Contentment in Jordan or Hiking, Foraging and Tea with Locals

One of my favorite things to do as of late is spend as much time outdoors as possible, exploring the world around me and taking in as many of the sights, sounds, smells, and fellow human beings around me. Today after work I had another great adventure trekking around a favorite area of mine between Amman and Wadi Al Seer. I would like to share some of the highlights to help spread some positive cheer in the world from the somewhat tumultuous Middle East.

 As soon as I had finished up at work, I headed off for the countryside and within twenty minutes of walking was descending into a wadi with the noise of traffic quickly fading behind me. I should note that on my way down into the wadi I took a few sidestreets to avoid a group of neighborhood boys I always run into and who I knew were going to ask me, yet again, if I had bought them switchblade knives like the one I own and have shown them several times. They are sweet kids, but I just didn't feel like repeating that conversation again for the tenth time (literally!).

 After I had descended into the wadi I found myself alone and surrounded only by rocks, shrub brush, and fig trees teeming with ripe, juicy figs. I took the opportunity to replenish my fig supply by filling my empty tupperware container and a Ziploc bag, while at the same time getting in a tasty, fresh snack. I then soldiered on, and when I reached the end of this section of the wadi I scrambled up the side, using whatever I could find for grips to get myself to a beautiful vantage point. After taking in the view for a bit and enjoying the moment, I kept on as I had big plans at this point for where I planned to hike to.

Not long after I had been walking through this area of the village, however, I walked by a friendly man surrounded by his children who, after exchanging greetings with, insisted I come sit with him for a moment. At first I tried politely declining several times, as I had planned to hike a route that was going to require a couple more hours of sunlight, but after I realized he was not going to take no for an answer, I accepted his invite and had a seat. Very quickly I learned my new friend's name, Akef Sandooka, and began a very fruitful and mutual exchange of ideas about life, beliefs, and the world around us. Akef spoke very clear and mostly modern standard Arabic to me, which made it very easy for me to understand him. Akef was also very excited to talk to me about Islam, which I respectfully listened to, and share with me the beautiful experience of life that this religious framework provides for him. Despite my own reluctance toward religion, I find inidividuals with religious convictions like Akef to be very beautiful spirits, as he just wants to share what is beautiful to himself with other people. I also found his analogy to describe why women should cover up to be very interesting. The analogy is the following (paraphrased): imagine two bananas, one unpeeled and the other kept in its peel. Now leave both bananas laying out and tell me which is better after some time has passed. The point he was trying to make is that the banana that is kept in its peel (a woman covered up) is better because it is cleaner and stays more pure than the one left out of its peel. I don't quite agree with this, but it was interesting nonetheless.

After drinking two cups of tea with Akef and meeting two of his ten children, I explained that it was necessary to go. When Akef apologized to me for keeping me so long, I made a point to tell him that I was the one who was actually sorry for not accepting his invite more readily and sitting down immediately. I then explained that it is through experiences like the one I had just shared with him that a person is truly able to understand and know a place, such as me getting to know Jordan better. I further told him that if I always was rushing through life and never took the time to stop and have tea with someone like himself that I would never get to know the real Jordan or understand the people of this country. He fully understood my point and thanked me for my words. I then thanked him for this opportunity and we parted in the hope that we will see one another soon.

 In the next bit of walking I again found myself talking with groups of people, mostly older women who were curious about what I thought of their country and about what I happened to be doing in their neighborhood. One of these groups I met while I stood by a grove of pomegranate trees, scanning the trees for pomegranates that looked ripe enough to eat. They, of course, also wanted to know what I was doing, and when I explained they ushered me into their gated area to give me some pomegranates that they could guarantee would be sweet. I then told them that it was necessary for me to get walking as I had some distance to cover yet with no daylight remaining at that point. I found it quite humorous how these women kept insisting that I walk straight home and not talk to anyone because there may be 'bad' people out. It was very sweet of them to think of my well-being, but I walk in this area all the time and know for a fact it is very safe. Nonetheless, I appreciated their kindness and thanked them for their wonderful gifts of fruit.

As I then made my way through the last stretch of wadi in the darkness, I found myself feeling very content, not only at this particular part of my day, but also about where exactly I am at in life in general. Over the last two years Jordan has slowly become home to me and it is largely because of experiences like these. The more that I find myself interacting with the world around me, whether it is with people, exploring new and old terrain, or just being out in the outdoors, the more I feel at home and comfortable here. If the outdoors naturally call to you, answer that call and give this part of yourself the time it deserves. I know it does wonders for my well-being and makes me feel complete. In any case, I hope this story of contentment and peace from the Middle East can help people realize this area is a much different world than what is typically portrayed in the media.

Un Ultra Mondo: Another World Inside Me

It is interesting how memories can be triggered and brought to the surface of our consciousness at times. Frequently these experiences happen when least expected, and also when a certain sense of vulnerability is present. This happened to be the case for me a few nights ago while I was attending a film screening for an Italian movie at the Hussein Cultural Centre in Amman. The film being shown, Un Ultra Mondo (in English Another World), followed a recently turned twenty-eight year old Italian man, Andrea, as he travels to Africa to visit his dying father, whom he had not seen since he was eight years old. Upon his arrival in Nairobi, Kenya, Andrea finds his father in a coma and is greeted with the news that he has a brother, the product of a marriage his father had with an African woman who had passed away a few years prior. Not long after this, Andrea’s father dies, leaving Andrea as the only next of kin to his eight year old brother. Andrea is then shocked to find out that he is the boy’s legal guardian and is legally and financially responsible for him.

