Yemen is a huge, fried doughnut, straight from the pan and covered in sugar. I will eat every last bite; cavities, calories, and sticky fingers, be damned.
When I got off the plane at Aden airport at 5am, the heat and humidity slammed me. The sun hadn't risen yet but beads of sweat started to trickle down my neck as I walked from the tarmac to the "terminal". Inside there was that inescapable smell of third world mold. I was off the plane less than 20 minutes when I started to question why I had come. That was four days ago. In the past three days I have fallen in love with Aden.
Lust plays a big part in falling in love. Staying in love is different, of course, but falling in love is like wanting to eat someone or something whole. Huge, fried, hot, cloyingly sweet - who cares?! I want it. And give me tea with milk on the side, in a sticky cup. No place to wash my hands after? No worries. I want seconds.
After resolving a few issues at the airport (forgot to get a visa, couldn't find my bags because they had been thrown off the conveyor, couldn't find my contact person), I was off in a dusty pick-up with the Operations Manager at the refugee agency I'll be working for. He offered to drive me to the hotel where I'd stay until my apartment was cleaned but I was too wired from the excitement and lack of sleep of the past few days, so I asked to start work that morning. He laughed and said that he wouldn't allow it and instead drove me around Aden twice to see the sites.
The first thing that struck was the people sleeping out on the streets. Some literally sleep on the street. The boundary between street and sidewalk in Aden is thin, despite the curbs being two feet high or more. Medians are meeting and sleeping places, and any side lane is good for a number of things, from chewing qat to taking a nap. Anyway, I was surprised by the sheer number of people who seem homeless, the majority of whom are Somali refugees. There's no accurate way to explain their situation. If you've ever been to Skid Row in L.A. you might have an idea but spread that throughout an entire city that it is hot, humid, and dusty as hell.
At night, when the temperature drops to around bearable, Aden becomes much more enjoyable. Everyone is out on the streets - chewing qat and talking, chewing qat and playing soccer, chewing qat and shopping. The city breathes through the heat and dust and I can feel it. It's a feeling that makes me take my hands out of my pockets and swing my arms when I walk, slow down and look people in the eye, greet strangers, eat whatever looks good. So much looks good. Aden at night is beautiful.
29 March 2009
To Everyone at Interfaith
Before writing about Yemen, there's a need to express my thanks and love to a few people I wasn't able to see before I left Chicago and a few people who I didn't thank enough.
First, the deepest respect goes to all the generous and loving people I had the pleasure of working with at Interfaith Refugee and Immigration Ministries in Chicago. Many of you are nothing less than an inspiration to the refugees you serve and to me. May the Almighty bless every one of you who struggles in earnest day after day to ease the burdens of resettled refugees in Chicago.
Second, to all of the mothers and fathers I've been lucky enough to meet and who have accepted me as a friend, I thank you for trusting me to be a mentor and teacher to your children. I understand and fully appreciate the profundity of your faith in me. I am eternally grateful and honored. It is my hope that I was able to help your children find their balance in a new place and culture.
Last, and most important, thanks to the kids who have been my students, friends, and inspiration for the past six years. Words simply cannot express the depth of my respect and care for you. Many of you have seen horrors that most people could never imagine, yet you're hopeful and hungry for life. My heart is filled with memories and my mouth is filled with stories of our time together. Your futures are filled with possibility. It's true when people tell you that you can be whatever you want to be. Believe in yourselves! When each one of you enters university when you are older, I want you to email me and tell me about it. I will keep this email address: michaelwolven@gmail.com . God bless you all!
Hadgu, Amy, Sarah - THANK YOU!
- Michael
First, the deepest respect goes to all the generous and loving people I had the pleasure of working with at Interfaith Refugee and Immigration Ministries in Chicago. Many of you are nothing less than an inspiration to the refugees you serve and to me. May the Almighty bless every one of you who struggles in earnest day after day to ease the burdens of resettled refugees in Chicago.
Second, to all of the mothers and fathers I've been lucky enough to meet and who have accepted me as a friend, I thank you for trusting me to be a mentor and teacher to your children. I understand and fully appreciate the profundity of your faith in me. I am eternally grateful and honored. It is my hope that I was able to help your children find their balance in a new place and culture.
Last, and most important, thanks to the kids who have been my students, friends, and inspiration for the past six years. Words simply cannot express the depth of my respect and care for you. Many of you have seen horrors that most people could never imagine, yet you're hopeful and hungry for life. My heart is filled with memories and my mouth is filled with stories of our time together. Your futures are filled with possibility. It's true when people tell you that you can be whatever you want to be. Believe in yourselves! When each one of you enters university when you are older, I want you to email me and tell me about it. I will keep this email address: michaelwolven@gmail.com . God bless you all!
Hadgu, Amy, Sarah - THANK YOU!
- Michael
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