaya is interesting... I get to remember what it was like to be here for the first time. What was confusing? What do I wish I'd learned sooner, or wish someone had just told me? I do wish I'd calmed down and given myself the opportunity to travel more - which I'm doing tomorrow. We're off to Syria in the morning. Hopefully the border process isn't too long (as it can be for Americans). Hopefully the convent we've been told about is available to stay in. It would be a wonderful irony if we go out dancing or something sinful while staying there. We've made contact with local Quakers, and I'm looking forward to that as well.

My journal is filling fast, and I'm laughing at myself for bringing along so many books ... I've listened to one audio book and only cracked and then set down one of the three books I brought to read. I don't see myself delving into them more in the next week, even on the plane.

Saying good bye and sending people away: It's begun. Ann and Alex both left tonight. Cecile leaves in the morning, and everyone else will have flown away by the time I return from Syria and Lebanon.

The moon's belly is swelling and will be full in my last days here. I always notice the moon differently in the Middle East, and maybe even more. I notice it more in the sky, as if it's more prominent and significant.

I'm ready to sit in cafes and write poetry, to contemplate this last month's workshops... and also give myself a few days to forget them entirely. Ready to be silent, to be loud, to dance, to be still... and maybe take a nap or two. I'm ready to see the Mediterranean again.

Spirit of the Journey

"Success is not a place at which one arrives but rather the spirit with which one understands and continues the journey" Alex Noble

My last week in Jordan is upon me. I though I wasn't going to be in the Middle East for a while (you know, another year or so). But, here I am, and there's no point saying I won't be back soon - that seems rather inevitable at this point.

AVP and war torn societies, in cultures that are not white or western even though that's what it comes from. While it's not overtly recognized, I see U.S. culture as a product of war, famine and migration... so if it's helpful with the cultural fallout of all that in the U.S. then it may well be in other places too. In our Training for Trainers with adults they had a fishbowl on the question of whether AVP was relevant or useful in the Middle East and communities ravaged by war. Finally - I got to hear from people what they wanted from all this, what they hoped was possible from their interaction with AVP and for their communities. What did I hear? We need more training, more time, more understanding. We need to work with youth and build a new non-violent generation. And I was hearing that sometimes there is no choice but violence - which I think is real, and I heard from the most influential pacifist in my life. The point of pacifism, and non-violence, is to work so that we don't get to the point where violence is the only choice.

Is it appropriate to incorporate faith based understandings of non-violence (namely Islamic ones) to get AVP and other non-violence practices adopted and really understood in the Middle East? AVP is, while founded with a great deal of grounding in Quaker belief of the good in all, without theology and is clearly explained as such in U.S. workshops I've been to here. However, we work with the idea of transforming power, and all the values that go into that. In conversations here about what TP means to people, it's sometimes understood and explained in clearly theistic ways. Are we just saying that AVP is non-religious on the surface? Are we just looking for the broadest cultural understanding we can find in the Middle East, and the best examples we have to work with are religious? Is it an acceptable compromise to use these?

I had this grand intention of resting this summer. I realized last week that, for the last month, I've been working, and working hard. Where possible I've been reasonable with my workload - not reading the amazing stacks of books and reports on refugee mental health, the situation of Iraqi refugee women, refugee women's reproductive health, non-violence and peacemaking in Islam, radical community building for peace and so forth. I am building up an even longer list of books to read - but not right now and not this summer.

Our workshops ended on Thursday - so that part of the work is done. My mind and body are moving towards rest. Friday we had an AVP community picnic in the park under cedars and pines. I picked Jaya up from the airport and we're trying to set our plans for the next week - diving in the Red Sea looks promising, as does a pedicure.

Tonight we made dinner for all the trainers (though two were missing). I made shakshuka, somewhat directed an Arabic salad, we had freekeh, bread, olives, sweets, coffee, juice, dates, bread... and ice cream. Ann and I declared it our birthday party - and there were little masks with fake plastic noses (mine was green). Honor to my grandmother, because today is her birthday.

