Today was the second time I genuinely felt fear since I made my decision to come here. The first time was in the airport in Germany while waiting for my final connecting Lufthansa flight to Beirut. I hurried to the gate and was confronted by a sea of olive-tone faces and a language my heart recognized but my head did not understand. I found a seat and made myself as small as possible. The women traveling were mostly attired in head coverings and clustered with their families as they quieted children and waited patiently for the call to board. I looked around and thought to myself, Why am I, a single woman, heading to a country by myself? Even though I grew up here, for a split second the media and countless books I'd read took over and told me how to react. Logic struggled to prevail.
The second time happened when I set off down the hill to pick up some groceries for the week. After six weeks of eating oily salty food in the cafeteria, I'd decided to prepare my own lunches so I could eat healthier. I turned one of the many winding corners that led me down the serpentine street and looked up to see a dark green camouflage truck barreling straight for me. I stepped carefully to the side and slowed my pace. I noted the young men spilling out, the serious looking guns, and my heart began to pound.
Earlier that morning I'd been sharing a delightful meal with several dear friends from church. As any gathering inevitably did, the topic steered towards safety as we agreed that the media hyped events to make it appear as if the country was constantly in a state of insecurity. This was not true as we all noted. We said in amazement that it seemed safer here than in European countries with the activities that have been happening there lately. Then one person said, but what if something were to happen? Would there be protocol to follow?
A moment after the truck passed, my heart rate increased. Where were they going and why were they headed towards the university? There were only two more forks in the road before the final stretch that led to the campus. I tried to push the anxious thoughts to the back of my mind but they were reluctant to leave.
Two hours later I found myself trudging slowly back up the mountain. My handbag and both hands were laden with fresh produce and necessities such as a can opener and peeler. I was tired but I tried to be grateful for the opportunity to get some exercise in the cool afternoon sun. Then a family passed me, recognized me, and slowed to offer me a lift. They were also heading to the campus so I gratefully accepted, deciding that walking 3/4 of the way up the hill would suffice for exercise that day. We sped off but soon approached the last complex of apartment buildings before the university property began.
I saw young men in camouflage standing on both sides of the streets, weapons casually hanging by their sides yet alert. One imperceptibly nodded for us to slow down so we did. The soldier asked my friend where he was going and he explained that we lived on the campus and what we did there. The soldier asked the question again and my friend repeated his reply. He peered into the car, I thanked God that my Islander heritage had blessed me with Middle Eastern looking features, he nodded once more and we sped off.
Is that normal, to have them here? I asked my friends. No, they replied, but we hope they come more often. Apparently the corner was a popular place for drug dealers, the seriousness of which I had not realized. I'd seen young people there late at night, when we drove back onto campus, and they gathered at the corner and also at the lookout point just before the gate. I thought they were drinking and smoking and that alone made me uneasy but now I was learning that it was even more dangerous than I'd assumed.
In that moment, I realized that my initial moment of fear was ill-founded. Granted, we fear that which we do not understand. Having friends who lived in the area, could speak the language, and were comfortable with having a military presence to deter drug dealers was helpful to dissipate that fear. The ones I had feared at first were actually there to protect us and for that I was thankful.
Now for those who read this article and get worried, please don't. I trust God to keep me safe and I do my part too. I only walk up and down the hill during broad daylight if I'm going by myself. Any trips after dark are with friends and in a car. And once we're down in the melee of life off the hill, the only thing I fear is whether we will manage to squeeze between the two cars in front of us as the driver honks madly! This is all part of the adjustment process as I learn how to live in a new country as an adult.
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