What does Vic do while you are away?



I have often thought that there should be a song written for the lovers, who stay behind,  of peacemakers who go away for periods of time. There are many written for the loves of soldiers who go off to war, but I have never heard one for peacemakers. A song-writer friend of mine says that it is on his idea list, but he has a long list!! (Any songwriters out there among my readers?)

When people ask me this question I never really know from what angle they are asking. Are they questioning our sanity, fidelity,or his ability to cook for himself?  Or are they just not able to picture that he can have a life without me? Afer all, he still continues to work at the Mennonite Church Canada offices from 8 am to 6 pm (including the commute) for 5 days in the week.

While I am in Iraqi Kurdistan we Skype every 2-3 days over his lunch hour (we have a 8-9 hours time difference). I can't imagine having this seperation without Skype, although I have heard of long distance relationships back in the "olden days" based on snail mail letters and a twice monthly phone calls.

When he comes home from work he cooks supper and then often relaxes in front of a movie. When I had my first stint in 2011 he set a goal of  writing a lot of movie reviews for movies that he owns and had never watched. He loves writing movie reviews for his blog (www.thiessenbros.blogspot.com) as well as for an internet site and the Mennonite Church Canada magazine.

One of the reasons that we live in Winnipeg is to be closer to his mother and two elderly aunts. So Vic frequently goes to visit them (and they love to feed him too). Our youngest daughter, Katrina and her husband live in the city so he spend time with them too.

Other things that keep him busy are building big jigsaw puzzles, right now it is a 6,000 peice one. And he has many books in our personal library that he wants to read in the next 30 years. And this does not include visits with friends, our small group from Hope Mennonite, other church activities etc.

These are SOME of the things that "Vic does while I am away". It is hard to part and say goodbye, knowing that it will be 3+ months before we can physically touch. But I don't think that he pines away ("My bonny lies over the ocean, My bonny lies over the sea, My bonny lies over the ocean, Oh bring back my bonny to me [to my Kurdish readers, this is an old folk song. A bonny is another word for loved one].

I am so privileged to have a husband who is very supportive of me and the work that I do in Iraqi Kurdistan. He is amazing.

 

Vic and I on our wedding day, 4 August, 1979

Kurdish Supper in suburban Winnipeg

Two days ago on Wednesday, 22 August 21 MacAulay Place saw the 3rd annual CPT Fundraiser Kurdish Supper. Thirty-seven people came to sit on our lawn in the back yard. They ate lots and many said that they loved it. Some were repeaters from last year, others were new.

So I will post some photos of the preparation, and of the supper itself.

 

Last year I worked with a Kurdish woman to learn to make this bread, so this year I did it all by myself. The red bottle cap is to give perspective on the size.

 

 

Frying the luqme (fried balls of dough which are then soaked in sugar syrup)

 

Two of my neighbours, Charlotte and Elaine came to help roll the dolma/yaprax and other helpful tasks.

 

Once the people were here we discovered that the rice was a disaster. It was mushy and hard and crunchy. So while waited for it to cook I told everyone about CPT.

 

Someone asked about Kurdish life so I brought out Katrina's dress to show them.

 

Final mixing and getting ready to serve.

 

Vic, in the background, my wonderful support for pre and post cleaning, mosquito killing and babysitting the rice.

 

.Dolma- grape leave wrapped around rice (in Kurdish it is yaprax), kasi (a apricot sauce to go over rice), Fasuli (beans in tomato sauce with and without chicken)

Nan (bread) and mastaw (yogurt diluted with water and mint drink)

 

 

   

This little girl loved the fasuli.



 

It was so great to have kids in my yard.

 

 

 

For desert we had kuliche (date and nut filled cookies) and luqme (fried dough balls) and Kurdish tea.

 

 

It was a lovely evening, the day was warm and sunny, marvelous people came, and the mosquitoes stayed away until dusk (when they came for their supper). And money was raised to support CPT's work in Iraqi Kurdistan.

Thoughts on Morning Coffee

Our small church here in Winnipeg, Hope Mennonite, kind of dissipates a little during the wonderful hot, sunny summer months. So in June a list goes around asking for people to sign up to lead our time together on Sunday mornings. With some persuasion (and co-ercion and nice smiles) I convinced Vic to sign up with me for this Sunday, 19 August.

However, then we had to think about some interesting theme to present. Normal sermons etc usually do not happen on these summer Sundays.

