chillen

returned from Disi

this is just a blog to let anyone know that I've returned safely to Amman from my stay in Disi. I spent to two weeks living with two separate families, researching a type of traditional song/poetry called Samir. The song is traditionally sung at weddings and circumcision ceremonies. unfortunately i didn't get to attend either of these types of ceremonies where it is traditionally sung, but instead was able to speak to people, young and old, about the vanishing art form. Hopefully I'll be able to write more about this (if i can find time between my four papers to write in the next two weeks).

For an overlook of the average day:

wake up around 7-8, wash up, sit to eat breakfast with whomever was around. breakfast consisted of bread, lebneh, thyme, olive oil, olives, perhaps some type of cheese, and of course, the sweetest tea (perhaps with camel or goats milk). then sitting around and looking over works, asking comers and goers simply questions about thoughts from every day life, to Samir, and of course in the end it would somehow come back to Islam. nap. lunch. talk with more people (perhaps be taken to meet someone). sit and go over work. nap?. sit around with visitors outside or inside, drink tea. once it became late, eat dinner. tea. watch TV/ talk until everyone is tired. sleep.

Of course this varied depending on the two families i stayed with. In the second family I spent countless hours sitting with my friend who was like my host to his family, discussing the verses of poetry from Samir, learning the endless names for "camel" in arabic, and bedu dialect words that can only be explained by sentences in English (or atleast my english isn't strong enough to know the correct translation into one english word... for instance).

names for camel i learned:
إبل (camels)
هجن (a bunch of camels)
قعود -male camel (possibly young?)
ناقة -female camel
فطر -old female camel
حيل- the pregnant camel
عفر- camels
ذلول - camel
غوج- camel
زمل - male camels
حوار -baby camel

that's right... that's 11... and there are more

but yes, I'm still trying to figure out how i can ever fully reflect in writing the experience that i had... hopefully it will come soon enough.

that's it for now.

flower power

looking forward to a few weeks from now...







Yesterday a friend came to speak in Arabic class, one of the Jordanians that Ketan and I have been meeting with on an off for 'language exchange'. Muhamad: the poet, actor, volunteer, company owner, and engineer. In just two days he's going to be leaving Jordan for the first time in his life to travel to Kuwait and work there for a contract that he has for a year. His last words to our class were ones that i wouldn't have doubted to come from his mouth, but which i'd like to discuss because they addressed a topic that has been on my mind recently. He essentially said that it was great that we were all learning Arabic so that we could be able to explain ourselves, and have ourselves be understood by Arabic speakers (just as it is good for Arabic speakers to learn English so that they can have their thoughts reach English speakers), but even with that, there are still people who speak the same language, be they two Arabs or two English speakers who can still not understand each, despite the fact that they have a common language.

After hearing his words I thought immediately back to the lecture we attended yesterday at the Diplomacy Institute where an American political scientist and writer, Dr. Philip Gordon, spoke about American politics in the Middle East. Although I've been in the Middle East for nearly 5 or 6 months now, and heard the wide ranging (or perhaps less ranging) arguments on American Policy in the Middle East from locals, this was the first time i actually saw these arguments juxtaposed to an American academic who was less willing to simply give into the 'mistakes of America' and lamely nod their head in agreement (usually my position for fear of losing some level of respect, and also because i don't have enough political or historical background to really defend any other standpoint most of the time). It quickly became clear during the question and answer period that there was going to be a difference between the speaker and the Middle Eastern scholars in the room who attended the meeting (who were few in number mind you). Although Dr. Gordon was just as quick to criticize American Policy and the choices it's made over the past few years in concern with the war in Iraq and such, he would not secede the point that the major fault of it all was America's support for Israel... which appeared the be the major issue in need of addressing from the M.E. scholar's points of view. I don't know that the arguments can be as easily summed up as I've just summed them up, but it's not really the political arguments that I'm as concerned about here. What concerned me was how quickly the Q&A question reached a point where neither side seemed open to a real discussion, but rather simply to some level of insulting the other. The only way for one side to really listen to the other, was for them to simply agree with the other side... and if they didn't agree, it seemed that only a larger gap was made.

During the discussion many ideas popped in my head... were these seeming attacks coming from the ME scholars simply posed with cultural inflection? So that although the speaker might have found them insulting, they may not have intended to be... or that had they intended to be insulting, was the insult a way in which new ideas were supposed to be brought up, rather than speaking about specific ideas directly (for instance how one of them had to clear up after the first round of questions, that the intention in almost all of the questions was to deal directly with the Israeli issue, although that hadn't necessarily been made clear through the words posed in themselves)? (my mind raced back to the very first article we were to read about Arab communication skills, and the meaning of metaphor more than words themselves, how were their questions inflected, and what did they really mean?). Then I started thinking about the "power of knowledge" and all the problems that are within such a power, but then all the problems that exist within the idea itself given that knowledge seems such a relative term at times. In what ways were either side already coming with such a strong belief in their own knowledge that they felt they should be able to control the opinion of the other (thus perhaps closing themselves off to the others knowledge)? Of course the problem with such a question is also easily answered by the fact that this lecture was presented in a very 'political way' so to speak... where Dr. Gordon made many points and only referenced briefly the historical/economic/ perhaps even cultural reasonings that factor into the largest political stances of America, because I'm guessing he assumed that the knowledge he based his works off of was already understood by the audience... perhaps there would have been more open ears had he been willing to really flesh out such details without assuming them as "all-understood".

And so Muhamad spoke... speaking the same language may not necessarily lead to understanding. Indeed. What does lead to understanding then? Willingness to listen, for sure. But how do you reach that? What is knowledge and why does the assumption that we have it lead to a feeling of power or right over someone else? I hate writing questions like this because they seem so useless. i really haven't done a good job trying to think them out in this entry. In fact, i feel rather much like a flower power child high on something (not that i really know what that feels like, but i can only assume). I'm really only writing this entry because i haven't written in a while...

In other news for people who I haven't been in contact with. After next week on April 14th I'll be heading back to Wadi Rum, the town of Disi to study a type of poetical song called "Samir" that the 'bedouin' perform, and which i detailed previously in my discussions of my previous stay. I will be staying with the family of one of the people i stayed with before... so I've heard. Thus far they've refused my offerings of paying, as I will be completely dependent on them for the entirety of two weeks. I'm currently reading Layla Abu-Lughod's "Veiled Sentiments" in what little time I have here. I'm really enjoying the read and recommend it to anyone (it's easy).

Tomorrow is also our last day of classes. We have our final test in Arabic as well as last lecture for our "thematic seminar." Studying for the Arabic test will be interesting because I have been studying independently outside of class ever since we got back from Egypt, but will be held responsible for what was taught in their class. Thank God I like reviewing Arabic grammar.

That's all for now.

First things first: I'm sorry it's taken so long to write. We returned from Egypt just a few days ago (hence the pictures) and i've been trying to recover from the wonderful trip as fast as possible, but it seems my recovery didn't include writing a blog post. Although i feel like i should write about my time in Egypt, i'd rather like to focus this post on something that happened today here in Amman, because i feel like i've ignored subjects on this city for almost my entire time here. As might be expected with my writings, I haven't really thought out my ideas that are about to come, but rather hope to work them out through this entry... so stick with me if you wish. Otherwise you might just skip to the last paragraph (if there is one) and see what I'm saying there to see if it interests you.

