"no like america"

Amman, Jordan

My colleagues and I were, as usual, sharing a taxi back from work this evening, and chatting about some harmless subject related to our teaching. I had given the directions to the cab driver in Arabic, though he insisted on speaking to us in his very broken English. About half way into Amman, he asked, "You American?"
Before I could reply, John jumped right in. "No, no. British. Well, British and American. Two British, one American."
The cab driver said, "No like America." He had to say it twice before we understood it. There was a moment of silence before John turned to Martha and continued whatever innocuous conversation we'd been having. I don't know how they felt, but I felt extremely awkward.

What's a girl to say? I ask this as a rhetorical question, but it's not really rhetorical. What is a girl supposed to say to that? I'm not going to say, "I don't like America, either," even though that's how my Nana thinks I feel. I do like America. I'm a big fan of Thomas Jefferson and the Declaration of Independence, George Washington and the two-term presidency, Ralph Waldo Emerson and "The American Scholar," Martin Luther King, Jr., and the Dream, John F. Kennedy and the Peace Corps, and the other noble ideals with which the United States of America has been built. I wouldn't want to have been born anywhere else, because being an American opens doors to me that aren't open to so many other people around the world.

But I sympathize with America's detractors. A friend asked me today why my G-chat status message read "Maryah can fly her country's flag again with a clear conscience." I've never been a great fan of patriotic gestures, but since 9/11 and the dictatorial, damn-the-consequences cowboy diplomacy of the Bush Administration, I've shuddered every time I've seen an ostentatious show of American patriotism. For the last seven years, the United States hasn't had a government I could be proud of, or that I even really wanted to be associated with.

But today on BBC I've seen clips of President Obama's appearance on Al-Arabiya television network, saying that too often America dictates what other countries should do without knowing all the relevant factors, and that this new administration is prepared to listen first, and not make decisions until all the factions have been consulted. (Much has been made of the fact that he still won't talk to Hamas, but he does support Egypt's talks with Hamas, and we can't expect too much so soon.) I can't tell you how impressed I am that our new president, despite the pressing domestic issues like economic crisis, health care, lobbying reform and transparency reform, has taken the time out of his very first week in office to address the Arab people directly, and in such self-effacing tones. In addition, I've been listening to the Secretary of the Arab League and other regional spokespersons express their delight at the appointment of George Mitchell as the Obama Administration's Middle East Envoy, and praise him as someone who listens. Finally, the United States has leadership that I can believe in, that I am comfortable being associated with.

Backing Hope With Action

If you've been following this or my other blog, Alternate Witness, you will know that I have been following two causes very closely in the last few year, one which gives me great hope, and one which gives me great pain.

I have followed with great hope, though equal amounts of skepticism, the campaign and now presidency of one Barack Obama. Since the very beginning, I have admired in him a humility one doesn't see in many politicians. Where other politicians, most notably our recently departed president, choose a political line and toe it against all opposition, Barack Obama is willing to admit when he doesn't know, and even when he is wrong, and is willing an eager to seek out the opinions of experts and hear all sides before reaching a conclusion.

I have also been following, since I was an undergraduate, the situation in the Palestinian Territories. I have been particularly concerned since Hamas won free and fair elections and the serious blockading and humanitarian crisis began. If you've been reading carefully, you'll understand that I am concerned about both sides of this conflict, both the Palestinian and Israeli victims. They are both victims of birth, of circumstance, of history, of violence, of intolerance, of religious extremism, of poor governance, and of propaganda on both sides. There are children dying in this conflict who did nothing wrong but be born on the wrong side of some arbitrary line in the dirt. That pains me in ways I can't describe.

Recently, I've started following an organization that unites those two causes. Jewish Voice for Peace is encouraging Americans, Israelis, Arabs and others to speak together in calling for a resolution to the conflict in Palestine. They started Thank You Jon Stewart, which I've seen posted on a number of my friends' blogs and Facebook pages. They petitioned President-elect Barack Obama to support a ceasefire in Gaza. Now that there is a ceasefire (of sorts), they are preparing an open letter to President Barack Obama about the situation in Gaza. I received the following as part of an email encouraging me to sign the open letter, and the words express very accurately how I am feeling right now:

Every time I saw one of those Obama posters with "HOPE" on it, I felt it. Hope, that is. Hope against hope that perhaps this new President would pursue a just peace with the same fervor that he pursued hope before he was elected.

