Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Arabic!

I started taking Arabic classes last week and I’m walking on the moon. I’m the kinda gal that has to be progressing toward something to feel fulfilled. I need a goal, tangible or otherwise that I’m working towards.
My overall sense of well being and contentment comes not from whether I’m having fun, but if I feel like I’m doing something worthwhile. I’ve always been like that, I have to stay busy or I get reclusive and down. Up until this point I’ve enjoyed my time in Yemen, I’ve done many interesting things, and had some marvelous adventures but I’ve made limited progress towards my goal; to learn Arabic. I have some relatively lofty life goals and nearly all of them involve a proficiency in the Arabic language. This was the rational behind moving to a third-world, lawless, developing nation on the cusp of civil war- one year immersed in an Arab culture would be the equivalent of 5 years living and working at home and studying on my own time. Living here, battling extreme boredom and the stagnant social scene, dealing with marked cultural differences and gender inequality, getting robbed, getting sick and not progressing toward my goal has, at times, made this Yemeni adventure feel like a bit of a train wreck.
I’ve been trying to take classes but I’ve been brutally rebuffed. There are myriad language institutions and private tutors in Sana’a and Taiz and Mukullah, basically everywhere but Aden. Aden only has one place that teaches Arabic classes, it gets mixed reviews at best and costs hundreds of dollars a month- in a land where the average yearly income is $700 , this is an extremely exorbitant price. One of my students approached me and offered up her older sister as a possible tutor. Right now we are having some scheduling difficulties- as is to be expected in the pandemonium that ensues during the final week of the session, but I have high hopes that it will all work out and I’ll start dominating this language!

Monday, July 20, 2009

Painfully American!

This weekend I invited Ben to my apartment to grade papers and enjoy the "Painfully American Feast" I was about to create. I wanted to showcase my flair in the kitchen! All in all the menu consisted of:
-chili-curry chicken burgers
-salsa
-"faluga" which is an ice-cream like treat made from stale bread, burned milk and salt. Just that discription alone is remarkably off putting, but really it's quite tasty. You eat it from a small plastic bag that you bite the corner off of and then suck out the melty goodness.
- non alcoholic beer battered onion rings (which were gross)
- and I finally made Fasoolia, a local spicy bean dish
soo... not so Amerian after all but the chicken burgers had a Kraft singles cheese like substance on them and that's about as American as you can get. Delicious!

Sunday, July 19, 2009

D...E...F...3...4...5...

DOVE products- Especially shampoo, lotion, and deodorant. I ran out of my favorite kind. Actually within the last month I ran out of all the toiletries I brought from home, it was rather devastating. In regards to personal hygiene and ablutions I’m really quite persnickety. I don’t enjoy not having my usual, over-abundant arsenal of delightfully fragrant, name-brand toiletries on hand. Though some of the products here are just plain fun. They have a tub of rock-hard body wax made from lemons and sugar (I ate some, not at all bad) that costs around fifty cents. After boiling it in a pot of water for awhile I was able to get it into a sticky, taffy-like consistency. Affixing it with some loose-leaf notebook paper I was able to wax a small patch of Matt’s back. This was, of course, an activity that is only enjoyable A) after copious delicious adult beverages, or B) as in our case- when opportunity collides with extreme boredom. This gave us at least ten minutes of entertainment but not a moment more because, I don’t like hair. But what I really don’t like? What I really don’t like is YOUR hair, on or around ME.

ENGLISH- Not actually English per se because I spend all day teaching it, and because everyone here speaks English to me constantly- not because they actually can, but because they shout the only English words they know at me, usually in this order, “America tamam (good)! Yemen tamam?? Yes, Yes! OBAMA! What you name?!” until I finally just give up and nod and grin for awhile before moving on. I miss GOOD English. Today I literally said, “you must to do it” in a sentence. I need some witty banter, I need a littler repartee. I’m so used to saying a word and then immediately saying a simpler synonym, and then simplifying again until I speak in monosyllables, “The beach, good.” I do it in regular conversations with native speakers now too, “I have a surfeit of time…uh.. an overabundance of… an excess.. I have A LOT of time on my hands” and in return I get, “yeah. Clearly I know what “surfeit” means. I’m from Michigan. I have my Masters in English semantics. But thanks. A LOT”

