mishmish

Bedouins of Petra

2012-01-02T23:05:00.000+02:00

We've been to Petra five or six times, and could go many more times too. Click here to watch a short report CNN did recently about one of the Bedouin families that still live in and around its vicinity.

Jews and Muslims, Together, Praying for Rain

2011-06-11T00:56:00.000+03:00

Last summer was long and hot, not to mention memorable for the extreme water shortages we dealt with for the entire time. Then, when the winter rainy season came--such as it is in Jordan--and it began with very limited precipitation, special times of prayer for rain were organized across the country. The situation was similarly dire across the river in Israel/Palestine, and special times of prayer for rain were organized there too. I mention all this because I came across this photo from last November online today. It features Muslims and Jews praying for rain--together--in a village outside of Bethlehem. And it made me smile. Yes, there is definitely a lot of anger and hatred in the region, but many people are willing to come together and live peacefully with those they are supposed to hate; enmity is not the end of the story. I know this first hand, but it's good to be reminded.

Jordanian Shade

2011-06-04T23:46:00.000+03:00

This was written several years ago, but in honor of summer finally hitting Minnesota, we thought we'd post it again, with a few changes.

All summer here in Amman the temperature has hovered around 90 degrees with occasional forays into the 100s. It is hot, dry and dusty, and many people--if they can--avoid the mid-day heat and simply stay inside. However, because the humidity is not always very high, if you are outside, it is possible to get a decent respite from the heat by walking or resting under the shade of a building, a tree--really, whatever you can find. Yes, it is hot, but finding that elusive shade really can make a big difference in your level of comfort.

Of course many of the stories in the Bible are set in a climate like this, and in my mind the Jordanian heat brings those passages to life. In Genesis, for example, one story has Abraham sitting in his tent "in the heat of the day." When three men come to visit him, he tells them to rest under a tree. These are small details, but because of our time in Jordan I can imagine the afternoon heat experienced by Abraham, as well as the good shade from the heat that the tent and the tree would provide. Also, there is the story of Jonah, who after preaching to the people of Nineveh--a city in what is now northern Iraq, not all that far from us here--left and built himself a little shelter outside the city. It was apparently quite hot, so God raised up a bush to provide shade for Jonah, and to "save him from his discomfort." The next day, though, God caused the bush to die, and Jonah lost his shade. As a result, he became so hot and frustrated that he grew "faint and asked that he might die." Jonah was so hot that he lost his will to live.

Now, I've never been so hot that I wished I were dead, but again, because of our time in Jordan I can imagine how Jonah felt. I think I've felt like that while riding on a windowless bus in the Jordan Valley, the temperature outside of over 100 degrees causing those of us inside to bake, my khaki pants--not shorts, because men must dress modestly too--clinging to the sweat on my legs. I think I've felt like that while walking near the Jordan River, the hot breeze beating down on us like we had just opened a hot oven and all the mighty power of the sun seemingly focused on the straight, naked, part in my hair on the top of my head. I know I've felt like that while trudging Amman for a taxi in the midday summer heat: the streets choked with cars and traffic barely moving, exhaust fumes combining with dust to choke away what's left of the "fresh" air there, a backpack and long pants--modesty, again--serving to cover my body in a sweaty film of claustrophobia, and every taxi maddeningly occupied. Through these--and other--experiences, I can imagine why Jonah was so upset that he lost his shade.

So, as I said, shade can make a big difference, and it is this shade--a shade that can save you from devastating heat--that is good to think about when looking at the imagery used in other parts of the Bible. For instance, Psalm 121 calls God "your shade at your right hand," and Isaiah 25 calls God "a shade from the heat." When I read this, I remember how the other day--when I was outside walking in the heat of the day--I moved immediately into the shadow of a building as soon as I noticed it, how I sought the shade from the heat it would give me. Shade works, and I suppose it is my quick jump into this shade in the heat of a summer day that the various biblical writers had in mind when they referred to God as shade. Like the building, like Jonah's bush, like Abraham's tent, God makes the heat we experience more bearable.

Thoughts on the Revolution

2011-04-19T18:11:00.000+03:00

In the time since our last post, we left Jordan to spend Christmas back in Minnesota, then spent a month in Vancouver, Canada visiting family there, then returned to Minnesota, where we will be for several more months before resuming our lives in Jordan. Also in the time since that last post--perhaps you've heard--some major changes have taken place in the region we call home. The governments of Tunisia and Egypt have fallen, protesters continue to march for change in Bahrain, Yemen, Syria and even Jordan and a civil war rages in Libya. No matter how the situations in these countries play out, the Middle East we return to will be much different than the one we left.

And so, since everyone here asks me what I think about all this... here is what I think.

On February 11, 2011, at around six o'clock in the evening in Egpyt, Egyptian Vice-President Omar Suleiman announced the resignation of President Hosni Mubarak after 18 days of massive protests, ending his nearly 30 years of iron-fisted control over the country. Soon after, hundreds of thousands of people began ecstatically celebrating on the streets of Cairo, Alexandria and other cities across Egypt. At around the same time, at about ten o'clock in the morning in Minneapolis, I was parking my car on the street near our old apartment, on my way to a favorite coffee shop, having just heard the news of Mubarak's resignation on NPR. Soon after, I was still in the car. Instead of stepping out to go drink coffee, I stayed and listened, dumbfounded because just the day before Mubarak said he was staying, stunned that this Middle Eastern institution was gone, and happy. Happy for the Egyptians I knew whose futures suddenly seemed ripe with possibility, happy because living in Jordan helped me to envision as I sat there the joy of throngs of smiling Arabs, not just in Egypt, but around the region. Happy because the people had won, and won with class.

I have discovered since then, though, that not everyone here in America is so happy about all of this. Far from being a cause for celebration, the fall of Mubarak--and the many other similar revolts in the region--have been a cause of fear and consternation in some corners. Oh, I've seen some reports which conveyed what I thought was an appropriate sense of the historic and life changing nature of these revolts--especially during the height of the situation in Egypt--but I also saw many other reports that seemed to view them as almost entirely negative. Perhaps naively, this has surprised--and disappointed--me.

On the extreme end of this negativity is what can only be called the "Doomsday Crowd." These people look at what has happened in the region and see not potentially changed lives, but literally world-ending danger. One example of these doomsdayers is Dennis Prager, a conservative radio personality who listed what he called "eight good reasons" for pessimism regarding the revolution in Egypt. These included the possibility of a worse dictator or regime taking Mubarak's place, the historical lack of political and economic freedom in Egypt and the potential of Egypt's increased friendship with Iran. Another is soon to be former Fox News personality Glenn Beck, who spent weeks detailing on his chalkboards how he believed the revolutions were part of a coordinated, global plot of various nefarious left-wing organizations to take over the world. Conservative radio host Rush Limbaugh believed the same, saying that the protests in Egypt were the result of something called "classic community organizing." "And, folks, they're all leftists. They're feminists. They're avowed socialist, leftist, communists, environmentalists," he said. "I don't believe that this is just spontaneity. I think this is classic. This is rent-a-mob. I don't doubt that there are genuine grievances felt by some of the people in this group, but this is not a spontaneous, gee, nobody knew this was coming moment. This is the result of organizing. This is just classic community organizing in Egypt." If you click on the link above, you'll see that he also expressed anger towards some in the media for reporting with amazement that an amazing event had just taken place. I remember listening to it--I was in the car again--and being taken aback at the level of his anger. Finally, there is Fox News host Sean Hannity, who feared the revolt in Egypt may be the beginning of World War III. Doomsday was at hand.

On the kinder, gentler side of this negativity--but negative nonetheless--is what could be called the "What It Means For America" crowd. These kinds of reports again focused not on the potential for positive change for people in Egypt, but instead on the potential for negative change for people in the United States. In other words, these reports turned a story ostensibly about Egyptians and turned it instead into a story about Americans. For example, a headline from CBS Money Watch put the issue bluntly: "What the Egyptian Protests Mean for Your Money." According to Carla Fried, author of the article, the situation in Egypt had caused U.S. investors to ask the "logical question" of "what impact it all might have on their financial lives." Being the Middle East, there were also, of course, many stories having to do with the impact of the revolutions on American gas prices. This angle is captured succinctly in the headline of a story written by Darren Goode of politico.com: "Egypt's Unrest Sparks Fears About Oil."

Another example of the What It Means For America mentality is the concern that the United States would lose a great ally in Mubarak, with the potential that his replacement wouldn't be so friendly to American interests. An article in USA Today asked "Could the U.S. lose a critical ally in the Middle East?" A release by Daniel L. Byman, Senior Fellow at the Brookings Institution think tank on the risks of democracy in Egypt framed the issue with striking honesty: "while deposing Mubarak is clearly what is best for the Egyptian people," he said, "for the United States it is far more problematic." In the days before Mubarak resigned, Limbaugh actually hoped that he would be able to withstand the calls for change. "We need to be rooting for Mubarak," he said, "if you are concerned about U.S. national interests." In what is to me a truly confusing angle to take on this situation, some reporting showed concern that the revolts would spread to other nations in the region. This would, I guess, be the opposite of the reporting that Limbaugh decried above. The same above USA Today article, for instance, asked if there was a risk "that revolt in Egypt will spread to Persian Gulf countries." A risk for who? Finally, numerous reports focused on what the revolt in Egypt meant for Israel--an important question for U.S. interests because we are such strong allies. No link is necessary here; just Google "Egypt, Israel, Unrest" for links as numerous as the sand of the sea.

Now, it's not as if I believe that Egypt is going to magically transform into a beautiful democracy by next week, next year or even five years from now. There will be difficulties, there will be challenges, no doubt; people may suffer in the process. It is also possible that some of the problems raised by the Doomsdayers may come to pass. It may happen, for instance, that a leader worse than Mubarak comes to power. It may happen that all these changes bring only chaos. I am not denying that whatever happens next in Egypt--or elsewhere in the region--could be rough. What I am denying, though, is the placement of these revolts within some sort of sinister plot led by the kinds of groups that the Doomsdayers just happen to despise. I am also denying that theses revolts will bring only chaos, as if that is the only possible result. I am hopeful they bring the changes that Egyptians and others in the region are longing for. Plus, I've been to Egypt and live next door in Jordan; from my experience, a revolution led by environmentalists and feminists wouldn't get very far. Rush is right about one thing, though; ousting Mubarak did take some organizing. However, my major problem with the Doomsdayers is that they just seem so mad about it all.

As far as the What It Means For America crowd is concerned, those kinds of reports just seem to me to be so self-centered. Egyptians are trying to win their freedom? What about my money? What about gas prices? What about our American interests? How will it affect me? How will my life be changed? These concerns turn the focus from Egyptians to us, and make us forget what is really at stake. Along with the Doomsdayers, they make us afraid.

As I said, though, I'm happy. Mubarak ruled his country with an iron fist for 30 years, violently suppressing dissent and free speech, casually allowing corruption to overtake government and society and enriching his pockets. And to top it off, the country is dirt poor; 40 percent of Egyptians live on two dollars or less per day. He was a tyrant, disallowing basic freedoms and opportunities in order to maintain his grip on power, in order to maintain stability. But the people got rid of him. They got rid of Tunisia's corrupt president too, and hardly a shot was fired in either case.

Let's let these people have their moment. Let's try to be happy for them. It's not about our politics or our fears; it's about them. It's about their freedom. I am not afraid. I invite you not to be too.

Election Day

2010-11-09T17:11:00.000+02:00

It's election day in Jordan today. Posters and signs are plastered all over Amman, advocating for the various candidates. The pictures below are of Tariq Sami Khoury--a candidate for one of the seats in the legislature reserved for Christians--who has been staring up at us from the street for several weeks now.

Can't Go Home

2010-08-01T00:28:00.004+03:00

*Some friends of mine recently celebrated the 20th anniversary of their graduation from high school. My 20 year reunion is next year, which, thousands of miles away, got me thinking about the subject of going home.

I am from a small town in central Minnesota. I was not born there; I was born in Illinois. However, my parents are both from Minnesota, and their parents are from Minnesota. My parents just happened to move to Illinois before I was born for my dad's job, and then they moved back to Minnesota when I was three. After a few months in an apartment in town, we built and moved into a house in the country at the end of a mile-long dirt road, where I spent all of my childhood, and where my parents still live to this day.

While this house was still being built, I met a boy a year older than me who would be my friend all throughout my youth, and soon met two other boys around my age who would be long term friends too. We spent our daylight hours riding our bikes back and forth on the dirt road, running through the woods, climbing trees, sledding in the winter, eating popcorn, watching Scooby-Doo on TV and playing football and baseball in our big, green yards. Although we each eventually also acquired a group of friends in our own grade, when we got older we stayed friends, and sang in choirs, ran track, hung out at church youth group, occasionally went to movies and even got into a minor car accident or two, one of which was on a different dirt road.

It was in junior high that I first made a few of these other friends. For instance, on the first day of seventh grade art class, the boy I was assigned to share a desk with turned to me out of the absolute clear blue and asked--I'm not sure what was going through his head at the time--if I had seen the 1983 NCAA Basketball Championship Game between North Carolina State and the University of Houston. I had. He would become my best friend growing up, and we spent our time watching basketball, playing basketball, hanging out in his basement, playing tennis all day in the heat of the summer, going to a Twins game instead of Prom and running, running, running. We went our separate ways after graduation, but we remained friends, visiting each other at our colleges, playing and watching more basketball and doing shameful things like attending a Bryan Adams concert.

There wasn't much to do in my small town. There was a dilapidated movie theater of sorts where I remember seeing a Billy Graham movie once, which should tell you all you need to know about the number of new releases that came to town. I went cruising once or twice with some friends, but even that required going to the next town over, as our town only had one stoplight (there are more now). There was the occasional party with the usual underage drinking fiascoes, but I wasn't much interested in that. I mostly spent my time running, especially my last two or so years of high school.

Growing up, I saw the same people day in and day out. You could find most of the kids in my kindergarten class picture in my high school yearbook too. The adults at church I thought were so old--Sunday School teachers, friends of my parents--are still there, and not altogether that old. Some of them came to my wedding--12 years ago today--which was held in the back yard of my parents' country house, the same house we moved into when I was three, the same house where my parents still live.

It would be a shame if I couldn't visit my home town again.

And this, to me, is the crux of the matter in the Palestinian/Israeli conflict: so many people can't go home.

Like the recently retired shop owner up the street from our apartment. At the same age as I was running around in the woods and watching Scooby-Doo, he was running from his home in Jerusalem, dodging explosions and making his way to Amman with his family. He has never been back. Or, like the guy I know who runs a pool hall here. As I left my hometown and went off to college, he also left his--I can't remember which one--to cross the Jordan River and study at the University of Jordan. Unfortunately for him, though, that was in 1967, and the Six-day war broke out soon after he left. He has never been back.

These are just two stories, of hundreds of thousands more, and if you find yourself on the fence on this issue, or unwilling to voice anything but support for Israel, you should think about the people who can't go home. There are around 700,000 from the 1948 Arab-Israeli War and around 300,000 from the 1967 Six-Day War, not to mention their descendants. Because like me, these are people who were raised in a place, made friends in a place and went to school in a place. They ran around the historic, cobble-stoned streets of Jerusalem, played in the waves on the beaches of Jaffa and tended sheep on the lush grass of the Galilee. They saw the same shopkeepers day in, and day out. I even bet some of them, like me, got married at the house they grew up in. Sure, the political leaders of the Palestinians may not be angels, but neither are the Israelis. And once you strip away the political shenanigans and the emotional response to the failed and depraved tactics of suicide bombings and katyusha rockets, as well as the reflexive response by so many in my country to support Israel no matter what the situation, and get to the core of the issue, what you find are people who were forced out of their homes or who fled in fear--villages sometimes razed in the process--and who now can't go back.

I live a long way from my home town right now. I would miss it, though, if I couldn't go back. I would be angry if someone else lived in my home there, after taking it from me. I would be sad that all I had left were the memories. Wouldn't you be?

Wow, Water is Great

2010-07-28T21:24:00.002+03:00

Water is scarce in Jordan. In fact, I just read today that Jordan is the fourth most water poor country in the world. It's the complete opposite of where we come from in the Land of 10,000 Lakes, where we can shower morning and night, wash the tiniest load of laundry whenever we want, leave the water running while we brush our teeth or shave, hold car-washing fundraisers and run through sprinklers all summer. There, the water flows, well, like water. Here in Amman, though, it does not; it flows like mud. As opposed to a constant supply of water that seemingly will never run dry, most people have a water tank on the roof of their building which holds their weekly supply of water. These tanks are filled once each week when the government turns on the tap, and when the tap is turned off, that is your water for the week. In our neighborhood, this happens on Wednesday.

So, on Wednesdays everyone does all their water intensive projects, while the water is coming in and filling their tank: laundry, all types of cleaning, gardening, maybe an extra long shower. We even flush our toilets more often. Because of this, water day is visibly different from all the other days of the week, with color coordinated laundry flying from all the area rooftops, and people outside hosing down their sidewalk and watering their gardens, all while a stream of water runs maddeningly down the sides of the buildings and down the street, a product of water pipes and tanks riddled with holes. Water day is also audibly different than any other day, with the day-long drain of water sloshing into the metal tanks, the rain-like splashing sound of all the first floor gardens being watered and just the general sound of everyone using water all around us. Below are some of the water tanks on the roof of our building:

Because water is so scarce here--and because we have to work with a weekly allotment of it--from Wednesday to Wednesday we must be careful to conserve. Also, I like to keep an eye on our levels, and every few days I trudge up to the roof to check the progress of our tanks. We've only actually run out of water a handful of times, like when we've had guests. We also have occasionally had problems with rocks in the pipes--thus preventing our water from coming in--and there have been a few times when various problems at the local water station have affected water delivery for the whole neighborhood.

This latter problem happened just recently. Usually on Wednesdays I also like to head up to the roof in the morning to see if the water is coming in, to make sure we can perform our weekly water tasks. This particular Wednesday, though, I did not; I got complacent. Instead, I sauntered up in the early evening after work to discover everyone's water day worst nightmare: a nearly empty tank and a tiny trickle of water dripping in. Our water day was over.

We stopped doing our laundry and just let our tanks fill up. By the time the tap was turned off a few hours later, we had about a third of a tank and the whole week in front of us. So, we spent that week with water conservation dominating our thoughts. We took fewer showers (I got one, maybe two). While showering, we soaped our bodies with the water turned off (just like with shaving, you don't really need the water on the whole time!). We flushed the toilets less. When we did use the faucets, we were aggressive about turning them off quickly. And--in a move that worked out well for me--towards the end of that week, we let the dishes go ("sorry, honey, we just don't have enough water").

In the end, we made it to the next Wednesday, with some sediment in the bottom of our tanks to spare. Below are two pictures of what we had left. As you will see, the water does really flow like mud.

Water is scarce in Jordan, and water was scarce in our house that week. Admittedly, having so little of it for that short time was a little stressful. As a result, when the water came rushing through early the next Wednesday morning as it normally does, relief came rushing through as well. Wow, water is great.

Wadi Zarqa Ma'in

2010-05-21T16:15:00.010+03:00

Last week I went hiking in Wadi Zarqa Ma'in (wadi means valley in Arabic), which is one of a series of cavernous valleys in the mountains just to the east of the Jordan Valley and the Dead Sea, many with streams that lead directly into the Dead Sea. Our journey started on a bleak, dusty plateau, before descending into the circuitous path of the valley, where we followed a stream cut through the mountain past enormous boulders, one or two rock slides, pools up to my chin, the occasional palm tree and two abseils off of cliffs about 50 meters high, finishing at Hammamat Ma'in, a famous hot spring just above the Dead Sea popular with tourists and Jordanians alike. Below are some pictures from the day.

Near the beginning of our hike.

The first abseil. There's a waterfall on the left.

Me going down.

Behind the waterfall.

Looking out towards the Dead Sea above our hiking trail.

The second abseil.

Me going down.

The pool at the bottom.

Another pool near the end of the hike

The hot springs of Hammamat Ma'in, where our hike ended.

