Stranger in a Strange Land: High School
Today’s writing prompt is irresistible: Something you learned in High School.
I left my US High School mid-year to live in Germany, and to go to a US Department of Defense High School.
I learned that not everyone thinks the same way I think.
I learned that sometimes the way I think might even be wrong, or incomplete.
I learned that even within our own culture, there may be varieties of cultures and many different ways to do a thing, and that none is truly the “right” way, that there may be many right ways.
I learned to lean back and observe, before I ventured an opinion.
I learned to listen when someone said I was wrong. I didn’t have to agree, but it helped to get this other perspective (no matter how mistaken it might have been, LOL)
After high school, I lived a nomadic life, back and forth to university, then marrying a military man and being on the move for the next forty years. Some of my best friends to this day are friends I made during those high school years, people who have led very different lives, but who still share so much in common because of our uncommon heritage and our diverse views. Learning that kind of flexibility eased the way in later life, living in different cultures in Germany, in Africa and in the Middle East and finally, in the Deep South. I’m still learning! 🙏😄🙏
Oscar Romero, Patron Saint of The Americas and El Salvador
My friends, when you hear that the immigrants seeking a new life in our country are rapists, thieves, the mentally ill and very bad people, please think of Oscar Romero, and all those who have fought the evil forces of thuggery and dictatorship to find a life of freedom for themselves, and for their families, especially, hope for their children.
I urge you to read a much criticized book, American Dirt, by Jeanine Cummins. Here is what Wikipedia says. My experience was that the struggles exposed in American Dirt are very typical of people seeking to escape the violence of their societies.
American Dirt is a 2020 novel by American author Jeanine Cummins, published by Flatiron Books. The book is about a Mexican bookseller who is forced to flee as an undocumented immigrant to the United States, along with her son, after her journalist husband exposes a local drug kingpin.
ÓSCAR ROMERO
ARCHBISHOP OF SAN SALVADOR, AND THE MARTYRS OF EL SALVADOR
(24 March 1980)
Óscar Arnulfo Romero y Galdámez (August 15, 1917 – March 24, 1980), commonly known as Monseñor Romero, was a priest of the Roman Catholic Church in El Salvador. He later became prelate archbishop of San Salvador.
As an archbishop, he witnessed numerous violations of human rights and began a ministry speaking out on behalf of the poor and victims of the country’s civil war. His brand of political activism was denounced by the hierarchy of the Roman Catholic Church and the government of El Salvador. In 1980, he was assassinated by gunshot while consecrating the Eucharist during mass. His death finally provoked international outcry for human rights reform in El Salvador.
In 1997, a cause for beatification and canonization into sainthood was opened for Romero and Pope John Paul II bestowed upon him the title of Servant of God. Pope Francis canonized Romero as a saint on 14 October 2018. He is considered the unofficial patron saint of the Americas and El Salvador and is often referred to as “San Romero” in El Salvador. Outside of Catholicism Romero is honored by other religious denominations of Christendom, like the Church of England through its Common Worship. He is one of the ten 20th-century martyrs from across the world who are depicted in statues above the Great West Door of Westminster Abbey, London.
from Wikipedia
Also commemorated on this day are three Maryknoll nuns and a woman lay missionary killed by a Salvadoran army death squad on 2 Dec, 1980, and additionally six Jesuits, their housekeeper and her daughter, who were also murdered by the Salvadoran army on 16 Nov. 1989.
Eid Mubarak 2026
May Allah bless you greatly on this great holiday, may you join with family and may you have peace and love in your hearts.
I give thanks for all the kindness you have shown me through the years, and for how you have helped me understand some of the nuances of the beliefs we share. We have more in common than we have differences.
“I Have No Need of You”
From this morning’s Lectionary Readings:
1 Corinthians 12:12-26
12 For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ.13For in the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body—Jews or Greeks, slaves or free—and we were all made to drink of one Spirit.
14 Indeed, the body does not consist of one member but of many. 15If the foot were to say, ‘Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body’, that would not make it any less a part of the body. 16And if the ear were to say, ‘Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body’, that would not make it any less a part of the body. 17If the whole body were an eye, where would the hearing be? If the whole body were hearing, where would the sense of smell be?
18But as it is, God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose. 19If all were a single member, where would the body be? 20As it is, there are many members, yet one body. 2
1The eye cannot say to the hand, ‘I have no need of you’, nor again the head to the feet, ‘I have no need of you.’ 22On the contrary, the members of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, 23and those members of the body that we think less honourable we clothe with greater honour, and our less respectable members are treated with greater respect; 24whereas our more respectable members do not need this. But God has so arranged the body, giving the greater honour to the inferior member, 25that there may be no dissension within the body, but the members may have the same care for one another. 26If one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honoured, all rejoice together with it.
