Foreign Service Problems: Potluck vs. Cabin Pressure Protocol

Spa Lo (photo from their website, spalo-dz.com)

This week my husband outdid himself for my birthday/our anniversary.  He found someone to come clean our apartment (which is quite a trick here in Algiers) and he made reservations for me and my friend Magda* to have an afternoon at a posh spa.

During our spa chat, I shared with Magda how reluctant I am to do things like hire a housecleaner, join a gym or go to a spa.  Even travel (other than trips to family, Congo or church meetings) is something I don’t do unless hubby plans it.  An accusatory voice in my head reminds me of all my friends for whom that money would make a big difference.  Growing up a pastor's kid, it was ingrained in me to put the community’s needs first---to pay special attention to newcomers and the marginalized---and, of course, to always wait until everyone else has gone through the potluck line before filling your plate.  

I reflected on how this approach has led to hunger (metaphorical and literal), disappointment and resentment as I’ve tried to adapt to the Foreign Service life.  Magda pointed out that in the high-stress embassy world where most folks are barely holding it together, I need to shift my approach to what we are instructed to do on airplanes: When there is a drop in cabin pressure….put your oxygen mask on first before helping others.  Otherwise, you end up gasping for breath and in the chaos no one will help you.  That is, if I don't start taking care of me first, I can't be bitter if others don't take care of me either.

So, while I probably won’t be returning to the posh spa anytime soon, I've decided that I am calling long-term dibs on the housecleaner hubby found us, and the next childcare lead I find I’m claiming for my family instead of sharing it with others first.  Once my breathing and brain function are back to healthy levels, then we can talk about hosting potlucks at our place again.

 

Taylor

*I wish everyone had a friend like Magda. She gets me out of the apartment regularly by pressuring me into things like joining a gym or going out to lunch. She listens non-judgmentally as I fret on and on, whilst she herself is dealing with being a foreigner without the perks of diplomatic status.  She always encourages me to take care of myself.

 

 

Les Soeurs de Bethesda

It takes a lot for me to be truly surprised by something anymore.   This week, however, I spent a few days at a nunnery in Switzerland for a meeting of leaders in The United Methodist Church's North Africa District.  This wasn't the part I found odd.  It was when I began to ask more about this monastic order hosting us that I received my shock. These sisters aren't Catholic; they are United Methodist!

This monastic order of deaconesses, the Sisters of Bethesda, started in Strasbourg in 1892 and by 1923 had formed themselves into large communities in both Strasbourg and Bale.  The sisters had many vocations--including service in Algeria--between them, and in Bale they even founded a hospital that still stands proud.  Next door, the remaining Bale sisters live together in a building designed for the realities of this chapter of their journey together.  As their numbers dwindle (now just over 30), empty rooms function as guest housing.

It's bittersweet to be privileged to witness this chapter of something so beautiful as people of faith spending their lifetimes together--sharing their possessions and encouraging one another in their service to humanity.   This nomad yearns for such communion.

National Anthems

Photos from U.S. Embassy Algiers' Facebook page

 It's National Day season here in Algiers; the time when many of the embassies try to squeeze in their biggest diplomatic event of the year (celebrating their Independence Day, Queen's birthday, or some other patriotic holiday) after the winter cold/rains and before the start of Ramadan, when diplomatic functions can't start until after sunset. There are so many of these events that a friend of mine laughed that she had gone to ten of them in just five evenings!

Being both a foreign service spouse and a member of a choir whose memberships includes several high-ranking diplomats (led by the British Ambassador), I got to hear--and rehearse-- a number of National Anthems this week. In fact, I was even drafted to be the soloist for the USA's Anthem for their event (had never analyzed until then why that song is so tricky to perform).

I found a sort of spirituality in attending the patriotic celebrations of others and singing their anthems with them.  In fact, this week reminded me of the ritual of Passing the Peace in church.  Sure, we have our differences and it is frequently difficult to get along, but these embassy receptions aren't simply parties for diplomats, government officials, and key contacts just as Passing the Peace isn't merely shaking hands.   It is about setting aside our conflicts for a moment and honoring each other.  And if only for just that evening, a world where there is true friendship between all our countries seems possible.

Ramadan Kareem


Taylor

For obvious reasons, we only sing/play the first verse of the Algerian Anthem at all these events.

Life in the Labyrinth: Algiers, Algeria

Labyrinth in Church of Reparatus, Orléansville, Algeria

A dear friend from college, Kate, recently flew out to spend a week with us here in Algiers. I hadn't realized just how desperately I needed her shoulder to cry on until she arrived.  Kate is the sort of woman I aspire to be: emotionally mature, playful, great listener, the kind of friend who will go to unreasonable lengths to stay connected.  No matter how big the storm she's going through (and she's faced some whoppers), she still manages to project serenity to those around her and never pulls the "my problems are much bigger than yours" card.  Did I mention she's brilliant too?

We did our best to show her around, which led to conversations about the labyrinth that is this city.  She mentioned that one thing she likes about prayer labyrinths is the way they always start by bringing you extremely close to the goal and then sending you far away from it. I got to thinking about that again today as I received a couple more rounds of undesired news.

