Life's Plans

            As I was finishing my Masters’ degree programs at Seton Hall I did not have the slightest inclination that I would be living in Iraq.  A majority of the job applications that I sent were in New York/New Jersey, Washington DC, New Hampshire, or Massachusetts.  Iraq was nowhere on my radar as far as employment prospects were concerned.  Yet, despite my best efforts to plan otherwise, an unexpected opportunity presented itself and here I am. 

In my three years of grad school I never even started to worry about the “next step” until graduation finally appeared on the horizon.  Many people had positions secured before graduation, and many others were frantically trying to join the club.  Despite graduating into a weak economy, I was confident that something would come up.  My confidence, working in tandem with my laid back attitude, led me to take the application process rather unhurriedly. 

In hindsight, there is certainly more that I could have done to a) explore all opportunities, b) make the most of personal contacts, and c) have things lined up in advance.  However, had my contrivances come to fruition, I would not be writing this blog.  Although there are difficulties, I am ultimately content with my decision to come here.  A book on choices, by Dr. Shad Helmstetter, noted, “The choices we make by accident are just as important as the choices we make by design.”  I find myself irresolute and indecisive on whether I should patiently seize opportunities as they come up or maintain focus on a clearly defined end goal. 

Although any decision on employment is, in all likelihood, 11 months away I still find myself facing this inner conflict.  My inner dalliance with the instantaneous wishes to sweep away any talks of the future until the time comes; the pragmatic, income-calculating realist is already spending nearly 30 minutes a day exploring job opportunities.  Clearly, the situation is not imperative, but the uncertainty of the dreaded unknown can be a lead weight around your neck.  For me personally, it isn’t so much the uncertainty of position that bothers me; it is the uncertainty of location.  I guess I should take heed of my current situation and tell my worries, “Listen, no matter what you have planned in life, you could just end up in Iraq.” 

Carpe Diem

Talking the Talk

           After two months of waiting and memorizing random Kurdish words, last night we officially started formal language lessons.  Up until now there are about 10-15 key phrases which we have down.  I can successfully greet someone hello and goodbye; order my food and ask for take-out at restaurants; read and write Arabic numbers; ask to go to a few locations in town; and a few other assorted phrases and comments.  Having a conversation with anyone is all but impossible, but if I listen hard enough I can pick out words to occasionally discern what they are talking about.  Thus far it has been a slow process, but pronunciation and my ear for the language are improving.  Reading and writing are still equivalent to hieroglyphics. 

            As we stepped into the first class last night I had the odd feeling that, for perhaps the first time in my life, I was probably going to be at the very bottom of the class.  There are about 10 people in class and everyone but Paige and I either can speak/read/write in Arabic; speak in Kurdish but not read or write; or has at least had previous formal training of some combination of the two.  Paige and I are starting tabula rasa, blank slate. 

            I can now completely empathize with the students in my English class who are clearly out of place and have no business being there.  Their skills in the language are well below that of the class average, and it is a struggle for them to keep up.  I am now that person in Kurdish class.  For the first 30 minutes of class I had absolutely no idea what was transpiring before me; I was listening to the teacher lecture in a mix of Arabic, Kurdish, and English.  To make matters more confusing, he wrote notes on the board from right to left and: numbered the lesson in Arabic, wrote some letters in English, some in Kurdish with the Arabic alphabet, and some in Kurdish with the Latin alphabet.  Needless to say, it took me a good deal of time to even discern the difference between an Arabic character and a simple comma. 

            It is a humbling experience to have to entirely learn a new alphabet.  It forcibly takes you back to the level of education of a young child.  But by this point you have accrued various life experiences and lessons, all of which utilize a familiar alphabet, the lowest common denominator of any language.  To learn a new alphabet runs counter to everything you have learned thus far and at least in my mind, there is some resistance to learning a new one.  Latin alphabets are common so languages like French, Spanish, Italian, etc. are difficult, but you can at least look at a word and have some semblance of how to pronounce it.  Looking at words in Arabic I can’t even pick out one letter.  This is definitely going to be a long, drawn out process.  It is one in which I will have to overcome numerous instances where I will inevitably want to throw my hands in the air and capitulate to defeat.

 

            However, that is not going to happen.  While I have no intention of dedicating numerous hours to learning Kurdish, I will maximize the time that I have available in the classroom.  I do not need to be fluent, but if I want to apply for a job I would like to comfortably, and honestly, state that I have a basic familiarity with Kurdish.  Preferably, this knowledge will extend to both the Latin and Arabic alphabets.

