the pomo still tries to settle in

I know several emails have not made it to various people. I tried using my gmail account, but no one has responded to that either. Maybe Bush (or my nephew Kenny who works for the CIA) is intercepting my emails since I'm writing from a Middle East country . . . .

I think I'm getting mixed messages from people at the university, and I don't know what to think. For example, the chair, Dr. Hani, begged me to take another class--(I told you this), a novels class. And he said I should teach 3 novels, of my choice. So I decided to make the class a topics class, and the topic: "The individual and society." I chose "To Kill a Mocking Bird," "One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest," and "Housekeeping" (a novel I always teach in my women's lit class--it's by Marilynne Robinson, who just won a pulitzer prize for her novel "Gilliad"). When I told Dr. Hani my novels, he said "well, you maybe ought to teach one Victorian novel--like Jane Austen. That way they get a small overview of different time periods." Well, why didn't he say so originally? In the mean time I had already told my class the 3 novels, but now I have to change them. So in keeping with my theme, I have chosen the Vict. novel "Heart of Darkness". I'm afraid to tell Hani what I chose, because Conrad is not, in fact, "like" Austen.

Then my students tell me that I need to take a copy of the books to a "bookstore" (read:copy shop) where copies will be made which they can purchase for a very nominal price. But Hani told me I shouldn't do that (rather he told all the faculty in our orientation). Well, my students insist that it's always done this way. There aren't many books stores around w/ novels in English, and those that are have a very small selection--so the students are likely tell the truth. So I let a student take me to the "bookstore," and I did leave my books thereto have copies made. I really don't know what I'm supposed to be doing. I expressed this to my student, and she said it's like that (one receives double messages) in everything here. Esp. (according to her) faculty will ask the students to write what they think, but the faculty really wants students to repeat what the faculty thinks. (I think a lot of the teaching style here is like that--you know, old school, rote memorization, etc.) Any advice? I'm thinking I should probably take on "the don't ask, don't tell policy. "

It was wild in class today--on the front row of my novels class (which I taught for the first time today) sat a woman in a full burka--not even a slit for her eye and she had gloves on her hands). (Mind you, all but the christian women--who wear very visible crosses--wear the hijaab, but only this one is in a burka). We were discussing the aspects and characteristics of postmodernism--it was the most absurd and yet authentically pomo moment I think I've ever experienced. . . .

I actually can and do make my students laugh, even though my brother Bill said they wouldn't think I'm funny. I told them I never voted for Bush, or his daddy, and they laguhed. One male student came up afterwards, telling me he's so happy I'm here. (But he couldn't understand why anyone in American would choose to come to Jordan when "It's a hundred times better in the US!") Then he told me that my comment about Bush likely did not have the effect I thought it would (i.e. make everyone like me). He said everyone in Jordan loves Bush--that if I went to the mosque and told them there that I didn't vote for Bush, they'd like me there, but not so at the university. He said many Jordanians consider Jordan the 51st US state. Who knew?

Ah, well--live and learn. I seem to be doing many things a bit off here. I just found out that the way I've been greeting the taxi drivers as I get in a cab--"ahlan wasahlan" which I thought was "hello" is actually "welcome." I thought it strange that they were all gave me funny looks, but I guess the looks were well deserved as I was tell them "welcome" to their own taxis.

The interviews with the refugees themselves are really challenging--very depressing in many ways . . . the infinite ways in which we humans can cause one another suffering. Sometimes I come home exhausted, think I'll take a small nap, and wake up 5 hours later, only to go to sleep for the night, two hours after that.

iftar w/ Meysoon

I am not fasting for Ramadan. But last night Liana ( the student who is thinking about renting a room from Meysoon) and I had iftar with Meysoon (a graduate student's of Abdelmahdi's, her sister and her children. It was an amazing dinner. I had so many new foods: a juice made from dates that I had never had before, a chicken and rice dish (which I have had before) a wonderful dish of pomagranites in syrup, and a sweet that is only made for Ramadan--a pastry crust with sweet cheese and pistachios inside, fried, with a syrup on top. Then we had fresh organic fruit from Meysoon's farm in Jaresh. We ended the meal with expensive thick Turkish coffee. After we drank the coffee, we turned the cups upside down and let the thick remains flow out. Then Meysoon read our fortunes from the remains of the coffee grounds that were still in the cup. She said that many eyes will be looking in my direction soon (I took that to be many people will watch the documentary I am making about the women refugees); I will be receiving lots of money (maybe a grant I applied for will come through!). She said that God is watching me (but I cannot figure out if he is happy or angry with me!). Also, I will have a content and happy life. Well, I love this kind of stuff, but I don't take it seriously. So then, I offered to read her fortune. I made up all sorts of wild and funny stories about her future, and everyone was laughing so hard at the fortunes I made up about them. We had a good time. I am very impressed with Meysoon and her research about globalization and the effects it has on youth. I have been thinking of adopting an Iraqi orphan, or maybe two siblings, but apparently it is not possible for a westerner, or someone not of the tribe to adopt a child. It is hard for westerners to understand. If there is a person who desperately wants a child, and there is a child who desperately needs a family--it seems to westerners like a perfect match. But, that is not the way it is viewed here, and that is what I have to deal with. I may never be able to have a family again . . . I feel as though I have a lot to offer a child--I have the money, and the time, and the desire to commit to raising a child, and I love little children--they are so funny and adorable, but no one will let me have a child. . . Meysoon said that I could adopt her though (haha).

