#YesAllWomen, #NotAllMen, Peace Corps-style

It's probably June, 2004. The phone rings in the middle of the night, waking me out of an exhausted sleep. I grope for it, check the display. It's about three a.m. and I don't recognize the number. I mute the ringer and try to go back to sleep.

The phone rings again. Same number. I'm pretty sure I know what this call is, but there's an outside chance it could be someone from Peace Corps Jordan or the U.S. Embassy. I'm a warden, which means four other Peace Corps Volunteers would consolidate at my house in the event of political unrest or natural disaster, and I would be responsible for calling them all with the consolidation order. Just in case, I pick up. "'Allo?"

"Hello-oo! What your name?"

"None of your business. Don't call again." I hang up.

My phone immediately rings again. Same number. I mute the ringer and save his number as DoNotAnswer3. It rings again. I let it ring till it stops, then it rings a fifth time. I grab a notebook and start a tally. Six. Seven. On the eighth call, I pick up but don't speak. I'm cross-legged on my comforter, phone by my knee, but I can still hear him.

"Hello? Hello? What your name? Hello? Hello? Why you not talk me? Hello?" The phone goes dead.

He calls again. I hit the green button but leave the phone on the bed. "Hello? Hello? Why you not say hello? Hello?" After a few more tries, he hangs up and calls again.

In Jordan, it doesn't cost me anything to receive a call on my cell phone, but it costs him money if I pick up. I hear him getting angry. "Hello? Why you do this me? Hello? I spend money this call. Why you not talk me? Hello?"

All told, he calls me thirteen times in under an hour. The moment he or I hang up, he calls back. It's four a.m. on a Wednesday, and I have to leave for school at seven to teach, but I'm not angry. Not this time. I'm actually pretty pleased with myself, because I had never thought of picking up without answering, running up his phone bill. It feels inspired, and it feels righteously vindictive.

I have only recently begun saving these numbers in my phone as DoNotAnswer, so even though I'm calling this one #3, there have been dozens. They usually happen in the middle of the night. Sometimes, though, we Peace Corps Volunteer girls get these calls when we're with a Volunteer who is a native Arabic speaker. He'll take the phone and demand, "Who do you think you are, calling my sister?" That number, at least, will never call again. A male relative's authority carries extra weight in Jordan, where honor killings happen about a dozen times a year.

Before I leave for school, I call Samir, the Peace Corps security guy. I tell him what happened and give him the number of DoNotAnswer3. Samir says he'll take care of it, and I trust him to do the culturally appropriate thing. Peace Corps trusts Samir, and the U.S. Embassy trusts him, so I trust him more than any Jordanian man I know.

Samir is a small, compact, nondescript man. He's quiet, soft-spoken and gentle. I don't always notice when he's in the room. He doesn't talk about what he does for us, except to say, "I'll take care of it." Word gets around, though.

"Now, brother, is that how we treat guests in our culture? Is that the culture of hospitality the Prophet Mohammad taught us? Shame on you, brother!"

* * * * *

It's nearly midnight the next night when the phone rings again. It's DoNotAnswer3. I ignore it, but by the fourth ring, I am getting angry. "What do you want?"

"Why you tell him about me? I just want be friends." When I hang up, he calls back, again and again. This time, I don't bother to run up his phone bill. I just cancel the calls as they come in. I text Samir and tell him DoNotAnswer3 is calling again.

* * * * *

Friday morning, I'm yanked out of bed by a very angry gut. I spend more than an hour in the bathroom with food poisoning, and then collapse back into my bed. The phone rings, and I pick it up without looking. "'Allo?"

"Good morning, Maryah. I'm in Faiha', and I'm coming to see you." It's DoNotAnswer3, and this time he knows my name and the name of my village. From somewhere below my heaving stomach, I find the strength for outrage, and fear. I call Samir and tell him everything. He tells me to stay home and keep my door locked. I'm too sick to go anywhere anyway.

* * * * *

That afternoon, Samir calls. "The plainclothes police are coming to get your statement," he says. "They say they're in Faiha', almost to your house. Just tell them what you told me."

I can see the nondescript beige sedan pull into my neighbor's driveway, up to the gate of my garden. I come out on the porch as two men get out of the car. I can't invite them in, as a single woman living alone, and in fact they come no closer than the middle of my yard. They want me to explain what happened, but my Arabic isn't good enough and they don't speak English. Finally, I call Samir and pass the phone down so he can explain again for me.

We're three or four meters apart: I, standing up on my porch and they, standing down in the yard. All around us, the neighbors have come out on their porches, staring shoulder-to-shoulder, making no secret of listening to our conversation. It makes me feel safe today, knowing that my neighbors are watching out for me.

After the police return my phone and leave, the headmistress of my school sends her 18-year-old son to find out what's going on. I explain as well as I can, since her son doesn't speak English, either. When he understands, he grins and shakes his head. "You didn't have to call Peace Corps! You should have told him to come on over." He plants his fist in his palm with a loud slapping sound. "We would have taken care of him!"

* * * * *

DoNotAnswer3 is arrested the next day. They don't need me to press charges. He had already been arrested five times for the same harassing behavior.

Often, when Peace Corps Volunteers gather, we swap horror stories. Male Volunteers had their own kinds of horror stories, but they frequently ended theirs with, "But it's so much harder to be a woman in Jordan!"

One day, a married Volunteer pushed back. It was much harder for her husband, she said. It is the imperative of the woman to ignore her harasser, protecting her reputation by not responding, and her security by not further antagonizing him. Men, on the other hand, are compelled to respond. If her husband didn't confront every epidsode of misogyny with outrage, she explained, then they both lost their respect in the community. Her husband is a reticent man, quiet and gentle, and it was extraordinarily troubling for him to have to react with anger and implied violence every day.

Jordan has the highest attrition rate in the Peace Corps. It seemed to me that more men than women cited gender-based harassment as their reason for leaving. Their empathy for our experiences impressed me from the very first week on the ground. They took every misogynistic statement or action seriously and personally. They regularly called out their male colleagues and even strangers on the street. "Is that how you would want me to treat your sister?"

Looking back, I think it was harder for the men in Peace Corps because they weren't prepared. No one was talking about "rape culture" in those days, at least not where I could hear them, but I had internalized it like all the women I know. Before we even arrived in Jordan, we women had already developed some of the defense mechanisms we would need to ignore misogynistic micro-aggressions. We had developed the internal monologue to refute what we heard. "I'm not a baby, my worth doesn't depend on your sexual needs or aesthetic preferences, I'm not a bitch just because you're not getting what you think you deserve."

The men we served with likely didn't see these micro-agressions as often as we did back home. They had the luxury in America of choosing whether to get involved. I don't blame them for that. I think it made it all the harder for them to become the powerful feminist men they became in Jordan, among the strongest voices speaking against rape culture on my Facebook Newsfeed today.

I thank them for their support.

You're Not American

Manhattan, NY, USA

This morning, on my way back from a Pakistani wedding reception in New Jersey last night that was a delightfully glittering, delicious affair, I was doing my best to navigate through weekends on the subway. There are so many cancellations and track changes that it can be very hard to maneuver. I'm beginning to get the hang of it, but the poor Israeli tourist I met was having a much more difficult time working it out.

