A Boy and a Donkey

This is Abo Sahber.

Abo Sahber and Hazeen. We paid the boy a couple of JD to let me take these 3 photos.

Abo Sahber and Hazeen again. Take note of the money in Hazeen's left hand.

I arrived in Jordan the night before these photos were taken. I was immediately overcome with emotion when I got there. I wasn't confident in my knowledge of the language. I was also nervous because I didn't know what to expect, I had never been outside of the United States. I didn't even know what I was supposed to do once I got off the plane, I figured I could just waltz outside and start looking for Manpartner. (he had already been there for almost 3 months, when I bought my plane ticket) (did I mention Manpartner is of middle eastern descent, specifically Jordanian? No? Well, he is.) Anyway, I got off the plane and followed the drones of people headed toward a lobby looking place, saw a bunch of locals getting in some line for Visas. I didn't look anything like the people in that line, so obviously didn't belong in it. (at this point I had no idea what a Visa was) I saw two swinging doors and headed for them, so I could find a familiar face, outside. Immediately, I was surrounded by armed military personnel, questioning me...Whoa! Que meltdown. I felt like running, knew I wouldn't make it far, sucked it up, mustered up the courage to spit out some of the native language, to tell them that I didn't speak the native language. (the first thing I learned to say was: "I don't speak Arabic", lazy American, but I thought it might be useful one day, turns out, I was right.) They told me, (in English, thank God!)that I needed a Visa to get into the country, and that I would have to pay for it. Okay. No problem, right? Would have been useful to know before I got there, but Manpartner never mentioned it, typical. I got to the Visa counter and they were quizzing me about where I was staying, (I didn't know), what city I would be in (I didn't know), Where Manpartners' family lived (I didn't know), How many days I would be there (I didn't know)...I had no way of calling Manpartner, my phone didn't have a signal. I didn't know it wouldn't work the ENTIRE time I was there. What? I didn't know!  I was thinking, sweet, they are never going to let me enter the country, they probably think I am some idiot American...and my phone doesn't work, I am screwed. They were right about the idiot American part. After about 20 minutes of quizzing, they stamped my passport and let me past the Visa counter. In actuality, I think they just gave up.
I chewed Manpartner a new one for not informing me.

Fast forward to the next day. Manpartner had planned some exploring through the city he grew up in. I had one agenda: ride a camel, and get a picture of me with a camel. In my eyes: proof that I had been to the Middle East. I got geared up, grabbed my camera, and we headed out.

En route to our destination, I spotted someone riding a donkey down the mountainside. I told Manpartner that I wanted to take a picture of it. He pulled over to the side of the road, and I started snapping photos. Manpartner yelled for the kid to come chat with him. As soon as the kid came closer, uncontrollable tears started to stream down my face. I was overcome with emotion. It hit me, he was just a child. His face was aged. His eyes were aged and appeared sad, despite the smile plastered to his face. I smiled at him through my tears, I am sure he thought I was completely nuts, crying, snapping photos of him. Him with his donkey, me with my camera, crying, snotting, and blubbering phrases to him in my broken Arabic, with an American accent. That was it. A few moments with a stranger...I tried explaining to Manpartner why I couldn't compose myself: All of these thoughts were going through my head of how privileged we are as Americans. Now though, looking back, I realize it was his eyes that had me behaving that way. Manpartner saw his eyes, and his face that day. I asked Manpartner to ask the boy what his donkey's name was. Abo Sahber, is what the boy told us. I never asked the boys name, but Manpartner gave him the name Hazeen. I asked him what it meant, loosely translated it means: sad face.