In a moment of prayer

It was a fun morning in the office, as we were joking around about old songs we used to listen to in high school. There were lots of smiles and laughs (which, let’s be honest, is not hard to make me do). As the conversation died down, I zoned into my work. It was going pretty well, and then one of the team members walked into the room. He said a few words and the mood immediately changed in the room. We turned off the music, closed our laptops and bowed our heads.

We received a text from my supervisor, who is on the medical mission in Basra right now. This mission was scheduled intentionally to handle the more complicated medical cases. From his text, we learned that one of the children was fighting for his life on the table. It was a baby boy. He's so young, I thought.

The text said, “Medicine has run its course and he is in need of miracle.”

Everyone felt for the family and this baby, and we took a moment to pray for a long time, lifting up the baby, the family and the medical professionals.  

I wasn’t expecting anything like this. We had recorded over 11 successful surgeries on this mission at this point, and I guess my fairy-tale-mind just felt more comfortable thinking about never having to encounter the worse case scenario. This is not healthy, as the worse is very much a real part of life.

In the moment, I was saddened, concerned, hopeful and yet trying to keep myself from all the questions of “why.”

These were my feelings alone, and I could not fully imagine the parents’ thoughts at the time.

I continued to listen to the prayer, and I was thankful for the wisdom behind it.

Of course we prayed for the family in the waiting area and the nursing staff in the ICU looking after the baby, but we also prayed for the medical staff in another way, that I don’t think I have ever had to think about before. We prayed that they did not overstep or in anyway rob this child of few more days with his parents. Powerful, I thought.

This  made me reflect more, and it challenged me in different ways as it relates to medicine and my area of studies, but it also just reinforces an aspect of truth: We rely so much on medicine sometimes, but it’s clear that the power remains in someone else’s hands.  

So scandalous these days. Pray for me.

I don’t know where to begin, really.

My alarm went off at 4 a.m. I’ve been waking up early to get some hw out of the way before I head to work. My plan was a success. I had a very productive morning, as I managed to eat breakfast and begin my workday just fine. Even when I got to work, I was able to find some key parts of my research. It was, overall, a productive morning. Despite feeling really tired and overwhelmed in some ways, I was happy that it looked like it was going to be a good day.

When 12 p.m. rolled around, my friend invited me out to lunch. There’s a great Kurdish restaurant down the street from the office, and we were craving one of our favorite meals. When he was ready to go, I saved my work, put on my shoes, and headed out the door to the restaurant. The restaurant has two sections: a family section and a man(?) section. I don’t really know how to describe the other side. I’ve only seen men sitting over there. It’s loud, and … just for men, I guess, so we sat on the family side and ordered our meal.

We get the same thing every time. I think it’s called “Sada.” For this meal, you’re served a bowl of rice with raisins sprinkled on it, and there are multiple other bowls filled with vegetable toppings in the middle of the table. It’s pretty good stuff, and we enjoyed it. During the meal, we were stared at, and, lately, our reaction to the stares has been to figure out which one of us is doing something wrong. We can normally figure it out, but this time, however, I couldn’t think of anything, which is a good thing because it normally means we’re being stared at because we’re foreigners. However, we later learned that we thought wrong.

After our meal, we asked for tea, and went to the front of the restaurant to pay. I handed my friend $10,000 dinar, so he could pay. We waited for a while for change, and I again felt the eyes on us. I rubbed my head and did motions that covered my face, so that people would stop staring at me, and then I nervously fixed my ponytail. As I adjusted my hair, I looked down, and figured out what the big deal was…

It was me (being culturally inappropriate, again). The left side of my dress was not zipped.

Great, I thought. Way to keep it classy, Yvette.

I tend to layer my clothes a lot around here, and I normally am extra careful with how I dress, but to forget to zipper? Really? It didn’t make sense, especially since I had such a productive morning. And out of everything I could have forgotten … this was it? Well, that’s not even fair.

“Inapprop,” at it’s finest (in this culture). 

Yes. I had spent half the day with my dress half-unzipped. I walked to work like this, and to the restaurant like this. Luckily, I was wearing a tank top and pants under it, and you really couldn’t see anything, but in this culture, that doesn’t really matter because what was seen was my dress unzipped. Awesome.

When we left, as most of you can imagine, I panicked a bit. I felt so embarrassed. But not too long after, I couldn’t help but laugh. What on earth? This was such a random thing to happen, and of all the places … in one of the most culturally conservative countries.

That’s.just.wonderful.

I felt so scandalous, and couldn’t help but laugh on the walk back to work, which is also not completely appropriate, especially if you're walking with someone of the opposite sex. It makes you look flirtatious.  

Oh, this was no longer my day. 

When I tried to stop laughing, I had a huge smile on my face, so I just covered my mouth with my hands on the way back to work. Yes, even my smiles could get me in trouble. This was a problem because I just could not turn off the smile. Being scandalous was totally not the look I was going for, and I definitely nailed it with my unzipped dress and my smiling face. 