The topic came to me as we were watching a play three weeks ago. Winnipeg has North America's second largest Fringe Festival. This is 10 days of around 150 plays (mostly an hour or less in length). We saw  15 plays during those days. One of our earlier plays was one called "Morning Coffee". We decided to see it because there were some Mennonite actors in it and we do like to support Vic's cultural comrades!!

 The two actors portrayed a young couple who had been together for 5 years. Obviously things have been going downhill for awhile but during the hour of the play things start off bad and get progressively worse. We are voyeurs into their fight which uses every bad trick that communication manuals tell you absolutely not to do.  It begins with her entering the bathroom that he has just left and running out holding her nose and telling him just how rotten he smells and how he has always smelt that bad. The blame and miscommunication escalated until I cringed at the dirt they brought up on each other. But just as I thought that this might end in violence they took a minute to pause. In the last line of the play they showed a tiny bit of vulnerability and one said,” I am afraid”  and the other replied ,”I am afraid too”. At that moment their true feeling was expressed and you are left with the idea that maybe they would be able to really talk to each other.

It reminded me of the Nonviolent Communication that I had learned while doing the month long CPT training in 2010. Surely this would be a good topic to bring up in a church service. Surely there are some verses in the Bible that might lead to thinking about how we communicate. Sure enough, there are and one example is Proverbs 12:18-" Rash words are like sword thrusts, but the tongue of the wise brings forth healing".  Vic and I used the book,  Nonviolent Communication: A Language of Life (Marshall B. Rosenberg, Ph.D.) as a resource and it was sure good to go through it again. This way of speaking is hard work and takes a lot of practise. It sure is so much easier in the heat of the moment and in frustration to say,"You are a bunch of slobs.  Why don't you ever clean up after yourselves"!!! But those kind of accusations just seem to rouse up anger and do not really accomplish much.

Interestingly enough we had to use this kind of communication on our way to church. We don't argue very often but one point of problem for us is that Vic was trained by his bus driver Dad to talk loudly at other drivers, traffic lights and other things during the whole drive. I am a person who takes what the road throws at me as part of the experience of being in a car. So, I was talking about some point of the presentation we were going to make when he had to exclaim about something a traffic light had just done (turned red). I got mad!! But, it did help to slow down to think about how to speak together about this in a non judging way. We did discover that we seem to have conflicting needs that will have to be figured out. He needs to exclaim at the drivers and lights in order to make the ride more exciting and to ease some of the tension of driving. I need to have a calm ride without loud exclamation!!. It sure was a lot easier when we lived in London, UK without a car.!!!

For those of you who do not know much about nonviolent communication,  there is a formula to help you learn how to speak and communicate differently. Then, hopefully, with practise, it will become an easy thing to remember.

So, the formula is "When I (see, hear, smell).... I feel..... because I need...... . Would you be willing to......

This provides an opportunity to work on ways to meet both person's needs, not a way of forcing the other person to change.

So, our time together as a church this morning was fun. Many people came up to us and thanked us for what we had done. And, the process of preparing it had reminded me that I need to think about this way of communicating a whole lot more.

“Compassion is not religious business, it is

human business, it is not luxury, it is essential

for our own peace and mental stability,

it is essential for human survival.”

- The Dalai Lama -



A very belated post about a very scary taxi ride.

This episode from my life in Iraqi Kurdistan happened several months back in April. I felt quite traumatized but also embarrased so first I only wrote Lukasz about it. Then I decided that I really should tell my family. Recently I have read a couple of friend's blog posts about crazy  adventures they have had, so today I post this.

  Lukasz (who has more knowledge about life in Silmani and much more Kurdish) left for  a three week holiday in the USA  leaving Pat and I alone for one day. This is what happened on
Tuesday early morning. I was going alone to pick up our team mate Garland from the airport because our regular, trustworthy  taxi driver  was coming and all would go smoothly.. I was pretty sure that Mohammed had phoned S.  (because S. speaks little English) on Monday to schedule the pickup
 and all was set. UNTIL 1:45 am when he was 15 minutes late (which is very unusual,). So I knew he was not coming. I was freaking out because when I tried to phone M  he did not answer either of his phones, so I assumed he had turned them off. Although I was pretty sure he had phoned S., I was not 100 % sure so could not imagine trying to phone S with my limited Kurdish to try to explain
why I was calling  at 1:30 am (if M had not really called).  I was thinking.."why today, when L is not here, why, why. what in the hell am I going to do. No contact with Garland, Don't know if he has dinars etc etc.