Blue Power

2010-05-13T21:06:00.016+03:00

Although I thought the movie Avatar was utterly boring, I guess somebody liked it; I hear it made a fair amount of money at the box office. People love good guy/bad guy stories. I wonder, though, how many people who saw it are aware that it mirrors so many actual events from history, or even current events today. I, for instance, immediately thought of the similarities between the plot--such as it was--and the experience of Native Americans in the United States. Others I talked to thought of European colonization in Africa. These are past events. For many people here, though, the movie spoke to a current event: the Israeli/Palestinian conflict. To them, the blue Na'vi people represented the Palestinians, and the cartoonishly evil marines or contractors--whatever they were--represented the Israeli army.

I was reminded of this connection that some people here in the region made to the movie today when I saw the below pictures, from the British Sunday Telegraph. In them, some protesters in a village near Ramallah are dressed up like the blue Na'vi people, as part of a weekly protest against the separation wall the Israeli government has built. The pictures are from February, so it's old news, but I thought it interesting enough to pass along. I just put a few of the pictures below; to see the rest, click here.

Lies, Lies, Lies

2010-04-17T21:59:00.021+03:00

A few days ago a friend was over and gave us some startling news: Jordan's King Abdullah said he regretted his father's 1994 decision to make peace with Israel. He had made the announcement, she said, in a Wall Street Journal Article, which was summarized in an article emailed to her from a friend from some news outlet called "Israel Today." Such news was shocking to me, as it went against what I believe is the king's overall desire for peace and stability in the region, and represented a totally new direction in his sentiment. In fact, I didn't really believe it, so I asked to see the Israel Today Article. So, here it is, pasted below, complete with the headline, "Jordan's King Abdullah Regrets Peace with Israel."

Headline News
Tuesday, April 06, 2010 Israel Today Staff

Jordan's King Abdullah regrets peace with Israel

Jordan's King Abdullah II, widely regarded as the most moderate of Arab leaders, indicated in an interview with The Wall Street Journal published on Tuesday that he regrets his father's decision to make peace with Israel. "Our relationship with Israel is at an all-bottom low. It hasn't been as bad as it is today and as tense as it is today," said Abdullah.

He noted that Jordanians do not see any real tangible benefit from the peace with Israel: "There is no real economic relationship between Jordan and Israel. So economically we were better off in trade and in movement before my father signed the peace treaty."

What Abdullah didn't mention was that according to the peace treaty between the two nations, Israel provides Jordan with a large portion of its annual water needs, and that many Israelis do business in Jordan, even if their Jordanian counterparts choose not to reciprocate.

Abdullah went on to say that recent tension over Jewish building in Jerusalem is highly relevant to Jordan, since it is still recognized as the custodian of Muslim and many Christian holy sites there. However, Abdullah again left the picture incomplete, failing to note that when his country illegally occupied Jerusalem from 1948-1967, it summarily denied Jews and often Christians access to their holy sites.

Abdullah concluded by warning Israel that its future would be at stake if it did not make peace on Arab terms in the very near future. Such saber-rattling from a leader considered Israel's best friend in the Arab world is further evidence of the increasing radicalization of the region, even its more "moderate" elements.

Now, there are a lot of things one could say about this article, but let's start with the most obvious: King Abdullah never said he "regretted" his father's decision to make peace with Israel. He said the relationship between Jordan and Israel is at an all-time low, and he said that Jordanians don't see any economic benefits as a result of the treaty. Regret, though, never entered the conversation. The headline, and the conclusion drawn by the Israel Today staff, is false.

Now let's skip to the last paragraph. Here the staff at Israel Today reports that the king said Israel's "future would be at stake" unless it made "peace on Arab terms", said he was "saber-rattling" and becoming more radical. The paragraph has an ominous feel to it, and Abdullah is portrayed as threatening the very existence of Israel. There's one problem, though: the article provides no proof that he actually said these things. And, after reading the original Wall Street Journal article, I discovered why: he didn't say them. What he did say--when asked the question, "What is your message when you meet with the Israelis?"--was this: "I think the long-term future of Israel is in jeopardy unless we solve our problems." He explained that 57 countries still do not recognize Israel, and that a solution to the Palestinian issue would facilitate recognition, and thus give Israel more stability. He also said that Israel will only find it more difficult to negotiate a solution in a decade or so, when--because of birth rates--the Arab-Israeli population will constitute half of the population of Israel, meaning Israel will no longer be able to negotiate from the position of relative strength that it does now. Nowhere in the original article, though, does the king make any kind of insistence that Israel make peace "on Arab terms," and nowhere does he do anything remotely close to "saber-rattling". In fact, as seen in the above quotation, he referred to "we" solving "our problems."

What he did say in the original article--although not mentioned in the Israel Today recap--was this:

"The extremists around are saying, hey look, nothing is happening, dialogue does not work, communicating with the Israelis is not the way to go forward, the idea of resistance, the spread of fear and hatred is the message they put forward, is the way to go. Even in the Arab Summit in Libya, you had to be careful where some countries were hinting, how long are we going to give you moderates a chance to pursue peace. Because really, look everybody, their way of doing it is not right."

Far from running down the road to radicalism, he was speaking against and warning about those who wanted to forgo a more peaceful peace process. What was asserted about the king by Israel Today was nowhere near what he actually said. It was, instead, lies, lies, lies.

So what does all this matter? Why am I writing about this? According to the Israel Today website, Israel Today exists to provide a "biblical perspective" to Israel based news. Also, a quick Google search revealed that scores of similarly focused websites, blogs and news outlets picked up this story, and ran it whole. I am writing this because the authors are Christians, and they are lying. And their lies are being picked up and swallowed by other Christians. This may sound harsh, but that is what this is. It is lying. As a Christian myself, I find it maddening. It is maddening to me when ideology trumps Christian faithfulness. Unfortunately, if you pay attention to politics at all, you know that this is far from the only example of Christians lying, other Christians swallowing the lie and still other Christians defending the lie.

The situation between the Israelis and Palestinians is complex and tragic. Many people have died, many more have lost their homes and livelihoods, and no one on either side is living the life they could be living as the result of the absence of peace. Telling lies is not helping anyone.

Nothing Wrong with Sleep

2010-03-06T10:59:00.034+02:00

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.

The Face of an Assassin

2010-03-03T21:54:00.029+02:00

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.

Taxi Talk

2010-02-12T02:23:00.012+02:00

I ride in a taxi nearly every day, and sometimes several times each day. Because I do this so often, it's always tempting to get in, announce my destination, and then turn my head towards the window, forgetting about the driver on my left and letting my mind melt away into the blur of white buildings on my right. Sometimes you just feel like zoning out. However, some time ago I made it my goal to engage all my drivers. I decided I would at least greet them and ask them how they were doing; if they wanted, they could then continue talking to me. If not, I would leave them alone. Inevitably, this is our conversation.

"Hello. How are you?
"Praise be to God... And how are you?"
"Good. Praise be to God."

Sometimes, this is it, and the driver just drives, and I start staring out the window. More often than not, though, he reciprocates.

"You speak Arabic?"
"A little. I try."
"You try? No, you speak very well." (Or, if he's given to extreme hyperbole: "You try? No, you speak better than me!")
"Thank you." This is said simultaneously with a sheepish grin, because I really don't speak that well.

Of course by this point the driver's interest is usually quite piqued.

"Where are you from?"
"I'm from America." (Or, if I'm feeling playful: "Where do you think I'm from?" At which point, the driver guesses Germany, Sweden, France, England, Australia, Russia, Switzerland, but almost never America. This means, I guess, that I don't "look" American; sometimes, this is just as well. And yes, I have a few times actually made them run through a litany of countries like that.)
"Ah, America... Texas?" (Or, instead of this simple guess of home state, a statement or expression of wistful envy. You can read about this in a previous post here.)
"No, Minnesota." This answer is followed by an immediate expression of great confusion on the driver's face or a rapid shaking of his head--as if he was knocking the cobwebs out--calling for some clarification.
"It's in the north, on the border with Canada."
"Oh, on the border with Canada."

And then, unavoidably, something it seems everyone I've ever met in Jordan can say.

"My brother/sister/father/mother/cousin/aunt/uncle lives in Texas/California/Chicago/Florida/New York."
"Oh. Have you visited?"
"No. I want to, but getting a visa is very difficult." Occasionally, they tell me they applied for a visa, paid their nonrefundable application fee, and were denied. Sometimes I do hear they have visited.
"Yes. It's very difficult these days." Post September 11, that is.

At this point usually the ride is over. But I always want to know if they are of Palestinian or Jordanian origin, because--either way--I want to hear their story. So, if I have time, I begin a new query.

"Are you Palestinian?" This is the best alternative I can think of to "where are you from," since they are, of course, from Jordan, and most likely they're Palestinian anyway. The usual answer is:
"Yes. I am Palestinian. But I am Jordanian. I have Jordanian citizenship." Always this explanatory note is added, as if attesting to their citizenship status. I do know Palestinians feel defensive about their citizenship from time to time around non-Palestinian Jordanians.
"Oh I know. But were you born here?"
"Yes. I was born here."
"Where is your family from?"
"They are from Jerusalem/Hebron/Jaffa/Haifa/Tulkaram/Ramallah/." (Or any number of small villages near those places.)
"Oh. Have you visited there?"
"No. I can't. It's not allowed." (I don't know exactly what the policy is, but I've heard over and over from drivers that they're not allowed by the Israelis to enter the West Bank. It might have something to do with being men of a certain age.)
"Oh."

And with that, the ride is definitely over. Sometimes they ask me how long I've been in Jordan, where I work, or how I like Jordan. Sometimes other topics come up. Yesterday a driver asked me if I liked Clinton, Bush or Obama, a topic that was, of course, much more popular a year or so ago. However, the preceding represents a standard conversation I have with taxi drivers on an almost daily basis. It's a conversation that, despite its repetitiveness, never gets old, because although the words may be the same, the people uttering them aren't.

Our view today

2010-01-19T19:55:00.002+02:00

Unlucky

2009-12-31T16:27:00.001+02:00

Yesterday--as part of a near daily occurrence--my taxi driver asked me where I was from. When I said I was from America, he replied with a standard Arabic phrase that we learned at school I think within our first two weeks there: "How lucky you are (Niyaalak)!"

While I hadn't heard this particular phrase for some time, the sentiments it represents are nearly as common as the question. So, when I divulge the identity of my home country, besides "How lucky you are," I often hear such comments as, "Why would an American want to come here?" or--preceded by laughter--"All the Jordanians are trying to go to America, but you have come here?" or "I love America," "America is very nice" or simply a wide-eyed "Ohhhhhhhhhhhh."

So, I decided for once I would return the favor.

"And where are you from?" I asked with a smile, obviously aware that the answer would be Jordan or Palestine, depending on if the driver was of Jordanian or Palestinian origin.

But when he said Palestine, and the words "How lucky you are" were beginning to form on my lips, I stopped. Was he really lucky to be from Palestine?

After all, around 60 percent of the population of Jordan is of Palestinian origin, all of whom are refugees or descendants of refugees. Regarding the flight of these people to Jordan, I've heard some version of three different stories. One, in 1948 people were forced out of their homes in what is now Israel and fled to Jordan. Two, in 1948 people were forced out of their homes in what is now Israel and fled to what is now referred to as the West Bank, but in 1967 again were forced to flee, and went to Jordan. Three, either in 1948 or 1967 people were forced out of their homes and fled to Kuwait (why Kuwait I don't know, but many people have told me this story), but in 1990 or 1991 were forced to flee again after the invasion and occupation of Kuwait by Saddam Hussein, and came to Jordan.

So, many from this older generation of Palestinians were forced from their homes not just once, but twice. I have had friends tell me stories of fleeing from Jerusalem amidst the confusion of gunfire and of being evicted from their home near what is now Tel-Aviv by Israeli soldiers, of walking miles to safety, or of packing their household in the back of a truck and driving.

Of course, the younger generation of these Palestinians were born in Jordan, and the majority have never been to Palestine and--unless there is peace--may never go. Yet, look at the place they still refer to as their home. Across the river in Palestine--the West Bank--life includes coping with, among other things, a never ending cycle of violence, a divided and ineffective government, a paralyzed economy, a criss-cross of security checkpoints on the roads, severely limited movement and, finally, a great wall, just like the one in Germany the fall of which 20 years ago we all recently celebrated.

So, back to my question. Was he really lucky to be from Palestine? In that brief moment I decided that maybe "how lucky you are" wasn't the best response after all. Instead, I simply smiled and nodded my head, and put "Niyaalak" back inside. But how sad it is it seemed better to do so.

Local Shawarma Makes New York Times

2009-12-29T21:35:00.004+02:00

Here is a link to an article from the New York Times about a shawarma stand that is literally just up the street from our apartment.

And here's a link from a post we did over three years ago about this same shawarma stand.

Unfortunately, we rarely eat there; we like chicken shawarma, and they only do beef and lamb. In fact, we had a nice chicken shawarma just yesterday from a place called, oddly enough, "Burger King." It's also near our apartment, just a few doors down from another local eatery called "Queen Burger".

It looks like, though, this shawarma stand is doing just fine without us.

Eid Al-Adha

2009-12-16T21:58:00.011+02:00

We have been a little slow posting here but recently we marked the end of Eid Al-Adha - the festival of sacrifice. The Eid commemorates Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his son Ishmael and it is also during this time that Muslims make the annual pilgrimage to Mecca. It is a much anticipated three day holiday for which people put on their best clothes and make short visits to their friends and family, during which small cups of Arabic coffee and specific special sweets are served. Also families sacrifice a sheep in honor of Abraham and Ishmael, and the sheep is then traditionally supposed to be divided into thirds between your own family, your friends and the poor. In Amman there are designated sites where people can go buy and sacrifice sheep for the Eid and we went to check one out and take some pictures (we also visited some of our Muslim friends over the Eid but didn't take any pics).

Matt talking with some of the men about the prices of the sheep and where they were from. The more expensive were from Jordan and there were sheep from other countries like Slovakia and Australia as well.

Waiting...

We watched this man in the suit spend about 2o minutes looking for the right sheep--he picked two--and in this picture he is negotiating the price.

Weighing the sheep to determine the price.

One of the shepherds taking a break during a very busy Eid weekend.

Waiting in line for the sacrifice.

This guy was first in line.

In accordance with Islamic law the throats of the sheep are cut in one motion while the phrase "bismallah" (in the name of God) is said. The blood is then drained from the body. The blood from this sheep is being drained into an old water tank, put into a large hole in the ground.

The skinning and disemboweling were really quite impressive. These guys had skill with the knife and could do all the work in one quick slice.

Ready for the butcher.

The sheep being chopped up and divided into bags for the respective recipients.

Taking the sheep home.

Ramadan Kareem

2009-09-11T15:51:00.017+03:00

We're over half way through the month of Ramadan now, during which Muslims are supposed to fast from sunrise to sunset. It is at once a slow paced and a festive month, as during the daylight hours people are of course a little more tired than usual and many shops and stores keep irregular hours, while at night everyone lights up after eating, and everything opens up, many shops and stores staying open almost until daybreak.

Outwardly Ramadan can be compared somewhat to Christmas, as families decorate their homes and businesses their workplace, usually with some combination of stars and crescent moons. Below are some pictures taken of decorations inside our building.

Banners in the first floor entry.

A closer look at the banners. In Arabic is written Ramadan, and underneath is a Qur'an on a Qur'an stand. Below the Qur'an is written, "Month of goodness and blessing."

A lamp in front of the door to a neighbor's apartment. Underneath the man praying is written "Ramadan Kareem," which means "Blessed Ramadan" and is a common greeting during the month, and on the side is written "The month of fasting and worship."

On the door of a different apartment, this again says Ramadan Kareem, and was made by one of the kids who live there.

A different door, but the same Ramadan Kareem sign, again made by one of the kids there.

More kids artwork, on the wall outside another apartment.

Back in Jordan, or Thinking Required

2009-08-22T11:27:00.023+03:00

Finally, after being gone eight long months, we returned last week to Jordan.

It is hot, and it is dusty.

And there are a few things I'll need to get used to again.

Number one, we are back to having no car. In the States, most people drive everywhere, in their own car, and during our eight months there, so did we. Our new reality hit hard a few nights ago, though, as we took a trip to the Western style grocery store on the other side of town, bought ten bags of food and supplies, and then hit the streets to find a taxi. It continues to hit hard every time I walk to our local store in the mid-day heat for anything else we have needed.

Number two, we are back to conserving every drop of our water. In the Land of 10,000 Lakes, water flows freely from our taps. Not so here, though, where our water for the week is stored in rooftop tanks. Once it's done, it's done, until--in our neighborhood--Tuesday night, when the government pumps in our next weeks supply.

Number three, we are back to needing to be careful about what and where we eat and drink. One fantastic aspect of being back home was never needing to think about the cleanliness of food and water. Sure, people get sick from time to time from undercooked meat, and maybe there is an outbreak of some food borne illness occasionally, but generally speaking, one has confidence that when one eats at a restaurant or at someones house, they are not going to get sick. I do not have a similar confidence here, though--not after having fallen ill several times. Even the government has very little confidence, having shut down all the shawarma (like a gyro) shops in the country for a time a couple years ago after several bouts of mass illness stemming from the tasty little sandwich.

Although Jordan isn't the most difficult country in the world to live in as a foreigner--I can think of plenty of much more difficult places--it is true that I find myself needing to think more when I am here.

I don't have a car. Can I get to a certain location in a taxi? In a bus? How long will it take if I walk? When is the easiest time to get a taxi? Can I get back? Water is scarce. How can I plan my day to do laundry on water day? Should we share a flush? How much water is left? Can I shower today? Food and water can be dirty. Should I eat at this place? Is this salad clean? Was this water bottled? Is this the sandwich that does me in?

In eight months in America I grew accustomed again to doing whatever I wanted. I went wherever I wanted, when I wanted, ate whatever I wanted, wherever I wanted and--perhaps cavalierly--ran water whenever I wanted, and for however long I wanted. It is almost as if no thinking is required to live there (non-Americans, hold your jokes please). Thinking is required here, though. I'm glad to be back, but I do miss not needing to think.

Jordanian Dishonesty?

2009-07-09T06:19:00.026+03:00

A lot of foreigners in Jordan--and not a few Jordanians too--think Jordanian society is dishonest, and not just dishonest, but markedly more dishonest than the average nation or society. And while this may seem to be true to some extent sometimes--taxi drivers can be particularly trying, and the agreed upon details of any business arrangement seem to always be open to later revision (see this post for a description of a full day of dishonesty)--one must always be careful not to exaggerate the tendencies of the society in which you live.

By this I mean that when you are living in a foreign country it is always tempted to be dragged down by the differences between it and your home country and by the bad things that happen to you there. Yes, it is true that each culture has its positives and negatives, but if you are not careful, all the things that are just different can become negatives. Also if you are not careful, the bad people you meet or the bad experiences you have can become representative of the country and society as a whole, and not just people or events that happen to live or occur in that country. One must work hard to be realistic about the foreign country in which you live--in our case, Jordan--and be truthful to yourself and others about both its positives and negatives.

Because here in the United States of America we experience dishonesty too. A few days ago we wrote about our car getting hit while parked on the side of the road as I was putting our 8 month old son in his car seat. Afterwards it made me think about the issue of relative safety between Jordan and America. Now it has me thinking about the issue of dishonesty.

I'm thinking about this issue of dishonesty because today I discovered the insurance information given to us by the driver who hit us was false. I asked her for her information, and she pulled out an official looking piece of paper with the name of the insurer (a well known national company) and all of her information on it, all of which turned out to be false. The policy number that I copied from this piece of paper didn't even have the required number of digits. She lied right to my face.

Not only this, when I called her--why she gave me false insurance information but her actual telephone number, I do not know--she quite aggressively told me that the accident was as much my fault as hers, because I had opened the car door as she was driving by. Again, this was also false. Yes, the door was open, but I hadn't just opened it, only to smack her car as she drove by. I was standing inside of it, my back to the street, strapping the kid in his car seat while parked in a legal parking spot on the side of the street. I was a part of the normal flow of the city street, something to avoid hitting like an oncoming car or a person walking on that same spot. Again, another lie, this time over the phone.