My "Wish" Granted

           When I previously blogged about being upset that I was missing the action on protests worldwide, I stated this with the implicit undertone that any form of violence, emanating from protestors or police, was not exactly what I was looking for.  It is more the act of civil disobedience and making your voice heard that interests me; speaking out against systems which have so blatantly run rough shod over the interests of common, everyday citizens.   I do not condone violence in any way and many of the images ranging from American campuses to the streets in Yemen are downright appalling.  To tone deaf governments, sometimes individually speaking up is futile and you need to join together with a common voice in order to demand attention; however, that common voice should never invoke unbridled anger as an emotion, and those common voices should never be treated as hostile dissidents unless they are truly acting as such.    

            After seeing the brief and disorganized protest in front of the University of Duhok I flippantly laughed it off as if it were nothing, a mirage of true activism.  This is a calm area where, to an unknowing foreigner, peace and love reign supreme.  No place is ever fully immune to civic unrest.  Perhaps my previous misconception was only because I am essentially secluded from the civic interactions that regular citizens endure.  Given the language barrier, local news is alien to me and public issues aren’t discussed in detail.  I have a general sense of what is going on, but lack a full understanding.   Well, evidently there has been something brewing.  I am not sure how major it is, but today the pot spilled over. 

            Protests erupted in nearby Zakho which left close to 30 buildings burned and many people wounded.  I heard that another building was burned in Duhok.  This article, in addition to the linked Youtube video, better describe what happened: http://www.ekurd.net/mismas/articles/misc2011/12/state5628.htm

It is now clear why soldiers were lining the streets of Duhok today, presumably to prevent further unrest.  Given my limited understanding of Iraqi politics, varying view points in the article should be taken with a grain of salt.  However, torched buildings are still burned regardless of why. 

            I should say that I do NOT fear for my safety in any way, shape, or form.  This is entirely unrelated to anything that I remotely have anything to do with, and seems to be based in more political infighting as opposed to external factors.  Even if the situation continues to boil for some time, I have a hunch that it will not spark anything dramatic that would warrant me fearing for my personal safety.  With a clear head and enough street smarts to walk away from large crowds, I’m sure that I will be fine.  Just as it is disheartening to see idly sitting protestors get pepper sprayed at point blank range, it is equally disturbing to see mass crowds burning buildings.  When I mention wanting to see people stand up for something, that wasn’t quite what I had in mind.  

Who Turned Out the Lights?

The past few days have been quite eventful to say the least.  One chilly evening about four days ago the power went out.  Not even thinking twice about it, as this is a daily occurrence, I continued whatever it was that I was doing at the time.  Usually it comes back on within an hour at most; most of the power outages are only minor inconveniences.  Within a few hours nothing had happened.   Around 11:30pm, just as my computer was giving way to its exigent need for power, I decided to call it a night as sitting in the dark was a feckless pursuit. 

            This was the earliest I have gone to bed in I don’t know how long, and I didn’t even wake up till around 10:30am.  I awoke from a beautiful, albeit frigid, night’s sleep filled with random, crazy dream adventures, to find a heater that was still off.  Despite my hopes that the rising sun would bring with it electricity, this was not the case.  Hours later and still, regardless of my musings as to finding the source of the problem, and inflammatory cursing at the power grid, the entire building was cold and dark.  At this point it became evident that I would need to a) put up with another night eating and sitting in the dark, or b) find someplace else to go.  My friend Ali, luckily, offered up his house as a place to bide my time until our power returned. 

            Kurdish hospitality took full advantage of the opportunity to prove its worth once again, and within minutes of my arrival I was warmly greeted with snacks and fruits.  Ali’s family was very kind and although there were no beds, only pads surrounding the perimeter of the room, I slept fairly well.  I was kept warm under a hand-made Kurdish blanket and a nearby gas heater.   The only problem, or better put problems, were Ali’s pet birds whose incessant chirping shattered my peaceful slumber at 7:30am.  These birds were the least of my problems for the next few days. 

            Upon arriving back at the Zeri Land flats and still seeing a powerless building, along with a few others, it was evident that there was a larger problem at hand.  After seeing a massive hole in the ground next to the café that sits in front of my apartment, we stopped to ask what happened.  Evidently some idiot decided it would be fruitful to dig into the ground with metal rods; it is my sincere hope that there was a legitimate reason for this, but in his bungling attempt to do God knows what he managed to sever and burn the power lines for 8 buildings, mine being one of them.  After speaking with apartment management we learned that the problem could be resolved in, “one hour, or 4-5 days.”  Typical broad based answer which leaves you asking yourself, why did you bother?  At this point I was already mentally calculating that this could very well turn into a 7+ day affair knowing the oxymoron that is Iraqi efficiency. 

