Moon Over Madaba

Moon over Madaba

Jordan remains a country of beauty and relative calm nestled between two of the most volatile regions in the Middle East. Landing in Amman, one is fully aware of their surroundings, as men holding Blackwater signs and drivers looking for groups of western tourists await their new arrivals. I pause to look out the vast windows of the airport and ponder the proximity of such pain and despair which I read about in the paper. Over a few hills to the East lies Baghdad, to the West lies Israel.

Quite a surreal drive into the little town of Madaba, Bedouin tents scattered amongst the arid landscape with flocks of sheep and groves of olive trees woven through the desert landscape and street signs with arrows pointing towards Iraq. My driver proudly tell me of his family in Ohio and how he hopes to obtain a visa soon to return for a visit. He lived in Ohio for sometime, but returned to care for his family farm. Pride fills his voice as he tells of the olive trees and livestock that his brother is now caring for just outside of town. The Jordanian flag hangs from his mirror and posters of politicians are taped to his rear window. Local music plays from a cassette tape as we travel the roads into Madaba.

As we enter town, I reminded of such vast differences in our world. At home, the local parks and recreation department is tearing down a wonderful little spot of woods and natural habitat near my home to fill the land with playing fields and parking lots. A multi-million dollar project to “better the community.” I look out the window and see young boys kicking a worn and tattered soccer ball through a dusty patch of empty space between three story concrete buildings, laughing and playing amongst the debris and rocks that litter their ‘field.’ Their joy and love of the sport is no different than in the States, only the surroundings. Does a community need such millions dollar structures for its children to play and engage in the act of being a child? Instead of building such a structure for children to play, might we just provide the simple tools needed so everyone could play, a round ball and a pair of shoes?

Calls to prayer fill the air as I sip on Arabic coffee and watch the moon rise over the hotel. The call is distinct and beautiful, a strong reminder the vast distance which lies between me and my home.