Jeff Adams

By the second morning my ears are growing accustomed to the morning call to prayer. I’ve been in this part of the world before, of course, but I don’t think I have ever had the mosque’s loudspeaker attached to my ear as though it were BOSE headphones. I will say this – the singer at this particular mosque had a great voice and clear diction. Not that I could understand anything! The wakeup was welcomed this morning, as the hotel opened the breakfast room a bit early for us since we were leaving for the airport.

Flying east from Istanbul toward the neighboring country is an astounding trip! First, the snow-covered mountains of Turkey are spectacular! OK, I confess. My first thoughts are carnal, selfish and totally egocentric. Looking at those mountains I was thinking that this is the third year in a row that for one reason or another I have not been able to go skiing even once! I wonder if the Apostle Paul ever had thoughts like that. Well, at least not about alpine skiing. On a deeper layer of thought, I mulled over the record of human history that has been played out on the real estate passing 35,000 feet below me. Deeper stuff than the snow.

Mid-afternoon we landed in Erbil, or Irbil or Arbil. In case you did the Google earth thing I thought I’d help you out with some of the alternate spellings. Actually, the Kurdish name is Hewler or close to that if written in Latin script. Beyond that, I am not at liberty to tell you where we headed.

The airport here is new, very nice and up-to-date, as are many things in this boom city where construction cranes almost seem to outnumber the satellite dishes. I can’t believe the changes since I was here last a couple of years ago. Our rented bus couldn’t clear security to get to the pickup lanes by the airport, so we had to take the shuttle bus to the parking lot where it was waiting for us.

Let’s see … there are ten in our group and we ordered a 12 passenger bus.

Is that really our bus?

Several of us said that. Several times.

It was a very nice and clean bus. And it DID have 12 seats if you include the driver and places for three small children or any adults under three and half feet tall. Some of us are pretty good size boys. Oh, and did we forget to mention we might have luggage? That’s right NO luggage space in the bus, that is, if you want to use the seats.

There was a luggage rack on top. Hmmmm. Not much choice here because we’ll be driving for two or three hours. Tony climbed up on top and our driver came up with some – no, not rope, not really cord. To tell you the truth I’m not sure what it was. Kind of reminded me of that material that you weave on lawn chairs. I’m not sure I’d want to trust my fat butt to that material, let alone my luggage life-line for two weeks! We not only had luggage for ourselves but were bringing stuff for friends.

Once the bags had been stacked and looped and threaded and tied down as best as possible, we all stood back and contemplated that cute little doubt flirting around at gut level. We ARE people of faith after all, so we climbed about in order of age and size. There were some hints of grousing in the air, until the Latino delegation reminded everyone that if we were in Latin America there would still be room for another good ten or twelve people still!

Our bus driver speaks not of word of English, is a gentleman on the far side of 60 something and dresses in the traditional Kurdish baggy pants. He’s very nice, but we are trying to figure out what hand motions mean “Stop at the next 7-Evelen so we can get something to drink” in Kurdish. Somehow we got the message across and Mike and I am bopping into a little roadside store. Have I told you yet that Kurdish people are among the most hospitable and genuinely friendly people on the planet? Well, they are. We are going through both aisles of the little store snatching up snacks and armloads of soda cans – some recognizable, some not so much.

By this time neighbors are coming by to see the freak show and get their picture taken with us. We have no local currency, of course and don’t mention that until we have the equivalent of a day’s worth of trade in front of the register. Slapping down a $20, Mike steps back to let culture run its course. Neighboring store owners, assorted taxi drivers and a potential customer or two are all speaking at the same time to the shop owner, whipping out calculators and coming up with an acceptable currency exchange rate. Our second step of faith today. We got roughly $10 back and called it a very good day.

Off we went climbing into the hills. What stunning scenery! This is what Abraham might have seen when he took Sarah for a ride when they were teenagers.

Suddenly, scratch, slide, bump, bump, thud! I KNEW that was going to happen!

Beto’s suitcase is bouncing up and down on the asphalt. The driver quickly slows, I throw open the side door and jump out as he comes to a pause and begins to turn around. I am running down the highway trying to beat cars and especially trucks to the suitcase. Fortunately, they are all managing to dodge it. Arriving by the side of the accident victim, I found that the best part of this story is that the contents of suitcase were not strewn all over Ur of the Chaldees! The bad part is that with one more roll they would have been. Ur is still a ways south of here, but you get the idea.

Ever the nice guy, Beto said that he didn’t really want to take that suitcase anyway but his wife insisted. He thinks she might have prayed for something like this so he would buy her a new one. Not to worry! Beto has a cloth fold-up inside that he pulls out and piles everything right in. Others have been redoing the whatever-it-is long, skinny stuff that is supposed to hold the remaining cases in place.

We did make it the rest of the way without further incident. Winding down mountain road switchbacks, we pulled into the small, isolated city of our destination. The setting is beautiful, but Western tourism has yet to arrive. You’ve heard of Motel 6? Well, this was about a Motel 2. Not bad; we lugged the luggage into the lobby. Mike was trying to communicate with the manager on duty, or owner, or maybe just some guy who was in the lobby to ask where the ice machine was or change a bill for coins for the Coke Machine. Unfortunately, the guy spoke only two words in English – “Ten minutes.” From that we concluded that something would happen in ten minutes, but we weren’t sure what that would be. We were hoping that he didn’t really mean 50 minutes but could only count to ten in English.

Turns out that in ten minutes our local contact arrived, the one who made the reservation, to tell us that the bus dropped us off at the wrong hotel. OUR hotel was about 100, no make that about 500 yards back up the road. No problem! Roll ‘em!! Glad my little case has wheels!

Let’s see, make this about a Motel -3. Clean, spacious room, no towels, tp or drinking water. No, it’s not that they forgot to put them out. … That’s fine. I’ve been here before in a former life in Latin America. I add these details for those of you who think I live this glamorous life of waiting limousines whisking me off to Four Seasons Hotels in exotic spots on the world’s beaches.

You may have guessed – no wifi. That’s fine, but some of us were about to have a mental meltdown not being able to charge cell phones. Cell phone service is great, by the way. And, they did turn on the electricity for us. Yes, you read that right. The problem is that they use a funky plug in this area, and I forgot to carry my James Bond, one-size-fits-all plug kit. The crisis was averted, however, when I figured out how to hack the receptacle with a Q-tip and a Continental plug.

It is fairly quiet as compared to Istanbul, except that right outside my window is, not a mosque, but the spot where everyone converges to sit and smoke those water pipe thingys with the long hose-like pipes. Know what I mean? No? Geeze! When was the last time you walked around Westport! Anyway, they sit and talk and laugh and make a bunch of noise. They do this while the band takes a break and those who have been pounding on the drums rest their hands. Supposedly, this serves all kinds of social functions and needs in those parts of the world where one can’t watch Oprah. It really was fun to watch and listen – for a while.

After dinner we had gathered in one of the spacious rooms (really) and were joined by a very special visitor. He is the reason we are here. I had met him previously in circumstances I cannot relate to you. I was so anxious for those who had not met him to be able to just be in his presence and be blessed. Through a translator, he began to share his heart and tell the story of his journey and some of the incredible things that God is doing through his life in this part of the world. Despite being tired, a hush fell over the room and we all knew we were in the presence of a very, very special individual. Eyes were moistening up and lumps formed in throats.

I KNEW that was going to happen.