So today after class I attended a lecture on "honer crimes" in Jordan, given by a Jordanian journalist Rana Husseini (female). Although i might have missed out on some of the information given in the lecture because i opted to not listen to the translator (the lecture was in Arabic), there were definitely general feelings that i picked up on that i'd like to discuss here. When thinking about the lecture in the taxi back home there were multiple thoughts stumbling through my mind. The first, was my reaction to the general feeling of reform and initiative for reform that i got from the lecture. Rana's stance was interesting, because while she made clear that she saw her only job as kind of "getting the news out there" (perhaps only a small, but nonetheless huge step for the process of ending honor crimes/ any type of crimes in general), she also pinpointed the very aspects of society that she felt needed to be changed... mostly emphasizing development in Education, cultural awareness, government awareness and intiative, and things like this. As soon as i heard this point, i thought back to our lecture with Mustafa Hamarneh, where he spoke about the "passivity" of the people on some level, particularly concerning political initiative and self-help orientation... I then thought back to the students in the group who then made it there job to "find the rebelious voice of Jordan" and find the grassroots organizations/movements of the Jordanian people.... Here in this small theatre, with no sign on front, or indication that it was a theatre, i felt as if i found some of those voices. But at the same time, I couldn't help but notice the socio-economic groupings. I'd say about half of the audience was foreign, listening to the lecture through a headset with English translation, the other half, seemingly arab. Obviously I can never know for sure the economic standings of these Arabs, but they appeared to me to be of the upper-mid class. I thought while in the lecture, about how a crowd of lower class, less educated Jordanians would take Rana's lecture. Aren't those the people that should be hearing her speak? Aren't those the people that we should be in conversation with? What really is the point of having this lecture to an audience that can simply nod their heads in agreement? These of course are questions that i should've been asking those around me, and possibly Rana herself, because i don't know that she hasn't taken lectures to these communities... but it was just a thought. the rebellion of the upper educated class against traditions that they don't associate with in the first place? does that work?

Another topic that i really want to address was the place of "Jordan" in her lecture. Rana made many points throughout her lecture noting that these problems of honor killings aren't a Jordanian problem, but rather a global one. She read letters from Australian children after her works had been published, that claimed how happy they were to have the freedoms they do in juxtoposition to the "poor" Jordanian women. One of the foreigners in the audience also tried to ask a question about how Jordanians (men and women) can really open up a discussion/ dialogue on women's sexuality here and how that might positively affect the picture and agency of Jordanian women against these crimes. Rana never really answered the question, because i fear she didn't really understand it... although at one point in the lecture (i'm not sure if it was actually in response to this question or not) she claimed that the west has a problem with dipping its hand in matters that aren't theirs, making it clear that the problem of these killings is something that Jordanians needed to deal with and handle, and not western organizations. It thus seemed at once that Jordan was an actor in crimes that are world spread, but also specific to itself? So when the foreigner tried to pose the question about "opening up a dialogue" was he simply preposing an outside idea that has no resonance with the community here? Is opening up a dialogue the only solution, or is it a "western" solution, that shouldn't necessarily apply to "arab culture" in Jordan? Perhaps the simple reason Rana didn't follow up with this man's question was because it got lost in translation, but i still can't help but feeling the gap of basic understanding between the two. It's like that feeling i get when hanging out with my few jordanian friends, and they begin singing a song well known by them, one known from childhood, one that everyone joins in as soon as started... and reminds me of some of the basic life happenings and communications that are amiss between us. On one level i feel like i over emphasize such small differences, but at the same time, I feel I can never truly know how big a gap these small morsels of experience make between us. And not to say that such a gap can never be breeched, but rather that i have so many things to learn before i can even really know how big such a gap is.

And just to return to this western/arab world/jordan dichotomy... When Rana spoke of an inspiring group of Arab men in Sweden called Sharaf heros... or Honor heros... she emphasized how surprised and elated she was to hear of a group of Arabs makings such a movement against these crimes. The point i'm trying to make is that she emphasized these crimes as one's that needed to be solved by "arabs."

I guess i'm just getting sick of trying to work out this west/arab binary. Sitting around arguing about if there is a west or an arab, and how we can and can't understand each other, or how we continue these "binaries" by continually talking about them really just bums me out and seems to lead no where. But is my frustration because i'm stuck in the language trap of former political movements, academics, and such, or because there really does exist such a gap that can't be passed, or because i just feel helpless when nothing is getting done regardless of whether there is a difference or not. How can i change my vocabulary and perspective to really see problems as they are and to see a way to solve them? Will i constantly be stuck in a culturally "aware" and overly conscientious zone that keeps me from doing anything as i claim theories of cultural relativism? Should i stay in my own business and deal with problems in my own country... but how does that work seeing as sometimes the differences between myself and those within my own country seem bigger than the with people here? I don't have answers for these questions right now, and i don't know that i should. These are just my thoughts.

best tour guide ever

boats at night

i've only got pictures of egypt at the moment

peter roaming

the pyramids...

pathetic attempt at day 3 and eventual submission to laziness

Day 3:

So it's official that i won't finish all of these days... but luckily Day 3 is what i would consider a normal enough day that within these three days one could get a general sense of my time in Wadi Rum.

So I woke around the same time, for about the same reasons... the rustling of goats and the rising of the sun. The morning functioned in about the same way as the last, except i was able to make myself more useful in washing the glasses that we would drink tea/milk from, putting away the blankets and mattresses that we slept on, and gathering my belongings without being confused. But before i get to that part, i of course made my way out into the open around the corner to go to the bathroom. Only thing different about this trip was that just as i was finishing up i would get to see a new truck fly by just in the distance, coming from where our camp was. Later i would find out that it was actually Um F's husband who stopped by for a short morning visit (she is one of 4 wives, the other 3 of which are Syrian). When i returned things were working as normal though, Um F collected the milk, people were rising, using the bathroom, praying. I sat and drank tea with milk. I eat some bread and olives with Reeadh and Um R. Um R and Um F are urgent this morning to get a move on with the goats as they have already headed out into the valley and weren't making any hint of waiting.

So I headed out with Um R and Um F, but today was different for the boys. Um R and Um F would let me know that the boys were heading off to "duuwam" (work hours) today, and that they wouldn't be back until sunset. We were to have the whole day by ourselves. So we headed out. First interesting work of the day: watching Um R pick up goat poop and apply it copiously to the utters of a mother goat. She would explain that it was so the baby goats wouldn't drink it and that we could in turn milk the goat in the morning and drink it ourselves. Why hadn't i thought of such an ingenious strategy. Since i was caring the water jug at the time, I was blessed with the role of pouring the water on her hands as she used the sand as her soap. She called the sand the "bedouin soap," something that reminded me of my own camping experiences, using sand as dishwasher detergent for dirty plates and such when all else was amiss. She also praised me for knowing how to pour the right amount of water on her hands in cycles as she would scrub at the remaining feces. Although my initial reaction to such a comment in my mind was "what type of idiot wouldn't know how to conserve water while in the desert by intervalling water dispension" [note i realize that those aren't real words...i have my own vocabulary] it also got me thinking about the expectations Um R had of me. Was i simply a western accustomed to washing my hands under bountiful amounts of rushing water (which i am) or perhaps just the ignorant one? Both would be warranted of course, because i hadn't given them any reason to believe that i knew anything about camping, living in a desert, or living with limited supplies. And the more that i got to know Um R and realized the limited expectations/understanding of the world i came from, i don't feel that it was less of an expectation that a westerner wouldn't understand, but simply that someone who hadn't lived in the desert wouldn't understand. To a large extent i don't think Um R really cared what type of life i lived, what i knew of camping, or how my life compared, I was just someone who had apparently come to learn the "bedouin lifestyle" (as she would explain to her guests) and that was what she was going to show me. So please... dispense accordingly.

We marched along the sand, and conversation between the Um's continued as it had before. Jokes, arguments about where to go, gossip. I noticed Um R's habit of picking up a certain weed that grew, collecting as much as possible and then feeding it to the goats... it's amazing how much food you can make out of what seems like barren land. Conversation also started around the "gula3". As soon as we past the first corner the Um's were explaining to me this place that i could vaguely see out in the distance. They named it the "gula3" (which means fortress/castle i believe) and explained out it was a tourist camp. I was at first confused about them naming it the "gula3," assuming that they had some fantastical notion about how the tourists lived there, and that although just a mere camp, they named is a "gula3" because of the extravagance of the camp in general. Only later once we climbed a nearby mountain side and i got a better view of the camp did i realize that it actually was a fortress... Although i never got close enough to make out what was really going on with that structure, it appeared a newly built castle with an essence of roman/crusader influences in the architecture. Something wretched inside me when i saw it, but then again, i knew that the difference between myself and those tourists i would see off in the distance was only miniscule and probably non-existent to the family i was staying with.... plus i knew that the fortress was locally owned, so how could i really complain about someone getting his daily bread? Obviously the topic needs more discussion than this small paragraph does justice, but just as Um R and Um F left it as a source of enjoyment to joke about, I'll leave it there in the distance.