It's frustrating to be cheated and lied to. And although I can be cheated and lied to on a semi-regular basis in Jordan, events in my life this week have reminded me that dishonesty is not specific to Jordan. As if I needed reminding. Because in the country of Bernie Madoff, Enron, Arthur Anderson, WorldCom, rock solid intelligence on Iraqi WMD's, Mark Sanford and all sorts of Wall Street chicanery, we don't.

Safety

2009-07-01T23:58:00.033+03:00

* We've taken quite a break from this blog as we've been in the United States and out of Jordan, but this post represents our return to regular blogging. In case anyone wants to know.

When people find out we've been living in the Middle East, or when we talk to people who want to talk about our lives in the Middle East, one of the first questions we get asked is this: "Is it safe there?"

Now, "safe" is a relative term. What one person means when they wonder about the safety about a place or an activity could be quite different from what another person means when they wonder about the same place or activity. And, as someone who has moved halfway around the world to live in a country and culture much different than mine and thus must deal with all the pitfalls (and joys) that this entails, perhaps my own definition of safety is different than the person asking me. On top of this, even my own perspective on safety changes depending on the activity. You will never catch me sky jumping, bungee jumping or working with teens, for instance, as all of those activities seem very unsafe to me for one reason or another.

So, although this question always has me wanting to break into the mind of the interrogator, my answer is always this: Jordan is in fact very safe. Jordan is not Iraq, which, although it is somewhat more stable now, I would call unsafe. Jordan is not Gaza, which was recently the scene of terrible fighting and bloodshed. Jordan is not even Beirut, which, although seemingly stable now, often seems to have the threat of civil unrest or Israeli incursion hanging over it. Jordan is safe.

But how safe is America? Two days ago as I was leaning over to put our 8 month old son in his car seat, a woman sped by in her car and smacked the open door that I was standing inside, perfectly oblivious that a car had managed to miss hitting me by perhaps a few inches. No one was hurt--although our little boy was strangely silent while stuck in his car seat for 30 minutes afterwards--but, as people say, it could have been worse. A few inches, a foot, closer to our car, and I'd be in a hospital bed right now. Maybe we all would be.

As I think about this incident, I think that if this had happened in Jordan, part of the narrative about it would have had something to do with the safety of living there. People would have bemoaned the crazy speeding habits of Middle Eastern drivers, the lack of order on the roads or something along those lines. The foregone conclusion might have been drawn that--although for different reasons than the usual--Jordan was not safe. I write about our experience the other day, though, to point out that bad things can happen anywhere. A lot of people seem to think that living in the Middle East brings us to the precipice of death. Without being too dramatic, though, this is the closest I have come to suffering extreme bodily injury since moving to Jordan in 2006, and the closest I've come in life--which includes a previous stint in Jordan between 1999 and 2001--since I rolled my car off an icy winter road after a date in high school and ended up upside down in the front yard of my girlfriends' parents.

Does this mean that there are no risks living in Jordan? No, but it doesn't preclude there being risks in America too. Because although when people ask how safe we are in Jordan they are wondering about the possibilities of being caught in the middle of a war or the victim of anti-American anger and aggression, the most unsafe I have felt over the past several years involved casually strapping my child into our parked car after leaving a coffee shop in south Minneapolis. As an American friend of ours in Jordan remarked, that would never happen in Jordan. Nobody uses car seats.

Away

2009-03-06T19:32:00.032+02:00

It has been a long time since we posted, just taking a break from the blog. We have been travelling with the new babe and visiting family and friends for the past three months. We will be returning to Jordan soon. A few random pictures...

The View of Gaza from Jordan

2009-01-06T10:51:00.023+02:00

Last night on the news we saw Israeli Defense Forces footage of precision strikes on what they said were various locations from which missiles had been fired into Israel. It was familiar looking footage; in America we see the same type during coverage of our wars. You know, grainy aerial shots with an "X" where the target is on the ground, followed by an explosion upon impact, after which we the viewer are supposed to take the word of the presenters that what is said to have been hit is really what was hit. Then we are supposed to be awed by the precision.

But what are Jordanians--around 60 percent of whom are of Palestinian origin--seeing on their news right now? And how are they reacting to this new crisis in Gaza? Since we're outside the country currently we obviously don't know exactly what they're seeing and how they're reacting to it. However, although we don't have access to regional television here, one can glean something of what Jordanians are seeing on their news now by looking at the pictures of the conflict they see every day when they open their newspapers. The following pictures are from the front page of the last three days of the Jordan Times, the English language daily in Jordan, but they reflect what's shown in the Arabic dailies too. I feel a bit voyeuristic presenting them here, but I think it's important to see what Jordanians are seeing regarding this conflict.

Sunday

Monday

Tuesday

According to the Times, the last picture is actually the result of one of those videos we saw on the news. Thus, two different looks at the same action, and in general, two different perspectives. And this second perspective is what Jordanians are seeing.

Gaza

2009-01-06T09:03:00.011+02:00

The Israeli bombardment of the Gaza Strip is in its tenth day now. Since its beginning ten days ago I knew I had to say something on this blog about the situation, but in this time I have struggled to produce anything thought provoking, struggled to construct anything worth writing down that isn't cliche or isn't being said someplace else, by someone else, already. Someone on our travels here in the United States asked me for my thoughts on the subject and all I could come up with was that it was part of what seems like a never ending cycle of violence. Anyone, however, could have said that.

I will say, though, that what enough people are not saying is that violence will never solve this conflict between Israel and the Palestinians. Take a quick look at it. For 60 years the Palestinians have been fighting the Israeli state, but their situation only continues to deteriorate year after year after depressing year. For their part during these 60 years the Israelis have been fighting fire with fire (or is it the Palestinians who have been fighting fire with fire?). After all of their incursions, bombardments and raids, though--and for all of their American made higher tech equipment and weapons--is their security situation much or any better than it was 60 years ago? What is happening in Gaza is a tragedy. Unfortunately, violence is common and cliche, and cliche is easy. I am praying that eventually something more thought provoking will prevail.

The Justification of Pain

2008-12-29T17:56:00.001+02:00

This post was started about a month ago, but was not finished until now. The context is a bit old, but the point remains.

A few days ago I read on the CNN ticker that the United States had bombed militants across the border from Afghanistan inside Pakistan. This is not the first time this has happened; in fact, I guess it's becoming common enough so that it's not really news anymore, since it was only reported at the bottom of the screen in the same place where information about Madonna's divorce and cricket scores are reported.

Tied to this, although we're a bit late in mentioning it, is the news that a U.S. commando team performed a raid across the Iraqi border into Syria--our neighbor to the north--two months or so ago. According to the New York Times, the commandos were going after "an Iraqi militant responsible for running weapons, money and foreign fighters across the border into Iraq". U.S. sources say that he was killed, while Syrian sources say that civilians were killed. It's hard to know who to believe. In response to the raid, though--as reported in this article in the online magazine Slate--the Syrians filed a complaint with the United Nations Security Council, shut the American School in Damascus and pulled out of a regional conference on Iraqi security. Even the Iraqi government, whose existence and success the raid was ostensibly designed to protect, protested against the action.

Again according to the New York Times, the actions in Pakistan and now Syria are based on "a legal argument that has been refined in recent months to justify strikes by troops and by rockets on militants in countries with which the United States is not at war." The article goes on to say that this concept is different from the doctrine of pre-emption--which the administration, you'll remember, used to justify invading Iraq--in that while the pre-emption concept is used to provide a rationale for going to war against a country and attacking governments and armies, this new concept is used to provide a rationale for attacking certain people or groups inside a country. So, I guess all the bases are covered now.

This new policy, though, makes me uncomfortable. For one, it once again ignores the basic concept of national sovereignty and says we in the United States should have the right to enter any country and do as we please if we think it is in our best interests. It says to the governments of these countries and their people that their interests, and their borders, don't matter. But just think how Americans would react if some country performed a similar raid on American soil for whatever reason. And it can't help the United States win friends in the world or in the region. A few posts ago we wrote about the antipathy towards the United States one experiences these days when living overseas. I don't think these kinds of actions will improve this situation.

But beyond this and in a way more important is the existential significance of this policy. It's disturbing to me that the American government seems to be spending so much time and effort these days coming up with creative arguments to justify hurting people. Think about it. In the past few years administration lawyers have been busy crafting inventive and separate arguments not only to justify pre-emptive strikes against a country but also raids against certain elements inside a country. The lawyers have also--don't forget--been busy crafting a definition to the exact meaning of torture, and have no doubt helped to decide that sending certain people from the U.S. to another country to be tortured excuses the United States from the accusation of the use of torture. So, we have now defined why we can hurt you, how we can hurt you and how much we can hurt you. Yay.

It's true that there are people and groups in the wide world who seek to do the United States harm. However, is the employment of violence all we have to offer as solutions to this problem? Have we no creative capacities to offer anything else? And must the administration spend so much time laying the groundwork for the use of violence, as if no other solution was possible or even desirable? Maybe I am different, but it bothers me that my government and country has placed such great priority recently on the justification of pain. Maybe if as much time was spent laying the groundwork for peaceful solutions to our problems, such justification wouldn't be necessary.

Merry Christmas!

2008-12-26T03:09:00.016+02:00

Since arriving back in North America two weeks ago we have been greeted in Minnesota by temperatures 70 to 80 degrees Fahrenheit colder (about 21 to 26 degrees Celsius) than what we had been experiencing in Amman and in Vancouver where we now are with Annamarie's parents by a once in a lifetime snowfall for the area of almost two feet (around 60 centimeters) on Christmas Eve. For two people who have been living in a fairly dry, desert environment for the past 2 1/2 years, the Christmas trip home couldn't have been scripted any better! Merry Christmas everyone!

Gone Home, or Garbage Plane

2008-12-14T21:50:00.018+02:00

A few days ago we flew back to the United States for Christmas, to introduce our new baby to friends and family and to just take a bit of a break from life in Jordan. We'll return to Jordan after a few months. Our direct flight on Royal Jordanian Airlines from Amman to Chicago was fairly uneventful, except for the man who shocked all of the stewards by emerging from the bathroom in the back of the plane and began casually meandering to his seat in the front of the plane literally as the wheels of the plane were touching down. In all the flying I have done, in many parts of the world and on many different airlines, this is something I have never seen before. The capper to it was his seeming unawareness--when screamed at to sit down by a stewardess--that he was doing something that in general the airlines quite frown upon. He just walked by her in no particular hurry and pointed towards the front, as if to mean that it was impossible for him to sit down at that time--no matter the position of the plane or the relative state of his safety--because he hadn't yet reached his seat.

Only after we had finally come to a complete stop and were allowed to exit, though, did we realize the carnage that had taken place on our 13 hour and 17 minute flight to Chicago. It dawned on us slowly at first as we struggled through the narrow aisle with our bags and our baby, but once we lifted our heads to observe our surroundings we could see that we were leaving behind an airplane drenched in garbage. There were newspapers strewn about everywhere, as if every passenger had one, and then deposited it on the floor not all put back together but as if each individual section was discarded separately after it had been read. Those in-flight magazines were scattered around as well, their readers apparently unable to slide them back into the pockets in front of them from where they came. There was food spilt on the floor and the seats, along with food wrappers and the plastic cups of a hundred different water requests, all of which somehow missed the post-meal pick-up and the last chance, pre-landing pick-up. There was paper thrown about, as if it had blown in with the wind. Row after row after row was coated with a jaw dropping amount of trash. "Do they treat their homes like this? I don't think so," a steward said to me.

Of course the steward was right. I have been in a number of homes in Jordan, and no, they do not treat them like a garbage dump. Hospitality is an important aspect of Jordanian culture, and a clean house is part of being a good host. Many do, however, treat the streets outside their homes like that. In fact, sometimes littering just seems to be a normal part of every day life. Kids and adults alike are always tossing what they don't need or want to use--be it pop cans, candy wrappers, styrofoam takeaway food containers or the ever popular plastic bags--on to the street. The garbage collectors in our neighborhood spend 10 to 12 hours each day just walking back and forth along the same small route, because once they've cleaned up an area, no doubt someone will have come by in the meantime and thrown to the street something they didn't want.

So it is this culture of littering that reared its head on board the plane with us, with every square inch of the plane taking the place of the streets of Amman and the airline stewards taking the place of our poor, overworked garbage collectors. The flight itself, as I said, was uneventful, which is good for a flight to be. But the site of our garbage plane, along with the brazen last minute bathroom user, made exiting the plane an event I'll not soon forget.

Something New

2008-11-29T20:53:00.006+02:00

This afternoon as I started on my way to the bakery, after walking up our alley onto the circle near our apartment, I exclaimed out loud to myself--"whoa"--when I looked up and saw this:

Now, perhaps you've scanned this picture and found it most unremarkable, but this is because what startled me so was actually the sight of something quite simple: lanes. You see, for our 2.5 years here--and for how many years before this I don't know--this circle has had no lanes. It was just a big, wide, black hole--an unmarked circle in which as many cars as those driving wanted could squeeze in. What these lanes will change now, though, will be interesting to see, as more than one guest has commented to us that even on roads where there are lane markers, actually using them seemed optional. So, since the point of these new lanes is to use them, perhaps in my surprised reaction to their simple addition was hidden this simple sentiment: Good luck.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2008-11-27T21:34:00.005+02:00

We celebrated Thanksgiving today like most people do in the States--sitting around the table and eating a big meal. We had some friends over for dinner and actually had some of the foods associated with Thanksgiving, like pumpkin pie, mashed potatoes, butternut squash soup and cranberries too. We did not, though have turkey, which is of course the most important Thanksgiving food item. Frozen turkeys are available here at grocery stores in the more Western part of Amman, but they are quite expensive. You can also buy a live turkey downtown, but they are so small that after plucking them they get down to be about the size of a chicken. So, instead of buying an expensive turkey or a small turkey, we went with a Jordanian classic: rotisserie chicken. We bought them at my favorite chicken shop in Amman, and here are a few pictures of the place. Oh, and they have great shawarma too.

The Presidential Elelction: A Break from Antipathy

2008-11-14T12:18:00.043+02:00

If you are an American, as I am, unless you live outside of the country I think it's hard to understand or even realize the antipathy that a lot of the rest of the world has felt towards America over these past several years. Sure, if you watch the news you might see a fleeting report about protesters greeting George W. Bush on an international trip or or some survey detailing anti-American sentiment, but on TV such antipathy seems distant and unreal, and if you are of a certain inclination, you might even think the reporter made it up. And you certainly don't have to deal with such antipathy; you can just turn the TV off. However, if you do live outside the country you know that such antipathy is real, and it sure isn't distant. It's right in front of your face, and you have to deal with it.

For instance, although not true of every non-American foreigner I know in Jordan, many I know or have met display, shall we say, a certain lack of enthusiasm for the direction the country has taken recently. Whether it's bewilderment over the war in Iraq or other foreign policies they view as heavy handed or finding humor in President Bush, a certain playful negativity or annoyance on their part is palpable. This antipathy is much more evident, though--and true for almost everyone--in the Jordanians I have met, whose negativity towards America is something different than playful. Here in the Middle East the negativity towards the American government is already pretty high because of America's near unconditional support for Israel, but it has ratcheted up even higher recently because of the invasion of and subsequent chaos in Iraq. People here are always quick to tell me they have no problem with the American people--which is true, they really don't--but they are just as quick to tell me they "hate" the American government, and I've been told over and over again that George W. Bush is a "terrorist" or a "dog" who "loves war," and even that they would like to "kill him."

All of this made the election of Barack Obama as President of the United States a welcome change to the usual negativity that surrounds the country. You see, even if you are an American who did not vote for him--and some of my friends and most of my family did not--you should know that his election is the most positive news about America to have been made in quite some time, and as an American living outside of America in the Middle East, I am craving positive news. And it's positive not just because of the specific man who won, but more so because of what that man represents: the first black American president.

Everyone here knows about America's history of slavery and segregation. And whether it's through movies or schooling, everyone also knows we still have racial issues and problems. But despite all this we now have a black president, and I think this sends a powerful, positive message to people about the possibilities of America. As I went to the store to buy a vacuum cleaner the morning after the election, the announcer on the radio in my taxi was talking about America's first black president. A few days ago an older friend nearby excitedly confirmed with me that Obama was America's first black president. And from the Los Angeles Times I saw this quote from a Jordanian writer and political analyst: "A lot of people told me they had tears in their eyes last night. I was one of them. I saw his speech. I was very moved. This is a lesson to us all, that blacks and whites in America can have such a shameful past between them, yet they come together and learn how to live together."

America has been fighting a war in Iraq for over five years now, apparently in an effort to bring democracy to the Middle East. Iraq may have had elections during this time, but the concept of democracy in this part of the world has been stained because of the methods used to bring it. I think with the election of Barack Obama, though, democracy may have regained some of its good name, and his election--as part of a vigorous, peaceful, public process--has done more for the cause of democracy than this war has done or will ever do. That a black man can be elected American president--and someone from a "minority" group in general--says a lot about the merits of democracy. No war can ever do as much. Again from the LA Times, quoting what I think are some very telling words from an Iranian merchant: "Let me tell you that now I believe in American democracy. Honestly, I did not think that Obama would be president. I thought that the invisible hands of the big trusts and cartels would not allow a black man to be president of the United States." And more words from the Jordanian: "Obama can make you once again respect the U.S. for its values and democracy and all those things we had forgotten about over the last eight years."

So if you are an American and didn't vote for Barack Obama, take heart in the knowledge that the extraordinary nature of his election--the first black American president--is something to feel good about. Even his foes recognize this. Sarah Palin said she was "proud" of Obama, and John McCain called his election "historic." And know that his election has brought positive news about America to places where there is and has been very little. I thought about these things as I walked up to our rooftop with the laundry Wednesday morning after the election. After years of seeing angry faces in response to American actions, I enjoyed waking up to find one American action to be the cause of so much worldwide good cheer. And I know he's just a man who is a politician and not a savior, but as I walked the final few steps and pushed our laundry through the rooftop door I found that the step his election represented--along with the respite from negativity--had filled me with good cheer too.

21 Days!

2008-11-04T14:04:00.021+02:00

It's been almost one month since we last posted. Part of the reason for this is we lost our internet connection twice for a period of time. Mostly, though, it's because we had our first child--a son--three weeks ago today, and our time to blog has been fleeting. And, even if the time had been available, we really haven't spent much time outside the house talking to people or doing anything interesting. As a result, there hasn't been a lot to say anyway. For now, here are some highlights from his first 21 days.

A few hospital shots.

Everyone is a little tired these days.

Hanging out with some stuffed animals, and one real one.

Expensive!

2008-10-08T00:12:00.005+03:00

We were out shopping the other day and saw this store. Maybe the owners are just being honest, but it seems like a different name might be better for business!

Debating Israel

2008-10-04T22:35:00.019+03:00

About halfway through the American vice-presidential debate between Sarah Palin and Joe Biden the other night, Palin made a statement that literally made me raise my eyebrows. In the middle of a discussion about Israel and the Israeli/Palestinian conflict, and after Biden had expressed his support for Israel, she said this: "I'm so encouraged to know that we both love Israel, and I think that is a good thing to get to agree on, Senator Biden."

Actually, when she said this, I not only raised my eyebrows, but my mouth dropped open as well. I guess I just couldn't believe what she had just said. She loves Israel? I found this strange, this profession of devotion to another country in the middle of an American vice-presidential debate.

I don't want to leave Biden out, though. What prompted this pronouncement was a similar statement of devotion he had made several minutes earlier. "No one in the United States Senate has been a better friend to Israel than Joe Biden," he said. "I would have never, ever joined this ticket were I not absolutely sure Barack Obama shared my passion." So, she loves Israel and he is Israel's best friend. I hope nobody I know here was watching.