When we returned to the office, we told a colleague the story. He shook his head and laughed with us. I still felt awful, as it was an honest mistake, but at this point, there was nothing I could do.

In my colleague’s words, “In the States, that’s nothing, but here … You just flashed half of this city.”

Fabulous. Pray for me <3

The Patient’s Arrival (Hospital Visit Pt. 2)

Around 10:30 a.m., a tiny baby, her grandmother and brother arrived with a volunteer nurse. This family was coming from the Syrian refugee camp right outside of town. They could have been delayed for many reasons, but I’m simply glad they arrived because the baby definitely needed care.

At six months of age, the baby weighed 8 lbs.  Unbelievable! She was so little (And she was so adorable!). Her grandma who held her, put her on the table, and moved the baby bottle of water to the side, so the doctor could begin to examine her.

While the doctor checked her with the echo, he began to express his concerns in Arabic. However, the Syrian family looked at him oddly because they didn't know what he was saying. Syrians speak a different Arabic than Iraqi Arabic, which is the reason communication was so difficult. To help communicate the status of the baby's health, he used hand motions, wrote down instructions, and then, he instructed the med student, his nurse and the nurse from the Syrian camp to go over it one more time to ensure that everyone was on the same page. 

They talked about when the doctor would plan to see them again, and discussed what was expected of them before they came back. The doctor  gave basic instructions on how to properly clean the bottle. He told them to boil the water, put it in the bottle and place the cap on it. Then, I couldn't really make out the other part of these instructions. He pointed to the bottle using his finger to show them how much water they should put in the bottle and how much of the prescribed nutritional ingredient he wanted them to include. This was interesting because his instructions required them to go to the pharmacy.

The pharmacy doesn't open until later in the afternoon here, and to get this medicine from the pharmacy would cost money. I'm not sure if the family or the doctor had to pay for the first round of medicine for this baby, but I do know that if they ran out, the Syrian family would most likely be responsible for getting the medicine and paying for it. This was so interesting to think about because, after all, they were from the Syrian camp, and you don't know their whole situation and whether or not they can afford this cost of care.

I had a lot of thoughts and questions, but I continued to observe everything. (Some ideas came to mind about the topics I would like to write about for my independent study course, and I made a note of them.)

Watching everyone in the room was interesting to see because there were two different languages being spoken, and a lot of confusion. The main concern the doctor was trying to share with the family was in regard to the baby's weight. She was too small for the operation in this city. He wanted to first "aggressively treat her nutritionally," and then see her in a few weeks (hoping that she would gain enough weight by then). His plan was to move forward appropriately with the operation after the right amount of weight gain. 

This tiny baby had VSD, a common heart defect in babies. She could have been treated for this immediately if she could go to another hospital in the area that has the equipment for such a young baby, but in this town, there is no equipment available for the operation. She is just too little for the local hospital's machines in this town. She is also without papers -- papers, like a passport -- that can help her get past the checkpoints in this country or even possibly leave the country for the operation. Thus, she is stuck, and her surgery will have to be delayed for about three weeks.

After the nurses and the med student figured everything out, the Syrian family left. We met the family to see if there was anything we could do for her, but due to reasons previously stated, like the lack of passport or accessible equipment, PLC is unable to help her.

Interested and want to learn more? 

More is to come on my academic blog. 

Check there for more details.

I went to the Hospital today! (Hospital Visit Pt. 1)

I had the opportunity to go to the hospital and learn a bit about how PLC receives patients and determines whether or not they can help the child. The original plan was to meet the prospective PLC patient at 8:30 a.m. during her appointment with a local cardiologist, but plans changed, as they arrived a couple of hours later.

As we waited for the child and the family, the cardiologist kept doing his rounds and checking back with us to see if the family arrived. I was glad he was making an effort to fit this appointment into his already-crammed schedule, but I could tell he was afraid they were not going to show. We kept looking out for them, spending quite a bit of time in the hospital hallway.

The hospital scene is a bit difficult to describe because there was so much going on, but I’ll do my best. I saw a few little kids running, several children walking around holding an IV in their hand, a baby screaming and being held down by a few nurses, a crowded patient room with about six moms and their children, people frequently walking through the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit (PICU), and so much more. I also noticed women wearing green coverings or white jackets. I learned that they were wearing such garments for identification purposes. The women wearing white jackets—jackets that you would normally see doctors wearing—are nurses. And the women wearing green gowns over their regular clothes are the moms of the children. Doctors are free to wear whatever they want, which made it hard to identify them sometimes.

There was a lot of movement in the hallway, so we stood out of the way, near the stairway in the corner. I spent the whole time observing and talking to a PLC worker who shared a bit of her hospital experience with me. I found it all fascinating, and wanted to learn as much as possible, but the cardiologist found us and invited us to his echo room, where we would continue to wait for the patient.

