Ramadan, Village-Style

Mshairfeh, Jerash, Jordan

I'd forgotten how much time Jordanians spend cooking! The women, mostly, but even Abu Tareq got involved in filling the qatayef I brought along in response to Wijdan's reply as to what she'd like me to contribute: Bring something sweet like you!

I arrived in Mshairfeh around noon, laden down with juice, dates, cigarettes and the fixings for qatayef. Wijdan is always asking me when I'll be coming back to visit, and I had promised her I'd come during Ramadan, because it just doesn't feel like Ramadan here in Amman, without my Jordanian family to break the fast with. I know, though, that she can barely afford to feed her own children, so I always try to bring something along. Fruit juice because I know they never get anything but Tang. Dates because it's sunna to break your fast with a date. Cigarettes because she always asks for them (though this time I didn't think to bring a lighter, which she also needed). And qatayef because I love to eat one or two, but can't eat a whole batch, and although I know how to make them, I'm not very good at it!I hadn't even been there an hour when everyone gathered in the kitchen. Wijdan was making bread dough to be baked in her new oven later. Abu Tareq and the girls shredded dates, added them to the raisins and coconut I'd brought, folded them into the little pancake qatayef, and pinched the edges closed to make little half-moon pastries.

Then we all napped. There's a lot of napping during Ramadan, especially in these hot, long summer days of fasting. The other common way of passing the time and taking your mind off your stomach is to read Qur'an, but I chose the napping route!

Then, around 4 o'clock, we gathered back in the kitchen and spent the next 3 hours on cooking. Salad, siniiya, kufteh, qatayef, bread, rice.... And all the while watching little Taqwa (18 months) wander around the kitchen and take one bite of every vegetable (even raw potatoes!), bowl and plate, while Ghadeer (18 years) asked every 10 minutes, "Ya Maryah! What time is it?"

That said, there is no better seasoning than hunger, and when we finally tucked into the meal, I tucked away so much delicious food that it hurt for an hour!

Whose Education Is It, Then?

Amman, Jordan

I've said I like teaching business people because they know the value of their own education. They know how many hours they had to work for the money to pay for it, and they know the exact monetary value of success. But sometimes even business people have to be reminded.

My Beginner 1&2 classes are my favorite classes, because students come in knowing almost nothing, and make visible, often remarkable progress. This was especially true for a class we designed especially for Abu Dia3 and his colleagues, who arrived without even any confidence in their knowledge of the alphabet. Now he's in Beginner 1 proper, and while he finds the much faster pace challenging, in part because he's well into his forties, he was recently regaling his classmates with the new study habits he learned with me. "Miss Maryah, I copied out the whole text we did yesterday, spelling and punctuation and everything, and translated every word, and now I really know it!"
"Miss Maryah!" said another student. "Why don't you give us things to copy for homework? It would be so useful!"
"Why do you need me to assign it for homework, if you know it's useful? Why don't you just do it?"
"Because you need to threaten us with a big stick!" he laughed.

I have to say, it really hit a nerve. In my school-age students, I can understand it. Kids, whose parents are paying for their educations, too often see education as a burden, and will do as little as they can get away with. Unfortunately, when teachers resort to a big stick as motivation for completing homework, it has repercussions for the way those children see the world and education even as adults.

So I tucked my chin and lifted my eyebrows in my best disappointed schoolmarm face. "I'm not responsible for your education. I'm responsible for your lessons, but you are responsible for your education. If you think it would be a helpful exercise, you can certainly do it yourself."

You should have seen the sheepish looks on the faces of these businessmen half again or even twice my age...!

Language Is Intimately Interconnected

(As Are Our Lives, Now and Through History!)

Many is the student of Arabic who has complained about the vast disparity between Arabic and English and other European languages. "It's completely different from English!"

Well, not completely. Want to learn some advanced Arabic really fast? In this article are some cognates for terms most of us are familiar with from math, science, cooking, common luxuries, and nautical and equestrian lives!

