When can I really say....this...here...this is where I live....truly live????? When can I say....this is home????? Like the verse says: "There where the treasure is there the heart will also be." I think time is a good decision maker and answer provider on these questions. When theirs is yours and yours becomes theirs! A friend once said, that you know you have been in a place a long time when a death in your neighborhood touches you deeply. Also I think when the major differences between them and you becomes insignificant ...When the funny foods, smells, clothes and colors becomes part of your daily life and liking. A person in a house next door....becomes a neighbor with a name... and then a dear friend. How and then this happens....I believe is one of those beautiful things we don't have an answer to.
This might sound like...rose petal pink covered sponge cake...but it's not! Becoming part of a different culture, language, neighborhood and people is a process and sometimes a very painful process. It is a process of the mind, heart and will....It is also a lovely journey of smells...tastes....sounds...colors and feelings.
Let me take your mind walking thru the place here where my heart has found a dwelling place...I think the way a place smells is what brings back the most vivid memories to me. All places has its great and then not so great smells.I will start of with my favorite...coffee! Nothing smells better than a fresh cup of foaming, sweet Turkish coffee served in those delightful little cups. On a more sober topic... the big dumpsters here in every street and on every street corner! Of all the smells this gets my nose the most. I often keep my breath when I walk past these in the summer. Great for my lung capacity! Oh the "thrill" when I forgot about this...and go smelling along one...Oh! Oh! Oh! It is a mixture between rotten vegetables, fruit and all things bad.
I love the smell and sounds in the bazaar....it smells like fruit, vegetables, fresh herbs and then often not so good rotten cut off leaves on the side, the fish mongers runaway water and the cheese stands left overs....It is comforting smells and make me always smile on my way back home up the hill to our home. But like all wise men say the real test lays in the tasting. Sweet dark, strong coffee, fresh herbs with lemon and fresh ground black pepper....black, strong, sweet tea...spices that takes you on a trip.... to a different Era in history.
I think I often miss out on the sounds here...I find myself so occupied in what I'm busy with in my direct little world. I do catch myself listening to the call of prayer....when the wind blows and carries the sounds in the direction of our home. It has become a comforting sound...a sound of MY neighborhood and home. It also reminds my heart and mind of why I'm here.....
It feels like home, what more can I hope or ask for? As a foreigner this has become home with all its sounds, smells and differences. Walking the streets and standing in the schoolyard waiting with the other mothers for the school bell to ring....I then look around...and feel like I belong. No one is staring or asking.. we are all waiting together... standing up straight when the Anthem plays...and I only catch a word here and there, but then honestly I have to admit that I often get a lump in my throat when the music starts...and a gentle feeling of love for this people rises in my heart....
Many photo's and postcards can tell beautiful stories of places...but the real beauty lays in the heart of the people that lives there. The look in their eyes..the way they love their children. The way they stare when no one is looking...the lonely..happy, sad, discouraged or angry stares... Nothing can look more bad and ugly as that what is seen thru the eyes of him that does not want to see the good, the beautiful and the kind. God sees this nation...ALWAYS as a people that He loves...He longs for them to see Him for who He is....
