Seat Belts and Disability

‘Inti helwa, bis inti zei akhtie’ urges the young man enthusiastically raising his right hand, his fingers simultaneously pressing back and forth in my direction. The other guests seated in the welcoming room of the dilapidated house in the Ghror, one of the poorest areas of Jordan, erupt in laughter. The distinction with which this young man specifies his brotherly love for me serves as a reference of respect, and more importantly reassurance he is not hitting on me. Literally translated, I have just been told, ‘you are beautiful, but only as a sister’. Not thirty seconds later, the young man, Samer, jumps to his feet, raises both hands in the air and begins to shout ‘bismillah, rahman, al rahim’, the first line of the Al Fatha prayer, and also the beginning of the Qur’an. Now repeating the same sentence incessantly, he shouts violently at least twenty times, as I watch in horror, and my translator and driver urge him to continue, reciting, ‘mashallah’ or ‘how beautiful God has made this’. When he finally ceases, he takes a bow and returns to the large colorful cushion covered with tribal fabric from which he leapt. ‘Do you know what I prayed?’ he asked in a voice at the same octave as his previous chanting, chuffed at his performance. This time, his hand extends in the direction of my translator. ‘And to the second American, I praaaaaaayed for you to become President of America.’

‘Mashallah, mashallah’, recite his parents and my translator simultaneously. Unsure if I am in awe or shock, I sit motionless. In the five minutes we have been in his home, I have not had a chance to ask a single question, although I am certainly getting an idea of what I am now dealing with. The next performance arrives with the same randomness of the first two. Slightly more at ease having survived the first two outbursts, we sit patiently as my translator whispers in my ear that we are being received with the traditional guest song calling for guests to be greeted with tea and food. Something which I have come to know far too well, but was never graced with a song too dictating how guests ought to be treated. Finally after having been regaled with these performances, his mother indicates it is time for him to be silent moving closer to him and begins to speak to us in Arabic.

‘He is a very passionate, smart and excited young man. It was not always like this you know’, she says pointing to the 8” scar crossing his scalp just above his left ear, visible by his military short hair, ‘when he was 6 he fell out of the back of a pick up truck. ‘Before that he was normal’ she says with the smile only a mother could use to cover a tragic situation with sweetness. ‘We have seen every doctor in Jordan since his accident. I just pray one day we can save enough money to send him to the States, they have the right surgery to fix him there’. The United States serving as a glass palace beacon of hope for a family now in denial that their son, now 17 will be mentally retarded for the rest of his life because of a lack of awareness of the importance of seat belts when he was a child.

Over the course of my interview questions on this home visit to evaluate services for youth with disabilities, I am incessantly interrupted by the boisterous teenager. From sharing his knowledge of ‘other languages’, such as Syrian, Egyptian and Lebanese dialects, to sharing his love for President Obama, he indicates a curiosity and knowledge of the world beyond what I have observed in many other young people in the same age bracket, ones who will never face the challenges he does. While Samer dreams of going to the US to be fixed, he indicates he realizes he will never marry, but dreams at night of a pretty wife and that he can walk properly. Taking three times as long as the other visits, I do not mind one bit, and secretly relish and drink in his zest for life. As we go to exit the house, I extend my hand to shake his, which he then kisses. The entire group scolds him, he explodes in laughter, ‘ just as my sister, just as my sister’ he says, having clearly been scolded for the same behavior.

Before I walk out the door, I take one final look at his T-Shirt.

‘I can only please one person a day. Today isn’t your day and tomorrow’s not looking good either’

Samer not only made my day, he made makes an imprint on everyone he meets, with his spirit and unanimously positive attitude, he helps everyone, every day. Whether he wants to or not, he serves as a constant reminder for what can go wrong if children are not safely buckled into a motor vehicle.

Originally posted on: www.stilettosinthesand.com