As the movie continues to show Andrea and Charlie’s story being played out, it reveals the difficulties the two have bonding with one another and in coming to terms with the reality of their situation. One of the first instances in which they are able to bond and solidify their relationship is when the Land Cruiser Andrea had rented breaks down on the two of them in the middle of the savanna outside Nairobi in southern Kenya. It is nightfall when this happens, and as a result they are forced to spend the night sleeping inside the vehicle, which makes for a somewhat frightening experience for young Charlie. To help appease Charlie’s fears and unease, Andrea tells him they should pretend they are hunters and explains they will do things ‘that only hunters would do.’ Almost immediately Charlie begins to feel better and is suddenly excited at the prospect of sleeping in the vehicle in the wild. He then thinks he is ‘going to become a man’ and no longer feels paralyzed by his boyish fears.

There is another scene later in the movie that revisits this memory for Andrea and Charlie. It is once they have returned to Italy and are living in the city, but again the two of them (at Charlie’s request) sleep in their vehicle and pretend to be hunters. Despite being surrounded by only an urban jungle, they fully imagine hyenas and lions lurking about the dark surrounding their vehicle, and dare not leave its safety. It was at this precise moment in the movie when I was reminded of experiences playing with my younger sister, Emily, and her friends when she was around eight years old. Many of these memories involved playing ‘explorers’ in the pasture surrounding our farm in South Dakota, and almost always saw me emoting the role of a foreign explorer (frequently with a heavy Australian or British accent) and fully immersing myself in the ‘play’ that we were engaged in. I did this not only to make it more enjoyable for Emily and her friends, most notably Zoe, but also because it allowed me to lose myself in the moment and relive the childhood joys of imaginary play. In our time as explorers we also had to deal with potentially dangerous beasts skulking around us the same as Andrea and Charlie did.

This flood of memories brought with it several waves of emotions too, and as I sat in the theater at the Cultural Centre, the waves turned into real tears in celebration of these fond remembrances. No matter how many thousands of miles/kilometres I am from the FARM in South Dakota or my darling sister Emily, these memories bridge the gap to bring me right there. From my new home in Amman, all of those memories and the experiences they contain seem like ‘Another World’ for me, though one that is very dear and always at hand in my thoughts and heart. Just like Andrea in Un Ultra Mondo, I also have a completely new set of life circumstances I must adapt to, but this does not mean that I must leave behind these memories and certainly does not mean I should forget what it is to feel uninhibited by life’s responsibilities from time to time.

I knew I had to write about this experience as soon as I was able to, lest the intensity of it should wane and I forget to do so. In sum, this post is dedicated to Emily and the wonderful memories I have of you. Thanks for helping me remember what it is like to really be a kid and for inspiring me to be myself. I encourage all of you to find the ‘kid’ in you and to really let loose in life, get lost in the moment, and not take yourself too seriously.

Is there such thing as a Humanitarian Superpower?

I have recently watched several documentaries about the United States’ military invasions in Iraq and Afghanistan, and have read many articles and opinion pieces on the subject as well. I have made efforts to watch and read things from both sides of the situation: those honoring and celebrating the efforts as well as those in opposition to the involvements and any further military actions in the world. My own personal views regarding these wars has remain mostly unchanged, but I do believe I am much more accurately informed regarding these occupations. In the end, I do not agree with the invasions and consider myself a pacifist who prefers things truly done in the name of peace, which I believe is impossible to do under the guises of war, though George W. Bush would argue otherwise. An example of his contrary views were given in a nationally televised address on the 2003 invasion of Iraq when he said, “America will seize every opportunity in pursuit of peace, and the end of the present regime in Iraq would create such an opportunity.” A glance at any daily newspaper would raise questions about any such ‘peace’ having been achieved in Iraq as a result of the US invasion and subsequent war there. It could even be argued that the situations in both Afghanistan and Iraq are worse since the US began their operations there in 2001 and 2003, respectively.

I am not trying to argue that the regime of Saddam Hussein was respectable or that it was not oppressive, nor am I trying to praise the efforts of the Taliban in Afghanistan. I simply do not agree with war and believe it is counterproductive to human relations and all efforts to improve the overall human condition on our planet. I also believe far too much money is spent, or perhaps more accurately ‘wasted’, on much of the military engagements the US has become involved in. While it is true that terrible violence has been inflicted as a result of terrorist activities, the events of September 11, 2001 being no exception, it just does not seem to make sense, at least to me, to return violence with violence. A quote I came across by a Jordanian woman who lost her husband, a reporter for Al-Jazeera, when the Baghdad hotel he was staying in was fired upon by US military in 2003, adequately sums up my feelings about this. She said, “Hate breeds hate. Who is engaged in terrorism now?” Indeed, it seems much of the world’s governing powers have forgotten one of the central teachings at the heart of nearly all the world’s religions. It is commonly known as the Golden Rule and can be found in various forms in no less than twelve of the world’s major religions, including Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Hinduism, and Buddhism. In some ways this rule is playing itself out in its exact opposite form: various groups apparently want others to attack them, so they first attack them to show that that is how they wish to be treated. It seems strange, but apparently it works, as there are plenty of examples to see as evidence each day.

