First of all, thanks to friends and family for reading and commenting. It's such a treat to read your kind thoughts! Miss you all!
I'm appologizing in advance for this (and probably several future) post(s). It will probably be of no help to anyone but me. I do enough speaking about the effects of deployment on families and children, that I thought I would take some time to consolidate my thoughts while they are still fresh. So, this post is about what I've learned from deployment '06-'07.
This post has several subtitles:
You can never have too many friends (and family!),
Find out who your friends are,
Walking the tightrope
As independent as I am, I could never have survived the responsibility of raising three kids on my own without help. There are just too many things that go awry. There are meetings that I wouldn't have been able to attend without someone to watch the kids. Football, soccer, and baseball games and practices on opposite sides of post at the same time; sick kids, doctor's appointments, Nathan's broken arm (and the resulting 5 hour hospital stay). Beyond just the needed help with the kids, my friends and family were there to send me books, to relate to what I was experiencing, to offer support and prayers. What would I have done without you? Lately I've been thinking about my support systems as a giant, many-layered safety net, with each friend or family member making up a spoke or square in the pattern. The wider and stronger the net and its connections, the more stability and safety it provides for me and my family. The less likely I am to go mad from loneliness or even hurt my kids (there's a new study out talking about deployment and an increased risk for child abuse). Of course, I can talk about this NOW, at the end of the deployment. You'd think I would have learned the first time that it is so much easier to walk the deployment tightrope if you are confident of a strong safety net to catch you when you fall. Some lessons are hard to learn, or unlearn, if you like. I think I have persisted in my 2 year old wisdom - "I can do it myself!" to the point of stupidity. Even at the beginning of this past deployment, when I should have known better, I insisted in trying to load and unload my new dryer without enlisting the help of any strong male neighbors. It was not until I had the thing loaded in my SUV, sitting in my driveway that I knew I was in over my head. I ran up to my neighbor, Hank, desperate for someone to bail me out. Hank wasn't home, but his wife Becky was. She was the one to help me unload the dryer, move out the old one, and hook up the new one. Who'd have thought this very gentle, Southern lady (who always had hair and makeup done to perfection) was so handy with a wrench? It was the first of many revelations that showed me not only how I couldn't do everthing by myself, but that I was surrounded by people who were happy to help.
A common topic for discussion at church is service - giving service, receiving service. Not only is it nicer to give than to recieve, it is easier. It's easier to be the one to make dinner for a family who has just had a baby, than to admit that I am floundering and need some help. Fortunately, deployment provides many opportunities to learn to accept service. The learning curve is a little slow or prolonged (well it was for me due to my own stubbornness). At first I was guilty of the "ledgerbook" ideology. I tried to return babysitting for babysitting, meal for meal, a plate of cookies for a ride to take the car in for service. Soon I found I just couldn't keep up. It seemed that my need for help pretty quickly outpaced my ability to give back. (Now there's a good Relief Society lesson). I was humbled. Really, deployment is a lesson in humility. It becomes quickly apparent where your weaknesses lie. It becomes pretty apparent where you don't measure up. This is where deployment changes you, really marks you so that you are different at the end from the person you started as at the beginning. All those moments of weakness, the times you yell at the kids for no good reason, the times the house is a total disaster and you stay up late reading a novel, the times you aren't emotionally available when the people around you are huring or angry. Those low times for me will not completely be erased from my memory - they'll stick around, my personal deployment scars. But then there are the care packages that arrive in the mail, the neighbor who takes the kids for a whole afternoon, the telephone calls from family and friends. That's when you really come to understand the true meaning of Grace: Undeserved kindness and generosity, love. I found myself singing "you find out who your friends are" a lot. Somehow it's having to go through the low times that really allows you to really experience the love of family and friends. It's the best band-aid in the world. By the end of the deployment, I was able to take the frequent hits to my tightrope stability without so much panic. I knew that no matter what happened, my own safety net would be there to catch me, to wrap around me and comfort me. So when my two younger kids freak out because they don't want to go to TJ's piano lesson, and my neighbor is happy to watch them for me, it's one battle I don't have to fight. A bit of energy saved for the time I will really need it. My family and friends have asked how I did it, how I survived. It's pretty simple, you made me strong.
