Sadik and the Saga

John and Sadik*

Okay.  I'll confess.  I don't understand all of the Arabic that's going on around me during a conversation.  In reality, it's goes something like this:

Bam, ;alksdjfj;la a;lskjdf;lkja;lkjlkfjd house zxncvoiaelk,nadd eat aa;lkdjbpoiautpoit daughter a;lkdjbpoia.zmnc we go alndoiaj.dnvoaijd, yes?

At this point, I have 3 choices.  Choice #1:  I nod my head in agreement.  However, the last time I did that I had agreed to trade my daughter in marriage for 1000 camels.  Choice #2:  Stare blankly until they change the subject. Choice #3:  Ask them to repeat what they just said.

Quiet street in the morning...

All have pitfalls from unplanned nuptials to being perceived as "slow of thought" to sitting through another run at the conversation and perhaps picking up an additional 2 or 3 words.

With this in mind, I bring you today's incident.  Yes, incident.

You see, Sadik, our faithful friend and taxi driver has been telling us for weeks that his daughter (who lives in Cairo) is having a baby.  Since our conversation topics are still rather limited, I try to always ask about his family and his daughter.

"Has she had the baby yet?" I ask.

Insert another confessional note here:  This is after a two week self-imposed translation trauma when Sadik patted his stomach, said something about a doctor and trouble.  My take was a diagnosis of stomach cancer and Sadik would be rushed to Cairo for surgery.  This was NOT the story.  We later found out that he had been patting his stomach in reference to his daughter and a coming baby whom he would visit soon in Cairo.  (Sadik by the way is in fine health as far as I can tell.)

"Lissa, (not yet)" he replies.

"When is she due?" I follow up.

He then goes into a litany of discussion.  Now I will say that a lot of our local friends will purposely slow down their speech and enunciate more clearly because they know we are listening carefully.  Sadik has not adopted this practice.  In fact, his story delivery is in direct connection to his driving style.  Real fast.  Stop abruptly.  Swerve.  Real fast again.

Today was no different.  John talked to him for a while when Sadik brought up the topic of his daughter.  

"Has she had a baby yet?" I asked. 

He shakes his head no and goes into the most detail yet about her situation.  I swear he's making up new words just to keep me guessing.  How hard can this subject be?  She's expecting a baby and the baby will soon come.  Right?  Right, Sadik?  (Insert crickets chirping.)

John ran inside to pay a bill so I waited in the backseat of the taxi.  Sadik received a phone call shortly after.  He smiled broadly and told me it was his daughter.  He talked with her for a while and then handed me the phone.  (This is not an uncommon practice to greet a complete stranger on the phone by request of a friend.)

I spoke with her for a few minutes and then handed the phone back to Sadik.  John returned from his errand and also had opportunity to greet Sadik's daughter.  

We finished our running and was saying goodbye to Sadik.  I went inside while John pulled Sadik aside to get the story on his daughter.  

I peeked around the corner and saw Sadik gesturing wildly.  I laughed and went to put the groceries away.

John came in shortly after and said, "Well, I got the scoop. Finally."

He then went on to relay that Sadik's daughter has been unable to have a baby so she and her husband will be going through IVF next week.  

This is very different information from what we had derived from prior conversations.  John said that this time Sadik's charades helped with his lack of this particular vocabulary.  "Ahhhhh, glad I wasn't there for this discussion," I shivered.

We know now how to pray for Sadik and his daughter.  In this culture, if a woman is unable to have a baby within the first 2 years of marriage her husband is likely to divorce her and marry someone who can.  (It is rarely believed that the husband could be the one with the issue.)

So we continue 5 days a week, 5 hours a day in deep study of Arabic while spending our other hours living life alongside these beautiful, story-telling people.  Just pray that I somehow will I understand the right story...

Angels Unaware

A couple weeks ago, John received an email from a friend saying that his friend would be passing through our city and wondered if she could stay with us.  Without batting an eye, John agreed to host said friend.  (Are you sticking with me on this?)

Then last week John casually mentions that the cyclist should be arriving on Wednesday.  Cyclist?  What cyclist?  John says, "Oh, you know the one that is coming through on her bike tour."

No.  I'm afraid I don't remember.  We bantered back and forth until he finally admitted that it may have just been a conversation in his head rather than in real life.  Then he tosses the verbal ball back in my court and says, "It is fine, isn't it?"

