Refugees

London- ready to go!

On Thanksgiving day, the BYU students and the senior missionary couples went to a Syrian refugee camp. There are three camps in Jordan: two camps with fifty thousand refugees each, where everyone lives in tents, and one camp with one thousand people, where each family lives in one room of a tall, cement building. This smaller camp, only a few minutes from the Syrian border, is where we were finally given government clearance to enter. The camp is rather unique in that all of the refugees are of Palestinian descent. What this means is they (or their parents) likely fled from the West Bank when Israeli forces occupied Palestine, and built a life, illegally, in Damascus. Once the fighting broke out in Syria, they were again forced to leave their homes, jobs, schools, and sometimes families (many of the people have had their brothers or fathers killed by the Assad regime during the fighting.) So now they are stuck in a refugee camp with literally nowhere to go--they can't go back to Syria because they are not citizens. They can't go back to Palestine because it does not exist. They can't stay in Jordan either because the local government doesn't want them to take the few available jobs away from the Jordanians. They have no citizenship, no real identity. So this is the situation that the refugees have lived in for an entire year, watched by armed guards and forbidden to leave. Of course, this is much better than returning to war-torn Syria, but I can't help but think there must be a more appropriate solution. 

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Falling asleep on the bus.

We pulled up to the camp early in the morning, before any of the people were actually awake! We waited for nearly an hour, and then one by one, they emerged from the building. Most of the families have only one parent: A mom and her two daughters and the baby she had in the camp. A father with his toddler and teenage boy. They slowly made their way into the UNICEF tent where a puppet show was waiting to cheer them up. 









The Mormon church has a script and accompanying puppet show for several scenarios that they perform as a service in developing countries. The shows include topics like hygiene, not smoking, preventing the spread of diseases, and other related topics. This time, the Arabic students performed a show about hygiene, complete with hot pink and florescent orange "germ" puppets. The kids laughed and laughed. Their eyes lit up the way kids' eyes are meant to. It was beautiful to watch.

After the show, we visited with the people. I spoke what little Arabic I know, mostly saying hello, asking the children what their names are, and telling the parents that God had blessed them with beautiful families. One of the BYU students spun the children in the air. As we boarded the bus back to Amman, leaving those people there, it was a somber scene. We were quiet most of the way home.

On a lighter note, our American friends, the McConnells, wanted a real Thanksgiving feast. There isn't anything I love more than spending an entire day cooking and baking, except for London, of course! 

Kiya and I shopped all morning Saturday, and spent the rest of the day and night in the kitchen. We were a little ambitious, to say the least. Everything was from scratch and everything was to die for. 

The most fabulous thing on the menu..... triple chocolate pumpkin pie. It will most definitely be a staple at EVERY Thanksgiving for the rest of my life. Kyle said that he felt like a legitimate adult after we made our own Thanksgiving feast... I'm not sure what he's talking about though, all he did was wash the dishes! :)The last pie came out of the oven just before midnight, and the thought of finding a taxi at that hour made me want to cry-- so we slept on their living room floor instead. I closed my eyes, feeling seriously accomplished, and wishing that my mother could've been there to watch me. 

London got to the pie first!

It's been a while since I gave an update on our sweet baby. Her vocabulary list now includes: wow, uh-oh, purple, yes, hi, bye, cat, doll, and rock. She loves doing the crazy shake with her favorite show, Team Umizoomi. Two days ago, she started putting every toy and object she can find down her shirt. During the day, everything falls right out---but at night, when she's wearing footie pajamas, all of her toys end up trapped in her legs. As I'm writing this, she is trying unsuccessfully to put my entire bottle of lotion down her shirt. In other big news, she is officially off her pacifier. We used the "cut off the end" method that moms online swear by, and she handed that sucker (you see what I did there?) right to mom. It was a miracle. 

The Good Life

...and then...

Thanksgiving came early in the Middle East. Last Thursday was the Islamic new year (according to their calendar it's only 1434!) so we decided to celebrate Turkey Day a week early. Also, on the real Thanksgiving, all the students will be volunteering at a Syrian refugee camp... Anyway--- the wives were in charge of preparing the feast for all fifty BYU students. We divided up the duties: mashed potatoes, stuffing, cobbler, pies, sweet potatoes, green beans, carrots. The ovens in our apartments are large enough to squeeze one 9 X 13 pan- and I was prepared to cook all forty sweet potatoes in that measly contraption. Luckily, we have some friends from church who happened to offer their huge, American-sized oven and enormous kitchen for all my baking needs! Kyle and I packed a suitcase with the ingredients, pots, baking dishes, as well as some laundry to do in their big, beautiful washer and dryer, and taxied over to the embassy housing. Kiya and I did our thing in the kitchen while our husbands played with London and talked about Arabic. What would've taken me all day took only two hours, AND Kyle and I went home with FLUFFY laundry! It was glorious!

