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.