The echo room was also an interesting experience. In order to get to the echo room, you have to walk through the PICU. I didn’t have to wear or do anything special to enter the PICU or the echo room. In fact, for the last 30 minutes or so while I was waiting in the hallway, I had noticed others doing the same: just walking on through. Some people walking through the PICU continued their conversations at a loud volume, and others looked out of place. In my eyes, security seemed a little loose, but to those who are there everyday, they probably see security differently than I do.

When I entered the Echo room, I stood to the side to let people exit/enter. This could be a busy room for many reasons, but one reason is because every baby gets their heart screened now. Another reason that it seemed so busy is because of its size. This was a very small room, and there was not much space to move around. There was a customizable, dividing wall in the middle of the room to create a bit of patient privacy, but in such a small room, it’s hard for there to be any privacy. There were two families in there when we arrived, and at one point, I counted more than 11 people in this room (not including myself).

In addition to the people frequently walking in and out of the room, the room had a patient table, an echo machine, a rolling stool for the doctor, a desk for the doctor, two comfy couch chairs and a bigger loveseat on the other side of the room for people waiting, extra plastic chairs stacked up, a few piles of papers, a small desk for the nurse and a phone. The nurse handles all the calls, appointment setting and more in this room, while the doctors tend to patients, and she also assists the doctor with the patient be keeping them smiling, moving their hands out of the way or doing anything else that assists the doctors work.

There was a lot to think about after seeing this all in action, but it made me hopeful that the cardiac center being built across the street would soon be completed. This would allow for more space, and other opportunities of care for the patients and doctors. However, the project has been underway for the last three years. I really hope someone finishes it soon.

A morning of hiking

This weekend, I went hiking. It was so fun. I loved it, and I loved the company. These are just a few of the pictures for the morning trip.

This morning of hiking was probably one of my favorite things that I've done here so far. I spend a lot of time inside, and I do not go a lot of places. I don't even run outside or anything, so getting the chance to be active and in nature was awesome. 

 

I was surprised to see cows on our hike. We would struggle to get up some parts of the rocks, and when we got to the top, we'd often see cows just chilling and staring at us with this look of "what took you guys so long?" Well, that's just wonderful, I thought. How on earth did these cows get up here? We figured out that there was a probably an easier way, because this kept happening the higher we got. Cows ... just chilling. Too funny. Instead of getting frustrated with them, I went into photographer mode, and tried to get as close as I could. :-) 

Here's one photo I took before I chickened out:

Yep, just me and my friend Betsy (or Bob?) here.

 Yes,  and this was as close as I was getting for this picture. (Guys, the cow was huge. What can I say?).

 I ended up taking a lot of pictures of the scenery on this trip, and because of this, I was often falling behind. Here's to being that photographer -haha. Classic. Here are some of my favorite pics:

There are only a few green leaves on this mountain.

Just a glimpse of the view.

Everything seemed pretty dry on the mountain.

This is probably my favorite. I'm pretty sure I took a similar picture on a mountain in Korea.

This was the view from the top. It was a beautiful.

When we got to the top of the mountain, we sat down, and talked for a while. I loved just relaxing and looking out into the distance, but then I realized that we would have to leave soon. My one question was: how are we getting down? We had climbed some pretty steep areas, and I was a bit scared. We made it down okay, though, and I even kept stopping along the way to take more pictures (even on some of the steepest parts <--probably not the best decision (I know, mom), but I got some awesome photos!). 

On the way down the mountain, I came across something that really made me think about the history of this country and its people. Check out this picture below. Do you know what it is?

This is a bullet.

On the mountain, I found a bullet. I was hiking with three other girls, and there is nothing about us that appeared intimidating.

Hmmm …

So yea, I tried to forget that I saw this, but I had so many questions starting with "is this normal?" and "are we going to make it down this mountain?"

One of the girls said it could have been from people celebrating the recent elections in town. They often shoot their rifles up in the air during celebrations. Oh okay, I said calmly, hoping that no celebrations would be happening during the next 40 minutes or so. Then, she pointed to some other mountains in the distance. My friend said that there were caves over there where people used to hide out. 

Hide out? These mountains felt so bare with all the greenery appearing so dried up. I thought it would be easy for anyone to spot you. 

 

She continued and explained that there were not many places for people to go, and when Saddam was oppressing the people in this city through attacks, they fled to the mountains to hide in the caves. This made me really begin to think about some of the scary things this country has faced. 

This was not that long ago in history. People my age lived through this, and they remember some of these times very clearly. Someone on my team, who is around my age, put it this way:

“When we were playing outside and just learning to ride a bike, [Iraqi] kids our age were running for their lives with their families.”

Some of them can even clearly remember some of the hardships, which is really sad. This put more into perspective for me. There is so much history—history that is recent—in this region, and it directly effects the way people view one another today.

On Prejudice

Last night, I learned that one of the local Iraqi health professionals who works with the medical teams during Remedy Missions was recently killed in a terrorist attack. I learned that this Iraqi health professional was killed for his faith. I don't know what he believed, what the problem was with his belief or how this all happened.

