Village Visit

It was my first village home visit.  One of my English students invited me (Heidi) and my teammate to her village about 20 miles outside our city. People there live simply; small homes with large families. Simply? This one had only a wadi potty in it (that’s a hole in the ground) for the 11 people who lived there. The whole family will likely be there.  Visitors are a welcomed treat especially foreigners. We are welcomed by the mother and eight of her nine children ages 16 through 29.  The father is at work.  We are escorted into the large front visiting room filled with enough couches for all of us, a common room in all homes.  I presented the gifts of nuts and chocolates that I had purchased as a customary gesture of receiving hospitality.

First I am served tea, then a huge amount of traditional food called Maklubeh or Upside-Down (rice/potatoes, chicken & veggies all cooked in one pot topped with yogurt), side salads, bean soup.  I've learned the secret to not overeating.  Eat slowly and if you are full don’t finish everything on your plate.  There is only one serving spoon and it is used by the hostess to continue filling your plate as you finish your food.  If you empty your plate it is a sign that you are still hungry and a signal to refill your plate.  After the main course, bowls of varieties of fruit and an assortment of nuts. 

Maklubeh - traditional food

Conversation is not too difficult as my student and some of her siblings understand enough English to translate to the rest.  They have many questions about the west and wonder about the Hollywood version of life they believe represents all of us.  I explain that Hollywood is not representative of all North Americans, that many people have values and morals, people are free to choose their lifestyles and that in the same way as I would not stereotype all of them in one camp, so they should not assume that all North Americans are the same. We talk about our beliefs and share what is the same and what is different.  Talk about religion is normal here.  They wonder what I like and don’t like in the Middle East.  I say I like their hospitality, but I miss Walmart. Talk often moves to politics, but we are careful, because we all know how complex the issues are in this land.  I share the story of my own parents and grandparents who experienced loss and difficulties during and after the war and how they forgave and chose to start a new life. They are surprised and curious and know that somehow I do connect with their story.

We ask questions, laugh, share stories, and exchange genuine desire to understand each other on a deeper level. I ask if I can take pictures of them, but they politely decline. Women especially, for the most part avoid picture taking. After five hours of visiting, Turkish coffee is served as an indication that we are now free to leave whenever we want.  Hugs and cheek to cheek kisses, Middle-eastern style, and we have become friends and built a bridge. West meets East at its best.