Friday, October 5, 2007
Friday, September 7, 2007
Reading Explosion
My 8 year-old (third grader) is a big reader - so much so that it is often a problem at school. Last year his teacher often had to physically remove books from his hands to get him to pay attention during class. This year appears to be much the same. I have talked to him until I'm blue in the face. Usually my first question to him after school was "did you get into trouble for reading today?" Seems funny, doesn't it? He told me yesterday that he just doesn't hear his teacher when he's reading. Now that is escapism at it's finest, I think. To be so involved in a book that the world outside melts away. If it didn't happen in the middle of a math assignment, I'd be a bit more excited about it. Anyway, his reading list is an interesting one. He and I have read some of the same books, but his taste often differs from mine significantly (why I am surprised by this I don't really know). We both read Harry Potter - all the books. He read the Black Stallion and liked it, as did I at about that age. Last week he came home from school and told me he was reading Moby Dick. Ok, I read that book in AP English as a senior in high school - only because it was mandatory reading. I sweated through it and finished it, but it certainly wasn't one of my favorites. He loved it. After school on the car trips home all that week he updated me on what he had read that day. I honestly don't remember much from my reading, but had a few inklings of familiarity when he talked about Quiqueg, Ahab, and Ishmael. He loved the book, finishing it in about a week. I guess it's easy to underestimate the pull of a good book, even a classic - for kids. Sure he reads plenty of modern children's lit, but it's nice to know that I may be able to steer him in other directions too. I'm hoping he'll notice a copy of Johnny Tremain that I've stacked on the bookcase next to his bed, and tackle that next. We'll see.
There is a reading counts program at his school, they get points for reading books on the reading counts list and taking short comprehension tests afterward. I sometimes ask why he doesn't take out more reading counts books from the library, and he rolls his eyes at me. For him, reading is it's own reward. Another recent favorite of his is Runny Babbit, a Billy Sook, by Shel Silverstein. This was a loaner from his cousins. I was tickled to hear him on the phone the other day, with the book laid out in his lap, talking with his cousin about their favorite passages. I guess it's never too early to discuss great literature.
My husband and I are pretty conservative with our parenting. (Well, some may call it conservative, some may call it old fashioned). We don't have a videogame system of any kind. The kids watch TV, but I am very particular about which shows they are allowed to watch. We watch a lot of PBS and Disney Channel and Scooby Doo. This past week the boys have been on the computer non stop, playing games on two new websites - Pokemon and Club Penguin. I'm not really sure how I feel about this. I had hoped to prevent Pokemonitis as long as possible, but it looks like he has finally succombed. Along with all the time spent on the computer, I've noticed an increase in tempertantrums and hyperactivity (again, why am I surprised). We are going to have to significantly limit their computer time, even on the weekends. They need outside time to run off energy, to play and be normal, healthy kids. I'm a firm believer of this "green time". I also pay the consequences if they don't run off their energy because it comes out in the most uncharming ways otherwise. Anyway, tying this back to reading - I am hopeful that a little Melville will help balance the Pokemon influence, just like I hope the piano lessons will balance any exposure to Rap or other questionable music. I know I can't protect him from all the cultural experiences that I find objectionable. But there is always a hope for balance.
There is a reading counts program at his school, they get points for reading books on the reading counts list and taking short comprehension tests afterward. I sometimes ask why he doesn't take out more reading counts books from the library, and he rolls his eyes at me. For him, reading is it's own reward. Another recent favorite of his is Runny Babbit, a Billy Sook, by Shel Silverstein. This was a loaner from his cousins. I was tickled to hear him on the phone the other day, with the book laid out in his lap, talking with his cousin about their favorite passages. I guess it's never too early to discuss great literature.
My husband and I are pretty conservative with our parenting. (Well, some may call it conservative, some may call it old fashioned). We don't have a videogame system of any kind. The kids watch TV, but I am very particular about which shows they are allowed to watch. We watch a lot of PBS and Disney Channel and Scooby Doo. This past week the boys have been on the computer non stop, playing games on two new websites - Pokemon and Club Penguin. I'm not really sure how I feel about this. I had hoped to prevent Pokemonitis as long as possible, but it looks like he has finally succombed. Along with all the time spent on the computer, I've noticed an increase in tempertantrums and hyperactivity (again, why am I surprised). We are going to have to significantly limit their computer time, even on the weekends. They need outside time to run off energy, to play and be normal, healthy kids. I'm a firm believer of this "green time". I also pay the consequences if they don't run off their energy because it comes out in the most uncharming ways otherwise. Anyway, tying this back to reading - I am hopeful that a little Melville will help balance the Pokemon influence, just like I hope the piano lessons will balance any exposure to Rap or other questionable music. I know I can't protect him from all the cultural experiences that I find objectionable. But there is always a hope for balance.
