Notes from Erbil – Part 2 (Yara the Water Carrier)
The problem with solution sales cycles is that they can be endless. A question leads to a suggestion which brings forth a recommendation which further leads to a workshop which generates more questions which…..well….you get the drift. Sometimes, miraculously, the client “gets it” and thereon the cycle progresses swiftly. Other times, one finds oneself in a vicious circle of recurring engagements, nightmarish and inextricable.
I have a bad feeling about this one. The familiar
signs of expectation, acceptance, participation, excitement, and achievement
were simply not forthcoming. Somewhere in the sequence I lost my audience and
am furious with myself. I should
have performed better. My colleagues are generously trying to cheer
me up but it’s not working; we are collectively dejected. “I have failed” I wallow,
“Short of a sign from God, nothing can brighten this miserable day”. My colleagues are exchanging furtive
glances; “A bit over the top, isn’t she?” I can hear them thinking. Little do they, or I, know that a
proverbial sign-arrow has just been released from God’s blessing-bow, and that
my dark skies are about to receive a silver lining.
As we shuffle into our seats at The Cedar Tree, a
young girl scurries up, bends over the table to wipe it down, then straightens
up while tucking the washcloth into her apron, and finally stands poised with
pen and paper ready to take our order. Her attitude is cheerful, her conduct
one of deference with dignity. She is short and slim of stature, barely 16 or
17 years old I imagine. As she
introduces herself in lilting Arabic and halting English, her spontaneous smile
spreads uninhibited across her face as a child’s often does. “Marhaba bekum fi mutamin Sayyiditi wa
Sayyidi….I am Yara, please to take order”. Other than the fact that she is Omran’s employee, which by
definition lends itself to all kinds of stories, she is unremarkable…except for
her eyes. They have captured the
travelling smile and are holding it securely, but just beneath their brightness
lurks a restless energy agitating for release. She seems oblivious to it and
goes earnestly about her chores, but there it lingers like a sinister secret accentuating
her otherwise cheerful bearing with an element of longing, as if she remains
incomplete, unfulfilled.
Suddenly, and fiercely, she swats a fly that lands in
my friend's plate, dead. I expect Yara to apologize profusely. She doesn’t. In fact, she seems extremely pleased
with her conquest and, holding the plate up, is now observing her victim at
close proximity. She bursts into an infectious giggle and soon has all of us
laughing too. Promising not to
swat another one in our vicinity, she takes away the compromised plate of food
to replace it. She should be
fearful of reprimand, but this is Omran’s world….one does not sweat the small
stuff here.
Yara’s story is infinitely more calamitous than a
mere fly-swatting incident, and while one can understand her dismissal of minor
mishaps, it is difficult to comprehend her joyful demeanor along the way. Omran the proprietor, storyteller,
self-appointed protector and rehabilitator narrates her story.
Yara is Syrian. “I am the water carrier” she quips, “it’s what my name
means.” In a country suffering one of the highest water poverty levels in the
world, her name conveys prosperity, hope and abundance and is, therefore, very
popular. True to her name, Yara has carried water for her family since
childhood. Her siblings, Ameera
and Nabil, and she had made a game of it as they trekked to and from the water
filtration plant constructed by the municipality, to fetch water. For a few hours every day, the faucets
spewed forth sufficient water to fulfill the community’s needs, albeit inadequately. The rest of the day they remained
miserly and dry.
The filtration plant was soon claimed by ISIS and
the community’s access to it became greatly limited. The day the unit commander took Ameera away to be married to
him, he offered Yara’s father unlimited access to the plant since they were now
related. Yara’s father rejected
the offer and demanded that Ameera be returned. The unit commander would have none of it.
Yara was just 12 years old and her parents feared
for her safety. After all, Ameera
was not much older and they could not save her. Those were particularly distressing days for Yara. She realized
that one could do without things and still be happy, but to exist in a realm of
insecurity and remain happy...this was impossible. Her parents were neither
well nor wealthy so instead of attempting flight as a family, they arranged for
12 year old Yara to escape. She traveled with neighbors and relatives,
successfully escaped ISIS and arrived in Turkey. At 13, she started working and
sending money to her parents in Syria.
She wanted only one thing in life - to be with her family again. Had she
made Turkey her permanent home, perhaps her dream would never have been
realized. But God’s blessing-bow
was stretched and the arrow it launched took spunky little Yara from Turkey to
Iraqi Kurdistan, Erbil specifically.
She was the most emaciated and destitute refugee to take shelter in the
Grand Bazaar. Old Omran was
informed about her fragile state and he took her in, conjuring up a spectacular
transformation yet again.
Yara is 16 now, works at The Cedar Tree and has
managed to bring her family to Erbil.
A frail young girl has been the savior of her family, and happy to be
so. A spectacular transformation has occurred (take a bow Omran!). For someone
fleeing ISIS, Erbil at the border with ISIS staring it down is still paradise. Yara
shares the spirit of all immigrants – to be liberated from demons - but unlike
others seeking a better life, all she wants is freedom from insecurity. “I
don’t want to look over my shoulder all the time” she tells me, “I don’t want
to be the unit commander’s wife.”
Her eyes grow restless as she speaks, and I recognize the darkness lurking
within. “I don’t know if I can
bring Ameera here. She may be waiting for me.” Yara is incomplete, she remains
unfulfilled – but Omran has coaxed her into a smile that lingers on her lips,
climbs up her face and brightens her eyes. Her generosity of spirit fascinates me. I am suddenly released from my own
demons, minor though they may be in comparison.
I remain intrigued by Yara, captivated by her story.
I will return to Erbil and eat at The Cedar Tree, if only to be sure that Yara
is well, swatting flies and smiling all the way to her eyes.
Image credit: Pexels stock imagery.Will post a pic of young Yara soon.
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