September 13th and 14th: An Adventure Marked by Tradition

Wednesday, September 12th (continued):
Just after my last post, I left for my first adventure to an Assyrian village (Anonayh in Assyrian and Kani Mase in Kurdish). My friend, N, invited me to stay there with her family to celebrate their religious holiday of the Exaltation of the Cross. We left around 6pm and arrived at her house around 8:30pm (of course this was driving extremely fast along hairpin turns - it probably would've taken me closer to four hours to get there.) We went over three mountain ranges to a village almost on the Turkish border. My friend asked me if I was afraid of the turns, and I told her my "village" was also between mountain ranges, so I was used to it!

It was dark when we arrived, but here is a picture of their house in the daylight:

The government built this house (above) for the family after the war, but N's father built the original house (below). The family uses the one above as their main house, but as all of N's family were in the village for the occasion, some of them slept here:

The village is located on the edges a valley. This is the mountain facing N's house and Turkey is just beyond.

Here's is the view of N's village from her house (to the Northwest). The church is located on the other side of the valley, where we walked to the next morning:

Looking to the Northeast, at the other end of the valley

As we got out of the car, the sound of crickets and the smell of fresh air were a welcoming experience. Such a difference from the city. I suppose it's true - you can take the girl out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the girl. The first to greet us was N's mother (N's father passed away in 2006 after a series unsuccessful operations weakened his body). She doesn't speak any English, but is very friendly and took good care of me while I was there. In total, thirteen of us stayed at her house. She seemed to love all the excitement and flurry that seven adults, two teenagers and three kids can't fail to create. (And if you're adding that up, I didn't include "mom") :)

N and I freshened up, then a group of us walked down to the local hang-out (a small concrete building with a lean-to attached, fluorescent lighting, dirt floors and branches for the covering). This is the main location (apart from their Assyrian hall) where all the villagers go to talk, eat, drink, play cards, and folk dance. I met some of N's friends (most of them live in big cities, like Duhok, but come back to the village for special occasions and for the hot, summer months).

When we got back, I was exhausted and ready for bed. It was about 11pm and early by their standards. I was excused since it had been a long day at school and I hadn't "taken a rest" that afternoon. N's mom also prefers to go to bed early and wake up early, so we went off to the room that we shared with N and N's niece. There were no doors (except to the Eastern toilet and to the "shower" room, which didn't really have a shower, just a bucket to sponge bathe).

Thursday, September 13th:

Despite the laughter coming from the living room, I fell asleep immediately and woke up around 7am. No one else was awake, so I read and enjoyed the view from my window - the first time I had seen all the natural beauty of their village in daylight.

N woke up about 8:30. We ate a fried egg with bread for breakfast, then set off for the church. It was a beautiful walk, along a dirt path that went down into the valley and back up to the mountain on the other side. As we neared the church, the rhythmic prayers and liturgy grew louder and louder. The church, including the covered outdoor section, was crowded with people who had come from villages all around to celebrate the occasion. We stood behind a line of people at the gate, then moved to seats in the covered area as they filed in to take the Lord's Supper. People moved in and out of the church as we sat in our chairs, greeting relatives and friends.

This is just part of the outdoor seating:

I should have started counting at this point, but didn't think of it until later on. As people started to notice me, N was obliged to tell them where I came from, giving them my entire life history, and then explain that I was a teacher and that we worked together. She must have told the story a hundred times. :) As the crowds came and went, we eventually met up with N's mom, who had left earlier by car.

N's mom is sitting in the middle, to her right is her best friend and neighbor, to her left is her brother's wife:

N's sister and her son, N, N's sister-in-law, Helda, and me

(Funny story: the person taking the picture didn't notice me at first, then realized that I wasn't Assyrian as he was taking the picture.)

After we left the church, N took me past this natural spring; then to another church, where her father is buried.

Along the way, two men joined our group. I learned afterwards that they were with the Assyrian television channel (more on that later...)