Catching up with my reading
Thought I'd spend a few minutes listing some of the books I've read most recently, as a continuation to the Bookworm post of a few months ago.
Books for Adults:
A Thousand Splendid Suns - Khaled Hosseini, author of Kite Runner. Kite Runner was a little too graphic for me. I liked Suns better. Still heartbreaking, but hopeful.
Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte. A classic!
The Eyre Affair - Jasper Fforde. Very imaginative, and it was helpful that I had recently read Jane Eyre. That helped me follow the plot a bit better.
Eat to Stay Young - Catherine Christie and Susan Mitchell - both Ph.D./R.D. ok read.
YA Books
The Hobbit - J.R.R. Tolkien - we listened to this on tape as we travelled this summer. Some scary parts, but still a classic.
Eclipse - Stephenie Meyer, the third in the Twilight trilogy, it's as great as the first two.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - J.K. Rowling. Book 7. We even went to the bookstore at midnight and stood in unearthly long lines to pick it up.
No Talking - Andrew Clements. Been looking at his books for my oldest son, but this was the first of his that I read. Great book!
The Thief Lord - Cornelia Funke. Loved this book! I started another book by this author - Inkheart.
Surviving the Applewhites (or something like that) a loaner from my sister that I already returned.
That may not be a complete list, but it does include the stand-outs. Have a good day!
Books for Adults:
A Thousand Splendid Suns - Khaled Hosseini, author of Kite Runner. Kite Runner was a little too graphic for me. I liked Suns better. Still heartbreaking, but hopeful.
Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte. A classic!
The Eyre Affair - Jasper Fforde. Very imaginative, and it was helpful that I had recently read Jane Eyre. That helped me follow the plot a bit better.
Eat to Stay Young - Catherine Christie and Susan Mitchell - both Ph.D./R.D. ok read.
YA Books
The Hobbit - J.R.R. Tolkien - we listened to this on tape as we travelled this summer. Some scary parts, but still a classic.
Eclipse - Stephenie Meyer, the third in the Twilight trilogy, it's as great as the first two.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - J.K. Rowling. Book 7. We even went to the bookstore at midnight and stood in unearthly long lines to pick it up.
No Talking - Andrew Clements. Been looking at his books for my oldest son, but this was the first of his that I read. Great book!
The Thief Lord - Cornelia Funke. Loved this book! I started another book by this author - Inkheart.
Surviving the Applewhites (or something like that) a loaner from my sister that I already returned.
That may not be a complete list, but it does include the stand-outs. Have a good day!
Monday, September 3, 2007
Top 10 ways you can tell you are lonely for your soldier
Here's my own top 10 list-
You know you are lonely for your soldier when:
1. You experience a strong gravitational pull toward anyone or anything in a uniform. - I remember when the younger kids and I were Christmas shopping at Toys R Us at the same time the Marines were there collecting toys for their Toys for Tots program. Several of them were in their dress uniforms. The kids and I couldn't shop, we just stood there watching them.
2. The kids want to jump on and wrestle with every adult male they meet. (Luckily, I'm a little more restrained).
3. You can't get to sleep because the house is too quiet after the kids are in bed.
4. You check e-mail several times a day.
5. You become so unused to attention that holding comversations with other adults makes you giddy and you sound like a total goof.
6. The kids' arguments make sense.
7. The phrase "Go talk to your father" is automatically paired with a gesture toward the computer.
8. You look forward to going off and on post for the conversation with the gate guards. (at least they are adults).
9. You check e-mail several times a day.
10. You start to wonder where your life has gone, if you'll ever get it back, and if anyone but you would notice.
You know you are lonely for your soldier when:
1. You experience a strong gravitational pull toward anyone or anything in a uniform. - I remember when the younger kids and I were Christmas shopping at Toys R Us at the same time the Marines were there collecting toys for their Toys for Tots program. Several of them were in their dress uniforms. The kids and I couldn't shop, we just stood there watching them.