As I said, these statements were made in the middle of a discussion about the Israeli/Palestinian conflict. What struck me most about this discussion, though, was its complete focus on the Israeli side of the conflict, and the complete absence of the Palestinian aspect. For example, Palin said this: "We will support Israel. A two-state solution, building our embassy, also, in Jerusalem, those things that we look forward to being able to accomplish, with this peace-seeking nation... It's got to be a commitment of the United States of America, though. And I can promise you, in a McCain-Palin administration, that commitment is there to work with our friends in Israel."

Again, though, not to be outdone, Biden took his turn. After calling the Middle East policies of President Bush "an abject failure," he said this: "We will change this policy with thoughtful, real, live diplomacy that understands that you must back Israel in letting them negotiate, support their negotiation, and stand with them, not insist on policies like this administration has."

I added the italics and the bolding above to help point out that this discussion of what we call the Israeli/Palestinian conflict left out the Palestinians. Palin said she and McCain would "work with Israel", and Biden said that he and Obama would "back Israel", but neither took the time to discuss what their policies would be toward, or the place of, the other party in this conflict, the Palestinians. Shouldn't this be part of the discussion? After all, we don't call it the "Israeli conflict"; we call it the "Israeli/Palestinian conflict". There are two groups of people involved.

Maybe I should have heard all of this in the context of what was going on in the debate at the time--the strangely politically necessary affirmation of adoration for the State of Israel. However, I can't help but think that their subsequent statements spotlight everything that is wrong with American policy on this issue--the Palestinians aren't even considered.

These two American politicians love Israel, are best friends with Israel and have a "passion" for Israel. They want to "support Israel", "work with our friends in Israel", "back Israel" and "support their negotiation." But what about the other guys, the Palestinians? And what kind of peace process leaves their needs and even their mention out of the discussion entirely? Surely Palestinians have needs worth backing or supporting. Surely we can work with them and support their negotiation. Perhaps they are even worth loving and befriending too. My point is that there are two sides in this conflict, with real people behind the arguments and ideologies of both sides. Recognizing just one of these sides will never lead to reconciliation, and to true, just and lasting peace. It will instead continue to marginalize and anger the ignored.

The Eid Begins

2008-10-01T12:18:00.016+03:00

Ramadan ended on Monday--bringing to a close a month during which Muslims are supposed to abstain from food, drink, smoking and sex from sunup to sundown-- ushering in the Eid al-Fitr, a three day holiday celebrating the end of this time of fasting.

Although the whole normal pattern of life changes during this month and it is even illegal to eat, drink or smoke in public (much less have sex), it is difficult to know exactly how much of the population actually does fast. I made a point of asking nearly every taxi driver I met during the month if they were fasting, and although most said they were, several surprised me by saying they were not. One of these non-fasters even told me that any driver who proclaimed to be fasting was lying. Almost everyone that I know well fasted, even most of my younger, unmarried male friends who aren't normally among the most religious and who never, ever go to the mosque. My own feeling just from talking to and knowing people is that most Jordanians at least start the month with the intention of fasting for the entire time. Whether they are still fasting by the end of the month is another story--one taxi driver told me a lot of people drop off after a couple weeks--and I know sometimes people might miss a day or two if they get sick or if their will power just isn't as strong that particular day. I think not being able to smoke might be the most difficult aspect of the fast for some, although others have told me it is not being able to drink water. Whatever the case, it's probably safe to say that most Jordanians fast for most of the time.

Eid al-Fitr--which means, literally, the Festival of Fast-Breaking--begins with the sighting of the new moon, signifying the beginning of the next Islamic month. Ramadan can be a trying time for many--a couple weeks ago the worker behind the cash register at our little local grocery store was asleep with her head on the conveyor belt when we arrived to pay. Faithfully making it through the month can also give people a sense of proud accomplishment. In any case, when it is over, the Eid is greeted with great enthusiasm. Jordanians are not the most expressive people, but Monday night the streets were bustling with excited, smiling people. Also, in Jordan, fireworks traditionally signify the beginning of the Eid, and on Monday night they were exploding all over the city, from the small but piercing noise makers thrown by children to the large, colorful displays of the type usually reserved for New Years or Independence Day celebrations.

Besides fireworks, though, there are many other traditions associated with Eid al-Fitr. As mentioned above, the Eid is a three day holiday, and during these three days everyone is supposed to make visits to their family and friends. Just to make sure people are home when you go, though, the first day of these visits is traditionally set aside for male relatives to visit the homes of their female relatives. Also, since there are a lot of visits to make--Jordanian families are quite large--they are supposed to be short, perhaps around 15 to 20 minutes. Coffee is served, as are sweets--usually some kind of chocolate. People are supposed to look their best on these visits, so many buy new clothes and get their hair cut or styled. In fact, the barber I know near our apartment told me the Eid is always one of his busiest and best times of the year. Even children get new clothes; yesterday I saw two little neighbor girls dressed in new white dresses and matching white bonnets, with a blotch of red lipstick somewhat clownishly over applied to their faces. Actually, their outfits were the kind of outfits one might see on little girls at an Easter Sunday church service. Many times kids also get gifts. Unfortunately--from my perspective--a popular gift of choice here seems to be some kind of fake weapon, like a cap gun or plastic sword.

Despite all this visiting--and despite the fireworks and new cap guns--the Eid is generally a calm, peaceful time, especially during the day, and especially after the first day. As I write, our neighborhood is very quiet, and no doubt people are enjoying this time between the end of their challenging holy month and the beginning of a new month of normalcy.

Back from Cyprus

2008-09-24T22:22:00.017+03:00

Recently we returned to Jordan after a nine day trip to the Mediterranean island of Cyprus; hence the long silence on this blog. We've been to Cyprus several times now, although not because we especially love it there or find it to be a particularly special place; we go there because it's close, we know people and can usually stay for quite cheap, there are beaches and it is out of the Middle East. Here are a few pictures of our time.

The beach in Larnaca, the southern coastal city where we stayed.

McDonald's, obviously, where we ate for the first time in about seven years, since for our first night we had no food in the house where we were staying. I wouldn't say we were missing much.

Our neighbors at the house where we stayed grilled chicken one night. They were kind enough to bring us a plate.

A sign in Larnaca.

A door in downtown Larnaca.

Drinking Cypriot coffee in a little cafe in Nicosia--the capital city located in the middle of the island.

Some kind of construction was going on in Nicosia at the church behind this green fence.

Dog Days

2008-08-30T12:58:00.009+03:00

I don't really know what the phrase "Dog Days of Summer" is supposed to mean, but whatever it means, I think we're in it. Although the website we check for the forecast is always several degrees lower than the temperatures given in the newspapers here, beginning August 17, for example, the recorded highs in Fahrenheit on it have been 95, 99, 99, 95, 88, 88, 90, 88, 93, 99, 97, 100 and 97. In Celsius, that's 35, 37, 37, 35, 31, 31, 32, 31, 34, 37, 36, 38 and 36. Today it's supposed to be 94/34. Next week the forecast calls for highs in Fahrenheit of 93, 93, 95, 101, 101, and 99. Or, in Celsius, 33, 33, 35, 38, 38, 37 and 36. What I'm trying to say is, August has been hot.

It's been tough for the cat too.

Some Days Are Like This

2008-08-27T09:24:00.003+03:00

A few days ago we were walking not far from our apartment when an empty Coke can landed on the street behind us, having been flung from the rooftop of the building at our side. Several months earlier a rock thrown from the same rooftop had also just missed us, so I shot into the building and ran full speed up the stairs, ready to catch the perpetrators before they could flee to the safety their homes. When I arrived at the top I could hear several voices behind the door to the roof, fumbling for keys and excitedly whispering, "hurry, hurry, hurry!" I thought they were on their way out, so I didn't open the door. Instead, though, they locked the door to prevent me from coming onto the roof. So, silently, I waited.

After just a couple minutes, the keys grew active again, the lock clicked, and I readied myself just inches from the door--for full theatrical effect--to startle whoever was behind it when they came out. And when they did come out, they were indeed startled. However, I was startled too, for walking through the door with a young boy and young girl was a woman wearing shorts and a t-shirt--an outfit she would never wear on the street--who appeared to be their mother. "Don't come in! Don't come in!" she said, jumping back behind the door. She may have been a little frightened at seeing a strange man standing there, especially considering the state of her somewhat scandalous attire in front of a man she didn't know.

"I don't want to come in," I said, "but I want to know why a Coke can just came from this roof and nearly hit us on the street" (I couldn't remember the word for "throw"). She played dumb at first, insisting she had no idea what I was talking about. Then, after I persisted, she said that yes, the can had originated from the rooftop, but it was an accident that it had almost hit us. I brought up that this was the second time something originating from that roof had landed near us on the street, with the first projectile being a rock. "Really?" she said, looking surprised while glancing at her son. "Yes, really," I replied. "I wouldn't be so upset if this wasn't now the second time."

She eventually left the safety of the roof and with her children we began walking down the stairs. She apologized for the flying Coke can. She also said such an incident wouldn't happen again. Both apology and promise, though, came without any admittance of guilt on the part of any of the rooftop pranksters. I wasn't entirely satisfied with this, but I decided it was all I was going to get, so I left.

A couple hours later we were at home waiting for a new mattress to be delivered. We had agreed on a price beforehand and paid half at the shop, so when it came we just had to pay the other half, plus the 5 dinar delivery fee we had also agreed on. Things are never this easy here, though, and when it came and it was time to pay the rest, the delivery charge had suddenly jumped to 20. Now, relatively speaking an extra 15 dinars is not a huge sum of money, but a prior accord had been reached, so 5dinars is what I was going to pay.

"I'm not going to pay 20," I said. "We made an agreement."
"But I came from far away," said the driver, who was probably in his late teens or early 20's and was not present when the deal was made.

We continued with these basic arguments for some time in broken record fashion until the driver asked to call Ali, the man at the shop with whom we had made the aforementioned agreement. So, I called Ali's cell phone. No answer. I called it again. No answer. The driver then called the office land line. No answer. He tried it again. No answer. I tried Ali's cell several more times, with still no answer. The driver called the office several more times, until finally someone answered. He gave the phone to me. Ali was not there, though; he had gone home for the day. And after I started explaining the issue to the person who was there, I mysteriously lost the connection. When I called back, there was no answer. Another try, and no answer. It appeared the office would be no help in sorting out the issue.

After some seconds of confusion, the driver and I shared our main arguments a few more times. Then, after several awkward seconds of silence, I finally decided it was over. We had an agreement, and five dinars was all he was getting. I felt bad, since he was not involved in the original bargaining process and could very well have sincerely been expecting 20. This is difficult to gauge, though. It isn't always easy here to tell who is being a cheat and who isn't, so I went with what I had expected from the beginning. Begrudgingly, the driver took his 5 dinars and left.

A few hours after this I left the house to run an errand. By the time I finished it was late in the evening, and I went to a busy section of road to wait for a taxi to take me home. When I got one, though, the driver didn't turn on his meter, even though it is against the law not to. This is not unusual, and many times when this happens I tell the driver politely not to "forget" abut the meter. Sometimes they turn it on, sometimes they don't, sometimes they claim it is broken. This time, though, I let it go, since I travelled the route often and knew basically what the fare would be.

Unfortunately, when we reached our destination and I asked the driver how much he wanted, the price he quoted was at least twice what it would have read on the meter. So, a confrontation ensued yet again. The distance was short, I said, and I wasn't going to pay so much. "And why didn't you turn on your meter?" I asked. He argued back, angry that I was refusing to pay his price and telling me why I should. These arguments can go on for a while, but at this point in the day, after the previous events that had occurred, I was tired. So, I just put the money I owed--the real price, not the fake--on the passenger seat and walked away, not saying another word. Some days are like this here, but on this day, I had had enough.

The View from Our Apartment

2008-08-22T23:23:00.005+03:00

Every time we look out the front windows of our apartment our eyes are inevitably drawn to this garbage bin, which sits directly in front of our building. Often it is overrun with wild cats, occasionally it is the source of stale smelling black smoke when a certain neighbor boy sets fire to its contents and almost always it is overflowing with trash. One time I even witnessed our next door neighbor fling a bag of trash from his third floor balcony in the direction of the bin in lieu of actually walking down and placing the trash in the bin. He missed.

On this particular day, however, it seemed to be overflowing with more trash than usual, so I took a picture. It was water day in our neighborhood, so probably while everyone was busy sweeping and mopping their apartments, they were also throwing out a lot of accumulated trash, not all of which made it into the bin. If you look closely, in and around the bin you can see at least three of the aforementioned cats, an old chair, a pile of brush and a stream of water which is either run-off from someones cleaning or unfortunate overflow from the tanks on our roofs. Enjoy the view.

Why Not Non-Violence?

2008-08-19T00:58:00.006+03:00

Several posts ago I described discussing at a conference I attended in Lebanon how dispossession was the root cause of the Israeli/Palestinian conflict, and not Islam, as others may think. I also mentioned in that post my general support for the Palestinian cause. As I alluded to, though, I have serious problems with the way Palestinians fight for their cause, which was discussed at this same conference in sessions about peacemaking.

During the conference there were two joint sessions with representatives from the Muslim community in Beirut, and both times the question of peacemaking in the context of the Israeli/Palestinian conflict was raised. I went straight to the point in the first session, asking one of the Muslim representatives this question: "Why has there been no large scale movement of non-violence in the Palestinian community against Israel, such as the movements of Martin Luther King Jr. in the United States and Gandhi in India? I believe such a movement would bring Palestinians the desired results more quickly." My question was serious and sincere, and in the absence of a serious movement of non-violence in the 60 years of bloodletting since the creation of the state of Israel, I really hoped for some thoughtful reflections on this topic. Who knows, maybe there were perfectly good reasons for the lack of such a movement. The answer I received, though, disappointed me, as the gist of the response was this: Israel has attacked the Palestinians, so the Palestinians have the right to defend themselves. That was it. End of story, next question. No reflective consideration as to the merits or effectiveness of non-violence was given. Just a brush off.

The second joint session was held a few days later at an Islamic center in a Shi'ite neighborhood that was heavily bombed by Israel in their 2006 war with Hezbollah. The imam of the center discussed Palestinian resistance to Israel, but his consideration of non-violence was also disappointing, as it basically mirrored that of the previous session: Israel has attacked the Palestinians, so the Palestinians have the right to defend themselves. He even compared the use of violence on an enemy to the use of chemotherapy on cancer. Although both chemotherapy and violence cause all sorts of unwanted, undesirable side-affects, he said, they can also bring about positive results.

Now, I wasn't necessarily expecting any of the representatives there to side with non-violence and/or call on Palestinians to begin a non-violent movement. I'm also not saying their responses--basic statements on the right to self-defense--were anything out of the ordinary, or different from what most people in this world would have said or believe. After all, pacifists or adherents of non-violence are a minority in this world, and more than likely you are not one of their number.

As I said, though, their responses were still extremely disappointing to me. However, they were disappointing not so much because I didn't like or agree with them, but more so because so little thought went into them. I believe there is a place for non-violence, but in each case the question of non-violence was swiftly whisked aside and instead violence was defended, without even the tiniest reflection as to whether non-violence had any merit at all, or whether the more acceptable violent tactics were even working to better the lives of Palestinians or helping them to reach their goals. I mean, as I alluded to in my question from the first session, non-violent tactics worked for Gandhi against the British and for Martin Luther King, Jr. against the American government. Meanwhile, the Palestinians have been fighting the State of Israel with bombs and guns now for 60 years and their situation has only gotten worse. Again, I believe the cause is just, but how long will it be before new methods are used to fight for this cause, and how long will it be before non-violence gets a serious look, and not just reflexive rejections?

Taste the Reconciliation

2008-08-16T11:09:00.007+03:00

Just before we went to Lebanon at the end of June about 18 months of struggle between Hezbollah and the Lebanese government--followed by a couple weeks of violent fighting in the streets of Beirut--ended. What brought an end to this struggle were talks initiated by Prince Sheikh Hamad bin Khalifa al Thani of Qatar, which were held in the capital of Qatar, Doha. The work of Qatar and the prince to help bring an end to the deadlock was not lost on the Lebanese people, and we saw signs all around Beirut thanking them for their involvement. Below are two of them.

This one says, "We all say thank you Qatar."

Even Haagen-Dazs got in on the act with a new marketing campaign, offering the "Doha Agreement Cone." It was tempting, if only to have the opportunity to say "I'll have the Doha Agreement Cone please," but we just took the picture instead. Tasting the reconciliation required spending more money than we were willing for ice cream.

Shooting in Amman

2008-07-19T21:40:00.015+03:00

Six people were injured in a shooting outside the Roman Amphitheater in downtown Amman after a concert there last week. Their injuries were thankfully not severe, and according to the Jordan Times they have basically recovered. The gunman, however, shot and killed himself while being chased by police. According to Reuters, the gunman--identified by Jordanian authorities as a resident of a Palestinian refugee camp just north of Amman--apparently thought his victims were Israelis. Only one was Israeli, though--Israeli Arab--and four were Lebanese members of a choir that had just performed at the amphitheater. The sixth was a Jordanian bus driver.

This is the third incident against foreigners--or people thought to be foreigners--that I am aware of that has taken place since we moved here in 2006. In September 2006 a British tourist was killed and six others injured in another shooting outside the amphitheater, and in March of this year a German tourist was stabbed in an area downtown not far from the amphitheater. According to the authorities, all three incidents were the work of lone perpetrators.

Although I wanted to post something about this latest incident, I was hesitant to do so, lest it contribute to the general perception I think some people have at home that the entire Middle East is a swirling cauldron of violence in which Westerners are apt to be shot or kidnapped at any moment. We have had a lot of visitors since we've been here, and most of them have told us stories about co-workers, friends and/or family members who thought they were crazy for wanting to come here. I also didn't want to sound like an alarmist (Look what's happening in Jordan!). However, these three incidents do represent something of a pattern--albeit over a long period of time. Also, since they involve the targeting of foreigners--or in this case people assumed to be foreigners--they are particularly newsworthy to me, a foreigner.

That being said, though--the closest I have come to being involved in this type of an incident still is from when we lived in Minneapolis. One night several years ago I was sitting on a friends' large front porch near our apartment doing some homework when I heard gunfire so loud it seemed to almost come from within the house. Without thinking, I bolted inside and ducked behind the door. Soon after, as police cars and ambulances converged on the area, I discovered that my ears were not lying: a man sitting in his back porch in the house directly across the alley behind the house where I was had been shot. The man's death was one of 47 homicides in Minneapolis that year.

So, although war rages on in Iraq, Israelis and Palestinians continue to fight, another burst of trouble just ended in Lebanon and Jordan may or may not--only time will tell, really--have some sporadic issues to deal with regarding violence against foreigners, we've got some problems in Minneapolis too.

Lebanon: Outside Beirut

2008-07-11T17:23:00.019+03:00

Here are some pictures of our travels outside of Beirut.

Jounieh, north of Beirut.

The small port of Byblos, about 45 minutes north of Beirut, where we saw...

pomegranate trees...

backgammon played in the market area by some small Roman ruins...

beautiful gardens...

flowers...

and churches.

A stream south of Beirut.

The city of Sidon, about 25 minutes south of Beirut, where we saw...

the old souq, or market...

a jumble of wires...

and watermelons overflowing.

Lebanon: Beirut

2008-07-11T16:14:00.046+03:00

Yesterday we returned home to Jordan after spending about one month in Beirut. We really enjoyed enjoyed our time in another Middle Eastern capital, and came away with two big impressions of the city.