Rather than return hatred with more hatred, or violence with continued violence, would it not be better to instead focus on what good can be done in the world by focusing on meeting the needs of our seven billion fellow human beings? Right now, a host of central African countries, including Niger, Burkina Faso, and Mali, are experiencing one of the worst droughts in years and are in danger of facing a terrible famine that could become a major humanitarian crisis. At the same time, the public education system in Pakistan, if it can be called that, is perhaps the worst in the world, and millions of Pakistani children are forced to attend schools that are essentially outdoors and have one chalkboard which must be shared by all classes. Without serious intervention or humanitarian assistance, these Pakistani children will grow up to be the next generation of Pakistanis and will be largely uneducated, which makes them equally easily influenced to join a jihadist path. And those starving African children will either succumb to the effects of malnutrition and not grow up, or will face severe and permanent damage to their health as a result of it, unless something is done by those holding the power cards in the world.

This all brings me to my main point, which is why the United States should transform itself from being a military superpower to a humanitarian superpower. This idea was inspired by a quote I heard from Howard Zinn, the famous American historian who shed light on the sometimes ugly truths of American history and its foreign policy throughout his life’s work. His quote also challenges the idea that America’s current foreign policy does not value the lives of other countries, specifcally those America invades, as much as it does its own citizens. His quote is the following:

“If we believe that people all over the world have the same right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness as us, we would be taking these billions and billions of dollars for war and we would be using it for medicine and for food and we would no longer be a military superpower, which is a really disgusting thing to be, but we would be a humanitarian superpower.”

I certainly like the idea of coming from a country that can claim to be a humanitarian superpower as opposed to one of military might, and imagine that the majority of Americans would as well. In order for this to be achieved, I believe it takes a very strong and informed public, as well as one that will not stand for the injustices that are being done in the name of ‘American’ peace. I encourage all of you to also become informed and at least reconsider some of the actions our country takes instead of simply accepting it as the gospel. I do not mean to discredit everything American, and assure you that there are many things about the United States I am proud of. There are just some that I can not be silent about. Here is to a brighter future and one where (hopefully) the humanitarian budget can surpass the military one.

Arabic Theatre Weekend- A Review of Amman's Arts

During my first true weekend after moving to Amman, I took advantage of some of the many opportunities to experience the arts in Jordan. Soon after arriving here I became aware of several cultural centers and art galleries while reading The Jordan Times, a daily English newspaper I have been picking up from time to time, and made a pledge to myself to take some of the exhibits and productions in when it worked with my schedule. Among the various offerings I came across was a play called Mariam and the Story Returns, a Saudi Arabian production being put on at the Hussein Cultural Center in downtown Amman. After doing a bit of research on this center, I was impressed to see it was ranked the third best option for theatre entertainment in the Middle East by Lonely Planet.

Despite extremely overcast weather and almost constant rain throughout the weekend, I set out from my apartment to navigate the vast public transportation system available in Amman. I was very pleased to discover a bus hub only a few hundred meters from my apartment building that has regular buses going to the downtown area. Even better is that the bus fee is a mere thirty pastries, equivalent to roughly forty cents. The ride to the downtown area was brief and I soon found myself in an area of Amman I first visited as a tourist six months ago. Amman’s city center is the heart of the Old City and like this area of most cities it retains more of the original culture and true character of its home country. For this reason and many others, especially the greater prevalence of non-English speaking Jordanians, I have an intense affection for this area and in the future may try to relocate closer to it.

After leaving the bus I then made my way to the Hussein Cultural Center and took a few minutes to walk around the complex.The center is a modern and beautifully constructed building that, along with all other structures throughout Amman, is faced with local white stone, which is a requirement of a local municipal law. I believe this ordinance has helped give Amman an alluring and charming atmosphere and has prevented it from becoming too modernly homogeneous. I made my way to the theatre area a few minutes before the doors opened and found myself waiting in the company of local arts aficionados, the likes of which can be found in all regions of the world. I wish more people in the western world knew it is these same kinds of people and other ‘normal’ types also found in the west who truly make up the population of the Middle East, and not the radicals that unfortunately garner all the attention in the media. Were language not a barrier, these similar groups from opposite ends of the world would likely enjoy great conversation and sharing of ideas. Regardless, I was happy to be in the company of other like-minded people who appreciate the arts.

When the doors opened I entered into the auditorium area and found a seat in the fourth row. One thing I noticed here that I have not seen elsewhere was that a program and a small basket containing dates had been placed on each of the seats throughout the auditorium, which has a capacity between 150 - 200 people. Being hungry anyway, I enjoyed the delicious dates, which were among the freshest I have ever had, while I tried to decipher the Arabic on the program. It contained all the typical information one would expect to find on a playbill, including the names of the musicians, cast members, director, producer, and others associated with the production.

Not long after sitting, the lights dimmed and the show began. Despite recently feeling pleased with myself and how well my Arabic has come back to me relatively quickly since returning to the Middle East, I soon found myself mostly lost in the quick dialogue of the actors onstage. I was able to follow certain parts by catching various words, but I must be honest and say that I was not able to follow the majority of the speaking. This did not prevent me from appreciating the show, however, as I thoroughly enjoyed the music, overall visual presentation, and the high caliber of the acting. In terms of the size and scope of the production, it was relatively small; there were about eleven total cast members of which all but one were adult men between perhaps twenty and forty-five years old. The only female player was the young girl who played Mariam, who appeared to be about eleven years old. She was absolutely fantastic in this role, and easily won over the entire audience, something I gathered from the reception she received at the end.

