Sunday, 8/17/2008
I can't believe how much I love it here. Maybe it's the novelty of it, maybe it will wear off after a few weeks, and I'll start wishing I was somewhere cooler, less isolated, more developed, and less dusty and brown. But at the moment, 3 days into my year-long sojourn in Erbil, I can say without exaggeration or falsehood that I love where I am.
I came here with the lowest of expectations with regards to beauty. Instead I find myself witness to some of the most beautiful sunsets I'd ever seen, a fiery red globe presiding over a vast desert landscape, sometimes over smooth, rolling brown hills, sometimes over a totally flat plain broken ere and there by the silhouette of a rare tree or shrub. My room is on the ground floor, and right outside my balcony there is a cement ledge that grows out perpendicularly from the wall. I just discovered that this ledge is the perfect place to watch the sun “dropping” every evening. The construction workers continue working their machines even after the sun has disappeared behind the hills. They kick up huge clouds of dust, some of which gets in my eyes. By sunset, the temperature has cooled considerably, so it is pleasantly warm at least until October, which they say is when the cold season eases in. The workers- locals and Bangladeshi- drop by to say hello, and I get to use my newfound knowledge of the Kurdish language to greet them and ask their names and tell them mine. The great thing about learning Kurdish while I'm actually living here is I don't need books or cds or professors to learn it because there are teachers everywhere among the workers and teachers, and you learn just by talking and socializing with them. It's not the most efficient way, but it is definitely the most fun an natural way to learn a language.
Life in Erbil is a mix between Little House on the Prairie and the 21st century. On the way from the airport to the school, we drove through ghetto neighborhoods, as well as past rows of newly built mansions- palaces really- of a splendor and grandiosity you would not even see in the States, except for maybe Hearst castle or something. Also past gorgeously ornate, pastel-trimmed mosques that I plan to visit close-up later. But mostly, Iraqi Kurdistan is miles and miles and miles of unsettled land, sometimes flat like a prairie, other times rolling with hills like you would see on a roadtrip up SoCal. But almost always brown and hot and dusty-looking. And hot. Really hot. the signs of growth are unmistakeable, though, and many. Staring out the van window, I saw skeletons of future mansions fly by, as well as what looked like an entire family working together to build a home in the middle of nowhere really. Even the little kids were digging in the dirt, and it is this scene that made me think of the Ingalls family and the pioneer life.
Later, on the way to Naza Mall, I saw a dozen families picnicking in random spots along the highway- a strange sight to me because it would be like driving down I-5 and seeing a family having a picnic, blankets and all, just off the side of the road. But it appears to be a normal sight here along the highways of Erbil. Possibly, this is because there is no designated park or other green space nearby for those who live along these long stretches of road, so if you want to get a breath of fresh air with your family and have dinner outside, you just pick a spot along the open road, preferably one with a shady tree and set up blanket. It's so fascinating because in the US, everything is already discovered and settled, that it is hard to imagine the pioneering expeditions of our forefathers as anything more than storybook material now, in the 21st century. But here in Erbil, you see this old adventurous lifestyle of discovery and settling new lands come alive before your eyes- in the desert, under the glowing red sun.
Today, the school treated the entire staff to lunch at a fancy Lebanese restaurant about 10 minutes drive from the school. The food was delicious: many different kinds of Mediterranean-style salads, hummus and babaganoush, fried dumpling-type things filled with creamy cheese and meat. And flies. There was an annoying number of large flies buzzing around our food the entire time. Later, when the fruit platters came out, they were beside themselves with excitement. I tried to crush one with the salt shaker, but even that failed to kill it- neither in body nor spirit.
As we sat through the first day of orientation today, I felt truly excited about working with these people because we all want to be here, and whatever the initial draw was for each of us, we now know that we're about to take part in helping the Kurds in a small way, and it is exciting and meaningful. The students will mostly be children of local Kurds, many of them diplomats, businessmen, and yes, the prime minister. Due to the high-profile status of some of the students, we were told that during class hours, the grounds will be manned by gun-toting members of the peshmerga (Kurdish army). The campus, by the way is pretty impressive. 16 months ago, there was nothing. Now there is almost an entire campus including a sports arena, an outdoor amphitheater-type space, innumerable classroom space, pools, and of course, our apartment building. This S**** company is rich, yo. It's good to know that they are now using some of their money to build government schools that not-so-wealthy Kurds can attend.
As for the system itself, I'm not quite sure what to make of it. Working for S**** will be like working for the CIA- you think you know what you're doing, and who you're working for, but there seems to be an undercurrent of secrecy (”Whatever you do, do NOT talk to the parents! If they ask questions, politely say a few words and direct them to the supervisors. Teachers should under NO CIRCUMSTANCES interact with the parents!), and you get the feel that you're a cog in a corporate machine. The director even stated outright that a school should be run like a business...and maybe he is right. I don't know enough about the theories to have an opinion on that issue. All I know is, speaking in the present for a moment (the present being about 2 weeks after the date of this post), I've heard the name “S****” so many times by now, every time used as if it were the name of an actual person, that I'm starting to feel a bit brainwashed, just like when I was doing Kaplan training. Kaplan this, Kaplan that. S**** this, S**** that. Such is the nature of working for a company, I guess, and by blogging about it, I suppose I'm playing a part in the whole marketing strategy and implementation.
Anyway, back to the past. My room is enormous. I cannot believe my luck in getting all this space to myself, and they really went out of their way to make it homey and tastefully decorated. Floor-to-ceilng windows in both living room and bedroom leading to the balcony terrace, gorgeous curtains and Arabian-style hooks and knobs for them, where they are secured with golden tassels. Large, comfy L-shaped couch with more throw pillows than I will ever need- but it's nice to have them there. Tons of closet space and a decently-equipped kitchen. The only complain I have is the shower, which is the kind that is meant to flood the entire bathroom, so it has a drain and takes an hour or two to dry completely. But they provided us with squeegees today. Oh right, there's the leaky pipe in the kitchen. More about that later.
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