Food for Thought
October 10, 2021 - From the Team
The sun beams a little differently here than back home. The heat feels as if multiple little fires are dancing all over my skin. The July sun in Northern Iraq is no joke, but for some reason, I keep coming back.
It has been a while since my last trip. As I walk on these unpaved gravel-filled roads, memories start flooding through. I remember those late-night rooftop dinners that some of our Yezidi friends would cook for us. I felt so grateful for those moments of deeper conversations and their willingness to share their stories, their pain, and their hopes. The Yezidis are more than their struggles - they are the kindest, and most generous people group I have met.
Another memory flashes by. I can’t help but grin from ear to ear. I remember the Yezidi youth replicating the dances to “Baby Shark”, “Wheels on the Bus” and “Made for This” to hundreds of children during Habibi’s English camps. Watching these high school-aged Yezidi boys bring their community together and spread joy not only made my heart explode, but also made me so proud of them.
More memories come flying by, but as I take a deep breath I realize it is piping hot. I power walk back into the classroom. I pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. The pandemic has turned the world upside down and has changed so much of the traveling protocols. It took so much to get here, and yet was all so worth it.
I have been a pescatarian for 10 years. You heard right, a pescatarian - not Presbyterian. Some people may confuse the two, but I am here to clear the air. You might be wondering what a pescatarian is. It is someone who eats fruits, vegetables, grains and fish, but does not eat other meats like chicken, beef and pork.
And now you might also be wondering how a pescatarian can survive in the Middle East. I am here to tell you it has been more difficult than I imagined. There were times I wanted to crawl into a dark cave and hide as I ate at restaurants and people’s homes. Most were confused by this dietary restriction and I felt so terrible about having them worry over what I could eat or what to cook for me.
Over time, our Yezidi friends started to understand the foods I eat. While others ate biryani (a mixed rice dish with meat), chicken and kutilk (a type of Middle Eastern dumpling), they prepared fish and eggs for me. Food brings people together and I often felt a little down that I wasn’t able to try the homemade dishes they cooked.
My favorite memories mostly involve all of us sitting on the floor eating a meal together with our Yezidi friends. Throughout the pandemic, family dinners at home didn’t exist. Extended family gatherings were halted. But this time, as I sat eating with our Yezidi friends and enjoying the food they prepared, I felt a constant wave of joy and warmth fill my heart. I realized how much I missed eating together as a family. I wanted time to stand still. I wanted to forever capture this picture of people passing dishes, utensils clinging against plates, and people laughing and sharing about their day.
On this most recent trip, a Yezidi mother prepared and cooked lunch for our team. She made intricate Kurdish dishes that required a lot of time and food preparation. On our last day, she made vegetarian kutilk for me. I was shocked. I was speechless. No one had ever done this here. It was groundbreaking. The first bite was the most exciting and satisfying experience. I felt so cared for. The four years of wondering what it tasted like was over - I was eating the food that all my team members talked about and loved.
This trip may have felt too short, but there was no other place I’d rather be. It’s a place that will forever have a part of my heart. The Yezidis are family-oriented, kind, hospitable and most of all so easy to love.
Don’t believe me? Then come and meet them for yourselves. You might just want to keep coming back.