And in the short time since the inauguration, we're seeing reasons to believe our hope was justified. But, here's the big challenge: Israel, Palestine, Gaza. Turning hope into reality comes down to how President Obama deals with this ongoing tragedy. This week's announcement of George Mitchell as Middle East envoy -- the man who helped broker peace in Northern Ireland-- signals that Obama is serious about even-handed diplomacy. For so many, our hope is that Mitchell and Obama will now take serious and meaningful steps towards a just and true peace.

I am also quite passionate about the idea of balanced journalism, not just in regards to Gaza, and I thank Amina for forwarding me information about a campaign by Avaaz to improve fair journalism vis a vis Gaza.

The American Condition

I was chatting with Carter today about his attempts to find a job that would let him join me in Jordan when he passed on this comic by The Chalkboard Manifesto, which he got from our mutual friend Erica from church:

an american map of africa

Of course, Carter's probably right ... no average American would think to add Madagascar to the East Coast of Africa!

Always Check Your Child's Homework

A teacher sent home a note to a parent about her daughter's artwork.

Here's the reply the teacher received the following day:

Dear Mrs. Jones,
I wish to clarify that I am not now, nor have I ever been, an exotic dancer. I work at Home Depot and I told my daughter how hectic it was last week before the blizzard hit. I told her we sold out every single shovel we had, and then I found one more in the back room, and that several people were fighting over who would get it. Her picture doesn't show me dancing around a pole. It's supposed to depict me selling the last snow shovel we had at Home Depot.
From now on I will remember to check her homework more thoroughly before she turns it in.
Sincerely,
Mrs. Smith

So Long, Farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, Adieu!

Amman, Jordan

Megan left Jordan today. Most of the pictures from this, her last week in Jordan, are stuck on her camera, but at least I have these:

From Megan's Last Week in Jordan

Change Has Come

At the very least, there's a new face on the American reputation. I don't know if things will really change. No one does. All I know is that we have a chance to change the direction of the American experiment, and I like our chances for the first time in a long time. Were I teaching at Bel Air High School tomorrow, I would be proud to pledge allegiance to the American flag with my students, for the first time in 7 years.

I know the Pledge of Allegiance is only words, just as the Inaugural Address was only words, but words have power. Words are what set us apart from the rest of the Animal Kingdom, words are what give us justice, conscience, faith and hope. Words are how we build compromise, and that's exactly what Barack Obama's words promise to Americans and to all the peoples our policies effect. I will no doubt be hearing complaints here that he didn't reference Gaza specifically, but not only was this not the pulpit for that, but I was pleasantly surprised at how openly Obama addressed the issues that effect us most here in the Middle East. I'm impressed by his humility, that he is resisting the urge to wave the Big Stick, and instead extending an olive branch. It was hard to tell if my goosebumps were from the chill in the apartment, or the chill of hope inspired by Barack Obama's words. (It could well be the former, since I got goosebumps in the middle of Rev. Jeff Warren's inaugural prayer, as well, though I admit that he was pretty darn good, too.)

The decisiveness of Barack Obama's election restored my faith in American democracy. Obama's words today have gone a long way towards restoring my faith in the American experiment.

Yes, Rev. Dr. Lowry, let our tanks be beaten into tractors!

See Jordan the Tareef Way!

I discovered this video on Facebook today, and I just had to share it with everyone!

Return to Madaba

Ma'een, Madaba, Jordan

From Dead Sea Panorama Downhill

This week's trip with Tareef Cycling Club was the Dead Sea Panorama trip, starting midway between the town of Ma'een and the Ma'een Hot Springs, and coasting down the hill to the Dead Sea for tea and manakeesh. On the way there, the bus passed through the town of Ma'een, and I was reminded of Naureen, Jennifer, Jeremy and Audra, my fellow Peace Corps Trainees for Pre-Service Training in Ma'een. I could still pick out the home of my host mother, Auntie Nayfa Haddadeen, and the center where we had our Arabic clases, the little restaurant where we got falafel, and the girls' school where I did my student teaching under the supervision of Miss Mary Haddadeen. Outwardly, not much seems to have changed since I lived there almost exactly five years ago.