            Not wanting to inconvenience Ali anymore, Paige and I spent the next night at Sabah’s house.   They also live in Zeri Land, although in a different part of the large 20+ building complex.  Hospitality was served in large helpings, but no amount of generosity could alleviate the fact that being a transient is, frankly, a pain in the ass.  Apart from these annoyances, I was particularly aggrieved by the prospective loss of our freshly purchased groceries.  Most important to me was about 5 pounds of chicken in the freezer and the 16 yogurts that I had bought the day before.  After 2.5 days without power, and a puddle of water formulating from freezer ice, you naturally expect that much of the food is going to spoil. 

            The next evening, when the power finally came on, I victoriously took a hot shower after soccer and warmed up my leftovers in the microwave…bliss.  I slept comfortably in my bed, and despite my oncoming cold, I was warm and happy to be “home.”  I knew that I was getting sick but in my state of joy to be back at the apartment, I blithely decided that I wasn’t going to throw away any of the food in the fridge.  I proceeded to enjoy a hearty meal of leftover oatmeal with honey, apples, and walnuts, and followed it up with delicious strawberry yogurt.  Big mistake.  Within hours my normal cold had turned into the worst feeling my stomach had endured in a long time.  It was a brutal combination reminiscent of a terrible hangover combined with the flu and a Pacquiao jab to the gut.  For hours I laid in bed unable to even drink water.  Next time I am considering being “miserly,” aptly described by a friend, I will eat the $6 loss instead of chowing down food that will make me feel completely dreadful. 

            Now that the power is back on, and I am near 100%, all is finally well.  Even though I can’t find good fried chicken to save my soul; the shower still gets water everywhere; and I still have to dry clothes outside in the winter, this is still my “home” away from home and I’m glad that things are back to some sense of normalcy.  

Thanksgiving Abroad

           Holidays are a time to be spent with loved ones.  Regardless of whether you talk to family members every day or on that one day a year, there is a comfort in knowing that you are with your family on special occasions.  Today, which happens to be Thanksgiving, is my first holiday abroad.  As Thanksgiving is not celebrated in Iraq, what goes unseen or unheard can easily go unnoticed.  For much of the day this was the case; business as usual.  Facebook having a scattering of holiday messages reminded me of the festivities back in the US, and this started to make me miss home. 

            The invention of Skype is truly a saving grace for people in my situation.  I am able to talk to and “see” my family, at least for a few minutes.  For this I am incredibly thankful.  But no amount of time in front of the camera can replace the actual sense of togetherness on the holidays.  A holiday is only a holiday because of family.  Without family celebrating a common cause, it is just another day in the year.  I have a strong feeling that being here will make me appreciate the holidays much more when I go home. 

            My biggest fear is that some members of my family won’t be there when I return.  This was something I considered before coming here, but I could not ultimately let it sway my decision.  Papa is 96 years old and is probably in as good of health as a 96 year old can be.  However, it is obviously a tenuous situation and anything could happen at any time.  This holds true of my other grandparents as well.  I desperately hope and pray that the inevitable patiently awaits my return to the US, but these things are entirely out of my control.  For this reason I want to seize every opportunity possible to talk to them.  Days like today are tough and are slightly more emotional because of this. 


----Addition - I just got to Skype with Papa and it lit up my night.  Thank God for technology and these otherwise unavailable opportunities. I have to say that Skyping with him is the absolute epitome of a "feel good moment" if there ever was one.  Thanksgiving is now complete.  :)

            Regardless of what happens, there is no direction but forward.  I have to make the most out of whatever comes my way and trust that, guiding power or not, everything happens for a reason.  I have plenty to be thankful for and absolutely no reason to complain.  I feel that after a fairly solemn post, it is important to reflect on the true meaning of today: gratitude. 

Things I am thankful for: Skype, my family, the ability to read and write, food, steady income, a computer, electricity, a warm bed, the ability to run, my vision, washing machines, refrigerators, hands, the sun, friends, power adaptors, sneakers, my education, opportunities in life, all of my past experiences good and bad, and my favorite prayer, the Serenity Prayer, which I say every day…

God grant me the serenity

to accept the things I cannot change;

courage to change the things I can;

and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;

Enjoying one moment at a time;

Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;

Taking, as He did, this sinful world

as it is, not as I would have it;

Trusting that He will make all things right

if I surrender to His Will;

That I may be reasonably happy in this life

and supremely happy with Him

Forever in the next.

Amen.

Fighting Boredom and Opportunities Ahead

           As a staunch supporter of the notion that Americans work entirely too much, I am never one to complain about having an excess of time for leisurely pursuits.  My current situation in Iraq is leaving plenty of time as we are only working 12 hours per week.  Thus far, I have kept myself entertained through pursuing a combination of varying activities.  I have stayed entirely clear of alcohol or smoking; am reading much more than in the US; have cut down on spending; am eating healthier; and have designed a workout plan to get in better shape.  As a whole, these are all undoubtedly net positives. But there is still something to be desired.  Many times I feel as if I am fighting a losing battle against boredom.