2. The kids want to jump on and wrestle with every adult male they meet. (Luckily, I'm a little more restrained).
3. You can't get to sleep because the house is too quiet after the kids are in bed.
4. You check e-mail several times a day.
5. You become so unused to attention that holding comversations with other adults makes you giddy and you sound like a total goof.
6. The kids' arguments make sense.
7. The phrase "Go talk to your father" is automatically paired with a gesture toward the computer.
8. You look forward to going off and on post for the conversation with the gate guards. (at least they are adults).
9. You check e-mail several times a day.
10. You start to wonder where your life has gone, if you'll ever get it back, and if anyone but you would notice.
24 shining stones
I really don't feel much like writing. It's been one of those not so good days, when I wish I could have stayed in bed. It's not like anything really went wrong, I must have just rolled out of bed on the wrong side. Well, which is the good side when there are 3 children in bed with you? I didn't even have a "side" of the bed to sleep on, more like 6-8 inches. But every so often I have a day when I'm sure I am going to lose my mind - when I'm sure I can't take another day of this. I'm tired, I'm lonely, I need an adult to talk to. So, tonight I read from the book of Ether in the Book of Mormon. For those of you who aren't familiar with this story, the Book of Ether is about a separate group of people at the time of the Tower of Babel, when the Lord confounded the language of the people so they couldn't understand one another. It was a consequence of their wickedness (to think they could build a tower tall enough to reach heaven!). Anyway, Jared, his brother, and their families and friends are preserved by the hand of the Lord and are preparing to cross the ocean to get to a promised land. The Lord instructs them to make vessels that are tight enough to keep out water (but also air and light). The people are afraid to travel such a long way in the darkness, and come up with a solution. The brother of Jared cuts some clear stones and asks God to touch them to make them shine so the people have light on their trip, which He mercifully does. There's a whole part of the story that goes with this encounter, but I'm skipping it to keep this generally brief. Anyway, the voyage takes 344 days. Can you imagine being trapped inside a ship, on the ocean, without seeing the sun often (they had a small hole to let in air, which they had to keep plugged some of the time because of storms and tall waves). Could you imagine doing this in total darkness? Luckily, they don't have to make the trip in total darkness because of the light from the stones. Anyway, the people miraculously don't complain, and when the reach the land, they get out of the boats (probably kiss the land), and thank God for his tender mercies. 344 Days of rolling, stormy seas, and they were uncomplaining and grateful after so long? Tracy has been in Iraq 341 days. We have our own stormy days too, days like today. There is a very well known Conference talk given by Elder Bednar on this topic, the Tender Mercies of the Lord. It is all about the small and simple ways the Lord shows his love for us. For Jared, his brother, and their families, he was merciful enough to give them light for their journey. He didn't miraculously whisk them straight to the promised land to spare them pain or suffering, but he gave them the small miracle of the stones, a reminder of who was really in charge of their safety and lives. Similarly, for us these past months, he hasn't taken away the fatigue, or the loneliness, or the stress of this deployment, not totally anyway. But he has given us many little miracles to help us get through day to day. We have wonderful, loving neighbors and friends, hugely supportive family (who always seem to know when to call or send care packages). We have friends from church. This past Sunday I was reminded of all the support we get from our church friends. One of our home teachers (who was passing the sacrament at the time) returned my kids' waves and smiles. Emma went to sit on the bench between her favorite two babysitters, and TJ sat with our neighbors. I sat in the back with Nathan (and a few extra friends who wandered over) and was grateful for the sustaining love I feel from all the people around me. It's good to have a reminder, even on the bad days, that God is really in charge. That even though I can't see his plan for my life, He knows the plan he has for me and for our family. Now, with the end in sight (we're under 20 days now!) it's my turn to come through this deployment voyage with a grateful heart, thankful for the tender mercies of the Lord.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Home
Ok, I'm an adult. I watch Disney Channel movies. Is that so wrong? I get tired of 30 channels of Law and Order at night, or whatever the current adult themed drama is. I get tired of the reality shows and the game shows. TV for adults is either too adult, or too lame for me. So, I've been channel surfing with Disney. It's about my speed. I was actually planning to watch Disney tonight, the opening weekend of High School Musical II. Here's my reason. It was filmed in my hometown of St. George (in Southern Utah). My boys and I stayed up late watching all those disney kids prancing around my old turf - hanging out on the golf course, running through the sprinklers, watching the stars at night (no trees in the way), hiking (or in their case bouncing) on the red sandstone. Doing all the things I used to do as a kid when I lived there. It was such a tremendous feeling of deja vu. I found myself getting homesick right then for the place - well, not necessarily just for the place, for the whole experience- being there as a kid, with a whole life ahead of me. That was the place where I met and fell in love with my husband. He's in a lot of those memories too, and I really miss him. (Or obviously I would have some better things to be doing at night than watching the Disney channel).
