Baptisms in Jordan?

I knew the church had a presence in Jordan but I never thought I would spend the summer witnessing baptism after baptism here. All together I've seen 5 and only one of those was for an 8 year old child of an United States ex-patriot. The rest were all Arab individuals, 3 men who have been attending the branch here in Amman, and one woman from Syria, who had to come to Amman to be baptized. One in particular, Samir, will be a solid member of the church and begin to take more and more leadership roles in the next few years. I admire him greatly for his insight into the gospel, for his dedication, and for the positive influence he has already had on other members of the branch. In particular, I believe the other two men who were baptized reached the point where they wanted to only after seeing Samir take that step and realizing that despite different misgivings they might still have they too could take that leap of faith and be baptized. Seeing all of those has made me so happy and excited about the growth of the gospel here in Jordan, even if it is slow, consists mostly of non-Arabs, and is only one Christian at a time. It's growing.

My favorite was the Syrian lady because it was such a distance she had to travel and she was really nervous about the experience. For her, church had consisted of 4 individuals, herself, the senior missionary couple, and a BYU grad who was studying Arabic in Syria. Coming to Jordan to be baptized was a huge step for her in accepting the gospel but she was concerned about how well she would be accepted, if there would be people there to support her, and if what she was doing would really make a difference. She was surprised to find so many people there, so many of them young Americans, and so many who were excited for her and spoke to her in Arabic. The actual baptism was the best one I had ever seen. In many ways it reminded me of time spent in the Southern United States of America where Evangelicals and other Christians have a sense of excitement about the gospel that exceeds the conservatism of the LDS faith. However, one thing I have realized is when something is excited and needs expressing, even a group of American conservative Mormons will deliver. The minute she came out of the water the entire group of about 50 people who had crowded around the outdoor font in order to get the best view broke into an unadulterated applause reserved for the best music performances. If there could possibly have been an encore to this number one would have been delivered after the applause of the audience but since this was the culminating moment it simply received the praise that it got. I can't really describe the excitement and happiness I felt in the moment when she came up. I knew it was a big step for her but the spontaneous applause made me want to shout for joy and had me thinking of the descending of the Holy Spirit on the people as recorded in the first chapters of Acts. It was a marvelous event and one that will not soon be forgotten amidst my tales of Middle Eastern adventures and experiences.

Hitchhiking

I spent Sunday night and Monday at the Dead Sea enjoying the ultra clean filtered rays of the sun at 400 ft below sea level and the healing properties of a sea filled with far too much salt and other minerals. It was a great end to my summer seeing as the very first weekend I was here in Jordan I went to the Dead Sea, and now on my last weekend as well. It was a fitting end to the summer. As with any trip in that part of the country it is easy to get there because of the bus and taxi situations, but a little more difficult getting back without paying too much money. Our solution is to stand on the side of the highway and hitchhike. My experience with this has been completely positive, not quite what I expect each time, but positive nevertheless. This time we managed a small van with a driver, his son, and another man hauling diapers. They said they were going to Amman and since we were going there too, we climbed in. It turns out that our route to Amman wasn't very direct, but it provided us with some interesting experiences, some great scenery, and one more memory of the people and place that has been my home during the last 3 months.

We started off making a few turns that obviously weren't in the direction of Amman. When I realized this I started paying closer attention just as a precaution but they turned around and talked to us and told us what they were doing. Unfortunately, we don't actually speak Arabic, between the four of us we managed to figure out that they were telling us we had to make a detour before going to Amman. As far as what they actually said, we don't have a clue, but the message was communicated nevertheless, probably mostly by the fact that we weren't on a main road. We ended up in a smaller village and turned down an even smaller and dirtier alley to come to a stop outside a store, at which point we all got out and a few of us helped unload the few bags of diapers that were in the back and then waited for the next step of our journey. A few short conversations and after a bottle of water went around the group we loaded up and were off again. This time we headed up a canyon road to that would eventually bring us into Amman from the North.

Most of this trip was uneventful until our driver suddenly slammed on his breaks and swerved to the right of the road where he sat impatiently for 10 seconds while a half-dozen cars passed us before he put the van in reverse and haphazardly started back down the road we had just come. I looked around trying to figure out what he was doing when I noticed a crate of cucumber looking things sitting out on the side of the road by themselves. Sure, enough our driver jumped out of the car and barely paused to check for traffic as he darted across the road to get the vegetables. Now they were sitting on the ground just waiting and as he picked them up a woman came to the gate of the house, they exchanged a few words but it was obvious that they were extra and just up for grabs. As he returned we had pseudo-cucumbers for everybody, and although they were getting a little too ripe they were quite good. About 30 minutes later we pull over to the side of the road next to a stream. Our three Arab escorts immediately begin washing their hands and faces in the stream and motion for us to do the same. Being the obedient American hitchhikers we were we figured, “hell, why not?” And followed suit. It turns out the stop had another reason equally as valid besides just cooling off the face and head, but they used the stream to fill their water bottles to pour all over the radiator and parts of the engine. Something about being in the middle of a blazing hot desert while driving up a steep winding canyon road required the old van to be cooled off partway through its journey, I can understand that. I found the whole unexpected nature of the stop amusing. The stop, the stream, the washing, and then the cooling off of the car, all during which nobody attempted much conversation, neither them nor us.