Falcon

by Maryah Converse

I’m like a ship at light speed, flying a razor-edge
Between black hole and supernova.
You’re the star destroyer close on my tail,
With Luke on my right flank
And Han on the left,
But it’s the Dark Side I want,
Wrapped up in the light:
Nights in your arms and days at your side,
Kisses in your embrace, your words in my mind.
A little to the right and we fall forever;
A little left, we burn in glory.
But past the Kessel Run is illicit paradise
With stolen treasures and priceless bliss.
Tell me, Artoo, the course to plot
To reach Dagobar and the mystic art
Of keeping concentration
Above the beat of my heart,
To know when to hold back and live my life
And when to seek Cloud City in the sunset sky,
At the end of this razor’s edge
I’m trying to fly

I wrote this about completely different people than the ones who reminded me of it tonight, but the emotional core holds true!

Ryan's Home!

Just in time for a great party at Mutaz and Fadi's place!

She Puts the 'ifer in Joshifer!

Amman, Jordan

My first Arabic teacher is back in Jordan for a brief visit to her family, and we went out to dinner tonight. When I came to Jordan with Peace Corps, Jennifer was my Language and Culture Coordinator (LCF). She spent 5 hours 4 days a week teaching Arabic to me, Naureen, Audra and Jeremy (and a couple other trainees who left early). She also lived with us in the village of Ma'in, right next door to me. It was the first time she'd lived outside of Amman, and it was as much a culture shock for her as it was for us. Even though she, a Jordanian Christian, was living with Jordanian Christians in a village that had traditionally always been Christian, it was like another country. (I've always said that Amman isn't Jordan, it may as well be Eastern Europe minus the vodka!) Jennifer and I spent many evenings working through our culture shock together, and we stayed in touch throughout the rest of my Peace Corps Volunteer service.

Little did any of us know at the time, but Peace Corps Trainee Josh had a serious case of love at first sight of Jennifer, and not long after we became full-fledged Peace Corps Volunteers, he started getting to know Jennifer a little better. He was very discreet, and it was months before anyone but Josie knew anything about it! But once the secret was out, things moved fast. They were together as much as possible, and we started referring to them by just one name: Joshifer. By the end of my Peace Corps service, they were married, and on their way to a new life in Kansas City, Missouri.I kept telling Jennifer she was the bravest person I knew. Not only was she getting married and embarking on a new life a deux, but she was leaving all her family and friends behind and moving to America, too! She knew it would be hard, she told me tonight, and she'd thought she was prepared. But when I went to their American wedding reception in Missouri later that summer, it was clear that it was harder than expected. The sounds at night were different, she was struggling to find a job, she didn't have any friends except her sister-in-law to keep her company while Josh was at work.... Having grown up with bars on her windows like everyone in Jordan, she didn't feel safe in her home in America. It was a much greater challenge than she expected.

Three years later, she's quite well acclimated to the States. She and Josh are now living in Washington, DC, which is a city full of Arabs and Returned Peace Corps Volunteers, including many of our fellow Volunteers from Jordan. Jennifer has old friends and new ones, a fascinating job as a media analyst, and a husband she adores and who adores her. But it's been 3 years since she's seen her family and friends, longer than she expected, and that has started to take it's toll on her now.

It was fun, too, to compare notes on how Jordan had changed since we left it three years ago. She confirmed what I had only suspected (not being particularly familiar with Amman in my Peace Corps days), that women were generally far more conservatively dressed - more hijab and niqab than ever. She had noticed in Cozmo grocery store a phenomenon I became very familiar with at the Modern American School, children who spoke English with a heavy Arab accent, but hardly spoke Arabic at all, most likely because they'd been raised, not by their parents, but by their Filipina or Indonesian or Sri Lankan maids (of which Jennifer says there are a lot more than she's used to seeing). We compared our impressions of Jebel Webdeh, too. I know that neighborhood as the trendy place for young expats - students and young professionals - to live and hang out, but Jennifer knows it as the very Arab neighborhood where she grew up.

It's so nice to see her back in Jordan! I only wish she could stay longer....

A Premature Welcome Home Party

or, History Teachers Are Supposed To Be Good With Dates!

Amman, Jordan

From Welcome Home Party That Wasn't

Well, he can't say we didn't try!
I've been trying for a month to find out when Ryan's coming home, and he hasn't answered my emails, IMs or Facebook messages. He told Christine and Shauna that he was coming back to Jordan a week after them, which would have been the 18th. Then he finally appeared on IM and told me that he was going to be back on the 16th at 5pm. I told Shauna and Christine, and they just figured he'd flaked (not unusual!) and given them the wrong date. So we planned a surprise party, and invited all our mutual friends (mine and Ryan's).

