When do days turn out like you expect?

Today I decided to borrow Kendelyn the Photographer’s camera. Since I cannot visit the historic Christian community in Mosul, I decided to find one here in Sulaimaniyah. I had heard that there was an Arabic speaking Chaldean Church across the big street that runs through my neighborhood. So, I grabbed the camera, a journal and Hemingway and set out at 10 this morning hoping to find the church or to get lost. Either scenario would make for a good day. You can’t say you have known a city until you can say you have gotten lost in it.

Grabbing the camera, I wrapped the black strap around my wrist because I am petrified that I will drop it and walked east. Clouds of dust covered the city blocking the direct light from the sun, while managing to hold in the heat creating a sauna-like effect. I wandered around the neighborhood, walking slowly and trying to get a feel for the camera. The stone houses and walls (fences) that seem to be everywhere in the Middle East gave a sense of adventure to the morning stroll through the neighborhood. Receding further into the neighborhood, I began to hear a call to prayer. This would be altogether normal except there was no nearby mosque. I began to follow the sound and came upon a long rectangular tent with men inside. They were standing, sitting and drinking tea. I sat on a curb across the street to listen to the voice singing in Arabic. A few minutes of stares from the old men under the tent convinced me to continue my search for the Chaldean church.

A number of turns in the neighborhood led me to a huge area of leveled ground for construction. Across from the empty lot was a lagit soccer stadium. So far, I had only seen soccer fields within large cages similar some public tennis courts. This field had concrete seating, manicured grass, a dressing room and stadium lights.

By this time, I figured I was on the border of the Rizgari neighborhood and needed to return back west only headed a little further south. I was still hoping to find the Chaldean church.

As I turn the corner of a rock-faced wall I see bright colored soccer balls hanging from an open steel gate. This is an obvious indicator of a toyshop. It was odd. This is the first shop I had seen in any neighborhood. Usually these shops are all together on one street in the bazaar, so to see one by itself was just…odd. As I walked by and snapped a picture of the bright colored balls, a man walked outside.

We started talking and he spoke very little English, but was a wonder at “smiles and nods.” Halfway through our conversation that only he apparently understood, I began to ask about the Chaldean church in Rizgari. His response was that he would go get his son, whose name was Hastiar.

Hastiar spoke English well and began asking his father if there was an old Chaldean church nearby. I shouldn’t have used the word old. He said there was an old church in a neighborhood called Saboon Karan, and that they would take me to it. I tried to explain that there was a church nearby, but it didn’t seem to translate.

Ali, the father, took Hastiar and I to the bus stop where we waited for the bus and got to know each other, while waiting for the bus.