I paused for a second and shrugged.  "Sure.  Why not?"  I sprang into action and began preparing the guest room with clean sheets, welcome basket, local reading and a mint on her pillow.

We gave her directions to our house and she arrived looking a bit weary, but smiling.  We introduced ourselves and took her to her room.  Kim* parked her bike and dropped her bags.  I gave her some something to drink and asked if she'd like to rest.

She responded by saying that she had just met another traveling girl on the ferry from Sudan.  This girl was also passing through town and didn't have a place to stay.  Would it be possible for her to come here as well?

John and I looked at each other and said, "Of course! Where is she right now?"

She told us that she was at the bus station trying to figure out where to go next.  John called Sadik and the two of them went looking for her.  I started to ask Kim what she looked like, but John assured me that the foreigner probably wouldn't be hard to spot.  Oh, yeah.

About 30 minutes later, Ketvya* walked through the door.  She unloaded her large backpack and introduced herself.  We welcomed her with a glass of water and then all sat together in our living room.

Kim cycles across countries taking pictures and soaking up culture.  She had carefully saved prior to this and had her money and route planned out.  Ketvya had been backpacking for over 2 years through more countries than I could remember.  I looked at them both thinking about their stories and wondered what their parents thought about these 20-somethings trekking the world alone.

Both girls took turns showering while I began to prepare dinner.  They appeared refreshed and we sat down at the table, dining by the light of the Christmas tree.

Ketvya said, "I haven't seen a Christmas tree in a long time!" Ah, another Christmas deco lover!

We chatted about this and that, but I found myself growing more and more curious and more and more like a mother.

Why do you do this?
How do you live?
What does your mother think?
Isn't it unsafe to travel alone?
What does your mother think?
How do you decide where to go next?
What does your mother think?

However, we tried to be courteous and not too invasive.  Our local friend offered to take us sailing so we invited the girls to go with us.  What fun we had floating down the Nile, sharing lunch together and listening to Ketvya sing 60s songs with her ukulele.

As I laid my head down to sleep, I began to panic.  We don't know these girls.  They could be…crazy or thieves or spies or axe murderers!  Why did we agree to this?  No one is going to find our bodies.  Who will make sure our girls get my recipe box and bead collection?

I began to get myself worked up when I heard one of the girls laugh.  They sounded so much like our daughters.  Wouldn't I want someone to take our girls in if they needed shelter?  Wouldn't I want someone to show them kindness?  Yes, of course.

Even more, I remembered the verse in the Bible that I had been taught, "Be ready with a meal or a bed when it’s needed. Why, some have extended hospitality to angels without ever knowing it!" (Hebrews 13:2).  

As a child I had always wondered what the angel on my doorstep would look like.  Would he have giant wings or maybe look like Roma Downey?  I wasn't sure.  

On this night as I drifted to sleep peacefully, I thanked Jesus for his love for me and also for these two beautiful souls He entrusted to us.

They each prepared a meal representative of their home culture, washed the dishes and made their beds.    Perfect houseguests.  We exchanged information and promised that we would stay in contact.

As I watched them leave and we stood waving goodbye, I prayed a silent prayer of blessing:

“The Lord bless you and keep you;
The Lord make His face shine upon you,
And be gracious to you;
The Lord lift up His countenance upon you,
And give you peace.”’

Angels unaware?  I'm not sure, but I do know that these amazing girls reminded me of how we're all recipients of God's kindness and grace wherever we may come from.  May we live with an open hand always accompanied by an open heart.

*Not their real names

Joy to the World...Even Here

Necessary decorating tools...

This week is Operation: Decoration.  As is our routine, we begin decorating for Christmas the day after Thanksgiving (and the watching of "White Christmas").  I pulled out our totes and began looking through the items that I had packed over a year ago.  Some decos came from my amazing mother-in-love who has an "emporium" of goods at her fingertips at all times.  Seriously, even SANTA shops at her house.  A few things that were sentimental made it out of S*dan last January when we were given the "bum's rush" out of the country.

I gathered all of it together and proceeded to deck the halls.  It took 2 totes for our Christmas tree, but it was worth every ounce.  There are a few places here that sell artificial Christmas trees, but if you aren't into the "Charlie Brown look" you need not bother.