So I got home from work at 7pm expecting to find Christine and Ryan in my apartment. But all I found was Christine. And we waited, and we waited, and then it was after 8pm, and we decided he must not be coming. Typical, flakey Ryan! But the guests had already arrived at Shauna and Christine's, so we went ahead and had a fabulous Welcome Home party without him!

From Welcome Home Party That Wasn't

Towards midnight, when people had started to leave, we finally got Ryan on the phone from the States.
Christine: Where are you? We're having your Welcome Home party without you, you idiot!
Ryan: What do you mean? Did I tell you I was coming today?
Christine: You told me and Shauna the 18th, and you told Maryah the 16th!
Ryan: No, no! I'm leaving on the 16th! You know me. You should have figured it would be the average, the 17th!
Christine (rolling her eyes): Oh, yeah. Our bad!
Ryan: I'll be there tomorrow at 5pm!

From Welcome Home Party That Wasn't

But that's not all! At 2am, Christine got a phone call and I got an email. Ryan's flight had been cancelled, he would be leaving Detroit on the 17th now, and arriving on the 18th at 5pm. I sure hope that's right, because he doesn't have a key to get into the apartment while I'm at work, so Christine has to know when to let herself into the apartment to meet him!

We Thought You Were Palestinian!

From Welcome Home Party That Wasn't

Meanwhile, I had another funny Arabic experience. I ordered the pizza for the party, because my spoken Arabic is much better than Shauna and Christine's. It took a long time, still, to get the directions across, and eventually I had to fetch Heba to do it for me. Meanwhile, friends of Shauna, one Lebanese, the other Palestinian, heard me on the phone in Arabic. "Who is that girl?" they asked Shauna. "Where's she from?" And when Shauna told them, they didn't believe her, so they came and sat next to me. "Where are you from?"
"I'm American."
"No, but you speak perfect Arabic! Your parents must be Arab!"
"My parents are American. My family's been in America for 400 years."
"But you sound just like a Palestinian!"
"Heba! You've infected me with your Palestinian accent! They're saying I don't sound like Bani Hassan anymore, I sound Palestinian!"
"I'm Lebanese, but he's Palestinian. There's nothing wrong with a Palestinian accent!"
"But you don't understand! I'm Bani Hassan! Maryah al-7ara7sheh! Just ask anyone in Jerash about Maryah the Foreigner. They'll tell you, She's not a foreigner. She's our daughter, Maryah al-7ara7sheh!"

...and what did they say on their way out the door? "Ma3a as-salaama, ya SalTiya! (Goodbye, girl from Salt!)"

Where the Women Are Strong...

Mshairfeh, Jerash, Jordan

Wijdan: I have to tell you something, Maryah. I'm pregnant again. ... Sometimes I hate myself.

It's sad, because despite circumstances that make lesser women bitter and mean, Wijdan's a great mother. Her eldest daughter, Ghadeer, is one of the brightest students in the village, and Wijdan's doing her best to make sure that Ghadeer gets at least one university degree, even if it means no new Eid clothes for the rest of the family, and that she get it honestly. At the end of last semester, Wijdan went to meet one of Ghadeer's professors. "Did she get good marks? Did she deserve her good marks? Because if I hear that you've given my daughter a mark she didn't deserve, I'll go all the way to the Minister about it!" Her other children may not be particularly apt pupils, but she does her best to insure that they work their very hardest. Kids will be kids and complain about homework and housework and responsibility, but ultimately her children are good people.

That alone can't have been easy, given the influence of their uncle and cousins, who have the respect of almost no one, and are outright despised by many. As my father said when he visited, "I knew that was Wijdan's brother-in-law the moment he appeared, because everyone got stiff and angry. And I do not like that man at all." They didn't even have a common language.

And yet, when Wijdan's eldest son was accused during my visit of giving his female cousin's number to a young man who was making inappropriate phone calls, the family was outraged, and it was righteous outrage. We all know full well that he would no more give out his cousin's number than he would his sister's! He puts on a good facade of rebellious independence, but at his core he's fiercely loyal with strong moral convictions. He is what the Arabs call "ibn al-halaal," a kosher son.