The trip itself was quite a rush, as we rocketted downhill, through switchbacks and chillier weather than expected, down to the Dead Sea. It was pretty easy, but sort of nerve-wracking, too. But beautiful. Definitely beautiful.

From Dead Sea Panorama Downhill

Are You From Bleela?

Amman, Jordan

Today was our third day of placement testing at Bell Amman. The placement tests themselves have been pretty popular, though the numbers of people who actually enrolled in classes is still disappointingly low. But there are three young women I'm going to come after personally if they don't register for classes!

The first question on the placement test is, "What's your name?" Sometimes the names are vaguely familiar to me, or I can place them as Palestinian or Syrian. The first girl in my 6:00 speaking tests came and sat down with me and told me that her family name was Magableh, and immediately I said, "Magableh? Are you from Bleela?" She gave me a puzzled look. "Yes. How do you know it?" I smiled. "I lived in Mshairfeh for two years. My two favorite teachers were from Bleela and named Magableh." Sure enough, she knew exactly who I meant, and it turns out that this student is a cousin of my Peace Corps counterpart and her sister. So we chatted a bit about this relative of hers and that one. Her English is quite good, almost too good for the classes we're offering on our soft opening. My very next student was also a Magableh from Bleela, a first cousin of the first girl, and it turned out that they went on the same vacation to Aqaba last summer.

(Only much later did I remember that I knew another Magableh from Bleela, Emad, the Mshairfeh English teacher I thought was just my friend, but who didn't have a category for 'female friend' in his worldview. He proposed to me repeatedly for months, and then took a teaching job in Kuwait because "it's too hard to live in the same country as you, Maryah! I'll come back when you leave." He's still in Kuwait, according to my headmistress in Mshairfeh. Now I suppose he'll probably find out that I'm back, and won't be able to come back to Jordan once again.)

Then, right after the Magableh girls, I had a third young woman come in for testing with the surname Mohasneh, which I recognized as being the name of one or more of my colleagues in Mshairfeh, but I wasn't sure from which village. When I asked her the third question, where she was from, I expected to get some clue, but she said Amman. But then, like a good intermediate student, she kept going, saying that she lives in Amman now, but that she came from a small village in Jerash, I'd probably never heard of it. So of course, I had to ask which one! And when she said Kufr Khall, I said, "I worked in Mshairfeh with some teachers from Kufr Khall!" She was less impressed than the Magableh girls, however. (It wasn't until much later that I remembered it was one of my favorite teachers, the teacher of the class for the deaf, who came from Kufr Khall, and I think perhaps one of the Arabic teachers was the Mohasneh I knew.)

It's a small world, isn't it? And if those three young women don't register for classes, I'm going to hunt them down and demand to know why not! (I already cornered two of the students I tested to find out if they were registering or not!)

It's a Small World!

Amman, Jordan

My roommate said several months ago that he'd met a girl who should move into our third bedroom in January and, hey, she's from Maine! You'll have a lot in common! I immediately scoffed, I'm not really from Maine, it's just where my parents live. I've really only vacationed there.

Well, she was going to be our third roommate, until a few days ago when she let us know that she'd be back to Jordan for a week, but wouldn't be staying for another semester after all. We're still looking for her replacement.

But today she came home wearing a T-shirt from Camp Pondicherry. I burst out, "Camp Pondicherry! On Adam's Pond? That's where my parents live!" And she says, "Nobody knows where Adam's Pond is! Bridgton, maybe, but Adam's Pond?" Turns out, she was a Girl Scout camp counselor at Camp Pondicherry, where I have also considered applying more than once. When I described my parents' house to her, she recognized it.

What are the odds?

Crick-Stompin' Shoes

...or, What Protests?

Wadi al-Kerak near the Dead Sea, Jordan

On Protests
I've been getting messages from Germany, Switzerland and the USA concerned about my safety here in this volatile part of the world. And yes, it's true, there were protests in Amman today. The US Embassy sent out warden messages advising caution:

The Arab Islamic Leaders asked the people to demonstrate over all countries and they called it the anger day against Israel and to support Gaza, so in Jordan the people will demonstrate after the pray and start from the biggest mosque in each province, in Amman from the Al-Husseini Mosque to the Amman Municipality building.