So we walked over to the next closest mountain. At around 9 we made a brief stop, I laid down in the warmth of the sun that just poked through the clouds (it was cold and cloudy that day... which was made clear to me by the quick and lively comments of "Bared!" (cold!) by Um F that would intiate conversation between us). After a bit Um R prayed. I dozed off momentarily. Then we were up again for a bit, exploring the "fura3" of the mountains (the indentation/cliff things...). Soon enough we made another stop for tea. We had carried two things on this trip, a bag and a water jug. In the bag were the supplies necessary for making tea... bowl for washing dishes, 3 glasses, the pot, the tea, the sugar. Made a quick fire and drank. Then as soon as we were done we were up again and moving around the side of the mountain. After a while, it was decidedly time to go back and make lunch. Um R and I were to walk back together on our own and make lunch while Um F stayed with the goats and made her way over later. Only half way through our 20 minute walk back to camp did Um R venture to ask me (as i was carrying the bag of supplies) "do we have the lighter." The answer was no of course, because Um F keeps it in her bra/ miracle carrier of all random objects. We marched on with the hope that there was the second one around camp, but there wasn't. So we gathered all supplies for making lunch (foods/larger pans/the "markub" (base to place things on over the fire), and of course tea supplies) and headed right back. It was another one of those moments that i was amazed at Um R's strength and stubbornness. She always walked with a limp from the pained right knee she had, but never changed due course because of it. Ultimately she could have waited for Um F to return with the goats and make the lunch then, but i guess that just would've been wasted time. When we returned, Um F was yelling at us asking why we had returned and Um R just shouted back that we didn't have a lighter. There was a brief argument about where the other lighter was when we finally got close enough to have a real conversation, but it was settled quickly, and we sat together to make lunch. I believe it was tomatoes, potatoes, and some salsa made in a stew with some oil/garlic/salt and then eaten with bread. hearty and good. We started to make tea afterwards, but then for some reason decided to move... so I carried the pot full of hot tea to the next location, where we poured the tea out, sat and drank quickly before we started off again. At this time we also stopped carrying our supplies and simply left them next to a bush to be picked up on the way home.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with climbing the side of this mountain. A large proportion also concerned Um F chasing after the goats as they headed aimlessly up one particular branch out of site and stubbornly didn't return to the calls of the Um's. While Um F chased, Um R and i explored a second branch. She was picking up an herb called "SheeH" which they would put in tea or eat straight. I don't know what type of herb it was, but it was tasty, especially in tea, and supposed to be healthy. This was the time at which I also got to have a good real look at the "gula3" that i explained earlier. It was also the same time we saw about 40-60 tourists cross the path we had taken heading to the fortress. Um R had a fun time yelling out at them "suuwaHH!" (tourists!) i think just for the fun of it/ also to point them out to Um F. They were too far away to notice. I thought back to the way that my friends and i viewed tourists at home (living on the outer banks of North Carolina and vehemently hating tourists particularly for their poor driving abilities and presumed general ignorance). Um R seemed to be reveling in the situation at the moment.

After finally rallying the goats, the Um's and I started heading back to camp. It was probably around 5 at this time. We went back to pick up our things and then started the march back. The boys hadn't returned by the time we got back, so we sat around a new fire and drank tea. When the boys came, it was just Reeadh and Ghalib, and only they would remain with us for that night. They brought veggies, food, filtered water for me to drink, and other small supplies. We could a dinner of spinach, veggies, potatoes in a stew and then ate them with bread. Afterwards was followed with time of tea, singing, and gossip. Then setting out of the mattresses... i was still between the Um's and the boys were on the other side of the camp fire.

About the other days:

The other days followed in a very similar manner to this one with one major change to the schedule. The um's and i would take out the goats for the very earliest shift, just for an hour or so. Eventually Reeadh and Ghalib would come up in the truck with things to make lunch, upon which Ghalib would take Um R and I to a second location were we would waste a little time and then start making lunch waiting for Um F and Reeadh to bring the goats at lunch time. Waiting for the herders was filled with napping in the sun, tea drinking, picking herbs, climbing rocks, making lunch, praying, etc.
After lunch i would walk again with the Um's and the goats, while the boys went off in the truck to visit family, go to town, set up camp (or move camp as what happened the last day) and then would reconvene at the campsite for dinner. on the fourth day Um R's children (3 of the 5) came to visit from the town. Her oldest daughter Fatima was engaged and brought her fiance with her... who i also think was her cousin. I had conversations with her about marriage, and Um R made her ask me about my facial creams and also the green liquid that i used at night for my teeth (mouth wash)... all of which she would inspect and reiterate that they could be found here in Jordan as well.

There are many other conversations that were worth note during this trip, but it's time for me to move back into writing about my time here in Amman.

Day 2. holler at your boy when you see him in the wadi.

if you look close enough at the first picture... you will see Ghalib's name engraved on the wall... just above the hood.

the second pic is of lunch with Rachel's Fam.


Given the extensive length of that last post in proportion to the amount that it covered in terms of time spent, I'm personally doubting that my decided method of recording is not going to get finished anytime soon. But none the less, i will try to sum Day 2 up a little better and see if i can cover some of the main topics that puzzled me in general about this trip.

I woke up to the sound of shuffling feet, snorts, and lame baaahhh's as the arisen goats putted around the camp site looking for food to snack on. At first i was the only one awake, so i decided to role over and cover my head until others took action. Um R eventually arose and shoo-ed them away [in the goat call for 'go away' which is relatively equivalent to the "kh" letter in Arabic, but truly closest to the sound of one about to hock a loogey] and then headed to cleanse herself before Fujr prayer (morning prayer). As soon as she got up, i decided to make my first bathroom venture in the desert, sensing that i wouldn't be in any need to help with chores until everyone arose. Thus I headed around the corner, popped a squat, enjoyed the fresh and crisp air, and returned back to camp. Um F was still sleeping, lifting her head occasionally to shoo the goats away as well. She eventually got up to cleanse and pray as well. i decided to jot down some notes while i could, until the whole group started to wake and it was clear that things were starting to be done.

First, the fire. After her prayers Um R started up the fire for tea. Once the pot was on, she started to fold up the mattresses and blankets that we slept on. I quickly lend a hand, as she explained to me that mattresses went in one bag with the pillows, while blankets in another. She then asked me to sit, as she would constantly be doing throughout the trip, asking me to rest. I sat next to the fire. Reaadh was the first of the men to stir, getting up to coral in the goats that had mingled further away, and also set out their morning bread crumbs for them to eat. Um F or Um R collected milk from a momma goat. He boiled in a separate pot and then drank sweet tea with milk. Um R, Reaadh, Um F and i then sat around the fire and ate bread with some olives [which i would find out were from their backyard... the big ones were Um R's and the smaller ones Um F's].

once done eating, Um R, Um F and i headed out with the goats. The other men had only just awoken and were sipping their tea and milk. Um R had made a big deal that i take my bag with the cleaned water i had in it... which i thought was because she wanted to drink the clean water, but only realized later (as the pattern continued throughout the whole trip) that she was actually concerned about my valuables (i.e. phone/camera)... which i had forgotten to place in the bag actually. Funny how that works. Also something funny... as we headed around the first corner of the mountain i was struck by the sound of a gun shot coming from our camp. i spun around just in time to see the pigeon fall from the nook that Um R and Reaadh had pointed out to me earlier that morning. he'd be on the grill later that night.

So i headed out with the two women that i could understand the least well, and wondered how i would deal with that. Most of the time walking with the goats i spent simply listening to them rant. From what i could understand they were ranting mostly about where to go and what the goats should eat there. I loved the way they interacted. Every statement was so matter of fact, told in the only quick and snappy language they seemed to speak. After rounding the first corner, Um F plopped down on the ground for a moment, signaled for me to sit next to her, reached in her shirt to her bra, pulled out her cig's and lighter, and smoked her first cig for the day. This habit continued throughout the morning. If one of them felt compelled that it was time to move on, they would squeeze out a "yella" as they raised themselves gingerly from their indian-style seating (especially Um R because she had a bad knee and was clearly older than Um F) and would start to walk. If the other protested it would almost always come in the form of a yell "let them eat!" or "let them see the land!" (khaleeha takul/ khaleeha shoof al-baled). Sometimes the argument would continue, sometimes not, either way it was always worked out quickly and never by words, but by actions. I.E. if the one person who wanted to leave seceded, they sat back down or waited, but if the other seceded, they simply stood up and started walking. No need for formalities like "you're right" and "ok."