All I know is that he was killed because of it.

Recent headlines of the killings in Iraq

Dr. King wrote about this from a racial prospective, but this
can definitely apply to religious tensions here.

This was upsetting to learn. It made me step back and think about some of the religious tensions in this country. Recently, there have been a growing number of killings in specific parts of Iraq. The problems here are intricate, but I can say that some of these killings do result from differences of thought. To have different ideas, and freely support or express them here is limited in many ways.

This is unfortunate because this is a country that is desperately in need of peace. From a healthcare lens, the lack of peace has greatly contributed to the low quality of care in parts of this nation. 

These are real people saving real lives. And to think that this man, who was dedicating a part of his career to saving lives, was killed is disturbing. 

I've been doing a lot of research lately, and I've learned that many health professionals fled the country during the war. Others were killed or kidnapped. Now, that the wars have ended, I'm hopeful that the numbers of health professionals will grow, but the truth is, despite numbers growing, health professionals, not only their patients, will have to face the current tensions in this area.

Some of the tensions include the following:

• Arab Iraqis vs. Kurdish Iraqis
• Syrians vs
• Shiite Muslims vs. Sunni Muslims 
• Syrian supporters vs. non-Syrian supporters
• And I'm sure there's so much more.  

I remember reading about this over the summer, but I put it in the back of my mind as I had to focus on some other areas for school and work. It's sad to go from reading about it, and then learning about it in this environment.  

Within a week of being here, there was bombing in Erbil, which was the the first bombing since the last six years in the north. Over 40 people died, and it was said to have been caused by Syrians.

Yes, prejudice plays a major role here, and its taking things to an unnecessary level: death. 

Despite your experience with this word, prejudice, it's important to realize that it could hold more weight for those who have closely felt the burdens of such thoughts. There's a lot to be said here, but honestly, after learning of this situation, I was left a bit speechless.

My supervisor posted the following on his Facebook page after learning about his friend,

"We don't ignore the violence taking place across Iraq. We choose to look it right in the eyes and tell of a better way. #preemptivelove"

Thus, after decades of enduring wars and sanctions, I'm very hopeful that this region will one day find peace. It will take time, and definitely a lot of effort, but I think that it's well worth it all. 

Rules n' such

Some of you have asked about the rules. Here's a brief list of things I have to constantly think about.

• Must be in before dark
• Always have your elbowscovered
• Wear long skirts or leggings that can cover your ankles
• Don’t smile or laugh a lot when you’re talking to a man, so they don’t see you as flirtatious
• Never walk alone to work or other places
• No staring at men in the eyes
• Never initiate conversations with men and engage them
• Don’t play with your hair in public
• Be careful with how you position your feet (showing the soles of your feet to someone is offensive)
• Don’t run or hurry
• Only run in the park where women can run for exercise
• Don’t play soccer with the cute kids 
• These kids are allowed to be outside after dark. Think about this: they're half my age and they have a later curfew. Never thought I would want to switch places with an eight-year-old before)
• Always take your shoes off before entering a house or office.
• Don’t forget to carry your Visa on you at all times
• Never ride in a taxi by yourself
• Don’t shake anyone’s hand (yea, definitely learned that one the first weekend I was here)

The whole goal in upholding the rules and dressing appropriately is to avoid culturally offending anyone. For women visiting this culture, you want to be seen as a respectable woman. That's what I'm trying to do, despite my mistakes here and there. Wish me luck.

Learning to Surrender

Dear Iraq, 

Will you please forgive me?

Respectfully,

Yvette Nicole

I'm sorry to disappoint, but there's something I have to tell you guys. Some days,

I'm just plain awful at being like a Kurdish woman. 

I make mistakes daily (sometimes hourly), and it's frustrating. From the layers of clothes in this heat to the greetings and no-eye-contact rule, I just simply can't get this right.

I really wish this would come more naturally, but I think the trick is to really practice it for a long while in order to excel. My actions, and lack there of at times, are important things to think about during this experience because I want to be seen as a respectable woman. 

The idea of reputation seems to play a major role here. What you do and how you do it could either negatively affect you, and not only you, but the people you represent (i.e. families). Thus, I'm trying to do my best to be respectful in every situation.

As I continue to make mistakes on this hopeful journey of getting it right, I've realized that maybe this is something that I should think more about no matter where I go.

Being mindful of your reputation can be good and bad. I'm one of those people who believes that everything is good in moderation. Thus, I think that maybe its best to take a step back at times and think about how we carry ourselves on an everyday basis. Do you think we should be more aware of how we present ourselves?

I laughed thinking about this because what immediately comes to mind are some of the shopping experiences I've had with my sister. My sister and I often joke about some of the things we find in stores. She'll hold up an item on a hanger, and we'll play the game.

"So do you think it's supposed to be a shirt or a dress?"

A lot of times I guess that it's a dress because I think that's just my default answer (and sadly, I've been right too many times).

Her answer is always, "well, where's the rest of it?!"

