Home Sweet Home

When I envisioned my study-abroad experience in Syria pre-departure, pretty pictures of cross-cultural-communication wafted through my head: haggling at the textiles market for a cheaper carpet, sipping bitter Turkish coffee while discussing the meaning of the hijab, etc. What I did NOT imagine, however, was that this morning I would find myself crouching in front of a refrigerator, scrubbing furiously with the few cleaning supplies I had available at a mysterious black mold. That’s right, Damascus has made me domestic.

Allison and I, upon return from our winter vacation in Pakistan, decided that we’d had quite enough of the “authentic home-stay!” experience and so opted for the “let’s-try-to-find-an-apartment-in-a-foreign-language!” experience. Suffice it to say that it has been rewarding. For example (and this is unfortunately the way that I’ve starting evaluating all of my activities here), it forces you to learn entirely new sets of vocabulary previously inaccessible to your fledging Arabic tongue! There’s only so many times that I can go to the store and mimic scrubbing a floor before the word for mop is solidly wedged into my brain.

But by far the most rewarding experience has been realizing the benefit of chores. Yes folks, it’s the moment of clarity that every parent prays their children will find one day . . . and mine came while crouching in front of the moldy refrigerator. I stared at that black crust creeping out from the egg shelf long and hard, confused as to what the landlord meant when he said he’d “cleaned” the apartment, when the conviction set in: a soothing inner voice told me that I was to find the nearest home supplies store, purchase their bleach and detergent set, and pick up some steel wool on the side because those olive oil spills weren’t going to scrub themselves. Thank you oh soothing inner voice for guiding me during my times of need! I loaded up on household cleaners and returned home with an air of confidence in my step. Back in front of the fridge, however, I still felt a deep unease stirring within me. What the devil was the soothing inner voice trying to tell me now? Think Lizz, think for heaven’s sake! Kneeling in the kitchen, my loyal troop of cleaning supplies at my side, I furrowed my brow and waited for inspiration to hit again. Slowly, an image of my mother popped into my head (Hi Mom!) . . . as the picture became clearer, I saw her in our Iowa kitchen, kneeling before our refrigerator . . . reaching deftly behind it and . . . pulling out the plug! Yes! That’s it! I must unplug this abominable contraption before I can tame its inner beasts! Avast ho ye scurrilous microbes, we’ve come to topple your throne of terror and put an end to your fascist, freedom-hating ways!!!!!!!!!!!

Ah, isn’t my life exciting? But seriously, I realized that the soothing inner voice was actually just a manifestation of my childhood chores’ skills, resurfacing in the form of divine inspiration. I actually got warm fuzzy feelings as I recalled those countless Saturday mornings during which we’d scrub down the house and, upon completion, drive to the donut store for a delicious and sprinkle-topped reward. These are the life skills that we pass on from parent to child. Like a beast in the wild that teaches its cub how to hunt, we were instructed in the art of cleanliness and how to behave, well, like human beings. Perhaps my mental faculties of logic and deduction would’ve eventually helped me unlock the mysteries of how to clean our refrigerator, but without a doubt my childhood lessons have provided me with priceless guidance. Did instinct tell me to hang these blankets out in the sun to get rid of their musty odors? Certainly not! It was years of returning from summer camp and watching my father assemble our sleeping bags on the clothesline which showed me the way. I could enumerate countless other tips absorbed from childhood, but I wish to avoid boring you and sounding too much like Martha Stewart. So instead, I wrap this entry up with the several conclusions I have reached from this experience:

1) My children are definitely going to do weekly chores.

2) I must sincerely thank my parents for raising me to be self-sufficient (I love you t.Some and d.Some!).

3) I’ve leaving the bathroom for Allison to tackle . . . this fridge has provided me with more than enough food for thought!


(caption for above picture: Me in furious house-cleaning-mode! [Owais, Zoe, and Lena - note my excellent t.w.s position . . . I can hear the t.w.s. theme song playing as I type!]