I live in a country of contrasts.  Jordan has some incredible wealth, but it also has some sobering poverty.  I realize, of course, that this is a sign of a third world country–wealth, poverty, but very little middle class.  However, I don’t really think of Jordan as third world–it seems to be more of an emerging nation.  I’ve been to some true third world countries, and Jordan doesn’t compare.

Nevertheless, Jordan has faced some serious setbacks recently.  In the past two years, almost 600,000 Syrian refugees have flooded across Jordan’s border to the north.  In a country with a population of only 8 million, 600,000 is a pretty substantial number.  Approximately 150,000 of those refugees live at Azraq camp in northern Jordan, making it the third largest city in the country.  The other 450,000 Syrians have spread out across the country.  These refugees have imposed an immense burden on Jordan.  But King Abdullah has compassionately refused to close his borders to these desperately needy people.

The Syrian refugees are now numbered among the poor of Jordan, which include Iraqi refugees, gypsies, Bedouin, Palestinians as well as poor Jordanians.  The contrast between the poor and the wealthy that I have observed in the past year of living here has been, at times, quite startling.

One example: last week I was driving in my neighborhood, when a Rolls Royce passed me on the left.  At that very same moment, along the side of the road to my right, a young girl, maybe eight years old, walked by wearing rags and carrying a dirty bag of items she had collected from the neighborhood dumpsters.  The contrast between what passed me on the left and what passed me on the right, at the same moment, was shocking.  It’s an image I won’t soon forget.

Then yesterday, Jason and I went for a walk in our neighborhood.  In a gully just three blocks from our apartment, we came across this camp, which we didn’t know existed previously:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve seen a number of camps like this one across Jordan, but I didn’t know one existed right in my neighborhood.  I’m not sure if these are Syrian refugees, Bedouin or gypsies. I suspect they are Syrians because many of the tents bear the UN logo common on tents donated to refugees by the United Nations High Commission for Refugees.

In contrast, just across the street from where I stood as I took the previous pictures was this row of new, luxury apartment buildings:

 

I think that the past year in Jordan has changed me.  To know poverty and wealth exist is one thing.  However, to live amongst it on a daily basis is quite another thing.  I hope that I am now more compassionate and understanding.  I’m unquestionably more grateful for my life and my blessings.  And I will forever be grateful for these experiences my family is having.

One great thing about living abroad is picking up languages; or as quite often is the case, bits and pieces of languages.  Occasionally, these bits and pieces make their way into our everyday English conversations and become part of our family’s everyday lingo.  Here are three of the SixAbroad family’s favorite words:

Capace: (pronounced cu-paw-chay)  Italian for “capable”.  Jason and I both lived in Italy, independent of each other, in our early 20’s as Mormon missionaries.  Our kids have heard the word capace since they were babies.  We have tried to limit their understanding of Italian however, because we like having a secret language that we can speak in front of them, knowing that they can’t understand us.  This trick also works well when buying cars or if we are ever kidnapped together and need a secret language we can speak in front of our kidnappers.  Luckily, we haven’t had to use our secret language in the latter circumstance.  But we have it … just in case … because you never know … unless they are Italian kidnappers … probably associated with the mafia.  I digress.  Here is a typical SixAbroad Family usage of the word capace: 

SixAbroad mom :  These dishes better be washed before Dad and I get back from the movies.

SixAbroad kid: But mom!  I can’t wash these dishes because I’m not capace.

SixAbroad mom:  Oh really?  And what makes you think you’re not capace.

SixAbroad kid: I have a hangnail.

SixAbroad mom:  Oh you’re capace.  But good try.  ‘A’ for effort, ‘F’ for results.

Next word, which is really two words:

Bu hao: (pronounced boo how) Chinese for “not good” 不好.  Taiwan was our first Foreign Service post.  And in case you didn’t know, the Taiwanese speak Mandarin Chinese and not Thai.  We get asked that one a lot.  Here is a typical SixAbroad Family usage of the words bu hao:

SixAbroad kid:  Dad’s Chinese is bu hao,  but Mom’s Chinese is even more bu hao.

SixAbroad mom:  Oh really,  well … tonight your dinner is going to be bu hao!

Last word.

Haram: (pronounced haw rawm; accent on the second syllable, very lightly roll the r) Arabic for “forbidden”  حرم.  Arabic is the national language of our current home of Jordan.  English speakers are familiar with this word, but we generally think of it as a tent full of veiled, yet scantily clad women.  Well those women, to anyone but the lord of the haram or harem, are forbidden.  Here is a typical SixAbroad family usage of the word haram.

SixAbroad kid: Look at all this chocolate I just found in Mom’s underwear drawer!

SixAbroad mom:  That chocolate is haram!!!!!

So in closing, if you ever find yourself around the SixAbroad Family and you aren’t capace of understanding all the words we throw around, with our bu hao accents, it is not haram to ask us to please speak like normal Americans.

Note:  The real purpose of this post is to show Cecily’s prom pictures to her grandmothers.  Grandma’s really get into this kind of stuff.

This weekend was the American Community School’s Prom.  Before the big event, the superintendent and his wife invited a bunch of students to come to their house and take some pictures.  Here are a few of Cecily and her friends.

The lovely ladies:

The dashing men:

Cecily and her date; the tall, dark and handsome Sung Won:

This is my favorite photo of the night, because it is the most Cecily-esque:

 

The following is a work of art created by an up-and-coming Jordanian mosaic artist:

OK, so maybe it wasn’t created by an actual artist, or an actual Jordanian.  I made it.  A while back the embassy sponsored a mosaic making class.  A mosaic artist came and taught us the old fashioned way of making mosaics by cutting our own tiles from natural stone, creating the image backward and using water and flour as paste.  It was fun and we were all enlightened as to how difficult the process really is.  In case your wondering, my mosaic depicts an ancient Arab housing complex; though it looks more like something out of a bad horror movie.  The best part of my mosaic is the palm tree.  I didn’t actually do that part.  In a moment of frustration I stood up, turned to the teacher, told him I was going to the restroom and that I expected the palm tree to be finished by the time I got back.  And the palm tree was magically waiting for me when I returned from the loo, which is why it looks so much better than the rest of the scene.

But this post isn’t just about me and my natural artistic talents.  So here is an item from the second mosaic artist featured in this post:

This mosaic, given to me by my sweet husband for Mother’s Day, was created by an artist who works for the famous Osama of Madaba.  Madaba, a town just south of Amman, is one of the great mosaic centers of the Middle East.  Tree of Life mosaics are very popular here.  The two most commonly reproduced being the Madaba Tree of Life:

And the Jerico Tree of Life:

My mosaic is a new design depicting Lehi’s dream of the Tree of Life from The Book of Mormon.  Apparently enough buyers want the Lehi Tree of Life that Osama has them displayed in his downtown shop.

But I have strayed from the original intent of this post.  This wasn’t meant to be a post on Tree of Life images from the Levant region.  It was meant to highlight two very talented artists: me and the nameless artist who created by Mother’s Day gift.  Both of whom are obviously extremely gifted.

My life overseas is much like my life was in America.  Most of the things I do on a daily basis are the same things I did when I lived in the U.S.  Take today, for example:  This morning I got my kids off to school and my husband off to work, I spent some time on my treadmill, I washed and folded a bunch of laundry, I washed dishes, I swept my kitchen floor, I wiped off my kitchen counters, I went to Ikea with my friend Mirza, I sent some emails and I told my kids to make their beds, eat their breakfast, brush their teeth, take out the garbage, put away their shoes, do their homework and feed the cat.  All normal things that any American mother would do on a typical Tuesday in April.

What makes my life different now from my life in America is what I see outside my window as I’m doing all those normal mom things.  Here are some things I saw outside my window today:

I saw a young Bedouin shepherd walk by with around thirty sheep.  I saw three different young boys ride by on their donkeys which were carrying bags of recyclables their owners had collected from our neighborhood garbage dumpsters.  I saw a young Syrian mother, her body covered with her abaya and her head covered with her hijab, walking with her young son; the two seemed to be looking for someone from whom they could beg a few coins.  I saw a group of curly-haired Arab boys playing soccer in the street, interrupted too often by the cars driving by.  I saw a group of bo-abs, the Egyptian men who maintain apartment buildings, sitting on the curb, chatting away.  While on our way to Ikea, through Mirza’s car windows I saw a number of small produce stands along the highway; each selling a beautiful and colorful array of fresh fruits and vegetables.

This is one of the reasons I love living overseas; because of the things I see outside my window.

Mormons are generally pretty funny people.  We can take a joke.  And we have thick skins.  We’re used to being the butt of people’s jokes.  People are constantly making fun of us.  We can take it.  In fact, we kind of like it.

We were in Jerusalem earlier this week for spring break.  As we pulled into a parking garage, the attendant looked at our freakishly large American minivan with Jordanian plates as if it had just dropped from outer space.  When Jason unrolled the window, the attendant asked him where we were from.  After Jason told him we were Americans, he asked what state.  When Jason said that we were from Utah, his reply was, “Is that your only wife?”

Funny!  And no offense taken.  In fact, Mormons have been laughing at that one for over 100 years.

Then last night, my 17 year-old found out she wasn’t invited to a party.  The party was at the home of a good friend of hers.  Alcohol was going to be served.  The host informed other kids that my daughter and one of her best friends weren’t invited.  Apparently my daughter is too Mormon and her Palestinian friend is too Muslim.  True to form, my daughter wasn’t offended.  She thought it was funny.

Funny!  And no offense taken.  It’s true, the devout Mormon and equally devout Muslim would be downers at your booze fest.

Back in Jerusalem, we spent Monday evening with our good Jewish friend Dvir.  He invited to his kibbutz for dinner.  Dvir is a tour guide and back in the fall we were his first Mormon clients.  Since then, I’ve taken my siblings on a tour and we sent some friends from our congregation in Amman to him.  He also told us that he recently gave a tour to a great Mormon family from Germany.  This week he told us that he now really likes to give tours to Mormons.

“You guys are funny!  You can laugh at yourselves!  I like that!”

Our men are gone.  One is at scout camp, one is in Dubai, one is in Germany.  So tonight is Girls Night In.  Just the girls, the cat, a big bowl of pasta con aglio ed olio, brownies and a some movies.  First movie was my choice:  “The Book Thief”.  Current movie is the 9 year-old’s choice: “The Wizard of Oz”.  Next movie will be the 17 year-old’s choice:  Some sappy Nicolas Sparks cry fest.