Is it possible to make a life-long friend in just one hour? Especially with a person who doesn’t even speak the same language? Or who has a different religion? Or whose customs are about 180 degrees away from yours?

I think it is possible. And, I think that recently I just did it.

Sultan came for a brief visit at Thanksgiving. We were thrown together almost immediately without the benefit of any sort of intermediary or interpreter. There sitting beside me in my car was a young stranger…..and yes….one who could barely speak a word of English. And, me? No….my knowledge of Arabic is very sub-standard. Non-existent, in fact.

We managed to make it through a brief tour of Valley Falls…..and some of the surrounding territory…. Specifically…Paradise Point. Through the use of gestures, one syllable words….and a lot of silence….and lots of smiles….we established a form of communication that lasted at least until we came back home.

For the brief time were at home….we had Fayez, Sultan’s brother….to serve as a go-between. But, mainly….as is usually the case when there is an odd man out in speaking English (or any language)….Fayez and spent the time talking to each other….largely excluding Sultan from our conversation.

Later that night we found ourselves at Terry’s Bar and Grill. And, we found ourselves in largely the same situation: I speak English. Sultan speaks Arabic. My ability to speak Arabic hadn’t improved. And, neither had Sultan’s ability to speak English. But, there we were…..sitting across from each other…..looking at each other expectantly. And, we would be there for the next three hours! One alternative was to sit in silence…..to pretend to watch one of the ball games playing on one of the bar’s many TV screens.

But, we didn’t chose to do that. By now, we had both downloaded Arabic-English dictionaries onto our cell phones. We were equipped with a ballpoint pen and napkins to write on. We were also equipped with a desire to communicate with each other. So….one simple step at time….sometimes one word at a time…..we began to carry on a simple, slow….but real conversation with each other. We were taking the first small steps to an understanding and friendship that would grow as the weeks passed by.

Sultan returned to my house on December 12 to spend the Christmas break.

The foundation for our friendship had already been laid. Now the building could begin.

LEARNING, TALKING, LAUGHING…..

By sheer necessity, a lot of the three weeks Sultan spent in my home was devoted to learning the English language. He had been in the U.S.A. only two months. And, normally a person doesn’t become fluent in English…..or in any language…..in a mere two months. Sultan was attending a language school in Oklahoma City. And, as could be expected….they started from the very beginning. I got the distinct impression that they were concentrating more on grammar rules…sentence structure….verb tenses…. Stuff like that.

That is all good. Somebody had to teach that, if he were to learn to speak fluently….and coherently. And….that is a long, almost never-never ending….process. Most students in the public schools of the U.S.A never master that skill. In fact, I am not even sure it is taught any longer. Maybe schools have given up on it….considering it to be a lost cause. A great many of today’s teachers don’t even know how to speak correctly…..speak proper grammar the way that somebody back in the olden days decided it should be spoken.

And…..this is not a problem….except to those language purists who insist that every original rule be followed. I am not implying that schools no longer teach English….or language arts, as it is called today. They do…..and students are tested over it. I think it more the fact that nobody ever bothers to follow the rules. After all…. What is the main purpose of a language? To communicate with each other. Right?

Well….getting back to the story…. I was not….and for the most part….am not….so concerned about Sultan following the rules of correct English grammar and sentence construction. I was….and still am…more interested in helping him develop his vocabulary……add to his storehouse of words. I figure that these two approaches are extremely complimentary to other. His language school can teach him the “correct” way to say things. And, I will help him expand his vocabulary to we can talk about more and more things. After all, I have had a ton of experience in listening to….and understanding….foreigners speak as they continue to learn the language. For the past fifty years or so, I have worked with Vietnamese, Germans, Chinese, Koreans, Italians, French, Polish……to name the ones that come to my mind immediately. And….I have also worked with more than a few Americans who didn’t exactly speak good English, too.

We took every opportunity to learn English. Early on….immediately after he arrived for his extended Christmas break stay…..I gave Sultan a little spiral notebook to carry with him. He could write down all the new words he learned in this little notebook…..and we could use them as a basis for our conversations. He carried his little notebook with him wherever he went…..and he used it faithfully. In fact, I rarely saw him without it. Even at times I least expected, he would take out his trusty little notebook….either to write down a word….or to practice using words in sentences.