So we roamed around. I continued to listen to their conversations, and would sometimes ask names of plants. Um F picked up empty snail shells off the ground (don't be disgusted, they were actually beautiful and white... looked a lot like sea shells... which i actually asked if they were... that's right, i asked if there were sea shells in the desert) and spat the name out at me. At another point Um R started digging out one particular plant from the ground, took out the root, brushed it off, peeled the dirty skin and ate it. She dug out a second one for me. i felt like i was back in the days of picking out onion grass from the backyard and ate the slightly sweet, sand tasting root. it was refreshing.

The atmosphere was always light. they joked with each other, about what, i often had no clue. If i did get it, i'd join in on the laughter and they'd turn to me, then to the other and point out 'tufham' (she understands) or even better and more commonly 'tudhhuk' (she laughs). Being able to laugh together and at each other was probably the strongest thing that tied us together in the end.

At one point around 9:30 Um R made the point to stop and pray. without a prayer rug or any way to clean, she simply bent down, swept her right hand across the dirt in one motion, clearing the area where she would place her head, stood back up and started the prayer. Um F sat and waited [being the less observant of the two Um F usually only prayed once or twice a day, and usually at night, where as Um R prayed every day at nearly the exact same times: 6, 9:30, 12, 3, sunset, after dinner. I have no idea why she prayed 6 times a day, and i never ventured to ask her as i was scared that any discussion of religion would only lead to disappointment with me. Either way i loved the conviction with which she prayed, as it correlated directly with her persevering and strong personality. She spoke in nearly common speaking voice when she prayed alone, so loud that i could nearly hear every word. She emphasized every letter.] After prayer we picked right back up where we were and walked along.

Soon enough Reaadh and Ghalib pulled up in the truck... they had packed up the entire camp back into the truck as we were to be moving to a new location today. I hopped in the truck with Um R and we headed to a site where Rachel and her family were sitting around the fire, sipping tea and starting to prepare lunch. Eventually more people came to join (Ahmed, Abdullah and his wife (ahmed's sister), the older mother of Rachel's family). They made a wonderful meal of this thick doe they stuck right in the embers of the fire, took out after cooked, pulled apart, and then mixed with milk (see picture below of man mashing milky bread). The lot was separated into two bowls, Rachel and I were allowed to eat with the men and the oldest mother of Rachel's family since we were guests. it was delicious. [note: i need not forget to mention that before this wonderful meal, rachel and i were offered packaged chips similar to cheetoh's, which we ate. These among other snacks like little packages cakes were among some of the junk food used as fillers in between meals sometimes.]

After the meal Ghalib took Um R and I in the truck to the new camp site, which is where we would sleep for the remaining days (with the exception of the last night that we spent right next to town). It was colder and more open than the last site, but faced the side of a golden mountain. Once there we started unpacking some, and another fire was immediately started up. Reeadh had been left to bring the goats all the way to the new camp site (a considerable walk i must say) so we didn't see him until near sunset. I dozed off quickly sitting in the sun for warmth and was quickly shuffled onto a mattress and under a blanket. i slept briefly and was awakened for more food. Abdullahs wife had cooked kebsah... a gulf food which actually i had initially thought was buryani. The difference wasn't that big i can assure you. Either way it was good. After the meal Um F headed for a nap, while I sat with Um R and Abdullah's wife. we spoke of things: what i was studying, facial cream against the sun, religion. For the most part abdullah's wife acted as a mediator between Um R and I, translating our two different versions of arabic to the other.

The afternoon passed quickly. I don't really know where the time went, but we amused ourselves with preparing dinner... (luckily not everyday was filled with so many meals and preparation). Later that night once everyone had re-gathered at the camp and we had set up camp much better (using the two trucks we had now, as abdullah had his there, as wind barriers. Abdullah's wife made the traditional bedouin bread Shirak (thin) and we ate it with a type of veggie stew thing (mostly tomatoes. After the meal and after the prayers, we sat around the fire drinking tea. They spoke of people in town, joked around, Ghalib, Ahmed, Abdullah, Reaadh all got up at points and did the same traditional song that had always been done. Um R got me to clap along with them. After a while of insisting from the men, Um R finally got up to dance briefly... I couldn't help but laugh at the semi-robotic motions she made recognizing her poor rhythm or gracefulness. Um R called for me to dance after much insistence from the men as well, which i only accepted after Um R's rendition (this way i had at least some idea of the motions that were supposed to be done). Essentially the dance was a waving of the arms in the air with the rhythm, and then at the end when the speed picked up, to simply keep up and jump around a bit... all in a days work. They praised my dancing skills, i laughed at myself the whole time, and we all laughed. It seemed as if they appreciated the gesture, although I'm sure they could have just as easily thought it was the biggest wreck of their dance they'd ever seen. We'll never know now either way. Eventually the time came for sleep. we slept.

Observations:

Joking with people: the men commonly joked with the Um's about little things so that everyone could get a laugh. For instance, during lunch there was at one point a big black crawly bug on the ground that i had pointed out. Um R's initial reaction was to ask "where?!" frantically. After which, Ahmed yelled out at Um R that there was one crawling on her... she had a normal brief spaz attack, and then upon realizing the joke sat and laughed with everyone. They pointed out to Rachel and I that they love playing jokes on her about stuff like that.
I also got to enjoy on joking on Um R with Um F, but on a different matter: her allergy to banana's. Um R would often refuse foods or juices claiming that she had an allergy.... even when it was made clear that there was no banana or banana derivative in the food/drink. I learned about this from the very first afternoon when Um R refused a wrapped choco cake thing from Um F because of her "hisasia" (allergy), Um F started yelling at her about how there were no banana's in the food, as Um R just kept pushing on that she had an allergy. I laughed at the situation, Um F joined me, and Um R smirked.
I think of course my favorite on going joke of the week had to do with a wonderful comparison that Um R made between bats and pigeons. On the first night, Abdullah was explaining to me the word echo in arabic, and after i understood what it meant, used it to explain the word for bat saying "the bat is the animal that uses the echo in order to get around." At first i didn't know what he was talking about because i had gotten caught up on his accent, and then Um R took it upon herself to further explain what animal he was talking about thinking that saying "it's like a pigeon" would help. Everyone started laughing at her. She tried to explain herself by saying that the bat was a flying animal, and thus like a pigeon. But then Abdullah turned to me to affirm her silliness, asking "is the bat like a pigeon?" I then realized what had gone on, laughed, turned to her and said "like a pigeon?" She laughed with me at it. The joke would come up other nights around the fire whenever it was time to poke fun at her, and soon many things turned to be "like a pigeon".

-I also noticed the enthusiasm with which Ghalib wrote his name on the sides of the mountains where we stayed. He had done it last night, and then again had started chipping away within 5 seconds of arriving at the new camp site. He chipped at the wall sometimes with a different stone, sometimes with a hammer. Either way, he ended up writing his entire name. There were numerous other names written on the same mountain side where we stayed. Sometimes they would discuss who was who, where he was now, and who he was married to. One time Ghalib stopped right in the middle of song as he recognized a name on the wall that he hadn't seen before (i have no idea how he saw it in the dim fire light we had that night). Ghalib also continued the tradition of writing his name nearly where ever we went, as long as we had time: where we stopped for lunch, resting places for the goats, etc. Another fun thing that got written on the side of the wall: love connections. Upon discovering a certain type of root/plant called "mosroor" in Arabic ("happy/elated") near our camp, Abdullah explained to me that the bloody red head of the plant was used to write on walls, while the root was to be eaten. Later that night while around the camp fire, Ahmed took plant and began drawing. Then outcome: a big heart with an arrow through it, with A's on both ends of the arrow and then the names "3abeer" and "Ahmed" in Arabic. He is to get married in the next few months to 3abeer and was expressing his excitement at the occasion. I saw at other locations the same picture, but with sometimes only the name of a man and then a question mark at the other end. I guess the only thing that struck me as odd is that there were never traces of women writing on the walls, only men. I wonder if it was an issue of honor/ modesty, but really have no idea, because i never asked.

