Operation: Dard and Devotion

3 | Pleasantries & Pain

It was nearly one in the morning when we had arrived at Yassar's house, which was a humble-looking elongated farmhouse with a plain door, a few windows, as well as a few sheds nearby that housed some animals. A smaller farmhouse was within walking distance on the property.

Yassar introduced me to his family, to say the least - clan would have been a better word. In a quick breath, he introduced his mother, his father, his twin sister Rafaa, his older brother and his wife and their five children. Some of the neighboring Bedouin families as well as their dozens of children who happily ran around in circles upon seeing me.

"These are some of the children you'll be teaching," Yassar explained to me and smiled. I knelt down to their level and beamed at all of them. In an instant, over a dozen arms wrapped around my neck in a friendly embrace. Even though my Arabic was weak, non-verbals certainly did the trick.

"Enough chatter," Rafaa piped up, straightening the folds in her jilbaab. She was definitely shorter than both Yassar and I, but her features were not unlike that of her brother's; her face was equally youthful. "The food will get cold. Hayat," she grinned at me. "Come, I will show you where you can get refreshed while we set up the meal."

I grabbed my suitcases and followed her lead into the narrow hallways of the house until she stopped at a heavily curtained doorway towards the rear of the building.

Rafaa's face flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry," she apologized. "This sounds...silly, but a male goat ran into the house a few days back and well, head-butted the door to the bathroom. We haven't fixed it yet, but there's curtains hanging up instead. It's safe, but don't take too long, just in case."

I nodded slowly and stuck my head through the curtains, examining the space. The toilet was a hole in the ground that required squatting to use, not much different than most of the toilets in Pakistan. The faded blue bathtub was attached to one of the walls. I quickly grabbed some clean undergarments and leggings from my luggage along with my navy blue jilbaab, and placed them on a shelf beside the towel rack.

I showered briskly in order to avoid a potentially uncomfortable situation involving soapy limbs contorting to hide private parts.

Soon after, everyone gawked at me when I entered the large living room.

Crap. I forgot to wear the hijab. But I wasn't wearing it earlier when I arrived, so that can't be the reason. Plus, my hair is still damp from towel-drying it.

"Mash'Allah." Rafaa got up and greeted me with a kiss on my cheek. "You look very nice in the jilbaab."

Oh, so that's why everyone was staring.

"Oh." I flushed, not knowing how to properly accept a compliment without being awkward about it. "Thank you." I smiled.

A large red sheet was laid out on the floor with various dishes spread out all across it. A mezze was place in the middle, containing a variety of olives on small platters, as well as hummus and eggplant, pickles, cucumbers, tomatoes, okra, onions and white cheese.

Surrounding the mezze were cooked goat and lamb, in addition to pita bread and some fruits.

The scent of strong coffee flavored with cardamom filled the air and I was completely salivating. Everyone sat in a circle and I took a seat with Rafaa and Yassar on either side.

"Bismillah," rumbled amongst us all as a way to give thanks for plentiful food.

While eating, Yassar told his family, in Arabic, a little bit about my background and that my mother is from Jordan. They were surprised to hear that I decided to help temporarily teach in a village instead of in an urban setting.