I poured John and myself a cup of eggnog (made from a powdered mix that I had also been saving), put on Christmas music and began hanging our shatterproof ornaments on all the newly fluffed branches.  I was humming to myself and having a ball.  

A few minutes into it I went to the tote to get a few more things.  Where are my snowmen?  Or even a snowMAN?!  I rifled through both boxes and found nothing.  Don't panic, Pam.  Surely, my "Merry Christmas" sign is around here somewhere.  No go.  I stood in disbelief.  I had one of THE most extensive snowmen collection this side of the Sahara.  In fact, I had been mocked on numerous occasions for such ridiculous displays since snow is absolutely never a possibility here.  Still, they made me smile.

John noticed my pause and asked what was wrong.  I told him, "I can't find my snowmen or my 'Merry Christmas' sign."  I could feel tears welling in my eyes.  

"They didn't make it out?" he asked.

"I thought they did, but I guess not."

He gave me a hug and said, "We'll work to rebuild our collection."

I nodded but said, "I can't replace the snowman with red dots on his face commemorating Aria's Christmas bout with chicken pox…or the snowman made out of a tube sock from my nephew…"

I concluded my vent with, "Sometimes this life is hard."

Ahhhhh, beautiful tree...

John came and gave me a hug knowing that any suggestions at how to "fix" this would not be welcomed.  He let me have my "moment" and soon I had almost recovered with a good talking to myself which included phrases like, "Come on, Pam, it's just stuff" and "This is definitely a 'first-world' problem, get a grip!"  

Just then Bing Crosby began singing, "Joy to the world the Lord is come!"  I paused and thought, "I really, really like that song."  

Then I thought, "This may be my favorite Christmas song ever." 

"No, maybe this is my favorite song ever in history."

I continued singing with Bing:

Let earth receive her King!
Let every heart prepare Him room!
And heaven and nature sing,
And heaven and nature sing,
Let heaven and heaven and nature sing.

"Joy" goes with me everywhere.  Not in a tote, not wrapped in bubble wrap, not in a carry-on, but in me and surrounding me with the knowledge that the Lord has come!  No government, no "crack-down", no coup, no expulsions, no (dare I even put this in the same sentence) missing ornaments…can take the joy that Jesus has placed in my heart.  Jesus coming, truly is joy to the world!

Joy to the world! the Savior reigns:
let men their songs employ
while fields and floods rocks hills and plains
repeat the sounding joy
repeat the sounding joy
repeat repeat the sounding joy

No more let sins and sorrows grow
nor thorns infest the ground:
he comes to make his blessings flow
far as the curse is found
far as curse is found
far as curse is found

He rules the earth with truth and grace,
and makes the nations prove
the glories of his righteousness
and wonders of his love
and wonders of his love
and wonders of his love

Thanksgiving: UN Style

You can ask anyone who knows me well that when it comes to hosting events: 1) I love it and 2) I am obsessively organized about preparation.  One of the two of these characteristics may or may not experience great angst by the time the telling of this story is over.

We had postponed our Thanksgiving celebration until Saturday so that the maximum number of people could attend.  I had written earlier that we had received a few "hard" confirmations and also some "soft" maybes (or inshallahs in this country).

I woke up early to begin preparing for guests.  I had spent Friday in full-blown "bake mode" so that Saturday could be a more leisurely pace of tasks.  I pulled out my list which had all the dishes that I would be serving along with their start times for heating, length of baking, etc.  (I warned you I was obsessive.)

John helped me put the final touches around the house by hanging up a few pictures that I had found in our last batch of luggage.  Bing was singing in the background, "I've Got Plenty to Be Thankful For…" and the pumpkin pie looked like it was supposed to… Things were shaping up for a good holiday.

Around 10, John received a call from one of our Egyptian friends who asked if he still wanted to go to the furniture-making place. (Oh, so this is what our friend meant when he said that he would "see us Saturday" but would not be coming to dinner because he was "too shy."  Ah, it's finally clear to me.) John agreed so he left and went to meet our friend at the marina. 

Our neighbors called and asked if they could come early to begin prepping their dishes.  I told them, "Come on!"  We were all working in the kitchen getting things together when our German lady invitee and our French man invitee arrived.  We have only recently met either of them and thought this would be a good chance to get to know them.  