I understand that tear gas was fired into the crowds again at the Israeli Embassy today. One of our friends from Tareef Cycling Club, Jad Madi, was there and has put up his photographs on his blog. But the photos of my Friday midday are far more serene:

From Wadi al-Kerak

This weekend, Tareef Cycling Club left the bicycles at home and opted for hiking far, far away at the other end of the Dead Sea. And this time, I came prepared with my crick-stompin' shoes! (For those of you who didn't grow up in Pennsylvania Dutch Country, a "crick" is what some parts of the country call a "creek" but may also describe a "stream.")

On Jordanian Customer Service
You see, when we went hiking in Wadi al-Ghwayr, I didn't know that I would not be able to avoid getting my feet wet, and I got blisters, and my hiking boots were wet for more than a week. So, last night, I went to Mecca Mall to get a pair of shoes that I could hike in but that were meant to get wet. I knew just where I would find these shoes, and made a bee-line to Champions, where I explained what I was looking for. "Water shoes?" says the salesman, without even looking around. "No. We don't have anything like that." So I walked all around the entire Mecca Mall, went into every shop with shoes, and found nothing but ordinary trainers. So I thought, well, I don't know of anywhere else in Amman where I'm likely to find just what I'm looking for, so I'll go back to Champions and get a closer look. Guess what? I found a dozen styles of shoes meant for the water! And I found a pair that were perfect. No blisters!

On Hiking
So this is the biggest crowd I saw on Friday, today's incarnation of Tareef Cycling Club:

From Wadi al-Kerak

It was a perfect day for hiking, about 19C down below sea level, sunny, and green. The scenery is just beautiful, very green because of the crick we were stompin', sometimes with boxy, wind-scoured rock walls, sometimes with more curvaceous water-carved siqs that evoke the landscape of Petra. I saw several different species of frog in different shades of green and brown, and some freshwater crabs, and at one point a bird flew over head that looked very much like a North American blue heron from the bottom of the canyon.

It did seem, at times, to be the same as Wadi al-Ghwayr, but when we came to our lunch spot, with this gorgeous waterfall and palm trees, we agreed that it was much more spectacular. The company was pretty good, too. Stephanie brought her three German roommates along on the trip, Sina, Lena and Theresa, and they spoke a lot of German to each other and some with me. To my chagrin, however, when I tried at the beginning of the trip to translate Ammar's Arabic description of the trip into German for them, I failed miserably. Oh, sure, I could get the first sentence out in decent German. But after that I switched back to Arabic without even noticing, until finally Sina said, "In English! In English!" Embarrassing. I need a lot more German practice! Unfortunately, the girls are leaving soon, with the semester over, and I'll have to find new Germans to pester with my crazy, Arabized, Swiss-influenced German!

It was the perfect day, and perfect timing to get out of Amman. The closest we ever came to the issue of Palestine was watching the sun set over the Dead Sea and the West Bank. It looks so peaceful from Jordan's Dead Sea Highway!

From Wadi al-Kerak

Musical Manifestation of Solidarity

Amman, Jordan

In solidarity with Gaza, and in honor of the Palestinian martyrs, and in protest against the criminal Israeli war, and in rejection of the bias of the world regimes, a number of Jordanian artists and cultural activists are organizing a musical manifestation of solidarity at Al Balad Theatre, Jabal Amman, First circle, on Wednesday 7 January 2008 at 8:00 pm.

The event will include a piano performance by Tala Tutunji and Zeina Asfour, who will perform compositions by Tarek Younis. Omar Faqir, Tarek Jundi, Wissam Tubeleh and Fadi Ghawanmeh will also take part in this event which will include poetry readings in Arabic and English of poems by Mahmoud Darwish compiled and read by Serene Huleileh, Reem Abu Kishk, Amer al Khuffash, and Samar Dudin. Ayman Taisir will conclude the readings with poetry dedicated to Palestine. The event will be concluded by a visual presentation designed by Raed Asfour culminated by the virtual video presence of the late Palestinian poet laureate, Mahmoud Darwish.