3rd thing: recognizing the sheer poetry of Ghalib. I had noticed from the very beginning that he sang nearly constantly... around the fire at morning, in the car while driving, walking to the bathroom, at night of course. He would also sometimes recite songs/poems in a regular voice to the group even if no one was particularly listening. I noticed that his fosHa was nearly perfect in that way.... but perhaps it came simply from memorizing so many poems and songs. I showed him the poetry i had from a local Ammani poet (see below below blog about 'what do you speak'...he's the poet). He obviously didn't know who he was. Then we discussed some songs we might know shared. I tried out Marcel Khalife on him, but he didn't know the song "ummi" so i figured it was worth stopping at there, since my knowledge and memorization of arabic music is mostly limited to pop (of course it turned out him and Ahmed would rendition off Nancy Ajram and other pop stars as well). Although by this point i couldn't really understand what they were singing about, still getting used to the rhythm and intonation of the words, it's something i hope to pursue in my ISP later. i'll discuss the songs in more detail for another day when i actually started understanding them.

===I'm going to skip out on analyzing this one. Day 3 will end in some discussion of these observations in better detail.

We went to the Dead Sea and the Jordan River. here are some random pictures.

a little view of the city on the way back

perhaps it is 'your' welcome ketan... I want you to keep it. it's yours now.

what's that china? you said you liked to do the robot?







...

Day 1

There is so much that i want to document from my trip to Wadi Rum and from my week long excursion into the desert with four kind locals of the area, but i simply can't fit it all into this journal for all to see. So after some hard thinking about how i want to get this down, I've decided a strategy. Firstly I want to give a basic timeline of general occurrences and events of the week, so that an essenblance of time and people can be understood. I will organize each day into one blog, and within that day choice specific moments that i'd like to highlight. I'm sorry if this is overwhelming or at times seems unorganized or poorly written, but for the sake of simply recording information, it will be that way.

** ALSO **. i would like to say that I already have a problem with the idea of 'going to live with bedouins' for a week and feeling as if i've had an "authentic" experience, and then coming back and writing about it as if I can take the brief experience i had and translate it into a reality of "bedouin life". I'm keenly aware of the how the language barrier affected my general understanding of daily routines and conversation, as well as how my very existence within the setting affected every interaction. Thus, this is only my experience, through my eyes, my memory, and my voice... please remember that.

on romanticizing: I don't know where to begin with this subject... suffice it to say that I will inevitably indulge in details of everyday interactions in my writing, perhaps in descriptions of images/peoples faces/language/beauty/differences between men and women, etc. These indulgences, in my mind, should be seen more as a highlight of MY OWN creation rather than that of an existing phenomenon in front of me. The beauty of a women/man/mountain that i describe to you is only a beauty that I see through my culturally and personally filtered eyes. Thus, while reading this, I ask you to be just as conscious of who I am and what I see, as you are of what you think "is there" and what really happened on my trip.... i.e. i think i just said the exact same thing as above, but i wanted to emphasize that any exotification/romanticizing is unintentional and subjective.

Day 1.

We all headed to the bus station at 9AM to catch a bus together down to Wadi Rum in the south of Jordan. We were to exit at the Wadi Rum town exit, where we were to be picked up by Bashir. There Bashir picked us up, and loaded all 15 of us into every nook and cranny of two regular sized trucks (most of us on the backs) I was in the back of the truck with 6 other SITers as we soaked in the sun and the amazing beauty of our new surroundings. The mountains here are like i've never seen. The weather was warm and dry. I had to pee really badly. We swerved off road finally where Bashir took us to this little incampent/restaurant for tourists in the middle of no where. There we ate lunch and shuffled into our new "bedu" clothes... the men dawning there dish-dashes and the women our black dresses and hijab [note: i actually only decided to where the clothes i bought until we had got back into the truck to head to our families... i.e. Zoë changed into a dress in the back of a truck as she bounced around and nearly fell off. All was well in the end]. After a great meal and some rest under a "bayt sha3r" (woolen tent that is amazing at blocking heat and sun) we loaded back up in the trucks with bashir. He took us to the smaller town (ad-deesa) and as we drove through the town were dropped off with families we crossed. Julia, Rachel, and I were the in the second group to get picked up. We loaded into a new truck with Abdullah, his wife, his little girl, and then 3-4 other small boys hopped on the back [note: this was to be Rachel's family] and we headed to the desert. Abdullah's wife and the daughter who sat in the front kept turning back, looking at us and smiling. We exchanged small conversation, but not much. We headed out to the desert. I asked how far it was, the response: Ba3eed (far). Bounced around for a bit, then at one point Rachel, Julia, the mother and daughter got out and were to walk away as Abdullah was to take me to my homestay. We started driving in a new directions, but he soon realized that he didn't know exactly where the family was. Luckily within a few minutes, a truck pulled up. A young man jumped out of the drivers seat, but i didn't know this was going to be my family right away, until he told me to get out and get my things. As i got out, i was introduced to Reaadh, who would become my homestay brother [note: i noticed many similarities between him and my oldest brother Luke as time went on... i think it runs in the 'oldest son of the family' position despite the seeming difference in family structures]. I don't really remember meeting Um Fahid officially, but I'm sure i must have seen her and shook her hand as I walked around to the passenger door and hopped in (she would have been climbing into the back at this point so that i could sit up front).

As i hauled myself up into my house family's truck and wiggled in next to who i would soon learn was my host mom, i was met by a face i don't think i'll easily forget. Her skin as you might see in some of the pictures i've posted was ablaze with the remnants of sun, dark red and brown. Her eyes were squinting, she held her head high, shook my hand, but made no effort to be openly welcoming. She was so short that her feet didn't reach the floor of the truck without effort, but her build appeared strong. When i look back on it now knowing the intensely strong personality of Um Reaadh (i.e. Reaadh's mother) I compare the face only to that of the so eloquent song "Wutang clan ain't nothin' to fuck with" (excuse language)... she being the Wutang clan. Of course, at the time it was less humorous, as I came with my normal worries of hoping to be accepted by my family and was only met by what seemed like the eyes of wariness, caution, and pre-judgment that i couldn't escape. I pushed onto her my normal greetings in my shy voice "Marhaban, Kayf Halik?" (Hi how are you). Her response was a short and sharp "Bkhayr!" (well!). I responded "Alhamdillah". She looked suspicious at the last comment I made, and added with squinty eyes "Ah. Alhamdillah." as if she hadn't expected to hear it from me [as i noted in my past blog, Um R took interest in these comments on my part. I guess she never expected me to praise the lord? Perhaps she thought i just didn't speak Arabic? Perhaps to her, these outbursts were a sign of properness? I make that last statement, because she also took as much interest in the fact that at one time in the first day i had asked about if they say "3sht" for "shukran" here... but she had misunderstood me and instead went into an explanation that "yes! you say Thank you and I say your welcome! (Shukran/ A3fuan). and there after whenever i would say Shukran to her she would always exclaim clearly to me "A3fuan!" and then if her son (or anyone she felt like telling) was around, she would point out that 'look she says Shukran and I say A3fuan!' I really don't know why she was so interested in these comments, but either way it was one of the few things that she seemed to really appreciate and that knocked away slowly at that stone wall face i got from the beginning.


