The Joy of “عادي”

Sometimes you learn a new word and take such a liking to it that it comes to the top of your mental vocabulary list, always ready and raring to be used. Such was the case with the word “عادي” (pronounced 3adi, the 3 symbolizing a letter with a burping sound coming up from the back of your throat). This word can be used in many situations and can bear the meaning of “It’s normal, don’t worry about it; it happens”.

About a month ago I set out from my house with the essential goal of buying a pair of shoes for my daughter. After visiting numerous little street-shops and finding many kinds of shoes with undesirable characteristics such as blinking lights (“WHY don’t you like them??”), uncomfortable soles, wrong sizes, etc I caught sight of a pair hanging up on the familiar wire mesh by a nail poked in the sole. “Ahh,” I breathed, standing on tip-toes and pulling down the shoe from the nail where it was hanging. It was much closer to the kind of shoe I was looking for; similar to an sandal, breathable, easy to put on, not too fancy but very nice looking. The salesgirl stared uncomprehendingly at me. “No, no, no!” She said with horror and shock all over her face (in Arabic of course). “This shoe is for boys!” Her look said it all: “Are you really as dumb as that??”

عادي, ma’am. “3adi.” Calm down. It’s normal. Everybody makes mistakes like this, right? Right?

The other day I was trying to enter a store, my bag on one arm and my toddler in the other. It was a stressful day of trying to find some things I needed at the market. Well, I decided impulsively at the last minute that I didn’t want to go into this particular shop after all (and face the insistent shopkeepers when I didn’t see anything I wanted to buy.) I turned to leave, only to jab my bony elbow right into the chest of a man squeezing into the door beside me! I don’t know who was more surprised, he or I. (In this culture, men and women never touch each other, not even by accident - or that’s what the look on his face said!). The poor man’s expression was priceless as he clutched his chest and looked at me like I was an alien. “Asfe, asfe!” I apologized, feeling about the size of a cockroach. “عادي” he declared, releasing me to continue my shopping endeavor. I got out of there as fast as I could, with the delightful word, “عادي” ringing in my head.

To continue the saga of buying shoes for Joy, I actually found a pair of sandals that were exactly what I was looking for. (With the help of a very eager gentleman!) He gave the box to Joy, and then took us to the cashier counter at which nobody was sitting, to complete our transaction. He put the box of shoes into a nice pink bag and gave it to Joy, who was absolutely delighted. “How much?” I asked him fluently, pulling out my wallet. “Seven,” he responded, as I pulled out a ten JD bill to pay with. Suddenly I noticed an older gentleman to my right and slightly behind me, moving towards me. I glanced at him, noting that he was holding out three 1JD bills in my direction. Confusion entered my being as I clutched my ten dinar bill, my mind racing. My first thought was that maybe he was a kind man who wanted to help pay for Joy’s shoes! But then I saw a very thick wad of cash in his left hand, and knew that he must be The Living Moving Cash Register and was offering me the change for my ten dinar. I glanced back at the young guy who helped us find the right shoes and from all the clues I could collect in the situation assumed that I was to pay the older man instead of him. My confusion seemed to be funny to them, and as we left they all enjoyed a good laugh. At my expense! (Thankfully not at the expense of my wallet. That has happened before too though.) And once again, I hoped deep inside that one day shopping experiences would become “عادي” to me and I would learn to fit in and be normal and not merely bring a cart load of guffaws into my new community.

The search for what is “عادي“ here continues every single day. 

My husband told my sister and I that we should go to such-and-such a street and find a juice shop he had passed by and thought we would enjoy. So one day, in the heat of the afternoon, we set off to have an adventure. After praying that God would give us energy to walk until we found the juice shop, we locked up the house and embarked. 

I hope you understand that when you go to do something new in a new culture, you don’t just “go to the juice shop”; you “embark from the house”, leaving comfort zones behind in the soft light of coziness. As we walked in the afternoon heat, I navigated us through a street crossing to the more-shaded side of the street. Just about then, a neighbor lady saw us and came over to chat. “How are you! How is it going?” We exchanged greetings. After the pleasantries and small talk, she got serious: “Why are you walking in the hot sun with your little sweetie?!” She demanded. I quickly sorted through my Arabic linguistic possibilities and settled on: “I know, it sure is hot today, extremely! That’s why I’m walking on this side of the street, away from the sun.” I looked at her, aiming for an aura of confidence, yet secretly hoping I would get a “pass” by my eloquent response. She looked from one side of the road to the other, and then, convinced that what I was doing was “عادي” after all, she bid us a cheery goodbye and went on her way.