And I've been thinking about my own kids. Right now my boys think of texas as home, because that's where they lived the longest. My daughter thinks of this place as home. She was only one when we moved from Texas. We're planning another move after the first of the year. My boys are already upset about it. My oldest, TJ had a horrible day yesterday. He was plain old mean to everyone - his friends were furious with him. When I asked him what in the world was up with him he cried and cried. It took him a while to catch his breath and tell me that his missed his friend (the one who moved back to Kuwait), and that he didn't want to move away from here. He wanted all our friends to stay here, permanently, too.
So, seeing this movie tonight, with all my memories - I guess that was the first time I really wondered how our military lifestyle and its frequent moves might feel to my kids. Maybe it will be more difficult for them than I thought it would be. I mean, we make friends and watch them leave with regularity. We'll do our own leaving soon - relocating to a new state for only a year, then on to somewhere else. Sure, they get to meet so many people, see so much of the country, but maybe it isn't all good. Kids like stability, predictability, and those words aren't in the Army dictionary. Will they be ok? Will this be bad for them, in a permanent, life-changing way? I sure hope not.
The good news is that the Army family is only so big. We'll run into people we know wherever we go. In fact, our next door neighbors may follow us to our new duty station just a few months behind us. That made all the difference to TJ - knowing his friends would be there too. So maybe he won't really have one "home", or place, where he grew up. But maybe his big (Army) family will be enough. I hope so.
And I've been thinking about my own kids. Right now my boys think of texas as home, because that's where they lived the longest. My daughter thinks of this place as home. She was only one when we moved from Texas. We're planning another move after the first of the year. My boys are already upset about it. My oldest, TJ had a horrible day yesterday. He was plain old mean to everyone - his friends were furious with him. When I asked him what in the world was up with him he cried and cried. It took him a while to catch his breath and tell me that his missed his friend (the one who moved back to Kuwait), and that he didn't want to move away from here. He wanted all our friends to stay here, permanently, too.
So, seeing this movie tonight, with all my memories - I guess that was the first time I really wondered how our military lifestyle and its frequent moves might feel to my kids. Maybe it will be more difficult for them than I thought it would be. I mean, we make friends and watch them leave with regularity. We'll do our own leaving soon - relocating to a new state for only a year, then on to somewhere else. Sure, they get to meet so many people, see so much of the country, but maybe it isn't all good. Kids like stability, predictability, and those words aren't in the Army dictionary. Will they be ok? Will this be bad for them, in a permanent, life-changing way? I sure hope not.
The good news is that the Army family is only so big. We'll run into people we know wherever we go. In fact, our next door neighbors may follow us to our new duty station just a few months behind us. That made all the difference to TJ - knowing his friends would be there too. So maybe he won't really have one "home", or place, where he grew up. But maybe his big (Army) family will be enough. I hope so.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
International life in a rural setting
Tomorrow morning our Kuwaiti friends are leaving here to return home. It's an interesting thing, striking up a friendship with people when there is very little common language involved - but somehow it has worked. Maybe some aspects of friendship don't need much shared language. It was my brother's idea to write about it.