So there I was, trying with little success to get him to his cousin's house in Queens. "Where are you from?" he asks. "You're not American."
I protest that I am.
"But you have an accent that's not American," he insists.
"Oh, well, I've been living in Egypt and Jordan for the last few years," I offer.
He starts backing quickly away from me. "I'm your neighbor, but I speak Hebrew, not Arabic!" he calls back down the corridor at me.

I think that's the first time a complete and total stranger has ever been afraid of me!

Ding, dong! The Warlord's Dead!

Cairo, Egypt

"I've never wished a man dead, but I have read some obituaries with great pleasure."

- Mark Twain

It's not that I'm happy Bin Laden the man is dead. I would have preferred a trial, public humiliation, and a long prison sentence in Guantanamo or some Saudi shit-hole of a prison ... but even as I write that I'm conflicted, because those words descend to a level of vindictiveness that I don't want to live by. In the words of Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s Standing By the Side of Love:

The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral,

begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy.

Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it.

Through violence you may murder the liar,

but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth.

Through violence you may murder the hater,

but you do not murder hate.

In fact, violence merely increases hate.

So it goes.

Returning violence for violence multiplies violence,

adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars.

Darkness cannot drive out darkness:

only light can do that.

Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.

(Thanks to Carter for the quote.)

No, mostly I'm happy that Bin Laden the symbol and the excuse is dead. I'm listening to Talk of the Nation's coverage of Bin Laden's death on NPR, and one of their Middle East correspondents was talking about how Arabs see this as an end to a decade of collective punishments of the Arabs and other Muslims for the actions of Bin Laden and a few other fanatics. Afghanistan, Iraq, Bagram, Abu Ghraib, Guantanamo Bay, extraordinary rendition, Pakistani drone attacks ... all of these look from the Middle East like punishment for 9/11, the USS Cole, the African embassy bombings, the first WTC bombing.... Now, finally, we've gotten rid of the man who, for the West, represents the deepest evil that Islam has to offer and too often blinds us to the great good that's present in Islam. True, Zawahiri and al-Masri are still out there, and hundreds of others bent on wreaking havoc on the West and Western installations in the East, but the biggest, baddest wolf is gone. It doesn't mean we automatically withdraw from Iraq and Afghanistan, close Guantanamo and put it all behind us, but it's a powerful step in the right direction.

At the same time, I think it's important to put this event into context. While Americans are making a big deal out of this attack, Arabs have other things on their minds. Hundreds are dying in Syria every day, and in Libya, standing up to mad, relentless dictators. The outlook for Yemen is not much better. Egypt and Tunisia are busy rebuilding - or, I should say, building - nations they can be proud of. Jordanians, Palestinians, Iraqis, Bahrainis, Saudis, Lebanese ... they're all busy with extremely important and emotional domestic issues.

Osama Bin Laden is barely relevant here anymore, and the single desperate act of a fruit vendor in Tunisia deserves more credit for that than a 10-year, trillions-of-dollars manhunt. The youth of the Arab Spring are disciples of Rev. King and Václav Havel of Czechoslovakia's Velvet Revolution, with whom some of the April 6 Youth studied nonviolent resistance techniques. Even when they were being attacked with horses and Molotov cocktails on Tahrir Square, Egyptian protesters were chanting "Peaceful! Peaceful!" to hold themselves and each other to a philosophy that rejects violence, even in retaliation for violence. Disciples of Osama Bin Laden still exist, but a much larger portion of Arab youth have found a far more powerful and effective means of expression.

A Little Further Up the Rift Valley....

Cairo, Egypt

After reviewing an essay assignment for which I assessed the effects of geography on Jordan's economy, my professor asked me why I thought there hadn't been widespread protests in Jordan. Naturally, I was all to happy to explicate. In fact, it's a question I've discussed before in the last month, and I thought I'd share a few thoughts on the matter.

I think it's obvious to most Jordanians, both in the cities and the villages, both the educated elite and the less educated middle and lower classes, that reform actually is happening in Jordan at a fairly rapid pace, and that the king is the primary impetus behind it. They may have their critiques about what the king pushes, how and why, but they can see positive change happening from year to year.

Since King Abdullah II came into power, there have been drastic ongoing improvements in education at all levels, with a focus on an IT economy, and Jordanian Internet entrepreneurs have been among the most successful in the Arab world. The national debt has decreased, the salaries of teachers have more than doubled in the last two years, tourism and medical tourism have steadily increased despite regional instability, and many other factors of economic health have shown obvious evidence of improvement. Freedom of expression continues to expand, and Jordanian bloggers are award-winning. There has also been significant development in infrastructure.

In addition, King Abdullah II has demonstrated repeatedly that he listens to the concerns of his people, and acts decisively to address those concerns whenever possible. I don't know anyone in Jordan who really believes that a significant segment of Jordanians have any intention of being rid of the king that has done so well by them.

I think it is also worth noting that in a kingdom with relatively low oppression, like Jordan and Morocco, it is neither a surprise nor an imposition when the son of that king is next in line to lead the country. The effect of Presidents Ben Ali in Tunisia, Mubarak in Egypt, Gaddhafi in Libya and Saleh in Yemen all conspiring to put their sons in the presidency after them should not be underestimated in determining the reasons for their respective ousters and attempted ousters.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch....
When I arrived at St. Andrews to teach my Arabic class for Somali refugees, the education coordinator said to me, "So the Interior Ministry's burning down, is it?"
"What?" I asked. "That's two blocks from my apartment, and I've just come from there! How could I not have noticed?" If I'd known, I might not have left home for fear that my road would be blocked off when I came home.
So we turned to the local paper's Website and found this stunning image. Apparently Interior Ministry employees were also protesting downtown today, and I had no idea, holed up taking classes and doing homework in the AUC dorms in cozy Zamalek - an island in more ways than one!

HR 1 and the Future of International Education

The memo below on budget cuts in the US Congress was circulated on Cairo Scholars today. The proposed budget cuts detailed below have profound effects on study abroad, cultural exchange, peace work and critical language teaching in the Egypt, the Middle East and beyond. These reductions effect both American students, professors and scholars seeking opportunities abroad, and also foreign students, professors and scholars wishing to enrich American institutions with their wealth of experience. It also represents a drastic reduction in resources and opportunities for American students starting at the kindergarten level to interact with the greater world.

In this era of globalization, interconnectivity and interdependence, we should be increasing our understanding of the rest of the world. I've seen photos of Egyptians holding placards in solidarity with striking government workers in Wisconsin, and government workers in Wisconsin holding placards in solidarity with Egypt, Libya, Algeria and Bahrain. This is how the world works now, and failing to prepare our youth for that reality will, in the long run, worsen our economic, political and cultural power far more than the deficit it reduces.

Dear MESA members,

Many of you will have been immersed in the news of the extraordinary events taking place in the Middle East over the last month or so. This update is to bring to your attention some important developments happening in the U. S. Congress that could affect programs in foreign language and area studies. A number of programs funded by the U.S government have been targeted for either major budget cuts or complete elimination.

Thinking that area studies specialists may be concerned about this possibility, I pass on information about a few programs particularly relevant to the broad disciplinary interests of MESA members.

Background
The U.S. House of Representatives passed House Resolution 1 (H.R.1) last week. What is H.R.1? It is the 2011 full-year continuing appropriations Act. It would extend the current 2011 fiscal year funding which expires March 4, 2011.The Senate returns from recess next Monday (February 28) to begin work on its version of a budget for the remainder of FY11. Many things can happen in the negotiations between the House and the Senate.

