June 6, 2009
The nearly-full moon nestled between the criss-cross of the wires strung over my head, I lay on the stone block in the middle of the rooftop, blanketless, but swaddled in the balmy night air. We were at a party in the USAID compound, but my eyes were closing to the sounds of mingling and music and laughter coming from the party below. I think I was really tired out from our second failed attempt at reaching Lalish, the Yezedi temples up north. We only got as far as the Assyrian rock carvings in Khanis before the driver started demanding more money than what we had bargained for.
Instead of giving in to his deceit, the three of us got out of the cab and joining the locals picnicking along the canal's edge. A Yezedi family on their way back from their annual pilgrimage to the temples invited us for tea and lunch. Once again, I was overwhelmed by the generosity displayed toward perfect strangers. After eating and drinking, I watched and took pictures as men, women and children waded in the dirty brown and green water, fully-clothed (with the exception of two stark-naked little boys). On the other side of the canal, T joined the Kurds, ducking under the rocks and getting baptized by the water streaming down off the rocky ledge. What a strange sight, all in all. I guess bathing suits or clean water aren't all that necessary for swimming after all, as we Westerners are led to believe.
*PS: We never made it to Lalish. It was not meant to be.
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