The cast members wore almost only white clothing, which created a stark contrast to the overall dim lighting that was employed throughout the play. The lighting that was used had an overall red-orange feel and when coupled with the fog/steam that was also used, created a somewhat eerie and otherworldly feel. This was intensified even more by some of the visual imagery that that the cast members generated through their movements using a large white sheet that was prevalent through most of the show. This sheet, which was probably the equivalent of 100 square meters, had several head-sized holes cut into it in which the actors, in more than one instance, stuck their heads through and then wrapped the sheet around their bodies. While doing this, they also at times moved their arms, hands, and legs underneath the sheet in ways that created unique imagery along with the aforementioned lighting. The movements were superbly choreographed and well executed, and together made for a very entertaining display.

The music that went along with all of this was provided by a group of only three musicians, one was a classical guitarist/vocalist and two were percussionists, including one who played tabla. The overall mood of the music paired perfectly with the visual imagery and helped add to the mystique and sometimes tense atmosphere of the show. In terms of its form, I thought it was similar to much classical Middle Eastern music and was done quite well.

(Author’s Note: The following section was written after the previous excerpt and in a different writing session).

The day after my first play at the Hussein Cultural Center, I again had an opportunity to take in a free theatrical production and am very glad I did so. This performance, put on by a Libyan troupe, was in stark contrast to Mariam and the Story Returns in nearly all aspects. While Mariam seemed to be more of a classical/traditional play that relied heavily on implied ideas and imaginative imagery, Khararef (I am not sure of the exact translation) was a modern play that employed entirely different techniques and modes of presentation. Additionally, the Arabic being spoken in this show was much more similar to what one hears in everyday conversation and on the streets; as a result, I found the play far easier to follow and was able to surmise its overall plot more readily.

The Libyan production was in truth different in nearly all aspects from Mariam and I must say I enjoyed it considerably more. In contrast to the lighting from Mariam, Khararef had an overall bright stage display that made the characters much more easy to see and readily discriminate. The music and sounds employed throughout it were provided not by live musicians, but rather from prerecorded audio that was fed through the in-house audio system at the cultural center. The acting troupe was much different also, and included a wide variety of characters who were very different from one another. In Mariam, the characters were all very similar, almost to the point that they seemed homogenous to one another, with the exception of Mariam. Khararef's characters were different not just in their physical attributes, including ages, sizes, and clothing, but also in their unique personality traits. Some were very serious and intense, while others were more comedic and did not seem to take themselves seriously at all.

It is at this point that I feel it is necessary to explain the nature of the plot of Khararef, which in my opinion is perhaps the most fascinating aspect of it in general. As I said previously, I was able to follow this play more easily on my own and speculate on what it was about. I knew that it had definite political implications because I continually heard the Arabic word for government (hukuma) being spoken, and started to suspect that it was about the Libyan revolution when I began to hear hukuma being uttered in tandem with the words kalab (dogs) and haiwanat (animals). My suspicions about it being inspired by the revolution were confirmed when I then heard an all to familiar phrase to me from my time in Yemen - al shab yureed isqat alnitham (The people want a new regime). This is a phrase that has become synonymous with the Arab Spring and is somewhat of a motto of the various youth oppositions in the Arab world.

Despite feeling confident about the play’s inspiration and overall message, I felt it was necessary to ask someone afterwards to confirm my intuition and to gain a more complete understanding of it. The man I asked appeared to be a photographer and was very knowledgeable about the play, providing me more information than I had even expected. He was from Dubai, in the United Arab Emirates, and spoke very good English. Not only did he confirm for me that the play was about the Libyan revolution, but also explained that the central female character in the play, who had a very key role throughout it, represented Libya. He further explained that in one scene her character was shown to give birth to the character representing Muammar Gaddafi; then at the end sher was shown snuffing out/killing Gaddafi’s character. This was meant to show that Gaddafi both came from and was extinguished by Libya (by the 'rebels' as they were denoted in the media). My Emirati friend also told me that all the actors in the production were Libyan and had been specifically picked to represent all the main geographic areas of Libya. Additionally, he mentioned that the character who acted as Gaddafi had actually fought as part of the opposition against Gaddafi in the recent fighting.

How entirely fascinating it was to see a play inspired by such recent and relevant events, especially given my current living situation. The reception this play received was very positive, and the audience was fully engaged throughout the course of its single, exciting act. There was much laughter throughout it, as I imagine many jokes were made about the character that Gaddafi was throughout his tenure as Libya’s leader. In sum, a great weekend of Arabic theatre and a fine start to my time living in Amman.

Jordan: My new home

Author's note: This is the first post on my blog after a very long absence. This absence was caused by a number of things, though primarily due to me losing my laptop compter and many other personal valuables, experiencing a whirlwind of activity in Yemen in my last few months there, traveling extensively during the summer, and a re-evaluating of life and my priorities over the last part of 2011 that necessitated an absence from online activity. This post is the start of a renewed season of writing and will be likely followed in the near future by continued posts. Enjoy!!

