I Messed Up

  While the brothers were out yesterday one of Zahir's cousins came by the base-camp. Baba informed me he was a member of the National Police. I told him I was once part of our Police Department's Explorer Program back in Florida. When he said he was going out for some target practice. I asked if I could tag along. When he asked if I shoot, I said I was very weapons proficient. Baba's brother went with us, so I saw no problem. Apparently there was, Zahir was not happy when he returned and I was not there.

  I missed the first two cans but hit the rest. I was bracing for a recoil that never came. Once I got used to his Beretta 9 mm I didn't miss a single target. I was trained on and prefer a Glock 45. The two men returned to Camp with me, without incident, praising my eye and hand.

  On the one hand I did finally get the alone time I sought with Zahir. Unfortunately it was not the kind I wanted. He yelled at me for being disloyal. I told him I have eyes for no other.  He told me he understands me however  others have eyes for me. Then he went on to say it was not my place to prepare to defend the family. "You are only a gentle boy."

  I am not to leave Baba's side for the remainder of the trip. He has gotten so used to me being his quiet mouse, he forgets that I was once something more. This week is going to drag, but I will obey. 

Surprise! We have cell phone coverage...

  Holy cow, we have cell phone coverage this year! I guess tourism can be a good thing. 21st century tourists don't like to unplug. Our base camp is close enough to hit a tower. If I'm allowed to accompany the men into Wadi Rum, I will lose cell service, but it would be worth it.

  We arrived on site last night just in time for the women to start setting up their side of the tent. It's kind of weird for me, I'm used to hanging out with Mama and helping her with the food prep. For the next two weeks I won't be doing that. I'm hanging with the men. When they're out working the dogs and the birds, I'm staying with Baba and his brother.

  Zahir's cousin came running up to me to show me our experiment was still working. Last year he and I were talking about permaculture. I told him how I built an earthen berm which produced food 12 months out of the year without using fertilizer. Of course there was a huge difference, when I did that I was in Florida. Florida is a swamp, a very very wet swamp. Here water is precious and must be trucked in.

  By the end of the first week last year we decided to attempt a test berm. He has been irrigating it using the gray water leftover from cooking and general washing. The only place that died off were the ends of the berms. By the end of the day today we came up with the idea of planting indigenous scrub to cap the berm and seal in the moisture. In addition to sealing in the moisture its roots should increase the biomass. Any dead material could then be used to build additional berms.

  It was kind of neat seeing something go from theory to fact. Gardening in the desert who knew? Khalid told me that the hardest thing was keeping the goats away from the vegetables.

  The day is just beginning and the men are starting to stir. It is so weird sleeping so far apart from Zahir. Normally I cuddle under his arm. I don't think anyone is confused about our relationship. It's the difference between that is assumed, and that which is known. I hope we can have some private time today.

 

  I got a good question in my email today. How do you charge your electronic devices? The family does a primitive camp. Only that which you carry in is used. 

  Zahir and I have several solar powered battery backups for our little devices. To recharge the larger stuff we use a couple of fold-able arrays. It's one of my chores to keep everything charged.

Wildtech 21 watt fold-able array

  Today the rest of base camp will be set up so the men can go out and hunt. With luck we will have fresh rabbit (sorry hare.)

  The men are up for first prayer so I'm going to sign off at this point. I will update as I can.

***
  Post breakfast update: Khalid and I both share a passion for the works of Geoff Lawton. Googling his name is worth the read. He is the biologist who brought a viable self-sustaining permaculture garden to the salt flat southwest of Amman

Chase

AFK Hunting...

  I will likely be AFK - Away From Keyboard for two weeks. I am safe.

I am going "hunting" with Zahir's family. Internet is spotty there. Two weeks semi unplugged, I am looking forward to it.

   I have downloaded a couple stories from the cloud to my tablet to work on. I am interested to see if a project I left behind last year is working. 

