Day 4
Words learned: Masas (lollipop), Oosboo (finger), Kamr (moon), Najoom (stars)
Color of hijab: brown
# of Camels sighted: 2 camels
# of Dranks (tea/coffee): 16
Battery Power left in ipod: 36%
Taboos committed:
1) On out trip across town on foot with Sumaya, Aya, Sumaya's sister and baby Hamudeh for the purpose of a hospital "Mustashfa" check-up, we ran into some women on the road. Being a small town, they made motions to greet these women. Because I had my bag draped over my right shoulder and was holding hands with little Aya, I went in for the handshake with my left hand without thinking it through. This is Haram and we both knew it. The woman glared at me momentarily before parting ways. Thankfully, she wasn't part of the extended family.
1) On out trip across town on foot with Sumaya, Aya, Sumaya's sister and baby Hamudeh for the purpose of a hospital "Mustashfa" check-up, we ran into some women on the road. Being a small town, they made motions to greet these women. Because I had my bag draped over my right shoulder and was holding hands with little Aya, I went in for the handshake with my left hand without thinking it through. This is Haram and we both knew it. The woman glared at me momentarily before parting ways. Thankfully, she wasn't part of the extended family.
Every drink is sweeter in a honey way, not a splenda way. Overall, this experience is also very real (Does not contain high fructose corn syrup). The Badia is the honey where as Amman was the splenda. I was able to really taste the difference between the westernized modern city family and the traditional one. This is our solo soiree through the woods, our first bike ride without training wheels, our first day peeing in the big kid’s toilet (for me, quite literally). So I took my protein pills (digestive multi-vitamins) and put my helmet on (hijab).
Some differences between Badia Homestay and Amman homestay include:
1) The house is designed with use in mind: each function is separated (dining, sleeping, kitchen bathroom all have their own walls).
2) No maid. Sumaya runs this place by herself whilst nursing a 2-month old.
3) No one wears shoes indoors and most people walk barefoot outside (I spent a good deal of time tying my shoes this trip).
4) People make a point to use their right hand when it comes to food and greetings.
5) Lower income and a cultural apathy to material goods meant there was less technology and no car. 6) Fitting with the above point, TV was not as captivating, only 5 hrs rather than 18hrs a day.
7) Even less personal space. I share a room at home and I am rarely alone; yet I was completely part of the Musa Family's "communal identity". I wasn't even entitled to my own possessions anymore. Faleh took the book I was reading (Queen Noor's Memoir) right out of my hand to make his own assessment. But this is normal. They keep no secrets from each other.
2) No maid. Sumaya runs this place by herself whilst nursing a 2-month old.
3) No one wears shoes indoors and most people walk barefoot outside (I spent a good deal of time tying my shoes this trip).
4) People make a point to use their right hand when it comes to food and greetings.
5) Lower income and a cultural apathy to material goods meant there was less technology and no car. 6) Fitting with the above point, TV was not as captivating, only 5 hrs rather than 18hrs a day.
7) Even less personal space. I share a room at home and I am rarely alone; yet I was completely part of the Musa Family's "communal identity". I wasn't even entitled to my own possessions anymore. Faleh took the book I was reading (Queen Noor's Memoir) right out of my hand to make his own assessment. But this is normal. They keep no secrets from each other.
 |
| My family's humble house |
I was not proud of the fact that by day four I kept thinking of ways to escape and/or be less vulnerable. I saw the thob as a cage because it restricted my ability to move and consequently, my ability to express myself. Furthermore, the toilets in the ground put you in a vulnerable position as well. I kept thinking that if one of the family members walked in on me (a distinct possibility given that the door didn't close) that I would not be able to get up easily/gracefully from my position of disposing. I also might as well have been deaf and mute for the amount of language that went over my head due to general lack of knowledge and a thick Bedouin accent. In retrospect, the experience reminds me of participating in disability day in 7th grade.
I finally got my escape that night when I was able to articulate "I want stars"; "Bidi Najoom". The twenty minutes that followed involved lying on my back in the warm post-dusk hour among the olive trees tracing Leo, Taurus, Orion and Canis Major with my Right hand and loving life.
I finally got my escape that night when I was able to articulate "I want stars"; "Bidi Najoom". The twenty minutes that followed involved lying on my back in the warm post-dusk hour among the olive trees tracing Leo, Taurus, Orion and Canis Major with my Right hand and loving life.
I was shuffled around on my invisible leash to three different houses today which meant 3x the tea and 3x the family. I think the modern Bedouin's took their "nomadic culture" and settled down only to move tirelessly between each other's houses. This is what "semi-nomadic" must mean.