That was the end of our interaction for a bit as Reaadh hopped in and began to drive us to the place where we'd sleep that night. I don't exactly remember the full extent of the conversation in the car. I remember being explained that Reaadh was Um Reaadh's son, being asked questions about where i was from, and that's about it. We arrived at our sleeping sight soon enough, which was simply a nook next to a mountain. We parked the car and got out. As soon as we got out Reaadh went into a brief lecture about how I was to be one of them, work with them, help them, and then i would be treated as one of them. We started to unload the car, but only basic things. I don't remember the exact course of events at this time. I do remember being taken out by a small tour by Reaadh. He explained to me the names of the area, the names of distant mountains, the names of shrubs and if the goats could eat them and for how long (p.s.. hadn't seen the goats yet), he gave me little tests on the names and I was pleased to be learning quickly. [note that Reaadh's arabic was much easier to understand than the mothers... so these initial conversations came easily as we could both understand each other]. We came back briefly, but then went around the corner to visit Rachel's family (abdullah) for just one moment. We then headed back. On the walk back Reaadh either explained that i would/ asked if i wanted an Arab name, and it became clear that i was to have one. He first tried to give me "3eaad" which i guess is a common Bedu name, but i refused it... too boring. He then started to list off names. I told him that i wanted one with an 3ein in it, and he listed off a few names. I didn't take to any of them at first, but then we came across "3iTaaf." It probably stuck out to me because of the recognizable root of 3ein, Tah, fa... which has forms for compassion, affection, tenderness and love. So i chose it and made it a goal to respond to it from the very beginning... it didn't turn out to be too difficult because of the emphasis with which they called it every time (as part of their way of speech, they called names forcefully and spoke forcefully, plus my ears were always open either way). Then we climbed over a small hedge of rock and waited for the goats to come in. It seemed quite amazing to me at first that within one minute of making it clear that we would now wait for the goats, they came into sight in the distance and then were greeting us within minutes. I have no idea how he timed that so well, but i guess it's just a matter of really understanding the time schedule of this process... which i did come to understand better later. With the goats, were two men [I would come to find out later were both 21 but they appeared at the time much older than me]. The first to meet was Ahmed (who is Um Fahid's son) and then Ghalib (a friend of the family, who actually lives in the next town but would sleep with us for the entire time i was there... I'm sure more details on him are to come). Ahmed took to me first with his wide perky smile and was more talkative. Ghalib was more distant. We walked around with the goats briefly, letting them get their last share of dinner. At this time Ahmed pointed out to me a new baby goat, named Sahim. He had a twin brother who wasn't name, so they let me name him. I named him Naseem ('breeze') [p.s. Allison West/Owais/Lizz Huntley... if you're reading this I hope you are laughing now because whenever people ask me to name masculine beings in Arabic I always choose the name of our oh-so-loving syrian friend. Is he still in Britain?].

Afterwards we headed back to camp and started getting things set up for the night. A fire had been started and we were soon to be drinking tea. At one point Um R took out what appeared to me to be a cow's stomach... she started shaking it around (it was clear there was a liquid in it). Later it would be explained to me that this was a "Si3en" that you put milk in and make butter out of. When time came for prayer, they all went to pray. The men and women separately. In order to help out, I told Um R that i would shake the si3en so that she could go pray. She refused multiple times, but i simply ordered her to go pray. She didn't refuse. I sat down with the thing, and started replicating the motions she had made. She didn't want my hands to get dirty and went out of her way to give me plastic bags to put on the sac (which was filthy with something but i wasn't too concerned... i had already accepted that filth was an inseparable part of life in the desert). I appreciated her concern.

I believe after prayer they made dinner. I think the men made it this time. Potatoes, tomatoes, some canned beans, 'salsa', all stewed in a pot over a fire. The stew was distributed into two bowl/pans, one for the men to eat at and one for the women. We gathered around our separate bowls with bread, and began to eat. Um R insisted that i eat with a spoon, and i did take a few bites out of it to appease her, but otherwise i ate as they did scooping food out with the bread or using my hands (thank you trip to Pakistan/ eating with Owais Gilani for having already made this a familiar process).

Guests came and left throughout the night. at dinner we another Abdullah come [he would be around in upcoming events]. While drinking tea after the meal I was also introduced to the traditional singing that would entertain every evening with my family. Ghalib and Ahmed were the most avid, they'd get up, stand next to each-other, sway and start clapping. Ghalib usually started the exchange as words exploded from his mouth following the rhythmic tune in harmony with his clapping hands and swaying body. Ahmed would match his explosion at the end of Ghalib's outburst in the exact same harmony and rhythm, The exchange would go on for as long as they liked. i couldn't understand what they were saying most of the time, although i would pick out words, and could tell by laughs and glances that someone (i think everyone was picked out at some point) was being made fun of. Reaadh also joined in. they asked me to dance, but i refused. Later all the men went to Rachel's family and the Um's and i sat around the fire. I tried my best for conversation with them. I asked them about singing. Um R explained to me how women have different songs, and that even within women they have different songs. She explained that now that she and Um F are of the "kibar" (elderly) they sing a certain song. She sang it for me. It was a simple song praising god, not overly melodious or lively. But then she sprang into the songs of the younger women, which were a bit peppier. I don't remember exactly what those songs were about. As the fire died out and it got late, we set up our sleeping area (inch thick mattresses that we put on the ground next to the truck/pillows for each person/and thick blankets and comforters that we shared together). Um R had made it clear to me from the beginning of the day that i would be sleeping in between the two Um's and therefore that there was nothing to be scared of. She would explain it to me by drawing it out on the ground, one line pointing to her, next to another parallel line (me), next to another (Um F). Then, we slept. Then men came back later and woke us up, but we simply told them to be quiet and slept.

Some observations:

-the difference of the language. They speak very quickly and it's very thick and heavy. I was also in such awe of how "standard" it is (i.e. how close it is to classical Arabic). Although i could by no means understand everything they were saying (especially the mothers) I would catch the use of words in specific contexts and be amazed, particularly at the way that one root will be used in all of its possible forms. The accent they have, and way of speech is something i would love by the end though, mostly for the comedy i found in it. It's very forceful, quick and sharp. It peeks with the first syllable and then kind of dies off at the end, so that sometimes even the last letter is barely enunciated. When you get two people speaking to each-other, the conversation is so fast. Each one spits out their comments, peaking at the beginning, and if by chance their comments carry on for more than a second, they will tater down into a lower tone (obviously depending of placement in a conversation). Two words I'd love to hear out of Um R's mouth that easily summed up this accent were "Bkhayr" and "Jibal". They'd come flying at you every now and then, so quickly that you'd think they were just one letter that came out in a quick hic-up of language.

-phrases for getting people to listen: "Isma3" (listen!) and my favorite "Sella 3la an-nubi" (pray on the prophet). i noticed that the former was used in a more general sense to get attention before speaking, where as the later was used more to introduce a topic that might be a bit more profound, was something they would be surprised by, or had more importance.

-Being explained to me by Um R that she and Um F (who are neighbors) and her son, actually live in town. they come out to the desert for "rihlat" (trips) usually on weekends and usually for only a few days, because they miss the desert. they would be staying out extra long this time though because i was there.---> Was one of the most blatant ways of how these people had changed their lifestyle to suite me.

-Reaadh made a point to say that he studied one class at the University of Jordan in Amman a year ago about computers. In the same conversation he explained that he works in town 3 days a week, but otherwise he is with the goats. I didn't ever really figure out was his work was.

- Um R and F talking about facial cream. Um R had at one point started talking to Um F about how she was burning under her eyes and how bad her skin was there. She had then asked me if I had cream to protect me from the sun. i said yes. She used the phrase "the sun ate me" (akaletnee ash-shumss) to talk about the difference between her skin color and mine.
Speaking of new ways for using the word "to eat" in Arabic.--- Reaadh at one point showed me a game that you play in the sand with sticks and stone on a grid that you have to arrange in a line to win. I lost each time i played him, but Ghalib always beat Reaadh. When Ghalib beat him he used the phrase "I ate you" (Akeltik).

jeez. and that's just day 1.

the mountains
the fam
me and Um Reaadh
Um Fahid milking the goat
Reaadh (R) and Abdullah(L) making food
Um Fahid, the moon, the goats

them goats

jibal

Thurs March 1st
we returned today from our rural homestays. As i sit trying to think about the things i've learned during the experience, it again becomes to hard to pinpoint what it was exactly that i experienced. I don't know why it's become so hard to be an "active" participant in my experiences, but perhaps it's simply because i haven't had time to write out my thoughts and physical feel and touch the remnants of this experience at my finger tips, literally looking at the words and thoughts that run through my mind as i contemplate the world around me.

