What I Learned Hosting a Jordanian Exchange Student

Here in the United States, politics continue to fray the bonds between families and friends. How then can strangers of profoundly different backgrounds stand a chance of getting along?

This wasn’t an abstract question for me. It was a concrete concern as I readied our house to host a college exchange student from Jordan.

From the brief biography we received, I knew Abdel observed halal dietary restrictions and did not drink alcohol. Not a problem, (although belatedly I learned vanilla extract is not halal because it is made with alcohol!)

Handsome Hubby and I excitedly planned menus and outings in the days before our visitor’s arrival. I imagined topics to discuss — family, customs, and life in Jordan.

Then, it occurred to me: We’d eventually talk about the fighting in the Middle East. How would we navigate that topic, coming at it from such wildly different backgrounds?

Then, a second thought: I knew our guest was Muslim, but did he know I was Jewish?

My concern was mostly for him, a 20-year-old, religiously observant, first-time visitor to the U.S. How would he feel staying with Jews? We were fine. We were adults, who had willingly opened our home, but how about him?

Would he, who had merely been assigned a random housing slot, feel blindsided, uncomfortable, overwhelmed or, God forbid, hostile? If he was hostile, would we really be “fine”? Would we all be able to manage his time at our house, or would his stay with us end before the allotted time? What if he refused to stay?

At first excited, I now felt nervous and unsure.

I contacted the exchange program director, who reaffirmed that the whole point of a cultural exchange program was dialogue and education. More specifically, he affirmed that Abdel was “cool” and could handle the religious issue.

So, it was all systems go.

The visit went wonderfully. We had a lot of fun showing him around our community, discovering similarities between our cultures and cuisines, and talking about family life, work, culture, and religion. I even had a giggly conversation with Abdel’s mother in Amman via FaceTime — although she darted offscreen when HH walked over to say hello since she wasn’t wearing her hijab.

We Talked the Talk

On Adel’s last morning with us, we finally talked about the Middle East. “Are you sure we should?” Abdel asked, raising a worried eyebrow.

Our views were, not unexpectedly, wildly divergent. Abdel told me Hamas was not “as bad” as we in the West are being told, and that he believes Israelis do not want a two-state solution.

We listened to each other’s views respectfully, holding our tempers and tongues when necessary. Obviously, this 70-year-old Jew and the 20-year-old son of a Palestinian refugee father were not going to alter each other’s opinions over one breakfast of scrambled eggs, and toast.

But at least we proved calm debate could occur. We also proved that two families — even via FaceTime and translation — could find common ground over shared recipes, love of children, and belief in the value of education and hard work.

Our young friend has since returned home. We have exchanged emails. Abdel wants to return here for work next summer.

There is no grand moral to this story. All that can be said is that a friendship was formed. Domestic life goes on for two families — one Muslim in Jordan and one Jewish in America. Meanwhile, war wages on in the Middle East.