  FYI: My psycho dog "IS" coming with me for protection when the men are away. He and his saluki "cousins" get along, but because they are clean and he is not he cannot participate in the hunt. 

  Dogs are generally seen as unclean, salukis are the exception. Bedouin men hold them in such high esteem they honor the animal calling them al hurr, "the noble one".

  There is a legend that the Prophet himself owned a saluki that he used for hunting. The animal is mention in the holy Quran, in which the training of hounds for hunting is encouraged, as long as it is done so in a manner directed by Allah.

 Back in a couple weeks... Unless Z takes me on a "supply" run.

Part Two Of Frozen Is Up

  My heart wasn't in it but I had to finish it. I started Frozen and Chosen when I still had hope of a fairy-tale reunion with my Mom. By the time I was 90% into the re-write of "Part II" I discovered the truth.  With my inspiration gone I almost abandon the work entirely. I still feel I rushed it, but people were asking for a follow up. I couldn't leave it almost done.

Protect The Baby...

  Wednesday started so well. I started the day waking up from a wonderful dream in the arms of a wonderful man. By the time Wednesday ended myself and the family were in full "protect the baby" crisis mode. All five of the brothers, the family's attorney and several members of the government gathered.

  I seriously do start the day trying to look forward. If you're constantly looking backwards over your shoulder, you miss out on the opportunities that present themselves. You're also not looking at where you're going, you're gonna find yourself stumbling and falling.

  The day started off waking from a magnificent dream. It was another merman dream... I was a merman and was caught in a fisherman's net. The net had tiny barbs that dug into my flesh. As he began hauling me to shore I began screaming in distress trying to flee but the more I fought the more entangled I became. Soon with the combination of fatigue and blood loss I passed out.  

I awoke in the dream the fisherman was carrying me to market when I heard a man condemn him for what he had done. A fight ensued and my defender hit the fisherman so hard he died. He carried me to his home on the sea putting me into his sheltered lagoon to heal...

  The dream was so real I could taste the sea water... I woke during a passionate interlude to the very strong, sweaty, passionate Zahir. It turned out he thought I was awake the whole time. He spent the next hour apologizing. He thought my RLN issue was acting up. I get a little more "amorous" when I loose my voice. I think it is a control thing.

  Zahir intently listened to my merman dreams smiling the whole time (there may have been a little drool on his part). He used some psychobabble of me being a fish removed from its sea. I told him sometimes a dream is just a dream.

  I received the documents from dad's family. They sent a "settlement" check to sweeten the deal...  Chase's life rule #45: Politics and people in politics suck.

  I composed a cover letter and explained why I wouldn't accept their money. With a stroke of a pen that chapter of my life was over. Baba told me they were not worthy to call me theirs. It wasn't like they were in my life in the first place.

  After dinner we received a visitor. My rapist has filed to appeal his sentences. His legal team is insisting I be present for deposition claiming his actions were not premeditated.

  Stacy once warned me I should sue him for damages in addition to the criminal charges. At the time, I thought that was being petty. Hindsight being what it is, I see if I had cleaned him out, he wouldn't have been able to hire his team of sharks.

  The visiting attorney made a veiled innuendo, that my current "living arrangement" could be made public during deposition. THAT is when Baba stepped in to protect HIS adopted son "Nadir" (my Bedouin name). At the same time Mama started calling her sons. The eldest son arrived in less than five minutes. Zahir and our boss arrived next. Z's other brothers were on scene within fifteen minutes of their Mama's call.


  I was amazed at the calm shown by Baba and his sons. I knew they were angry, but their faces did not betray what they were holding in. I was kept by Baba or his oldest son at all times.

  Our family's attorney explained to his opposite the local laws governing liable. Especially when looked at through the eyes of Bedouin tribal law. Such a release without physical proof would be a blood liable. 

  Baba swore to the attorney I would be present for ALL legal actions to keep this evil man far from the children he preys on. I see a tremendous amount of expensive airfare in my future.