            I have friends here, but they are largely limited to the few people who speak English.  It is much more difficult to broaden your network when the language barrier is so great.  Given that I have been in NJ for 7 years, I am used to being away from my family; however, having to set up time to Skype is far different than randomly sending a text or call.  These two factors contribute to a sense of feeling alone at times.  I fully expected this coming into the position, so I am far from complaining; I am only expressing that it does set in from time to time.  These feelings are compounded by continually having to rely on other people.  I cannot go to the store and ask for a specific product because I don’t know how; I cannot search for stores online because hardly anything has websites.  Thus I am continually having to ask for someone to essentially “hold my hand” to accomplish the most trivial tasks.  No amount of gym time or detachment in a book can mollify these feelings.  It is just something that I have to deal with. 

            Given these feelings, I actually look forward to working more.  I have been staying busy of my own volition, but I prefer to have an increased workload which will also supplement my current income stream.  Political science courses should start up within a few weeks and that will boost my hours up to around 22-24/week, not including lesson plans.  I am not incredibly psyched about teaching English, but teaching Political Science Terminology will hopefully provide a more interesting counterweight.  There is also an opportunity to teach TOEFL courses on the side which we may take advantage of; again, not the ideal position, but it is a means to an end.  I will still have a 3 day weekend and plenty of extra time for personal pursuits.  But I am still hoping for more. 

We recently met with the Vice Governor of Duhok as well as a member of Kurdish Parliament; both are fully supportive of our idea to start an NGO in Duhok.  With another Member of Parliament also expressing interest, we should have three high profile politicians secured to serve on our Establishing Committee.  They may even fund our initiative, which will be entitled the “Civil Society Development Institute.”  Starting this NGO was a main goal of my coming here, so I am excited about this opportunity.  It will not only provide additional income, but provide some quality hands-on experience with NGOs; connections to other international NGOs; a resume boost; and something to fill my voids in schedule.  The only problem is that things move slower than molasses here so I reasonably do not expect anything to start until January at the earliest.  Just like my vacation in December with Melissa, at least I have something on the calendar to look forward to!  

Aqrah

            Today’s journey into the great unknown led us to the city of Aqrah.  At this point it seems redundant to say it was a nice little town nestled in the mountains; nearly every town in northern Kurdistan comfortably fits this description.  In this respect there wasn’t much that made it stand out, except for a clear path to the top of a mountain with AWESOME views.  You could see for miles: rolling hills; rugged terrain; elevated houses; meandering roads; and a random donkey solemnly attached to a lonely post. 

            As you will see in this picture, I have a new hat called a Jemadani.  Turbans are common across Muslim cultures, and this one is the Kurdish style.  Given that blondes with blue eyes are about as common as giant dragons here, Paige is usually subject to the most indiscreet gawking; however, armed with my new Jemadani, I believe that the oddity that was my outfit evened the playing field.  At times it seems as if the two of us were a walking tourist attraction.  In most places drawing that much attention, even without the hat, would make me feel uneasy, but not here.  The people are truly so amicable and benevolent that you feel nothing but the absolute best of intentions. 

            Another example of this is that we were invited to a village to have lunch with one of our ESL students, Aras.  The spread that lay before us consisted of two rice dishes, each topped with chicken and lamb; Kurdish version of salad; chickpea and onion soup; vegetable soup; olives; and fresh bread.  In the houses that I have been to there have not been any kitchen tables so we all sit around the food which is centrally placed on a mat.  It is convenient in the sense that everyone has equal access to all dishes, and it is accommodating for large numbers; however, after a while it can be quite uncomfortable if you are not accustomed to sitting cross-legged for extended periods.  After lunch the trays of food kept on coming.  Chai tea soon follows the meal and a tray of dessert is close behind.  I have been regulating my portion sizes quite well, but one visit to a family will change all of that.  Before you have completed your first dish the second helping is being piled on, and I have come to realize that, “No, thank you, I am full,” roughly translates to, “Oh my God, please give me more.”  It was a delicious meal which inevitably led to a sedated state of food coma. 

            This particular household had 14 people living there.  There were so many children running around it could have easily been mistaken as an after school program.  It seemed as if every time one of them left a room, they promptly entered a cloning machine and then re-entered with their new counterpart.  Paige and I sat there as the centers of attention in a room filled with over 20 people, only two of which spoke English.  Positively, we could say whatever wanted knowing full well that nobody could understand us if we spoke quickly enough; contrarily, this left some moments where we were both left not really sure what to do except smile and nod.  Despite obvious communication barriers, it was never really awkward and the atmosphere was light hearted and fun. 