Haha - She makes me laugh, but there's some truth behind her humor. If someone has to ask where the rest of your clothing is, it's ... Well, let's just say it's probably having an affect on the way you present yourself, and probably not always in the most positive light.

Mistakes happen, though.  And there is a time and place for everything. So We live and we learn. Not everyone who wears something a specific way is trying to be seen in a negative light.

As I'm over here, trying to be seen in a positive light, I am doing my best to dress in culturally appropriate ways. So Iraq, let's talk about this staring business.

I look different. I get it. That's the reason I'm often stared at, but this is frustrating because I'm trying to blend in as much as possible by dressing appropriately, being smart about when to pull out a camera, and doing my best in other ways in order to not culturally offend anyone. That means, as I'm wearing my mounds of clothes and trying to breathe on hot days, and while I'm trying to watch my step and think twice before most of my actions, I'd appreciate just a break from the stares.

The worse is being stared at by men, who I cannot even make eye contact with. Sorry to vent, but this is honestly just a bit of my frustration, but it's also not enough to make me want to run away from this experience.

Honestly, I'm just too intrigued by it all, and I have so many questions. I look forward to enjoying the rest of my time, and while most of this feels unnatural, I'll do my best to surrender to "the rules" and hang on for the ride. Hopefully I'll have better luck this week.

Ps. Chances are ... I'll never get all of this right in such a short amount of time. Bear with me, Iraq.

Not your average cup of tea

This was the tea that was given to me at a Kurdish restaurant.

At the end of a Kurdish meal, you will be offered tea. It is served in a small glass, like the one above. This tea has a herbal taste, which is good, but it's not that uncommon for a lot of sugar to be added to it when you are given the cup. In fact, it has quite a bit of sugar at the bottom that just sits there. Most foreigners do not stir it in because it tastes really sweet (it reminds some people of syrup). When I had my first cup of Kurdish tea, I did not stir in the sugar, and I enjoyed it just fine.

I felt artsy one Saturday morning and liked the background,
so I randomly decided to take photos of my tea cup. Other than that, there's really
nothing special happening here. This is a regular tea cup I drink tea in.

Remembering to hold 'em near and dear

I've been asked one question a lot lately: what is it that I miss the most?

One of the first things that comes to mind, of course, is my freedom. The ability to go where I want when I want, wear what I want how I want, and to talk to whomever I want when I want. I am now beginning to see areas in my life I have taken for granted. To me, some of these freedoms were just a normal part of my life, but I now know that this really is not the case for every woman. This idea of loss of freedom really opens up so many more thoughts for me, but I'll have to share more thoughts on it later because there is something I miss more than that.

For my colleague, it's Fruity Pebbles and Steak.

For me, I'd have to say it's my family.

I think I'm often reminded of them because

1. I may or may not get a little home sick at times (shhh.. don't tell) 

and 

2. I see people hanging out with their families here all the time. 

This is some of my family (Jamaica 2011)

The culture here is like a web of family networks. The families are big, and people always share stories about their cousins and uncles (which may really be their uncle's uncle, cousin's second cousin, etc.). They spend most of their time with family.

This family-focused culture plays a major role in someone's life here. For both men and women, upholding your family's reputation is important. No one wants to bring shame on their family, but the more I learn about families in general here, my mind begins to spin with questions. One thought made me think about the reason family is a big part of this city in the first place. Since it's considered one of the most progressive areas here, I thought the younger generation would begin to branch out and try a more independent lifestyle. That is not the case, though, when it comes to family and relationships. The city is modern in other ways, but sticking closely to your family still remains 'the norm.'

One reason for a big family network here is the fact that it's not uncommon for people to marry their cousins.

When I learned this, I thought it was ... different. I didn't really know how to feel about that.

 I questioned the reason for inter-family marriages, and a local resident answered me in a way that made it seem obvious, "How would you know if you could trust someone if they were not in your family?"

To an extent, this totally makes sense. This region has encountered its share of tensions. They've been oppressed. Racially discriminated. Economically hurt. Attacked. And sadly, there's more that could probably be added to the list.

Thus, they have a point. In hard times, and with a history of experience (that didn't really occur too long ago), it's probably safer to stick with the people you know and trust. This would most-likely be your family.

Thinking about the close relationships in the families here reminded me of my family. Before I left, I received a few phone calls from aunts, uncles and cousins who simply loved on me and wished me the best. They are the sweetest.  One uncle called me while I was fixing my suitcase. He was really encouraging too. And when I landed, a few other family members messaged me to check in and see how my time was going. I even was reminded of a few nights before I left. I was packing and working late into the night while l had my sister on speakerphone. Classic. I love moments like this.

My family ... I just love them. and this is definitely what I miss the most. All they do is show me love. Simply grateful.