  I do feel sorry that he was injured/attacked in prison, but I am not the reason he is there. His choices/actions put him in the people zoo. Attacking me again was a huge tactical error.

  I am no longer sad. What I am now is angry, very angry. I will NOT live in fear of this asshole any more! Now we see what can be done about it.

Over-share on Google+...

  For those of you who do not follow me on Google Plus, I posted something which has garnered a few emails. Here is what I said.

•   "I have had a few people in my life recently comment about how busy, and driven I am. The two are not the same thing. Busy is the things that fill your time, driven is how you attack and complete those things.

•   I have been thinking 'A LOT' of how short life is. I understand the concept first hand too well. Technically I died at fourteen, for just about three minutes. I think it is part of why I am so driven. Life is a gift. I want (I need) to leave something good behind. 

•   I think HOW we live our lives is more important than just the number of years we are given. Our life is just too short a season to waste time."

  Yes, I did in fact die for almost three whole minutes when I was fourteen. It has been my experience when people hear this they fall into one of two camps;

1.  The what was it like, did you see heaven? 
2.  They expect me to have some arcane knowledge.

  Here is what I know, I don't remember a thing, and I don't think that's a bad thing. Here's why, faith requires us to believe in something beyond ourselves. Something beyond our realm of experience. To come back with something from "the other side" would defeat the purpose of faith.

  Aside from a hell of a lot of pain from being defibrillated, and the pain radiating from my crushed larynx, all I remember is a sense of peace. I cannot explain, it was a depth of peace that I have never experienced in my life. One that I was eager to experience again.

  Have I had a perfect walk since no. Due to the trauma: emotional, physical and sexual,  I attempted to regain that peace I felt, twice at my own hand. It took a great deal of soul-searching to realize if I succeeded then evil would be victorious.

  Just a morning thought as I burn Zahir's eggs. Time for Plan B... for breakfast.

Friday Funday

  We drove down to Aqaba Thursday night to finish something we started months ago, my jump certification. I was so excited I only got a few hours of shut eye. We jumped with a few of his Air Force buddies. They were up late reliving their glory days. I was drowning in testosterone, sexy hot muscled pilot/aircrew stew... Yum!

  Two of them are now national police. I feel sorry for them, they all have the same social media photo. A body in a uniform and something obstructing their faces. They are proud of their job but it exacts a toll. Most of the ones I have met are heavy smokers. They were polite but also stand offish with me. After I went to bed, I think Zahir told them my story and why I liked police officers. They were almost brotherly at breakfast.

  Someone emailed asking if I was heavy enough to jump... Not yet, I have to wear a weight belt. I took my last three student jumps in that damned orange training jumpsuit! It was like wearing a tent.

  It does serve a purpose, it is called a tracking suit. They are normally used for BASE jumping. Yousef uses them to give a student a little more control in the air, and the color insures they are seen in case of trouble. I asked if we could try BASE jumping next. Zahir replied loud and emphatically, NO!

  There was only one dark cloud, a Canadian tourist. Yousef had promised a friend to honor his booking of a couple for a tandem jump. The guy was bitching non-stop about having to be strapped to a dude like an effing codpiece. His girlfriend asked him how often would they have this opportunity in Havelock. The only reason I remembered the name of their town was that wished I had a lock for his mouth.

  He was quiet for a moment, then he noticed me. "Why the fuck does the kid get to jump alone." I could not compete with the wind and engine noise to fire back a reply, I just looked up at Zahir with sadness.

  That is when I discovered one of Z's police friends is a bit of a smart ass, "The boy is windsock. We use him to test the wind-speed for safe descent. We are on our second today, YOU wish to take place?"

  At 10:45AM I earned my skydiving certification!!!

  Yousef pulled a bag out of the plane and gave it to Zahir. Zahir then handed the bag to me he said it was a gift.

  He had a custom free fly suit like his made for me. Mine has grey panels like the one on the left. His is dark charcoal and black. I quickly put it on in the support van for our last jump. I pointed out how it drew attention to my bottom.