Josie* gave me a kiss on both cheeks and presented me with a card.  Louis* greeted us and handed me a bottle of wine. Ah, the French!  They are both in their retirement years and chose to come to our part of the world because of the weather.  Josie mentioned that her arthritis does much better here than in the cold, snowy days in Germany.

I put the card on our desk to read later and took the wine and placed it in the back of our refrigerator.  Our guest was gracious to think of us, but 1) we are not drinkers, 2) our M*slim friends were about to arrive (It is not permitted for M*slims to drink alcohol) and 3) Louis did not speak any English or Arabic, only French.  I speak no French.  Therefore any discussions or explanations about this or anything else would be extremely limited.

Our other Canadian friends arrived and soon the potluck meal was taking shape.  I had just whipped the potatoes with an obscene amount of butter when I realized that we were still missing one Egyptian family.  We checked on them and received word that they would be there in "2 minutes."  I smiled and hoped it would be under 20.  My index card with food countdowns had already included 60 minutes delay for late arrivals.  We were now embarking on 70-80 minutes...breathe, Pam, breathe.  They did arrive in good fashion and soon we were all together.

12 adults and 4 children sat down together, held hands as John thanked Jesus for allowing us to all be together and explaining the meaning of Thanksgiving.  I became a good Egyptian mother and began placing large heaps of potatoes, meat and veggies on our guests' plates.  Most had never had southern sweet potato casserole and it proved quite a hit.  We had all managed to create a very typical American Thanksgiving meal which is quite impressive since John and I were the only Americans in the room.

Thanksgiving Forks--a Family Tradition

As is tradition, I had placed our "trick forks" at 3 different places on the table.  John first stretched his out and demonstrated its use.  Soon everyone looked at their forks to see if they had one.  Only 2 other lucky ones did.  We got a good laugh and telescopic forks were flinging around the table.

I had placed Louis at the end of the table with the one other person who could mutter any French at all.  I grouped the Arabic speakers with some others and thankfully Josie knew English because I was fresh out of translators.

We passed around the dishes until absolutely no more food could be consumed.  Everyone did the stretch back from the table thing and complimented the meal.  I took this as my cue (and as a good southern cook) to offer more.  They all groaned and I knew my work here was finished.

Everyone began clearing the table and we began to prepare for dessert which would come later.  Our Egyptian friends had to leave because of their daughter's private lessons, but thanked us for inviting them to our "special day."  They reiterated that they enjoyed themselves and really liked the stuffing and sweet potato dishes.

Louis lived nearby so he invited all of the men to come to his apartment to view his car collection.  The women-folk stayed behind and cleaned our place so fast you couldn't even tell that we had had a large number of people here.  Louis' car collection consists of miniature race cars that he builds himself.  In his earlier years he had been a rally car driver and was quite successful by the number of trophies John said he had in his flat.  John then showed him pictures of his father with classic cars and soon the culture/language barrier was broken.  They had found common ground.

After the men returned we began to prepare for the showing, "White Christmas."  This is a tradition that has been in my family for years.  We all watch it together as the women swoon and clap while the men roll their eyes and mock.  (That's part of the tradition, too.)  To my shock, we were the only ones in the room who had seen "White Christmas," but the rest had heard of it and were anxious to see it.  I was happy to oblige.  

"Sisters...Sisters...There were never such devoted sisters..."

Our friend had a handy little gadget that attached to John's phone which would then project the movie onto our wall to create a "theater-like" ambiance.  Way cool.  We first did a pre-show and introduced "A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving."  The kids really liked it especially since they were given cupcakes to enjoy during the viewing.

I realized only too late I don't own a pie pan.

Someone had made coffee, I had dished desserts and now the viewing of "White Christmas" was ready to start.  However, the children had had their fill of good times and Josie was feeling a bit under the weather.  They regretfully said their goodbyes and the rest of us settled in for the show.

We laughed, sang and clapped and only one man fell asleep!  (This is a remarkable statistic!)  As Bing and Danny sang the final chorus of "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas," I couldn't help but smile as I thought about this wild, amazing life we live.  It almost sounds like the start of a joke…a German, a French guy and an Egyptian walk into a Thankgiving dinner…

It's difficult to be separated from our daughters and family especially at holidays, but I am thankful that no matter where we are at in the world that we find "family" wherever there are those that love Jesus and follow Him.  The fruit of that love is community and care.  There's really no better definition of Thanksgiving than that.  