the charm

Ok, this place is losing some of its charm. My 100 HDV cassettes for my camera arrived from FedEx, but they are at the airport and have to go through customs. The paper work alone is going to cost between 40-50 JD (one JD =$1.40). And who knows how many days it will take? But if I'm not able to retrieve the cassettes in 3 days, I have to start paying rental fees. . . . Apparently they have to open every single one of the tapes. Or maybe they're just giving me a hard time. It's hard to tell, except this is the story I'm getting from the ACOR staff, so it's probably right. The staff were a bit irritated w/ me for having it shipped. My diploma has not arrived (I need it to complete my application file at JU), nor has the information I need to get into my bank account. So every day I walk a mile and a half to cash a traveler's check at the Western Union Building. It's surprising how far 75 JDs does not go. I asked the guy at the Western Union Building (who smiles big at me every time I come in) where the closest sweet shop was (as I want to bring some tea and sweets with me for the interview tonight). He wrote down instructions and told me to give the instructions to a taxi driver--"not far at all" he said. The taxi took me on a 20 minute drive to the other side of town, where indeed there was a sweet shop. The sweets were 10 JDs, as was the taxi. Now I'm down to 50 JDs. . . .
I looked in the book store, thinking I would get a poetry book with which to teach my class, but they are 30-50 JDs. I've contacted the publishers of a couple of text book companies and they won't ship overseas (I'm beginning to understand why now). I think I am going to be winging this poetry class with ostrage wings (sp?--how do you spell that big bird in Africa? This damn Mac spell checker will tell me when I've misspell a word, but I can't seem to make it give me the correct spelling.), not the beautiful spread of eagle wings I was imagining I'd have. I find myself checking my email every half hour. . . . I want my dog. . . .

some on Abdemahdi

I have to say a bit about Dr. Abdelmadhi Alsoudi. He is the sociology professor at the University of Jordan who answered the first email I sent to about 6 or 7 faculty at JU. I looked up faculty (mostly sociologists/political scientists/psychologist) whose interest and speciality most aligned with my oral history project, asking if they had any suggestions or recommendations by way of contact people to help me find refugees and/or to get more information on them. Abdelmadhi was the only one who answered my email. We communicated for about six months before I arrived in Jordan; he's advised me on my getting a teaching position at JU, housing, and some on Jordanian culture.
It just so happens that he is also on sabbatical this year, and will be teaching at the University of Denver--my Alma Mater! Abdelmadhi left for the states (to present at a Middle East conference at the University of Utah) the day after I arrived. How likely is that--I come to Jordan and he goes to Utah, at the same time? On his last day in Jordan, instead of spending time w/ his friends and family, he took me around the university, introduced me to the chair of the English Department, Dr. Hani Elayyan, and to the chair of the sociology department, Dr. Mohamed El-Daks. Later that night we went to dinner and I met his beautiful wife, Aysha, and his daughter, Lina. With the Alsoudis living in Denver this year, Lina will be graduating from high school in the US. She is very precocious. Her English is excellent (with hardly an accent), she is smart and informed and very mature. I want to adopt her!! At the least, I hope to host her to come to UVSC, although I suspect that she will get accepted to an ivy league school. . . . She is so adorable and passionate. If the world has a future, it will be because of young people just like her. She has already been to the US to a seminar where young people from around the world gathered to discuss world and social problems, and to develop cultural understandings.
I feel so lucky to have met Abdelmahdi; the circumstances of our meeting and the ways our lives are intersecting almost seem like fate. I really wanted to help him find housing in Denver, but there are few furnished rentals, within walking distance to the university, in Cherry Hill school district (the best in Denver), and in the price range they need. His dean at DU promised to provide housing for him, but that fell through. It makes me a bit ashamed of the hospitality (or lack thereof) foreigners often find in the US.
I have included Abdemahdi's home page as a link, for those who want to read some of his papers. He has an especially good one on the US/Middle East relations.
Aysha and Lina will be leaving for the US in a few days. The Alsoudis are a wonderful family and I am only sad (selfishly) that they won't be here while I am here. . . .

another usless poem

I wrote this poem this morning, after being awakened by the call to prayer.