Unintended Consequences
It is rare that I am stunned into silence.
This is not the world I grew up in. This is not the country I served. These are not the values we were taught as children, in a United States full of post WWII optimism, as we allied with other nations for the greater good.
I am a blessed woman. I have what I need, and my son married a woman with deeply perceptive insights. An environmental specialist, she taught me the concept of Unanticipated Consequences. We are witnessing a host of unanticipated consequence unrolling by the minute, consequences which will have reverberations far into the future – not forseeable consequences but lasting.
Our current Administration is whacko. They command the mightiest military on earth, and they hold the keys to nuclear weapons. I have a friend who says “We’re Doomed,” only he uses a stronger, vulgar word I don’t want to use here.
What Iran and the United States Have in Common
I don’t think I ever met an Iranian woman I didn’t like.
The Iranian women I met – it seemed to me – were all gorgeous. They were educated, and they liked to read books and if you ever want to have a great conversation, look for the Iranian woman. I survived many a stuffy reception, finding intelligent women and talking books, or customs, or history.
So I shudder as I see our forces gathering for a potential strike on Iran.
I get it. Iranian men are smart too, I used to run into them in college, always talking engineering, as in huge national engineering projects, and, way above my head, nuclear physics. They are smart, creative, and great problem solvers.
Here is what makes me laugh. I don’t think the Iranian nuclear threat is the problem. I think Iran is too much like the USA.
Iran has a strong, unpopular leader who is particularly tough on uppity women (do you see where this is going?) and has an economy which is slowly tanking. Iran wants the population to be COMPLIANT and does not like civil protest. Iran is hard on student protestors, but especially hard on non-compliant women.
Our equally unpopular leader, equally chaotic, arbitrary, and cruel, envies the Ayatollah’s theocratic autonomy. Theocracy in Iran has all the power; they can jail people with impunity. They kill protestors with impunity. Not only are they the LAW, but they are above the law.
So how is that working out for Iran? Not so great. It hasn’t worked out so great since the overthrow of the Shah. When people don’t have a voice in how the country are run, they aren’t happy, and unhappy people have ways of resisting, and sabotaging the oppressive regime.
I think that all this massing of power and threatening to invade Iran is a distraction from our own orange leader’s problems with leading. After one year of his leadership, jobs are declining, people cannot afford health care, colleges are afraid to teach critical thinking skills, and we have poorly trained goons and thugs with carte blanche to invade people’s houses, shove demonstrators around, and to kill with impunity. Or at least that is how I see it. I have seen no accountability for the killing of Renee Good or Jonathan Pretti in Minneapolis, nor for the homicides in the “detention centers” which are like huge cattle corrals.
And to what point? As long as the Iranians are increasingly unhappy with their own leader, their leadership has big problems. When the leadership can point their finger at an impending danger caused by an encroaching bully, it rallies the people to the national cause.
Oh, but the power and the might makes the heart beat faster, and what a perfect opportunity to play with all our ships and planes and the great glory of it all, you know, like what happened in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Oh wait! Another similarity! Our leader uses emergency powers because of an ALIEN INVASION! The Rule of Law no longer applies! We are overrun by our roofers! Our gardeners and landscapers! Our waiters! Our housekeepers! Our fruit and vegetable pickers! Our meat packers! Our teacher assistants! Our janitors! Our nursing home care-givers! Our teachers and professors! Our potential citizens, tempest-tossed, waiting by the Golden Door (posted on our Statue of Liberty, welcoming our fore-fathers to this country).
These are not the criminals and rapists our toddler-in-chief tells us he is saving us from; over 90% of those violently arrested and detained are NOT criminals, just people who will work hard to try to provide their family with a living wage and a roof over their heads, and enough food. Many are documented, going through the system. The system is failing them, and failing us, as a country. We are a nation of immigrants.
Like the Ayatollah, our leader seeks total control, including “protecting” our elections – protecting us from voting against him and his politics of hatred, inequality, and humiliation.
Do you think there is a long-term strategy in all this? Do you believe in the Board of Peace as a functional institute? Do you see anything here that is truly in the national interest of the citizens of the United States of America? All I see is a dance of chaos, self-enrichment, self-aggrandizement, vanity, and a grab for all the power.