It is truly amazing how much one’s perspective can change in relatively short periods of time. For me, the last year and half has completely altered my life’s outlook and understanding of the world in ways that are irreversible. Just eighteen months ago (August 2010), I touched down at Queen Alia International Airport in Amman, Jordan for a four hour layover during my move to Sana’a, Yemen. At that time, I knew very little about Jordan or Yemen or the Middle East in general, and spoke almost zero Arabic. To borrow the title of Robert Heinlein’s famous science fiction novel, I felt like a “Stranger in a Strange Land”, and not as comfortable as I typically find myself.

After living and being in Yemen for eleven continuous months, I then reentered Jordan for the second time, only this time staying for eight days. This second visit was during June 2011, immediately after I had been evacuated from Yemen and at the start of my summer break from teaching. At that time I felt much more comfortable and at ease in the Arabic world, and by all accounts had fallen in love with the Middle East and everything about it, including the culture, language, food, weather, and people. I knew then that I wanted to return to the Middle East to live and work, but had no leads on specific jobs. Despite feeling at ease and relaxed in Jordan, however, I could not have predicted that just over six months later, at the present time, that I would be returning to Amman, Jordan to live and work.

And yet, this is precisely the situation which I find myself currently in. I now live and work in a country which I was just a tourist in only half a year ago. How interesting it is to view Amman from my current perspective, which is one of more permanency, compared to when I was here for only a matter of days. Following my stay in Amman I spent two weeks touring around Tanzania and Kenya before I returned to the States, where I spent the first couple months visiting family and friends in South and North Dakota, and then five months living in Oregon with my twin brother. During my time in Oregon, most of my time was focused on finding new employment in the Middle East and returning myself to a more healthier state of being, two missions I am fortunate to say were accomplished. In addition to this, I also spent considerable time finding enough work in Oregon to pay the bills and just get by, something not easy to achieve in that state’s economy. The various work experiences I had there will have to be the focus of an entirely separate blog post, which, inshallah, I will get to at some point in the future

Since arriving in Amman, I have spent the majority of my time getting situated in my new apartment, which is lavishly furnished courteous of my new employer, The International Academy - Amman; getting myself familiar with my new neighborhood; taking care of various odds and ends like acquiring a phone, internet, setting up a bank account, etc.; and working on beating jet lag. As I have gone about these tasks, which are essential when settling into any new living situation, it has been interesting to see in myself how much differently I am approaching them compared to a year and a half ago in Sana’a. At that time I was so overcome by the newness of my surroundings and the countless cultural differences that I had a difficult time finding any real focus to go about my life. These feelings did not truly go away for several months and made it rather challenging to maintain focus on my work and on other things in life that are not ‘just fun.’ After less than two full days here in Amman, however, I am already feeling a sense of focus and steadfastness to the tasks at hand that I found much more difficult to achieve during my entire time in Yemen.

This change in attitude does not mean I am not without my typical adventures and happenings, as the trip here in itself had some interesting experiences worth noting. For starters, while checking in at the airport in Portland, I met a woman from Oregon who was flying to North Dakota with a final destination of New Town on the Fort Berthold Indian Reservation, which I called home for two years. I then had a surprise layover/connecting flight in Denver, before going to Detroit for my next connection. While in Detroit I found myself waiting nearly the entire time in the company of Arabic people, something I first experienced when I boarded my flight at Chicago O’Hare Airport on my initial flight to Yemen. At that time, I found the experience to be much different and felt much more out of place. In Detroit, however, I found myself feeling not just comfortable and relaxed, but delighted and reaffirmed that, yes, I was in fact making my return to the Middle East! In the end of the terminal I found myself waiting, I heard far more Arabic spoken than any other language, and also saw the familiar dress of the Arabic people. From the bits and pieces of Arabic being spoken, I was also able to ascertain that a number of the people I was in the company of were of Yemeni descent, something I could tell from a few nuances in the dialects being spoken. How delighted I was to be in the company of these people!!


There are two other interesting experiences I would like to share before closing this present post, both centering on people I met. The first was an employee from Lufthansa Airlines whom I approached with a question about the availability of postal services in Detroit’s airport. Despite telling me that there were no such services, he kindly offered to drop them in the mail when he left work that day, an offer I gladly accepted. As I was handing him the letters he asked me where I was headed, so I then explained to him I was moving to Amman, Jordan. His response was immediately enthusiastic, and for good reason too, as he then went on to tell me that he had lived only forty km from Amman in Palestine for several years. He went on to tell me how great he found that part of the world and suggested several sights he thought were worth seeing in the area. After visiting some more and trading travel/life experiences, he told me he was originally of Swiss descent, but that it did not really matter anymore. From what he told me, I gather that he has lived in Africa, the Middle East, Europe, Asia, and now North America. Before leaving, I told him that I hoped to be like him when I reached his age, meaning that I do not want my original place of origin to define me and that I intend to continue to live internationally and in a variety of places. We parted by him giving me his business card and me promising to write upon my arrival in Amman. My completion and subsequent posting of this blog entry will complete that promise.

