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.