If he is nothing else (and he definitely is)…..Sultan is nice. He is rarely without a smile on his face. Fayez told me….even before I had met Sultan….to be careful. Even he did not understand a word I was saying, he would probably smile and shake his head “Yes”. Guess what? Fayez was right!

Many times I would say things to him. Sultan would smile brightly. And…to any unsuspecting person, it would appear that he had understood completely what had just been said. I quickly developed the habit of saying, “Do you understand that I just said?” or more than likely, “You have no idea what I just said….do you?” More than likely, his answer was, “No…..”

I learned this fact first hand a couple times. When we went places at night, Sultan did all the driving…..no matter that he did not have any sort of valid driver’s license. I would say, “OK, turn right at the next corner.” Sultan would immediately get in the left hand turning lane! “No, No…..turn right! Turn right!”

It turned out that he did not know the words “right” and “left”……two rather important words to know when driving. But, happily, I can say that we survived…..and Left and Right became two of his very first important vocabulary words.

No matter where we happened to be…..at home, in the car, at the fitness center, shopping….we took advantage of the time to learn language. Every place we went became a classroom. One of our favorite “classrooms” was Terry’s Bar and Grill in Topeka. It is a relaxing place to go….and sit….and talk…. And, when I could get his attention away from whatever basketball game happened to be playing on one of the many TV screens…..another of our language “classrooms”.

Whenever we left home, Sultan was always armed with his trusty little notebook and his cell phone, which contained an Arabic-English dictionary. I always carry my cell phone with me, too…..mostly for emergencies. But, it was usually a good thing I had it with me. Sultan’s cell phone was usually not in range of any of his carrier’s cell phone towers! When he signed up for cell phone service, he relied too heavily on Fayez’s advice. And….not so surprisingly….Fayez doesn’t have any cell phone service in this area either. But, be that as it may…..Sultan made constant….and profitable….use of the translating dictionary to add words to his vocabulary.

Most of the time it would probably have been easier and more convenient to simply sit at home in the evening. There is, however, something about sitting in a friendly bar that is conducive to good conversation. So, we spent many nights at Terry’s Bar and Grill talking, learning….and trying to keep Sultan focused on our conversation.

SPORTS….SPORTS….SPORTS…..

Somehow you may have gotten the idea that Sultan likes sports. If you did…..you are absolutely correct. I am not sure there is a sport that does not grab his attention….whether he is actually familiar with it or not. Familiarity seems to be irrelevant. Usually, if there is a ball and a whistle involved…. Sultan is interested in it.

Back in his home country of Saudi Arabia, he played handball….and also soccer. He excelled more in handball, though. The impression I get from Fayez….and also in a round about way from Sultan….he was perhaps the “star” player….and recognized leader…. on his handball team.

Handball in the rest of the world is not the same handball that we play here in the U.S.A. When I was in the Army, I was introduced to handball by my boss….the Commander of Troops at Fort Benjamin Harrison. And….it wasn’t exactly voluntary. He loved the game of handball. And, for some reason, he thought the rest of the world should love it, too. At least, the part of the world that worked in our headquarters office.

Everybody who worked in the headquarters was encouraged to take one hour each morning for physical training…..PT, in Army language. This was a time of day highly anticipated by most of the guys in our office. We could go to the gym….lift a few weights, ride a bicycle, shoot some baskets. Or maybe go for a jog around the Army base. To make PT time even better, I took it in conjunction with my lunch hour. So, around 11:00 or so, my best friend, a guy who worked in the Supply Section, and I would take off for the gym.

This was a great arrangement……Most of the time. But….maybe one or two days a week, our boss…..the Commander of Troops…..would decide that he also wanted some Physical Training…..or PT. And…..he wanted to play handball. And…..he needed a partner. And……that partner usually turned our to be ME or my friend….or both.

American handball….real handball, as we like to call it…..it not a game for the weak or the faint of heart. It is a fast-paced, never-stopping, always moving effort to hit a little hard rubber ball and score points. Don’t be fooled by the term “little hard rubber ball”. I mean it is HARD. And you do not hit it with a racket……you hit it with your HAND. It would probably shatter a racket on the first hit.