Then as I stood on the street praying for S. to show up and listening intently for any sign of a car, another taxi drove up. I was so relieved when he said he would take me to the airport. I ran back
to the house, closed the door and got into the back seat. Just after he stopped at the closed shop around the corner and took out a rifle and hid it under the covering over the fruit and vegetables that I began to realize how stupid this situation was. ( He did this  because they often search cars at the checkpoint on entering the airport area). I realized that I should have woken Pat for advice or at least support,  but instead  I was there in the taxi with barely enough Kurdish to say airport, let along discuss returning to the house so I could get Pat. So I decided I should at least phone him, but then realised that I thought that his cell phone  was named CPT white and that was not in my phone. (I found out the next morning that he is not white and I did... but anyway).

We were driving along in this broken down taxi that kept acting like there was something very wrong with it. We were getting close to the u-turn on the highway to turn around for the airport and we were
talking about husband and kids  and the usual chit chat with the Kurdish vocabulary that I know. Suddenly  he starts saying something like "min u to.. Hawree ( you and me...friend),,  Min u to,, bash..(good) " and patting the front seat. I really started freaking out.. My body was shaking with anxiety. So I played the "te negiestim (I don't understand)"card and played dumb. " nazenum  (I don't know) "etc. and praying hard, hoping that someone out there was listening. He still was headed toward the airport though and I saw the sign and we turned..[ Thank you].. And we got to the waiting place. (The waiting room to pick up arrivals is a short bus ride away from the airport. This is to discourage anyone getting close to the airport if they have bad intentions)  Of course, then I tried to exlain to him that I was meeting a friend coming from Istanbul and I needed him to wait.(There are few taxis to hail at the best of times at the airport, let alone at 2:30 am) Thank God again, one security man spoke English and I asked him to explain and ask. The driver  said he would wait.

This is not the taxi I was in but it looks just like it. These are the older ones, the newer ones are all white.

Of course, when I asked the Englishspeaker if the plane was on time and he said yes, he obviously did not understand what I was asking, because the 1:45 flight arrived around 3 am and Garland was not there until around 4:15. But the guy waited, along with a whole room of Kurdish (and Arabic ) people.

 I did get a lot of observing done during that time as I tried to settle my traumatized soul that was still berating my stupidity.. What a culture of waiting without complaint , I love it. They were all waiting for the buses from the airport. No one announced that the plane was late and there were no signs to report on the expected time. So a murmer would go through the room-"the bus, the bus" and in one movement the mass of people moved to the door. Then you would hear another murmer, "it's only a car" and they would move en mass back to their seats. This happened over and over again without huge groans or complaints. Kids fell asleep in parents laps and we all waited.

Anyway,the buses did finally begin to arrive and when Garland got there the guy drove us home with no more talk of being friends. He asked for 25,000 ID. for his trouble. (an fine price for driving to and from the airport at that time of night let alone waiting for 2 1/2 hours).

This was something we had never discussed as a team; what if S. does not show up?  And the
things that I knew from observing earlier taxi rides (one time when a former team mate went in a  taxi alone someone took the license plate number if case something happened) did not register until it was too late to go back (due to my inadequateKurdish).  I was so, so focused on S. not coming and not having a clue how to get Garland when it was the middle of the night and pouring
rain and knowing that the airport would close after the passengers left, that I forgot to take care for myself.

Thank God, the Creator, Allah or whomever (the somewhat human
decency of the eccentric taxi driver who may have just been joking or just
testing the water or something).

We learned the next day that S. had forgotten. He never forgets, but he did that night.

Lessons learned and will be remembered.

Joyous in the right to have Pride

I have noot been very reliable in posting blog posts since I came home. It seems that I have given prioity to other things such as buying paint and scraping the backyard fence to prepare for a paint job and buying roofing shingles and learning how to put them on  for our shed so that the roof boards will not rot and planting a garden and keeping it watered because we have not had much rain the in the last few weeks and many other sundry things. But on 3 June I was a part of an event that I want to share with you.

An author, Andrew Marin, in the USA has written a book called "Love is an Orientation: Elevating the Conversation With the Gay Community". People have read its message and begun a campaign called "I'm sorry" http://www.themarinfoundation.org/imsorry/ It calls for those who consider themselves Christian to apologize for the way that "we as Christians have harmed the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual,Transgender (LGBT)  community". The movement asks those who consider themselves Christian, no matter where they stand in their beliefs about the theology or morality to acknowledge that we are ALL children of God that have the right to be treated with dignity and compassion.

