"As-Salaamu Aleikum, Ya Sheik"

The dust I just wiped off of my black shoes was quickly replaced as I stepped out of the office building onto the dirt-covered sidewalk. I was following the two other guy interns and the male PLC staff as we headed to meet a local sheikh, a close friend and growing partner of Jeremy Courtney. Rumor and near legend surrounded the man now known as "The Sheikh." He founded and directs a growing local charity that cares for Iraqi orphans. His family name illicits respect because of the great work of his father and grandfather. If nothing else all the PLC staff has a great amount of respect for this man of faith, and in turn so will I.

...and fruitstands

            The street that passes under the peeling white, wrought-iron gate that poses as the entrance to the bazaar of Sulaimaniyah comes to a point together with an once-seeming parallel street forming the letter Y. On what must be called a median, just before the actual intersection, sits a bright orange, three-sided fruit juice stand. The bright orange of the booth stands out against the constant barrage of the earth-toned color scheme that dominates the Kurdish-Iraqi urban landscape. 

Juice swirls around the plastic containers that look like cousins of the lemonade dispensers inside chik-fil-a. Blenders speckled with remnants of fresh kiwi, carrot, and oranges share the remaining counter space with stacked melons, whole carrots, and unpeeled oranges. Bazaar-goers come to these stands as an alternative to the universally loved cha (tea). This specific stand has a total of three staff members that never share a shift. The young, sort of shy Hama, who is working on a full fledged goat-tee that will fill if given just a bit more time. He may or may not have an older brother who helps run the stand. Masjdi knows just enough english to interpret hand signals asking for good food. He knows of a shady restaurant in a hidden nook within the Bazaar full of running cockroaches and the best rice, bean, soup, lamb combination discovered so far inside all of Iraq. 

          The last staff member of the soon to be famous Great Bazaar Fruitstand is only known in Kurdish as Mr. Mustache. The legend of the mustache alone secured my loyalty to this fruit stand, but it helps that these guys are the most friendly faces I have met in the tangled labyrinth, locally referred to as "the Bazaar." 

Buildings and Fruitstands...without the fruit stands

From the roof of our office building

So, the main reason it has been a couple of days since I've written anything is I don't know what to put down. I think there is so much I'm taking in that I don't really know how to process it all, and it seems that throwing it on paper will look about like a Jackson Pollack painting…without the international acclaim. So, I'm going to start simple. I will walk you to work.

Its Sunday, because we start our work week on Sunday (I wore a tie, so I felt cool). With the strap of my stolen travel bag across my chest creasing the front of my white shirt, I walk sock-shod toward the rack of dirt covered shoes in the walk way leading to the door at the front of the house. This particular Sunday, my blue slacks are still clean so I grab
the caramel brown leather loafers that were too small for

Update #1

This is the start of workday number four here in the semi-autonomous Kurdish region of Iraq and and I'm sitting in an office staring at my reflection in my own desk! (Technically there are three other chairs at "my own desk," which usually makes it a table but we're gonna keep that on the down low...)
In four days I have already experienced just about the extent of all Iraqi weather.

Turkiye!

So, I went to Turkey. Also, contrary to the photo below I was in absolute awe of the Hagia Sophia and completely blown away by the depth and ecclesial significance of the place, even though I was straight running through snapping pics with my phone.

في الموت هو الحياة