The Surprise...
Well, the surprises are continuing. Our boss asked Zahir to bring me in after dinner Sunday. I was hoping they found a way I could go with Zahir to Iran. Turns out they want me far away from that one. Zahir and I are forbidden from even talking to each other about it.
NOPE!!! There is a
problem with another project. The engineering team wants me to return
to Ukraine. Apparently Math-Boy was a hit with the Kiev team. I would be accompanied at all
times by Zahir's friend and his boy David.Zahir was NOT happy with that surprise. He pulled me into his office and made his displeasure known in no uncertain terms. I asked if he trusted me. He covered my heart with his hand and told me it was not about trusting me, "...you trust others too easily..."
He told me we would talk about it with Baba that night. I knew the result of that conversation already.
I spent the rest of the afternoon with the Ukraine project engineering team. I asked if necessary would a teleconference to the site help.
The Argument...
When is an argument NOT an argument? When only two of the three people involved are actually in it. Especially if that third person is thought of as nothing but a child.
After the opening three paragraphs the language switched from English to Arabic. It was just after Zahir mentioned who my chaperones would be. The occasional, "It is not good, acceptable, proper..." would be dropped in English to "keep me in" the conversation. Five minutes later it was decided I would NOT be going to Ukraine.
Zahir tried to get snuggly later at home. I did not refuse him but he could tell I was NOT interested, and he went to sleep. I laid there stewing, then wallowing in self-pity as I watched him sleep.
The Tears...
I had a melt down. I heard the words of my first therapist, "Chase, wallowing in self-pity is useless, counterproductive, wasteful, and dangerous. You have to talk when things upset you. If you don't, nothing will change..."
It is useless to confront Zahir, I am scrawny. Even after my recent weight gain, I am still just a 44.9 kg mouse compared to his 124 kg mountain of muscle. It is kinda like sleeping on a bouncy house. I ranted on a cyber-friends page. It was good getting my words out of me. I quickly realized:
- It was wrong of me to post MY crap on my friend's wall.
- It was wrong of me NOT to communicate with Z that I was hurting.
- Not communicating would get me nowhere.
- We had a fight tonight. The irony is he doesn't think we had one. Zahir made his decision and I am to just live with it. He leaves for Tehran in a couple hours.
- Our boss wants me to go back to Ukraine. The project there is in peril and the structural team asked for me specifically. Math-boy made an impact on the Ukrainian build team.
- Our boss made a hundred assurances that I would be chaperoned at all times. Zahir forbids it and his Baba (Bedu for daddy) agrees. I love him so much, but when he talks about my future I don't see me working. They didn't even pretend to listen to me.
- Why bother studying to be an engineer if I am just gonna be a play-thing. I don't know what to do. I want him, I love him, but I want more. The only one here who is acknowledging I have a brain is our creepy boss.
- Maybe I should just go back to Miami and finish my degree at USF online. I can online study just as well there as here. God I don't know what to do. I have to wake him up in a half hour and I don't want to argue with him it is emotionally painful. Is it wrong to want everything?
There is an old Bedu tradition I learned last winter when we went to Wadi Rum. Baba taught me the story of using coffee to make peace. The Bedu have a tradition for everything, several for building peace alone. While Zahir was in the shower, I was brewing coffee the old-fashioned way. I did take one shortcut, I had to use pre-roasted beans.
You dump the roasted beans into a special vessel, Zahir's mihbash is made of bronze or brass. Then you take a pestle and grind/pound them into a powder. You take the crushed beans and boil them. I used his old dahlleh for that. Then you ground the cardamom and add it to the boiling coffee. The host then uses the cardamom oiled pestle to wipe his mustache, to give him the scent of hospitality. My lack of facial hair caused me to modify that. Zahir thought it was cute when I wiped his mustache with it.
The host then serves three thimble sized cups of coffee. The first is in honor of the guest to indicate hospitality. The second is in honor of the mood to indicate a relaxed atmosphere. The third is in honor of the sword to show that any animosity has evaporated. Whatever the outcome I would abide. Then and only then does discussion begin.
The coffee ritual to a Bedu can be a matter of life and death. Especially if a fourth cup is poured and declared a blood cup.
I asked if he read my comment. He stroked my cheek and said yes he did. I apologized for overstepping my place. But asked did he understand why?
Long story short, it turned out he didn't have a problem with me going to Ukraine. He had issue with the chaperone the Boss chose. It would have been nice if he told me that yesterday. I held my tongue, if we ever met you know how hard that is for me when I get my back up.
Apparently there was a reason why David was not Zahir's favorite choice to be a friend of mine. Before David became Z's friend's boy he was Zahir's boy. He did not trust either of them alone with me. Would you want your current and one of your exes becoming friends?
He told me if he could arrange a different chaperone, he would allow me to go. He also told me he wanted me to be anything I wanted to be. So long as I was in his life.
Too much drama to have at 2:45 in the morning. The coffee wasn't bad. It kept me awake just long enough to feed the dogs.
The Compromise...
I took a four hour nap and started moving some things to my "ROOM" in the big house. The house we are in is serving it's original purpose a home for an unwed son. The big house is huge... I got lost on the tour with his boss. Here in Jordan a man can have up to four wives this is not the norm, and that number does NOT include ex-wives.
The big house includes four master suites and a guest suite, in addition to the other bedrooms. BIG families are encouraged. My room when Zahir is away is the master suite closest to the pool and courtyard. They want it easy for me to care for the dogs.
After dinner I got a call from Zahir telling me he arrived. He told me of his discussion with Baba and our boss during his layover. The family was going to split the cost of a chaperone (bodyguard) to go with me to Kiev. I offered to pay for the family's half. That was met with laughter.
The man works for Zahir's youngest older brother's security company and I met him at supper. He is Circassian and was once on the King's security detail. He smiled and said, "...now I babysit pop stars." After dinner we went into the courtyard and Betey (Batay) gave me instruction. I will be VERY safe. Wednesday we fly to Kiev.
Zahir had left gifts for me in the suite, hooded footie pajamas that looked like a Spider-man costume. He told me to pack them for the trip, "...your body is for me to enjoy..." He has this thing about covering the nape of my neck, as well as my arms and legs. The temp today was 32°C (that is 90° back home). As folks in Arizona would say, "It is a dry heat." B.S. 💩 it is too hot for long clothes, but at least I am not getting sun burnt.
Chase
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