The last thing I would like to share is about the person I ended up sitting next to on my trans-Atlantic flight. Upon taking off from Detroit, the plane I was on first made a short one hour flight to Montreal, where the airplane both picked up some additional passengers and also refueled. During this short flight, I was not sitting next to anyone and had been looking forward to the possible extra room to stretch out for on the long haul over the Atlantic. This would not be the case, however, as I suddenly found myself sitting next to someone who had originally boarded in Detroit but who had been sitting next to his family for the first leg of the journey. After starting up some general conversation, I soon learned that my new seat-mate’s name was Mohsen and that he was traveling to Sana’a, Yemen with his father and brothers to see their mother and other family members. When I first asked Mo where he was from, he told me that he was from Detroit and the US, but he soon realized I meant where he was originally from, so he went on to explain how he was of Yemeni nationality and originally born in Yemen, but had spent most of his life in the US, some in California and some now in Detroit. He also told me that he had not seen his mother in two years and that after their two week stay in Sana’a she would be returning with he and his other family to the US to live. I also shared with Mo my recent travel experiences and explained to him the nature of my being in Yemen for a year, which included during the start and first several months of the Arab Spring there and elsewhere. It was so fascinating for he and I to share our experiences and perspectives on the world, which despite being different in many ways are actually quite similar. Perhaps the biggest differences are that Mo is a Yemeni-American currently living in the US and for all intents planning to stay there indefinitely, and that I am an American currently living in the Middle East and for all intents planning to stay here indefinitely. It is as if he and I have traded places of origin and swapped home regions to live in. It is difficult for me to communicate exactly what an experience like this feels like solely through words, but I hope that I have done it some justice in the dialogue I just provided.

As with all things in this life’s existence, this post must come to a close. I have found that in my writing that I can almost always keep going and often have difficulty knowing when to stop. However, this current post is just a beginning for a new and hopefully long string of writing from me in this corner of the world and elsewhere that I find myself in the coming months, years, and decades. I give my best to all who read this in the new year and wish you prosperity and health in 2012!! Take care and cheers!!

Living Between Two Different Worlds: Yemen's Protests

27 March 2011 (Author’s Note: The opinions and record of events expressed here are solely that of the author and are not guaranteed to be 100% accurate. Comments are appreciated and welcome, an readers are free to share this with friends and colleagues. Hope you enjoy!)

I have written previously about the significance of my flat’s location in Sana’a over the last two months, and how it has offered many interesting experiences and opportunities. At the moment of this writing, Yemen is on the brink of a successful revolution and the end of a thirty-two year regime. Not surprisingly, then, now presents an even more fascinating and intriguing time period. Even as President Ali Abdullah Saleh visibly loses his grip on power and seems days, if not hours, away from hanging up his hat, Tahrir Square remains occupied and busy with his supporters. Change (Taghyir) Square, on the other hand is busier now than ever and has, based on my walks through the area on an almost daily basis, grown to its largest size yet.

On account of these two political strongholds remaining occupied, life in my neighborhood continues to feel like being between two different worlds. I especially recognize this polarity when I walk from one demonstration area to the other continuosly. Just like the midpoint between two magnets, the area between the two protests is filled with tension and an almost electric feeling of energy. This keeps a constant edge to life, as it seems something could happen at any moment. Both suprisingly and not, the people in Sana’a, including myself, have quickly grown accustomed to these changes and adapted life’s daily routines to fit the current situation.

One thing that I have not allowed these circumstances to change, however, is my love of walking through Sana’a, including the Sana’a University area and Tahrir Square. Since the massacre on 18 March 2011, the tension level has remained at an all-time high. Immediately following that day, it was difficult to know exactly how to act. People had difficult emotional responses that laid a collective weight over much of Sana’a. I myself had trouble sleeping for a few days and did not feel at ease immediately either.

By the end of that week even more things occurred that significantly changed Yemen’s future. General Ali Mohsen, a high ranking brigadier general, changed his position and took sides with the protestors, guaranteeing them protection from further attacks. This move started a windfall of resignations by various members of ministries, the military, and other government positions. Suddenly the opposition had gained much more muscle that could be used in their attempts to negotiate or force President Saleh to step down.

While all of these things were occurring, people tried to maintain life’s normal daily activities as best as possible. Some things reamain unchanged, while others have changed drastically. Although I avoided Change Square for a few days this past week, I have continued to use walking as my chief mode of transportation and still enjoy relative freedom in navigating Sana’a. This week, after my second failed attempt to fly to Tanzania to climb Mt. Kilimanjoro, I have had much more spare time in my days and have used this time as an opportunity to better understand what daily life is like at the protests.

Yesterday I used this opportunity to walk to the locale where last Friday’s shootings took place. This was the first time I had been to this site since the shooting, and the first time I had been to that area in several weeks. While I was on the scene, I spoke with several men about details from the incident including which buildings were used by the snipers and where the dead and injured were during the attack. In the process I learned two Arabic words for massacre, madthbaha and majzarah. One of the men I spoke to had excellent English and was there the day of the shootings. He took me on a walking tour of the area and did a great job explaining the events to me. He even pointed out a spot where one of the victims was shot and explained that it was his headband that still laid there, surrounded by rocks in improvised fashion. This helped me better understand the incident and was, despite its sadness, fascinating.

At present, this site is still part of the protest area and is blocked off from traffic. Near the center of where the violence occurred that day is a makeshift memorial dedicated to those who lost their lives. The area, as well as the whole protest area, is adorned with pictures of the departed along with words to help remember them by. Despite the tragic loss, these men are being thought of as martyrs and for helping stimulate what seems likely to be yet another toppled Arab regime. Although it is on a much smaller scale and not official, this memorial reminded me of the Oklahoma City Bombing Memorial and the feeling I had when I visited it.

