My Jordanian Family

I just spent a wonderful weekend visiting my Host Family in Mansheiya, a village near Mafraq city. It was very refreshing and exactly what I needed. My first 10 weeks in Jordan were spent living with this wonderful family. I try to visit as often as I can because they truly are my family here in Jordan. I now live alone in a village in the Irbid region and though I feel integrated and welcomed here, I don't feel a sense of family or closeness with anyone in my village like I did when I lived in Mansheiya.

My host family is made up of Ibrahiem, age 37 and Yasmeen, age 30 and their four sons; Belal, Derar, Mohammad and Obada. That is only mentioning the immediate family. In Jordan it is typical for the sons to live very close to their parents after they marry. Many sons will even build on top of their parent's homes to move upstairs with their new wife. That explains why Ibrahiem's many brothers live downstairs and on either side of him with their large families. One day Ibrahiem's sons will grow up, marry and probably build on top of their house or around it to stay near the family. The family dynamics here are like nothing I could have imagined before I was immersed into the biggest family I have ever known. Even Ibrahiem's sisters live close by with their husbands since everyone in the village is from the same tribe, carrying the same name and basically all related in some fashion.

All of the women in the family (Ibrahiem's sisters and the wives of his brothers) spend their time together chatting, drinking tea and cooking. What was once overwhelming for me to sit in a small room with 10-15 women is now very normal. And I can't forget all of these women's children who are constantly running in and out of the house. It is not unusual to count over 30 people in one room on any given day; all of the children playing and all of the women sitting on farshas, which are floor cushions that line the walls of the visiting rooms. I'm a pro at remembering names after having to learn the names of the entire Stayfat tribe in only a few days. Luckily the majority of the boys are either named Mohammad or Ahmad.

Every single person I have met in this absurdly large family has been so warm, welcoming and kind to me. Not a minute has passed that I have not felt like I'm a member of their family. They hassle me to come and visit them every single weekend as it is normal for a family member who lives and works away from the home to return every weekend.

On Friday I spent hours in the kitchen with Yasmeen learning how to make Mansaf, the national dish of Jordan and the most delicious thing I've ever had. Now I can check that off my Jordan bucket list. Mansaf is a rice dish with a salty yogurt sauce, sprinkled with toasted almonds and cilantro and served with chicken or lamb. Meals are eaten on the floor with the main dish on one large platter that everyone eats from. Drinks are always served after the meal, which I'm still not quite used to. I don't know how they don't feel thirsty while they're eating.

It is a great honor in Jordan to feed your guest so well that they gain weight so I shouldn't have been surprised that my host family weighed me when I first moved in with them and weighed me again before I left to make sure they did their job, which they did very well indeed! It is also normal to tell someone they look fat or skinny, no judgement or cruelty intended. I have heard many times that I am looking rather fat, usually accompanied with an approving look. This weekend my host family seemed very unhappy that I looked too skinny. I was forced to eat dinner twice. 

Over the weekend I also met all of Yasmeen's family. My host mother Yasmeen is from Syria and recently her entire family escaped from Syria and moved to Mansheiya with the help of Ibrahiem and his family. Her parents, her Uncles and Aunts, her cousins, her brother and 6 sister's along with their spouses and children all fled Syria to take refuge in Jordan. This large family left everything behind and they are now living in a cramped, bare house with few belongings. I could see the sadness in their eyes when they mentioned Syria but they only expressed their gratitude to God and the people in Mansheiya for delivering them to safety. I can't imagine the hardships they're experiencing but I am grateful they are with Yasmeen in Mansheiya and not trapped in the refugee camps like so many other Syrians or even worse, still trapped in Syria.

me, my blog, why peace corps?

Nearly a year ago I embarked on a grand adventure to the beautiful country of Jordan. A small country located north of Saudi Arabia, south of Syria and sandwiched between Israel and Iraq. With extremely limited knowledge about Jordan and its culture I decided to make a 2 year commitment to live and work there as a Peace Corps volunteer in about the same amount of time it takes me to pick out a brand of shampoo. Why did I decide to move to Jordan? I still have not found a definite answer to that question. Since I have moved here I have been challenged in more ways than I can even begin to describe to myself. I have also just begun to realize the profound changes this experience has ignited in me.

I intended to blog about my life in Jordan from the moment I arrived, but nearly a year later and I am now posting my very first blog entry. I think I refrained from this because until recently my life could be described as a whirlwind of inconsistent happiness, loneliness, excitement, and several other competing emotions that made me constantly ask myself, "what am I doing here?" The past 3 months of my service have been truly extraordinary and all the pieces seem to finally be falling into place. I am now more than ready and eager to share my stories and experiences with my loved ones and anyone else who dares to explore the unknown world and may learn something from my words.

I can easily say that the idea of joining the Peace Corps took root in me when I traveled to Thailand at the age of 19. A short volunteer project, which involved planting trees (lots and lots of them) and working with rescued elephants gave my life more meaning than I had ever experienced before. For the first time I actually believed that I could make a positive difference in the world, as small as it may be. Other changes also took root in me on that trip to Thailand; I went from nearly crying when I saw a tiny spider to shooing away a spider the size of my head (or killing one if it came to that), I went from fearing heights to being the first to sign up for bungy jumping in the middle of the Thai jungle. I learned so much about a culture I once knew nothing about and I wanted to know more about the world, I wanted to experience more; it became a craving that never went away. I began to challenge my own belief that a happy life was supposed to go: college, job, marriage, kids. Leaving Thailand and returning to my far too systematic and sometimes materialistic life was extremely hard for me. But I made the most important decision I could; I decided to stop fearing the world and be in it.

The title of my blog is inspired by the quote, "The World is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page" by Augustine of Hippo or St. Augustine. I read these words a long time ago and thought what a perfect analogy this is and how completely true. My entire life I had lived in a little bubble so utterly unaware of all that the world possesses until I began to travel. Just before I returned to Jordan from a visit back home in Oregon a very close friend of mine gave me a journal. Throughout this journal she wrote quotes about traveling and quotes that reminded her of me on the tops of the pages. I flipped to one page and found this very quote once again. The words resonated with me and I began to visualize this book. I mentally filled in the pages with my most cherished memories and most moving experiences from my travels and then I began to fill more pages with images of India and Egypt, of Hungary and Cambodia, of places I long to see. Joyously, I thought to myself, I intend to read as many pages of this World as I can.