  He told me, "A thing of beauty should be framed."

  We are headed north to the dead sea. He booked time at the spa to get me all smooth and us relaxed to start the work week. I love this man.

The New Wednesday...

  Wednesday started off normally, had my meeting with the Shrinky Dink. Something new there, he wants to see me once a month. Unless I have an event.

  After dinner I was enjoying coffee as Hazeem's deaf mute support group gathered. I found out he lost his hearing as a teen. I was "listening" via Hazeem to people discussing the concept of "confederation" with the Palestinians. It is quite clear that Jared Kushner and our President, do not understand the region. Jordanians want an independent Palestine. Not a hybrid government of the two. The concept is as ridiculous as asking Washington DC to share power with Ottawa, Mexico City and jointly govern North America as one nation. The "well you're in the same region" logic does not work.

  For the most part the group was friendly and polite. I had to explain the concept of partially mute. One young man stated either I was or I was not mute. He accused me of complaining about having an occasional inconvenience. Hazeem pointed out the guy's partial hearing loss was no different than my weak voice.

  This is part of the reason why I do not like being part of support groups. Some people just suck. I had a few people who were going to the States for University ask if they could practice their American sign. I guess it was better than being ignored.

  Baba could tell I was not in a good mood after the "support" session. I painted it as me just not fitting in. I didn't want his friend to be shamed. There was just too much culture to overcome. Hazeem suggested I try again.
 

On the way back to the compound he took me to Umayyad Palace. "This place has greeted visitors from around the then known world since the 8th century little one. Not all of those greetings went well. Give things time."
 

Then he took me to a museum located on the hill and showed me some of the Dead Sea Scrolls, I thought Israel had them all. "Just like in your country some of my people have closed minds. Most don't even know these treasures are here. Keep your mind open and your heart gentle."

 On balance a good day...


It's 1:30 in the morning I should get some sleep.

Our Beehive Of Activity...

  It is only eight in the morning and there is so much going on.

  While Zahir is at work, his older brothers are taking down and packing up the family's big black tent. Now fully repaired and ready, it must be packed away for our trip to Wadi Rum. Two of them were grumbling how Zahir always manages to miss this part.  I tried to stand in for Zahir and help with the packing. I was quickly told, "...this was work for men." Translation, "You are frail and weak..."

  Baba took me into the house to help Mama in the big kitchen. BIG party tonight, the people of Jordan know how to celebrate. All but one of the wives will be in one of the kitchens preparing something. I will be working with Mama and Zahir's baby sister on the mansaf. 

  Mama is trusting me with one of the mezze. I am going to try to make moutabel. Moutabel is a dip made of fire roasted and peeled eggplant combined with yoghurt, tahini, garlic and lemon juice.

  The kitchens will be busy all day. The men were sent out to work packing the tent and setting up the garden with a hearty breakfast. As soon as the dishes are clean, the controlled chaos begins. While supper meats marinate, we started preparing dinner. 

  In a few hours the pit will be opened and we shall dine on Zarb. The pit was one of the first things Mama asked for in this house. Some outside looking in would think it is odd for such a modern woman to embrace the old ways. The longer I am here the more I understand; old does not mean obsolete, and new does not automatically mean better.

Oh, Happy Day!!!

My Friday Started With A Voice From The past...

  I got a message from my very first foster mom. She posted something while I slept. A very vigilant Zahir saw it first and deleted it. He then contacted her and gave her my phone number and what time I should be awake. 

  I lost contact with Natalie years ago. She was the nice dispatcher who took me home for my first couple weeks in foster care. One of her colleagues shared a story of a Florida foster child who ended up in Jordan. After reviewing the opening of my blog she realized I was the boy she knew.

  She warned me that I was making a bit too much noise online. She was concerned for me.

  She told me she retired some years ago from Miami-Dade and is now a consultant for APCO. She said I share too much online. "You need to protect yourself over there."

Meet My Friend...