In H.R. 1:

• State Department international exchange programs would receive a 21 per cent cut, or a reduction to $501.3 million from the current funding level of $635 million. Two examples of programs funded under this program (http://exchanges.state.gov/scho-pro.html) are the Fulbright Program for Scholars serving scholars and the Critical Language Scholarship (CLS) Program serving undergraduate and graduate students.
• All funding from the United States Institute of Peace ($42.6 million) would be eliminated. www.usip.org USIP funds have supported hundreds of scholars and practitioners through its Senior Fellows program and hundreds of students through its Peace Scholars program. Its Grant Program has provided over 2,000 awards since 1986, a majority of which have supported the work of individual scholars around the world.
• Funding for the K-12 Foreign Language Assistance Program (FLAP) would be eliminated ($26.9 million). This is the Education Department's only dedicated grant program for K-12 foreign language education.
• Funding for the Improvement of Postsecondary Education--FIPSE (including the International Consortia Programs) would be cut entirely ($58 million).
• $350 million from the National Science Foundation would be cut. This could affect research funds for such disciplines and fields as Anthropology, Election Studies, Geography, Linguistics and Political Science.
• For the National Endowment for the Humanities (NEH), H.R. 1 provides a FY 2011 budget of $145 million. This figure represents a $22 million (13%) cut from the agency's FY 2010 enacted budget. Examples of NEH grants are the NEH Research Fellowships, NEH Summer Institutes and Seminars for College and University Teachers, Collaborative Research Awards, Scholarly Editions and Translations Awards, etc.: http://www.neh.gov/news/recentawards.html
• Funding for the Grants and Administration portion of the National Endowment for the Arts would be reduced by $20.5 million. NEA has funded Literature Fellowships for Translation Projects.

Finally, although H.R 1 did not propose any changes to the funding levels for The Higher Education Act, Title VI and Fulbright-Hays 102(b)(6), changes may come up in next week's Senate deliberations or in negotiations with the House. Funded at $125.881 million in FY 2010, these programs represent less than 0.2 percent of the U.S. Department of Education’s discretionary budget. A cost-effective investment, this federal-university partnership stimulates substantial additional funding by universities and foundations.

Sincerely,
Amy W. Newhall
Executive Director

Cycling in Celebration!

Dead Sea, Jordan

I chose to celebrate Egypt's new-found democracy with a Bike & Hike with the group that was formerly known as Tareef Cycling Club.

From Wadi Himara Once More

Jad warmed me that cycling and hiking with the organization Tareef had become was not the same experience as outings with Tareef. Even so, I'd really missed those weekly trips, and I wanted to get out of the city and get some exercise while I was here. Plus, I knew when I'd RSVP'ed to Aktham that he, at least, would be going, and I was looking forward to seeing him. He brought along a fellow Iraqi Kurdish refugee who's been living in Orange County, California, since she was relocated several years ago, and she was also fun to spend time with. We talked a lot about the cultural differences between Jordan and the US: what she and I had learned and Aktham will discover when his resettlement to Anaheim finally comes through.

Sure enough, it was not the same mixed demographic I remember. It was almost entirely 16-18 year old boys. In fact, it reminded me of backpacking with the Boy Scouts in high school, where everything's a race, and the boys were literally climbing the walls of the canyon. Still, it was the same beautiful Wadi Himara I remember from previous trips!

Politics was Inevitable
One of the things I always loved about Tareef was that even while we were raising money for the Gazans in the Hannukah War, no one spoiled our fun with discussions of politics. But Egypt's revolution is something entirely different. It has infused Arabs with a sense of hope they can't remember ever having, perhaps best explained by the Black Iris and Christine Makhamra of 7iber.com. When they find out that I fled Egypt to Jordan, everyone wants to know what it was like to be there at this exciting time. I keep coming back to the same point: for the first time since I've been in Egypt, I'm finally seeing Egyptians proud of their country, hopeful for the future, and believing in their ability to influence national politics. It's inspiring, and I can't wait to go back on Wednesday!

THEY DID IT!!

Amman, Jordan

I never wanted to be in Egypt more than I do right now! History is being made, and I could have gotten on a plane to Cairo this morning and been there to celebrate with my latest host country right now. Hosni Mubarak is out, and Omar Suleiman seems to be, too. The fraudulently elected Parliament has been dissolved. The cabinet has been dismissed.

The regime is half fallen!

But as much as I want to celebrate with the Egyptians, I'm worried. What we basically have in Egypt now is a military coup. Egypt doesn't have a good history with military coups. Everything hinges now on the limits of Tantawi's ambitions. Does he think of himself as the next Nasser? Because then things will get ugly fast!

Best case scenario, Egypt goes the way of Turkey: the military takes control for a few months, until a new government can be democratically elected, and then steps aside until democracy is threatened again. But only time will tell.

The regime is only half fallen.

Proletariat Rising!

Amman, Jordan

In Egypt on Wednesday, the revolution was gaining even greater popular momentum. Workers began striking all over the country, demonstrating a much broader base of support among Egypt’s lower classes. It’s true that the crowds on Tahrir Square include protesters from all walks of Egyptian life; I’ve seen them myself. The protests in Cairo, though, have been attended by a disproportionately large share of young intellectuals, and until Wednesday it was hard to know if they really represented the majority of their countrymen.

Workers’ strikes shouldn’t surprise anyone who’s been watching Egypt over the last several years. Strikes, sit-ins and work slowdowns in Egypt’s factories have been a sporadic nuisance to the business interests of both military and civilian employers for some time. Workers have even been able to gain some concessions in recent years, but Wednesday proved that those concessions were not nearly enough.

That’s why virtually everyone I know, in Egypt, Jordan and America, was certain that Hosni Mubarak would relinquish the presidency in his speech Thursday night. It’s increasingly clear that what’s happening in Egypt is not an intellectual exercise, or a mere youth movement. My roommate confirms that at least three young junior officers of the army have also joined protesters on Tahrir Square, and perhaps as many as fifteen. The military brass may have other plans, but the rank and file are beginning to show their sympathy for the protesters and their own desire for freedom and democracy.

Even as a youth movement, it had power. More than half of Egypt’s population is under 35 years old, and most of them unemployed or underemployed, unable to marry, and with little hope for the future before 25 January. With the working class joining demonstrations, it seems inevitable that the old regime must fall. It seems that only the regime hasn’t yet recognized its fate.

A Breather From Revolution

al-Mshairfeh, Jerash, Jordan

I want to support Egypt, and I've been glued to the TV day after day, but I needed a breather. I don't have the constitution to sit on tenterhooks day and night. And where better to have that break than in my favorite place in Jordan, Wijdan's house! Since I had extended my hospitality (and that of my Jordanian friends) to CASA Fellow Rachel, I extended the village's hospitality as well.

From A Breather From Revolution

I was particularly excited about taking Rachel to Mshairfeh because she's been doing research for her Masters thesis in a small town in Egypt, and I am interested in how she sees them comparatively. We also spent a lot of time on the bus to Jerash comparing the Jordanian Bedouin and Cairene dialects, and I just love people who like to talk linguistics!

Along the way, we took some time to visit the sites of the Roman ruins at Jerash, of course. It was the first time in a long time that I'd been to Jerash and not had anyone marvel at how I talked like a native. It's true, I really do sound like an Egyptian these days! Rachel even more so, which probably contributed to the confusion.