Not long after visiting the site of the shootings I made my way towards my apartment, but made a stop at a CD shop on the way. For the past few weeks I had been trying to find music similar to what I hear when I walk through Change Square and had had limited success. My Arabic teacher had given me the name of one singer and also told me I would have the best luck looking in the area near the protest. With greater optimism than in previous attempts, I went into a shop and proceeded to explain to the men working there that I had heard some music while walking through the protest and wanted to buy some cds that were similar. Not only was this great Arabic practice, but was completely successful! In fact, when I later listened to the cds I heard at least two songs that I recognized from Change Square. It may seem small, but this was a huge win for me.

To sum up, the area around Change Square is more lively than ever and holds a level of excitement indicative of a win in the near future. Tahrir Square, on the other hand, lately has begun to feel like the losing team’s side of a stadium at a football match. The fans (or Saleh supporters) have not completely given up on their team (Saleh) and are still cheering and wearing their apparel, but there seems to be a sudden realization that this game may be out of reach for a victory. There remains enough hope, however, that the people and the tents remain, while President Saleh, from the countless pictures, continues to stand guard from nearly every angle imagineable. Watch out what you do, someone is watching you!

With nearly two full months of protests behind us, it remains difficult to tell what the immediate future holds for Yemen. Much like the heavy sandstorm that recently fell upon Sana’a and much of Yemen, there remains a large cloud of uncertainty over all of Yemen and its political dilemma. Will Saleh tap out and thrown in the reins, making way for a new political system? Or will he continue to grip the reins tighter and make his already white knuckles whiter? Only time will tell.........

Yemen's Sad Day in Protest Violence -18 March 2011

The day out started feeling as if it would be more peaceful. My weekend had already been a roller coaster of emotions and events in my personal life, but I was feeling pretty good as I walked out my front gate to grab lunch in Tahrir Square.

Just a minute or two after leaving home I ran into a French student's father who I hadn't seen in weeks. We enjoyed a great conversation and held similar views about how fascinating it is to be living in Sana'a now, especially the neighborhood we are located in, which is directly between the large pro-government demonstration in Tahrir Square and he large anti-government protest in Change Square. He also informed me that his wife and two kids got back to Sana'a after a two week visit to family in France.

I continued walking and in Tahrir Square was greeted by the usual large gathering around Friday's noon call to prayer. This has only recently grown to the level that it is and over the past few weeks and has frequently been the starting point for large pro-government marches, a couple of which I unintentionally joined while walking to friends' homes. The area was somewhat quieter than other days, but there were perhaps more people in Tahrir than I have ever seen. Ali Abdul Mogny Street, which runs right between Tahrir Square and The Old City, was closed off for at least two kilometers and was nearly filled with people knelt in prayer. The Friday sermon once again had control over the sound waves and on either side of the road people bustled with activity.

After a delicious lunch at a favorite restaurant, I decided to take in the scene and get some pictures. I enjoyed several small conversations with people curious about the 'foreign guy' in the demonstration and appreciated the Arabic practice I got in the process. Throughout this time military helicopters buzzed around at a very low level, although what they were doing I do not know. After about an hour I started to head towards home before going to my Arabic teacher's house for our usual long Friday afternoon class. I felt I had got some great pictures and that little else could be accomplished by my presence there.

On 26 September Street near my apartment I stopped to buy some fruit from my favorite bukalla and again enjoyed some great conversation with some locals I both know and don't know. A few hundred meters from my front gate I stopped to talk to a group of soldiers standing in the street between the Prime Minister's Office and the Radio Station. They had initiated the conversation by asking where I was from, "Roossia? Franceea?" After telling that I was from America, we enjoyed some conversation in Arabic, which included an explanation about the  unique looking gun one of them was holding. I had asked them what the large device on the end of the barrel was for, which without would have been a normal shotgun, and was told that it was for firing the mystery gas canisters that have been shot on the protesters in Change Square a couple times over the past few weeks. 

I then asked if I could get a couple pictures or two of them. They were excited at this opportunity and quickly agreed to it. They were even more excited when I then asked if I could get a picture taken with them, and soon I was standing with the soldiers, all of us smiling and me holding the gas gun. I then told each of them it was a pleasure to meet them and we shook hands as I walked the last bit of the way home.

When I got to my apartment, where I planned to stay for only twenty minutes, I tried to quickly upload my photos from the day in protests at that point. After having some difficulty with the usually inconsistent internet connection, I started to gather my things and to head for the home of Subhi, my Arabic teacher and great friend. While walking past my bathroom towards the front door I heard the unfortunately familiar sound of gunfire and went to the window to see if I could see anything. As I looked out the window, continuing to hear gunfire, I was able to determine that the shooting was taking place near Change Square and then saw smoke coming from near where the shots were being fired. I immediately sensed a change in the mood for the day, which only continued to grow in intensity.


I then walked back the short distance it is to Subhi's home, passing by the same soldiers I had previously enjoyed the photo op with. The guns and the mission they were upholding seemed quite different at this time, despite being only twenty-five minutes later. The thought crossed my mind that soldiers just like them could have been firing similar guns and weapons from near the protest in Change Square. I still waved and smiled, but unfortunately had a growing sense of tension and a mix of emotions hid beneath the surface.

I was greeted at Subhi's by his neighbor boys and brothers, Mohammed, Ali, and Abdulrahman. We have grown quite fond of each other since I started studying at Subhi’s home and during our brief conversation this time, Mohammed taught me the Arabic words for gunfire, black smoke, and fire. After walking through the the front doors I then saw Subhi, his wife, and oldest daughter. I felt the usual warmth and comfort from them and proceeded to make myself at home in the mufraj room.