So to all our family in the US and around the world we want to say a sincere Happy Thanksgiving and tell you how grateful we are that our lives are connected.  We are better people because we've had the privilege of sharing life with you.  And if you love "White Christmas" you may have just endeared yourself a little bit more…

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner? I Think...

We're a little late in celebrating Thanksgiving this year.  Our community of friends couldn't get our schedules to jive until Saturday rather than Thursday which is just fine.  I've had a few days of sheer bliss to putter around the house and pull out every decoration that John ever commented about for the occasion.

When deciding the invitation list, a conundrum came up. We are the only Americans within our current circle of friends.  That means that everyone else coming doesn't really have any background for pilgrims, turkeys, candy corn…no matter.  We SHALL be thankful and we SHALL be in a group.  

The first on our list were our Canadian friends (who also have a national Thanksgiving holiday, but it's in October), followed by a German lady and a French man.  They all agreed to come.  

Our Egyptian friends are a little tougher to nail down.  The conversation goes something like this:

"We would like to invite you to celebrate Eid Shokr (Holiday of Thanks) with us.  It is on Saturday at 1:30 pm.  We will eat together at 2:30 pm.  Can you come?"

"Inshallah (If God wills it), I will ask my husband."

"That's great.  Just let me know."

(Three days pass…)

My Canadian friend calls, "Are our Egyptian friends coming?"

"Not sure," I say, "Why don't you give it a try?"  She does.

"Well?" I ask.

"She says that their daughter has a class at 4:30, but that they would like to come, inshallah."

"Is that an inshallah 'we're coming' or an inshallah 'not gonna happen'?" I try to clarify.

"Not sure.  We will have to just wait until Saturday."

We have another Egyptian friend whom we asked to attend also.  He says that he is too shy to come.  He doesn't like crowds.  We try a variety of ways to convince him, but to no avail.  He prefers small groups.  Okay.  At least I have a clear answer…or so I thought.

We saw him on Thursday and he said, "Saturday sounds very nice.  I will see you then."

Surprised I said, "Oh, you're coming?  That's great!  We will eat around 2:30 pm."

"No," he says, "I am shy.  I don't like crowds."  Then he says, "See you on Saturday."

So currently our table is set for everyone who could possibly show up complete with place cards.  We will see…

Until then, I'm spending the morning putting the finishing touches on everything and thanking the Lord for all of His help this year.  Our daughters are doing well, our village has welcomed us and I found a can of condensed milk to go with my can of pumpkin I've saved for a year.  (We shall eat pie!)  So much to be grateful for…

It's Good to Be "Home"

The lush land of Kenya

Well, it's been a while since my last entry and a lot has transpired so let me take a few moments to catch you up.

Discussing cultural adjustment...

At the beginning of this month, John and I were asked to join a conference in Kenya to do some teaching.  We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves among wonderful colleagues and the amazing thunderstorms that happened often.  In some ways, it almost felt like coming home.  We actually lived in Kenya for over 6 months this year. At the time, we were so wrapped up in what was happening with S*dan that we didn't really ever really think of ourselves as residents.  But 6 months (in this that I entitle frequently as "This New Life") would be considered a long-term stay.  So all that to say it was nice to be back, to breathe cool air and have some time to soak in the green.

Christmas decorations in Kenya were going up.
Notice that it says "Fun with Baby Jesus!"

We returned a couple days ago and were pleasantly surprised to find that the village people had been asking about us.  Our neighbor told us that she can't pass through without someone asking, "When are Mr. Zhan and Bam coming back?"  I smiled and was grateful for a community that so readily accepts us.  

Yesterday, we had groceries to get so we began our trek through the village to the main road.  A group of ladies (The Neighborhood Watch) greeted me warmly and asked about my trip.  I told them that I had been in Kenya.  "Kenya?!" they exclaimed.  

"Yes, it's very nice there," I said.

"But here is more beautiful, yes?"

I looked into their smiling faces and assured them, "Yes, it is definitely more beautiful here."

They accepted my answer and bid me goodbye.

Sadik picked us up and we visited with him as he drove us around the various locations it requires to check off everything on my list.  Only 3 places today.  That's good.

We've returned to our ongoing Arabic lessons (weekdays) and a big Thanksgiving celebration we're hosting on Saturday.  Currently, we will be the only Americans in attendance, but it should be fun.  I love anything that is "event-like" and this definitely fits the bill.

