Week Three

by meganjazelle

I wish I knew what to write you, but every time I try to think of something I end of deleting it. It’s so hard for me to believe that it has already been a full three weeks here. I’m looking at my summer realizing that there are only eight more weeks.

And because of this I am heavyhearted. I don’t want to leave…

My days right now are spent working with children at our center’s English Camp. It’s been an interesting experience, especially considering they do not enforce discipline on any of the children until they are eight or older. While I prefer teaching English to adults, I love the little children here and I’ve enjoyed experiencing their energy. Each of them are precious and their personalities are amazingly vibrant (even despite the language barrier).

A short term team from New Jersey has come in to help teach English and because of this my days are well planned out. While my days are planned, this also means I get to experience some of what the city has to offer.  I’ve been out bowling, visited a few of the local restaurants, city tours, but yesterday I went to the local “Red Prison Museum.”

Now, to back things up a little… I am in a war torn country. I have heard stories from the news and from my father, but your perspectives change when you hear it from local people.  Suddenly war stories come to life as you listen to them speak of family members are killed and as they retell their move from village to village trying to escape Saddam Hussein… As they make sure to tell you in vivid detail.

This museum is actual one of Saddam Hussein’s prisons. You walk from room to room and explore the torture chambers and solitary confinement cells he once used. You grip the jail bars on the windows, you see where the hooks were in place for the torture, and you can sit at the desk that was used for “electrical” shock punishment. Along the outside, holes are inside of the walls showing the signs of war ware and tear… All while your tour guide tells his own personal stories.

The longer I am here, the more need I see for love and restoration.

The longer I am here, the more love I feel for these people and this country.

I hope this post shed some light on my life here. There is so much that goes on, but when it comes to writing it all down I seem to lose the words.

Take care, ya’ll. Keep me in mind, please.

One of the tanks left over from the war.

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