FORKS- I have two OCD tendencies in my life, one is about my laundry which I will get to in the “L” section of this list. The other one is about eating food with my hands. I just hate touching food. Something about it makes me feel outrageously unclean. I have this thing whereby anytime I eat food with my hands- sandwiches, burgers, pizza, wingies, etc. I have an overpowering, all-encompassing NEED to take a shower. Just immediately. Something about using my hands to eat makes me feel overwhelmingly unclean and uncomfortable. Relief comes only with a full shower. Even washing my face and arms up to the elbow (which I do in a pinch) doesn’t bring relief. It’s completely ridiculous and most people don’t know this about me because, up to a certain point, you gotta hide the crazy as long as you can. This was a seemingly insurmountable obstacle upon reaching Yemen. Here, food comes on big communal platters. You rip off little hunks of bread and scoop up food (and then SHOVEL it into your mouth) with your right hand. Nice huh? Getting a savory little morsel of carbohydrates with every single bite! Eating rice is especially tricky- it involves first smooshing the rice down into a wad and then, dexterously and with the proper momentum, using the convex rim of the platter to propel the rice up and toward your mouth. You then employ a patented thumb-flick motion to get it into your mouth- or, as in my case, to get it on your face, in your hair, on your lap, down your shirt, and more often than not, in your eyes. Plural, BOTH eyes. It’s a neat trick. Due to necessity I’m doing remarkably well with my little problem. I simply control my mind, I still use forks all the time, my Flesh Forks that is! Ahahah! Get it? My fingers? I use my fingers in lieu of an actual fork?!? Palms thought that was funny..

Sweet gesture

My students periodically bring me small prizes- usually food items- I’m assuming to show their appreciation of my superior teaching style and total on job professionalism. Yesterday one of my favorite students- a dentist in her late 30’s- brought me a keychain. She had had her brother pick it up on his recent trip to Syria. It was very sweet and very thoughtful. I love my students. But anyway the keychain (that I’m totally using) is a hand carved wooden heart with two nesting birds on it. Painstakingly painted on it in Arabic calligraphy are our names, Taryn on one side, Layal on the other. Two names on a beautiful heart. Jokingly I said to her-
Taryn: “oh Layal! That’s so sweet, thank you so much!”
Layal: “oh no problem teacher”
Taryn: “but Layal… does this mean that we’re in love?”
Layal: “what teacher?
Taryn: “bah… nothing!”

Some exciting news in my life!

In my Hindi soap opera big things are going down! My family’s grandmother (father’s mother, Indian woman never ever to be found without a wad of tobacco in her lip) and I are addicted to a Hindi soap opera. We call it our “stories” as in “shhhh! Our stories are on!” The whole show is in Hindi so I only pick up on one out of every 45 words or so- no no! Not because I can speak Hindi, but because for some reason every once in a while at an alarming increase in volume the characters will shout out a word in English. Just right in the middle of a tense, pause-for-dramatic-effect, whispered dialogue, all of a sudden the characters will blurt out a singular word in English at a truly incredible volume. Also about half of the show is in slow motion. This is TV at its best. An episode the other day found one of the sisters going to a street vendor to buy a flagon of milk. This scene took about 15 minutes. First she waited in line for awhile, clearly extremely anxious about something (the tense music clued us in that something big was about to happen!) And then! she tripped and spilled the milk everywhere! They showed the scene over and over at various speeds including Super de-duper slow motion. Wringing her hands in anguish and despair took another few minutes along with several slow pans over to the stern and merciless countenance of the milk vendor. Finally someone took pity on her and bought her some more milk. Her face upturned with rapture, her eyes shining with unshed tears, her lip quivering slightly….end scene! Good stuff, solid.
So finally, FINALLY it happened. IT happened. First the beautiful but hapless youngest daughter of a recently impoverished family with shady financial dealings and a dark history of social intrigue SAID YES to a proposal of marriage from a super-cutie, blind, orphanage benefactor. Hamduliallah! It was touch and go for a minute-she didn’t think she deserved him/ didn’t want to get him embroiled in her family’s recent financial woes and checkered past, and the fact that she and her sister had recently, and of course, unwittingly, been dating the same man. In addition she didn’t know that he was the very same wealthy benefactor who had proposed to her via messenger sight unseen several months previous. Right as this was all coming to light in an exciting dénouement with many theatrical slow-motion looks of shock and anguish about THIRTEEN SMALL BABIES ran into the room screaming and playing. Grandma and I were NOT pleased.
At least for now all is well in “Jojunie!” I anxiously await the next episode as this brief period of relative calm and happiness cannot last. Good post? Hah, this is my life now… because I live in Yemen

Exotic and Exciting? No?