Coffee shops (our other office)

 

my work, my team and my cup of jo

Our office is in a building that has a lot of construction going on during the work day. It's loud and sometimes distracting, and when we cannot handle it anymore (or have no internet connection), we gather our belongings and head down the street to a coffee shop.

of course I added sugar

To get to this coffee shop, we have to cross a major road. Kurdish people normally time it right and just walk out across four lanes of traffic and continue on their way. Sounds easy, but when you're standing on the side of the road watching these cars pass, it's another story. Sometimes, drivers make their own lanes on the road. Classic. City driving is the same here too, I guess. It's hard to tell who will slow down and whether or not someone is going to try to jet around a slower vehicle. This is probably the main reason it scares me to cross these major roads sometimes.

That, and the fact that the people I'm walking with do not always tell me when they're about to cross the road. When I realize they're crossing, I do somewhat of a stutter step, which can totally throw the timing off. And it's scary.

Obviously, crossing major roads is not something I'm used to, so this may take some time for me to get a handle on it. I really hope to master this sooner rather than later, though, because it seems like we will be going to the coffee shop every week.

This is okay with me because I like this cafe. Yep, believe it or not, I've been ordering coffee because I've become such a fan of this Italian coffee shop. It has a relaxing atmosphere and outlets for American electronic devices. Sounds like a great place to work to me! I've been very productive there, and I've been introduced to cappuccinos. I'm not a big coffee drinker, but by the time we head over, I normally have one around the 3 p.m. time block, and it ends up being the right extra boost of energy. When you first arrive, they give you a menu when you sit down. On my first day, I just pointed to one of the pictures in the menu. Next to the picture, it said "Italiano Cappucino." This is my go-to now. With a bit of sugar, I'm able to drink it. However, I think I've finally won my battle with jet lag, so I'll totally be looking for something else on the menu.

Some of the team at work

The Cafe's cool bookshelf

This is just a part of the PLC team. They're great.

Going strong. Culturally offending people at church.

In this city, there's an international church that meets on a weekend evening. When you arrive, like most other churches, you're greeted with smiles and handshakes, and questions like

"What are you doing here?"

"Have you been here long?"

"Where are you from?"

"I don't think I've seen you before, are you new here?"

"Are you an english teacher?"

"... and what will you be doing here?"

Goodness. So many questions, I thought, but after learning a bit about this church, it makes sense. The regular attenders of this church look forward to seeing new faces, which makes it seem like most people here are very intentional about meeting visitors. This is a transient city. Some of the frequent short-termers are English teachers, and after their time here, the teachers either head back to the States or to another country to continue their work.

After I met a few people, I found a seat with my friend and waited for the service to start. More and more people started coming into the room. I noticed that the crowd of people at the door was a mix of people. The international church is open to everyone, which means even locals of a different faith can attend the church if they want to. There were quite a bit of Muslims attending the service, and this surprised me because ... it's church. I immediately wondered if their families knew about this. My friend explained to me that most of them attend these services to practice their English speaking skills during the hangout time after the service.

As some locals took their seats around us, I greeted them. I only shook the hands of Kurdish women, and I made sure to place my right hand over my heart and gently tap it while I said "Choni," which means "hello" in Kurdish, to the men. Men and women's interactions with one another are very minimal here. You should be extra careful in your interactions with the opposite sex because it could come across as flirtatious. For this reason, you (if you're a woman) are not supposed to shake a man's hand or look at men in the eyes. If you do, you are sending a completely wrong message. It shows you are interested and, faster than you realize, it could take things to a completely different level. I intentionally made a note of this during orientation, so I did my best to keep these things in mind at church too. I knew there would probably be a meet and greet time during the service.

I brought out my middle school book-covering skills, and
covered my devo book with a Whole Foods paper bag. It's
sitting on top of my bible, which is not covered since it looks
pretty new.

That cup of tea is just a normal drink I'll have around here.

Once most of the people found their seats, worship began. We sang songs in English and Kurdish. Then, the pastor opened up the floor for prayers and scripture reading, and he encouraged everyone to speak in their own native tongue. For about ten minutes, you could hear multiple languages. This was cool. When it came time for the message, I pulled out my "new" bible that I had never used before. I got it from Taylor on my graduation day. I am used to having my small, faded-brown, leather bible with bent pages and markings all over it with specific sections highlighted. This, however, was the exact reason I decided to leave it at home. The idea of writing on a "holy book" doesn't go over so well in this culture. It's offensive. During the service, I wanted to write something down, but I didn't. It's moments like this when I realize there's a little more adjustment that I'm going to have to do in order to get used to living here.

The pastor made his closing remarks 30 minutes later, and I was happy that I had made it! I, being culturally appropriate, made it through the service. Success!

Unfortunately, this success did not continue throughout the night. When we left the main room, my friend and I headed to the refreshments area to meet new people. He stopped to talk with his Kurdish friend, and noticing that he was a male, I kept walking. Later on, my friend called me over to introduce me to this friend. Great, I thought! I get to be his friend too! I had been wanting to meet Kurdish people. But with this individual, my excitement quickly turned into fear.

"Yvette, this is (let's call him Robert)," said my friend.