For one, from both the 23rd floor of the apartment where we were staying and from street level too, the buildings of Beirut shows the scars of violence and civil war it has suffered over the last several decades. After a 15 year civil war that ended in 1990, heavy bombardment by Israel in 2006, and sporadic bouts of unrest and fighting between and since--including skirmishes downtown and in other areas just before we arrived--the city probably has not been able to revamp its infrastructure and keep up with general maintenance the way other cities can. For example, many buildings are still pocked with bullet holes from the civil war, with occasional severely damaged buildings still holding residents in the units that are still somewhat liveable. Although much of the damage has been cleaned up, the 2006 bombing campaign of Israel left empty lots where buildings once stood, the result of vacuum bombs that--after impact--created a hole in the ground and then sucked their target down into it. Also, the paint or stucco of many buildings is peeling or falling off, leaving the brick underneath exposed. Combined with the pollution that had turned many of the buildings a dirty black or grey, parts of the city just looked in need of a 2008 makeover.

One shouldn't have the impression that the whole city was like this, though. A lot of work has been done and is being done in the city, and many new buildings have been erected and others have been restored. We are just not used to seeing bullet riddled buildings and the like, so such images tend to stay with us.

Also, Beirut is also a much more liberal city than Amman, or perhaps it is better to say it is much less conservative. It was rare to see a woman wearing the hijab, and many women were wearing the same kinds of outfits one might see women wearing on hot summer days in Minneapolis. Matt wore shorts every day--men rarely wear shorts in Jordan--and Annamarie wore tank tops and skirts. Also, it was common to see men and women hanging out together, which--as we wrote in a previous post--does not happen much here. To us, this liberalism gave the city a more relaxed feel, and because the atmosphere was so different from Amman, gave our time a vacation-like feel. Here are some pictures.

Looking out from the 23rd floor.

From the boardwalk.

Translation: America is the head of terrorism.

The former Holiday Inn, used as a sniper position in the civil war.

Construction near the waterfront.

A restored building.

Restored area of downtown.

In the neighborhood where we stayed.

A mosque.

The Root of the Problem

2008-07-01T19:20:00.001+03:00

Last week I attended a conference at a seminary in Beirut—we’re still here in Lebanon now—in which three subjects were covered: Islamic Law, the Israeli/Palestinian conflict and Christian Peacemaking. I left with many things to think about, and I’m not sure exactly what I would say had me thinking the most or left the biggest impression on me. One statement on the Israeli/Palestinian conflict, though, made by one of the speakers—an Anglican minister who had spent many years in the region and who had written several books on the conflict—struck me as important to remember. “The root of the problem,” he said, “is not Islam, but dispossession.”

This is an important point to remember, especially considering the images we see and the news we hear in the United States. When it comes to this conflict and story, we hear on the news about suicide bombings and rockets attacks on Israeli civilian areas, and we hear about Hamas, the Islamic group that governs the Gaza Strip that the U.S. government classifies as a terrorist organization. To a U.S. audience, these are frightening, foreign things to hear about, and as such they can overwhelm all other considerations when contemplating this issue. An American watching the news and seeing images of cafes and discos blown to pieces and civilians heading to bomb shelters—because of suicide bombs attached to or rockets launched by Muslims—probably thinks, “Wow, Islam is a menace, it is the cause of this problem, and they will never give the Israelis peace.” Or something like that.

However, despite all this it is important to remember that the root of the problem is not Islam, but dispossession. I basically already believed this, but have never quite heard the issue articulated so succinctly. Very simply, there is a problem today because Arab Palestinians—Muslims and Christians—lost their homes. There is no problem without dispossession.

As I learned at the conference, 130 years ago the inhabitants of the land that is now the state of Israel were almost entirely Arabs. In the 1880s, Palestinians made up 95 percent of the population, with Jews at 5 percent. By around 1920, due to immigration from anti-Semitic Europe, Jews had become about 10 percent of the population, and by 1947, 31 percent. Palestinians probably weren’t losing their homes yet at that stage, but at the creation of the state of Israel by the United Nations in 1948, they started to. In the months before, during and after the subsequent war between Israel and the surrounding Arab nations, around 750,000 Palestinians left, fled or were forced out of their homes. Dispossession. This flight continued as the years went by, and accelerated again in 1967 with another war between Israel and its neighbors. Today, the population of Israel is 80 percent Jewish and 20 percent Arab. Recently I read there are also today around 5.5 million Palestinian refugees scattered around the world. Dispossession.

Several million of those Palestinians now live in Jordan, so I also know this from experience: I have a friend—a barber whose salon is around the corner from us—whose father’s family was forcibly removed in 1948 from their home in Safed, in the Galilee region of Israel. Nothing is left of the Arab village that once was there. The family of one of my Arabic teachers in Amman was forced out of their home in Jaffa, just south of Tel-Aviv, in 1948. They assume a Jewish family lives there now, and is also taking advantage of the fields of orange and lemon trees they once cultivated. Another friend—an old man who owns a tiny shop near us—remembers fleeing his home in Jerusalem amidst the chaos of bombs and explosions. I’ve met people who fled their homes in what is now Israel in 1948 and escaped to what is now called the West Bank, only to flee again in 1967. I know of people who still have the keys to the homes they left and lost. Dispossession.

I have problems with how Palestinians in general and Palestinians influenced by Islam in particular have gone about fighting for their land, and certainly the Arab states around Israel are no angels. This is a topic for another time. But this whole history of Palestinians being forced from their homes—indirectly out of fear or directly by Israeli forces—is why I think, and why we in the United States need to remember, that the root of this bloody, seemingly never-ending conflict in which both sides are constantly violently reacting to the other, is not Islam. It is dispossession. Dispossession.

Sites of Jordan II: Wadi Rum

2008-06-17T19:58:00.027+03:00

After over two years of living in Jordan, last week we finally visited one of the most famous places in the country--the desert of Wadi Rum. As soon as we entered it, I wondered why it took that long.

Located in the very south of Jordan, Wadi Rum is a unique desert wilderness of about 420 square miles. Wadi means "valley" in Arabic, and the wide and flat desert of fine, red sand is surrounded on each side by tall, mountainous outcrops, many shooting straight up to the sky. There are also many places where the wind has created large sand dunes that rest like giant waves, frozen against these rocky walls. Amazingly, until recently the desert was home to seven nomadic tribes--Bedouins--who lived off of and roamed the area with their goat herds, living in huge tents made of goat hair. There is even a phrase in Arabic for this type of tent--beit shar--which literally means house of hair.

We drove out in a jeep and spent the night with a local guide who said there were about 20 families who still lived in the desert. He was 28 years old, and said his family came in from the desert to live in the small village of about 1000 people on the western edge when he was 20. He said he didn't like the village as much as the desert, though. Too noisy. Click on this link to find out more about Wadi Rum. It's difficult to describe how truly beautiful and different it is, so here are some pictures of our trip.

From the bottom of a sand dune, and the next two are from the top.

Carvings of camels, said to be about 3,000 years old.

Some Saudi Arabian friends and relatives of our guide arriving to spend the night at our campsite.

They eventually brought out the biggest argileh we had ever seen.

What Happens When Genders Mix

2008-06-15T21:43:00.006+03:00

Last month we posted a story about gender mixing in Jordan. However, a few days ago an article in the Jordan Times that shows what happens sometimes when the genders do mix--women get harassed--caught my attention. In this case, it seems that in Jordan there is an epidemic of assaults on female nurses, with 86 reported assaults since the middle of 2007 and 6 last weekend alone. What's more--according to the article--the government seems ambivalent enough about the problem that the Jordan Nurses and Midwives Association is suing the Ministry of Health for their alleged unwillingness to deal with the problem.

Obviously Jordan is not the only country where women are harassed and assaulted. Sadly, that is not unusual in the world. However, I did produce an audible exclamation of shock to myself when I read about this problem. Anyway, I didn't want to say too much really; I just wanted to set up the article and link to it. Here it is. Read it.

Rachel Ray: Terrorist Sympathizer?

2008-06-05T15:11:00.013+03:00

A few days ago I heard some rumblings about Food Network star Rachel Ray causing some controversy for sporting a black and white Palestinian head-dress--called a kaffiyeh--in an online advertisement for Dunkin' Donuts that began running at the beginning of May. So, as I do, I went online and looked it up.

I discovered that several weeks after the ad first ran, she and Dunkin' Donuts were heavily criticized in a conservative blog called Little Green Footballs for using the kaffiyeh, saying the ad was "casually promot[ing] the symbol of Palestinian terrorism." Also, conservative blogger and Fox News contributor Michelle Malkin condemned Ray in her blog for donning "a jihadi chic kaffiyeh." According to this article from The New York Times, a firestorm then erupted online--I saw hundreds of references to the ad in just a few minutes of searching--and finally Dunkin Donuts pulled the ad on May 7. Another article on the controversy can be found here on the website of MSNBC.

I spent some time on the Little Green Footballs blog and sifted through a couple hundred of the mostly very angry 493 comments that people left in response to the kaffiyeh controversy. I was surprised by the sheer passion that the respondents had for the issue. They were were quite serious in their disgust, many taking the opportunity to blame the nebulous "left-wing" for the appearance of the kaffiyeh and calling for boycotts of Dunkin' Donuts and discussing writing letters to the company too. Some even sincerely debated whether Ray knew about the symbology of the kaffiyeh or if she was just "clueless" or ignorant" and wore it because it looked nice. Someone even casually wondered if perhaps Ray was "of Muslim heritage." I did not share their passion, though, and to me, it seemed that such anger over a wardrobe accessory meant that these people were just waiting to get mad about something. So they did.

One of many reasons I don't share their passion is that I have a much different view about the meaning of kaffiyehs. Here, I see them almost every day, and mostly on the heads of old men who used to live in Jerusalem or Jaffa or some other city or village in what is now Israel. The kaffiyeh is just their traditional head-dress, and nothing more. It doesn't mean terrorism just because some people or groups who commit acts of terror also happen to wear it too. That's like calling, for instance, the cowboy hat the "symbol of bank robbery" just because Jesse James used to wear a cowboy hat when robbing banks.

Of course, the simplest reason I don't share their passion on this issue is this: what Rachel Ray is wearing in that ad is NOT a kaffiyeh. This was clearly evident to me not after careful scrutiny or meticulous examination of the above picture, but literally after looking at it for a half second. Yes, what she is wearing around her neck is indeed black and white--the traditional colors of the Palestinian kaffiyeh--and there are tassels on the edges. However, the design of what she is wearing--the arrangement of the black and white colors--is not the same as the design of a traditional kaffiyeh. No kaffiyeh looks like this, or would ever look like this. Instead, a traditional kaffiyeh--as worn here by the deceased Yasser Arafat--looks like this.

Yes, there is a certain similarity between what Ray is wearing around her neck and what Arafat is wearing on his head. Both items are scarf-like, and as mentioned above both are black and white. However, all black and white scarves are not kaffiyehs, and what Ray is wearing is not a kaffiyeh. It's unfortunate that so many people got so bothered and that so much angst was spent and wasted over Rachel Ray's scarf. Just a little research and open mindedness would have shown that there was no reason to be so irate, but unfortunately--and ironically--so many people chose to remain "clueless" and "ignorant", and thus they became upset.

Gender Mixing

2008-05-31T15:19:00.009+03:00

Recently the two of us spent some time in the company of a Jordanian man and woman who were not related to each other in any way. This may sound unremarkable to you, but as far as I can remember, this was just the second time in our two years here that we have spent time in a mixed gender social setting in which the mixed genders present were not related. This is indicative of the segregated nature of Jordanian society. Men and women don't mix much, and when they do, often times they are related.

It is this segregation of the sexes that creates vexing problems for me sometimes. For instance, even after two years in our apartment building, I still would not recognize two out of the three Jordanian women who live here if I ran into them on the street. I've had conversations with them, but only through the closed doors of their apartments when I've come to ask a question of their husbands. Hence, I have no idea what they look like.

A further issue occurs when I see women on our street that I have seen outside before and know live nearby. My instinct is to be friendly, to say a simple hello, perhaps engage in small talk, and move on. This is what I would do at home, and perhaps after a time we would move on from small talk to something more meaningful. Here, though, such friendliness would be considered somewhat forward, and who knows who might be looking down on me from their upstairs window? As a result, if I happen to cross paths with a women, usually I just put my head down and keep walking. This even troubles me, though, when I come across women I do know. Recently I happened to be at the falafal shop nearby when a women from church came in. I talk to her at church, and she has been to our home more than once. However, because of the stigma that surrounds gender mixing here, I was unsure of how to acknowledge her presence. I wanted to greet her, but I didn't want to appear too friendly in front of all the guys at the falafal shop. So, we did speak for a minute, but it was an awkward conversation during which I wondered the whole time what everyone else was thinking.

Of course men and women do mix here--there is no 100 percent adherence to any cultural norm--and Jordan is not Saudi Arabia, where gender segregation is so strong that women make up only 5 percent of the workforce. However, since I am a foreigner transplanted into a different culture half-way around the world I do not always know which women I am allowed to talk to, and when and where I can talk to them.

Interestingly, though, when I expressed this frustration to a Jordanian friend of mine, to my great surprise, he said he that he had the same problem! He also did not always know with whom it was appropriate to speak, and when and where it was appropriate. He was born here, raised here and lives here still, but the question of gender mixing--and more simply, of the basic friendly greeting on the street--was still difficult for him. He said if he came across the wife of one of his friends outside, he would feel comfortable greeting them. However, that is about all he felt reasonably comfortable with. Instead, the best thing, he said, was just to wait and see if you are greeted first. So, I am trying to do that. I am waiting, and looking forward to one day putting a face to those voices behind the doors.

Planning

2008-05-26T17:05:00.007+03:00

Recently online I came across a couple of interesting items from the past that relate to current events in the Middle East and to current American politics. They also have to do with words matching actions, and with planning.

The first item concerns the rising gas prices, which makes headline news nearly every day now and which often is mentioned in emails we receive from home. Gas is, by the way, still cheaper in the United States than it is here. Anyway, a week or so ago President Bush was in Saudi Arabia to commemorate 75 years of US-Saudi relations, and while there he politely asked the Saudis to increase output in order to facilitate lower prices. The Saudis, however, as you may know, declined his request. You can read about it here.

I found this to be interesting because I happened to discover online the other day that asking the Saudis for a break is exactly what Bush said he would do while on the campaign trail in 2000. If gas got too expensive, he said, he would talk to the Saudis or Kuwaitis "and convince them to open up the spigot." You can read about that here. So, here is an example of a presidential candidate doing exactly what he said he would do, even eight years after his statement was made. Unfortunately, though, it didn't work. So I wonder, was that his plan for dealing with energy related issues from the beginning? And, if so, what's Plan B?

The second item concerns the war in Iraq, and the issue of giving American troops and the American people a timetable for American withdrawal. This is a hot issue because Bush is steadfastly opposed to such a timetable, while many in the Democratic Party support the idea, and presidential candidates Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama have both discussed what their timetables might be if elected. Although I was steadfastly opposed to making war with Iraq--complete with protesting in anti-war marches, peace buttons, a sign in our front yard and plenty of conversations with people about war not being the answer--I haven't totally made up my mind on the merits of a timetable or early withdrawal. After all, it is possible that pulling out early may unleash even more chaos on Iraq if the instability created by the war isn't cleaned up. All that said, though, also as I happened to discover online the other day, then candidate Bush actually supported setting a timetable for American involvement in Kosovo when on the campaign trail in 1999. At that time, during the campaign designed to protect Albanians from being attacked by Serbians in what was then Yugoslavia, he said that it was "important" for then President Bill Clinton "to lay out a timetable as to how long [the troops] will be involved and when they will be withdrawn." You can read about it here.

So, here is an example of a presidential candidate seemingly at odds with a previous statement regarding a similar situation. Yes, it is true that the two wars aren't totally analogous--and people and situations change--but his current rhetoric in which he deplores the very idea of a timetable as "defeatist" language seems out of step with his earlier rhetoric. So, again I wonder about the plans he had from the beginning. Since he seemed to have believed a timetable was appropriate for his predecessor, why was and is it not appropriate for him? What was his plan for leaving Iraq at the start of the war? After five years, are we on Plan B, C? It just seems that whether the early rhetoric of President Bush matched his later actions or not, it appears obvious--as the price of gas continues to rise and the violence rages on in Iraq--that better plans were needed.

Twins

2008-05-18T20:35:00.004+03:00

While walking through the old city of Damascus one time we came upon a row of portraits tacked on to an old stone wall near some even older Roman columns, in the square just outside the most famous section of the market. Although the portraits were of the Syrian President Bashar al-Assad, I couldn't help but think that they bore an uncanny resemblance to a basketball player I grew watching in the 1980s. What do you think?

Bashar al-Assad

His NBA Look-alike

One day in Syria

2008-05-15T13:46:00.017+03:00

This week we took a quick trip north up to Syria. After an eight hour wait at the border and catching a new taxi about a half hour later after a collision with a wild dog on the dark night road rendered our original car undriveable, we made it to Damascus and pleasantly found our room at the convent where we were staying to still be reserved for us. Here are a few random pictures of our time.

I am in Jordan

2008-05-09T01:12:00.006+03:00

Our neighborhood here in Amman is in an area roughly between west and east Amman. In west Amman--which also happens to be the more "western" part of the city--there are large, single family homes mixed in with newer apartment buildings of shiny glass and clean white stone. The streets are wider and quieter, and there is a possibility of being surprised by small patches of green grass at random locations. In the business areas many of the buildings look like smaller versions of those downtown at home, with large glass facades, less stone and more color, and if the business is selling clothes--with giant advertisements featuring white people. In these areas it is also possible to find one of the nine Starbucks that have recently cropped up here and be surrounded by an interior that mirrors exactly the interior of every Starbucks at home. In east Amman--which also happens to be the more "traditional" part of the city--there are no single family homes, just older apartment buildings in various stages of dirty brown. The streets are narrower and loud, and seeing patches of green grass definitely would be a surprise. The businesses look much like the apartment buildings--mostly dusty stone--and there are no Starbucks.

The point of describing all of this is to say that there are places in Amman where an American can go and--if you want to--be surrounded by home, and almost forget you are in Jordan. However, if I ever do forget where I am--which will mean I am spending way too much time in west Amman--it is conversations like the following that will snap me back to my reality.

One day a friend of mine whom I visit two or three times per week asked me if I wanted to go out to a coffee shop on a particular night. I said that would be great, but before I gave a final answer I would just have to check to make sure with my wife first. At this statement he furrowed his brow and cocked his head to one side, betraying noticeable, genuine confusion.

"Why?" he said. There was no malice or contention in his voice; he was actually, sincerely curious as to the answer.

"Because she's my wife, and I need to check with her," I said. "I am not the lord of the house."

He said nothing, as if he was still pondering what I had said and letting the words swim around in his head.

"Is this strange?" I said.

"Yes. This is the Middle East," he finally responded. "We don't need to ask."

"You are the lord of the house?"

"Yes, we are the lord of the house."

A few days later he was discussing a trip he might take to Egypt, and he asked me if I wanted to come with. Now, a trip to Egypt would be no small endeavor, and of course much bigger than a trip to a coffee shop, so I gave him the only answer I could at that time. "Maybe," I said. "But first--" and then he stopped me.

"You have to ask your wife?" he said.

"Yes," I replied with a smile, knowing full well his exasperation with such an answer. "I have to ask my wife."

With that, he smiled, chuckled gently and shook his head. This business of asking my wife was indeed a bizarre, humorous thing to him, and I think as much of an interesting cultural experience for him as it was for me. His reaction and our ensuing conversation also served to remind me that I am, indeed, in Jordan.

Sites of Jordan: The Dead Sea

2008-05-02T16:40:00.010+03:00

Part of the reason we do this blog and live in Jordan is to help people get to know Jordan and the Middle East a little better. We haven't blogged much about the sites and attractions of the country during our two years here but there are many, and we have decided to start drawing some attention to them here. Just call it our small part in helping to boost tourism in Jordan, which is the number one industry of the country and somewhat of a lifeline for the economy.

Seriously--although we do not love everything about living here--we do think there are many things to like about Jordan and many great things to see and experience for a traveller. So, expect periodic entries from now on dealing with the touristic possibilities of Jordan.