Who Flees the City

The woman who flees the city
carries a door on her back
and on top of the door is balanced a vase
and in the vase is rolled a scroll
and on the scroll is written a word
and in the word is folded a prayer
and in the prayer is flattened a heart
and in the heart is nailed a door--
a door, which neither opens nor closes
carried by the woman who flees the city.

Sally and Fadi

I'm up with the prayers again here (4:30 a.m.)--enough already!

Yesterday, Friday, Sally took me through greater Amman, in a taxi and with map in hand, pointing out the major landmarks and the various areas that I'll likely want to utilize. It was very helpful. I ended up going to a wholesale market and got tea flasks, stuff to make tea (so that I can bring a lot w/ me to the interviews, fruit--amazing dates!, etc.). Today she is taking me, along with three of her friends, to the Dead Sea where we will go to a spa and swim in the sea. One of her friends from her embassy work is in from Egypt and has never been to the Dead Sea. She requested going to it, so we are all off. Sally has worked in public health here for 6 or 7 years; this last sumer she got a job at the American Embasy. So she seems to know everyone and has many connections.

Fridays are like our Sundays here, Saturdays are like our Sundays, and Sundays are like Mondays--does that make any sense? So to tomorrow, Sunday (our Monday/beginning of the work week)) I am going to interview Sally and Fadi (my other translator who is from Iraq). I thought that their perspectives on the refugees might be interesting as they see many refugees from their work in the health field. Sally said that the biggest health problems with Iraqi women is domestic violence.

Apparently I had a distorted impression of the refugees situation (of course). I had understood that many of the refugees where middle and upper-middle class people who were well educated--the very people who had the ways and the means to leave Iraq (and who if they stayed in Iraq could actually rebuild the social infrastructure). And while some are in that situation, many have spent all of their money getting out of Iraq, and/or they cannot work for pay here, so their financial situation is very bad. In addition, they are in a very vulnerable position, socially and financially, and are often taken advantage of. So the majority are in very dire straights. Large families and/or extended families--of up to a dozen people--will live together in very small apartments, sometimes only one room, in the poorer part of town (the east side, which I have not yet visited). Sally says that the women and children do not get to go out during the day. One can imagine that in such a restrained environment, with the terrible pressures of poverty, boredom, little hope for things changing, and stress, violence could easily erupt.

Sally, Fadi and I have decided jointly to rent a car. We will divide the costs in three. We each live in different parts of the city, and pay separate taxies to meet up. Then we take a joint taxi to meet the women refugees. But this way, Sally & Fadi will have a car for their own needs to & from their work, and we will all three travel together when we are doing interviews, and I can take the car when I have the need (which I don't see being often as most of my needs can be met within walking distance, and I will either go to the historical sites with people from ACOR, or take the local buses which I am now comfortable taking). We'll each be putting in about $100.00 JDs/month. It should save us all money and time in the long run. And time is very important for them as in addition to their work w/ me, they both work full time (although Faid works two 20 hours shifts a week in the hospital, and two 8 hours shifts, for a total of over sixty hours a week). Fadi seems to be a bit obsessive-complusive. He wants to two or three interviews a day. I would rather get one extensive, careful good interview a day.

I really like Sally and Fadi. They are both 28 years old--one year older than Blake would be. . . . I will try to see if I can talk them into giving me their first born after they marry. Or at the least be their child's American godmother. . . .

remembering Blake's birthday

If Blake were alive he would be 27 years old today. Here is a small, worthless poem I wrote in this morning's dark, as the muezzins gave their call to prayer from the minarets of Amman:

The net cannot hold water.
The screen window cannot hold air.
The heaven cannot hold all the prayers,
rising like stars in the night.

life at ACOR

ACOR is a wonderful place for me to be staying while at Jordan. It is a very prestigious hostel for academics. Mostly archeologists are staying here. The place can house up to 50 people. We make our own continental breakfasts, have a nice "formal" dinner at 2:00 where we all sit down together to eat and visit about our work, and one can put together any dinner from lunch left-overs. There is a large library.

thoughts on Jerash

I arrived on the night of the 2nd. So much has happened. . . . Amman is actually one of the cities of northern Jordan which are considered part of the Decapolis (ten cities thriving at the height of the Roman Empire), and was orginally known as "Philadelphia." On Tuesday, I visited Jerash with an archeologist, Marlina, (Ph.D. student studying at Oxford--she is from Finland) who is just finishing her field session at Petra, and is staying at the American Center of Oriental Research for a couple of days to catch a few sites). Of course, volumes have been written about Jerash, and there is far too much history to detail here. Suffice it to say that Jerash was a major center of trade, falling along one of the major ancient trade routes.
The ruins here are in various states of decay and restoration, with buildings and sites still standing from the Roman empire, through the Byzantine Empire, and into early Islamic period. The sites include the following: an ancient arena where chariots raced daily and gladiators fought, two amphitheaters for plays and musical performances, a seemingly misplaced fountain to the water nymphs--which apparently flowed continually from the Roman aquaducts, a temple to Artimus, Zeus's daughter, and the remains of a beautiful tile floor of a Byzantine church.

