Before you begin to read this one, a little disclaimer or warning or whatnot: I seem to flippantly include some rather sad or horrible details into my stories without really thinking much about it. Keep in mind, despite the truth and the depressing reality of such information, I also hope you laugh a bit at the situation. This story is no exception.
So I’m sitting there lamenting how I have to go overseas to work in a lucrative position that would solve all my financial problems. I was lamenting at the idea of being so far from my wife and kids. Poor me! I received an opportunity to grow and improve my life because it would hurt a little.
The thing is, improving and growing always carries some pain. That is one of the fundamental facts of life. Our baby is growing new teeth, and it hurts. He has had some restless nights because he is having growing pains. Growth is good, and it hurts. That is why I stopped complaining about having to leave my family and head overseas to make some decent money.
And then I receive a message that I will leave for that job in late November inshallah. First, I was expecting to go in mid-October or just after and financially, that is precisely when I needed to leave. However, the truly upsetting part of the message is that inshallah at the end. And it didn’t just appear once; it appeared a second time with another essential part of the job situation. Two inshallahs in one email! Of course, if you don’t know the word, nor how I have seen it most often used, then you have no idea why one word would set my nerves aflame.
Inshallah is a word used far too often in the Middle East. Its literal translation is “god willing.” How it should be used is as follows:
Fan: Hey! You soccer players, beat that other team!
Player: Inshallah.
That is the proper use. How it is actually used though is to signify hopefully, maybe, and absolutely never going to happen. For example:
Me to students: I will see you tomorrow.
Students reply: Inshallah (meaning, maybe, if we feel like it, if we don’t stay up all night playing video games).
One time, I had a student in my office before class asking me questions about class and just generally discussing things to improve her English. When it was time to go to class, I stood up, and the following conversation occurred:
Me: Ok, time for class. Let’s go down together.
Student: I will see you there, inshallah.
Me: Well, it’s just downstairs and down the hall a bit. I’ll walk you there.
Student: Yes, mister, I will be there, inshallah.
Me: No, really, we can just go there now. No need for inshallah.
Student: Inshallah, mister, inshallah.
Me: So you’re skipping.
And sure enough, she skipped the class. These situations were not outliers; these were the everyday experiences as an expat in Bahrain, Oman, and Saudi Arabia while dealing with locals and people visiting those places from all over the region. While on a dive boat, the dive instructor asked a Filipino boat worker if he had filled all the air tanks for the trip, and the worker responded, “Inshallah.” That’s the sort of situation that will cause you to pause and triple check your equipment.
Inshallah. Well, that word written twice in an email sent me into a bit of a panic, and I hopped back online to apply for more jobs. Two jobs I submitted my information for in particular stand out for me though. I applied to Walmart to stock shelves, and I applied to the American University in Kabul (yes, the Kabul in Afghanistan).
The Walmart job application is something new for me, at least since earning my MFA and attempting to have a career in education. I am unflinchingly self-critical, and so when I began to show signs of despair at the idea, I internally smacked myself around a bit. Am I too good for Walmart? Is my MFA worth anything in the job market? Will I allow my pride to stop me from providing for my kids? I applied, and will happily accept if that is where things lead.
The Kabul application is a bit of a ritual for me. I applied back in 2016 when I lost my job in Korea. I applied again back in May when we knew we were leaving Saudi Arabia. And here I am applying again. I seem to be drawn to jobs in dangerous places because deep down, I feel that is all I can get. I was offered a position as the Head of the English Department at a new Catholic university in Erbil, Iraq, some years ago. They informed me that one of the perks was that I would get to meet the Pope. And I wouldn’t have to live on campus in some compound; I would live in a house on the outskirts of town. I used Google maps to look up where I would be living, and sure enough, there it was on the outskirts of town. I’d have a great view of the desert or whatever is there, and I would be the first person visitors saw when they came to Erbil. Of course, this was when ISIS controlled Mosul, and that meant that if they chose to cross that empty space between Mosul and Erbil, I would be the first person they encountered. I had to say no to that one.
This is what a BA in English, an MFA in Writing Poetry, and a CELTA (teaching English as a Second Language to adult students) certification have seemingly qualified me to do. Now, if you sat in poetry workshops as I did with Stephen Dobyns and Marie Howe, or if you had craft classes with Vijay Seshadri and Martha Rhodes, you probably are prepared for the hardships that warzones have to offer. Despite this fact, the warzones are not my preferred venue for helping students with English or for writing my own material. At the same time, I will take what I can get.
Humorously or seriously, I ask you: Is the current situation in the US any better than Afghanistan or Iraq? Shootings seem to occur regularly, or there’s the happy news story of a shooter being apprehended beforehand. Happy. That it only almost happened. And where do these shootings seem to occur so often? Walmart, the Kabul of America. How do I choose where to work if I factor in the dangers of the situation in such cases?
Remember that part at the top of this page where I said I also wanted you to laugh? That’s it, that’s the part right there…