If you have ever been in the Army, you know that you do not say “No” to generals very often. (I never did!) So, when he said, “Come on, Specialist Darrah…..or usually just “Darrah”… Let’s go play handball.” I obediently dropped whatever I was doing…..and went to play handball. I never once won a match against him. Didn’t even come close most of the time. But….I always tried to look like I was trying…. And, I suppose….I did try. One thing for sure….when I went back to my office, my hands were swollen and sore. At least, in the beginning. And….that was not good for a person who spent most of the day sitting behind a typewriter! And….just so we are on the right page: It was a manual typewriter. Not a word processor!

This is the brand of handball played here in the U.S.A. But, has absolutely no similarity to the game of handball played in the rest of the world. I am not sure how to adequately describe the game for those people who are not familiar with it…..and most of you probably aren’t. Maybe we can describe it as a kind of dodge ball…..the game kids play in grade school. But instead of trying to hit a person and put him out of the game…..you are trying to throw the ball through a goal in the end zone….. Sort of like “air soccer” maybe. It can be….and it is….a rough game…..a fast-paced, non-stop….very physical game. And….at least, for the first few minutes….a rather interesting game. If you want to know more about it…..go find it on You Tube, and watch for a while.

At any rate, this is the game at which Sultan (and also Fayez) excelled. But….Alas….it is not a game found in the U.S.A. Fayez and I have searched the Internet for a handball league….or even a handball team….in the U.S.A……and none is to be found. Since the dimensions of the handball court have no similarity to a basketball or volleyball court, it is impossible even to improvise a game.

So…..when Sultan set his feet on U.S.A. soil, he said good-bye to his handball playing days….at least, until he goes back home again. Sultan is a highly active young man….and very athletic. Although he could no longer play handball, he could still run…and he could still work out in the gym.

Actually, Sultan is a good runner….and he could probably even be great….if he put his heart into it. But, he is a rather reluctant runner. He doesn’t love it….but he doesn’t loathe it, either. He isn’t apt to suggest it first….but he probably won’t turn down an opportunity, if he has nothing better to do. He usually doesn’t give it his full effort…..but he usually comes up with a fairly descent time. If he is running alone, he maintains a comfortable, but steady, pace. If he is running with somebody….he is highly competitive and does everything in his power to win. His only competitor while he was at our house was Fayez…..and Sultan made sure that he won.

Knowing that he would probably need an incentive to win, I told him that if he ran on the Ferguson Road from Highway K-16 to our corner…..a total of four miles….ten times, I would give him a highly prized Ferguson Road Runners t-shirt. These shirts were made back in the mid-70’s when a group of cross-country runners decided it would be cool to form a running club….and buy matching t-shirts. All sorts of names for the club were tossed about for consideration. The name “Ferguson Road Runners” was the name that was finally chosen……a name so obvious that it was an easy choice.

These t-shirts are about 40 years old. Only 50 shirts were made. They were made by a company in Topeka. We met the owner of the company at several of the cross-country races we attended. He told us one day that if we could decide upon a design, he would print the shirts and sell them to us at his cost…..just because he was impressed by the loyalty and effort and determination he saw in our impromptu group of runners week in and week out.

Our rather informal running club….the Ferguson Road Runners….held together for probably ten or twelve years. Kids drifted in and out…. Over the years, there were somewhere around 35 runners who came and went. The club was never dissolved. It just sort of came to a natural end…..as the runners grew older, graduated from high school, moved, got jobs…..or simply developed other interests. Some years ago, when I was conducting one of my infrequent binges of getting rid of stuff I don’t need…..I discovered the shirts. They have become prized souvenirs….one of a kind….never to be duplicated….highly coveted trophies.

Fayez earned a shirt (actually, two of them, because he lost one of them in the Henry Ford Museum in Detroit) by running the four miles stretch of the Ferguson Road a total….and probably in excess….of ten times. In the case of Sultan, I made a special deal: If he would run five times, he would receive a shirt. He kept his part of the agreement, running his final time the day before he left to go back to Oklahoma City…..and he received his shirt. I think the shirt is now one of his most prized possessions.

 

 

 

 

Sultan quickly established his running pace….and he rarely deviated from that pace. We timed each of his run….and all five of his times were within mere seconds from each other. I have no doubt that if he were being challenged, his times would have fallen dramatically! But, as I followed him in my car, stopping frequently to take pictures….he was never too tired to smile and wave at the camera. But, even running at his rather leisurely pace, his times were better than most people could probably ever hope for.