  Baba took me out for dinner. My comfort food is dogs from "Wazzup Dog." Baba's is "Shawarma Reem." It is a family owned chain, but he is fond of the one on second circle. Shawarma is sort of like an Arabic gyro. It is made up of spit roasted and marinated lamb, beef, or chicken meat, a dollop of sauce, pinch of onions, scoop of diced tomatoes, rolled up in a pita... oh and salt, lots and lots of salt. Not exactly heart healthy but so tasty. 

  Baba introduced me to his former student/research assistant as his adopted son Chase, and I learned his name was Nurshah. While we ate in the circle I swear I could hear the guards teeth grinding. Security guys hate open spaces. 

  The joy of eating in the circle for me is no one talks to me. My voice cannot be heard above the traffic noise. I settled in and began eating my sandwich in silence as the men talked.

  There was a young man with Nurshah. He was silently eating as well. I was shocked when Baba said to his protege I would be attending Baba's physics class in the winter. He went on to say he hoped I would eventually move into Nurshah's old roll.

ASL mute draw "A" to mouth

  Nurshah asked me a direct question. I turned to Baba signing that it was too loud, I was mute. That was when I learned the irony of Hazeem's name, as he translated my ASL for Nurshah. Hazeem (Thunder) has a powerful booming voice. We had a quick exchange in ASL. He made my least favorite observation, "I deaf, U dumb..." Baba gently corrected him in ASL with, "Boy prefers M-U-T-E." He knows I hate the term dumb.

  Nurshah asked again if I was a math major, and excited by the universities physics program. I signed back I was just an engineering student, and auditing Baba's class. When Hazeem spoke my words Nurshah laughed and replied so was he when he met the professor. He gestured towards Baba with three fingers. One does NOT point with one finger here, and NEVER directly at a thing or person.

  Nurshah and I chatted back and forth. It was so weird being talked to like an adult, or at least a big kid. We discussed how my path shifted from bioinformatics to a straight engineering degree. I realized Nurshah was a fellow uber-math-nerd as he explained bioinformatics to Hazeem. After a while, it felt as if I was being interviewed.
 
  Fifteen minutes in,our sandwiches were gone. I had a "light bulb moment," maybe I am dumb. I asked Baba, "Why are we here?" He tried for a moment to feign surprise at my question. I told him it was clear I was the focus of this meeting. Why here where I was weak.

  I discovered I was being interviewed by BOTH Nurshah and Hazeem. We walked to a quiet coffee shop and continued our discussion. Turned out Nurshah was not just a former student, but was on the University's admission board. 

Hazeem is a teacher as well. He teaches deaf children, and runs a deaf mute support group. Long story short I will be learning TWO languages Arabic and Levantine Arabic Sign Language

  Baba announced we would be celebrating the return of his son from business in Iran and invited the two men to join us for dinner Monday.

  On the way home Baba encouraged me to get involved with Hazeem's support group. It would be good to meet people like you, maybe your age.

Now We Are Cookin...

  When Baba and I returned home I started my cooking lesson. I had finished making the humus and a veggie tray for mese and I was helping Mama dice onions and veggies for ara’yes. She suddenly announced "Knife down, lesson over!" I obeyed and was about to ask what I had done wrong, when strong hands grabbed my waist from behind me. I have become used to it. The men in the family will often move me out of the way to get what they need.

  I turned my head to see who was man handling me and where they wanted me to move. I made an excited squeak sound as I spun collapsing into Zahir's chest. "It is not Monday!" I was shaking like an over stimulated chihuahua as I wept happy tears into his shirt. He told me he passed on the farewell celebration to get back to me.

  His parents welcomed him home. Then they brought him up to speed, praising my good behavior.

We made it as far as the new sofa. He commended me on a wise purchase, firm yet comfortable. I woke up in our bed. He had our meals brought to the outer room. Then he would bring them in. I didn't realize how fun it could be to spend 24 of 30+ hours in bed.

SO HAPPY!!!