Thanksgiving dinner was actually kind of perfect. We even had a turkey, which was completely unexpected and insanely delicious. London tasted jello for the first time, and it was by far her favorite part of the meal! Afterward, our friends invited us back over to their house to watch Lord of the Rings and eat pumpkin pie. Sitting on that plush couch, eating our pie with real ice cream, and watching a movie on a big screen TV,  Kyle and I felt like kings.

London "helping" me bake.

That night, the protests broke out in Jordan. We stayed in our apartment for the rest of the weekend because even church was cancelled! We entertained ourselves by baking zucchini bread and online shopping for Christmas presents. On Saturday, we planned a getaway to watch Breaking Dawn Part 2, but London broke in a molar and we couldn't leave our sweet girl. Maybe next weekend!

With her Gorilla Munch- happy as can be!

The girls I tutor know I'm leaving soon. I wish I could take them with me- away from the nuns and the rules that lock them in. Children don't belong in orphanages. They belong with families and with mothers who will kiss them goodnight. I love those girls.

New Perspectives

It's freezing here! And by freezing, I mean, it's in the 50's. One day it was 81, and the next, it was cold and rainy---like Portland, but without the redeeming pine trees. We celebrated the onset of winter with large, plastic tumblers of Mexican hot chocolate. The look on my sweet child's face for her first taste (more like chug) of frothy, cinnamony goodness told us that her whole universe had just been rocked--milk AND chocolate together!?!?!?!

Anyone who has lived in a foreign country for more than a month knows what it's like to miss American things. Kyle and I watched a youtube video of a guy "rating" a cheeseburger from Five Guys and nearly crawled/swam back to the homeland. The following day, we learned about a place called Feel Burger, whose customers promised the most Americanesque burgers in all of Jordan.

I'm happy to report that our cravings have been seriously satisfied.

The cold weather also awakened my creative side, and I am now knitting hat #2 for London. She likes to sit by me to try on the fraction of hat, and she always makes sure Dad is watching so he can comment on how cute it looks on her.

London likes to put out milk and wait for the kitten while she eats breakfast!

This week, while shopping at the supermarket, we were stopped by a family who wanted to play with London. This is a common occurrence, but this time, the father asked Kyle, "Please, would you come to our home? My wife will make you a meal! Please, would you follow us to our home?" Kyle looked at me, certain that I would graciously decline the invitation. But in the three minutes I had spoken to this man and his wife, I felt divine intervention, and I was prompted to accept. We followed the man, his wife, and their child in a stroller, to an apartment building a few blocks away. [It was midnight before we checked our watches and realized we needed to get to bed!] The night was full of laughter, stories, questions, and fabulous Iraqi food. The family was from Iraq, but had fled the destruction and unstable conditions in Baghdad and started a new life in Syria. When violence broke out in Syria, they escaped here, to Jordan. 

I am telling you- no amount of books you read or news stories you watch will ever compare to the account given by these absolutely wonderful people. Everywhere they have ever called home has been bombed and shelled to ruins. And yet, their perspective on the purpose of life and the love in their family inspire me to be a better human being. 


Their youngest child was a 4-year-old boy named Yusuf. He was the one sitting in a stroller, holding a soccer ball, when we first met. When we got to the street where the family lived, Yusuf jumped out of his stroller and starting running up and down the street, but with a severe limp. Kyle asked his father why he was limping, and he explained that Yusuf has a malformation in his hip that makes one leg longer than the other. They have been trying to get a visa for Yusuf to get surgery in the United States since he was born. All the red tape and security checks that they have to go through have taken up the last 4 years--seemingly with no end in sight. The parents told Kyle that Yusuf loves soccer, but will likely never be able to play soccer like a normal kid. At the end of the evening, they walked us home, and the dad begged Kyle to help in any way. He said, "I would give all the money I have for my son to get a visa." It is these kind of experiences that make me so grateful for all the things we have in America that we take for granted: clean water, medical care, safety. Our prayers were extra long that night, but Kyle and I can't help but feel so helpless. I hope with all my heart that they will someday be able to get their little boy the treatment that he needs.