But, Sultan is a smart runner. I am pretty sure this was not the first time he had run four miles. Maybe it was the first time he had run four miles with a cold wind, freezing temperatures…..and snow on the ground. But he always took the time to stretch his muscles thoroughly…..both before running and after he finished. By doing this, he ran with relative comfort….and suffered few, if any, side effects at the end of his running.

While, Sultan may have been a semi-reluctant runner. He definitely was not reluctant at working out at the fitness center. This was a time he highly anticipated…..and a time that he often had to persuade me to do. Oh….I always took him, to be sure. But, his desire…..and his fondness….to lift weights greatly exceeded my desire.

I belong to a fitness center in Meriden. It is a 24-Hour center…..and each member has a key-card which enables entry round the clock. It is basically unsupervised….and members are on their honor to take proper care of the equipment. And, they are also on their honor to pay $5.00 every time they take a guest. The center, which is composed of two large rooms filled with various fitness machines, is monitored by surveillance cameras. There are several cameras in place. I seriously doubt if anybody is sitting in a room monitoring the activity twenty-four hours a day. But….I am equally certain that each camera is attached to a taping machine…..for use in case they become necessary.

For the few days that Fayez spent with us before going home to attend his brother’s wedding, he argued that nobody care if I took guests with me…..at least, that nobody would find out. Therefore, there was no need of paying the $5.00 per person fee each time we went. Reluctantly…unwillingly…..and against my better judgment…..I let myself be convinced that indeed nobody would ever know…..nobody would ever bother to ask about the $5.00 fee. So…..When we went to the fitness center, I merely used my card to enter….and we proceeded with our workout.

My fears and suspicions were confirmed one night. In fact, it was New Year’s Eve. We were on our way to Topeka to spend the evening at Terry’s Bar. We stopped at the fitness center on our way….expecting that nobody would be there on New Year’s Eve. But….we were wrong. I used my “key card”, as usual, to let ourselves in. There were actually two or three other people there. This must have been their way of celebrating New Year’s Eve. One of these people was a lady whom I had never seen before. She approached me and said, “Would you please write your card number on the sign-in sheet.” This was the first….and last time….I had ever seen or heard of a sign-in sheet. But, I willingly complied with her request, and wrote my number on the sheet.

I knew immediately that she worked there. Fortunately, I had a $5.00 bill in my billfold…and I put in the box where guests are supposed to pay their money. I sighed a sign of relief…..we were covered for the evening. Sultan was happily unaware that this was taking place. We had never paid before….and of course, he believed Fayez, who didn’t think it was necessary to pay. Later on in the evening, the woman came up to me and said, “When you bring a guest, you are supposed to pay $5.00. But, since it is New Year’s Eve, I am going to let you bring him for free. But, next time….be sure to pay.”

Ah, ha! “Oh, I already put $5.00 in the box,” I told her…innocently enough. Just like I had been doing it all along.

“Oh. That is great. Enjoy your workout,” she said.

A little later, as she was preparing to leave, she stopped again and said, “Well, I guess I will check and see if there are any messages in the box before I leave.”

I watched her as she opened the box…..and I can rather imagine the surprise as the actually found the $5.00 that I had put there. Come on, lady. You are not fooling me. You were just checking to see if I actually left $5.00. Another sign of relief. We only saw her one more time….. Or I should say, “I” only saw her one more time. This time I had no cash, so I paid her with my debit card. I think the moral of this story is: Be honest. If you are supposed to pay…..then pay. Don’t assume that the rules do not apply to you…..just like they apply to everybody else. And, never assume that nobody is going to find out.

Sometimes it is easy for other people….the people who are not affected….to take rules lightly. But…this was MY membership at stake. And, I certainly did not want to jeopardize it over $5.00.

Sultan has a fixed routine which he uses when he works out….based on the various muscle groups in the body. Each time we went to the fitness center, he concentrated on a different muscle group…..while I concentrated on staying awake until he finished. No….actually, I went through about eight of the machine weight machines…..doing about 30 reps on each machine. This is roughly 240 reps…… And, I still finished well before Sultan finished his workout.