As I'm tired at the moment I'd like to just sum up a favorite moment of the trip briefly:
There was a moment while i was out with my two host mothers, shepherding the goats that i thoroughly appreciated. We were taking a moments break and sitting while the goats where eating the "kham" (one of the many new plants i learned about on the trip) when Um Reaad exclaimed out simply and pointedly "subHan Allah aj-jibal." (Praise the lord, the mountains literally in Arabic, but what is more commonly understood as something like "wow, the mountains"). I myself had been in utter awe of the mountains, especially earlier on that very day, and had thought to myself how lucky i was to be able to appreciate such a view. I had also been critical in my mind, thinking, "I wonder if they look onto these mountains with the fresh eyes that i do and appreciate the sheer beauty of the land?" cynically assuming that they took for granted what was right in front of them. What i loved about Um Reaadh's outburst is that she proved me wrong.

It also got me thinking about some of my first words when i saw these mountains the first day. I said to myself "This type of stuff would make someone believe in God." The next day i had a conversation with my second host mother (note this is all before Um Reaadh's outburst) asking her if it was the wind that made the beautiful shapes in the mountain sides (something that already assumed was true from what little geological knowledge i could muster up from 8th grade science, but thought would be fun to toss up as an icebreaker of conversation). Yet her response wasn't what i expected. She responded that "no no, not the wind. They're just that way SubHan allah." If i hadn't taken that 8th grade science class and felt so assured that it was indeed the wind and some geological phenomenon that made these mountains, would i simply agree with her? And if i did agree with her, and believed that it was the work of God, would i be offended when someone who didn't believe in God came and tried to tell me that it was simply the air that i breathe every day, that made such beautiful shapes? Later that day Um Reaadh was getting more interested in me as she heard me claim the auto-responsive "In Sha allah's" and "Alhamdi"s in selective parts of conversation (i.e. speaking about future events, or about my health and family). Eventually she asked me "do you pray?" I said no. I sensed the utter disappointment in her face as she had been praising for so long all day to her friend, but now had nothing to claim in glory of my response. Was i in some way rejecting the very foundation upon which she understands the mountains around her? Would i be just as upset if i asked someone "do you believe in gravity?" and they said "nope"? Of course, I don't want to go as far as to say that science and religion are two separate entities, because one can always be a believer in the fact that the wind makes those mountains, and then be enamored by the amazing harmony with which this world circles. Nor do i really want to break down this conversation into one of educated people with 8th grade science vs. those without it and their tendencies to be more spiritual. on the contrary i know that there are millions of many more important factors that have affected the religiosity of my host mothers, and i could never really understand the weight with which the beauty of the mountains carried within those factors. I guess the point here is simply to re-illustrate the power within some religious manifestations and how structurally complicated it is to really question religious beliefs. Like the astonishingly complex, intricate, and individual carvings on the face of each mountain and the unknown elements that form them, I may never know all the factors that have molded a belief in God, nor may i understand their resonating strength within them because each one is so individual and not my own (i.e. if we were to refer back to the rock analogy, this would be the structural integrity of an individual carving, like those ones that look like they could crack at the blink of an eye, but then you notice the enormous rock balancing precariously from above that must have been there for a century or so and you just can't understand it).

i'm too unorganized to end this post, so that's it.

yuh

it's abu ali. at the kishk. "culture for the whole"
the mosque lit up at night. from my hood.
night in the hood. that wall is the edge of the monarchies crib. holler

what do you speak

WED FEB 21st

This might be another one of those "the cat crossed the street moments" but i'd like to share it. Last night I met with two Jordanians for a Language exchange session, where you exchange an hour of Arabic for an hour of English helping the other improve their language skills. Originally i was just to meet a Jordanian fellow of 28 named Muhamad, who picked me up and we went to a mall to sit at a cafe. Later his girlfriend came over, who i felt was a large confidant for him, forcing him to really focus on his spoken English. Muhammad's English is not that good, but he is in need of it. He's trying to get a job in Kuwait where he needs to be able to speak English fluently. As is turns out, he was supposed to be interviewed yesterday over the phone to make sure that he was conversational in English, and to also ask him technical terms about the type of work he does "technical engineering" of some sort. He explained to me that he had just heard about this interview the day before, and became very scared at the idea... and then literally half hour he had found out about it, i had called him to see if he was interested in language exchange (his enthusiasm over the phone had been made clear to me before, but now i understood the reason). He said he saw me as good luck for him.
But why is this job so important for him? His girlfriend is 22 and she explained to me the situation when Muhamad went to pray Mughreb. Yasmine (her name) is also an engineer, but a agricultural one. She graduated last year and is already working for a major company, but regardless of what sounded like a great job when she described it, she told me that she only makes 200 JD a month ($300 in america), and that that was the same amount that Muhamad has been able to find in Amman. So now they're looking to work in Kuwait where they can make more money, because there are no opportunities in Amman. It struck me at this point how important for Muhamad learning this language must be. Here i am, spending however many thousands of dollars to fly across an ocean and study a language, when i don't even really know my plans for the future, where Muhamad finds english lessons for free in order to get a job that will pay his daily bills. ( i understand that this might be a harsh generalization of the situation, but I'm almost certain that it isn't that far from the truth for some).
And then i got to thinking again. Yesterday morning we had an american come speak to us on his experience in studying Arabic. he could speak well, having studied for quite a while, but by no means would i say he was at the level of many of the people (foreigners studying arabic) i met from Syria. He told us that in order for us to really excel in our study of the language, we have to know why we're studying it. ugh. I've pondered that question for so long, and still can't come up with a straight answer, but perhaps my point is this: maybe i can't come up with an answer for that because i don't have to yet. Muhammad studies English now because he must. Why do i study Arabic: because it's a beautiful language, because it's a challenge (and i have an ego problem), because i hate the idea of ever trying to understand someone without speaking to them in their native tongue (whether it be Arabic or Engrabic...), because i think it's sad that the number of americans i've heard speak the language with the grace that a native speaker does still fits easily on the fingers of one hand. But what does this all mean? i guess I'm just trying to point out that fact that regardless of how many privileged americans have the chance through SIT and many other abroad programs in the Middle East to travel here and learn this language, that doesn't translate into the same number of privileged americans who study it with the same rigor and will eventually speak it with the ease that Yasmine spoke English with me (and that eventually Muhammad must reach).

I sat patiently last night trying to recall what little English grammar i studied in school in order to explain why i say "i have worn" instead of "i have wearing" when talking about the rings on my fingers that i've worn since 8th grade (note that Muhammad said that these were the very first things he noticed about me when he picked me up... i wear rings on both of my ring fingers... enough to confuse any man looking for a wife). I wish i had paid more attention during those few grammar lessons we had. looks like both he and i have a lot to learn together.

same picture from below but backed up.
masjid in the "hood" as ahmad might say
friday morning in East Amman, peops shopping
street on friday morning

the kishk of abu ali

guy on a set of stairs, rainy friday morning

stuff

Feb 18th at night:
Firstly and foremost, i'd like to apologize again for how rambling and long my posts can sometimes be, it's just that I'm finding that nearly every second here is so loaded with observations and realizations that I'm interested in expressing, and constantly rethinking over that there is too much for my brain to organize. I think everyone on our trip can relate to that. This said, i have many things on the agenda for today because it's been too long since I've written last, so bare with me.

The past few days have been hard. For friends and family at home, we've all been dealing with the grave health of one of our friends from high-school, Crisitn Duprey, my junior year roommate, confidant in Bobby Brown karaoke, practically everyone's big momma at SAS at some point, the woman who taught me how to shake (harlem shake that is), the one who kept me up at night talking to love's back in the city until who knows when in the morning, and perhaps most importantly, someone who i could always count on to be there for me when i needed her. And although i could go on, i don't feel that this blog is the place to truly do justice to her. It's been difficult dealing with the fact that I'm half way across the world and can only make brief calls to friends and family in order to find out her health status, or to speak to people for support. I'm having a hard enough time trying to reconcile the very world I'm living with here, let alone a second one closer to my heart, but farther in actual space.