Alright, alright, yes. I have malaria. But everyone can stop worrying about it. Although it’s scary and exotic at home, it’s rather run-of-the mill here. I’m on meds, I feel pretty damn good too. I literally haven’t thrown up in days and days! Fever? Nope! Migranes? Nope! Aches and pains? Dizziness? Nope! Nope! Nope! Remember this? Yeah… well they kept making me get wicked sunburns. I thought slim chance of Malaria, or definite melanoma? Whelp, guess I lost that bet.
My only knowledge of malaria previous to coming to Yemen had come from popular archaeological fiction. Namely it involved a remote bedouin oasis, and a master criminal swooning gracefully whilst a chaste maiden dabbed at his feverish, perspiring brow... not quite my experience.

Sunday, July 12, 2009

tasteful and understated

I am wearing a shirt with sequins on it. It also has large embroidered flowers, shiny beadwork, and hanging tassles on the cuffs. I bought it here in Yemen. This is easily the most tasteful, sedate article of clothing I was able to find anywhere in Yemen, and instantly upon purchase became the most garish thing I own. All day long I received compliments on how pretty I looked. I don't know why this type of thing continues to suprise me.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

I kinda blew it

I'm sitting in class right now, typing this as my students take an exam I wrote. They hate it, and they hate me right now. I guess it's just way, way too hard. I had a fever when I wrote it so actually getting it done as opposed to making it fair and moderately easy was my main concern. But now I feel rather chagrined and i'm slinking down behind the computer monitor right now so that I don't have to make eye contact with any of them.

Protest follow-up

In regards to the protests- several people were killed as thousands of people marched in formation and shouted anti-government slogans. The government has blamed the unrest on southern rebels demanding secession, but largely the unrest revolves around people in the impoverished south protesting against bad living conditions.
I googled some articles and didn't get too much info- if you can go to the website armiesofliberation.com - Jane Novak is a journalist/blogger living in Yemen. I feel like she probably writes good, true stuff. I don't actually know if she's a talented writer or not, the Yemeni government has banned her website so I'm unable to read the content... and that's probably why I'm so interested in it. If you can, check it out and let me know how it is.

I missed everything that happened yesterday- Monday evening i was again struck down with these crazy flu-like syptoms; copious vomiting, high fever, dizziness, chills, and sharp shooting stomach pains. Clearly this sounds like the flu. But it just keeps happening. Pretty much like clock-work I have had the same syptoms every 4-5 weeks since I got here. Sometimes it's with a sore throat and congestion, sometimes with dibilatating migraines, but always with nausea, dizziness and high fever. And it's starting to happen more frequently. What the eff?

Monday, July 6, 2009

Hey! How about that weather, huh?

Here in Yemen, unfailingly you can discuss the weather. At home the weather is a topic best employed to diffuse awkward social encounters- “soo… yeah… odd weather today, huh?” “yeah, no kidding! Okay.. nice to see you again, bye!” or you discuss the weather in terms of your hopes and dreams- “oh man I hope it snows like thirty feet tonight so I don’t have to go play a million softball games in the dregs of Delaware this weekend!” “yeah! And maybe my final exam will get postponed!”
But here weather isn’t just a casual aside, or an offhand comment. It is THE topic of choice.
My knowledge of weather vocabulary and regional Yemeni weather patterns is quite pronounced so I can converse with the best of them, seamlessly perpetuating an otherwise awkward social encounter. Depending upon the English proficiency level of conversation partner I will-
- Comically/exaggeratedly wipe the sweat from my brow and grin with exasperation
-Discuss weather differences by city and region of Yemen, particularly Aden Vs. Sana’a, Aden Vs. Ibb or Taiz, Aden Vs. any other country.
-Shout out my weather vocabulary and point to the sun, clouds, sky…
-Talk about when is it finally going to start getting cooler
-Talk about what will happen when the winds start really picking up in late July/early August and how that affects the drowning death toll
The weather unfailingly comes up in every conversation.
Since I’ve been here we’ve had two main weather changes. Stepping off the plane it was just brutally hot, just unbelievably kick-you-when-your-down, suffocatingly hot. Then we had a weather change. It somehow got hotter. Perceptively hotter. 110, 120. Just outrageous. The most recent weather change happened about a week and a half ago, the winds started picking up. It’s much dustier than it used to be, not quite as hot. Maybe it’s still just as hot but the wind is making it appear less so. It doesn’t seem as saturatingly humid as before either. Apparently the winds will just keep picking up through August making swimming extremely inadvisable because of subsequent rip-tides and whirlpools.