My impressions:
1) The connection between religion and violence, and violence and entertainment, seems to be universal. Too often various faiths (or at least the interpretations and manifestations of a faith) are concerned primarily with imposing its order and values on a people (and does so mainly through means of fear & intimidation). From the Tao te Ching--translated by Stephen Mitchell: #18 "When the great Tao is forgotten, goodness and piety appear./ When the body's intelligence declines,/ cleverness and knowledge step forth./ Where there in no peace in the family,/ filial piety begins./ When the country falls into chaos,/ patriotism is born.") And so goes culture. . . .

2) And yet, something still remains of the human heart and spirit. Something does rise out of the ashes, something still sings, even if it is only a song of loss. The longing for art and beauty resides.

3) As the various empires rose and declined (challenging terms for a postmodernists, of course, as the decline of one empire IS the rise of another) there is a period of hybridization where distinct parts of one culture morph into a different thing (or more exactly, the entire process of cultures moving through time is one of the morphing of hybrids). A stark example of this I saw in the Byzantine tiles on the floor of a ruined church--many of the tile patterns were of people, animals characters, etc. According to Marlina, when the Byzantines were overpowered by the rise of Islam, the tiles on the faces of these various beings were taken out, scrambled, and replaced, so that no recognizable icon could be seen. Marlina said that the edict to destroy icons came down from the head of the church, likely as the old icons had let the people down, had not protected the people, so they were not longer given positions of significance (or power).

4) I cannot reconcile the strange paradox (redundant, all paradox is strange) that there seems to be a force larger than any one individual behind these changes, AND there is also the individual resisting or promoting change.
salam, Laura

the trip to Amman

I made it and am sitting here at my little table in my little dorm at
the American Center for Oriental Research (ACOR). The trip was wild!
The plane frm Utah to Chicago wasn't able to dock for 30 minutes after
we arrived, so I had to literally sprint to my Frankfurt connection (as
the plane was already boarding). On that flight, there was a very young girl w/
two babies--one about two and the other 6 months. Her husband
was stationed in the military in Germany & she was returning from
the states where she had attended her sister's funeral. The babies were
fussing a bit--ok, down right bawling, but instead of comforting them
she would yell at them "Stop it!" or "Hush up" or "shut-up!" Of course,
that only made the kids more stressed, of course. This was going on
and on and people were turning around giving the poor girl dirty looks.
She was obviously overwhelmed. So I asked her if I could help by walking
the little one, which I did, for about an hour. Then he fell asleep and I sat
down with him, holding him while he slept. I slept too, for quite a while,
only to be awakened by my entire lap being soaked as his diapers overflowed.
Hence, I arrived in Frankfurt with a lap stain and smelling of urine.

The flight to Amman was uneventful as I slept through it. Once at
Amman I waited for 1.5 hours for my luggage (while my lap dried)--
Only to have it (my luggage) not show up. But luckily, the baggage check
people found it. While waiting for my luggage, there was a Saudi man
(I assume) in a white kafton--with some women in black burkas.
One kept lifting up her vail to try to better see if the luggage were hers.
He would give her stern looks and she would return the stern looks, pull
the veil down and moments later lift the veil again. The were bickering like
siblings (or better stated--married people). The trials of marriage seem
to be universal.

Then I stood in line to have my visa stamped. When I finally made it to
the front, the man told me that the line I was in was the "pasport line"
and I had to stand in the line next to us--the "visa line." So I got in the
visa line for another 45 minutes. When I got to the front of the visa line,
the man behind the desk took my passport, handed it to the man who insisted
I take the second line and then he (the passport line man) stamped it!

My taxi ride was waiting, and had been waiting for close to two hours for me.
Driving into the city was interesting too. Along the side of the freeway,
periodically there would be people who appeared to be camping out. There
would be a few cars, or horses, (and once a camel), and people would be
squatting around a camp fire. These groups occured almost every mile or
two. I have to find out who they are.

I think I may have received the penthouse suite here at ACOR. There is
only one bedroom, so I won't ever have a roommate (yeah!). I have a little
3 by 2 foot fridge. I spoke with a few of the other people here and none
of them have fridges, they each have a frudge for the entire floor.
I've traveled for 23.5 hours and am fried. Amman is a beautiful, magical city.

salam, Laura