I remember studying in a Linguistic Pragmatics class that human conversation can be likened to a play. Meaning, we take up various roles in the conversation and fulfill them in the ways we talk. There’s the boss and employee; the buyer and seller; the student and mentor; and the helpless foreigner and faithful guide. Human conversation and experience can definitely be likened to a play sometimes, and this play was all too interesting to watch unfold as me and a fellow worker friend navigated finding a new apartment in a city of twenty-million people over the last couple days.
To say the experience was a little stressful was an understatement. Both of our previous lodgings had been arranged for us; so not only was this the first time either of us were buying our own place, but we were doing it entirely in a foreign language we have only been immersed in for 8 months. We’ve both come back to the country fresh of a break in which we recast and reengaged the vision for our city, including a desire to be among the people and language we’re hoping to learn and minister through. We basically had nothing on our side but a lot of prayer, ideas, and at least one faithful Yemeni friend. Our play went a little like this:
1) Word of Mouth: That’s just how most things work around here. Jobs, apartments, you name it. Sure there’s pseudo-craig’s list type things (Craig’s list doesn’t get any less sketchy in foreign countries), and even some western style realtor companies should we want to live in a posh apartment near an embassy. But honestly, I didn’t come overseas to live near embassies and a McDonalds. We want to be with the people, so we had to find an apartment like the people do: by talking, mediating, and negotiating. For these latter points, we trusted a dear friend a met when I first came here, a Yemeni man named G, who is also beginning to learn to follow our Shepherd. G quite patiently took us over bridge and through dusty streets to check on any lead we might’ve had for apartments, all while letting me crash at his place in m temporary homelessness. By G’s lead, we eventually ended up in neighborhood that literally translates as “City of the Youths” in the office of an interesting character known as the Simsar.
2) The Simsar: I need to be honest, the Simsar is kind of the used car salesmen of apartment rentals in this city. I don’t mean to say they’re all bad, but you do have to be careful. Even with G at our helm, I was a little uneasy. This was when that linguistic play I mentioned at the beginning came on strong. The simsar guided us to an empty apartment. He would, of course, go on extravagantly about how great and clean the apartment was, how well everything works, and how many tons of people were lined up to buy this place so we needed to act fast. G would point out little flaws and concerns, and take little jabs at the simsar, it was like some kind of verbal Arabic fencing match. I couldn’t follow every word, but it seems the Simsar would suggest a price high enough for G to accuse him of thievery, G would counter with a price low enough for the Simsar to suggest his children would starve on that little money, and in that manner we arrive in the sweet middle.
3) Welcome Home: A Yemeni, a Sudani, a foreigner speaking Yemeni Arabic, and a foreigner speaking Egyptian Arabic all try to reach an agreement and do paper work. Still waiting for the punchline of the joke, but in the meantime we have a new apartment. It’s got a view with some trees (which says a lot in this city), space for us to hopefully house refugees or any locals needing a place, and it’s neck deep in the culture and city we want to pour into. Staying honest: we’re excited and a little freaked out. But, we trust that the Lord is the one moving and planting us. We’re called to abide in him and watch as he draws men to himself, and maybe, just maybe, we’ll get to be a part of him doing it in the “City of the Youths”.