First Impressions

Although the move and settling-in are challenges are stressful, we are all excited and feeling positive about our choice to make a life here. The climate and nature are gorgeous, the people friendly (both international and local), the aid scene apparently energized and growing, and the surrounding area has a lot to explore.

I felt giddy even at the Johannesburg airport. It was much more developed than Amman or Doha’s airports: lots of stores with safari camping gear and the usual African souvenirs: carved wooden masks, statues of elephants and rhinos, zebra skins, clothes with tribal and animal prints, pith helmets and khaki vests with countless pockets. This compared to Amman/Doha with tiny gold painted glass tea sets, elegantly embroidered head scarves and black floor length robes, and framed golden Arabic calligraphy of scripture from the Quran. The airport was of the high-ceiling, glass and steel frame enclosed design, and restaurants jutted out into the parking lots of 747s. We were probably more excited by the real English breakfast with delicious bacon (hello pork!). Instead of the usual young guy serving us in the restaurant, a middle-aged local woman waited on us. Seeing women in areas of work that I haven’t seen them in for the last 5 years in the Muslim world has been surprisingly refreshing. It makes me feel more relaxed to see women drivers, women bagging groceries, women waitresses and hotel managers. Because that used to be me—I used to work jobs that my many of my Jordanian and Sudanese friends could only imagine very down-and-out women doing. Yet seeing these women reminds me that I used to feel like I could do anything, and that is a freedom worth having. While there are advantages to the dignity, respect and honor that are important in Arab cultures, there are also advantages to just be taken for yourself and to be free to make something of yourself without worrying about how it might have a negative impact on one’s own (or one’s family’s) reputation.

Granted, these are first impressions. Still, I always remember vividly those first moments upon arriving somewhere. How can I forget that I had to be careful not to shake hands with the guy who picked us up at the airport in Jordan because despite his being a really nice guy who is well educated and fluent in four languages, he’s a devout Muslim who practices “not touching women.” In that first drive into town I was highly irritated that I had to monitor my behavior and that I had to worry when I accidentally grabbed his arm to stop him from giving something to the kids. He respects me, but he will be defiled by shaking my hand? After a while, one gets to sort of understanding these things. In a way, he’s showing me respect. It’s the same reason why a (male) cashier will put the change on the counter instead of in a woman’s hand. Same goes for eye contact. That stuff I didn’t like getting used to. Like thinking twice about a man making eye contact with me… What kind of woman did he think I was? Another loose Western woman?

In Harare, the sky was overcast when we arrived but the clouds were far away. I sensed the altitude from the depth of the sky and lightness of air. While David checked into the Bronte’ hotel, the kids and I explored the garden. There was a small fish pond in the middle of a green lawn. Around the perimeter were countless varieties of plants and trees. After years of desert and rock, the diversity of the nature was overwhelming – leaves of all sizes, shapes, colors and textures, sticking out in every direction. I felt like I was in a Matise (?). The hotel was white with dark wooden door and window frames. The rooms were off open air brick passageways that link to the garden patios under the huge jarcanda and cactus trees. Dozens of the locally made statues dot the gardens. There’s one of a mother swinging her daughter playfully that’s on our way to the room that Eliza likes.

...more later