So often here in Jordan it is tempting to focus on the bad. We're thousands of miles from home, in a culture different from ours, with rules and expectations we're still learning--yes, still--which are far removed from the rules and expectations of our own culture. In fact, just the idea that there are rules and expectations at all might be considered a difference in itself. So, as we have written before, it's easy to twist various cultural differences into cultural negatives. Different doesn't always mean bad, though; some things are just different, neither good nor bad, better or worse, than our own culture. Having said this, sometimes we do have bad days--bad days that seem to be related to the culture. And, to be honest, there are some aspects of the culture that we just don't like.
So I've said it; we don't love everything about Jordan, and the Middle East. Some things drive us crazy. Some things make us mad.
Some things we like though. And it is at this point that I feel obliged to give it up for Jordanians--and Middle Easterners in general--for an aspect of their culture that I think they beat my culture on hands down. Simply put, Middle Easterners value sleep more.
What does this mean? Let's start with a quick review of my American culture. In the United States, people talk reverently about what we call the "Protestant Work Ethic." This concept equates working hard with fulfilling ones calling from God, and even worldly success as a sign of salvation. Subconsciously, maybe--or maybe consciously--it places a spiritual value on the idea of work. It also, I think, makes us feel guilty about sleep. One of our most famous idioms is "the early bird gets the worm." In this case I suppose the worm represents our goals or our work, and the moral is that our success in reaching our goals or at work depends partly on our getting out of bed early. And, anecdotally, I think being a "morning person" and waking up early is regarded as a great virtue--especially by those who are morning people--as if a greater blessing was present in the early morning air than in the air at night.
Suffice to say, all of this is not the case in Middle Eastern culture. Middle Easterners (not everyone is an Arab) in general like to start their days a little bit later and end them later, and in between, maybe grab a nap. I have two examples from my life that illustrate this point.
Last week I was in Beirut for a work related training. Everyone involved was from the region, except for me and one other person. It started at ten. Ten! In the States when we have meetings like this, we start so much earlier that ten o'clock is nearly lunchtime. I've been to a few like that myself. Middle Easterners, though, value sleep, and I valued the chance to wake up casually and be wide awake for the meetings.
Also, a few months ago we had our annual meetings here at work. The meetings lasted for three days, and during the last few minutes of the final day when next year's meetings were being planned, the board chair stood up and announced that next year an afternoon snooze would be incorporated into the schedule. I can't remember exactly, but it was planned to be either between 2 and 4pm, or 2 and 4:30. Two hours to sleep! Americans, imagine trying to add a nap to the schedule of your next conference or training. I can't see it. Here, though, it's to be expected. According to the chair, the nap time was being added "because we are in the Middle East." I look forward to next year's meetings, and to being well rested for them.
So, Middle Easterners value sleep. It is fair to say, though, that this cultural characteristic may slowly be dying. Global corporations have brought to Jordan a napless 8 to 5, 6 or 7 workday, and many Jordanian businesses are starting to follow this example. Most everyone I know who runs their own business, though--like the barber down the street, the lamp salesman who just replaced a faulty table lamp we bought from him (who is actually open from 3pm until 1am) and the owners of any little corner store--start late, end late and try to take an extended break sometime in between. It's a cultural trait I value, and one I hope isn't replaced.
Saturday, March 06, 2010
Wednesday, March 03, 2010
The Face of an Assassin
In 1997 two members of the Israeli intelligence agency Mossad attempted to assassinate a prominent Hamas leader in broad daylight on a street in Amman by injecting him in the ear with a kind of poison. Tonight, I turned down an offer to portray one of them in a television documentary.
This strange story began a few days ago at Cozmo, a large western style grocery store in West Amman. On this day as I was standing in the checkout line, quietly minding my own business and getting ready to leave, I started to notice sort of in my peripheral vision the woman in front of me looking in my direction. But then I noticed that she wasn't just looking in my direction; she was looking at me--right at me. There was a man with her, and she started to make a small commotion, turning excitedly to him, then back to me, back to him, and back to me, all while chattering dramatically to him.
"Perhaps there's someone behind me that she knows," I thought. There was, however, only empty space there.
Then, she started walking towards me, with purpose. "What in the world is about to happen here?" I thought. It was a very suspenseful two seconds.
Now, in Jordan, strange women do not stare you down and then approach you, much less say what she said upon reaching me: "I have been looking all over for someone who looks just like you!"
What exactly my response was, I can't remember; I never was very smooth with the ladies. It's possible, though, that I said nothing. What could I say? Without hesitation, however, she proceeded to tell me that she was a journalist and was involved in the production of a documentary for Australian public television on the aforementioned 1997 assassination attempt, and that I resembled one of the Israeli agents who were involved. It was my shaggy face that had attracted her attention. "That's the beard I've been looking for," she said.
She wanted me to play the part of the assassin.
I wasn't going to say yes or no right there; I would think about it. So, we exchanged numbers, and I thought about it. At first it seemed very fun. Hilarious in fact. What a great story. Me on the set of some documentary, playing a figure who is part of an organization that is universally hated and reviled throughout the region. As far as an evil bogeyman is concerned, you cannot get any worse than Israeli Mossad. Well, except maybe George W. Bush. I had to do it.
