a meeting of cultures at war

Well, I’m still sick, but am feeling better. Monday, I finally broke down and went to the doctor. When I told her that I’d wanted to try getting rid of this without antibiotics, she looked at me and said, “Considering your sinuses, I wouldn’t recommend that.” So I’m meekly taking my medicine (clarithromycin) as the doctor ordered.

Something else I want to write about, though. This is something I’ve wanting to write about for a long time, but I always forget. Well, this time, I told myself that I was going to follow through and not let these thoughts just fade from my mind!

Today (Tuesday), Ed and I had to go downtown to the Ausländerbehörde (Foreigners’ Office) so that I could get my new visa stuck in my passport, since my old one expired today. Nothing like last-minute, right? ;o) Anyway, on the way home, we stopped at Galerie Roter Turm (“Red Tower Gallery”), which is a downtown shopping mall. There, we ate lunch at Kervansaray (I think that’s how it’s spelled, anyway), our favorite Turkish place.

We’ve been going to this place fairly regularly for quite awhile, long enough for the guy who works there to know what we want before we order it. We always have great conversation with him. He’s really friendly, outgoing; and if there isn’t a horde of other customers, he’s always happy to take a few minutes to chat with us. He told us to call him “Joe,” saying that his real name is too long and complicated.

Shortly after we started eating regularly at Kervansaray, we found out that Joe isn’t actually Turkish. He’s Iraqi.

Joe always has something interesting to share with us. I’m not sure how long he has lived in Germany, but it’s long enough that he can communicate effortlessly in German. He has family all over the world: an uncle in Australia, another relative (I think) in Canada, and his mother and one of his sisters still live in Iraq. He hasn’t been back to Iraq in two years because travel there has become too dangerous.

His news about his homeland always interests me a lot. He calls his mother about once a week. He always worries about his mother and sister because their city, Kirkuk, is plagued by terrorist activities. Car bombs are a particular danger. His mother’s house has no more windows because bomb concussion has broken all of them. They can’t go out at night because there’s an after-dark curfew.

Joe talks about how the last time he was in Iraq, he passed through a checkpoint guarded by American soldiers. He wanted to try talking with them, but his English isn’t good enough. And this is the crux of the matter, the reason I am writing about this: Joe likes Americans. He thinks it’s past time for American troops to be out of Iraq…but he likes Americans. He likes us.

As their countries remain locked in war, two Americans and an Iraqi have peaceful, pleasant, open conversation, making friends with each other…in German. ;o) Not only that, but the two Americans are Christians, the Iraqi is Muslim, and on occasion they even mention religion and are able to find a few plots of common ground.

This is one of those situations I take as proof that in spite of all the evil things happening in this world, there are still some things that are good and right.

I’m thankful that God crossed our path with Joe’s. He’s a good reminder that no matter where you go, no matter the apparent evidence to the contrary, there are still open, friendly, warm people who try to brighten the corner of the world where they are.
Ed and I want to try inviting Joe and his wife over for dinner. I have no idea if they will accept…but we want to get to know them better. Who knows what God might do? :o)