So, it all started with a game of Uno. That part you know. It's ironic to me that during the same time that my husband is in Iraq, immersed in this culture, we get neighbors from Kuwait. How strange is that? These past two months have felt like some wierd split parallel universe - an American in the Middle East, and the Middle East comes to America. However it happened, It's provided Tracy and I with more common knowledge to use in our discussions about Middle Eastern politics and culture. He shares some Arabic phrases for me to use with our neighbors, I tell him what it's like to attend a segregated dinner party. It's also turned simple neighborhood birthday parties into something resembling a UN Summit meeting. There are at least 3 different languages and often as many as 5 nationalities present (Poland, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, India, and us). I'm becoming skilled at pantomime and pidgeon English. It's stressful, at times. I don't want to risk offending my new friends by not accepting their food or drink, but I don't drink coffee or caffeinated tea (I'm Mormon) but how do you explain this to an Arabic woman in full burqua who brings her china tea set to the party to share her gingered coffee with us? Who doesn't speak English? I didn't even try. I just took the miniature tea cup and thanked her. It is very strange to see the Arabic women here - completely robed, having picnics at the park. It's not what you would think of when you think US Army.....
So, about a week ago, our Kuwaiti neighbors invited me and the kids over for dinner. This was the third time at least they've fed us - wonderful baked chicken and rice with raisins, stuffed grape leaves, tabouli. When my mom and stepdad flew out to visit, they insisted on making dinner for us all - but the flight was late, and they ended up just sending the food over late at night for us to eat in the morning. The first dinner party I attended should have prepared me a little for the most recent. While there were mainly Americans there - soldiers and wives, there were also many Middle Eastern men there. After dinner, the men made a circle with their chairs and brought out these tower pipes (my husband knows what these are called, I don't). My oldest son cheerfully went about trying to convince each of the men of the hazzards of smoking until I could drag him away to play with his friends. The women sat on the outskirts, kind of misplaced and forgotten. It felt very strange. So at this most recent party, my children and I were the only Americans who attended. After getting some strange looks when I sat down outside in the chairs set up there, I was ushered in by the older girls to one of the bedrooms in the house, where some appetizers and coffee were placed on a rug in the middle of the floor. The women came in, closed the door, took off their veils, said their prayers individually on a small rug. My children wandered in and out, even the boys (which I was told was OK since they were only children.) How weird that it should matter. It was difficult for me, because it was a school night, and the time was getting on - by the time we were served our own food it was past nine o'clock. I tried to wander in and out myself to keep better track of the kids, but one of the girls always came to fetch me - "Come, Miss Lisa, Come." I really wasn't quite sure how the kids were going to be taken care of or watched (and was thankful for very good neighbors who I'm sure were close by). We ate the same food as the men, just from completely separate dishes, and after the men were done eating - all closed in by ourselves in our segregated room. The Arabic women were clearly comfortable with this. They chatted with me and with each other. My Kuwaiti friend told them all I was "sister, sister". It's similar to "Army family" - how we think of our close friends and neighbors here. I didn't stay long because I really had to get my kids in bed. After they settled down for the night I had plenty to think about. The experience was pretty far outside my comfort zone because what it means to be a woman in this culture is so practically different. As shy as I can be, I didn't like feeling so invisible. I understand modesty, I really do, but I don't understand the burqua. And I have serious concerns that when you are invisible as a woman, you are at risk for being mistreated. If you want some fictional but probably pretty true to life pictures of this risk, read "A Thousand Splendid Suns" by Khaled Hosseini. It's a story about two women in Afghanistan during the many years of recent conflict. On reason I have loved my Kuwaiti friends is that I can tell they love each other. The father treats the mother and children well, they are happy. The children are well-mannered and kind. They are good to my kids when mine don't deserve it. But I worry about their two beautiful daughters. Will their husbands be as kind and good? What will their life be like? Maybe I am concerned for nothing - this is what they know, how they understand life to work. Maybe living differently would make them uncomfortable. I don't know.
So, how did I wind up with Arabic friends, who are so different from me? I may not understand their definition of modesty, but I do understand the desire to be a faithful wife and loving mother. I know what it is like to leave your friends and move somewhere where you are a stranger (even though I've only done this in America). I understand wanting to broaden the horizons of my children by exposing them to new people and places. And part of me knows that our country and culture is not always well received by our Middle Eastern friends. Why not try a little harder to dispell any American myths they may have. Maybe this is a baby step toward peace. I'm happy with baby steps. I'm also eternally grateful that my daughter will grow up an American.