Sultan lifted a lot of free weights. This sort of worried me. Having been a former weight room supervisor, I recognize the necessity of every individual weight lifter having a “spotter”…..just in case there any sort of problem. Can you imagine a scrawny 145 lbs. kid pinned under a bar containing a hundred pounds or so. I don’t think Sultan would take any unnecessary or foolhardy chances…..but…..Safety First. Occasionally he would ask for my help. But, more than likely, I would volunteer my assistance. And, on many occasions, I would end up helping him lift the weights back to the bar rest when the weight simply was too much for him. The sight of Sultan’s 145 lbs. body lying on the weight bench pinned down by a hundred pounds of dead weight was a sight I did not like to envision. And…..since he did all the night time driving, I would have no way to get back home.

Sultan is very conscientious and dedicated. He plans in advance….and he carries through with his plans. Sultan never entered with gym without a plan and a purpose clearly formulated in his mind. He would go directly to work and work steadily throughout the entire workout. If I asked him at any point, he would tell me exactly how many repetitions of each exercise were remaining. As for me…..after going through the usual eight stations, I would usually sit and watch TV…..or take pictures….look at the clock….and mentally say, “Come on, Sultan. Hurry up….and let’s get out of this place.”

We spent several nights at our favorite hangout in Topeka….Terry’s Bar and Grill. Anytime I have guests, this is almost a sure after dark destination. We are familiar faces to most of the people who work there. Depending on who happens to accompany me, it doesn’t take long before they become acquainted with our tastes….and usually bring our drinks without even asking what we want. That is how familiar our faces are. When Fayez stays at my house during his college breaks, they automatically know that I will order a pitcher of Bud Lite….and Fayez will have hot tea and a lemon. It is usually delivered to our table almost immediately after we are seated at our favorite table.

When Oliver came for a visit one February, we went there at night, of course. Almost immediately after we had taken our seats, the waitress appeared with a pitcher of Bud Lite…..and, of course….a cup of hot tea and a lemon. Oliver looked at it with a rather puzzled look and said something like, “What’s going on? Why can’t I have some beer?”

I started laughing. I knew immediately what had happened. They simply assumed that he was Fayez. The waitress was embarrassed and apologetic…. But, in a way, it was sort of comforting and reassuring to know that we were an accepted customer….and they were taking good care of us. And….Oliver did his beer.

When Sultan and I went to Terry’s, the dozen or so TV sets were like a magnet to his eyes. They were all tuned to ESPN or Fox Sports. It didn’t make much difference what sports was playing….Sultan usually appeared more interested in watching the TV than he was in carrying on a conversation. Most of the time….especially in the early days after his arrival……he usually had no idea was was happening. This was chiefly true when an American football game was in progress…..a game with which he was not knowledgeable. But….the sport could have been anything…..the luge….or acrobatics…..or fencing….or …….you name it. Sultan simply likes sports. He was will watch any sports…..and appear to be completely engrossed in it…..even if he has no idea what it is.

Such is his love for sports. As for me….if I do not know the team….and if it is not one of my favorite teams….and if I do not like the team….I couldn’t care less about it. On TV here in the U.S.A., sports proliferates the TV programming….several ESPN channels and even more Fox Sports channels….not to mention major sports events carried on the Big 3 TV networks…..and all the minor sports specialty channels. Yeah…..I have friends….but only a very few….who are just like Sultan: They will watch any sports and every sport, whether they like it….or understand it. Just as long as it is a sport. Just as long as somebody is competing.

Anyway…..sometimes the biggest competition for me was for Sultan’s attention.

Sultan goes to school in Oklahoma City….and he learned early that, as part of the Big 12 Conference, Oklahoma University and Kansas University compete with each other in sports. Long ago, Sultan became very much aware that I am a loyal and dedicated KU. Fan. And….knowing this… Well, I can imagine you are already way ahead of me in this story. Yes….he immediately became an instant Oklahoma University fan. But, now that I think of it….I guess that reason is as good as any reason….if somebody has to become an Oklahoma fan. Really…..I have nothing against Oklahoma. The only time I am against them is when they are playing the University of Kansas. And, as fate would have it…..they came up against K. U. three times during the basketball season: Twice on the regular season schedule…and once in the Big 12 Tournament. Fortunately, K. U. won each of the three games. And, believe me…..these wins spared me a great deal of grief at the hands….or vocal cords….of Sultan.

So…..as our friendship grew and strengthened, some of it, at least, took place in the fitness center…..and was further enabled by our friendly our mutual interest in sports…..although this interest was probably stronger with Sultan than with me.