In one of the houses, I noticed a girl I had never seen before sitting on top of her feet on the floor. She had an overdeveloped upper body which struck me as strange and I guessed she might be mentally or physically disabled. When Faleh entered the room, he pointed at her without even looking at her and said "no walk” and then repeated it louder because he assumed I didn't understand the first time (by then I was used to this). She was crippled but she had on the largest smile of all and made considerable effort to talk to me. She had no wheel chair. Her older brother had to carry her to the car. I felt bad for her because she had to try so much harder to get the parent's attention and was often almost literally "shoved under the rug", ignored or forgotten. Nevertheless, I learned a lot from the children and her especially. We can compromise because they want attention and I just want to play the name-things-game in Arabic.
I think it's so strange that Faleh's brother married Sumaya's sister. I kept thinking about how close families are here. Feeling that it would be an inappropriate thing to ask Sumaya, I just sat there on the floor drinking tea and pondered arranged marriages. The tradition doesn't sit well with me because I our culture stresses the importance of freedom of choice and the American dream of high paying jobs, "two kids and three cars". We are rich in resources and poor in family and Beduoin families are just the opposite. Yet, in the south, many women value being married and having children over securing a career for themselves and arranged marriages aren't as much a thing of the past as many believe. This is how I see it:
In one of the houses, I noticed a girl I had never seen before sitting on top of her feet on the floor. She had an overdeveloped upper body which struck me as strange and I guessed she might be mentally or physically disabled. When Faleh entered the room, he pointed at her without even looking at her and said "no walk” and then repeated it louder because he assumed I didn't understand the first time (by then I was used to this). She was crippled but she had on the largest smile of all and made considerable effort to talk to me. She had no wheel chair. Her older brother had to carry her to the car. I felt bad for her because she had to try so much harder to get the parent's attention and was often almost literally "shoved under the rug", ignored or forgotten. Nevertheless, I learned a lot from the children and her especially. We can compromise because they want attention and I just want to play the name-things-game in Arabic.
I think it's so strange that Faleh's brother married Sumaya's sister. I kept thinking about how close families are here. Feeling that it would be an inappropriate thing to ask Sumaya, I just sat there on the floor drinking tea and pondered arranged marriages. The tradition doesn't sit well with me because I our culture stresses the importance of freedom of choice and the American dream of high paying jobs, "two kids and three cars". We are rich in resources and poor in family and Beduoin families are just the opposite. Yet, in the south, many women value being married and having children over securing a career for themselves and arranged marriages aren't as much a thing of the past as many believe. This is how I see it:
If you were a fruit (and assuming fruits can make conscious decisions), wouldn’t you like to decide when your ripe and then fall. Rather than be picked for the satisfaction of an outside party? I know I would like to know my life partner before securing the bonds of marriage
Fact #11: "Bedouins are mentioned in the bible as the children of Shem, son of Noah. Their tradition is based on “independence from material culture.”
Fact #12: Baby goats are cute (my family owns these above)
I thought as each day came that I could push the limits and expose a little bit more about myself literally and metaphorically. Yet as time passed, they were more comfortable imposing more limits and being more direct. We got to lie out in the sun this morning. Yet, it seemed pointless in a thob and hijab because only part of my hands and my facial features were exposed and a hijab tan would be worse than a shin guard tan any day. How do they get their daily vitamin D exposure? I ventured to take off my socks and bring my thob up to my mid-calf because the other women were barefoot. After about 10 minutes of lying like that, Sumaya motioned to me to cover my ankles again and I felt defeated and ashamed under the hot sun like a lobster turned red from the heat of a crock pot.Faleh approached me today and told me that I would be sleeping here tonight. That was a shocking and scary prospect because all I wanted to do was put distance between myself and that near-dead grandmother creature of his. She had good intentions and proceeded to stare at me until I finished my tea before demanding in a high-pitch banshee shriek that someone get me more. She was a life-sized raisin dressed in black thob and black robe with socks with holes in them and she scared the shit out of me. She sat there shaking and twitching and stammering to herself silently with eyes staring ahead into the afterworld. When she lay on the mat, she disappeared into a curled ball the same size as the bundled baby Hamudeh. I felt horrible about my own disgust every time I looked at her. It was a cycle of self-anger and situational uncomfortableness. She must have been pushing 90 and I attribute her "hunchbackedness" and disfiguration to many years of constant childbearing. All she had left in her was the Jordan sense of Hospitality. We ate Mansef that last night and this creature dug her shaky hand into the dish (the only one not using a spoon) and proceeded to shovel bits of food into her mouth before using the same hand to tear apart a chicken wing and place the select pieces in front of me. I ate on piece and then I just couldn't handle it. I excused myself from the dish with the proper amount of gratitude.
