Kiss My Hand

Yesterday was a day for hand kissing. I woke up relatively early for a Saturday to tackle the dishes I had spread over every surface of the kitchen in the last few days, the residue of cooking furiously and then rushing off to a social event.

It was really beautiful out yesterday. Bright blue skies, a cool breeze. The Khamsini, dust wind, of earlier in the week had blown away and the subsequent cold front and hail storm was almost unimaginable. As I walked down the hill to catch my first taxi of the day I enjoyed the empty lots of grass and wild flowers and people’s gardens full of roses.

After wondering around a bit when I got out of my taxi I found the Sister’s of Mercy’s House of Peace. I was meeting some students from the East West program I work with to spend some time with the adults with disabilities who live there.

Two highlights. One was getting to hold the hand of a girls whose body was kind of scrunched and she couldn’t talk…Ibut she was soo thrilled to have someone sitting and interacting with her in a small way. At first she started laughing hysterically which was kind of frightening and after a while she calmed down some and started kissing my hand which was gross since she couldn’t close her lips. But she was SO happy. And it was such a tiny tiny thing I was doing for her, crouching next to her chair and holding her hand. I’m pretty sure it’s the happiest I’ve made anyone all week and maybe all month. I hope it works out to go back.

The other cool thing was that it was the first time doing any type of community service for one of the guys who came with us. He was really affected by the people he met. As an architecture student he immediately wanted to give more of his unique gifts to make the building nice for the people there with a mural. It’s so exciting to see people interact, especially with people very different than them and the journeys that we go on!

That afternoon I was with the whole group of East West students at the monthly training we put on and a senator came to speak to us. He used to be in television and had a wonderful voice and story telling style. He was sharing stories of his own humble style of leadership and shared about when he kissed to hand of the pope as an act of respect, to the confusion of many of his country men — was he changing religions? No, he shared, just respecting one of the most honored men in the world. As an illustration. He kissed my hand.

So I had my hand kissed by an out cast from society and one of it’s most honored members in the same day.

*If you’ve been checking this blog and I haven’t been posting, I’m really sorry! It’s so hard for me to squeeze this in, but I’m trying to reach my goal of posting weekly!

We’re celebrating Easter here today. HAPPY EASTER!

“It’s like Baghdad…”

That’s what my taxi driver said as I got into his cab and we heard a huge bang go off yesterday. He was an older man, with kind eyes, a beard and white skull cap, showing his devotion to God. The kind of person who I’m always a little afraid will judge or dislike me when I get into a cab.

“I’m afraid,” I agreed in Arabic and in the tension of the moment we made sympathetic eye contact, something I generally try to avoid doing with taxi drivers as it’s not really polite for men and women who don’t know each other well to look each other in the eye.

We looked around. Nothing seemed wrong. My best guess is that a tire exploded on a car nearby. We drove away and didn’t say anything else the rest of the ride (again very politely), but this moment of being frightened together felt very humanizing.

Actually, this city doesn’t have that much in common with Baghdad that at the surface level. The only bridge spans a canyon rather than a major world river (although are there any bridges left in Baghdad? Have they all been destroyed?) The government here is very peaceful and organized.

On the other hand there are thousands of Iraqi refugees here. Like Baghdad there is not a lot of work for them, although it is illegal for them to work here. The children are allowed to go school, but they’re not treated well by their peer and sometimes by their teachers.

I met a taxi driver the other day who spoke some English, again an older man, so I felt comfortable talking to him. At least his white hair made him look old to me. He showed me a picture of his twins. He’s never seen them. They were born after he left Basra in the very south of Iraq 6 years ago. He makes $7 a day driving the most ramshackle taxi I’ve been in here. He can’t afford the $700 trip home to visit his family and return here to work. I don’t think there’s much of an economy in Basra, even though I’ve heard it’s getting more peaceful there.

In other news it’s out and out spring here now. The fields get a little greener every day and I keep seeing new little wild flowers on the empty slope I walk by to catch a taxi in the morning. I even dug a few wild flowers off a hillside and planted them in a planter on my porch. It would be nice to a have a wild flower garden. Hopefully I didn’t do anything too environmentally destructive.

A friend said the other day, people seem even busier here than they do in Boston! I do feel like I’m going, going, going! Which is wonderful since there are so many people to see and I’m enjoying getting to know all of them. People here really love to always have people around. For example, my American friend’s parents are visiting from the US and she was asking our local friend for advice about where to go. My local friend was shocked that the American wanted to rent a car and drive around with just her and her parents. “Won’t you have a better time if you find a tour bus and go with other people??? You and your parents will want company!!!”

Even though I don’t always want company here, I’m thankful for all the people who are welcoming into their lives!