I smiled, looked at him and said hi.

Oh no!

This was so hard. I had already accidentally looked at him in the eyes, and I internally panicked just a bit. I didn't know where to look. I knew "Robert" was looking at me, and it was natural to look back, but it wasn't okay and I couldn't figure out what to do.

How do you respectfully meet someone and not look at him in the eyes? How do I do this?! 

After I realized I looked at him, I immediately looked down at my hand and, for some very odd reason, I thought it would be best to keep looking at my hand and go in for a handshake.  Yea, no. That was terrible thinking, but I didn't catch myself early enough. Before I realized it, we shook hands.

FAIL 

Shaking a man's hand is culturally offensive, 

especially if you are a woman.

Are you kidding me?
I had done such a great job just minutes earlier remembering what to or not to do. How did I forget this? The answer:

It all happened so fast, really. 

I'm thankful that Robert was forgiving. He graciously smiled and shook my hand, and he even continued to talk with me after I looked him in the eyes. Apparently, he had spent a lot of time around westerners, and he was used to some of this. This brought a little comfort to me at the time. However, I still feel pretty bad about that situation.

Yvette, let's never do that again. 

Ordered my first meal by myself today!

I still do not speak Kurdish very well. I have "Hello" and "Thank You" memorized really well, but everything else, I have to refer back to my cheat sheet.

I ordered biryani for lunch today ... Yep, I ordered it by myself. It was me and the cashier (and David, who was standing to the side because he wanted to see me do this). Yep, I did so well that I even purchased a coke without knowing it. Awesome.

David ended up enjoying the coke with his meal, and I enjoyed my water with Biryani. Biryani is a rice bowl with nuts, chicken, dates (or maybe they were raisins) and spices. The rice looks curried and the raisins (or dates) bring a subtle and sweet surprise to every bite. It was good. Different. But Good.

Sorry I didn't have my camera with me to show you what it looked like, but you'll just have to settle with this picture of a coke I took earlier in the week. The point of this post was to tell you, "I can finally buy a meal by myself!" Be excited with me :-) It's a bit of a big deal since I'm limited in what I can do by myself here. Celebrate!

A Day of Firsts

Thursday, the last day of the business week here, was my first day interning with PLC. My flight had landed in the middle of the night, but I managed to get about four hours of sleep thanks to jet lag. The next morning, I did not wake up to my alarm as quickly. The kids playing in a nearby room definitely helped, though. It helped me get up and start going. When I got out of bed, I immediately dug through my suitcase to find an appropriate outfit for work. I figured that most of my clothes would look pretty wrinkly since I didn't take any items out the night before.

I ended up putting on everything that seemed wrinkle-free. As a result, my outfit included loose-fit pants, a dress down to my knees, a scarf and a cardigan. Modesty? Nailed it. I was ready for the day apparel-wise, not energy-wise. I grabbed my bag and some water, and then I headed off to work.

On my way to work, I began to look around at all the buildings in the neighborhood. I couldn't really see anything the night before. The dusty streets lead up to different colored houses with different designs. I wasn't expecting everything I saw. It was a pretty developed neighborhood with cars made by Kia, Hyundai, Chevorlet and BMW.

I think I'm starting to catch on to why this is called the other Iraq.


Anyway, after one day in a new city, I've already encountered so many new things. I've shared a few examples with you. Here's my day of firsts list:

• First time I've worked in an office where you could take off your shoes. In this culture, when you visit anyone's home or work in an office, you're expected to take off your shoes before entering into the main part of the home or office. I could get use to this. Already a fan!
• First time at a Bazaar, the local market area where you can buy food, phones, scarves, etc. This was quite the sight. It made me excited to spend more time in the culture because so much was going on. People were dressed in both conservative and modern wear. You could hear the afternoon prayers from the mosque throughout the city. You could see crowded streets, walk through the traffic, cut off traffic (and hope you don't get hit by a car). My visit to the bazaar gave me a great glimpse of this culture. I just felt engulfed in the community, and I loved it. I'll take pictures when I go back next time. 
• First time eating food in Iraq. I also had my first Kurdish meal for lunch. It was tasty. Take a look at some of the dishes:
  
  
• First time seeing a squatty potty. Yep, 'nuff said there.
• First time in this region. I've never really had a desire to travel to the ME except to see the pyramids in Egypt, but while I was in the airport, I realized just how many cool things there are to see in each country, as there are so many different unique cultures in this part of the world. I'm just intrigued...
• First time understanding my status as a woman. I have no freedom. (I'll speak more to this later). This is not really an exaggeration. In this male-dominated culture, I'm already feeling the limitations I have just for being a 1.) young 2.) single 3.) foreign 4.) woman. The way I approach things is very different. And I'll be honest ... this is going to take a lot of patience.

Thank you for the sweet birthday wishes!

When you get to be my age ...

I have to admit that I actually don't know how to finish that statement. What happens when you're 25 anyway?  You can finally rent a car. Sure, that's one things, but what else? I still expect to be carded everywhere I go, considering my flight attendants just called me some endearing names.