            Whereas in the US we depart from home at age 18, here you typically stay until you are married, and even then it is no guarantee that you will embark on your own.  Financially, this saves a great deal of money and I have consistently found that these large households all pool their income together, jointly increasing their purchasing power.  It is entirely a collective effort.  These methods draw many questions in my mind as I consistently want to ask: How do you deal with a financially irresponsible family member?  What happens if someone draws more money out of your collective holdings than they contribute?  How do you decide on large purchases?  For an American who has a laser-like focus on personal finances, it would be incredibly difficult for me to live in this system.  However, it seems to work for them quite well.  As I continue to learn more I will undoubtedly want to write about this financial collectivity again.  

Epic Battle

           For reasons that continue to elude me, I still cannot understand how mosquitoes sneakily make their way into our Zeri Land Apartment.  It seems as if every day there are a few of these furtive creatures that somehow, beyond all reason, gain entry to our 4^th floor apartment.  Their numbers are not indicative of an infestation, as there are only a few a day.  However, their mere presence stirs a great deal of petulance and eagerness to rid the apartment of this lingering problem once and for all.  Despite my best efforts to close every nook, cranny, and orifice, the mosquito ninjas prevail. 

            Most of these miniature bedevilments are quickly killed upon sight.  We have become quite proficient in the business of aeronautical insect disposal.   However, every once in a while we will come across the lone, maverick mosquito who is clearly well skilled in evasive maneuvers.  These Top Gun insects must have been at the top of their flight class as they swiftly move with great alacrity.  Last night, I had an epic battle with one of these creatures.  I chased him all over the room; tried tricking him by flickering lights; tried to lure him out of his hiding spots; and swung and missed him at least three times.  After nearly 30 minutes of ill-fated pursuit, I despondently went to bed. 

            To my surprise, when I awoke I found the creature fluttering about in front of my eyes, as if he was taunting me after completing a most delectable breakfast.  HA!  The last laugh was mine, however, as his transient existence would soon come to end at the brunt of my ESL book.  It was a Pyrrhic victory, albeit in the most infinitesimal sense, but a victory nevertheless.  This was truly the cagiest mosquito yet, and hence I felt it necessary to blog about him, may he rest in peace.  Not to mention that we have a 10-day vacation and I have absolutely nothing else to do.  

Immaculate to Grotesque

            In another solid showing of hospitality, Paige and I were invited over to our friend Salih’s house to eat some dolma, a stuffed vegetable dish which is considered a Kurdish specialty.   It takes a lot of preparation and is a hearty dish.  It consists of many vegetables including tomatoes, green beans, onions, and potatoes all stuffed with this rice mixture.  Here is a picture:

            This is probably the 4^th different Kurdish person’s house that we have gone to, and the results have all been the same: ornate decorations coupled with an immaculate cleaning job.  In middle school my friends used to say that my house in NH was out of a magazine due to its cleanliness and the decorations.  I like to think of myself as neat and organized, but all of these houses are absolutely spotless.  It appears as if a professional cleaner lives and works non-stop in the homes.  It is actually quite impressive, especially considering that many of the families have multiple children running around. 

             The architecture of the houses is visibly appealing and gives otherwise indistinctive neighborhoods a charming feel to them.  You do not see two houses next to each other that are exactly the same.  All of the houses are quite different and have a fascinating design that exemplifies a construction process and architectural designs that are nowhere near what we typically see in the West.  There are no yards, and little to no grass, but there are numerous balconies.  Even though the houses adjoin those of their neighbors, large walls give some semblance of privacy.   Here is an example of a one of the houses:

     

Now, I’ll move on to the disgusting part of this post.  During dinner we were told about this dish called Pacha that is consumed all across the Middle East and even into Iran, Georgia, and Armenia.  It is a traditional dish which consists of a sheep’s head, stomach, and feet being boiled into this broth and soaked up with bread. As if this wasn’t grotesque sounding enough, the cheeks and tongues are considered the most desired parts, and the stomach can be stitched closed and filled with rice and vegetables.  I consider myself to be an adventurous person, but there is frankly no way in hell I am trying this dish.  After a quick Google search I read about the dish and found the following pictures.  The fact that Pacha consistently ranks as one of the weirdest and most unappetizing dishes in the world doesn’t make it any more appealing.  Just like the scene in the Chinese restaurant from, “A Christmas Story,” I don’t want my meal watching me as I eat it.  

Pacha may be absolutely delicious, but I will never know. 

