Amman, Jordan
November 19, 2008
Iraqis teach me many things. One is to laugh in spite of myself. I chuckled the other day as I sent a newspaper clipping off to my dear friend Cynthia in Vernon, N.Y. I knew she would enjoy the story “Lonely in Baghdad? Chat up a Bird.” The article speaks of dozens of Baghdadis ignoring the threat to their lives as they flock on Fridays to the animal market Al Ghari. “I don’t go out of my home because of the danger” says one customer. “I decided to buy a parrot who can entertain me.” The son of a prominent seller of exotic animals at the market said “Our situation at the time of Saddam was much better.” He explained that during the former regime pet lovers from Iran and Russia used to regularly visit Al Ghari. “Today we have local customers who like to have birds in their homes, as these people do not step out. But times have changed” he says. As he points a finger to a group of animals, suddenly an African Grey parrot—a new arrival—shouts out: “Down with Bush!” (The Jordan Times, Nov. 15, 2007)
I know how doom and gloom my letters often sound, but I must tell you of the beautiful things that fill my days here. First and foremost of course are the people who welcome me into their lives and how my encounters with them lift me up. But then there is the ceramic cup I hold each morning in my hand and admire as I savor the taste of that first cup of coffee. It was a purchase I allowed myself a couple of months back, and it has given me much pleasure. I often wondered who crafted it, and yesterday to my delight I met the artist, a young woman a couple of blocks away who together with her sister creates such beautiful pottery.
And recently I was able to realize a special wish I’d been harboring. We know a dear woman who has an olive grove on the outskirts of Amman. This friend takes great pleasure in sharing the fruit of her family’s orchard harvest with others. I have been the recipient of a bottle of virgin olive oil made from their olives last Spring. This friend did not forget me when this year’s harvest began! So it was that I got to pick olives for the first time in my life, albeit for only a half hour! Although the visit was much too short, I still carry the beauty of the landscape and the feel of the fleshy black olives between my fingers. I will include a photo I took that day of the rich Jordan valley. If you look closely you can see the Dead Sea hovering between mountains and sky like a white rising sun.
Some beauty however remains beyond my reach, like a distant dream. The Arabic language to be more specific. Only rarely do I experience a moment of recognition and understanding. A source of constant frustration, I sometimes ask myself why I keep plugging along. Twice a week I take classes up the hill at a language center which offers classes in spoken (colloquial) Arabic. We are learning verbs, but I seem completely incapable of remembering even the most simple ones. After spending an hour or so early this morning trying to drill one or two verbs into my head, I picked up the book I am reading called “The Desert Queen.” It is a biography about Gertrude Bell. Able to converse comfortably in French, Italian, German, Persian and even Turkish, Ms. Bell confesses of Arabic “I find it awfully difficult…The worst I think is a very much aspirated H. I can only say it by holding down my tongue with one finger, but then one can’t carry on a conversation with your finger down your throat can you?” I find a measure of comfort in her words, as I feel exactly the same! Iraqi friends have all but given up trying to teach me to pronounce this correctly.
As my time draws to a close here in the Middle East—only a couple of weeks remain until I travel back to the states—I find myself in the “cross over” phase between the reality here and the reality in my own country. Perhaps the struggle to reconcile the two, of wanting to embrace them equally, need not be so cumbersome. In the end it is like having family here and having family there. Where one leaves off, the other begins. We are all one family.
Cathy Breen