Diwali: A Light Sparkles in Dark Times
Today, Labor Day, when dark events are taking place in our country, shutting down the light of liberty and democracy, we got an unexpected invitation – to a Diwali party, coming up in a couple months.
We are so honored. And we know Diwali; we were living in Al Fardan 1, in Doha, Qatar, when an Indian neighbor invited all the residents of Al Fardan to come over for Diwali. We didn’t know what Diwali was, and our internet was dial-up and irregular, but we asked around and were told, with big smiles, to go and find out.
The night of Diwali came, and we walked to our neighbor’s house, along with many of our Al Fardan neighbors. We could see it long before we arrived – thousands of candles set out in patterns in the yard, lining the sidewalk, leading us inside, to more lights and a feast of sweets, platters of sweets, all illuminated by gleaming candlelight.
Such open-hearted hospitality. Such generous sharing. No one was excluded; everyone was welcome, and there was plenty for everyone.
Our neighbors’ beliefs were different from ours, and yet, I believe all such generosity, freely given, springs from the same spirit.
We can’t wait for this upcoming Diwali.
When the News is Personal
MARTYRS OF THE SUDANS
(16 May 1983)
Photo From the Episcopal News Service
The Christian bishops, chiefs, commanders, clergy and people of Sudan declared, on May 16, 1983, that they would not abandon God as God had revealed himself to them under threat of Shariah Law imposed by the fundamentalist Islamic government in Khartoum. Until a peace treaty was signed on January 9, 2005, the Episcopal Church of the Province of the Sudan suffered from persecution and devastation through twenty-two years of civil war. Two and a half million people were killed, half of whom were members of this church. Many clergy and lay leaders were singled out because of their religious leadership in their communities. No buildings, including churches and schools, are left standing in an area the size of Alaska. Four million people are internally displaced, and a million are scattered around Africa and beyond in the Sudanese Diaspora. Twenty-two of the twenty-four dioceses exist in exile in Uganda or Kenya, and the majority of the clergy are unpaid. Only 5% of the population of Southern Sudan was Christian in 1983. Today over 85% of that region of six million is now mostly Episcopalian or Roman Catholic. A faith rooted deeply in the mercy of God has renewed their spirits through out the years of strife and sorrow.
From the proposal before the 75th General Convention
We have a friend in South Sudan, Manyan Debid Mayer. We met him with a delegation of African Journalists here in Pensacola looking at Freedom of the Press with Gulf Coast Diplomacy. He came to our house, with two other African delegates, shortly before Christmas, and we had a lovely and memorable evening together sharing our stories.
Manyan Debid told us about his childhood, as the Janjaweed attacked in Sudan, and how very suddenly, often in the middle of the night, an entire village would have to evacuate, carrying only what they could carry on their backs. It was chaotic, terrifying – and deadly. Villages would be burned and razed to the ground.
The villagers would run towards the missions in Uganda for safety. Sometimes families got separated. The children found shelter, and care, at the missions while they waited to be reunited with their desperate parents. At the missions, the priests would teach the children the basics, using a stick, and drawing letters, shapes and numbers on the ground. Manyan Debid, now a journalist, got his start with those very basic lessons at the mission churches.
We Americans know so little. Few even know where South Sudan is, or that it is a separate nation from Sudan, one of the newest nations in the world.
I got caught in a comical situation as I tried to wire funds to Manyan Debid once during continued difficulties in South Sudan. I went to my bank and asked them to wire x amount of money to my friend. They looked at me oddly. They called the bank manager, and had hushed conversations. The manager came in and interrogated me very gently, asking how I know this person, did he contact me over the internet, how often did he ask me for money, questions that were none of his business – except, as it turns out, it was. They thought I was an old lady being scammed by some internet scammer. Did I even know, they asked me, that Sudan was on the restricted countries list?
I explained equally gently and firmly that South Sudan is a separate country from Sudan, and how I knew this man, how we had met in Pensacola through a visit arranged by the Department of State, how he had been a guest in my house and that we had corresponded as friends, on Facebook for years. They didn’t believe me. They didn’t believe there was a separate country called South Sudan. At the end, I finally had to tell them it was MY money, and that I could send him this amount and even if it were a scammer, it would not hurt me. Very reluctantly, they wired the funds to my friend.
Manyan Debid and I are still in touch. Today, he is a working journalist in South Sudan, still bravely facing the forces who would like to take South Sudan, and all its oil wealth, and destroy the existence of South Sudan.
There are still martyrs in South Sudan. And most Americans don’t even know South Sudan exists.
Morocco Malta and the Med: Algiers!