When we got on the bus to Mshairfeh, with a new bus driver who doesn't know me, there was some confusion as to what "those foreigners" were doing on their bus. "She speaks Arabic," I heard one say, "so ask her!" but no one did. "She used to teach in Mshairfeh," said one older man I recognized from West Msharifeh. Then Wijdan's nephew Sahim got on the bus, whose father owns the bus, and explained, "That's Maryah! She's going to my uncle's house. And she speaks Arabic!" As my pedigree was examined, Rachel and I were listening in and laughing quietly.

When we got to Mshairfeh and Wijdan started asking about where we'd been and what we'd done, Rachel said something I hadn't expected. "Maryah," she said, "is like a completely different person in Jordan. She's so happy all the time, so happy to be here." It's true, but I hadn't known it was obvious.

Watching Rachel play with the little kids reminded me of the early days of Peace Corps, when I really struggled to follow adult conversations at the neighbors' houses, and playing with the little kids was such a welcome distraction. I don't mean to suggest that Rachel's Arabic is bad. In fact, I was impressed at how quickly she was able to make a switch to understanding and even beginning to use Jordanian Bedouin Arabic. But as I said to Tareq when he commented on how much fun Rachel was having with the kids, sometimes it's such a relief to play with little kids that don't speak more Arabic than you do!

Abu Tareq On Egypt
At some point, in our conversations about the protests in Egypt, I said something to Abu Tareq that I expected to be controversial. "When I lived in Jordan," I said, "I thought I was living in a very poor country, but then I went to Egypt and realized that Jordan is not a poor country." I expected Abu Tareq, who sometimes has to borrow from his brother to put food on the table, to think that I was belittling the suffering of poor Jordanians. Instead, without a moment's thought, he agreed wholeheartedly, and started citing statistics of how little money most Egyptians live on. "That's why Egyptians come to Jordan to work for just 5JD a day," he said. "For an Egyptian, Jordan is paradise!" Even as we were hearing on TV that Jordanian hospital doctors were going on strike for 5 hours yesterday, Abu Tareq agreed that Jordan is in no danger of revolution. Jordan is a relatively good place to live, and I think even her worst domestic detractors would agree (off the record, of course!)

The Not-Egypt

or, Jordan Is Approaching Modern and Entirely Stable

Amman, Jordan

I've been having the same conversation over and over again in the last few days ... no, in the last few weeks, in fact! I've had it with Returned Peace Corps/Jordan Volunteers, with Jordanians, with Egyptians, with Americans. While everyone in the media is calling Jordan "the next Egypt" and expecting Jordan's imminent collapse in its own revolution, my friends and I are talking about what a mistake it is to consider Jordan and Egypt even remotely in the same category.

As Peace Corps/Jordan Volunteers, we thought we were living in a really poor country. That's what Peace Corps Volunteers do, after all. And I don't mean to suggest that Jordan isn't a place with pervasive, urgent problems of poverty, unemployment, corruption, education and infrastructure. But those of us, Peace Corps Volunteers and Jordanians, who have been to Egypt have a very different view now. Jordan is not a Third World country anymore; it's solidly Second World, on its way to the First World. Poverty, education, corruption and infrastructure in Egypt are in a completely different category.

The degree of despair and hopelessness in Egypt was, until last week, an oppressive weight on me nearly everywhere I went in my daily life in Egypt. When you asked Egyptians about their future, they generally shrugged hopelessly and invoked God. "As God wills," or "It's in God's hands." It's not that you don't see such fatalism in Jordan, but it's not so nearly universal as it seemed to be in Egypt.

I think it's why there's so much more harassment in Egypt. Everywhere we girls go in Cairo, almost every young man we pass shouts "Ya muzza [banana]!" or "Ya buTTa [duck]!" or "Ya 3assal [honey]!" or one of a hundred other variations on "Hey, baby!" These are young men who probably hold a Bachelor's degree, but are likely unemployed or underemployed. They can't expect to marry before 40, or even have a girlfriend. They're socially, economically, sexually and emotionally frustrated. With no hope in sight, they amuse themselves by harassing passing women - not just foreigners, but Egyptian women, too, both with and without the hijab. You get a little of that in Jordan, but again, not on the same scale.

Since I returned to Egypt on Jan 27, though, I only heard these variations on "Hey, baby!" twice, and both times from pro-Mubarak thugs. For the first time Egyptians are feeling like they have some hope, some agency in their own futures. Jordanians have been developing that sense of agency for many years, and don't show the kind of hopelessness and despair I'm accustomed to in Egypt. A Bachelor's degree means something in Jordan; not as much as it means in America, but something. Men can expect to marry in their late 20s and early 30s. The job market is not as tight. An entrepreneurial Jordanian, especially among the increasing number with computer and English skills, can hope to make something of himself or herself that's better than what his or her father could achieve.

The country has a long way to go, but it's definitely going there. King Abdullah II's school reforms have transformed education in the Kingdom, and I watched it happen first hand as a Peace Corps Volunteer. University reforms are still necessary, but as today's schoolkids enter university, that change is inevitable. There are now computers in 99% of Jordanian schools, and more and more Jordanian families are acquiring computers and Internet access. From school reforms, the culture of the whole country is changing, becoming more aware of the greater world, learning more critical thinking skills, and becoming more politically active at home.

What's essential to understand about Jordan is that, though things are in need of significant improvement, you can see that improvement happening, bit by bit, around the country. The Jordanian standard of living is slowly going up, and the people know that their king, for all that he's controversial, has had a lot to do with how the country has improved. He has pushed for economic, educational and social reform. While many Jordanians may feel that he and his wife are more Westernized than Jordanian, they still see the tangible benefits of modernization, of conforming to the international standards of the Western, developed nations. Though privately they complain about this or that the king is doing, I still believe that most Jordanians are proud of their king.

You could see this clearly by comparing the massive protests in Egypt to the small demonstrations in Jordan. On Friday, 28 January, Egyptians came into the streets by the millions demanding "the fall of the system," i.e. of the whole government leadership, and the resignation of Pres. Mubarak. In contrast, a couple hundred Jordanians came out to ask for certain laws to be repealed. The Egyptian police responded with teargas, water cannons and rubber bullets, but the Jordanian police brought Pepsi and sandwiches to the demonstrators. On Friday, 4 January, millions of Egyptians came out again, demanding freedom of expression and the fall of the government. In Jordan, about 50 Communists gathered to chant a few slogans in the most desultory, bored fashion you could imagine for a demonstration. Even the sensationalists at CNN, when they went around downtown Amman, Jordan, looking for revolutionaries, couldn't find anyone who even wanted to protest, let along overthrow the government.

The Sad Consequences
Knowing what I know about Jordan, and what my American and Jordanian friends see on the streets here, I know that Jordan is still the safest place I've ever lived in the world. I've heard that hundreds of tourists have canceled their plans to vacation in Jordan, because it's an inch away from Cairo on a map, or because of the media's attempt to portray Jordan as the next powderkeg. Jordan depends heavily on those tourists and their money, and this will be a blow for Jordan's already shaky economy. But Jordan has been through this before, with 9/11, the War in Iraq, the Amman hotel bombings in 2005, and the economic crisis of 2008. Every time it seems that Jordan's tourism sector is finally stable, some global event sends it into a tailspin. Every time Jordan comes back, though, they come back stronger. In the long term, I think Jordan and Jordanians will find themselves in an even better position than ever: more foreign aid, more foreign investment, and more tourism, as Jordan becomes ever better known as the most stable nation on the Red Sea or in the Arab World entirely.

