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?
...
Sunday, March 04, 2007
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.
** 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.
Friday, March 02, 2007
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 goatsjibal
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
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. hollerwhat 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.
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
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