We got to spend time with our S friend
during our layover in Cairo.

I'm working on the dinner menu, crafts for the kids (turkey hand pictures, of course!), games and our traditional viewing of "White Christmas." (Bing appeals to any and ALL cultures in my opinion.) 

As I'm pouring over all the details, John mentions that a Korean cyclist who is biking across Africa will be staying with us for a few days sometime in December.  "Uh, did you mention this to me before?" I ask.  He pauses and says, "I think I did."  I assure him he did not.  I believe I would have remembered a cross-continent Korean cyclist needing refuge.  Oh, well.  The more the merrier.

We've taught our girls through the years that the way to keep from getting too weird or too cloistered is to keep your circle of friends wide.  We've encouraged them to be inclusive in everything they do.  Invite the uninvited, the stragglers, the curious, the new, the strange.  In fact, if we don't have an eclectic group of people for holidays/events in our home, they mention it.

Road leading home...

Now as I look at this entry, I realize that I'm now the very person I'm referring to… I am the uninvited, the straggler, the curious, the new, the strange…yet these beautiful people have included us into their homes and lives.

Our daughters, too, have received the benefit of thoughtful people who welcome them into their homes, holidays and lives.

So this Thanksgiving I have much in which to be grateful.  I'll talk more about that tomorrow, but for now I'll just say it's good to be "home" wherever for us that may be today.

_______________________________________________

Today's BOGO Blog:  Taxi Politics

A Visit to the Orthodox Coptic Church

Right by our village looms a large Orthodox Coptic Church.  This church is the second largest cathedral in Egypt.  Each day as we walk to town I notice the ornate entryway, the beautiful arches and the streams of people coming in and out.

I don't know much about their beliefs and wanted to take a tour sometime when the opportunity arose.  A friend of mine called one evening and said that a woman was available to show us around.  I'll let the pictures do the talking, but one point of interest I wanted to add.  During the upheaval in the summer between political parties, clashes between religious sects also broke out.  Churches across Egypt were being damaged and destroyed.  Our city also had rising tensions.

One evening, word spread that a group of angry protestors were making their way toward the cathedral.  The Coptics within the church began to prepare for an assault.  As they were doing so, a stream of people from our village began making their way toward the church.  The Nubian M*slims formed a circle along with the Coptics and held hands creating a human wall to the oncoming mob.  They held fast and the protestors gave up and walked away.

The pope of the Orthodox church recently made a stop here to thank the Nubian people for their heroic behavior.  Oh, you may be interested to know that the tour guide from the church didn't tell me this story, but rather a Nubian felucca (sailboat) captain who expressed his sentiments that he was proud to help these people and that no harm should ever come to them.

So I'll keep asking questions and finding out more about this small percentage of society here who call themselves "Copts," but until I report again…enjoy the photos!

Coptic art has many icons...The four Gospel writers are represented in each corner.

The front of the sanctuary

The Coptic cross represents the four Gospels.  Each arm has three points for the Trinity.

The pews are all inlaid wood.  No nails are used since Jesus was crucified with nails.

Different saints represented...can't remember them all.

Some of the disciples...

This curtain can only be entered by the Bishop or the Pope.

The oak, ash and walnut woods are imported from America due to their ability to withstand extreme heat.

Jesus' baptism.

The beautiful pulpit.

The special seat for the Bishop or Pope when he is present.

The Last Supper

Mary and Joseph's entry to Egypt.

The sanctuary seats 3000.  Men on left.  Women on right.

The doorway...

Tradition says if the church bells ring within your hearing distance and you don't attend church, you are sinning.

Today's BOGO Blog:  So Much CARE!

Soft Kitty

After a few days of some weird bacterial infection which made my voice hover between laryngitis and a honking harp seal, I am upright and propped by pillows.  I haven't been this sick for a while.  John took great care of me short of singing "Soft Kitty"** when requested.

John told our language helper and friend, Sahed*, that I wouldn't be joining the Arabic lesson due to illness.  After, Sahed went to his father's farm and plucked ripened oranges for me.  He presented a bag of them to John the next day with instructions for me to eat them all.

My friend, Sarah*, who's a nurse brought an antibiotic and the infamous Vicks Vaporub.  That immediately took me back to my childhood remembering my mother, the hot water vaporizer, Vicks and a towel over my head steaming it all in.

