My Neighbor Marduk
by Roy Howard
This is a story about neighbors.
Marduk is my neighbor. We share a fence in the suburbs of Maryland near Washington, DC. “In my country” or “in my village” is how Marduk begins many sentences, having lived in Iran until seven years ago when he moved to Maryland with his wife and two children. He moved next door two years ago. When his wife’s mother became too riddled with Alzheimer’s disease to live alone, she moved in with them. Occasionally she would leave the house, as is common for Alzheimer’s without very close supervision, and wander aimlessly. Now she lives in a more secure environment.
Marduk drives a bus. He leaves for work at 4 AM. He speaks like many others who have learned English on their own. For instance, subject and verb occasionally disagree and words are sometimes left out. “I like, I like!” is one of his favorite phrases. When I asked how he learned English he explained that after the revolution English was no longer taught in any schools and rarely spoken. (The revolution is code for the fall of the Shah of Iran and the subsequent reign of Iranian fundamentalists and political allies.) When I first met him he was quick to share that he is not a practicing Muslim. “We like Christmas!” I laughed at his candor and noted how much he wanted to assure me of his background. Was he afraid I would treat him with suspicion if he were devout? I wonder. Our other neighbors who are modern practicing Muslims have no such worries. But that is after many conversations. Marduk’s wife sells perfume at the local Mall and she speaks in English all day. “Every day she is learning more and more words. Me? I don’t have to have English. People get on the bus and tell me where they want off. That’s all. But I am trying. That’s why I like to talk to you!”
I listen with curiosity. The other day I asked him about his home in the south of Iran. “In my village it is always hot, very hot. Makes Florida seems frigid in summer. We never went out of the house before eight at night. Still hot.” His comment came at the end of a very hot day and the joyous completion of a project I didn’t think was possible.
Early in the summer I began negotiations with a contractor to rebuild the twenty-year old sagging wood fence that we share. The price came in much too high. Marduk said, “let’s do it together! We can. We can.” I hemmed and hawed, unsure of this budding construction partnership. But my wife agreed, “That’s a great idea. You can do it.” When she said that I sighed, knowing I was defeated, bracing for the heat and humidity, and knowing how “easy projects” are rarely easy.
Marduk (the name is the same as the ancient Babylonian god) suggested we go to Lowe’s and pick up the fence posts. I had some spare fence rails that we had salvaged from another project but we still needed several posts. It is quite a helpful learning experience, culturally and personally, to shop at Lowe’s with an Iranian immigrant who speaks English with his own distinct grammar. But we did it and to my growing surprise I began to relish this opportunity to work together. But not always. I didn’t on the day that I discovered my tools locked in Marduk’s garage when I wanted to put in some work alone of the project. I bounded over to his house. “Why are my tools locked up?” I asked impatiently. He smiled impishly. “We will work together! Not alone. I like us to work together.” What could I say to this neighbor taking such happiness in working together? “Okay.” So there we were men, both Americans one from South of Atlanta, the other from the South of Tehran, sweating and grunting in the hot sun. It took us several days and several conversations, but we did it. Now Marduk stands on this deck and I on mine admiring our work. “I like, I like,” he says, “we do it together!”
Jesus once said love your neighbor as yourself. This is a story about two men, from vastly different backgrounds, becoming neighbors, and building a neighborhood once fence at a time.