Lalish

For the next 10 days we are on holiday due to the Eid.  I don’t know enough about this holiday to adequately describe it, but I can say that it is about four days long and involves a lot of visiting family members and constant feasting.   For us Americans this translates to a lot of down time and relaxation, which is most welcome at this time.  Today we decided to take a trip, with two of our Kurdish friends, to the city of Lalish in northern Iraq. 

            This city, sacred to the Yazidi religion, is about an hour away from Duhok.  Most of the tidbits we have heard about the Yazidi people so far have been tainted with skepticism and disdain; they have even been referred to as “devil worshippers” by Muslims.  Given that the Yazidi claim to have been around long before Islam, inhabit the same region, and live fairly different lives than your average Kurds, this is semi-expected and must be taken with a grain of salt.  After doing a little bit of my own research online there are certainly some odd intricacies about the Yazidi people, i.e., not accepting converts, not allowing intermarriage with other faiths, having a caste system, not stepping on doorways, having a family never leave the holy site, etc.  These types of beliefs certainly seem odd to any outsider; however, in my opinion, just about all of organized religion has odd beliefs and rituals, most of which seem ridiculous when examined with rational thought. 

            Lalish itself was quite small, and was essentially a quaint village tucked in the mountains.  At first glance you would not think it to be the holy site, akin to Mecca, for a religion with over 300,000 followers in Iraq alone.  As we approached the village two things were clear: we had no idea where we were going, and everyone seemed to wear suits or dresses but barefoot (in holy sites you must remove your shoes).  I was incredibly thankful to have our Kurdish friends, Aza and Herman, with us to guide the way.  Despite our friends being Muslim and the village being, I imagine, 100% Azidi, the common language of Kurdish allowed us to meet a friendly gentleman who took us to the sacred temple and arranged for a free tour for us. 

            The temple itself was nothing spectacular, and bore no resemblance whatsoever to elaborate Western churches or intricately designed Eastern mosques.  It was a simple building with conical shaped figures at the top.  After removing our shoes in order to enter the temple we found that the interior walls remained empty except for the black marks where candles had been lit.  There was no decoration in the temple, except the large amounts of cloth tied to central pillars.  We were told that Yazidi would place money in the cloth and then tie it to the pillar; after a certain amount of time they would come back and get it and they would have good luck.  Something could have been lost in translation here, but as we continued through the temple the theme of good luck continued to appear.

            In the next room we saw people trying to throw a cloth onto the remnants of what looked like an old statue.  You had to close your eyes and throw the cloth onto the statue’s head.  If you succeeded on the first try, your heart is pure and your wish would come true.  You had a second try if your first attempt failed, but anything after that you were out of luck.  Paige and I both landed the cloth squarely on the first try, which made me internally chant, “USA! USA!”  Additional rooms in the temple were similarly indistinctive, and the rest were filled with large urns which the Yazidi had previously used to store olive oil.  Fresh water from the mountains flowed into small pools in the temple, and these were considered holy.  In the final room we found two small holes in the ground.  One was supposed to represent paradise, and the other represented hell.  The idea was to stick your hand in both holes; paradise would feel far cooler, and hell would feel hotter on your hand.  I felt nothing, but I was nonetheless intrigued by sticking my hand in this strange pair of apertures.    

            Departing the temple we continued our ascent through the village.  Stares were coming from every direction, but this was not surprising since it happens just about everywhere and I am not sure how many Americans have ever gone to Lalish.  Neither of our Kurdish friends had ever been either.  As we climbed up staircases interwoven in what seemed like people’s houses, we came to the top of the village.  The conical shaped Yazidi structure was prominently featured for the whole village to see, and the panoramic view was quite picturesque.  All in all, my experience in Lalish was a brief but worthwhile experience.  I did not get to learn much about their people or culture, but to see something different than what you are used to is almost always a net positive.  

Frustration to Mollification, Mob Money, and Protests

         On countless occasions I have wanted to throw my hands up in the air and resign myself to the belief that the unceasing inefficiency we are presented with would render my stay here fruitless.  It is only through the equally powerful countervailing presence of splendid hospitality that mollifies my state of angst.  It seems that every time we face situations where the outcome is nowhere near what we had hoped for, but unfortunately have come to expect, someone is there to pick us up, often unknowingly, with a simple act of kindness. 

            These efforts are by no means coordinated, for it seems that nothing here is truly coordinated.  I am now convinced that this sense of “otherness” is actually engrained in the people.  Considering the blunders in planning that we encounter on a near daily basis, it seems evident that this overwhelming hospitality is not nascent; it has been cultivated since birth.  Whenever you go to someone’s house you are treated as if you are royalty.  Drinks are brought to you on trays; an array of delectable treats, appetizers, and main courses are laid before you; and they will expect nothing from you but your company.  I can honestly say that I wish people were this friendly and welcoming in the United States. 