We kept walking. And walking. And walking. When you’re on a new street, it can feel like even a short distance takes a long while to manage. And when you’re walking in the sun on a new street, the street can feel almost as long as forever. However, as we were nearly passing a bright yellow store, my sister pointed out all the fruit lined up inside and I quickly realized: we’ve found our place!

We entered, taking in our surroundings quickly. There were two counter displays colorfully arranged with a variety of fruits. There were two men behind a cash register counter, staring at us silently. There was a room full of empty tables and chairs and two unmarked, swinging wooden doors. With stifled giggles of “I-don’t-know-what’s-appropriate-but-let’s-try”, we slid into chairs at a table to the side. Picking up the menu, I glanced down the long list of options, immediately overwhelmed. How to know which one I want....much less, which is which? I could’ve just blindly put my finger down and picked something random but I really wanted to use this chance to practice my vocabulary. I was still laboriously poring over the squiggly writing when the glass doors opened and in came three teenage girls. They were giggling nervously, and didn’t seem well acquainted with the place. They glanced at us, then sat down at a nearby table and started looking at a menu and around the room. They got attention from the guys behind the desk like we did not, however, and the one fellow came to them ever so helpfully, escorting them through two swinging wooden doors into another room. I had seen those doors and wondered what was behind them. My instincts told me it was a room where the ladies could sit and enjoy their time; but my mind reasoned that I didn’t want to barge in and discover it to be a managerial office! However, now that there were other girls in that area we picked up our things and went through the swinging doors behind them. 

I finally decided to just order a drink made out of my favorite fruits whose names I already knew. Since a waiter didn’t appear at our table for a good while, I took the menu to the cash register counter and began. “Hello, I would like a strawberry mango orange fruit drink.” The man cocked his head and mumbled something that sounded like “I don’t see that on my list” as he looked through options on his computer. Finally he looked up and nodded at me. “One medium size,” I requested with a bit of a smile. “Without sugar.” It was one of the first times I had ordered something at an eatery here, and I felt for all the world like an eight year old ordering at a restaurant for the first time! (Except the eight year old would’ve probably skipped the “without sugar” part.) Feeling a bit like I had done a great enough deed for the day in simply getting to the right store and ordering something, I decided to just order one drink for Rachel, Joy and me to share. After paying, I went back into the ladies section to wait, hoping I didn’t look too “un-عادي”.

Soon enough, our drink arrived and we slipped our three straws into its smooth coolness. Between sips, we laughed at ourselves, especially when we noticed the three teenagers at the table in front of us thought we were quite amusing. 

“What’s your name,” I called to interrupt a stare and invite some conversation. It worked! Soon, not only did we have a conversation going, but for a bonus Rachel was trying to keep her bug-eyes from exploding as a bite of chocolate-soaked-waffle dangled in front of her mouth from her new friend’s fork!

We ended up being persuaded by many invitations to join them at their booth where they had two plates holding two gigantic waffles drenched in caramel and chocolate sauce. 

Eventually, we were able to persuade them that we were ready to leave, and exited the juice shop feeling as though we had some real friends. 

On the way home, Rachel and I debriefed together about our stretching juice shop experience. “Hannah! She gave me a bite from her own fork! Imagine if that would happen in America!” [translated: in America, that would NOT be عادي.] She continued in dumbfounded amazement. “I’m just imagining sitting in Taco Bell and the person in the booth behind me turns around and offers me a bite of their food from their fork! That would never, never, never happen in America!” I laughed, as I enjoyed replaying the juice shop scene in my mind in the eyes of my teenage sister. 

I was intrigued and delighted to realize that the juice shop experience of gaining new friends didn’t strike me as completely odd. Life has given me plenty of experiences to help me trade in some of my American personal space bubble for what most of the rest of the world considers appropriate, I suppose. It’s really amazing how in time one can adapt and learn new boundaries of عادي.

“You know,” Rachel mused, “In America, we never would’ve shared forks, but we also likely never would’ve become friends with the people at the table beside us. It’s kinda neat that we could make friends so easily.” I agreed. 

From finding shoes, to finding friends, the process is different in a new country. But when the “عادي” of a new country starts becoming truly “عادي” for you, it carries a joy with it that you could never quite gain through the “normal” of home. That’s the joy I’m looking for.