Much of Jesuit life is about accompaniment and I had a chance to do that with a summer outing for the people who attend functions at the Jesuit Centre. We were Somalis, Sudanese, Jordanians, Iraqi, Yemeni, Americans, Egyptians, and a few other places.
We left for Wadi Shakir around 9:30 a.m. I know I misspelled the name of the place, but I know it is very near to Iraq al Amir, which means the Caves of the Princes. It is where the prophet Tobit has inscribed his name on the entrance to the Cave walls and it would be the place where Elijah listened for God's voice following the thunder and rush of wind. It is a lush wadi (valley) where lots of eggplants, zucchini, bananas, and other produce are grown.
This is the location of the Royal Flower, that is rarely seen. It is the Black Iris, which is really dark purple, but it blossoms in late April and early May. Few Jordanians have ever seen one in real life, but it is their national symbol.
The road to this water camp was quite eventful as we passed many goats, a white camel, a braying donkey dotted along a scenic mountainside that almost looks like an Italian countryside. The hills and valleys make for some nice scenery. As we approached the campsite, we could see the Royal Palace that is designed for recreational purposes on the highest hill. You can see the Jordan Valley and River, the Dead Sea, and the terrain of Palestine. Sometimes you can see what looks like layers of smoke on the horizon, but it is dust from the desert that gets kicked up by the wind. All in all, it is a beautiful view, and I always think of the Prophet Isaiah's words: Make straight the pathways. The valleys will be filled in and the mountains laid low, and the road home from exile will be flat, and the desert will be bursting with flowers and fruited trees.
The road was winding and narrow and most drivers don't like to give an inch. Drivers here have a different concept of space as we do in the U.S. We had a couple of hairpin turns in low gear before we arrived at the water camp.
I finished reading a theology book because I found a spot in the shade where I could simply take some quiet. In the hot weather, one perspires without producing sweat, and it is important to hydrate, so I took some slow time just to finish a book I really liked.
The people enjoyed it so much. They immediately ran down to the river, took off their sandals, and put their feet in the water. After some Sundanese coffee and a falafel snack, they were ready for bones or dancing. I joined in one game of bones that I scarcely remember from childhood. It was good just to play with the guys, who turned to cards after a while. Most were there to practice their English and to have fun.'
Some came over to talk in English, but they were too shy. They asked me to be gentle with them, but they got all over me when I mispronounced a word. They taught me how to form sounds in Arabic. I wish I had these instructions years ago. It is quite amazing to realize how extensive the Arabic world is, and where their centers of culture are located. There are different dialects for Yemeni, and people from Qatar, but their world centers around Arabic cities. One would have no problem moving between Pakistan, Baghdad, or Beirut because Arabic ties it all together. It is fascinating to realize that Amman is the fifth largest city in the Arab world, and so it becomes a center for commerce, culture, and vacations. A Francophone nation might want to visit Paris, many want to visit Germany, but the place many really would like to visit is Spain because it was once an Islamic nation. They don't know what city they want to visit or what they might want to see, but it was once part of their heritage while being European at the same time.
We talked a lot about hijabs and clothing and various Islamic customs and sayings. There are times when I want to greet someone as sister because she is wearing nun's clothing, but then I recognize that it is Islamic wear. The point is that the habits of sisters come from the attire of the middle east. The same with clerics and men's robes like cassocks. You will see a man walking down the road in a cassock and then realize he is not a priest. We are not all that different. Obviously, the Middle Ages adapted the clerical attire to be much more stratified, and now we are left with Medieval garments.
We spent a lot of time talking, and laughing, and finally the woman got me to dance, and then the men danced. Fortunately, the lunch bell rang and I had a way out, but all throughout the afternoon when someone would see me, they would imitate a move I made, and they would start chuckling. Most of all, the people just wanted me as an American and as a priest to sit with them to talk. They did not care what we spoke about but they wanted to chance to use their newly acquired language while being seen and known by an American.
I placed my feet in the water one more time and cooled down before the trek back to Amman. Since it was a Thursday, the traffic would be bad because it is like heavy Cape or Maine traffic on a Friday. Cars jockey for any position and they thereby make greater delays. Anyways, it was a lovely day, and we shared many laughs, many stories, and learned many lessons.
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