I knew we would be watching the news reports about the situation from the day and looked forward to finding out more about the gunfire and smoke I had heard. After a short time, Al-Jazeera began to broadcast live footage and news updates on one of its channels. The smoke was coming from near the intersection of The Ring Road (Dairie) and Iran Street, which is near a favorite restaurant of mine and the grocery story City Mart. It is also very close to my close friend Mohammad’s house. The footage continued to grow in intensity and the news updates came in quicker and quicker. It felt very surreal to watch footage from an area of Sana’a that is a ten minute walk from my apartment and part of my familiar territory. I had last been at Change Square on Wednesday on my usual walk home from school and only a few hundred meters from the location where the current violence was happening.

When the first reports of deaths came on the screen, all of us sitting in the room were devastated. The first report said two deaths with many injured, but had no more information about who was responsible for the shootings. Unfortunatley it was not long before the second report came in with an updated totals on the number of deaths. Seven dead. Just as quickly the third report came with twenty-eight confirmed dead. I had a growing mixture of sadness, anger, and frustration as I watched the footage of injured and dead being tended to on the screen in front of me. It was hard to believe that this was all taking place right where I was and that I could continue to hear the, now waning, gunfrire from outside.

After some time, a large group of Subhi’s friends arrived from Change Square where they had just been. Although I never actually asked, I imagine they left because of the violence that had broken out and to get to safety. I found it fascinating to be sitting with men who had just been at the events now showing on the television in front of me. Around this time was also when my own personal spirits began to rise and I began to feel less of the depressed and sad state I had earlier felt. This was due partly to having more time to process the events, but also because Subhi helped me understand the events from the ‘bigger picture.’ Yes, the events unfolding were terrible and the mounting loss of life was a tragedy, but this is also a necessary, as well as regular, part of any revolution or change in government. Despite the loss of life, these ‘martyrs’ could perhaps help speed up the change in power that, at least to the men I was with, is good for the people of Yemen. Subhi even mentioned the much higher loss of life that occurred as a result of the Civil War in America.
Once my perspective and outlook had changed, I felt much better and did my best to keep up with the continuing updates and the conversations around me. This was much more difficult than normal, mostly because the vocabulary was so specific to the situation and not in my personal lexicon of Arabic. Despite this, I was able to even catch a few of the jokes that were told and felt much better to hear laughter from people, especially those who had just come from Change Square.

Soon after this another friend of Subhi’s showed up, this man also coming from Change Square, but in a much different capacity. He is a doctor and had been helping to provide medical attention to the injured and even had blood on his left ankle, I imagine coming from one of the wounded or perhaps dead. Though I could not keep up with the infromation he shared, Subhi told me what he had said. The gunmen had apparently been firing from the roof of a building owned by the governor of Mahweit Governate, which is near Sana’a to the north. Once this had been discovered by people from the opposition, they managed to make their way in the building and eventually forced the gunmen to flee, which then put an end to the violence. From the perspective of the opposition then, this was another victory and brought more smiles from the men I was with.

After this the shooting ceased for the day, though the final confirmed death total of forty did not. For the next hour or so, our group mostly watched coverage of an interview with a member of Pres. Saleh’s family who no longer supports his cousin. While this was on, there were also reports of a few government ministers who were abandoning the president’s party because of the day’s events. More victories in the opposition’s perspective. Sometime during this period of time, I began to hear an Arabic word, unknown to me at the time, said many times by my comrades. After asking what it meant I was told it was the Arabic word for suicide, in that the events of the day were turning out to be a political suicide for Mr. Saleh. This produced the most cheers from the room for the entire day.

Around this time I received a phone call from a Norwegian friend, Sven, who told me he was headed to another friend’s home, Brian, to hang out. Because of the realistic possibility that these friends could be evacuated at any time and I would not see them again, I left Subhi’s and headed towards Brian’s flat in The Old City.

As I walked out the door, however, I received a forwarded text from Brian that he had just received from his job with the IOM that stated the following: “EU Security reports: 30,000 protestors moving from univ. to face pro govt protestors in Tahrir sq. All roads in centre closed. Heavy military presence. Stay home and have run bags ready.” While I contemplated this text I was already walking on 26 September St., one of the more direct ways of getting from the univ. area to Tahrir. Although nothing like the warning was going on, and fortunately did not, I found myself very unsure of what to do. Staying in the area would mean being in the crossroads of this march, but walking to Brian’s would mean being away from home, also not a good option.

Before I made my mind up about what to do, I was walking in The Old City and had already passed through the heavily secured Tahrir Square. Though as a foreigner I could get in more easily, it was by far the most guarded I have yet seen Tahrir. Just as I was about to Brian’s place, I finally decided it would be in my best intersts to just go home and stay put. I then literally turned around and started walking for home, stopping to buy some food on the way but otherwise not wasting any time.

Fortunately the message about the protestors moving from Change Square to Tahrir Square did not come true, but the thought of it was enough to make the rest of my evening fraught with anxiety and worry about all the different scenarios that could play out. Unfortunately, as I finish this writing, three days later, things have continued to heat up in what now seems like an inevitable and unavoidable deparutre by Saleh. Inshallah this change will be peaceful and life will resume its normal grind again. Only time shall tell.........