"Thanks for flying, honey."

"Enjoy your stay, sweetie." 

Those of you who know me well know that this is a bit of a sensitive subject. Don't worry, I'll let it go, but really, what happens when you're 25?


My birthday was on Sept. 25th, and I spent most of my birthday either in the air or in the Turkish International Airport. I've never been to Istanbul, Turkey, so that was cool, but I hope to one day go back and actually see Istanbul and not only it's airport. (I've already added it to my list of places to travel ... Who's with me?). During my six-hour layover, I lived on two cups of chai tea from Starbucks, read a lot and walked around for a while to stay awake. Nothing too eventful, really, which is probably what I needed: time to just relax. It's been a busy time, so relaxing for a bit was nice.

My flight landed on time, and I was able to meet a part of my team and head to bed. Later that day, they surprised me with a late birthday celebration. They're so nice!

Smiling with some of my new PLC friends. Thanks for celebrating with me :-)

Look, that's a part of the team during the birthday celebration. I had Kurdish tea, a pretty good cupcake and great company. No complaints :-)

I don't even like cupcakes, but this one ... well, it was different. The frosting tasted like the frosting normally used for carrot cakes, and the cake part might have had cinnamon in it. Now that I think about it, I'm not too sure about what was actually in it, but all you really need to know: it was delicious.

The team was really sweet to celebrate my birthday. They even hung birthday signs, which I didn't see at first (I'll blame that on jet lag because the signs were literally right above the table).

Anyway, this is one of the ways I celebrated the big 2-5. Thanks so much, again, for the birthday  notes and messages from home. You guys are the sweetest! Your birthday wishes made me smile when I was in the airport. Here's to my Golden Year ...

Sandals on the Ground

Guess What   

I'm here! 

Healthy! And Safe!

I've actually been here for a bit now, but I've had to lay low while I've been learning about the culture and trying to get a handle on a few things before I went live with this blog. I did appreciate all of your prayers for my travel, though. Thank you also to those who helped me prepare for this trip and get excited. You guys are great.

When I left Istanbul, I had a two-hour flight left before my destination. This is when it all really began to hit. I'm going to be living here for two months, I thought. After talking and preparing for it for such a long time, I couldn't believe that this was now when reality decided to sink in.

When I got off the plane, I walked on to one of the buses that takes passengers to the airport. The bus was quiet, and I tried to avoid eye contact with everyone because I could already begin to feel the stares. This young woman looked at me with a bright smile and said "Hi!" "What are you doing here?" She was so friendly ... and loud. She was the only one talking on the bus, so everyone was listening in. She asked me questions like, "What's your name?" Where are you from?" "Are you American?" "Where will you be staying?" and more.

Why she had a lot of question, I thought. My next thought was that it's 3 a.m. and she is way too happy. I first questioned if she was being sincere, but I eventually thought she was because she was really nice. She was probably just being herself and trying to welcome me to the town. This was great, except for the fact that I felt so uncomfortable offering up some of this information for many reasons.

1.) She was someone I had just met  

2.) We were in the passport/visa line 

3.) It was my first time being in this country

There was still so much for me to learn about what was appropriate to say and what I should avoid, but not knowing what to do, I tried my best to not share too much information. So I took the easy way out and tried to answer questions as vaguely as possible.

On the bus, the nice woman not only figured out that I was a student at an American university, but she managed to announce it to the whole bus. Her next question for me after that was a simple one, "where are you from?"

Just to warn you ... At this point, I may or may not have stretched the truth. I really just didn't know what to do, and I thought I would try to tell her things that would make the conversation die down. Remembering that she was so excited that I went to an American University, I told her I was from the Caribbean. (Like I said, stretching the truth.) I didn't think she would ask me much more about America.

"Carribean, really?" She asked, excitedly. (oh dear, I couldn't help but wonder why she was so excited. This plan looked much different in my head).

"You're Jamaican, right?!" she asked, once again announcing it to everyone (Okay, what on earth? This just reached a level of creepy.)

"Yes. How did you know?" I asked, surprised.

"Oh, I could just tell"

Yea right, I thought. What's her story anyway?

She went on to tell me about all her Jamaican friends, and I just smiled away in complete shock.

After 20 minutes or so, we said our goodbyes and she went up to the counter to check her passport.  I shared this story with a part of the team after they picked me up from the airport. They laughed, and told me it's totally okay to say I'm American and that I'll be working with a medical nonprofit. This is one of the most progressive cities in the country, and having foreigners visit is not too uncommon.

Well, now I know that I can be more transparent in this area than I thought. So there's that.. I guess I'm already racking up those awkward moments. Great. Anyway, I'm here and I'm excited to be here :-)

The sky looks really beautiful in the evening. I learned that sometimes the pinks and purples in the sky are actually caused by all the dust in the area. Interesting.

Looking forward to sharing more updates with you. Thanks, again, for all of the love and support!