To this day, I am not sure if Host dad Faleh's excessive use of English imperatives is on purpose or the result of simplistic English training. Maybe he learned the imperative command form before the infinitive??
Either way he spoke to me in short commands like...
Wear this!
Eat this!
Wash this!
Help!
Come!
And my favorite...
Kangaroo this! (Which meant "please put this in your pocket")
Even though he was a crude fellow, he was committed to show me his Bedouin hospitality. I asked "wayn Syria?" (Where is Syria) enough times that he finally got his friend to drive me to the Syrian border.
Either way he spoke to me in short commands like...
Wear this!
Eat this!
Wash this!
Help!
Come!
And my favorite...
Kangaroo this! (Which meant "please put this in your pocket")
Even though he was a crude fellow, he was committed to show me his Bedouin hospitality. I asked "wayn Syria?" (Where is Syria) enough times that he finally got his friend to drive me to the Syrian border.
 |
| This is SYRIA. That abode ahead is border control. |
Fact #13: I don’t like milk in my tea, even goat’s milk
Fact #14: I would never be able to work at a nursing home.
Fact #15: Ayat and Aya’s hand-knitted dresses were made from the same stitching that my own childhood blanket and still-current pillow is made from.
Fact #15: Ayat and Aya’s hand-knitted dresses were made from the same stitching that my own childhood blanket and still-current pillow is made from.
Day 5
Words learned: Jida (grandmother), Daraja (bike)
Color of hijab: grey
# of Camels sighted: 0
# of Dranks (tea/coffee): 3
Battery Power left in ipod: 32%
Taboos committed:
1) I could not bring myself to properly say goodbye to Faleh's frightening grandmother creature even though I slept at her house the last night.
1) I could not bring myself to properly say goodbye to Faleh's frightening grandmother creature even though I slept at her house the last night.
 |
| My sisters Aya and Ayat and me. |
There are many similarities between Native American and Bedouin culture. They both sit "Indian style", have cultural tattoos, have a history of herding animals, living in tents and stressing the community. Yet Indians often wore close to nothing and Bedouin males and females dress modestly as the Hadith and Quran indicate.
Most of the time I did feel helpless, restless and inadequate, not helped by the unfamiliar constricting clothing. Nevertheless, I had some memorable, and great times. I also answered many questions regarding Jordanian culture. I better understand...
1) emphasis on family
2) the origin of Jordanian food
3) the sense of communal identity
4) the customs
5) the politics
6) their relationship with technology
I’m ultimately glad that my jaunts with the shaky death reaper and people who have plus/minus 5 teeth are over but I've got to say: thank goodness that actions speak louder than words. My greatest memories will include playing marbles with Abdullah, leading my mother into the cave, getting to the top of the mountain with my young guide, skipping through the desert, playing soccer against some Uncles, playing "hand" with Ayat, pushing Aya on the tricycle, and smiling every other moment to embellish my gratitude.
Ultimately, I am glad I went if only to deepen my understanding of a culture. Those of us who "survived" now have what one of my friends referred to as "the Badia Bond". We've all sat on floor contemplating philosophy in our own minds for hours on end drinking tea. Now Andy Dufresne isn't the only person to crawl through shit and come out clean on the other side. (All right, that was a hyperbole). This shared experience brings our program, the "SIT Tribe" closer together.
 |
| Look's like an adobe house to me. |
1) emphasis on family
2) the origin of Jordanian food
3) the sense of communal identity
4) the customs
5) the politics
6) their relationship with technology
I’m ultimately glad that my jaunts with the shaky death reaper and people who have plus/minus 5 teeth are over but I've got to say: thank goodness that actions speak louder than words. My greatest memories will include playing marbles with Abdullah, leading my mother into the cave, getting to the top of the mountain with my young guide, skipping through the desert, playing soccer against some Uncles, playing "hand" with Ayat, pushing Aya on the tricycle, and smiling every other moment to embellish my gratitude.
 |
| My favorite picture. The love between the extended family is visible. |
Ultimately, I am glad I went if only to deepen my understanding of a culture. Those of us who "survived" now have what one of my friends referred to as "the Badia Bond". We've all sat on floor contemplating philosophy in our own minds for hours on end drinking tea. Now Andy Dufresne isn't the only person to crawl through shit and come out clean on the other side. (All right, that was a hyperbole). This shared experience brings our program, the "SIT Tribe" closer together.
you've really made the grade
ReplyDeleteAnd the papers want to know whose shirts you wear?