Home Sweet Home?

Four cynical Russian nuns sit around a dinner table, laughing at the expense of the young American girl before them. The girl’s mind is elsewhere. She is trying in vain to hold her nose without using her hands, so as to resist the temptation to regurgitate the cold, slimy concoction of mushrooms and other, unidentifiable, objects that Sister Cruel has offered her. This dish must be left over from the hellacious rule of Stalin, she muses silently. Her thoughts are interrupted with a question from Sister Cruel. “Why are you here?” the nun demands. The girl emerges from her reverie stumped. It’s a good question.

As you’ve already guessed, I’m the girl. My new roommates are the nuns. I’m not sure how this happened, but it did. A week ago, a friend put me in touch with the administrator of an all girls’ school in the Palestinian village, al-Azarea. She knew that I was looking for a room with an Arabic-speaking family and thought the boarding school might be the answer to my prayers. The price was right, the location was good, and the deal seemed too good to be true. The only requirement was that I interview with the head nun. I should be honest—I blew that interview. When questioned about my faith, my answer was evidently Protestant enough to compel one of the observing nuns to interject, “we’re all God’s children, Sister Martha.” I suppose benevolence won over, because a few days later I was entrusted with keys to a Russian Orthodox Monastery.

My first night was rough. I didn’t exaggerate the wretchedness of the soup. What’s worse is that they knew that I would hate it but couldn’t decline it. By the way they were making fun of me in Russian, I guessed that I had just been fed something akin to Mountain Oysters. My palate was later salvaged with strawberries, but the evening didn’t get much better. After being questioned about my education and career goals, I was soon defending the very nature of ambition. The head nun looked at me with a mixture of pity and condescension as she informed me that I shouldn’t have such lofty aims because I’d be 60 years old before I realized that I hadn’t made a real difference in the world and by then I’d have no time left for self-improvement—the only kind of improvement in which one can truly succeed. It sounded to me like she’d had a few hard knocks—perhaps she had failed in some Mother Teresa-esq aspirations. Whatever the case, I didn’t think it necessary to bring me down with her. Yet, still trying to be loved, I made chatty conversation that doesn’t merit re-telling.

I’m not quite sure what the terms of my stay here are. I’m not the nanny, which I had to emphasize when the actual nanny quit the day I arrived. As far as I understand, I have no real duties here but to act as an ‘older sister’ to 12 Palestinian and Israeli girls, ranging from ages 5-14, who all come from broken homes and attend the boarding school. I’m also somewhat of a personal assistant to Sister Martha, who has frequent correspondence in English and will now be signing the letters that I write.

The girls are all very curious about me, but most of them are too shy to actually speak. I’ve managed to develop a rapport with two of the older girls, and a few of the younger ones find reasons to walk in my path or lurk in shadows and giggle when I’m in the same room, yet they laugh and run away when I speak to them. So much for learning Arabic here. The biggest breakthrough of the weekend came yesterday when Sheraan, a nine-year old, told me that she wanted to buy my hair. That was the first thing she had ever said to me and I had been here for two days. Her exclamation prompted an imaginary auction, where another girl walked away with my eyes and a third with my teeth. Poor little Natalie got stuck with my nose.

I’m not sure if I’ve made the smartest move when I dragged my bags to the monastery, but of my options it was definitely the most economical and non-orthodox (excuse the lame pun). I asked for a month’s trial to make sure the arrangement is suitable to everyone. Even if I end up elsewhere, this is one stop that is sure to add a little spice to my life.