On the bridge at the base of the valley. A river usually runs through here, but this year it was very dry.

The temperature was much cooler than Duhok and very pleasant. Around 3pm it would get warm and we would usually "take a rest." At night, it was nice to bundle up under the blankets ... it reminded me of my "village" in Oregon. As a gift, I had brought N's mother a picture book of Oregon and they enjoyed looking at the natural beauties of the Pacific Northwest. Just after the bridge, I saw another reminder of home - blackberries! I didn't even know they grew here. Smaller than ours, but very juicy.

We stopped at another spring that flows right along one of the homes. They greeted us warmly, then opened up their beautiful yard to us ... this is not uncommon. In such a small, rural place, everything belongs to everyone, even to the extent that N, her mother, and brother share a wardrobe! We stayed by the spring for a long time.

 The family served us fresh fruit from their orchard (grapes, apples, and peaches).

The gate between the spring and their yard:

It was a peaceful place to relax. I tried to soak in every detail - the hummingbird flying among the yellow daisies, branches overladen with fruit, green grass and blue skies. Truly "shtrana," which is Assyrian for "beautiful."

After we arrived home, we changed into our house clothes and ate some rice and chicken with dolma (the ladies waited in the living room until the men had finished, then ate ours.) We "took a rest" for almost two hours, then ate again when we woke up and had "chai" (or tea) with milk and sugar.

The sugar and powdered milk are added first.

Concentrated tea is poured until the glass is about half full. After that boiling water is added to dilute it. The bread has a sugar and milk filling (very dry, but one of the traditional foods they make during this holiday. N told me that even if they don't like it, they will bake it and eat it because it is the tradition. I couldn't help but think of Fiddler on the Roof!)

Tea finished, preparations began for the party. I had a complete makeover. N's sister-in-law worked in a beauty salon for awhile, so she did my hair and makeup. N brought one of her dresses for me to wear (and thanks to Andy and Lisa, I had high heels to wear - they found them at the house when they moved in. Assyrian style is very different from Kurdish standards, and I know they didn't want me to look unfashionable.

Before:

After:

N's sister, me (yes, that's me), N, and N's sister-in-law

We arrived at the party fashionably late. N's brother had to take three carloads to get everyone to the hall, and we were the last group to be taken. Practically everyone in the village, and some from neighboring villages, were already there! There were about 700 people in attendance. We sat at our table for a few minutes, but that didn't last long. As soon as the singing began, so did the dancing. The man holding the flag is the lead dancer. Two steps forward, two small steps to the side, one step back, pivot, two steps forward and one step back, pivot, repeat. The dancing line moves around the outside wall as everyone in the middle watches, takes pictures, and perhaps joins in.

N asks me if I'd like to try. I remember watching this dance (sheikhani) at the teacher picnic last year. We join the line and I pick up the steps fairly quickly. As we move around the room, cameras start flashing. Women cut in to dance next to me and their friend shuffles behind chairs to take a picture. Soon I notice the men from the Assyrian TV channel training their video camera in our direction. My fifteen minutes of fame! People are whispering and nudging their neighbors. Some of them know N and they ask her where I am from. All of them are amazed that I can dance and make sure to tell N that I am doing a good job. They tell me I am the first Japanese-looking American to visit their village. "This is a day in our history," someone says. "You should write your name somewhere and put the date!" Smile and stay with the rhythm, smile, and get back in step as someone else cuts in...

Eventually, I end up holding Helda so her mother can dance. It took me 24 hours to gain her confidence, but now she is sleeping soundly on my shoulder.

Pictures, pictures and more pictures. Men are asking for pictures now too (in Kurdish culture this would be shameful, but men and women interact differently among Assyrians. In Kurdish dancing, men and women don't stand next to each other, but among Assyrians they can intermingle. At one point in the party, there was actually slow dancing, waltzing, and Western "pop" dancing - this is the part where I managed to be holding Helda). N tells me that there is a Facebook page for their village and my pictures will probably be all over it. I remember now what it is that I don't like about parties. Though they are fun at first and the preparation is always exciting, there is always a mess afterwards. I wonder what kind of "mess" I will have to clean up this time.

