Today is Wednesday

For what seems to be the eighth day in a row, we are locked down because of other people’s deciding that their right to free speech is more important than anything else. I wish people would understand that free speech is not always without consequence. We have had no trouble in our camp, but it is better to be safe than sorry, so I sat last night and watched Invictus, with Matt Damon and Morgan Freeman, which is the story of South Africa’s winning the Rugby World Cup after Nelson Mandela had been elected president. He believed that the entire country, black and white alike, would unite behind a winning team – and the end of the movie showed that Mandela was right.

I have to admit that while I am not really afraid, I have become acutely aware that the idea of safety is precious, and something that we in the Midwest generally take for granted. Even when the Twin Towers fell, we in the rural Midwest were somewhat removed, as our generally homogenous surroundings gave, and continue to give, us the feeling of safety. Here, a Kevlar vest has the same effect. And both are illusory.

I have had some good days at work, writing and editing reports and meeting with all the staff to plan our next project. We have two classes going right now, one of which ends tomorrow. Assuming we will not be locked down tomorrow, we will go to graduation. I am really looking forward to that. Hasat has been teaching, and I like to see him with his students. He is a very earnest teacher. Speaking of Hasat, he questioned me as to why I didn’t use his real name. I told him that writers often use false names so that their characters’ identities will be kept secret. He told me that he had told his friends that I was going to write about him, and he wanted them to know who he was!

Life is settling in here, and I looked at the calendar today to find that I have been gone from Sedalia for one month today. One month down, eleven to go. Betsy Wiley has sent me messages reminding me of how lucky I am to have technology at my disposal. A message is transmitted from her to me in fractions of a second. I can talk via Skype and hear Max’s voice instantly. Emily and I text a conversation several times a day. Cindy and I do yoga together via her recording on Facebook. Without these modern-day technological miracles upon which we have come to not only rely, but also to take for granted, I think I would be home by now. I like what I am doing, and I hope that I have a chance to make a difference, but being in a completely foreign environment takes a lot of stamina and determination. I cannot imagine what it would be like to emigrate to a foreign country with no means of support – either emotional or physical.

I met today with Rob, who used to have my job and now has a different job. He has been in Afghanistan for four years, and looks to be working here for maybe two more. He seems like a good sort, and I am inclined to like him because Esman does. In fact, when we found out he was coming to see us, Esman got busy and cleaned the office. My desk is pretty clean – of course it is because I haven’t been here for very long – but Esman’s desk has stuff all over it, and the stuff on the desk is dusty because dust is everywhere. By the time I got back from lunch, Esman’s desk was spic and span, and I think he even cleaned the bathroom.

I told him there is nothing better than seeing a man with cleaning implements in his hands – unless it is seeing a man working in the kitchen. I then told him that Max and I clean the house together and cook together, and that Max does the laundry and ironing. He looked at me in surprise and told me that I probably wouldn’t find any men in Afghanistan who would do those things. I told him that not many men in America would, either. I just happened to find the right one.

He confided in me that he does some cleaning at his house because he likes it to be tidy, and that he washes his car. When his wife asks to help, he tells her not to, because he wants it done right; I responded by telling him that is how she gets out of doing it – just like most men get out of whatever household chores they don’t want to do. They first volunteer to do it, then do it incorrectly, and then know that they will never have to do it again. He thought that was hilarious.

While we were waiting for Rob, Esman told me about being Rob’s interpreter a few years ago on a trip to a place that I will never go because it is in the middle of nowhere. And they got there via helicopter. Simply being here is testing my bravery – and I don’t need a further test that would require flying around all these mountains in a helicopter, thank you. If I ever change my mind, I will let you know, but if I were you, I wouldn’t count on it.

Well, I will finish for tonight. Before I sign off, though, I want to give a plug to my friend Mark Morris, who has co-authored a six-part story in the Kansas City Star – Killer Love. This is a soap opera that you won’t want to miss. All the segments through number four are on line at www.kansascity.com, and I can hardly wait to read number five tomorrow. I get them before you because they are posted a little after I get to work, so when I take a hot tea break mid-morning, I get my fix. I was hooked after the first two paragraphs!

I ask that if you are the praying kind, please say prayers for common sense to rule and tempers to cool here in this part of the world. Also pray for understanding for us all so that we can find a bridge for the chasm that divides us, and pray for the safety of those who choose not to participate in the rampant, reckless, and destructive violence that seems so attractive to others. And I will sleep well again tonight, remembering that the Lord is my shepherd . . .