We do not wish this event to be a simple artistic act of solidarity, but to come out with real solidarity by urging every participant to contribute, in whatever way he/she can, to support the perseverance of our people in Gaza.

Despite all the hours that Peace Corps spent ingraining in us the danger of approaching large groups of protesting Palestinians, my friend and I decided that this was one demonstration we could be a part of. I'm so glad we made that decision.

This ceremony (not just an event) was beautifully prepared and very moving. There was piano, violin, recorder and 'oud music, overlaid with poetry and a recitation of just some names of the more than 700 Palestinians who have lost their lives since Christmas.

Not surprisingly, we also saw many people we know.

Update

I've never heard of this musician before, but I applaud him:

I Love My New Job!

Marj al-Hamam, Jordan

After teaching at the Modern American School, I wasn't sure I ever wanted to teach again, but after just two days preparing for the opening of Bell Amman, I can hardly wait till we have students and I can start teaching the syllabi I'm writing!

At the start of our first training session this morning, the boss asked, "How did training go yesterday?" My co-teacher, John, was a good stoic Englishman and said nothing. Then she turned to me, and I just couldn't keep the grin off my face. "I love this job!" The boss looked surprised at my enthusiasm (there I am, being too American again!), so I explained:

When I interviewed at MAS, I was offered all the support I could need. When it came to actual training and teaching, almost every time I asked for help, I was told, "You're a good teacher. You'll figure it out." When I ask for help at Bell, I get twenty minutes of the boss's time, and only then does she say, "See? You're already a good teacher, and you didn't need my help after all!"

More Fun With Arabic

Speaking of yesterday's training, we did most of it together with the Customer Service hires, learning about the company and the services we provide. The whole Customer Service Dept are Jordanians, and they would chatter along to each other in Arabic, and from time to time their conversations would make me grin or laugh.

"Do you speak Arabic?" I was asked several times. I would just nod, not wanting to get into it, but one girl really made me laugh when she asked, "How many words do you know?" I shrugged, and said in Arabic, "In colloquial? Pretty much all of them." So then, of course, I had to demonstrate, and they all got quite a good laugh out of my peasant accent.

Desert, Yes, But Warm...?

Amman, Jordan

When I arrived in Jordan for the first time in early February of 2004, I had no sweaters, no winter coat, no sweatshirt. Over two feet of snow had fallen on southern Pennsylvania the night before I left for Peace Corps Orientation. It was cold when we left Washington, D.C., cold on our layover in Frankfurt, but for some reason I didn't think it would be cold in Jordan. After all, Jordan's a desert! (I still don't know why it never occurred to me, traveller and researcher extraordinaire, to check the CIA Factbook for the average winter temperatures in Jordan...!)

When I stepped out of customs at Queen Alia Airport in Amman, the first thing I saw were several tall men with black-and-white Hattas wrapped around their faces, just like the terrorists I'd seen on TV. It took me a few hours to figure out that they do that to stay warm!

Amman is cold. It gets at least a foot of snow a year. That winter of 2004, some villages in the mountains in Shobak got so much snow that food and heating gas had to be airlifted in.

Yesterday, we could see our breath inside our apartment. And I just kept thinking, I don't understand how people could think that the total blockade that has been imposed on the Gaza Strip since November could be fair. We're not talking about an embargo on luxury items. We're talking about basic necessities, as described by Harvard professor Sara Roy here.

Maybe you think Gaza is a nice warm desert. It is a desert, yes, but while spending my third winter in Jordan, having been to the Sinai in January 2006, I can tell you that it must be cold in Gaza tonight, and there's no electricity and no heating oil.

Bike for Gaza

...or, How Jordanian Youth Respond To Crisis

Amman, Jordan

From Bike For Gaza

I was only a very minor participant in the amazing recent campaign wonderfully described by Black Iris here and here. I dropped off just one bag of non-perishable foodstuffs, having been unemployed for a number of weeks and unable to contribute more. I knew from some of my friends in Tareef Cycling Club when and where they were loading on New Years, and it was just across the Airport Road from my apartment, but I grossly underestimated the Jordanian people and didn't think they would need my help. I regret this, despite lingering shreds of my Peace Corps training telling me to avoid politically sensitive gatherings, because I think Black Iris makes a great argument in support of what I've been telling a half-Jewish friend here in Jordan: for all the anger that there is here about what is happening in Gaza, it's not being directed at individuals, but at the Israeli leadership.