We get home around 1am and I am exhausted. It was a fun night and I certainly enjoy their folk dancing. Just like at home, we sit down and tell "mom" everything about the evening. She enjoys hearing how much I was made over and tells me, "shtrana, shtrana."

Friday, September 14th:
"Mom" and I are the first ones up again. I join her on the porch and we share the view together. I point to God's creation and say, "shtrana, shtrana." She nods in agreement. Some time to pray and read before the house starts to become active - praying for opportunity to talk to N about the g___ and see how much she understands. N's sister and one of the families left last night after the party. And now N's brother and his wife are preparing to leave as well.

We stay in our house clothes for most of the day. N and I have a good conversation in the kitchen, an answer to prayer. It begins when I tell her that not all Americans are Christian. This comes as a surprise to her. I explain that they are looking for a savior from their circumstances, a god that will serve their desires. We talk about true faith, which stands apart from "being a good person." She mentions faith and love, and I bring up the third trait mentioned in the verse - hope. A hope that doesn't exist in moving to a better place, but a hope in eternal life. She opens up about her father's death and tells me that she believes that God allows all things to happen for a purpose, even when we don't understand. It is a profitable conversation that continues in parts throughout the day.

Around 4pm, N's brother goes into the village to buy ice cream. We eat it on the porch while enjoying the view.

After our evening chai, and when it is cooler, we prepare to go out for the evening. On our way to N's best friend's house (the next one down the road), she tells me that J was adopted. This is a shock as I've never heard of anyone who has been adopted here! Her mother could not have children, so her mother's sister told her that she could have her months-old baby. N told me that this was very uncommon, even between relatives. J did not find out until later, but realized that God had intended it for the best. She has met her aunt and uncle (who currently live in Sweden) and there is no connection between them - her parents are the ones who raised her. They are a very happy family; she, her husband, and their little daughter live with her parents in the village and they share another house in Duhok.

Me, J, and her baby, Mimi (short for Maryam)

Me, Mimi, and J's husband

We visited for a little while. J's father used to be an English professor, so he shared a funny story with me in English. Last night, at the party, the leg of his chair broke and he fell right in the middle of the room! We couldn't stop laughing as he recounted how all at once he was in the air and just as suddenly on the floor! All of us walked to N's house, where J's mother stayed with N's mother - they are best friends. We walked on to the hang-out at the end of the street. J and her husband had to go back and change Mimi's diaper, so N and I walked up and down on the road waiting for them to arrive. Over chips and soda, we visited in English (J's husband is studying English on his own, so he was happy for the practice). After a little while, we moved to another lean-to where they were folk dancing. The music was extremely loud and I am still partially deaf. We met up with some of N's other friends and joined in the dancing.

O, S (they are getting married and moving to Canada where her family lives), me, and N

It was so cold, I had to borrow a jacket from N! Enjoyed every minute of it as I know I won't be wearing a jacket in Duhok for a long time!

More attention and pictures ... by the end of the evening I was ready for the publicity to end. I had a fun time though with N and her friends. J and her family have invited me to their house in Duhok sometime, and it would be nice to see them again.

Saturday, September 15th (part one):
Didn't go to bed until 3am! Our ride arrived at 8am, so we were up by 7 to get ready. It was a beautiful drive home (though a little crowded with three of us in the back seat). It was dark when we drove through the first time. I was amazed by the beauty of the mountains and the Kabul river flowing between them.

During my three days in Anonayh, I picked up a lot (everything is relative...) of Assyrian. N told me I should come for the three months of summer and then I will be fluent! :) One last picture that made me happy and will remain as a fond memory: hand-washed clothes hanging on the line in the morning sun.