The first site we want to highlight is the Dead Sea, since we were just there recently with our friends Erin and Neeraj and their son Ezra who were kind enough to visit us from the States. The Dead Sea--known as the "Salt Sea" and the "Sea of Arabah" in the Bible--is located in the Jordan Valley and is the lowest place on earth, about 1300 feet or 400 meters below sea level. It is referred to as dead because there is nothing that lives or can live in it, due to the high salt content of the water, which is around 30 percent. This is about ten times as much as the salt content of the oceans of the world, and about twice much as the Great Salt Lake in Utah.

Such high salt content means that the Dead Sea is not where you want to go for a refreshing dip to escape the heat of a summer's day in the valley. Dunking your head into the water will cause debilitating, paralyzing pain when you open your eyes. Also, any major or minor cut on your body will be brought to your attention immediately when your body hits the water, and you will at once totally understand the significance and meaning of pouring salt in someones wounds.

However, such high salt content does mean that the Dead Sea is where you want to go if you just want a carefree, relaxing, and one of a kind float atop the water. The Dead Sea is unique because you cannot sink in it; the salt keeps you afloat in any position. It is because of this that I love going there, as to me you cannot beat the feeling of near weightlessness you experience while floating effortlessly over the sea. In fact, when we went last time I spent an hour alone just drifting--hands behind my head and feet pointing out of the water in front of me--not just physically on top of the water, but also mentally between a quiet pondering of the intricacies of life and a state of semi-conscious napping. I recommend trying it, but don't forget your sunblock. Here are some pictures of our time there.

A word of caution on the way to the Dead Sea.

Neeraj and I floating.

Israel/Palestine in the background.

Near the shore.

Somebody enjoying a smoke while encased in Dead Sea mud, which is good for the skin.

Sunset, with the buildings of Jerusalem becoming visible on top of the mountain in the distance.

Easter in Jordan Part II, or Happy Egg

2008-04-30T22:57:00.009+03:00

Writing about Easter the other day reminded me of a story a friend of mine told me last year. It's not a long story, but to me quite funny, and also indicative of how little many Muslims here know about the Christians who live amongst them.

According to my friend, two years ago on Easter he wanted to wish his Christian friend a good Easter. Being a Muslim, however, he was apparently unsure of exactly how to do that, as he proceeded to say to his friend not "Happy Easter," or "Have a good Easter"--or something along those lines--but instead, "Happy Egg." He said after this his friend had a good laugh at him. I didn't catch if his friend then took the opportunity to tell him what Easter is all about, but I do know that he at least found out from him that "Happy Egg" is a dubious Easter salutation. It is, however, the thought that counts.

Easter in Jordan

2008-04-28T14:41:00.008+03:00

Yesterday was Easter here in Jordan. Since Easter occurred a month ago at home, this may surprise a lot of people who read this, but we celebrate Easter here according to the Orthodox calendar, which is different from the western calendar. Since Sunday is the first day of the work week here, Easter Sunday is, of course, different from Easter Sunday at home. Christians may have the day off--although not necessarily--but everyone else is working, or does whatever else they do on a regular day of the week. Also, at the most the population of Jordan is around 5 percent Christian, so very few people were actually celebrating the holiday.

Still, there were signs that Easter was being celebrated here. At 11 o'clock the night before we could hear the bells from a church ringing in the distance, calling worshippers to a pre-Easter, midnight service. As I sat in the windowsill, taking in the cool night air and enjoying the absence of almost any other sound, it was a simple, beautiful reminder of the coming of the day. Also, it is traditional here for Christians to visit their friends and family on Sunday after the Easter service and for one or two days afterwards, like Muslims do during their two Eids. We have several Christian families on our street, and as a result on Sunday we saw a steady stream of people outside our apartment making the rounds in their best clothes. At times we could hear them laughing or just talking loudly--cheerful sounds that we don't always hear on our street. This helped--along with the church bells--in a small way to give the day a festive, holiday atmosphere, at least in the area around our apartment.

Happy Easter From Jordan!

Mapping Amman

2008-04-23T23:13:00.009+03:00

Among the many things about Amman that struck me when we first moved here was a simple, yet extremely noticeable detail: the city had few street names and few actual addresses. This seemed strange to me--especially for a city of several million people--since I was coming from a city like Minneapolis, where every kind of street is named and which runs on a straight and easy grid pattern, making any destination easy to find if you just know the address. Because of the lack of street names and building numbers here, however, most destinations are not always so easy to find. Instead, if you want someone to find your home, for instance, you end up pointing people to the nearest large landmark, then to a certain falafal shop, then a certain number of streets, and so on. Or, to find someones home you have to navigate directions like those we were given below (some details have been taken out):

From _____ go under the tunnel toward _____. Continue straight through _____.
Take the first right (at a toy store).
Go through two stop signs. After the second, turn left at the next street.
Go until the road T's. Turn right.
Take the second left.
This is a dead end street--they are at the end--#____ on the right.
Their apartment is on the ____ floor--use the middle set of doors and head up the stairs.

Recently Annamarie ran into some German tourists near our apartment who asked her for directions to a certain restaurant. They were frustrated, as they couldn't find any reliable maps, and even if they could, they said, nobody they asked could tell them where the street was that they were looking for.

Perhaps, however, this is changing, as a few months ago big, blue numbers like this began appearing on buildings in many parts of Amman.

Then, new street signs like this one began appearing at intersections throughout Amman.

I don't know if these streets already had names but just weren't signed, or if they got names and signs at the same time. Whatever the case, it appears that in the future, navigating the city will be easier for me--and for German tourists.

Living Overseas 101

2008-04-13T18:07:00.004+03:00

"WE DO NOT NEED TO UNDERSTAND OTHER PEOPLE AND THEIR CUSTOMS FULLY TO INTERACT WITH THEM AND LEARN IN THE PROCESS; IT IS MAKING THE EFFORT TO INTERACT WITHOUT KNOWING ALL THE RULES, IMPROVISING CERTAIN SITUATIONS THAT ALLOW US TO GROW."
Mary Catherine Bateson, writer and cultural anthropologist

Presidential Politics in Jordan

2008-03-15T15:38:00.008+02:00

A few days ago I saw a short report on CNN discussing the views on the presidential race in the United States from people in various countries around the world. I can't remember all the countries from which CNN reported, but the theme was the same in each: the reporters believed most of the people in the country wanted either Hillary Clinton or Barack Obama to win, and they also didn't really know who John McCain was.

I found this report interesting because it exactly mirrored the opinions of everyone--and I do mean everyone--I know or have discussed the election with here. All of these people want Clinton to win--although they would accept an Obama victory--and very few know much about the Republican nominee or even know his name.

From the conversations I have had, this overwhelming affinity for Hillary Clinton and the Democrats in general seems to stem from two reasons. First, most of the people here really like Hillary's husband, Bill Clinton. Exactly why this is I am not sure, but it probably has something to do with his push to find a solution to the Palestinian-Israeli conflict. Most of this occurred late in his presidency, but I think most people here believe that his approach to the issue was more evenhanded than is George Bush's approach. Although one can debate the specifics of this point, it is at least a reasonable position to hold, unlike the position of one particular friend of mine, who told me he likes Bill Clinton because when he was president, "there were no wars in the world." Of course this position is not just debatable, it is not true.

This does bring me, though, to the second reason that Jordanians support Hillary Clinton for president, would accept an Obama victory and know next to nothing about John McCain. They know that Clinton is a Democrat, and that her main challenger in the general election will be a Republican, the same party as George W. Bush, whom they do not like. Most Jordanians see Bush as one who has created chaos in their part of the world with invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq, supported oppression by maintaining strong ties with Israel and yet is still perhaps willing to cause more chaos in the general region by invading Iran. He does not have a good name here, and as a result neither does his party. I supported decisions other than what the president made and continues to make regarding these issues, so I can agree with a lot of what people say here and believe that many of their opinions are again at least reasonable, debatable positions to hold. However, people here can be lead by their dislike of the president to hold some unreasonable and irrational positions and attribute too many of the problems in the world to him, such as my same friend, who believes all of the wars and war-like violent conflicts in the world currently being waged are the fault of the president--somehow even, he said, the war in Darfur, Sudan in which a Muslim government is fighting Muslim rebels and killing Muslim civilians.

Whatever their reasons--reasonable to me or not--the Jordanians I know hope Hillary Clinton is the next President of the United States. If she loses the Democratic nomination to Barack Obama, though, I'm sure they will then hope for an Obama victory. I'm also sure that over these next few months as election day in the United States nears, a lot of Jordanians will be almost as interested as I am to see what the outcome will be, and what that means for American policy in this part of the world.

Spring is Near

2008-03-03T14:52:00.015+02:00

Days here in Amman are starting to be longer and warmer. You can feel a change is coming and we are ready. Winters in Amman may not be as severe or long as they are in Minnesota but we find them harder somehow. Maybe because there are no outdoor activities here like cross-country skiing, quiet walks in Powderhorn Park after a fresh snowfall, sledding or broomball. Or it could be because the heating systems in most houses in Minnesota provide relief from the cold, which the heating systems here don't always do. This is especially noticeable on those days here when we can see our breath inside!

Spring in Jordan is my favorite season as the country that is normally dusty and brown blooms in color for a few weeks. The weather is nearly perfect--warm enough to relax in the sun but cool enough so that you aren't ready to run for shade after 10 minutes. Over the weekend the weather was warm and sunny--the beginning of spring in Amman--so we decided to go for a picnic. We packed a bag of warm pita and fresh hummus and went up to the Citadel, the site of the biblical city of Rabboth Ammon and the Greek and Roman city of Philadelphia which is located on a hill overlooking downtown Amman. We were greeted by some new friends who sat and talked with us and shared our food.

A Final Sudan Post

2008-03-01T18:22:00.017+02:00

While in Sudan we stayed with some friends in Um Durman, a city north of Khartoum just across the Nile River. All the homes there--and throughout the Khartoum area--had high mud walls all around them like the one behind the girl in this picture.

Two girls near our friends' house.

Annamarie washing her feet at the basin in our friends' courtyard. Many homes in the Khartoum area have basins like this in the area in front of the door to the house.

Matt pretending to help clean up the kitchen after lunch. Like all homes we saw, this kitchen was located in a separate area outside of the main part of the house.

The neighborhood dry cleaner.

Two men in a busy market in Um Durman.

We had the opportunity to visit several friends during our time in Sudan. After about an hour on the bus, this three-wheeled vehicle--the driver is inside--took us the rest of the way to the home of one friend in an area just south of Khartoum. We were told this particular town was the last place in the Khartoum area that had electricity.

Annamarie with another friend and her children at their home in another area outside of Khartoum.

A soccer match outside their house.

A woman selling Sudanese coffee and tea on the street in Khartoum. These women were everywhere, and we stopped every day for a drink.

Khartoum

2008-02-28T18:54:00.007+02:00

This is the main bus station in downtown Khartoum. We spent a lot of time here, as all city buses are directed to this station. We found Khartoum to be filled with buses, so much so that it is difficult to find any picture that we took of the city that does not include at least one bus in it.

Downtown Khartoum. Sudan is a dusty place, and a large percentage of the streets downtown are still dirt. Also, even some streets that were paved were overtaken by dirt.

Downtown, behind a group of women selling various wares. There were many women--mostly widows--throughout the city selling such things as spices, bread and coffee to support their families.

Dogs taking a break from the heat of mid-day. Wild dogs are were common sight wherever we went.

An outdoor barber shop, set against the wall of a building.

A mosque in downtown Khartoum.

Chickens hanging from the window of the bus next to us.

The Nile River, which cuts through Khartoum.

A market just outside of Khartoum.

Traffic jam.

Sudanese Impressions

2008-02-25T00:47:00.029+02:00

Two weeks in a country isn't nearly enough time to learn a lot about it, but we felt that after running around Khartoum for that amount of time we were able to get a decent sense of what life is like at least in the Khartoum area. It was also more than enough time for us to be impacted by some of the characteristics of the city that stood out to us and form some impressions that we will remember for quite some time.

First of all, Sudan is the first country we have visited that is not really a tourist destination. A lot of people, for instance, dream of visiting Egypt or Morocco--and even Jordan--but never have we heard anyone speak of a yearning to visit Sudan. We like to do a little bit of basic research before going anywhere, but there is no "Lonely Planet" Sudan travel guidebook, and surprisingly the Internet doesn't provide much information either. Even finding a map of Sudan--when we were in Sudan--was difficult. That Sudan is not a travel hot spot--and that the government doesn't seem to care that it isn't--in itself made our trip different from others we have taken.

Sudan is also the first country we have visited that can really be called "developing" in every sense of the word and which is developing in every part of the country. This is different from a country like Jordan, which still could perhaps be considered a developing nation, but only in parts of the country and not in major cities like Amman. Jordan may be lacking in some of the amenities that we are used to back home, but it is far ahead of Sudan in terms of things like standard of living and infrastructure, particularly in the two capital cities. Seeing this difference made us realize how much we have here, and how much easier life is here.

What else? We noticed that vehicular traffic in Khartoum wasn't bad for a city of 6 million people, which perhaps was so because most of those 6 million were instead walking. We did a lot of walking in Khartoum ourselves, and everywhere we went the streets were full of people walking. Mobs of people, walking everywhere--on some streets only occasionally disturbed by a car or truck--probably because most people there don't have vehicles. This continued after sunset and into the evening, at which time we were always further impressed by the strange experience of walking with thousands of other people in the downtown of a large capital city in the dark. Of course it wasn't pitch black--some shops had dim lamps and cars would occasionally drive by with lights on--but there were no street lights downtown, which meant that at night Khartoum turned very shadowy.

We were also struck by the number of dirt streets in Khartoum. Since Khartoum is a large capital city this was a surprise, especially coming from Amman, which is a fully concreted capital city where even the parks sometimes have more pavement than grass or dirt. Some of these dirt roads even had big potholes or random mounds of dirt that cars needed to maneuver around. Also, the city is so dusty that even some streets that were paved had been overtaken or were being overtaken by dirt, as if nature was reclaiming what people had tried to claim. To be sure, We did see many nice paved roads, but in the heart of downtown it seemed that there were more dirt streets than paved. These dirt roads definitely told us we were far from home.

Finally, we found Sudanese people generally to be friendly and open. We also found many to be quite tall. Relations between men and women also seemed to be a bit more free and relaxed than in Jordan. Men and women seemed to interact more together, and I even shook the hands of several women when greeting them, Muslims included. Not only that, but those women shook my hand in a manner that indicated it was not something they were doing for the first time, as I usually feel here on those rare occurrences when a woman extends her hand to greet me. So in the future whenever I think about our time in Sudan, I guess my dominant memory will be of a lot of tall, smiling people, walking everywhere, shuffling along sometimes on dirt roads, sometimes in the dark. They better know where they're going, because no maps are available.

Exploring Sudan

2008-02-11T19:51:00.000+02:00

Sunday afternoon we returned from a two week trip to Sudan; hence the break in our blog entries We spent our time there visiting Sudanese friends and trying to get a sense of what life is like for them--and others--there.

In terms of size, Sudan is the largest country in Africa, and according to the United Nations has a population of around 35 million. The Nile River flows through the capital city--Khartoum--which has a population of around 6 million (bigger than the entire population of Jordan).

In terms of religion, Sudan is about 70 percent Muslim, 25 percent various indigenous beliefs and 5 percent Christian. Although just 40 percent of Sudanese are Arabs, Arabic is the official language of the country, although 134 tribal languages are spoken, along with over 400 dialects. The northern region of Sudan is mostly Arab and Muslim, while the south is mostly populated by the various tribal groups who practice the indigenous religions or Christianity.

Sudan struggled through 21 years of civil war between the north and the south, although a peace agreement was signed in 2005. Of course, there is now war in the Darfur region in the west of the country--populated entirely by Muslims--which has gone on for about five years now. The people of Sudan have suffered a lot during these wars. It is estimated that over 2 million people died during the civil war, with 4 million displaced--including 500,000 who fled the country. Currently in Darfur, it is estimated that approximately 300,000 people have died, with over 2 million displaced from their homes. We spent all of our two weeks in the Khartoum area, where the only sign of all this fighting are the people who have moved there to escape it. However short our time and the little we saw of Sudan we are very grateful for the time we had to visit. We hope to share with you some of our experiences over the next few days and we will post more pictures from our time there as well!

Enjoying the Views

2008-01-26T18:01:00.000+02:00

Doors from Syria, Tunisia and Morocco
(The door Matt is standing in was used in the filming of Star Wars)

I Went walking on Wednesday and this is some of what we saw

Love Bombs

2008-01-21T12:14:00.000+02:00

The question is not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be...Martin Luther King Jr.

These days when the word extremist is used we tend to think of specific images associated with destruction, hatred and bigotry. But wouldn't it be great if when the word extremist is used we would think of extreme acts of love, peace, reconciliation and life instead of things related to violence and death?

This is a photo that we took last fall while we were back in Minneapolis for Matt's sister's wedding. If you really think about it dropping bombs changes lives but what an incredible idea to change lives through love. It isn't a new idea but one that continues to be difficult to actually execute in everyday interactions with people. We can only hope and pray that we will all be extremists who fight for justice and peace and who struggle to show acts of kindness to all. Dropping love bombs throughout our lives!

What kind of extremist are you?

Cold Jordan

2008-01-18T19:12:00.000+02:00

Here in Jordan we are experiencing what the overflowing water tanks on the rooftops of apartment buildings or water squeegeed out of those buildings on cleaning day. When I asked the guard shivering in his telephone booth sized shack outside the Turkish Embassy a few days ago if the weather was "a little cold", he aggressively responded--not in an angry but in an I-can't-believe-what-I'm-seeing way--"A little cold? Look at the street! There's ice on it!"

The buildings here aren't exactly made for this type of cold weather. Several days ago the pipe from one of our water tanks burst, sending a waterfall cascading down from the roof on to our back porch. The water was promptly turned off and the pipe fixed the next day, just in time for a different pipe from the same tank to develop a small tear, launching a sprinkler like stream into the air. That problem is still ongoing. Also, the temperature inside our apartment tends to hover around the same temperature as outside. There are many in Jordan that do not have heat. Most people, including us, use space heaters to keep warm. The rooms where the heat is on do get warm, but in the rooms where the heat is not on we can see our breath when we exhale (this makes it very hard to get out of bed in the morning!). Last week we visited some friends and while at their house we all sat in their salon on mats on the floor in the traditional Arab way, each one of us with two large, thick blankets covering us to keep warm. There we could easily see our breath, like we were all smoking and exhaling clouds of fumes as we talked between tokes. Some of my toes were actually frozen by the end of our time there.

Being from Minnesota we are of course used to living in cold weather. Most of the people here, though, are not, and I think right now there are a lot of people here who feel like that Turkish Embassy guard.

Even our cat is cold.

Cruising the Countryside

2008-01-11T22:21:00.000+02:00

George W. is Near

2008-01-10T20:38:00.000+02:00

As many of you know, George W. Bush is in the region this week, making his first visit to Israel/Palestine since becoming president in the hopes of helping to forge some kind of peace agreement between Israel and the Palestinians. One would think this would be big news here and cause for much hope. After all, this isn't Condoleezza Rice or some other lesser representative of the American government coming over for vaguely purposed "talks" or relationship building initiatives. This is the leader of the purported most powerful nation in the world finally deciding to push harder for peace by visiting the region just a few weeks after meeting with Arab leaders in America to push for peace there. He even said in Jerusalem--in reference to the land we in America call the West Bank and the Arabs call Palestine--that there must be "an end to the occupation that began in 1967," that there must be a home there for the Palestinian people.

However, while I haven't discussed Bush's visit with many people here, I am positive that most Jordanians--approximately 60 percent of whom are of Palestinian origin--are somewhat less than optimistic about it. Over the years, they have seen a lot of world leaders come and go and a lot of unimplemented agreements made. Just within this decade, there has been the end of the end of the seven year long "Oslo Peace Process," the European, American and United Nations backed "Road Map for Peace" and the Saudi Arabian sponsored "Arab Peace Initiative." I think the one friend I did discuss Bush's visit with--also Palestinian by origin--speaks for the majority of the people here. "There have been a lot of people coming and going, travelling, making speeches, talking, having meetings," he said. "I don't know what they talk about in those meetings." He doesn't expect much from all those meetings, and instead of exciting him or giving him hope, he is uninterested in them. "They are playing," he said. "We are bored."

