Ramadan 1433 - Mubarek: Castle Master

I met Mubarek last year on a visit to some very cool castles just outside of Amman, Jordan. I was happy to get out of the city and visit these local landmarks, even more so understanding it might be the last time I would be able to travel and spend time with an old friend. We had a lovely time, and it was a nice trip to mark the end of many such journeys. Despite the fact that I was focused on the precious time I had left with my friend, I had the great pleasure to meet a new one - guide extraordinaire Mubarek.

My friend had organized the day trip and had recruited a colleague, another English teacher, along for the trip. The teacher introduced us to Mubarek, who was a student in his ESL class by night, a talented castle guide by day, and maybe, just maybe, Joe Pesci's long lost cousin. He was a whirlwind from the moment we met him, and he didn't go more than a minute or two without disparaging his own English, which I found charming in its own staccato, eccentric rhythm. By the end of the day we were fast friends, and I smile broadly each and every time I think of him.



Mubarek took us to four places; two castles, an ancient road house, and to lunch. Through it all, he was in charge. Gracious and polite, he barely contained his enthusiasm as he took us from place to place, and introduced to other guides and acquaintances. He regaled us with facts, details, and hokey jokes that I adored. His energy was boundless, and we followed him around waiting for his next surprise. He narrated the journey perfectly (despite his constant apologies), even took us to places that were cordoned off and marked "dangerous." We felt honored with the access, and he knew it. He chuckled, made more jokes, spelled our names in Arabic in the dirt, refused to let us pay for lunch, and even introduced us to a group of his colleagues having dinner. Short in stature only, he was the man everywhere he went.

Later in the afternoon, after learning I was a Muslim, Mubarek invited me to pray with him at the ancient road house in the middle of the desert. He was very patient with me as we made our preparations and then prayed. I was touched by his tenderness and concern, something I still struggle with being raised in this culture as a strong, distant male. I have so much yet to learn from men like Mubarek, men able to live their lives honestly and emotionally. Despite our short visit, I will remember him the rest of my life.

I am indebted to Mubarek for more than these lessons too. On what seemed destined to be a bitter-sweet day, more bitter than sweet, he gave me a very pleasant and kind memory to ameliorate the loss the day would eventually come to represent. And as the imbalance slowly shifts, the pain softens with each return to that adventure with my pal mugging in stunted doorways and forbidden vestibules.  He will never know any of this of course, but I do. I do.