Things Heat Up In Cairo

Cairo, Egypt

Wednesday, 2 February 2011, 9:30AM
Alex and Lev are leaving on the American-organized evacuation flights for Europe today, and my parents have bought me a ticket to Jordan for tomorrow. I’m feeling quite conflicted, as I know Alex has been as well. We want to be here to see Egypt get the democratic, popularly-driven government it wants and deserves. This is the first time I’ve really wanted to be here in Egypt, felt real, deep affection for the people of Egypt. But if Mubarak doesn’t get his head out of his ass and step down by Friday, we’re afraid of what might happen after the afternoon sermon. The military still hasn’t said whose side they’re on, and the pro-Mubarak rally we saw this afternoon was unsettling at best. Discretion being the better part of valor, we’re running for the hills.

It’s not just our safety that’s driving us abroad. For three days, Egyptians have been begging us to get our pictures and experiences out to the rest of the world, to let them know what’s really happening here, and to urge our governments to support the protesters. All along, we’ve been promising to do just that, but we’ve only been able to get things out in bits and pieces over our periodic phone calls from home. Without Internet, the bulk of what we have to show and say to the world is trapped in Egypt. Not to mention that our family and friends are worried at best, frantic at worst, watching on CNN and Fox the repeated reports of looting, vandalism, anti-Americanism and violence in Egypt. If we leave the country, we can get the truth out and better support our Egyptian brothers and sisters in their struggle. We can do our part to put pressure on our government representatives to intervene. And with Skype, we can easily stay in touch with our friends here to keep the lines of communication open.

As I left Zamalek, it became more and more apparent that my taxi driver was an outspoken pro-Mubarak supporter. He had national radio on in the cab, and spoke at great length on how it’s time to end the violence and destruction, to reunite as one Egyptian people behind their president, and to restart an economy that was already failing. I’m reminded of a placard I saw yesterday at the Million Man March that read, “Egypt’s heart has stopped. We’re giving CPR.” As we came across the 6 October Bridge, there were few pro-Mubarak supporters in sight below. As we reached street-level, traffic was backed up as usual in the interchange near Ramsis street. “Did you ever think,” I joked with my driver, “that you’d be happy to see a traffic jam in Cairo? Things feel so normal again!” He agreed, assuring me that the worst was over and today would be the last day of protests. The government had already announced that Internet service would resume today, and by tomorrow the country would be back to normal, he said. I hope he’s right, but I’m skeptical.

Here in my apartment near Tahrir Square, things look quiet. My French roommate is moving the last of her things to her new apartment around the corner, a move she’s been planning on for a couple weeks now. My German roommate, meanwhile, filled up all the beds and couches in the apartment with protesters and foreign observers who hadn’t been able to go home last night. They are very apologetic about sleeping in my bed, but I’m glad to have been able to extend that service, even unknowingly, in support of the revolution. The Eritrean-German girl across the hall is back in her apartment, looking much more confident and optimistic than the last time I saw her.

11:30AM
My taxi to Dokki had to take the long way around, through Mounira down to the Botanical Garden, and then back up along the Nile to Tahrir Street in Dokki. These are mostly lower middle class neighborhoods, very different from Zamalek where I’ve been staying until today. As we drove through, things looked pretty normal. About two thirds of shops, restaurants and businesses seemed to be open. Despite widespread rumors of food shortages, especially bread, shelves seem to be pretty well stocked here and the usual street vendors are out selling government-subsidized bread. Traffic was still nothing like its usual snarl, but seemed to be up to almost half its usual volume. There were police deployed in their usual numbers. We passed several knots of protesters, but it was unclear which side they were on. Those holding signs on the square in front of the Sheraton seemed to be pro-Mubarak supporters, calling for national unity.

The best news is that Internet is now back up, and I can start putting up pictures and updating my blog again, not to mention reassuring the dozens of people who’ve sent emails, Facebook messages and posts and tweets to express their concern and lend their support. It makes me feel a little more guilty about leaving Egypt at this critical juncture, knowing that I could still get this information out if I stayed, but there’s no telling how long Internet will remain available, and discretion is still the better part of valor!

12:30PM
Before we got sucked into all the things we have to do on the Internet (and while it’s still night in America and no one in America is sitting by their email and Facebook in suspense), we decided to walk to Tahrir Square and see for ourselves what demonstrations look like today. On our way down the main street of Dokki, we were stopped by several groups of men who told us that “the real protest” (the pro-Mubarak protest) was in the other direction. As we crossed over onto Gezira Island, we noticed that almost all the taxis had “Yes to Mubarak” signs in their windshields. Not only that, but they were all relatively late-model taxis, which prompted Rachel to mention that there’s a government program that helps taxi drivers buy new vehicles. We suspect the government may have been using that as leverage to get these drivers out with a pro-government message.

As we crossed Kasr al-Aini Bridge, we started to get an uneasy feeling. All along the bridge there were knots of people arguing. Most were having pretty civil conversations. The anti-government protesters understand that real democracy means dialogue with the opposition, and they’re seeking opportunities to do that. They’re also whole-heartedly dedicated to non-violence, which includes verbal non-violence, and they were demonstrating that all along the bridge. The pro-Mubarak supporters, though, were very different. They were shouting, even screaming, with a very angry edge to their tones. And they were arriving by the minibus-full, as they were at yesterday’s pro-Mubarak rally down the Corniche. We’re pretty sure that they’re being bussed in by the government.

The closer we got to the military roadblock on the far side of the bridge, the more uneasy we became. Arguments became more and more heated, and there was a definite threat of violence in the air. We decided we didn’t want to take the risk of getting stuck on Tahrir Square if violence does break out, and retreated back to Dokki.

On our way back towards Dokki, Rachel was stopped by a father moving towards Kasr al-Aini Bridge with his five grown daughters. They had heard reports of violence breaking out on Tahrir Square, and were stopping people coming from that direction to see if they could get more information. As we talked to them, several knots of men tried to start an angry political discussion with the father, but he was very quietly refusing to engage in political debate, and asking only for the facts. Eventually, several anti-government protesters came by, pointing out that the anti-government faction was so much bigger than the pro-Mubarak faction that they would be crazy to start violence.

4:00PM
Andrew and Cosette are on Tahrir Square, where things are getting scary. Pro-Mubarak supporters have gotten onto Tahrir Square and are picking fights with anti-government protesters. Hoping to maintain a peaceful protest, the anti-government protesters are surrounding pro-government instigators, moving them off the square, and throwing over the fence in front of the Mugamma to be arrested by the military. We’ve urged Andrew and Cosette to get out of there quickly, before it gets worse.

Yesterday on Tahrir Square felt very much like I imagine it would have felt to be on the National Mall in Washington, DC, listening to Martin Luther King, Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech. Today, though, it feels more like Birmingham, Alabama. Even under threat of very real violence against them, protesters continue to stand by their vow of nonviolence, the vast majority of them refusing to engage in violence even when they’ve been attacked and their lives are at very real risk. I can only hope that they can maintain the peace.

In the interim, someone’s mother has passed on the gist of an interview she saw with one of the “pro-Mubarak supporters.” Apparently he told journalists that he didn’t particularly want to be there, but that he works for the national petroleum company, and his superiors ordered him to Tahrir Square to support his president. None of us are the least bit surprised by this.