We are here to apologize for the ways that we as Christians have harmed the LGBT community

...for hiding behind religion when really I was just scared

...I have looked down on you instead of honouring your humanity.

...for not listening

...I've chosen comfort instead of stepping out boldly in love

(Taken from a banner from the Chicago Pride Parade)

I want to share with you some of the photos from that afternoon. Some were taken by my friend Brad Langendoen who has spent several months as an intern on the Iraqi Kurdistan team.

Brad L. with his trusty camera

Some of us from Hope Mennonite joined the Little Flowers Comunity at the Winnipeg Pride Parade 2012 [Brad]

Two of the participants in the parade

United Church of Canada representatives in the parade

Mona from Hope Mennonite and her son Elias (who is in a carrying pouch in front of Josiah). [Brad ]

Elias is greeted by a parade participant [Brad]

The man who made the sign I'm carrying left so I took it. [Brad]

I was pleased to receive a hug [Brad]

LOVE IS AN ORIENTATION

*I commit to listening to the stories of others and seeking to understand

*We will strive to make things better for the LGT community

*We are here to join the celebrations and affirm God's love for everybody.

Waiting for my soul to catch up

Last week I spoke with Lisa Martens who was a part of CPT Iraq at the beginning of the Iraq War when the CPT house and office were still  in Baghdad. I told her about the time it has taken me to re-adjust to being in Winnipeg, of staying cocooned in my house for the first two weeks. I spoke of my discomfort at the opulence of our huge grocery stores and large shopping malls. As I walked through them I felt my heart being squeezed and I desperately wanted to be back in Rizgari Taza again buying vegetables and fruit from the outdoor stands just around the corner. I wanted to be recognized by the salespersons and maybe helped with my Kurdish.

Lisa knew the feeling of being lost in her own home town. I felt she remembered exactly what I was speaking about. Then she told me a story that someone had told her. She said that it takes as long as the time it would take to ride a horse from where you were (Iraq) to where you are going (Winnipeg) for your soul to catch up with your head and body. I don't really know how long it would take to ride a horse even if the ocean was not there. But this was very comforting to me. I was not weak or crazy with the sad, lost feelings I had been having. This was something others had experienced.

Since then I had a facebook dialogue with a couple of other CPTers. They too say that coming home is far, far harder then going out to our CPT work. Maybe it is because we expect to feel comfortable with a place where we have lived for many years and that we think we know how things work there. But we don't anymore and there are a lot of things that we don't like anymore.

So, 3 weeks into being back in Canada I feel mostly OK. I am so happy being here with my husband, Vic and I get to see my youngest daughter occasionally. I have planted my vegetable garden and I think that I have fenced it enough that the rabbits that live under my shed won't feast on the lettuce. But I also relish hearing news from my team and from English news sites in Iraqi Kurdistan. And I am glad to have received the news of my tickets for my next time in Sulaimani.

Two pictures of Vic and I. In a couple of months we will have been married for 33 years.

S

Disrupted lives- new report and excellent new's report

The current CPT team in Sulaimani,  just released a report about the bombing and shelling of villagers in the Pishdar region of Iraq Kurdistan. Pishdar is the region which includes the village of Sunneh ( where we have been visiting the school ). I was there in November when team mates Marcus and Ramyar began the work on this report. I have watched it morph to  become better and more polished until finally on last Thursday it was released in a press conference at the Cultural Cafe in Sulaimani. You may think that it is too long for you to read, but I suggest at least opening it up and scanning it and talking a look at the photos.

Photos from the press conference held at the Cultural Cafe on Thursday, 30 May in Sulaimani, Iraqi Kurdistan. (Photos taken by Pat Thompson and an unknown journalist).
It was released in two language
 English:
http://www.cpt.org/files/iraq/Disrupted-Lives-Cross-border-attacks-2011-2012.pdf

Kurdish:
http://www.cpt.org/files/iraq/CPT-Jyaneki-Shewenraw-2012.pdf

Also today I watched a very good newscast about the shelling of villages. .HDNet's "World Report" correspondent Willem Marx travels to the mountainous border of Iraq and Iran, where Kurdish rebels are attacking the Iranian military, and in response Iran is shelling Iraqi territory, killing Kurdish civilians and forcing thousands of villagers from their homes.http://vimeo.com/13523382
It is 1/2 hour long but if you have interest in this it is quite worth it.

I am still quite new to this technology stuff and it appears that I can not put the video here because it is not on You tube. I hope that this works for you.