We are excited. Algiers is one of the reasons we booked this tour, knowing that things can happen, and that for political reasons, or because of weather, it might not really happen. When you travel, you just have to accept that things are not always going to work out.
(On this trip, by the grace of God, every single thing worked out.)
It’s still dark, and we are sailing into the harbor at Algiers. On the hill I see – A Christmas Tree??!! No, as it turns out, this is a memorial to the martys of the war, the Algerian war for freedom from the French.
Algiers is the only port in which I heard the call to prayer. It was hauntingly beautiful. The mosques do not all start at the same time, so there is a kind of cacaphonic beauty from a large number of prayers going up at the same time.
The Hall of Honor is where we process through to get to our buses.
We used to see these “Palm Trees” in Kuwait, really communication towers.
You may be thinking, “Some of the photos here are not the quality we expect!” So, I will explain that I am shooting as fast as I can, surrounded by people I am trying to keep out of my shots, so I can give you an idea of what we are seeing. There is one group after another, all holding up their cameras, getting in one another’s shots. I try to stay ahead or behind, but trust me, the pressure is on. Each group is about twenty-five people, each group with five poorly disguised armed guards, trying to not look like armed guards. They turned out to be really nice guys. Trying to keep American tourists in a line going at a steady pace is a thankless task.
To me it was a little weird that every rectangular plastic basket I saw was purple.
I find some of these construction techniques and electrical wiring workarounds concerning.
We are taken to a hospitality villa, where they serve fresh dates, mint tea from fresh mint leaves, and fresh baked cookies and pastries.
We think our guide is terrific. First, we love that he showed up in old traditional garb (which we learned he had specially made for this very purpose.) He is full of great information, very patient with his flock, and somehow he manages to get us all going in the same direction and is able to keep us somehow together.
I love this photo. The shopkeeper, trying to keep his street clean and orderly; the donkey, picking up garbage on the street impossible for a garbage truck (and with steps!) and our guide in his traditional garb.
I believe this is the shop that made the traditional outfit for our guide.
I am betting this is the fish market.
Now I am pretty sure it is the fish market!
We reboard the ship. We can’t get off again. We are really glad we chose the Casbah walking trip, we feel we got a good feel for that part of town. We never felt hostility, only curiosity, even though a huge crowd of Americans in groups of twenty-five on the narrow, normally quiet pedestrian streets must have been disruptive.
For many of the people who chose this trip, the terrain was challenging. It was stone, sometimes slippery due to sand or moisture. The steps were uneven, the stones rough and irregular. For many, the poverty was distressing, and the dirtiness and disorderlyness made them uncomfortable. I think, too, that it would have been good to let them do a little shopping, good for the tourists and good for the Algerian merchants, but the security concerns were so great that tourists were not given any time to interact with the people or the economy. Too bad. We learned that Algiers will not be included in future Morocco Malta and the Mediterranean trips.
I think, too, maybe it felt familiar to us because the slice of Algiers that we saw was very like Tunisia in the late 1970s, and it was at first a challenge to us, but we learned and adjusted.
Farewell, Algiers!
Morocco Malta and the Med: Tunisian Interlude
We aren’t just sailing away from Malta. We are sailing toward a part of our history, and please pardon that these photos are not that great; I don’t even know what kind of camera we were using and they are now very old.
We lived in Tunis for two years, courtesy of the US Government, wanting us to be linguistically and culturally more fluent. For me, it was scary at first – coming from Monterey, CA and entering into what seemed to be a very alien culture.
It began a great leap in opening our visions to other ways of thinking.
Below is our old villa – I am showing you this because when we went to visit it, it looked entirely different.
Our son went to a local Pre-School, Joie de Vivre, the Joy of Life 😊. This is his class photo.
AdventureMan on our back porch, where we often ate. We only had air conditioning in our bedrooms. The candelabras (there were two) were made for us in Binzerte.
My French teacher, Madame Huguette Curie invited us into her culture; she lived on Avenue Habib Bourgiba in a palatial apartment and had this seaside cottage where we could swim and picnic together. She was beautiful and cultured, and helped us learn about and love our time in Tunisia.
My parents came to visit, and we had a wonderful time showing them Tunisia. This was at the Ampitheatre in El Jem.
We camped in desolate areas – now built up – in our Volkswagon Bus.
Once a year, there was a Bedouin festival in Douz (where much of the original Star Wars was filmed.) We camped there, too, and have never been colder in our lives than in the Tunisian desert in late November.
The Camel Market in Nabuel was a great weekend favorite.
So my friends, on! on! We are on our way back to Tunis, 46 years later.
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