4:58PM
We’re watching on al-Jazeera English the action on Tahrir Square. There is definite violence happening on the street, with pro-government supporters attacking the thus-far peaceful protesters in running street battles, with the battle lines flowing back and forth. Anti-government protesters are holding their ground as best as they can without weapons. Pro-government “protesters” have hijacked several military trucks, are hurling rocks and bricks and other debris from rooftops onto the protesters below, and are attacking anti-government protesters from horse- and camel-back. The army is just standing by and watching. Rumor is that many of these instigators are plain-clothes or secret police sent by the Mubarak government to foment violence. Others are claiming that pro-Mubarak supporters have been delivered to points near the square in police transports. Foreign journalists are reporting that pro-Mubarak supporters have attacked them. Meanwhile, there are no ambulances around to take away the injured, whose numbers are growing.

5:26PM
The Government is claiming that there are no plain-clothes or secret police among the pro-Mubarak supporters, and that these are simply ordinary Egyptians coming out to protest the violence and instability that has filled their streets for the last nine days. Of course, this jives with Mubarak’s attempt last night to paint himself as a force for stability and order. Moreover, the army is not making any effort to stop the pro-Mubarak supporters from their frightening acts of violence. That seems a pretty fair indication that the military has taken the side of the regime. The government is also denying that shots have been fired, though of course reporters have them on tape by this time.

5:37PM
Buildings are burning and tear gas is billowing on Ramsis Street beside the Egyptian Museum. El-Baradei is calling for the army to intervene, but it’s clear they have no intention to do any such thing. One emergency vehicle is coming up the Corniche towards Tahrir as night falls, but it’s unlikely it will come close enough to the square to be of any assistance. Only one emergency vehicle is not going to help a conflict of this scale. Now a second is on its way, but it’s still a mere palliative.

10:19PM
After hours of relative quiet on Tahrir Square, now there’s gunfire sounding over the plaza. My German roommate is making frequent reports over Facebook on the state of things in the downtown. He’s been onto Tahrir Square several times with medical supplies, water and moral support. I’m concerned for his safety, but impressed by his dedication to Egypt’s cause. He says that it’s a war zone down there, and with very little help in sight. Among other things, he reports that they’ve given shelter in our apartment to a foreign journalist who was attacked by pro-Mubarak supporters near Tahrir Square. I know a couple of German journalists who previously lived in our building have also been using our apartment as one their refuges.

My roommate also works with refugees in his usual job, and considers many of them his friends. As he gets them, he’s posting updates on Facebook about the refugee experience in the revolution. On a good day, it’s tough to be a refugee in Egypt, where unemployment is so high and wages so low for Egyptian citizens that they begrudge every pound spent on refugees they didn’t ask for. Now, with most ATMs out of cash and all the banks closed, UNHCR has been unable to pay out the usual food stipends that refugees depend on. At the same time, with rampant rumors of food shortages, shops are refusing to sell to refugees. This evening, as violence broke out on Tahrir Square, it’s also breaking out in refugee neighborhoods across the city, and many of the city’s Sudanese, Somali, Iraqi and other refugees now fear for their lives.

11:30PM
I’ve just spoken to an old Peace Corps friend, Ashley Bates, who works as a journalist with Mother Jones. I’ve linked in the past to her excellent reporting on the Gaza Strip, where she lived for a year as a freelance reporter, so she can relate more than almost anyone else I know to what it’s been like here. I’m not sure if it was an interview exactly, or just checking in and getting some background, but either way it was great to talk to her. She’s been tracking the experiences of Sudanese refugees in this crisis, the role of the Muslim Brotherhood, and other stories periphery to the street fighting. She’s putting me in touch with some of her other contacts, as well.

Thursday, 3 February 2011, 8:11AM
I’m at the airport. We decided it was best to leave Dokki as early as possible, to be sure that we could find a cab and get through the streets before too many pro- or anti-government protesters were awake and, in the case of the former, spoiling for a fight. As we walked out towards the main thoroughfare, there were amateur roadblocks set up every hundred meters or so, and a cluster of tough-looking men standing on the corner between the King Hotel and the Wafd Party offices. The neighborhood was well-protected and showed no signs of any sort of struggle last night. Out on Tahrir Street, it was easy to flag down a taxi. We didn’t even bother to ask about price, just deciding among ourselves that we’d pay LE150, a little more than twice the usual fare to the airport, and be glad to get there safe and sound. After all, it’s a number easily divisible by 3!

Our taxi was stopped once on the Dokki side by a neighborhood watch who wanted to see the driver’s license and peek in the trunk, but everyone was very calm and collected about it, and we went on easily enough. The streets were virtually empty, except for the overpasses on the east end of the 6 October Bridge. We’d seen footage on al-Jazeera last night of pro-government supporters throwing stones and Molotov cocktails off those overpasses on the anti-government protesters below. Men were still clustered between burnt-out carcasses of cars along those overpasses, brandishing machetes, kitchen knives, and big sticks. I’m just glad not to have seen any guns. After that it was smooth sailing through virtually deserted streets to the airport.

It’s crowded here, with long lines at the Domestic Departures end of Terminal 3, and every seat filled with people waiting for later flights here at the International Departures end. Emma and Sarah have gone through the first security checkpoint to Check-In. I’ve been told to wait out in the Entrance Hall until 1:30, as my flight will not leave till quarter of five. But I managed to find an electrical outlet to plug in my laptop (the battery only lasts about 20 minutes these days) and am settled in for the long haul on the floor along the wall. Now that I’m here at the airport, I feel safer than I have in more than a day. My flight is as scheduled, as have almost all flights been in the last 48 hours. We’ve heard that they’re loading people on their planes as soon as they’re checked in and through security, instead of the usual loitering in the terminal, so that when the plane is cleared for take-off, they can leave immediately.

I was telling the girls, it’s been a long time since I’ve been this emotional about flying, maybe even since I left for Switzerland at 16. I’ve been doing my best to pull what my mother calls “the stoic Maryah act,” but one thing’s for sure: I’ll never be a war reporter! Yesterday was really scary, and no one knows if today and especially tomorrow (Friday) will be any better. I’m incredibly excited for Egypt right now. For the first time, people have a pride in their country and a sense of agency to improve it that I’ve never seen. At the same time, I worry that things may get far worse before they get better. I’m sorry to go, but also relieved.

As I leave for Jordan, let me also put to rest any concerns you may have about Jordan. As an expression of how different the conditions are in Egypt and Jordan, take demonstrations last Friday. While the Egyptian police met protesters with teargas and rubber bullets, the Jordanian police met protesters with Pepsi and sandwiches. They handed out a light lunch, King Abdullah went on state television and said he’d make some changes, people said, “We just wanted to know you were listening,” and they went home. In the last six years that I’ve been following Jordan’s politics, I can assure you that asking for the resignation of the Jordanian government is a normal thing for King Abdullah. It happens about every 6 months or so. Furthermore, anyone who’s been to both Jordan and Egypt can tell you that the situations there are completely different. Jordan is a relatively poor country, but it does not have the kind of abject poverty you find in Egypt, and certainly not on the scale you see in Egypt. Jordan is a stable country. None of my dozens of friends there are the least bit worried, which includes officials of both the Jordanian and American governments, activist bloggers, expats and ordinary Jordanians. There are always changes being asked for in Jordan, but the people know that King Abdullah has their best interests at heart, and they see things getting better all the time.