A year ago today

2008-01-08T11:46:00.000+02:00

A man and his sheep in Sousse, Tunisia

PEACE in the MIDDLE EAST

2008-01-06T15:45:00.001+02:00

The Dead Sea in Jordan looking towards Jerusalem

Happy New Year!

2008-01-02T19:12:00.000+02:00

We started 2008 with days and nights of fun and laughter, enjoying a fun filled time with our dear friends visiting from Minnesota. We ate good Arabic food, enjoyed lots of coffee and yummy wine, laughed a ton and toured around Jordan a bit with them.
We hope that this year brings everyone continued joys of
laughter, love and hope.

Merry Christmas to All

2007-12-25T23:54:00.000+02:00

...and to all a good night!
Merry Christmas to everyone around the world from us here in Jordan.

Pilgrimage

2007-12-22T22:23:00.001+02:00

All Muslims who are physically and financially able are required to make the pilgrimage--Hajj in Arabic--to the city of Mecca in Saudi Arabia at least once in their lives. Mecca is the home of the holiest site in Islam--a shrine to God that Muslims believe was built by Abraham and his son Ishmael--and the pilgrimage to this site and others in the surrounding area coincides with Eid al-Adha, the Festival of Sacrifice mentioned in the previous post. This pilgrimage is obviously an essential aspect of the Islamic faith, and many Muslims take the title Hajji--one who has performed the Hajj--after completing it. Also, the household of those making the pilgrimage will decorate the front of their home to welcome them back from their journey, and also to announce to the neighborhood that someone in that particular home has completed this important duty. The above picture shows this decoration, which was recently put up by the family that lives below us in our building.

Eid al-Adha

2007-12-19T21:41:00.000+02:00

Eid al-Adha--the Feast of Sacrifice--started today in Jordan, and all across the Islamic world. The Eid is a four day holiday during which Muslims commemorate Abraham's sacrifice of the ram provided by God to replace Abraham's son, whom God had asked Abraham to sacrifice in order to test his faith. Although Christians and Jews believe this son to have been Issac, Muslims believe the son to have been Ishmael. It is during this time that Muslims make the pilgrimage to Mecca as well. During the three days all normal life in Jordan stops, and people put on their best clothes to visit their friends and family.

This is the scene in downtown Amman the night before the Eid, as many people were making last minute preparations, buying food, clothes and gifts.

It is traditional for families to slaughter a sheep as part of the holiday, and the above two pictures show a sheep being slaughtered on a street not far from where we live. In keeping with Islamic practice, the sheep must specifically be killed with the cut of a knife through the jugular vein while saying the words "In the Name of God", and all of the animal's blood must be drained--which you can see on the sidewalk--before it can be eaten. Although not everyone we know is doing it, it is a major part of the occasion. Last year we were in Morocco during the Eid, and everywhere we went we saw sheep being lead away for slaughter on all types of transportation--carts, trucks and even motorcycles. One of our friends here told us the way out of her neighborhood was blocked this morning by a long line of cars driven by people waiting to buy sheep in a lot nearby.

Eid Mubarak!
(Blessed Festival!)

The Lessons of Bab al-Harr

2007-12-12T20:38:00.000+02:00

This month I've been trying to finish watching online a Syrian mini-series called "Bab al-Harr" that played all throughout the Middle East and North Africa during this past Ramadan. It was played every night during the holiday, and it so captivated Jordanians that--in the words of a Jordanian friend of mine--when it was on you would "not find a person on the street." I too was captivated by it, with its portrayal of life and culture inside the old city walls of early 20th century Damascus, and I'm still watching it now because we left the country for a bit towards the end of Ramadan and I missed the last week or so of the show.

Much of the plot revolves around the family of a man called Abu Isaam, who--after a particularly nasty disagreement with his wife of many years--divorced her. Because of the cultural conditions of the time, this divorce set off a terrible chain reaction within the family, as the former wife was obliged to leave her home and move in with her brother, as--even if she had the means to do so--no honorable woman of the time would live by herself. Also, the father of the man who was engaged to the daughter of the divorced couple forced his son to call off the wedding, as no family of the time would want to be stained by the dishonor of divorce, even when just connected to a family being married into. The program skillfully depicts the social customs of the time, customs which are still in evidence today where we live. Yes, of course there are many differences between early 20th century Damascus and early 21st century Amman, and it is--as another Jordanian friend of mine said--"just TV." However, the overriding culture of honor and shame in which the requirements of the family are put first--as opposed (for better or worse) to the more individualistic nature of American society--remains the same. Also, it is possible to learn from a good book or a good movie, and even a good television show.

Something I ponder when I watch the show regards the male dominated nature of the society portrayed. Whenever anything controversial or important occurs on the screen, the men of the community all gather together to yell at each other, discuss or think about the problem at hand. Meanwhile, the women of the community sit around and wait for a decision or ruling to be made on an issue that may affect them, but on which they have no voice. Once a decision is made, the rest of the community must abide by it. This strikes me as simply a bad way to do life. To leave important discussions to one segment of society while excluding another segment of society from those discussions seems to me to not be the best way to make wise, informed decisions. Such an approach utilizes only part of the brain-power available in a community. Men and women are different, and sometimes have different ways of thinking, and leaving women out of a decision making process eliminates the possibility of hearing different attitudes and perspectives, and as a result short-circuits any potentially more creative solutions to a given problem.

This approach to problem solving is still noticeable in Jordanian society, and some women we know have lives that aren't as full as they could be because of decisions made for them by men in their lives. I also think, though, that it has by no means disappeared from my own American society. For instance, I see this still taking place in our current presidential election season, as some say that a woman--irrespective of her qualifications are lack thereof--should not be elected to the office of president. I also see this especially still taking place in the church, where women are still not welcomed into pastoral roles in many denominations and often shut out of various decision making processes, and are often told to be subordinate in their families.

But just like in the male only arena of Bab al-Harr, this strikes me as a bad way to do life. For a church to be lead only by a group of people from one segment of society, and for a family to rely on the man to lead and the woman to follow seems to me to not be the best way to make wise, informed decisions that are for the benefit and encouragement of all. The church--like society--consists of both men and women, and as such should be lead by both men and women. A family should rely on the leadership of both of the people who--in the words of the author of Genesis--"united" to "become one flesh." Shutting women out simply because they are women--regardless of their ability to lead or provide a different perspective or creative outlook on a certain situation--seems to shut out the possibility of obtaining the best solution to a problem or situation for growth. So many times in Bab al-Harr what the men decide for the group ends up causing pain or more trouble. Yes, it is just TV, but it does mirror what actually happens in Jordanian society and even, to some extent, what happens in American society. I think a complete inclusion of those still not entirely allowed to be part of decision making processes--while not ultimately bringing about perfect solutions or situations--will create a situation where better, more equitable and more human decisions are possible.

Cat Attack

2007-12-09T22:22:00.000+02:00

In a past post we wrote about the ubiquitous presence of street cats here, as they can be seen running around everywhere kind of like squirrels at home. We live on the second floor of our building, and occasionally one makes its way to the rooftop built over the garden terrace of the apartment below us, giving it a perfect view right into our apartment. After making the climb up the other day, this particular street cat apparently found our street cat turned house cat quite mesmerizing, enough so that we were able to snap this picture before it got scared and ran away.

Elections in Jordan

2007-12-06T22:07:00.000+02:00

Jordan recently held parliamentary elections. It seemed to be quite hotly contested, as there were almost 900 candidates for the 110 seats, and campaign signs and banners and large posters bearing their awkwardly smiling faces were posted all over Amman in the month or two before the vote. Of the nearly 900 candidates, 199 were women. By law, of the 110 seats 12 are reserved for Christian and Circassian candidates, and 6 for the top women candidates. Probably the biggest news once the results were known was that the political wing of the Muslim Brotherhood fared poorly, with the number of seats they hold dropping from 17 to 6.

Unfortunately--despite the large number of candidates--the disposition towards the election of most of the people we know was something between apathy and disdain. Some felt people were just running for the prestige of the position, and others said the winners would turn their backs on the people once they took their seat. Many people talked beforehand about some candidates actually going door to door and buying votes, saying it had happened in the past. At least, though, if they wanted to vote, they really had no excuse not to, as election day here is a national holiday. Whatever the case, it was interesting to observe the democratic process here.

Simple Differences

2007-11-14T13:55:00.000+02:00

America and Jordan are two very different places. Recently we travelled home for my sister's wedding, and after almost 18 months away we were already struck by certain differences even before landing back in Minneapolis. There are larger, more substantial and important cultural differences than these below, but these were our immediate impressions that were formed just from the long journey home.

First, in America there are lines! Here in Jordan, there is no such thing as a line. Whether you are at the post office or waiting to order a shawarma, you must constantly be on your guard, fighting to keep your position amongst a mob of people waiting for you to lose focus enough to slip by you. Once at the bus station in the clamor to board a bus that just arrived we witnessed a group of men jumping up the side of the bus and climbing through the open windows to skip the line waiting to get in through the front door and ensure their spot inside. In opposition to this, when we arrived in Chicago everyone calmly made their way from the plane to the immigration area, and then quietly marched back and forth through the aluminum railing maze that brought us to passport control. For us, the environment there at the airport was eerily calm, and we both marvelled at the stark contrast compared to what we knew would be happening in a similar situation where we had just flown from.

Also, we observed that Americans are a casual people. This we noticed specifically on the short flight from Chicago to Minneapolis, where we saw a lot of blue jeans, t-shirts and white sneakers on people young and old. This actually fit the apparel perception that Jordanians seem to have of Americans, as it has been remarked more than once to us that Americans are viewed as what they call "simple" dressers. In opposition to this, here people dress more formally. Adults almost never wear jeans, and although young men sometimes do, they are usually of the darker and tighter variety, and never worn out or with holes. In fact, pants with holes in them are rare enough that when the jeans I was wearing when we were in Syria developed a small tear, somebody asked me if I needed money for new pants. Young men also often wear a buttoned shirt and wing tipped shoes with their darker, tighter jeans. No t-shirts, no white shoes. As a result of this, it was really a jolt to both of our sensibilities to see such a sea of denim on the airplane. It's nothing that we ever would have noticed before, but we notice it now.

Clouds in the Desert

2007-10-01T19:08:00.000+03:00

The other day a friend of ours told us that when she and her four year old son walked outside he looked up at the sky and began to cry. She asked him what was wrong and he said, "What are those white things in the sky mom?" She had to remind him that they were clouds! It has been a while since we have seen clouds here in Jordan, and when you live in a country that has clear blue skies at least six months out of the year, it is nice to see them. Even if they are kind of scary at first!

Summer of Guests

2007-09-14T21:02:00.000+03:00

It's been a long time since we've posted anything on this blog. We've had a very busy summer, capped off by almost 2 months of non-stop guests and now we have started our 3rd semester in language school. Annamarie's parents came for three weeks, and while they were here some friends of ours and their toddler came for a week. Finally, after everyone had left a Sudanese family from our church here came after Sudan Air cancelled their flight back to Sudan on the night they were supposed to fly home. After 12 days, they did fly home, but not without a lot of drama imposed on all of us by the airline. The details of that drama may perhaps be the subject of a later post.

This post, though, instead deals with the effects of all those guests on the water supply in our apartment. You see, water is in short supply in this mostly desert nation. Each housing unit has a metal tank--usually two by four meters in size and found on the roof of the building--in which the water for that housing unit is stored. The government pumps water into these tanks once each week, and if you run out before your "water day", you just have to wait. We have had to adjust to doing our cleaning and laundary once a week but that isn't such a big deal. Although sometimes the flow of the water being pumped is blocked, and sometimes in the summer months less water is pumped in, receiving water just once per week is usually not a problem for us.

This was a problem, though, during our period of guests. For a month we had between four and seven people here, meaning we had to make a concerted effort to conserve our water. This meant sharing flushes, growing a closet full of dirty laundry, leaving dirty dishes occasionally (not so bad) and taking infrequent showers (sometimes bad). Even with all of this, though, we still ran out twice and used nearly every drop in the tank another time. Certainly making the extra effort to save all the water possible is not the greatest hardship one can experience in life - at least we have water! Once everyone left, we flushed at will, did all of our laundry, washed all those dirty dishes and showered two days in row. Back to normal. It is something worth mentioning, though, just because it is one of the many differences between our homeland and our home now.

The tanks on our roof getting water - and overflowing! Although water is scarce there is a lot of waste.

Matt and Amanda utilizing some reserve water for washing.

Mosaic

2007-08-05T11:52:00.000+03:00

I have wanted to make these cool mosaics for a long time and finally my good friend Holly told me how it was done. This was just a practice but I thought I would share some pictures of animals from around the Middle East - the one eating spiderman lives with us!

A Jordanian Christian Wedding

2007-07-30T13:46:00.000+03:00

We have been in the village of Simakiyya for just a few weeks and have had an amazing experience and made lots of friends. We have been welcomed so warmly by the people there and have been busy every day visiting people. These visits always include some food and we have been eating spectacular meals of chicken and rice, grape leaves and squash stuffed with rice and lamb, and drinking mint tea full of sugar and so much coffee that we are both in heaven! So, it was no surprise that this weekend when a wedding was happening we were invited.

Weddings here are a two day affair. The night before the ceremony there is a sahar--which literally means visiting into the late hours. Everyone is invited to a party that starts around 7 in the evening and lasts until the wee hours of the morning. It usually happens outside under big colorful tents, and a full dinner is served. For this sahar a tent was placed in the church courtyard, and the meal began with appetizers of mixed nuts, hummus, tabbouleh, olives and other yummy middle eastern dips. Then a chicken and rice dish was served, followed by a dessert. There were fireworks blasted from the roof above us--the shards floated down into our hair and food--and singing and dancing.

Matt sitting under the tent.

The next day is the wedding ceremony. However, before the actual ceremony a big lunch of the national dish--mansef--is served. For this wedding this happened under the tents where we had the party the previous evening. Mansef is seasoned rice piled high on a huge circular tray with lamb meat on top--including the head of the lamb pointed straight up in the middle--with thin, hot yogurt poured over everything. Everyone eats from the same tray and you eat with your right hand, forming the rice and meat into a ball and popping it into your mouth. Some people used spoons--especially those who have moved from the countryside to Amman (and Matt)--but everyone was so happy to see Annamarie eating with her hand. It is very HOT and sometimes hard to get rice and a piece of lamb balled up in your hand and to flip it into your mouth, but it is fun and so delicious.

The hot yogurt being poured over the mansef.

After the meal everyone goes home for a few hours to rest and change clothes, and than the ceremonies start. The bride is at her home dressed and ready for the ceremony with her family. Usually this means that she spent most of the day at the beauty salon getting ready and therefore wasn't at the lunch. During this time a large group follows the groom back to his house, where he is hoisted on the shoulders of someone strong and literally dressed for the wedding. In the midst of drumming and the singing of traditional songs, the clothes he wore to the lunch are taken off and his wedding suit is put on. Some of the songs even have to do with exactly which type of clothing is being put on at the moment.

After all of this, the groom and his family go to the bride's house, singing and clapping as they arrive. The bride's family escorts her out of the house and the groom takes her to the church in the most expensive car they can find, which is covered with flowers on the hood and the trunk. Other people going to the wedding follow the car through the streets to the church--honking and singing along the way. Once the couple is at the church they are met outside by everyone and the men sing and play drums as the couple enter. The ceremony then takes place and they are married.

We had a great time celebrating with everyone!

The bride leaving her home to get married.

The men singing and drumming to the bride and groom - they are inside the circle of people.

The groom and bride right before they entered the church for the wedding ceremony.

Simakiyya

2007-07-28T18:13:00.000+03:00

The past two weeks or so we've been living in a small village of about 2,000 people about two hours south of Amman called Simakiyya. We were helping out with a children's camp being held at a church there. Simakiyya is located on the edge of the desert in central Jordan and is the only entirely Christian village in the country. The residents--who are predominantly members of two tribes--are part of either the Melkite Greek Catholic Church or the Latin Catholic Church, with only the latter being under the influence of the Roman Catholic Church. Our camp was held at the Latin Catholic Church, and the two churches stand practically side by side in town.

The village was only established around 100 years ago, as until then the people were nomadic Bedouin who herded their flocks of goats and sheep in the area and lived in tents. Since settling, the people started farming wheat and other grains. They also continue to raise goats and sheep, some people with pens right outside their homes. Although on the edge of the desert--and brown and dusty now--the surrounding area was a pleasant and surprising green when we first visited in April. Below are some pictures of the village.

A house in the middle of the village.

A view of the village from the rooftop of a friend. You can see the hills of the desert in the background.

Matt and a friend from Amman--who also worked at the camp--walking on a street in the village as a local bus makes a stop.

A gate at an entrance to a house. The cross is something you don't see very often here in Jordan.

A view of the village from the roof of our apartment building.

The Latin Catholic Church.

Wonder of the World

2007-07-08T16:09:00.000+03:00

Last night Petra was announced as one of the new Seven Wonders of the World. In a year long campaign in which votes from around the world were registered online and via mobile phone, it received the second highest number of votes, behind only the Great Wall of China. The other new wonders are Chichen Itza, Mayan ruins in Mexico; a 105 foot tall statue of Jesus that overlooks Rio de Janeiro, Brazil; the Roman Colosseum; Machu Picchu, Incan ruins in Peru; and the Taj Mahal in India.

There has been a lot of publicity here the past few months to get people to vote for Petra, and last night there were live, televised celebrations around Amman and in Petra itself celebrating it being named a wonder. This meant there were lots of fireworks and gunshots piercing the night air here when the results were announced. It seems that this is a designation that a lot of people here really wanted to receive and it was fun to be part of the celebration!

But what is Petra? A city over 2000 years old, Petra is sometimes called the "rose-red city" because it was carved into red sandstone rock in the desert about three hours south of Amman. The inhabitants were the Nabateans--Arabs who lived in Jordan during pre-Roman times and who made the city their capital. Petra remained hidden from the outside world until it was rediscovered in 1812, and it is said that just 5% of Petra has been excavated so far, so there is still so much more to be discovered.

We've been to Petra a number of times, and for us it never gets old and never ceases to amaze us. So, we're ready to be tour guides for any of our friends who want to come and say they have been to see Petra, one of the newest wonders of the world!

Green Space

2007-06-17T21:51:00.000+03:00

Lately I have started to get stir crazy in the house and realized that I have really been missing the outdoors. Coming from Minneapolis, I would run or walk to the four parks with lakes within 15 blocks of our house at least four times a week. BUT here in Amman such outings in nature are just impossible. There are "parks" but they usually exist in the middle of an intersection and that to me does not count as a park.

So I have tried to start walking every night BUT that seriously is risky for various reasons. First, the obvious is the cultural issue. There aren't tons of people that exercise here on the streets, let alone women. Matt has gone walking with me a few times and I usually don't have many problems when he is around but without him it is a different story. It is crazy what grown men will yell out of their cars to you! The second issue is traffic. Amman is an ever growing city - currently it is estimated that between 3.5 and 5 million people live in Amman. This is a city that just 20 years ago was only a million! So, the increase in people and cars has seriously impacted where one can walk and not feel like they are on a highway. So I have come to realize that living in the desert is something that is hard to get used to when you are used to surroundings like these:

Just for fun!

2007-06-17T01:12:00.000+03:00

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

40 Year Anniversary

2007-06-10T23:28:00.000+03:00

Today marks the 40 year anniversary of the end of the 1967 Middle East War--also called the Six Day War--in which Israel fought against Jordan, Syria and Egypt. All week long the BBC, CNN, Al-Jazeera and local newspapers here have been commemorating this war and its effect and consequences on the region. For Jordan the consequences have been great. Around 350,000 people fled to Jordan from the other side of the Jordan River because of the war. Added to the refugees from wars prior to and after this, they form part of a Palestinian refugee population of nearly two million here in Jordan. Many of these people still live in one of the 10 Palestinian refugee camps here, although many others live outside of the camps and have comfortable lives.