It's easy to see where the children get this from. Wijdan is a one-woman contradiction of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, which says that if basic needs are not met, an individual will not be driven to pursue personal growth or societal development. Here's a woman who can barely put food on the table for her 7 children, but dedicates enormous amounts of time and energy to her position as the chair of the village's social welfare society. Not only that, but she's become involved through the local LDS Volunteers in helping other welfare societies in the area. As she was peeling the last of her potatoes for breakfast, she said to me, "If I could, I would take care of everyone. I would make sure that every girl could afford to go to university. I would help everyone."

Quote of the Day:
Abu Tareq: Umm Tareq never teaches me any English!
Hadeel (6 y.o.): What do you want with English? You're a man!

It was the most I'd laughed all week. But it reflects a definite phenomenon in many Jordanian communities, whereby women are pushing their daughters to learn English and get higher degrees because it's their only way out of poverty and misery, but putting far less emphasis on the education of their sons, who have many other options that don't require a university degree.

Strengthening Local Aid Societies

Mshairfeh, Jerash, Jordan

Anyone who knows me well knows that I have very little patience for people who lecture others in order to convert them to any particular religious belief. But anyone who truly knows me knows that I have no objections to people who seek to change hearts through their actions. Jesus preached social transformation by deeds, not words, and I have nothing but admiration for those who embody their love of Christ by doing good works to benefit others. While I regularly turn away the Mormons who come knocking at my door in the States, I have great admiration for the work that LDS volunteers are doing in Jordan.

On one hand, it's about the effect they have had on individual people who are dear to me, namely Wijdan's family and the social welfare society she chairs in Mshairfeh. In addition to the material support they provided for the latter, the previous LDS Volunteers provided tremendous moral and financial aid to Wijdan. In short, the series of LDS Volunteers who have aided Mshairfeh have been good friends to Wijdan and her family. They supported her through a major marital crisis, they've helped her manage the complex politics of chairing a voluntary society, they hired her for occasional translation jobs, and they took her to the hospital and home again when Taqwa was born.

On the other hand, it's the philosophy of development that the current LDS Volunteers were espousing to me at Wijdan's. Their impact has now spread from a dozen societies to over 3 dozen societies in the Irbid and Jerash areas, and in part their philosophy has changed because it's become impractical to serve everyone directly. At the same time, however, it has become possible for societies to help each other, with the LDS Charities merely facilitating, coordinating and helping to provide funds and supplies for the projects in place. The schoolbags they're providing for local children are being sewn and filled by a local society. Another society is assembling hygiene kits. Another is assembling kits for newborns. Another society is teaching villages in the region how to grow and market mushrooms. When a container load of wheelchairs arrives shortly in Jordan, they will be working with Peace Corps Volunteers and local societies like Wes's center in Irbid and Arwen's family's charity Eleanor's Project to distribute the wheelchairs where they're most needed (perhaps in response to the fate of the last load of wheelchairs, which ended up in some local official's private stash). Sustainability is their byword, they said, and I believe it's the only way to go! "Strengthening Families" is their motto, but they're doing more than that; they're strengthening the grass-roots civil society movements that support local families, too.

In fact, it's not just about what they do in Jordan. I remember how impressed I was with what I'd heard about the LDS Charities when I was mucking out houses in New Orleans. It took FEMA, famously, months to get relief supplies into the areas hit by Hurricane Katrina. The LDS Charities, on the other hand, had the essentials packed in container trucks and the drivers on standby 3 days before the hurricane struck, and were on the road as soon as it was clear where they would be needed. Consequently, their supplies were on site precisely when they were needed.

Amman: One Big Village!

Amman, Jordan

On my way to work this morning, I saw a fabulous sight from my taxi: a donkey yearling wandering down the street in front of the Safeway. It reminded me of a photograph one of my Peace Corps friends took several years back in Abdoun, the poshest neighborhood in the city:
This may have been 3 years ago, but it still happens. Just a year ago, I was having dinner with Marissa and her Arabic professor's brother and his wife in Abdoun. They told us several stories of herds of sheep in the empty lot across from their home.