Happy Thanksgiving

Every Thanksgiving growing up, my mom would have us hold hands around the table and each say something we were thankful for before gorging on turkey and mashed potatoes and stuffing and cranberry sauce and pecan pie and everything else delicious that comes with traditional Thanksgiving meals. 

I've had periods where I dislike Thanksgiving for all of the usual reasons- overindulgence, the commercialism, the origins of Thanksgiving, yada yada yada. Maybe being away from America is what helps me separate myself from all that so that I can really focus in on the many people, experiences and things I have to be thankful for. As I've gotten older, the number of Thanksgivings spent away from my family and outside of the states is increasing, but so are the number of things I have to be thankful for. Nearly all of them fall into one of two categories: people and experiences. 

I am thankful for my family and friends back home, the ones who I have known my entire life or close to that. I miss them every day but am so grateful for how supportive they are. They were supportive in my decision to move somewhere far away and continue to be there for me when things are rough. I'm thankful for every email, Skype call, or quick text message that reminds me that I too am in there thoughts and am not being forgotten about. 

I'm thankful for this experience. Getting to spend 27 months living in another culture that I used to know so little about. I recognize the deep and unique privilege that I have been given to be able to get up and go somewhere new. I'm thankful for the people who have welcomed me into this place, adopted me as a daughter and sister. Who have invited me to join in all their family celebrations and will feed me until I feel like I'm going to explode. Who will slow down their Arabic so that I can understand what's going on and who will explain to me the really confusing plots of Turkish soap operas.  This whole experience would feel empty and purposeless and plain ol sad without these people.  

The friends I have made through Peace Corps, the other volunteers, are like family. Most of them scoff at this but we all know it's true. Some of the dynamics are slightly dysfunctional, just like all families, but we love each other and there is a level of comfort I have with them that exceeds many other relationships. They're a unique, hardworking, silly group of folks. 

Tonight I will celebrate Thanksgiving by getting together with a group of volunteers. We'll eat chicken because it's too hard to find and roast a turkey. I'm not sure if we will have pie and there definitely won't be any of those tasty seasonal beers that are coming out around this time, but we'll be together and can collectively give thanks for this experience. 

A happy happy happy Thanksgiving to you all. Be sure to count your blessings and, if you have the chance, eat some pecan pie and think of me during every delicious bite. 

The wedding

I knew that Peace Corps would provide me with many experiences to add to my "list of firsts"... first time crossing the Atlantic, first time getting an Amoeba, first time having a cockroach climb out of my drain mid-shower.  Ya know. Peace Corps stuff. But never did I ever imagine that "first time hosting a bachelorette party (laylat henna)" or "first time getting my hair and makeup professionally done" would be added to the list during my 27 months as a Peace Corps volunteer.

Laylat henna is the Arab world's equivalent to a bachelorette party. It's the night before the wedding where all the women gather in once place and the men in another to celebrate the soon to be newlyweds. Traditionally, the bride's hands are decorated with henna. However, at this party the bride opted to go sans henna, but with music, singing and dancing.

The groom is my landlord's oldest son and the bride is a very distant cousin of the family. They were planning on having the women's party on my landlord's roof but Thursday was overcast and they were nervous it was going to rain. So Thursday morning two of my landlord's daughters come to propose the idea of having the party in a big spare room in my house that up until recently had stored all of the furniture for the newlyweds. I was a little hesitant but agreed. The hesitance comes from my overall dislike of being in big groups of people without the opportunity for a breath of air. But, after all, this is the family that feeds me and takes care of me and goes out of their way to accommodate me all of the time.

We cleaned up the room, the living room, and the bathroom and got the speakers and chairs set up. I asked the girls how many guests they thought would come and they told me "mish katheer" (not a lot). Guests showed up around 7 and the party went on well past 11. There were at least 70 women and children in my house- dancing, eating cake, drinking Arabic coffee, the kids spraying silly string. The speakers broke sometime around 10, but drumming and singing immediately filled the sudden silence. Women would come into my room to feed their babies and put them to sleep and teenage girls would peak through my bedroom and bathroom windows to spy on the boys' party happening on the roof near by. All in all it was a fun night. I was a bit of a stressed mess, wondering about whether or not strangers were going through the "edjnabeeas" (the foreigner's) stuff. But at the end of the night all of my landlords daughters and some other women stayed to help clean the house, leaving it much cleaner than it was to begin with.  

The wedding was the following night. At 2 I went with the oldest sister to get my hair and makeup done at a saloon near by (the other girls went to Irbid, the big city about an hour north). More firsts I should note- first time having more than 30 bobby pins in my hair at once and first time wearing orange eye shadow out in public.

The wedding was at a big hall in Ajloun, a good thing because there were about 300 men and about 400 women and kids who attended the party. There are no vows read in front of all the guests. The bride and groom sign a legal document sometime during the party to officiate the marriage. The bride and groom sit on a big chair at the front of the hall for about 30 minutes at the beginning of the party and dance a little bit until the groom heads to the other hall to socialize with the men. The bride remains in the chair and people go up to congratulate her. Everyone else dances or sits and chats and eats kunafa.

The party ends by about 8 and the procession of cars starts back to Kufranja. Once people reach town, the honking and gun shots start. Cars put on their emergency blinkers as they drive and lay on their horns to alert the town of the newlyweds. It's a lot more fun to be part of then to listen to (I live right off of the main road and there are weddings almost every weekend... in fact, I hear one now)

Some people go on honeymoons, but this is becoming much less common due to the economy and that Syria, which was once a common affordable vacation spot for Jordanians, is now in war and ruins. In a few days the newlyweds will have a housewarming party where friends will go visit their new home and bring gifts. It is also tradition for multi generations of families to live right next to each other, the new house is right below the groom's family.  The next son to get married will live in the house where I'm living now. He happens to be a charming guy who is just about my age, but as fun as the wedding was, and as great as this house is, the idea of having a Jordanian wedding and living in this house for the rest of my life just doesn't seem particularly appealing.