Reflections on sexual harassment and, what I've finally figured out is the difference between here and in the U.S. is resources. I have more personal, community and official resources in the U.S. than I do here. There are, in fact, less organizations and support programs here as well - but the more significant thing in day to day experiences is the personal and community resources being less by fact of being new and having a small community that's also low on personal capital.

Tentatively resisting buying artwork wherever I go if no for the cost, then uncertainty of who to give it to and how to transport it. Ooh, but I love that I keep seeing such lovely artwork. Lebanon and Syria plans are forming, albeit slowly. Reflecting on what's been of my time here, lots of journaling and even some poetry writing.

Outline of an Update

Petra and Wadi Rum.
Sleeping under the stars.
Exhaustion.
Rejuvenation.
Camel Spiders.
Sunrise in the desert.
Training for Trainers beings.
Food poisoning.
Meeting with an old friend.
Conversations on solidarity: what does it mean to be in solidarity with people who aren't in solidarity with you?
Eating chicken, twice, unrelated to food poisoning.
Love for good cameras.
Dancing.
Necklace lost and found by friends.
Practice with boundaries.
Powerful revelations on life, on forgiveness, on family and my future.

Better Details

Ann skipped down the hall singing "Matchmaker" - she wanted me to meet her Arabic teacher's brother, a nice man who teaches math in the U.S. - just in case I wanted to meet a man while I'm here. Who am I to turn down a visit with a family and some coffee, right? And... after all that's happened in my life this year, why not let someone try and find me a husband too? We all sat in the living room and ate melon. I was asked about yoga... and that was about it for that adventure.

Walking back to the flat yesterday there was this little boy with an amazing bike. He had a feather duster on the front, all kinds of decorations woven into the spokes of the wheels, fringe and tassels hanging from the seat, and some super decorated 'jeweled' mud flaps on the back. It was awesome.

I went out on Tuesday night and felt like a big sister. It was a good adventure, but a really odd one. This boy started telling me about the three girls he was in love with... one of whom had told him she was gay, and he asked her if they could try anyway.

Earlier I wrote about our local trainers being only three people, and all being young women (one only 15 years old). The what and why of this has been settled... but illustrates an ongoing problem too. There would have been more trainers, but several have emigrated. One person in my training this week had his UN interview today and needed to pick between Texas, North Carolina and Colorado as relocation sites (All I could give was impressions of the places - I don't know how easy it is to transfer degrees in these places, what the dollar value of services is compared to anyplace else...). Point being - folks get trained and then leave (I supposed AVP has this problem in the prisons as well). The question, in my mind, is how to keep folks that get trained here connected when they go elsewhere.

I'm still having rumbling thoughts about 'conscientious tourism' of trauma and poverty that's non-productive to exploitive and harmful. I'm building up an internal rant on detoxification, mystification and othering of Muslim women that I've seen western folks do. A khimar is not a burqa is not a niqaab, a jilbab is not a burqa... they're different things, they mean different things, and women wear them for many different reasons. And, as an outsider - it's my responsibility to learn to read people in the way that works here - in this culture - not to expect that folks adapt to me or that they're bad at communicating or unwilling to do so because they don't communicate in the ways I'm used to. Oh, and - dressing in a religiously conservative way doesn’t mean that someone isn’t forward, assertive, intelligent or capable. Now I’m looking for some good, simple, loving ways to communicate those ideas more often.

It's great to be among folks who understand talking to the ceiling. Folks who understand that government surveillance is likely, and may as well be laughed at a bit.

There's a job I want to apply for back in Seattle. It's 30 hours a week... it's ridiculous... right? But it'd be an amazing job, and the kind of thing I'd stay in place for. Of course, this isn't a decision I want to make or even think about while here, but the application deadline is in a few days.

In my last outward adventure of the day I got to hear tomato vendors sing their song "red tomatos, from the country, three kilos for a dinar" it was great.

Tomorrow is, apparently, a trip to Petra, which I'm excited to finally return to. Right now, though, I smell popcorn and need dinner.