I was also prescribed guava leaf tea.  A local doctor said that it was actually a good home remedy for coughing. Sarah asked our landlady to point out any guava trees in our yard.  She did and soon I had steaming guava leaf tea brought to me in my sickbed.  Not much taste, but my tongue did go numb for a bit.

Sahed also recommended that I drink ginger and honey tea, wrap my neck in a warm scarf and stay out of the "cold" air.  I thanked him for all his help.

I received one more bit of medicinal advice which involved sauteeing onions and garlic then placing them about my neck in a poultice.  I hadn't sensed any vampires near, so I passed on that one.

After 3 days of sincere care, my voice is almost normal and the coughing minimal.  When you're sick, it can be an emotional time of feeling sad or lonely.  I have to say that being sick here reminds me of the many wonderful people that are in my life.  How kindly they have received us and how they go out of their way to make sure I feel cared for.

And if I ever feel too cared for, then I'll just start sporting the onion and garlic poultice.  That should do it.

______________________________________

Today's BOGO Blog:  One Step at a Time

*Not their real names
**From a popular sitcom in the US

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Abiya

Village life is just pretty amazing.  Yesterday after I had tea with Samia* I went home to rest for a bit before the next tea invitation.  "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Abiya" is the new name I've given to the women that I meet on a regular basis for tea.  I had told them that I would come in the evening.  Around 6:30, Sarah* and I walked out together to go to their house.  When we arrived, no one was there.  This is very unusual.  There are usually no less than 8 women (all dressed in black abiyas) and a small passel of children seated/running in a circle.

We turned around and went to another friend's house who told us what had happened.  One of the women had dislocated her arm and the others were tending to her (including relocating it).  My friend, Sarah, shook her head at the description, but what's done is done.

Our friend, Fatima*, invited us in for tea.  She motioned for us to come into the house so we did.  She then took out a key and unlocked a room that is strictly for entertaining.  There were two benches with cushions covered in gold cloth and a small table in-between.

Sarah and I sat down while Fatima scurried to the kitchen.  Two tiny kittens walked in and began trying to climb up the cushions, but they were still developing their muscles so they soon gave up and ran out.

Fatima returned with two cups of well-sugared tea.  I asked where her cup was.  She said, "I drink tea at 10 am and 3:30 pm.  That's it."  I always chuckle because this seems to happen a lot.  Ladies will invite me to tea and then watch me drink it.  I'm trying to get over the awkwardness of it.

I asked about Fatima's day while waiting for the tea to cool down. Sarah thanked Fatima for the dish of fuhl (cooked beans with spices) that was delivered to her door earlier.  Fatima then gave us the recipe and demonstrated how to make it.  She lost me on the 7th step.  Is there a Hamburger Helper version of this somewhere?  Some box of ingredients that can be thrown in a pot?  No such luck.

When Sarah confessed that she often buys fuhl in a jar at the store, Fatima gasped and said that she was never to do this again.  (I thought it prudent to keep my canned purchase confessions quiet.) From this point on, she would make extra and deliver it to them.

Fatima mentioned a mutual friend but I was still unclear of the relationship she had to the people in the village.  She told me of the sister's brother's daughter's daughter and then it got really confusing.  I had brought pictures of my own daughters, mother and sisters this time so she see them. She tried to use my photos to clarify what she was trying to say, but it didn't work.  I still have no idea who's related to whom or how.

I finally just nodded my head while looking at Sarah to see if she knew any better what was being said.  No go.  We gave up and switched topics until it was time for us to go.  The call to prayer sounded so we said our goodbyes and made our way back to our flats.

Fatima said goodbye to us in English waiting for us to catch what she did.  We smiled and told her that she said it just right.  She was beaming, but then turned serious as she said that she would be making fuhl and tah-maya (falafel) for us soon.  I guess that was her way of warning us to steer clear of any canned versions.  Message received.

I suspect that tomorrow when we're back with the "Sisterhood" we'll discuss" the dislocated arm incident" and "the tragic tale of the canned fuhl."  But it's okay.  My friends in the US have laughed at me more than a few times for some of my cooking attempts.  It's nice to just be women sitting together and being women.

Until the next chapter…Thanks for traveling with me!

*Not their real names

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