For date night, we doubled with Carrie and Jeremy, and London was the fifth wheel. I was feeling under the weather, so we decided on a leisurely stroll through King Hussein's Auto Museum. 

It was actually cool! And I don't use that word...

I feel---different-after living in Jordan for three months. There are so many things I thought I knew or understood about Islam, Muslims, and the culture in general, before I came to live here. The kindness we experience every time we step outside of our apartment has forever changed me- for good.

Carving a Mountain

The trip of all trips began before sunrise on Saturday morning. We loaded on the bus, guided by a very nice Jordanian named, you guessed it, Muhammad. We made three stops that day: Kerak, Shubak, and Little Petra. Kerak is a ruined crusader castle with remnants of a kitchen and a church. London ignored the tour and collected as many rocks as her dainty hands could carry. Shubak, another ancient fortress, was slightly more memorable...




Muhammad told us about several hidden tunnels, famously chiseled through Shubak mountain, just in case the castle were to come under siege. Our program director asked us to gather at a certain time so that we could all use our flashlights to climb out a tunnel together. He had done this before, and apparently had forgotten how grueling the hike was. [Afterward, he apologized profusely] Imagine walking through a black tunnel, whose slippery steps were carved in sand a thousand years ago, twisting and winding for miles through a mountain, down, down, down---- then add a 15 month old baby on your back. By the time we reached the bottom and climbed up the escape ladder, my legs were shaking and my whole body was spent. 



At the final stop of the day, Little Petra, Kyle, London and I recuperated on the bus and actually fell asleep! We arrived at our hotel just a few blocks from the mouth of the Petra canyon just before 6 pm, ordered room service, and packed our things for the following day.

The whole countryside surrounding Petra looks surprisingly like southern Utah, with huge wind-eroded mountains of sandstone and slot canyons. The canyon leading to Petra winds down for several miles, where on both sides, there are water channels etched in the cave walls.

And then, around a corner and through a small opening, one giant rusty-colored pillar carved in the rock comes into view.  The magnitude of the treasury carving isn't visible until the slot canyon ends in a huge open space. 

I have never seen anything so unbelievable!

We recovered from our initial shock and headed out to see the rest of the city, but not before London stopped to play with a domesticated cat and her kittens.

On our way to the top.

Me, Kyle, and our friends Drew and Casey then hiked all the way up to the top of the highest mountain, the High Place of Sacrifice. 





When the afternoon set in, we made our way to the burial tombs of the kings. Every building is so intricate and perfect and----amazing! I was so happy to be there, with the donkeys and the camels and all of the middle-aged Europeans in their tube-tops and booty shorts, just soaking up the architecture and the warm desert air. 

There is only one way in, so the hike out is all uphill! 

London hoarding jewelry

We barely made it back to our beds, covered in a fine layer of powdered red sand and insane amounts of sweat. Kyle and I rewarded ourselves for surviving with the most fabulous ice cream I have eaten in my lifetime, and this is NOT the Hartwell exaggeration in me talking. It's called Movenpick, and I am positive it's the only ice cream they serve in heaven.

The following day, we took a ride in the back of Bedouin trucks out to a desert village for a feast of ethnic foods.

 For the final leg through the desert, Kyle and I rode--------------CAMELS! Riding a camel is like riding a gigantic horse who only trots. The best part is when they stand up and sit down, and let out this earth-shattering moan. London rode with me because I was worried the camel might scare her, and I'm the only one capable of calming her down. She basically went back and forth between laughing and crying until the rocking of the giant camel steps put her to sleep in my arms.

And finally, we enjoyed a relaxing day on the coast, in the port city of Aqaba. It was so strange because everyone on the beach, with the exception of little boys, was clothed from hair to toe. I opted not to let London play in the sand, which made her seriously upset, because there was so much trash. I mean, millions of cigarette butts. Instead, we took a glass-bottom boat to look at shipwrecks covered in coral. Our boat driver was infatuated with American music from the 90's, which made the venture all the more entertaining. Before we boarded the bus back home, we each had a final scoop of Movenpick blackberry ice cream.

At the rest stop halfway between Aqaba and Amman, a man asked Kyle for permission to marry London, in 17 years. He said, "Your daughter is so beautiful, she is worth waiting for!" He gave her candy and a key chain, adding to her collection of free things. On this trip alone, London was also gifted three beaded necklaces, two chocolate bars, and a pastry. She blows all her admirers kisses and flashes her baby teeth, before hiding in my shoulder.




Everything about the trip was wonderfully, once in a lifetime, exhausting. Kyle and I decided not to go on vacation again for at least a month.