Talking About Teaching

Cairo, Egypt

This week's topic was education, which made me really happy, since that's the topic I'm best able to talk about in Arabic! And from bottom to top, the problems in the education system in Egypt are exactly the same as Jordan's: enormous class sizes, under-valued teachers, unhealthy focus on all-important exam results, and every parent's insistence that his children will be doctors and engineers, leading to wide-spread cheating in school and beyond. These are the problems everyone can agree on.

Then there are the more controversial problems, controversy aggravated by the role of American politics and money in these issues. There is genuine concern by many - both Arabs and Westerners - about the role education plays in religious extremism. The American solution, backed by American money, is to increase secularization and critical thinking in Arab national curricula, but these are touch topics in a constitutionally Islamic nation like Egypt or Jordan. Islam calls for government to be guided by religious principles, and to direct its citizens on the right path and protect them from sin. That's why, for example, alcohol is illegal in Saudi and proselytizing religions other than Islam is illegal in many Muslim countries. And as for critical thinking, well, that's okay in secular subjects - the sciences and social sciences - but it makes many conservative religious scholars nervous. It smacks of criticism, paternalism, and even neo-imperialism that belittles Egyptian character, values and history.

Meanwhile, of course, Egyptian kids are sitting 60 or 90 kids to a classroom (this is in grade schools!) with underqualified, grossly underpaid teachers who probably wanted to be doctors or engineers, but were forced into teaching because their exam scores weren't quite high enough. And it's just so hard to see a way out!

Egyptian Fashion

First Impressions

Cairo, Egypt

I've been thinking about this entry since I arrived in Egypt, and after discussing hijab in my MSA class all week, it seemed the perfect time to get it out there.

Now, when I discussed this idea with my new roommate Nellie, who has lived in Cairo for 4 years, she took issue with several of my observations. Bear in mind that they are only first impressions. That said, many of my classmates have lived in Egypt before, and the professor has lived here all his life, and they tended to agree with most of what I'm about to say. My search for good photos also revealed this blogger who agrees with many of my observations, as well as expounding quite beautifully on many more of her own.

This is the photograph in my textbook:

The two women on the left are wearing the chimar, the third woman is wearing the niqab, and the woman on the right is wearing the hijab. In Amman, the hijab is the primary mark of modesty you'll see, and rarely falls much below the shoulders. In rural southern Jordan, you see a lot of niqab, but not so much in the places I've lived. Here in Cairo, the niqab is far more prevalent, and even more so in the villages we passed returning from the North Shore. The chimar is rare in Jordan, but very prevalent here, perhaps especially among middle-aged women and under the niqab. The girls on the right side of this picture are also wearing skirts, which are much more popular here than in Jordan; in this weather, I prefer them, too!

I've also seen a lot more chador here, like the women in the background of this picture:

I generally associate these with Shi'ites, particularly Iraqis and Iranians. Our professor says that they are a very new phenomenon in Egypt, only becoming popular in the last few years. I've seen some very interesting use of the chador, too, incorporating it into a headscarf.

There's also a marked difference in style. In Jordan, most women wear their headscarves not much below the shoulders, if not tucked right into their shirt collars. Here in Egypt, however, fashion seems to favor very long hijab, falling to the waist, hip or even knee:

From Moving to Egypt

There are more images in my Web Album, but you get the picture. It makes me wonder if this style of hijab isn't somehow cooler, and thus more suited to this climate. A style that definitely is cooler is the so-called "Spanish style" that leaves the neck exposed:

From Moving to Egypt

I got this image from The Hijab Blog, an interesting site by a Canadian woman who just adores Cairene hijab fashion.

Another popular trend I've noticed is the layered look:

From Moving to Egypt

This I confess to not understanding at all, as this style must be HOT in Egyptian weather.

In general, I would say that Egyptian girls are more likely to wear hijab than Jordanians, and more likely to wear a more conservative style. This was primarily where my roommate and I disagreed, she claiming that plenty of girls wore "hijab in name only," paired with clothes so tight and revealing that they may as well not bother with the scarf. I've certainly seen those girls here, and there are plenty of them, but not nearly as many as I'm used to seeing in Amman, or even in more rural parts of northern Jordan.

A Note On Terminology
What you will not see in Egypt (nor probably in France, England, or anywhere else that it's generating legal controversy) is the burka, a distinctive and comprehensive covering pretty much exclusive to Afghanistan and parts of Pakistan.

This is not a burka; it's a niqab, but with an extra layer of material covering the eyes:

Done, Not Forgotten

Amman, Jordan

This is it. Officially resigned from Bell Amman, beginning to pack for my move to Jordan, already starting the rounds of farewell dinners, brunches, drinks and a party. Only 2 more days to enjoy Jordan before being dropped in the melee of Cairo!

I'm pretty certain that I'll be back. I've got the whole month of August off from the CASA program, and I expect I'll grab the opportunity to teach for part of Bell Amman's Young Learner Program. I wrote the course for the IB / IGCSE Program, fully expecting to teach it and very excited about the idea. Every time it was put off again was a huge disappointment. Now, though, it turns out I might be able to teach a part of it after all. (Also, the money isn't bad!)

Nevertheless, it's odd to think that I'm leaving after all this time! I'm really gonna miss this country and my friends here!

Independence Ride

Happy 64th Birthday, Jordan!

Madaba and Mount Nebo, Jordan

From Birds of Mount Nebo

I celebrated with a Tareef Cycling trip. A lot of people cancelled at the last minute to go to Independence Day events, so it was a small group, giving Nader himself a chance to do a little biking.

From Birds of Mount Nebo

Mostly a flat trip, it had a couple good, long hills, and while I would have gone up them in 3rd gear instead of 1st a year ago, I would've had to walk 2 years ago, so I was feeling pretty good about myself.

From Birds of Mount Nebo

We had our barbecue at this gorgeous new tourist facility built behind the Mount Nebo church. Yet another way that Jordan has changed in the time I've been here. At the same time, as several people commented, it seems a waste of money to have built this beautiful facility and then to have it stand empty but for the nesting birds....

Speaking of birds, I went a little overboard trying to catch a couple decent bird photos, after Ghadeer told me on my last visit to the village that the funny looking bird I'd photographed on Amman's Citadel Hill was the hoopoe bird that I've always wondered about.

From Birds of Mount Nebo

Village Voice, Au Revoir Edition

Mshairfeh, Jerash, Jordan

Sihil's Wedding
The first thing on everyone's mind wherever I went was Wijdan's nephew Sihil's wedding, which starts Wednesday. Village weddings are a 3-day affair, with the henna night on Wednesday, party at the bride and groom's houses on Thursday, and the faarida and a combined party at the groom's house on Friday. I was unofficial photographer and videographer at their engagement, and everyone kept asking if I'd be at the wedding with my camera. Well, everyone but Ghadeer, who has named herself the official photographer. However, only is this my last week of work, but on Friday night, the most important night of the wedding, I'm hosting my going away party. I think only the mother of the groom didn't believe me when I said I wished I could go....

I also got a tour of the newlyweds' house. Every room is a different color, and beautifully decorated. The bedspread was just exquisite. As Wijdan said, "It's as if Sihil's maiden aunts are getting married, and not the boy himself!" They went all-out!