In many situations I find that it is just easier to sit back and observe rather than trying to engage in conversation. Likewise, I think they assumed our Arabic wasn't good enough to warrant the effort a conversation would require in attempting to speak words that would be understood by all parties. After our refreshing pit stop, it only took us another 40 minutes and one more stop for some more vegetables, this time at a small roadside stand, before we arrived back in Amman and they dropped us off. We gave them a small amount of money, which they tried to decline, and then we thanked them graciously as we got out of the car.

All together the people in Jordan are more than willing to help out, some more than others, and some for more money than others, but more than willing. My hitchhiking experiences in Jordan have taught me a couple of things. The most important is that people are generally good and very few have ill intentions for you. Sure, they may want something out of the exchange, but since they are providing me with a service I'm more than happy to pay them some money to compensate them for the extra time, gas, and effort that was required to pick me up off the side of a highway in the middle of the desert.

Did I ever wonder if I was completely safe while I was in the car of a complete stranger? Sure, but then I realized that's ridiculous, I get in cars with complete strangers all the time, they are just usually yellow and say “Taxi.” Those experiences aren't always pleasant and they are suppose to be legitimate businesses. Hitchhiking tends to have such a negative connotation associated with it, especially among Americans, and I've realized that it isn't any different from getting in any other type of car, be it a taxi, a bus, or a person willing to pick you up off the side of the road. If you get in enough cars you are bound to have some bad experiences, regardless of whether the drivers are part of a “legitimate” business venture. Hitchhiking just happens to be a way where the interaction is more interesting, and in the end sometimes you end up with a free ride, something you'll almost never get from a taxi, especially along the lonely desert roads. So do I support hitchhiking, absolutely, but it is situational and like any aspect of life when you are about to get into a car with someone you don't know you need to judge the situation and decide if it will be safe whether that be with “public” transportation or “private.”

Comfort and Familiarity

I walked across the University of Jordan campus today and noticed that despite spending more than 3 months here I didn't feel at home, I didn't feel comfortable. I noticed that although I wasn't uncomfortable I didn't feel like I belonged. It was a strange sensation for me because I immediately thought about where exactly it was that I felt I belonged and I thought of a number of places. I feel that I belong in my parents home, at BYU, in Provo, and in Washington D.C. It is strange how places that once felt comfortable no longer do. I noticed this when I went back to D.C. and visited N.D.U. It didn't feel like I belonged there because I no longer did, the same is true when I visit Lone Peak High. However, I still feel that belonging at college. Even though I recognize that I can sit for hours in a class or on campus and not see or talk to anybody I know, I still feel at home amidst all of those strangers. I can't really explain why, part of it is a familiarity, part of it is experience, and other is a personal or emotional connection to the place. While walking across the campus here I realized that although I have friends here, and although I have spent more time than I care to think about studying here I still don't feel a connection. I feel like a transient and this is merely one of thousands of stops on my journey. It is sad in a way. I should have grown comfortable enough to feel like I was leaving part of me behind when I left. However, I am just happy to be going.

There are people and things I will miss. I will miss the excitement and smiles and conversations with my friends at the Language Center, especially with Aliet and Shereen. I will miss lunches at the Sheiks where I could eat pita, hummus, and potatoes to my hearts content at a discounted price because we visited so frequently and became his friends. I am going to miss traveling to and from school on micro buses and with crazy taxi drivers. I am going to really miss the mezzanines call to prayer throughout the day.

Despite these, I am excited to go home and at this point I don't feel that I will miss them enough to really be sad about leaving. I am ready to go home and feel comfortable, to belong, to fit in, and to enjoy familiarity. I don't know how long that will last before my love of the peoples, cultures, and ideas of the world reignites my desire to travel. But I am sure it will happen again. I will be home for awhile and I will remember why I left, why I began studying Arabic and the Middle East in the first place, and once again I will look for the opportunities to leave America and embark on another adventure. That day will come I am sure, but for now I am looking forward to my day of return.

thoughts from a train...Egypt

It's been a beautiful morning. I woke up around 5:30 and got out of bed to watch the countryside roll by. I'm currently on a sleeper train on my way to Luxor in southern Egypt. I spent at least 30 minutes this morning just staring out the window observing the people and their fields and houses as I passed by. I wanted to be able to go talk to them, to talk about their lives, their livelihood, their expectations, their disappointments, and what makes them happy. Most of the people I saw were poor. Most were farming some type of grass or hay and beyond that I'm not sure what they were doing. Men and boys were gathered around fires lit along the roadside, I assume it must be chilly enough to warrant them in the morning, or they were starting something that I don't understand. From my protected perch on the train car it is difficult to really understand what it is like outside, everything passes like a film in front of my eyes. Landscapes are nice but they seem almost surreal and the people, well they are just figures whose lives pass before me in a glimpse. I don't understand them, I don't know what it is like to live like they do. I don't know their hardships, their hopes, their dreams, their aspirations, or if they even have any of these things. Perhaps they are merely trying to survive, but isn't that an aspiration in and of itself? I think so. Are they aware of the vast world which exists outside of their small village? To the contrary, am I really aware of their lives here? I think the answer to both questions is no, not really. We probably both have an idea of the others existence, but beyond that, we are both surviving according to what we know. (1 May 2008)