One thing all the news coverage on the war has done for me this past week is provide me with some context for many of the stories I've been told or experiences I have had during our time in Jordan. For instance, the three men who installed our satellite dish last year all hail from the Baqaa refugee camp, which was established 40 years ago for Palestinian refugees from the 1967 war. None are over 40 years old, so they were all born there. This camp is just outside of Amman, and it used to be necessary to drive past it to reach certain tourist destinations in the north. You still can, but now it is not necessary, as the government has built a nice, new road to those same places, far away from this camp. The cynics among us think it was built so the big tourist buses--and anyone else--could avoid driving past such an unpleasant sight.

Another man I know came to Amman from the West Bank--at that point part of Jordan--for college at some point before the war. Before he finished his studies, though, the war started--and ended--and Israel was suddenly the governing authority of his homeland. He couldn't go back, and he hasn't been back since. Going away for college turned into a lifetime. Also, for many people here, 1967 was just one of several times they were uprooted from their homes due to a war. A taxi driver we know, for example, fled the West Bank in 1967 to Kuwait. Then, he fled with his family to Jordan in 1991 during the first Gulf War. Also, I once met a man who worked at a shawarma stand who actually fled from three different wars, first as a child to the West Bank during the Israeli War of Independence in 1948, then to Kuwait because of the 1967 war and then to Jordan in 1991 because of the Gulf War. Finally, we've met many people who are originally from Jerusalem, people who were among those who fled during the war that has been recollected so many times this week.

The images we've seen on television this week have been sometimes grainy, the color dull and dim. The 40 year old commentary from Israeli, Arab and other news sources that is sometimes played alongside these images has that tin can quality of historical documentaries. For a long time I've known about the 1967 war, but watching this coverage all week has helped bring to life the stories I've heard from people here. Or maybe the stories I've heard have helped bring to life the coverage on the news. Either way, what happened 40 years ago has become less grainy to me this week.

A Needed Break in the Mediterranean

2007-06-05T23:54:00.000+03:00

Last week we finally took a break from the Middle East and travelled to Cyprus, an island nation in the Mediterranean Sea just 45 minutes by plane from Jordan. It was our first foray out of the Middle East/North Africa region in our year here. Cyprus is a break from the Middle East because it is a European nation, and as such it is a tiny bit more like home and has a much less conservative culture than Jordan. For one week we wiped the dust off of our shorts and Annamarie's skirts and tank tops, relaxed on the beach, held hands in public, interacted with members of the opposite sex and were the focus of no one's attention because of our blond hair, white skin, nationality or Matt's beard. It was quite noticeable that no one paid any attention to us on the street, and when one becomes accustomed to being the daily object of much attention, the lack of any attention is striking. We were just tourists in a place filled with tourists.

Cyprus is not all European, though; it is a little Middle Eastern as well. Although southern Cyprus is Greek speaking, the northern half of the island is Turkish speaking, the result of the Turkish invasion of Cyprus in 1974. As a result, the capital of Cyprus--Nicosia--is the only remaining divided capital in the world. We visited Nicosia several years ago and there is a wall right down the center of the city. This division of the island is of course still being disputed today. For more information about this history, click here.

We were too busy relaxing to take many pictures, but here's us relaxing at a cafe in Cyprus.

Our Fake War Zone

2007-05-27T18:53:00.000+03:00

A few weeks ago work began on the street near our language school to turn it into a pedestrian only thoroughfare. For the first part of this venture, big machines were brought in to pound into pieces the existing pavement--which was then hauled away--leaving behind a gravel road with piles of rubble strewn about. We walk on this rocky road every day--as do many other people--and several people we know have commented that it reminds them of walking through a war zone, that it looks like an area that has been bombed. In reality it looks nothing like a war zone; real war zones are much, much worse.

Below is a picture of our street, followed by pictures of streets that have been bombed in Baghdad and in Beirut last summer. The pictures are the closest in appearance that we could find to our street, meaning that they are pictures that actually show the least amount of damage that we could find. Pictures of much more incredible damage and grisly scenes of death can be found without much effort--these are the real war zones.

The street near our school

Baghdad

Beirut

Day of Sand

2007-05-13T21:06:00.000+03:00

In Jordan there are spring showers and spring sandstorms. On Friday morning we woke up to a sandstorm, which as the day wore on, steadily decreased our ability to see the buildings around us. As the sand blew in we shut our apartment windows to keep out the sand--although we forgot about the bathroom window, which meant that enough sand fell in to the bathtub to slow the drain the next time it was used. The sandstorms here usually come west from Africa, and in the springtime they are called "Khamseeni Winds", which--since Khamseen is Arabic for fifty--refers to the roughly fifty days of sand blowing in from Africa that occurs each spring. When it does come in heavy like on this particular day, cars outside and furniture inside get coated with a thin layer of dust. Also, when you are outside, sometimes you can feel the dust pricking your skin.

The Beard Divide

2007-04-21T22:25:00.000+03:00

I have a blond, shaggy beard, with short, prickly hair that doesn't always lay in the position I would like. Occasionally I wish it was thicker--the hair is a bit patchy in some spots--but it is thick enough to be the subject of much interest with many people I come across here. This is because facial hair has great symbolic value in this part of the world, as for many Muslims, big, shaggy beards are seen as a sign of religiosity. As a result of this, Muslims I meet routinely ask me--because of my beard--if I am a Muslim. From taxi drivers, kids on the street, or strangers in a shop, the question is the same: "Inta (are you a) Muslim?"

The beard is such a symbol of religiosity that sometimes people even ask me if I am a "sheik"--a Muslim religious leader. Occasionally people will skip past asking me if I am a Muslim and go straight to "Inta (are you a) sheik?" Also, every so often someone will refer to me as "sheik." Once on the street I heard a group of young boys chatting enthusiastically about me, wondering amongst themselves if indeed I was a sheik.

Here in this culture, then, my shaggy--at times unkempt--beard is generally a positive thing. Even when I tell people I am a Christian, I have the sense that the beard still provides me with some sort of religious credibility--and religion is very important here--since it makes me look, in a general sense, religious. A person may not know anything about me--nothing about how I live my life or how I treat others--but they see I have a beard and they think I must be a pious, religious person. Okay, I may not be a Muslim, but to many, the beard means that I am still someone to be respected in the religious sense.

Recently, however, I discovered for the first time a kind of beard divide here in Jordan, a divide I noticed when we visited a small Christian village with a friend last week. This village--located in the Karak region about two hours south of Amman--has a population of about 2000 people. It is the only purely Christian village in Jordan; there are two churches there, and no mosques.

I was warned beforehand that the people of this village might have a slightly different attitude towards my beard than most of the people in Amman. Since they too saw bushy beards as Islamic symbols, they might--I was told--look at me with a bit of suspicion instead of immediate respect. As it happened, this warning was right on target. Not long after our arrival I had to answer the nervous questions of a little boy who wondered if I was a Muslim. When we went out to two wedding parties later in the evening--in stark contrast to Amman--I saw mustaches, but no beards. Clean shaves seemed to be a priority, and I felt a little self-conscious about my facial hair. Finally, right before we were about to leave, we stopped to visit one last family that our friend knew. When we entered the home, the family greeted us, and as our friend chatted with them, their little boy of maybe three years old pointed at my face and said "Mamnuuwa," which means "prohibited" or "not allowed." He said it twice more before we left.

Wherever we go here, it seems my beard engenders much discussion. I wonder what people are saying about my long hair.

Easter in Jordan

2007-04-10T21:50:00.000+03:00

Easter in Jordan is somewhat of a subdued occasion. Of course there aren't a ton of Christians here, and the holiday doesn't have the same festive gift giving connotation as does Christmas to warrant more attention from local Muslims or businesses here. This lack of attention probably leads to some ignorance here regarding what Easter is actually about, as seen by my friend who recently admitted to wishing his Christian friend a "Happy Egg" last Easter.

Part of how Christians celebrate Easter here is similar to how Muslims here celebrate the end of Ramadan, namely by visiting all of their friends and relatives, drinking coffee and eating sweets. The official visiting period lasts from Easter Sunday until the following Sunday. The picture above is of a Catholic church near the home of some friends we visited this week.

Snow Day

2007-03-19T22:33:00.000+02:00

That's right, it snowed here in Amman last week. Big, white flakes fell from the sky for most of the day, and although most of it melted soon after it hit the ground, school was cancelled and we had an extra day at home. In fact, most of the cars on our block didn't move all day, probably meaning most of our neighbors stayed home too. The picture above shows the results of our day of snow, and although it is pretty meager from our Minnesota standards, it was enough to disrupt the normal rhythm of life here, and even enough to provide us with a little bit of extra excitement.

Wild Cats

2007-03-03T16:10:00.000+02:00

I recently read an article in our hometown newspaper about the large and increasing number of wild cats in the metropolitan area of Minneapolis and St. Paul. According to the article, studies show that between half a million to a million such cats are roaming the area, creating nuisance issues and potentially spreading disease. The article even told the story of one such wild cat that entered a women's home and, when discovered, took a swipe at her. Oh my! The article went on to discuss the solutions being bandied about for the resolution of the problem, which included bringing the cats to animal shelters to give away or, if they were not taken, to euthanize; trapping, neutering and then releasing them; or just shooting them. It didn't say if there would be a "cat season" or not.

This got me thinking about our own wild cat problem here in Amman. Here, cats roam every street like packs of wild dogs, dig for leftover food in garbage cans, sleep on abandoned furniture or empty dirt lots, produce new offspring several times each year, and occasionally disturb the peace with their fighting. They're like squirrels in Minnesota in their ubiquity, except with much more personality. No matter how wild they are, when you walk by them they seem to look at you longingly--occasionally meowing--hoping for a bit of human contact, but deep down, knowing that they should probably keep their distance. Also, since--like snowflakes--no one cat looks exactly like another, you start to recognize the various cats on your street, notice the new ones that sometimes come along, and wonder where the old ones are if you haven't seen them for a few days. Anyway, there are a lot of cats here. A lot.

So I wondered exactly how many wild cats we have here, and did an internet search to see if I could find out. Needless to say, however, there was no such information available online. I guess that's not surprising. There were a few blogs from various people here on the subject, but I doubt that any study has been done to determine the number of wild cats living in the city.

A cat on the dumpster outside our apartment.

Church Attack in Sudan

2007-02-27T23:08:00.000+02:00

Recently we found out that the Anglican Cathedral in Khartoum, Sudan was attacked by police during the New Year's Eve service two months ago. We learned about this not from a newspaper report, the BBC or the internet, but from our friend, who had gone home to Sudan from Jordan to spend Christmas with his family for the first time in six years--and who just happened to be in the church when the attack happened.

First, he said, two canisters of tear gas were fired into the front veranda of the church. Then, the police stormed into the church and fired two more. Finally, as the 500 or so people inside were panicking, they fired still two more. Our friend was sitting in the front of the church near the pulpit--although he usually would sit in the back, he said--where everyone of course rushed to escape the gas. Those in the front, he said, scrambled to open the doors to the outside there, taking care to make sure the crowd left the building in single file to avoid trampling. In the end several people incurred only minor injuries--although according to our friend one person needed to have his hand amputated because of major burns incurred. A canister did land near the Christian vice-president of the country who was in attendance, and our friend had to spend some time wiping away the tears produced by the gas.

According to our friend, the official explanation from the police for this attack--an explanation confirmed in this article--was that a fight had broken out near the church in which someone was stabbed. The stabber--according to the police--then ran into the church, and the police followed. Our friend believes the story was made up--an excuse to attack the church. After all, he said, no stabber was ever found, nor was any stabbing victim, something relayed in an article on this Christian news website. Even if the incident in question really did occur, storming the church with tear gas in order to flush out the attacker seems to be a bizarre tactic. Of course, in researching this attack online we discovered that similar attacks by the police on Christians in Khartoum have taken place in the past, one of which is detailed here in this release from Amnesty International.

The Bishop of Khartoum discussed the attack in a statement to other Anglican churches around the world. The incident is a reminder of the tenuous position of Christians in Sudan, and--along with the past destruction of the south during the long civil war and the current pillaging of the people and places of Darfur in the west--is another example of the obstinacy of the Sudanese government. It is also probably another reason why so many of our Sudanese friends here say that going home from Jordan--a country with its own challenges--will be a difficult transition.

Tunisia: Kairouan and Tunis

2007-02-04T16:22:00.000+02:00

After finishing in Gabes, we began the final portion of our North African journey. From Gabes we took a louage--a mini-van taxi with seven or eight passengers--back to Sfax, and from there we rode another louage about two hours to Kairouan, a city west of Sousse in north central Tunisia. We had heard a lot about these louages during our short time in Tunisia regarding the speed of their drivers and their accident rate, but we had no problems. At one point during the ride to Kairouan I did wake up from a nap and notice the van was really bouncing because of our speed and perhaps the erratic driving of our driver, but instead of worrying I just decided to go back to sleep.

Kairouan has a population of about 120,000 and is one of the holiest cities in Islam. Founded in the late seventh century, it is the oldest Islamic settlement in Tunisia, and has the oldest mosque in North Africa, with the world's oldest minaret. Like most other cities we visited on our trip, Kairouan has an old city surrounded by walls as well. Although the original walls of the city were built in the late eighth century, most of the current walls are from the 18th century. We spent one night here.

Finally, the last part of our journey was spent in Tunis, the capital of Tunisia, where we arrived after a four hour louage trip from Kairouan. The population of Tunis is about 700,000, and it of course includes an old city, which was founded in the late seventh century not long after the Arab conquest of the area. Tunis had a European flavor as well, with a long, pedestrian friendly main boulevard lined with sidewalk cafes and restaurants filled with people. From Tunis we took day trips to the picturesque seaside village of Sidi Bou Said--which actually had a Greek island type feel--and the ruins of Carthage, an ancient city where the important Christian theologian Augustine lived for a time.

After all this, it was finally back to Amman.

A gate into the old city of Kairouan.

Carpets hanging from a shop in Kairouan. The city is the carpet capital of Tunisia.

An alleyway in Kairouan, and another biker.

Rows of Fez--the national headgear of Tunisia.

A synagogue in Tunis. Tunisia still has a tiny Jewish community.

A group of women in Tunis.

A statue from the museum in Carthage.

Annamarie posing in Carthage.

Looking out to the Mediterranean Sea in Sidi Bou Said.

A cat sleeping outside a doorway in Sidi Bou Said.

Tunisia: The Desert Drive

2007-02-03T22:32:00.000+02:00

From Gabes we rented a car and spent two days driving further south and west, making our way to the edge of the Sahara desert before heading back to Gabes. On our first day we drove south through a rocky desert landscape dotted with palm trees, small brush and the occasional oasis, distinguished by a small island of green surrounded by the sea of brown around it. The region is heavily populated by Berbers--the original, indigenous inhabitants of North Africa before the Arab invasions--and we also drove past and to many old Berber fortresses and villages for which the area is famous. The picture above is of a Ksar--a fortified Berber granary--examples of which are found throughout the region.

Since this part of Tunisia was used for the filming of parts of the Star Wars films, our trip included visiting two sites that were used, and which have now become destinations in themselves. This involved driving through the town of Tataouine--also the name of the home planet of Luke Skywalker--and then spending the night in the village of Matmata in his boyhood home, which was a Berber home and is now a very low budget hotel. We wouldn't recommend staying there, though, as the facilities were shabby and somewhat gross. As Annamarie said, they don't have too much incentive to keep it nice, "because they know that dorks like us will come anyway."

From Matmata we drove to the town of Douz, located on the edge of the Sahara desert. Most of the trip consisted of driving in a straight line through more rocky desert, until the hard topography grew progressively more sandy as we drew closer to Douz. Douz itself is an oasis--the largest in Tunisia--with nearly half a million palm trees. We spent our day there exploring the town, eating lunch and riding camels just a bit into the Sahara. Then we drove back to Gabes.

The sign at the city limits of Tataouine, a city of 60,000 that is also the name of Luke Skywalker's home planet.

A Berber stronghold. With the exception of the white mosque in the middle--a recent addition--the buildings all blend in with the surrounding rock.

The courtyard of Luke Skywalker's home, with various movie props still in place. It was at one time the courtyard of a Berber home. There are rooms all around the open space in the middle--all dug into the rock--and large tunnels that connect this courtyard area to two other similar courtyard areas.

A room on the perimeter of the courtyard.

The tomb of a marabout--a local Islamic leader--in Matmata.

Riding camels just a tiny bit into the Sahara desert from Douz.

The sands of the Sahara.

A collection of "desert rose"--a compacted crystallization of various minerals--which is found in the desert.

On our drive from Douz back to Gabes we encountered a herd of about 50 camels being led towards the road. This picture was taken as they finally approached the road to cross it, passing right by us as we stood and watched.

A camel crossing in front of our car.

Tunisia: Sousse, Sfax and Gabes

2007-01-31T21:40:00.000+02:00

We spent our first week in Tunisia at a conference in Sousse, a resort city of about 160,000 people on the Mediterranean coast about 90 minutes south of Tunis, the capital of Tunisia. We didn't see much of Sousse outside of our hotel, but we did make two short day trips in the area. We also didn't spend any time on the beach because of the colder winter weather, although the sun-starved, red skinned Britains in our hotel in their bikinis and shorts didn't seem to mind.

From Sousse we rode the train two hours south to Sfax, a city of nearly 300,000 and the second largest in Tunisia. Sfax is known for its old, walled city--parts of which date back to the middle of the ninth century--which is called the "finest living and working medina" in the country by our guidebook. We would probably agree with that assessment. It's not famous like Marrakesh or Fes, but it had intriguing, narrow alleyways crowded with Sfaxians, large, impressive walls and a real lack of tourist influence. We stayed with some friends who live there.

Finally, from Sfax we continued down the coast and took the train another two hours south to Gabes, a city of just over 100,000. We stayed with our same friends there, and used the city basically as a base from which to travel further south on our own.

El-Jem, a Roman colosseum located halfway between Sousse and Sfax. Built in the early third century, it was the third largest in the Roman world, and is believed to have been able to seat around 30,000 people. We came here on a day trip from Sousse.

A small part of the walls of the old city of Sousse, which were built in the mid-ninth century.

A sweet, almond dessert treat at a shop in Sousse.

Part of the old city walls of Sfax.

Fresh French bread tempting passersby at a bakery just inside the old city walls of Sfax.

A covered shopping area in Sfax.

Matt with the owner of a rug shop in the old city of Sfax. He said he inherited the shop from his father 50 years ago.

A group of men at outside a coffee shop in Gabes.

A unique street sign in Gabes.

Why I love flying!

2007-01-31T13:20:00.000+02:00

One of my favorite things to do is to travel--well, besides sleeping and drinking good coffee (as many of you who know me well can attest to!) Over the years we have been able to travel to many amazing places around the world. Just like life, sometimes the journey is just as interesting and eventful as getting to the destination. For example, we get to sit and talk for hours to intriguing people from around the world, experience collective stress and relief with our fellow passengers when the pilot announces there is going to be an emergency landing because something is wrong with the plane or of course learn patience when our flight is delayed--for the third time that day. But the one thing I have grown to love when flying--especially outside of the United States of America--is the moment RIGHT AFTER the plane descends and the back wheels are done bumping up and down on the runway. The engines have stopped roaring like a pack of lions and the front wheels once again become connected to the earth. It is at this moment that the applause starts from the passenger cabin.

I Love THIS! For some it is an applause of relief and for others it is praise for the flight crew and the good job they have done. For me it is both of these things, but I like to think of it as a time of collective thanks to God from all the passengers that we have arrived safely. It is appreciating for just a moment before chaos ensues and we are all pushing to get our luggage from the overhead compartment or calling our ride on our cell phones, that we were in it together--not just defying gravity while flying 30,000 feet above this earth--but in life as well, and that we are experiencing community, if just for that short time.