Safa's Engagement
I missed it by just a week! The headmistress's eldest daughter, 2 years out of university, has just gotten engaged to a very handsome young man. They attended the same university, and he's the brother of one of the teachers at the headmistress's school. She showed me their engagement photos. He picked out the engagement gown, which was a gorgeous maroon with a drop waist. She also showed me all the gold he'd provided for her engagement. JD5,000 worth, at the present price of gold. No wonder Jordanian men can't afford to marry!

She'll be married in late July, or after Ramadan in September, depending when their house is ready.

"Mimi"
Taqwa, who will be 2 on my birthday this July, is starting to talk. There's the usual: mama, baba, la! [no!]. She can say "mai" [water], and calls her baba "Habibi" [darling]. "Du?" means "Shu?" [What?] and is one of her favorite words. In retrospect, I suppose I should have been paying more attention, seeing as I've resolved to study Arabic language acquisition as a PhD.... And in the 24 hours I was there, she learned a new word: "Mimi." It's how she referred to me. It reminded me of Claire and Calen's godmother Mimi.

"Take her with you?"
Wijdan confessed to me months back that it was her goal to put as many babies as possible in my arms, so that I would finally decided to settle down, get married and have some of my own. Accordingly, almost as soon as I had arrived at the house, she had Rana deposit baby Milak in my arms. I was glad for the distraction from Wijdan's mother-in-law, who's about as subtle as a razor blade, and doesn't like me much ... probably because I'm friends with Wijdan, and she doesn't like Wijdan at all. So there I was, giggling and "chatting" with Milak, who is playing around with her own vocal repertoire. ("At this rate, she'll be talking before Taqwa!" said Wijdan.) The old woman looked up, incredulous and disdainful as usual. "Do you like girls? Why don't you take her with you. We don't need more girls." It's a common sentiment in Jordan, but it makes me cringe every time!

Quote of the Day
"I'm not going to say goodbye, Maryah. I know you'll be back."
I was expecting a very tearful farewell ... dreading it, actually. Wijdan called me the other night in tears about how she hated her life, and now I was leaving.... But she was surprisingly sanguine about the whole thing, assured that I would return sooner or later.

Hot Stuff!

Aqaba, Jordan

There's a warm wind that brings spring over the mountains into northern Switzerland called the "Föhn," which is also the word they use for 'hair-dryer.' It's phonetically almost identical to the Arabic word for 'oven.' Wikipedia says they're not related, but either word - hair-dryer or oven - would have described the weather when I stepped out of the Central Bank of Jordan after my classes this evening.

Similar winds have swept over from the Negev before in the weeks I've been in Aqaba. They usually come in the evening, often carrying a dusty haze, and generally presage a miserable next day. Tonight's wind, however, was the most intense of this past month. In addition to being heavy with dust, and smotheringly hot, it also smelled exactly like the super-heated air that comes out of a hair-dryer!

Free Lunch!

Aqaba, Jordan

No, I can't debunk the old truism, "No such thing as a free lunch." I worked hard for these last three lunches ... but in the end I didn't shell out the cash for them.

Peter and Rebecca came to visit me this weekend, and to have a well-deserved mini 48 hour semi-vacation. I say "semi" because Peter was constantly on the phone with the company, having recently become the director of Bell Amman. He is in the middle of a serious culture change in the company, an opening up of dialogue between departments and with the CEO that I think will eliminate many of the most frustrating aspects of the business culture there that I was beginning to despise. It almost makes me sad to be leaving Bell Amman for this fellowship in Cairo. (In addition to already being very sad about losing my very nice salary, just when I was getting used to having money to save, and even a little money to throw around. So much for lasering away my leg hair...!)

Anyway, Peter was mostly writing a paper for his PhD on his "vacation," but Rebecca spent most of it on the beach with me, and we had 3 fabulous lunches in the various restaurants of the Intercontinental Hotel. It was so nice to have someone else to spend the weekend with. While I generally enjoy the company of me, myself and I, we do occasionally tire of each other and need to see other people....

The March of Time

Aqaba, Jordan

I've lived in Jordan for 4 of the past 6 years. I've reached an odd point in my life where I can't decide whether that's a long time or a short time. I do know that almost my only "real" jobs, in which I worked full time and wasn't also a full-time student, have been here in Jordan (with the exception of working full time as a substitute teacher while I waited for my Peace Corps assignment, which didn't feel like a "real" job). My whole adult, non-student life is here. Put in that perspective, it's no wonder I've got such mixed feelings about leaving Jordan. So much of the adult I've become was molded here.

In other ways, though, I'm ready for a new adventure. One of the things I noticed on my trip with Wade was how much many of my favorite places had changed, improved in ways that make me oddly nostalgic for their former "rustic" appeal. I've seen a lot of changes in Jordan's tourist industry in my time here.

The many times I visited King Herod's Castle at Macchareus, it was an entirely self-guided tour. Park your car and climb at your own risk. Now the parking lot has been fenced in and charges a fee, and is watched over by the Tourist Police. I appreciate the desire to earn money from this attraction, as well as the philosophy that when local people benefit economically from an archaeological site, they are more likely to be concerned about saving it. At the same time, the nearby Byzantine church ruins were locked up, it being Friday, and I wasn't able to show them to Wade.

About a month before my brother's rock-climbing tour of Jordan, they banned rock-climbing in Petra, at least in the easily accessible parts. The last time I went to Petra, you could walk on the portico of the Treasury, but not inside the dining chambers. When I took Wade to Petra, you couldn't even walk on the portico, but had to admire it from the sand down in front. When I took my parents to Petra, we climbed to the top of the Roman Theater and took pictures looking back across the wadi. Now they've cordoned off an area some distance in front of the theater, and you can only admire it from afar.

From A Rainy Day In Petra

I understand why, of course. I've heard my archaeologist friend Chris rail often enough about how the tourists are destroying the archaeological integrity of Petra and other sites around the kingdom. I've seen the appalling graffiti on the Treasury and other monuments. It's easy to see how just the rain has degraded the seats of the Roman Theater, and that human feet could only hurt it more. From a preservation perspective, it's absolutely essential that these steps be taken, and almost incomprehensible that they weren't taken much sooner. The dramatic increase in the number of tourists in the past 6 years only exacerbated the need for these changes.

From an Ammani evening

Most dramatic was the complete re-invention of Castle Hill in Amman, with a visitor's center, clearly marked pathways, scenic vistas and many more informative plaques. Equally dramatic was the new visitor's center in Wadi Rum, complete with entrance fees to the park and a big sign indicating standardized prices for all kinds of services for which tourists formerly either bargained or were fleeced. It's all far more informative and tourist-friendly, much more like the park at Bet She'an across the Valley. At the same time, I remember quite vividly how fun it was with Auntie Viv or my parents to imagine what each little building and chamber used to be used for. All that clear information sort of takes the fun out of it for me. I miss those days when Wesley could climb everything and photograph it from the top!

Inside the Middle East

Aqaba, Jordan

Aside from rather dubious statement that "Amman, Jordan, is one of the oldest cities in the Fertile Crescent," considering that it was a negligibly tiny village for most of history, this week's Inside the Middle East on CNN told the story of the West Amman that I'm really going to miss. Featuring Duinde Gallery and a fairly candid discussion with Jordan University students, I found it quite enjoyable.

I also liked the stories about the Muslim comic book series "The 99" and the Tuareg Saharan blues band Tinariwen.