For the past 7 months here, it feels like every time I've nearly got everything settled (housing, childcare, work, ministry permit, transportation, etc.), the rug gets ripped out from under me and I'm back at square one. I confess that lately I have failed miserably at my resolution to be a cheerful non-anxious presence to folks around me.  I suspect my only friends/acquaintances here who haven't heard my complaints are the ones who call me their pastor.  So today, as I missed a turn and drove round and round looking for a route home, I meditated on the thought that my adventures in Algiers are like the journey of a prayer labyrinth; the desired spot is always so tauntingly close, yet the journey weaves you all over.

When I finally made it back to the house (with my child now soundly asleep), I, out of curiosity, googled labyrinths in Algeria.  It turns out that the earliest known Christian labyrinth is located in Algeria.  Toggling over to my Facebook newsfeed, a friend had linked on my wall that the man who played Toby, the infant brother from the beloved Jim Henson film Labyrinth (if you've never watched it, go do so), has just collaborated with some of my favorite actors to make a film.  Just a coincidence?  Not in the surreal world I live in.  ;)

Jim Henson's Labyrinth is overflowing with wisdom 

  

Love is in the Air: Springtime in Algiers

a sunny afternoon at Ben Aknoun 

After what felt like an eternity of cold rainy days, the warm sun returned to us in Algiers this week. As school was still on break, this meant Evelyn and I got to take some outdoors excursions with friends.  The people-watching aspect of this was highly enjoyable.

Young love is definitely in the air here in Algiers.  With socially acceptable dating activities being limited to well-lit public spaces, the parks and cafes are full of couples with that special look in their eyes. The sprawling Ben Aknoun Zoo (which is much more open parkland than zoo) was like Lover's Lane--or should I say Noah's Ark?--, with couples lining up at the entrance and quickly dispersing off the paths.

Even as I was perched inside the hamster-cage-like playset on the rooftop of our neighborhood Ben Burger (Evelyn is too short to climb up to the slide level without help), I had to hold in my giggles as I observed the interactions of numerous youth sharing fries and infatuation.  In one secluded corner an Algerian young man wooed with his guitar.  I found myself floating through a personal time warp as I listened to him serenade the object of his love with Hotel California followed by some Clapton and, yes, Stairway to Heaven. Next he transitioned into a Nirvana medley, complete with Teen Spirit. The set was finished with a jump back to mid-'60s love songs. The two departed having clearly connected in a profound way. Meanwhile, my friend Magda and I and the kids shared a moment of beautiful love with a Ben Burger chocolate cream layer cake. I think I may have liked it better than the strawberry tart we shared there the previous day.

Because Ben Burger isn't just burgers & fries (photo from their FB page)

   

Standing up to Hate (A Love Letter to my Muslim Friends)

 

Hassan II Mosque in Casablanca, Morocco

My blog has become rather quiet again lately. I’d blame my studies and crazy life, but I confess it is also because I’ve started to be swayed by the “safety via keeping a low profile” philosophy followed by many of our colleagues here in Algiers. The more I learn and the more I integrate myself into my new community, the more quiet I become about how I spend my days, what social organizations I’ve joined, and what I think. This is a shame because, as my Facebook friends* know, I have been having a lot of fun these past five months playing tourist and discovering the beautiful aspects of Algeria as well as neighboring Morocco.

There is a specific thought, though, that’s been eating at me a lot lately, so I’ve decided to share it as an open letter—a letter specifically to my Muslim friends.

To my devout Muslim friends:

Some of you I have only just met; others entered my life many years ago. First of all, I would like to say thank-you to each of you. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for the casual conversations, the hallway banter, and for being a friendly face. Thank you for being there for me when I needed a shoulder to cry on. Thank you for helping me raise my daughter. Thank you for even showing up regularly to my ballroom dance classes. ;)

Thank you for inviting me to join your holy meals—from feeding me as a hungry undergrad in Washington, DC (no, it was no coincidence that I hung out at the American U. interfaith center frequently around sunset during Ramadan) to welcoming my family to the Iftar at your mosque in Plainfield, Indiana. Thank you for teaching me what your faith means to you. For sharing why you do—or don’t—chose to wear a hijab. Thanks for including me in special events in your life—like wedding celebrations.

There’s been a lot of chatter online by self-proclaimed Christians about how Muslims like you need to stand up to violent hate groups who self-identify as Muslim. Since the logic is that one is responsible for the actions of others who identify as the same religion, I offer my deepest apologies. I apologize because I have failed to effectively stand up to those who call themselves followers of Jesus yet they slash your tires, insult you, hurt people you love, and make you feel fearful to be open about your faith. I apologize for the hate crimes and the massacres and the vitriol spewed on the evening news. I apologize that, as one person of faith speaking to another, I don’t know how exactly we can stop the madness.

I now find myself living in a country where Christians are not popular, to say the least.  It doesn’t help that the older generations remember the heinous acts committed against Algerians by those who claimed to follow Christ. To my new Algerian Muslim friends, I say a special thank you for being kind to this Christian.         

I am not sure what else I can write other than say "I love you" and let the rest be read between the lines. 

Standing with you faithfully,

Taylor

*If you send me a Facebook friend request but don’t already know me personally, please include a message introducing yourself and telling why you want to be friends.