            After class many of my students will not even leave the room before I do.  No one will allow me to open a door for them as they must hold it for me.  If we ever reach to pay for something our efforts are almost always thwarted.  To become a member at the local gym there is a fee of 25,000 IQD/month ($22).  I have been going for over a month and have not once been asked for anything.  One of my friends even stated, “They wouldn’t dare.”  I was slightly confused by this at first, but in the overall context of their deference to foreigners it makes more sense.  Their laissez-faire attitude is no doubt amplified because I am an American and they want me to feel welcome in their country.  In my personal life here, this is greatly appreciated and has no doubt made a lasting impression. 

            Contrarily, when it comes to my working life, wrangling with this lack of real productivity and laid back attitude has left quite an impression as well.  Sometimes it feels as if people around us brainstorm the best and most efficient way to achieve a goal; and then summarily execute the opposing approach.  If it was not for the ability to work out and play sports on a near daily basis, combined with the convivial nature of the people, I’d probably be feeling much more reticent about sharing this experience.  Alhamdulillah (Thank God) for mixed blessings. 

Mob Money    

            Iraq has a largely cash economy.  There is little to no evidence of credit cards, save for the major institutions, and many citizens do not even hold bank accounts.  They simply keep all of their cash at home.  So far, we haven’t really had much of a need for plastic, and due to our limitations on activities in town, our expenses have managed to stay fairly low.  We are paid a salary of $2,500 per month and probably spend around $350.  The rest of my money is primarily allocated to student loans, despite my inner grumblings about the cost of higher education in America.  Herein lays the problem.  In a primarily cash economy with an inchoate banking system, my options to repatriate my income are extremely limited.  Evidently, Western Union does not ship money to the United States due to worries about money laundering, and many banks here do not even have the capability to wire cash to Western banks.  I am faced with two stark choices: keep all of my cash in my room, or pay an exorbitant fee of 2.5% to wire it back home. 

            As this picture indicates, having this much cash on hand is reminiscent of playing Monopoly.  Last month I was paid in all $100 bills; this time I was paid in denominations of 10,000 IQD…totaling 2.4 million.  When I was handed the manila envelope folded over it felt as if I had just earned my way into the mafia, or just consummated a major drug deal.  It was comic yet concerning; I don’t know of any American who would carry this much cash, especially given our adversity to risk.  I aim to resolve this situation as soon as possible, even if that means buying some chrome colored suits and hiring a few henchmen.  At least I can pretend I’m in the mafia…

Protests

            First emerging in the Middle East with the Arab Spring, and now diffusing across the globe with Occupy Wall Street, it seems as if 2011 is the year of protests demanding social change.  Considering I was in NH when protests erupted in the Middle East, and am now in the Middle East as protests are spreading across the US and Europe,  I have yet to come into contact with any major movement.  I happen to think that protests can be a valuable tool, but the end game and how your movement plans to change reality is the primary concern.  For this reason I probably would not be partaking in any protests if I were back home; however, I still want to see what is going on!  

            Well, it seems as if my wish was granted, at least to a minor degree.  We heard that 500+ students were planning a protest outside the University of Duhok to demand changes in the education system.  Feeling a tinge of excitement, I was ready to see the power of collective action!  Going outside the university I managed to see about 100 people chanting fairly loudly, with many holding signs that I could not read due to the language barrier.  The mantra of this whole ordeal was beyond me, but I was nevertheless interested.  News crews were there to capture the action and were interviewing charismatic students.  And then, almost as quickly as people gathered, they went off in their own directions.  It had to be the quickest protest I have ever seen.  After noting their lack of resolve, at least compared to OWS and the Arab Spring, we joked that they all seemed to say, “Well, we made our point. I hope they heard us and do something.  Let’s go have tea.”  At least I got to see some form of protest, despite its fleeting nature. 

ESL, Social Constructs, & Development

Up until now Paige and I have only been teaching English to the faculty of the College of Engineering.  Our task was to, “get the teachers comfortable speaking in English and build their confidence.”  There was no book to follow and no set lesson plans.  For the past month we have been creating lessons completely on the fly.  Utilizing a variety of activities including impromptu speeches, debates, lessons in grammar, and writing prompts, we have been able to sufficiently fill 2 hours a day for 5 days a week.  However, without any set structure moving forward, our class has essentially peaked. 

To our chagrin, a common theme permeating the university is that lessons in grammar and vocabulary are not really necessary.  Their idea is that if you practice speaking enough you will correct your own mistakes.  I understand this argument to a point.  Confidence in speaking is highly important and countless lessons in grammar will not help you to think in English.  A lot of our students have a decent vocabulary but are not used to actually utilizing it in real life situations.  Practicing speaking and not just repeating is highly important.  Regardless, it is impossible to correct your mistakes if you do not know what they are.  Given the unstructured nature of the class and the resistance to real lessons, this class is nearing its limitations.   Progress can certainly still be made, but not nearly as much as if we divided up the class into separate levels and taught them accordingly.  A “one size fits all” approach can only take you so far. 

             As our classes with the faculty come to an end, we are now starting the ESL program.  In terms of structure, this program is a complete change in direction.  For the first time since my arrival here in Iraq I received a written schedule.  It was shocking to say the least.  The 10 hours we were teaching for the Engineering Department have been replaced with 12 hours of ESL, 3 days a week, 4 hours a day.  To put the level of the students into perspective, all of them had to take a diagnostic test which was scored from 1-100.  The students in my “Starting Skills” course scored from 6 to the high 20s; my “Level 1” course scored up to 40.  Needless to say, I have to repeat myself a lot. 

            Although the first day was stressful and slightly nerve wracking, I am excited about this new challenge.  When you can recognize the fruits of your labor just by talking to someone you do not need any affirmation as to what kind of job you are doing.  I have often heard parents say that it can be tough with small children because you, “always need to be on you’re A game.”  I do not have any children, but I find myself with a similar feeling in basic ESL.  Working with the lower level students requires a great deal of patience, clarity, understanding, and the ability to instill confidence.  I do not know what having a child is like, but I can surmise that these qualities come at a premium, especially when you have to exhibit them all the time.    Oh well, I guess that 10 hour work weeks would not last forever! 

Social Constructs

            I have written about some of the differences between Kurdistan and the United States, and I would be remiss if I did not further elaborate on the different social constructs we have created.  Over the course of my month in the KRG I have made a series of small, and seemingly independent, observations: how men always dress up, no one is jogging or riding bikes, there is strong pressure to marry before 30, women do not frequent certain establishments, etc.  For all of these everyday occurrences, there is no written law.  Women are free to do as they please; men can wear what they want, etc.  However, the social constructs which have firmly taken hold do not permit certain activities. 

            Men almost always wear dress shoes, slacks, and a button down shirt.   The reason?  They do not want people to think poorly of them.  You will never see a woman near a liquor store, bar, or smoking narghile (hookah).  The reason?  They do not want anyone to see them and think that they are women of low moral standing.  Men want to marry early because they fear that no one will take them later on in life and it reflects poorly on them to be single for too long.  You can see this line of thought clearly developing, and it even extends to otherwise trivial things like riding bikes.  The reason men don’t ride bikes?  They do not want people to think, “What is he doing? Why doesn’t he have a car?”  This social pressure that they have created, at first glance, is ridiculously constraining.  While I tend to agree, it does serve a clearly recognizable purpose. 

            Crime rates are lower here despite an overall lower standard of living, at least by Western measurements.  There is little to no evidence of social unrest, and problems with drugs or alcohol seem to be nonexistent.  Everyone is incredibly friendly, hospitable, and family oriented.  I think most people could agree that these are net positives.  These latent, constraining forces, while impinging on their sense of freedom, do seem to hold people to a higher standard, at least publicly.   As I mentioned before, everyone seems to act like a diplomat for the Kurdish people.  Perhaps there is a reason for this; they view themselves as more than representing themselves, they are representing not only their family, which is of the utmost importance, but also other Kurds. 

Development

            Not counting food, there has not been one “modern” convenience which I have found myself unable to attain.  Just like any Western household or community, Duhok has grocery stores, local businesses selling everything from tires to carpets, electricity, plumbing, large organizations, etc.   Considering that I have heard statements or questions on more than one occasion which would leave one to believe I was living with a camel in the desert, this is quite important. 

            Despite having most things at my fingertips, just like at home, when you live here the glaring differences between the 2^nd world and the modern, industrialized world begin to expose themselves.  The water will periodically sputter and go out for maybe 30 minutes; there will be sporadic power outages; public bathrooms smell putrid; entire unwrapped chickens will be tossed into freezers at the corner store; rules of the road are merely suggestions; and the level of workplace productivity is excruciatingly low, despite constant claims of, “being so very busy.”  Most of this only amounts to minor frustrations and a few good laughs, especially at the frozen chickens.  However, time and time again I find myself thinking that they aren’t necessarily doing the “wrong” things; they could just be doing the same things more efficiently and effectively.  Regardless of whether it is clamping down on workplace inactivity or installing air fresheners in the bathrooms, sometimes it feels like doing anything could take weeks.  This mindset of constantly trying to improve your lot and overall situation is perhaps the first step to bridging that gap from 2^nd world to 1^st.  

                                        This picture of the frozen chickens is too comical to not share.