My boys are here. The other day, I was eating lunch with all twenty-three of them in the dining hall. I think I mentioned before that I'm not yet comfortable with Syrian culture? Well. One of the boys asks me, "Beddak bendora?" Do you want a tomato? Yes, I would. But I don't have a knife to cut it with. Before I can expalin this, he hands me one, and takes one for himself, and bites into it like an apple. When in Rome, I think to myself, and start to eat my tomato the same way.
Father Mayas walks along the table monitoring el-shebaab (the young men.) He takes one look at me, throws me a knife and says, "Joel, don't eat like you're from Saudi Arabia."
That's all for now. I am insanely busy this week and next week, and it's hard to make it to an internet cafe. If you've sent me an e-mail, I really appreciate it, and will respond when I get the chance. Just not now. Sorry about the inconvenience.
Grace and peace,
Joel
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment