May 10^th

I am on the rooftop of M’s house in Amman. M, the oldest daughter of Fatima lives in a tiny apartment in the middle of Amman, Jordan, a city of about 7 Mio people. I feel like part of the “Kite flyer” Movie, where the children let the kites fly from roof tops. In front of me are 2 kites caught in an antenna, on my left side a boy is starting his kite. The two daughters of M. are sitting right by my side on the roof and watching what I am doing. I say” I am writing a letter.” They look astonished. The fact that some stranger sits on their roof top and scribbles words on a piece to paper to send it off later to another country seems foreign in the world of Facebook and smart phones. Maybe also the privilege to have a friend far away who wants to read a letter.

The life of rooftops is interesting. It is the place for laundry. Children have their bikes up here. Carpets are rolled up in the corner and I bet people are sleeping up here in the cool air. I can sit here as a stranger easily and safely and the daughters are allowed to go on the roof without the danger a car will kill them. The oldest, 10 years now, shows me her personal treasure: a tree a few houses away that is so tall that we can see the top from the roof. Isn’t it a beautiful tree she comments in her best English?  I stand with her, looking at the cypress tree that made it in such a moloch of city and agree.