But I had some misgivings. Beyond the fun factor, there were some issues that needed to be worked out. Materially, I wondered about compensation for my time. Existentially, I wondered if it was appropriate for me to be spending my time playing assassination. I wondered also what the angle of the documentary would be. Would it glorify Hamas? Let there be no doubt that I support the cause of justice for the Palestinian people. However, I don't support many of the means used by Hamas to achieve this goal. I couldn't lend my face to a production I might potentially disagree with. Then, there was the security issue. In a later phone conversation with this journalist she told me that the documentary might also be shown on Al-Jazeera. Now, contrary to what a lot of my fellow Americans might think, Al-Jazeera is a decent television network with some good shows, but if the program was indeed shown on it, that would mean a lot of people--a lot of people--would see me, on their televisions, playing the part of an Israeli Mossad agent, a figure who is, as I said, hated and reviled throughout the region, trying to kill someone a lot of people view as a kind of freedom fighter. And, as paranoid as it sounds, there was no guarantee in my mind that some crazy person might not see the documentary, see me on it, and not understand that it was a reenactment, then see me on the street at some later date and who knows what. After all, I have had taxi drivers months or even a year after taking me somewhere, tell me where and when they took me. I have, apparently, not just the face of a documentary assassin, but a memorable face as well. This concerned me, and it concerned everyone from whom I solicited advice on the issue too.
So, I said no. In fact, I called her from Cozmo--the supermarket where it all began--to tell her the news. In the end she offered me 50 bucks for my time. It was, after all, just public television. It wasn't really about the money, though; I did have security concerns, and before I agreed to participate I would have wanted to know exactly what I would be asked to do, and find out the angle of the show, perhaps even look at the script. I'm sure this would have been much more hassle than she thought was necessary for some guy she found in a supermarket, especially for what she said would be a total screen time of about 20 seconds.
Would my answer have been different with a more lucrative financial enticement? To be honest, I don't know. It's been an interesting question to think about. At what price would my security concerns dissipate? How much would I need to feel better about playing assassin, or to be a little less concerned about angle? She called me later during the time she said they would be filming, but I was busy and couldn't answer it. I called her back when I had time, but this time she didn't answer, and so far, she hasn't called back. Maybe she was calling to revise her offer; it was only public television, though, so I doubt it.
This strange story began a few days ago at Cozmo, a large western style grocery store in West Amman. On this day as I was standing in the checkout line, quietly minding my own business and getting ready to leave, I started to notice sort of in my peripheral vision the woman in front of me looking in my direction. But then I noticed that she wasn't just looking in my direction; she was looking at me--right at me. There was a man with her, and she started to make a small commotion, turning excitedly to him, then back to me, back to him, and back to me, all while chattering dramatically to him.
"Perhaps there's someone behind me that she knows," I thought. There was, however, only empty space there.
Then, she started walking towards me, with purpose. "What in the world is about to happen here?" I thought. It was a very suspenseful two seconds.
Now, in Jordan, strange women do not stare you down and then approach you, much less say what she said upon reaching me: "I have been looking all over for someone who looks just like you!"
What exactly my response was, I can't remember; I never was very smooth with the ladies. It's possible, though, that I said nothing. What could I say? Without hesitation, however, she proceeded to tell me that she was a journalist and was involved in the production of a documentary for Australian public television on the aforementioned 1997 assassination attempt, and that I resembled one of the Israeli agents who were involved. It was my shaggy face that had attracted her attention. "That's the beard I've been looking for," she said.
She wanted me to play the part of the assassin.
I wasn't going to say yes or no right there; I would think about it. So, we exchanged numbers, and I thought about it. At first it seemed very fun. Hilarious in fact. What a great story. Me on the set of some documentary, playing a figure who is part of an organization that is universally hated and reviled throughout the region. As far as an evil bogeyman is concerned, you cannot get any worse than Israeli Mossad. Well, except maybe George W. Bush. I had to do it.
But I had some misgivings. Beyond the fun factor, there were some issues that needed to be worked out. Materially, I wondered about compensation for my time. Existentially, I wondered if it was appropriate for me to be spending my time playing assassination. I wondered also what the angle of the documentary would be. Would it glorify Hamas? Let there be no doubt that I support the cause of justice for the Palestinian people. However, I don't support many of the means used by Hamas to achieve this goal. I couldn't lend my face to a production I might potentially disagree with. Then, there was the security issue. In a later phone conversation with this journalist she told me that the documentary might also be shown on Al-Jazeera. Now, contrary to what a lot of my fellow Americans might think, Al-Jazeera is a decent television network with some good shows, but if the program was indeed shown on it, that would mean a lot of people--a lot of people--would see me, on their televisions, playing the part of an Israeli Mossad agent, a figure who is, as I said, hated and reviled throughout the region, trying to kill someone a lot of people view as a kind of freedom fighter. And, as paranoid as it sounds, there was no guarantee in my mind that some crazy person might not see the documentary, see me on it, and not understand that it was a reenactment, then see me on the street at some later date and who knows what. After all, I have had taxi drivers months or even a year after taking me somewhere, tell me where and when they took me. I have, apparently, not just the face of a documentary assassin, but a memorable face as well. This concerned me, and it concerned everyone from whom I solicited advice on the issue too.
So, I said no. In fact, I called her from Cozmo--the supermarket where it all began--to tell her the news. In the end she offered me 50 bucks for my time. It was, after all, just public television. It wasn't really about the money, though; I did have security concerns, and before I agreed to participate I would have wanted to know exactly what I would be asked to do, and find out the angle of the show, perhaps even look at the script. I'm sure this would have been much more hassle than she thought was necessary for some guy she found in a supermarket, especially for what she said would be a total screen time of about 20 seconds.
Would my answer have been different with a more lucrative financial enticement? To be honest, I don't know. It's been an interesting question to think about. At what price would my security concerns dissipate? How much would I need to feel better about playing assassin, or to be a little less concerned about angle? She called me later during the time she said they would be filming, but I was busy and couldn't answer it. I called her back when I had time, but this time she didn't answer, and so far, she hasn't called back. Maybe she was calling to revise her offer; it was only public television, though, so I doubt it.
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