I have been trying to upload the most hilarious video of Benaiah I've seen (all 5 months of his life anyway). But the blog is not uploading it. I'll try again later. For now, I'll move on to another post.
Benaiah's pediatrician informed me, "The Ministry of Health has a little money right now, go get your shots free in the public health clinic." So, this morning, we did. As I walked through the door of the polyclinic in our neighborhood, all I could think was, why, oh why, did I not bring my camera? (My camera is now officially on the "List of Things to Throw In My Bag Before I Leave the House.") The clinic was small, clean, attended. But across the room from us sat sweet, sweet, covered from head-to-toe, village grannies tightly clutching their health records and government insurance papers. Next to them sat an old chap with his cap on. In we walked in Old Navy coats, jeans, and crocs. Such an interesting place this is. If I had a photo to post here, you would have thought I was doing a documentary on the health care in Iraq. I see them on CNN International. That is exactly what this scene looked like. I began to negotiate with myself about not bringing my camera at such an opportunity, thinking, "Oh well, I couldn't have snapped their photo anyway...it might have been awkward..." Then, "No. I could have gotten their picture with the kids. That's my inroad." 2 seconds later, one came to ask if she could hold the baby. Should have brought the camera. We chatted, but I understood less of her Turkish than most of the people I talk to. There is such a thing here as a country accent, a hillbilly Turkish. I felt proud that for a few minutes, while she waited to hear the doctor's prognosis of her aging body, she had my baby to hold.