I also did my part today, and a little bit more, when I went on the Save Gaza bike trip with the Tareef Cycling Club this morning. I mean, let's be honest, I was going to go anyway, because Tareef goes cycling every Friday, and I'm fulfilling a promise to myself from several years ago to become a competent cyclist post-Peace Corps. But when I found out that Tareef would be donating all the usual 5 dinar fees to the Red Cross for the relief effort in Gaza, I was especially determined to go, and even to contribute more than the usual fee.

I went because, while Tareef's members are passionate about the Palestinian cause and they were eager, as I am, to make some contribution, that was not the sole purpose of today's ride. These guys and gals get together to go cycling. Some of them are members of the Jordanian national team, others are even less athletic than I am, and there is absolutely no censure. These are some of the easiest people to spend time with that I know in Jordan, because they are all very ambitious, successful people, but they don't take themselves very seriously. The girls are very stylish, even at the end of a long bike ride, because there's absolutely no avoiding it here, but they're not the Barbie dolls you usually see around town. I suspect that most of them are of above average wealth, but you'd never know it by looking at them. And they didn't disappoint today. There was some talk about Palestine, but there was no diatribe, no vitriol, no censure of other viewpoints. More than angry, the people on this trip were disappointed.

But mostly, we were just biking!

From Bike For Gaza

A Subdued New Year

Amman, Jordan

Happy New Year!

Despite that exclamation point, I didn't feel much like celebrating this year. It was going to be a quiet New Years anyway, with Megan in the Cayman Islands and Ryan snowboarding in Lebanon. Not only that, but I wasn't really in the mood to celebrate, having spent two days watching my Jewish and Arab friends vilify each other (though they don't know each other) on Facebook over what's happening in Gaza, which finally decided to boycott temporarily.

But one of the advantages of Facebook is their IM system, however primitive and problematic. Aktham IMed me to say that some of our mutual friends from Tareef Cycling Club were getting together across town, and he invited me to join them. I was reluctant, after dark, to stray more than a few feet from my space heater and get in a cab by myself (I'm still very much a village girl in Jordan, despite 6 months in the big city). But I finally convinced myself that being a hermit was not going to make me feel any better. I almost gave up when I had to wait quite some time in the cold for a cab, but of course that was the moment when a cab finally stopped for me.

We were meeting at an absolutely huge Gloria Jeans Cave in Medina al-Munawwara Street, the size of the Starbucks in the Union at Indiana University. I went right in and ordered a coffee with some nostalgia; Gloria Jeans at the Galleria Mall was a special treat in my high school years. It wasn't until I was waiting for my drink and looking around for Aktham and the others from Tareef that I realized, while I thought I could hear Tareef on the second floor, I didn't see a single other woman in the place. This is something I would have noticed right away in Irbid or Jerash, or even just this past summer in Amman, as sensitized as I became in Peace Corps to gender. Since living in Amman, though, I have lost a lot of sensitivity, and this was sort of a sucker punch, and on top of my rough two days.

From New Years Eve

But sure enough, I went upstairs and followed the sounds of the loudest group in the place, and as soon as I saw Anis's fine-boned face at a table that was half women, I knew everything would be fine.

And it was. The members of Tareef are very non-judgemental, and that's why I enjoy their company! While there were occassional mentions of Gaza, there were no politics at the table, and it was a real relief.

Even still, I couldn't stop myself from what the Palestinians must see as crocodile tears while I was explaining to Aktham why I was boycotting Facebook and didn't think it was a good idea to go on with them to a protest in the City Center. I mean, in principle, it would have been okay, as it was billed as a silent candlelight vigil, but this is the Palestinians, and like Greeks, Italians, Jews, Spaniards, and other Mediterranean peoples, they're loud! But, in an attempt to distract me and make me feel better, Aktham convinced me to go with some of the rest to get food across the street, and the Shawerma Wok puts on quite a show!

From New Years Eve