High on a barren desert mountain, not far from where some say John the Baptist was beheaded, a Bedouin woman weaves a rug - much like her mother and grandmother have done for years.
But, unlike those from whom she learned the art, this woman is making money from the endeavor. She's certainly not getting rich, but her family is seeing a harvest of benefits - food, education, medical care - that would otherwise be only a dream.The woman is one of about 1,500 Bedouin women working in one of seven similar projects designed by the Save the Children Federation.
The goal: provide economic stability to mothers. The mothers will save the children.
As an urban girl who spent her summers herding sheep in the vast expanses of nothing near Manila, Utah, Rebecca Buchanan never dreamed she'd find herself - at home - in the vast expanses of nothing on the high Jordanian desert.
But today, Amman, Jordan, is home and Rebecca Buchanan Salti, now Jordan field director for the Save the Children Federation, is the mentor for self-sufficiency for these eager Bedouin women.
"When a woman doesn't have her own economic means, she can be reduced to a beggar at any time," Rebecca says. "And generally, it's the children who suffer."
So, in 1985, with $5,000 in seed money and firm belief that Beoudin children deserved better than what they had, Rebecca established the Bani Hamida project.
"Bani" means "children," "Hamida" means "mountain"; thus the project is "Children of the Mountain."
The project is simple: Take these beautiful hand-woven rugs, find a market and sell them, and return the money to the weavers - the Bedouin women and mothers. Meanwhile, you make it possible for the women to eventually manage the project.
Last year, the project netted some $285,000 - money that went back to the women and their children. Perhaps even more impressive is the fact that the Bedouin women - and their daughters who, because of the project have had some formal education - now run virtually the entire project. They handle everything from inventory and quality control to setting specifications for the rugs, to bookkeeping to supervision and selling. And, yes, they still do the weaving.
"I started the project," Rebecca concedes, "but the other girls always came back with better ideas. It's fun to replace yourself with better - local - people."
As she drives up and down those dusty hills in the Jordanian desert, the effect of her efforts is obvious. Virtually everyone she sees waves and smiles. They ask her advice about a medical problem. They invite her in for tea. They trust her.
So how did this one-time Salt Lake girl end up speaking fluent Arabic in this far off place?
Amer, it seems, is to blame. And Rebecca would have it no other way.
Amer, a Palestinian from the West Bank, met Rebecca in 1960 at BYU.
"He was always telling me what it was like to be a Palestinian. I'd sit down with my food tray in the cafeteria and say, `Tell me more,' " Rebecca recalls.
By 1966, the friendship evolved into marriage. Amer wanted to take his education in economics, political science and public adminstration back to his native land. Rebecca, excited about the possibilities of life in another land, was anxious to go.
"Amer said he would make sure I was happy in the Mideast. He has really supported and encouraged me. We have a beautiful marriage and are both very proud of each other."
Jobs and other opportunities took them to many places throughout the Mideast, but always Rebecca seemed to be helping the children.
Soon after arriving in the West Bank, Rebecca got a job with the United Nations Relief and Works Agency - working with refugee children.
She found young people starved for activities - and answered with the zillions of things she'd done at BYU.
"I fell in love with the Palestinian youth. You give them the ball and let them run with it, and they would take an idea farther than you'd ever imagine."
Work at other schools, with youth groups and for aid agencies followed. By 1975, the Saltis had settled in Amman. Last fall, when the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait sent refugees flooding into Jordan, she was on the front lines of the relief efforts. When Operation Desert Storm ended, Rebecca was among the first to visit Baghdad.
For a local girl who herded sheep in Daggett County, she says, her life has certainly had a few twists.
She wouldn't trade her experiences for anything, but life in the Mideast is not without challenges. Talk of peace, war, terrorism, land, refugees and a homeland that seems so distant to her childhood friends are a daily entree for Rebecca.
As the intifada rages in the West Bank, she realizes that the Palestinian children being hurt might be her former students. When the uncertainty of Desert Storm threatened the entire Mideast, the family had to make contingency plans to leave the country. Generations of poor relations between Israelis and Arabs continue to threaten her family's stability.
Yet, she is is heartened by recent peace developments. But she's also realistic enough to know that peace will not come quickly.
Her hope, as she settled in the Mideast, was that she wouldn't become an ugly American. She wanted to fit in and do what she could for humanity.
"People aren't fussy about qualifications," she says. "If you're willing to do the work, you get the job. I had to put in my time and establish my own identity in a Muslim world.
"I've gained a lot," she says.