So, it all started with a game of Uno. That part you know. It's ironic to me that during the same time that my husband is in Iraq, immersed in this culture, we get neighbors from Kuwait. How strange is that? These past two months have felt like some wierd split parallel universe - an American in the Middle East, and the Middle East comes to America. However it happened, It's provided Tracy and I with more common knowledge to use in our discussions about Middle Eastern politics and culture. He shares some Arabic phrases for me to use with our neighbors, I tell him what it's like to attend a segregated dinner party. It's also turned simple neighborhood birthday parties into something resembling a UN Summit meeting. There are at least 3 different languages and often as many as 5 nationalities present (Poland, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, India, and us). I'm becoming skilled at pantomime and pidgeon English. It's stressful, at times. I don't want to risk offending my new friends by not accepting their food or drink, but I don't drink coffee or caffeinated tea (I'm Mormon) but how do you explain this to an Arabic woman in full burqua who brings her china tea set to the party to share her gingered coffee with us? Who doesn't speak English? I didn't even try. I just took the miniature tea cup and thanked her. It is very strange to see the Arabic women here - completely robed, having picnics at the park. It's not what you would think of when you think US Army.....
So, about a week ago, our Kuwaiti neighbors invited me and the kids over for dinner. This was the third time at least they've fed us - wonderful baked chicken and rice with raisins, stuffed grape leaves, tabouli. When my mom and stepdad flew out to visit, they insisted on making dinner for us all - but the flight was late, and they ended up just sending the food over late at night for us to eat in the morning. The first dinner party I attended should have prepared me a little for the most recent. While there were mainly Americans there - soldiers and wives, there were also many Middle Eastern men there. After dinner, the men made a circle with their chairs and brought out these tower pipes (my husband knows what these are called, I don't). My oldest son cheerfully went about trying to convince each of the men of the hazzards of smoking until I could drag him away to play with his friends. The women sat on the outskirts, kind of misplaced and forgotten. It felt very strange. So at this most recent party, my children and I were the only Americans who attended. After getting some strange looks when I sat down outside in the chairs set up there, I was ushered in by the older girls to one of the bedrooms in the house, where some appetizers and coffee were placed on a rug in the middle of the floor. The women came in, closed the door, took off their veils, said their prayers individually on a small rug. My children wandered in and out, even the boys (which I was told was OK since they were only children.) How weird that it should matter. It was difficult for me, because it was a school night, and the time was getting on - by the time we were served our own food it was past nine o'clock. I tried to wander in and out myself to keep better track of the kids, but one of the girls always came to fetch me - "Come, Miss Lisa, Come." I really wasn't quite sure how the kids were going to be taken care of or watched (and was thankful for very good neighbors who I'm sure were close by). We ate the same food as the men, just from completely separate dishes, and after the men were done eating - all closed in by ourselves in our segregated room. The Arabic women were clearly comfortable with this. They chatted with me and with each other. My Kuwaiti friend told them all I was "sister, sister". It's similar to "Army family" - how we think of our close friends and neighbors here. I didn't stay long because I really had to get my kids in bed. After they settled down for the night I had plenty to think about. The experience was pretty far outside my comfort zone because what it means to be a woman in this culture is so practically different. As shy as I can be, I didn't like feeling so invisible. I understand modesty, I really do, but I don't understand the burqua. And I have serious concerns that when you are invisible as a woman, you are at risk for being mistreated. If you want some fictional but probably pretty true to life pictures of this risk, read "A Thousand Splendid Suns" by Khaled Hosseini. It's a story about two women in Afghanistan during the many years of recent conflict. On reason I have loved my Kuwaiti friends is that I can tell they love each other. The father treats the mother and children well, they are happy. The children are well-mannered and kind. They are good to my kids when mine don't deserve it. But I worry about their two beautiful daughters. Will their husbands be as kind and good? What will their life be like? Maybe I am concerned for nothing - this is what they know, how they understand life to work. Maybe living differently would make them uncomfortable. I don't know.
So, how did I wind up with Arabic friends, who are so different from me? I may not understand their definition of modesty, but I do understand the desire to be a faithful wife and loving mother. I know what it is like to leave your friends and move somewhere where you are a stranger (even though I've only done this in America). I understand wanting to broaden the horizons of my children by exposing them to new people and places. And part of me knows that our country and culture is not always well received by our Middle Eastern friends. Why not try a little harder to dispell any American myths they may have. Maybe this is a baby step toward peace. I'm happy with baby steps. I'm also eternally grateful that my daughter will grow up an American.
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