"Rachel Ray on cooking in the Middle East"

At home things have been going well (no worries Nour....). It's been difficult personally dealing with the fact that there is a Maid in the house, who's story i've recently come to uncover, and am not satisfied with. But this is something that I'm dealing with daily, and also feel as inappropriate to speak about here. Relations with the family are building. I essentially come home everyday from school around 4-5, where they have lunch set out waiting for me, and it's always delicious. I sit and eat, and then when I'm done i go sit with the family in the sitting room. Usually Nabil is sleeping on the couch, taking his daily nap, while A3beer and any assortment of children sit around the TV watching some show or another. I still don't really understand the selection of TV they watch (usually American shows like ER, Rachel Ray, and Dr. Phil, or American movies that i've never heard of or seen). Something i do notice though, and appreciate, are the constant comments of misunderstanding that come from Nabil on some of the things he sees. Today for instance, we were watching rachel ray and she was making a lasagna in the kitchen. After the meal was finished and she was scooping it out on a plate, Nabil simply commented "they make such weird food." The youngest daughter Rayia agreed, and i thought to myself, I wonder what would happen if i took them home with them and fed them the odd contraptions that my family eats... would Nabil even accept the food? Would he talk and complain about how bad it was afterwards to A3beer? I then got to thinking about how my parents (american) are always asking about what type of foods i eat here, and how they can make it. Is it true that our food is just weird, and bad, and that Middle Eastern food is the triumph of all cuisine? I doubt that. Perhaps is just a part of American culture, as being so plural, to seek new adventures in the Kitchen... after-all what is American food besides stolen food from far away destinations (with the exception of Tex-Mex, and the favorite hamburger and fries meal... are they even American truly though?). I then started making connections back to a reoccurring discussion brought up recently about the food of jordan, and relating it to the short history of the country.
Jordan itself, doesn't really have any historically famous meals. The food is taken from the culturally richer and older regions of the Middle East, like Palestine and Syria, because Jordan in itself never really had a settled/stagnant population to construe up their own contraptions. Are the meals here in Jordan, like the famous Munsaf, seen to be more "authentic" then because their origins are just a few miles away, rather than across the atlantic, like most of ours might be? But before i state talking about what is "authentic", perhaps it's just better to ask : Why does Nabil really think our food is weird? Is it too unauthentic, unhistorical, oddly contrapted food of the ignorant? Perhaps just the lasagna Rachel Ray was making looked too odd for him, but why would he generalize all of "their" food as weird just from one dish? I have no idea what types of assumptions and beliefs about America his short statement really held, and what it really comes down to, is the fact that i shouldn't be talking about these assumptions until he makes them really clear to me. I mean, what good are assumptions about assumptions anyways...? Of course, this isn't the only time that he's commented on the weirdness of something he's seen on TV (for instance the curios manner of a crazy woman in an American movie). Perhaps if i keep note of all the strange things he comments on i could have a better vague understanding of the gaps he sees between his culture and mine. It pains me that such an understanding comes from the television, but perhaps it's more incentive for me to really make use of my time in this house


"Negative Receiver"
Another fun conversation I had today was with my arabic teacher Mahmood, about a lesson that i had studied from the Arabic learning book he had written using excerpts of newspaper clippings to teach the language. The first exercise was on Arab Media, and how it needs to develop into a critical thinking entity. What was interesting though, was the direct Arabic translation that i didn't quite understand all the time. Specifically, there was a direct translation from the words for negative and positive "selbi" and "ejabi" that Mahmood understood as giving meaning to how critical a person was when listening to the news. For instance, one of the questions for discussion translates directly into " the person must not be a negative receiver of information but he must discuss and analyze with positive analyzation" Negative receiver (this is also how Mahmood directly translated it for me, but he also says that he doesn't speak english very well)
يجت أن لا يكون الإنسان متلقيا سلبيا: بل يجت أن يناقشها و يحللها تحليلا إجابيا
So when i read this passage, i read it as, we should read the news in a positive manner (i.e. be happy about it... rather than constantly be upset with what we hear on the news). Only after i expressed my confusion to Mahmood, did it become clear that a "negative receiver" wasn't necessarily someone who simply got mad at the news, but was someone who didn't question the news or examine it. I wonder what other types of phrases like this i've read over the past six months and have misinterpreted or translated? I've certainly read some passages that i had thought we over simplified in content, but was this because there was too little information/argumentation, or because i simply didn't understand it?
I think it would also be interesting to ask why these two words "selbi" and "ejabi" are used here, where the positive and negative connotation of not questioning the news is made directly obvious, and not through round about context that would be assumed in an english conversation in America (i.e. perhaps in an English context, not questioning the news is already presumed to have negative connotations of naivety or ignorance that need not be highlighted in a discussion). Perhaps i really just don't understand the meaning of these two words. Perhaps the word for negative, also has a connotation of being incorrect and visa versa where positive means being correct? who knows.
Thus, I feel like is it very easy for there to be a miscommunication between Arabic speakers and English speakers without discussion of meanings, but of course this is probably possible with any two people who speak two different language and have only a basic grasp of the other language. Things that might be assumed in one language or the other are different. Thus i have a lot more to study, a lot more people to talk to, and a lot more positive receiving to do.

For another discussion, we could also highlight what Mahmood is arguing about in this point. He brings up the responsibility of the individual to be an active listener to his surroundings, and the need of the Arabic media to be more aware of their surroundings and situations. I brought up the point that freedom of speech and interpretation is sometimes limited to closely by the government, and thus has brought about a culture of stagnancy perhaps. He simply responded by agreeing that the governments work was bad (i chose another Arab country as an example, not Jordan), but that again he returned to individual agency. He concluded with a discussion that almost mirrored what our class had heard from a lecturer from the Center for Strategic Studies, by saying that it was upon the society to reorganize a new mindset for critical thinking separate from the government-- the house, the schools, and he cautiously also approached with "if there are religious organizations, then it is their responsibility as well". It was upon the society to take up the stance in an organized fashion. Is this the revolutionary thoughts that China and Ben are seeking? Perhaps they don't come from the rambunctious teenagers who are more concerned with having a cellphone that plays MP3's, but from the people who've seen developments in the society already, and are ready to push their agenda's on the lucky foreigners who seek to learn the language.

"irrelevant observations"
Muhamad, you can skip this part, because these will be those "the cat crossed the street" type statements, that I'm adding simply for family and friends.


- On Saturday a friend and i got to meet up with a local Jordanian (23) who is studying "American Studies" to get his Masters at the Jordan University. The major is new, and it was fun to finally have the tables turned on us, and be the "other" for once. We met at a cafe in Shmaisani and exchanged Arabic and English. I got to learn some fun knew proverbs in Arabic, "what the cat digs up lands on its head"---> the arabic equivalent of "what goes around comes around".
- I've also been in contact with this guys friend recently to set me up with some work around town. If all works out, i will be helping two orphaned children who live in my neighborhood (mind you on the other side of the hill) teaching the daughter English so that she can excel in school, and then hopefully on Saturday's joining an "exchange of culture" organization that matches up foreigners with locals to share in common interests and discuss. I hope both options come together.
-I'm getting the feeling that Amman is definitely a much more laid back town than Damascus. I woke up this morning with the Azzan at 4:44 am, and was pleased with the slower version of the call than what I heard in Damascus or Istanbul. There was a definite break between each line, of almost equal length to the call itself, making me feel as if the mu'zzen (caller) was almost taking a coffee break in between, or chatting to those behind him (perhaps not a funny joke... i take it back?) Either way, i've also been getting it from my family, and people I've spoken with in the Souqs (btw i found souqs that were either a 1. huge mall, 2. carrfoure or 3. a highway strip with big stores on the side) who take no pain in answering questions of mine, or with allowing me to look at their merchandise quietly.
-I've also realized that Jordanian dialect is a lot easier to understand than any other dialect i've encountered (including Shammy/Syrian). I feel like they speak slower, and perhaps with more words that are closer to FosHa. I'm not exactly sure why.
-I've also decided that i now have sufficiently lost all capabilities to speak in either English or Arabic, or at least that my vocabularies have withered into meaningless hand movements like the o-so-famous 'ishara" from my time at University of Damascus that could be associated with a number of words from "pressure, tyranny, falling, wolf, government, attacks, to flip over..." and the list goes on. I now speak fluently in "Engrabic" or "Arabeezy" and feel awkwardly sufficiently as i stumble over words in front of some of my extremely eloquent and well-read colleagues.