I realize I’m about to speak on something that I have very little knowledge. To even apply that I have some knowledge is an overstatement. But alas, as I sit on a bus at a border crossing between Iraq and Turkey I must write. It’s not my first time doing this. I knew paying less meant a little more “adventurous” experience, if you will. This time, though, was a little more adventurous. As I waited in line with about 100 men ranging in age from about 14 to 30, plus those who rode on my bus, I was faced with the typical cultural things of stares and the whispering of “look at her with the gold hair!”. This is not as unpleasant to me as it used to be. If anything, I get to cut the line because I’m a woman and a foreigner and probably look about as helpless as I am. This line was different though, full of smugglers, and me, trying to stay calm and lock eyes with the man that helps our bus get through the border. As we got closer to the final x-ray machine, he saw the cry of help in my eyes. As the smugglers around me, illegally bringing in a lot (for lack of better statistics) of cigarettes and whatever else, berate me to help them take their bags with mine! Again, this is not unusual, but between the persistence, lack of space, and screaming all around me, the need for help was becoming much more real. Nice man from my bus (his name unknown to me), helped me get close to him and grabbed my suitcase to help me when the time came to put in in the x-ray belt. The only issue is, there’s no line anymore, but rather an angry mob of young men pushing one another to put their smuggled goods on the x-ray belt first. I catch eyes with the Turkish guard, pleading for help in how I have learned to as a foreign woman, and I was met with a stare. My help was not coming from him today. It was almost like his stare said to me “well, little foreign American girl with gold hair...you chose to come by bus across this border.” In a matter of seconds another guard comes by and does some sort of hit/push move on the man right in front of me! People are falling over each other at this point leaving me to the mercy of whatever smuggler will just help me. Sure enough, a young man grabs my suitcase, book bag, and purse, and yells at the guard and all the other men crowded around in a language I could understand “Shame on you all! This is a woman. She will go now.” Thank you, sir smuggler. Only, my payment to him in the end was my bags coming out of the x-ray machine and him putting his smuggled goods right on top on my suitcase and saying “my daughter, take this” right in front of the x-ray guard who I then make eye contact with. Oh no! I’ll stop quickly to add a note to the reader that this culture uses honoring names to address one another, so being called his daughter was not a bad thing. Then I had decision to make. With eyes locked in with the x-ray guard, I shook my head no, grabbed the smuggled goods, placed them on the floor and walked (ran) away. What occurred following this I don’t know. These guards are very conditioned to the work of these smugglers, and to my understanding it is basically acceptable. It played out in my mind all too quickly though…I help this guy because he helped me and then I end up in handcuffs on the Turkish border and miss my flight, but also probably endure some less than ideal questioning. These smugglers were selfish, self-seeking and serving, inconsiderate, and not to mention…smuggling illegal goods. I do, though, reflect on my own heart and see these unfortunate sins reflected in me as well. My actions are certainly different than these men, yet we might have more in common in our sinful nature than I’d like to admit. I, too, want to be first, have others take the fall when I want to get ahead, and think far more about consequences for myself than the impact had on others. May it not be so as the good Lord Jesus is who I slowly change to be more like, and may it not be so amongst the smugglers at this border crossing. By the time I’ve finished writing this “adventurous” story, we have exited the border crossing and are well on our way to the airport. Of course, not without a stop to a restaraunt first. The only thing I’ll be smuggling is an extra sprite, at least until next time. ;)