One nice thing is that it isn’t just me being whiny, everyone complains about the weather all the time. And everyone is sweaty and bedraggled with pronounced bouts of heat-induced lethargy.

The topic of the weather brought forth one of my favorite of all time comments from Ben, “Whew! Well I guess you can see why everyone is so devout here, if it’s this hot here everyday, you can only imagine how miserable hell would be!”

she just wants to break my nose

At boxing the other day the coach, Ra’id gathered all the girls into the ring. I don’t know for certain how familiar you are with boxing, but let me tell you, the ring is definitely on the small side. So he split us in half and both groups stood on opposite sides of the ring (separated by a suspended piece of line) He then took a boxing glove that was duct-taped into a (rock-hard) ball. The object of the game was to throw the glove-ball and try and nail each other with it- from an exceptionally close range- the thought being that with our superior boxing prowess we, theoretically at least, should be able to dodge it while maintaining fundamentally sound boxing form and stance. At this point he turned to me and assured me that I should feel free to throw it as hard as I can and I was all, umm helloooo, I don’t think so mister, they didn’t call my right arm “the Rocket” in college for no reason. And he says, “no really, you can, watch” and then he turned and NAILED a girl in the stomach with the glove. And let me tell, she went down. Another girl picked up the glove and winged it across the line, crushing someone in the face. And then IT WAS ON. I was just running around, giggling manically because you know I’m all about this kind of nonsense, trying not to be a big glove-hog, and employing my superior “prancin’ ponies*” 5 D's skill.
Later I had to “lightly spar” a girl. She wanted to kill me. She clearly just wanted to devastate my nose and facial region. But then afterwards she showed me her engagement photos and we ate a potato together. Still friends.
LEHIGH UNIVERSITY REIGNING DODGEBALL CHAMPIONS, THE PRANCIN' PONIES!!



A..B..C..1..2..3..

When we first got here ben suggested that we set aside five minutes a day to bitch and whine about what we miss, what’s irritating us, what we hate about Yemen/our jobs/ you fill in the blank. This way we wouldn’t have angst building up and festering inside of us, rather it would enable us to feel cool and collected and appreciate our time in this wild place.
Well.. we didn’t do that. We hardly ever remember and really, we just complain any dang time we feel like it. His other suggestion was to make an alphabetical list of things we miss.

Okay, yeah, I’ll do that. So today,
Appliances. I miss simple, convenient everyday appliances. Blender, Iron, Coffee Pot, Washer and Dryer, Hair Straightener, Claire’s Forman grill, Microwave.
Adirondack chairs. Joke! No poppa, I don’t miss your 9 million fire engine red deck chairs because really, really? Are you running a resort or something that I don’t know about?
Beer. Well duh. I really miss summer beers. I feel like I haven’t even acknowledged that it’s summer yet because there aren’t seasons here, and I’m working all the time. I miss stoopin’ it on the porch(or roof) at Lehigh drinking corona’s with lime with my girls, Widmer Heffeweizen with lemon dinning al fresco on the patio with the fam, and Leinenkuegals summer shandie (with or without vodka) at Telluride in the Wisco.
Beirut. The game, not the country.
Bacon. Or really any ham-derivative product especially pork roll.
Car. I miss my baby girl, el Diablo. There are a surprising number of Nissan Pathfinders around here. Every time I see one I start salivating. Diablo and I would have a HELL OF A TIME here, that’s for sure.
Coffee. Preferably of the non-instant variety.
Cheese! Damn you Dutch! Quit printing those comic strips making fun of Islam so we can drop the import embargo again your country and my palate can weep tears of joy at the glorious taste of cheese once more…

BUM BUM BUM! (ominous jaws-like music)

I missed Independence Day. Just completely forgot it. Woops.
And speaking of important days...
Tomorrow is a big day for South Yemen. 7/7 marks the 15th Anniversary of South Yemen's ill fated civil war –a revolt against the problematic Unification with the North. I thought after we made it through 22 May without civil war we were in the home stretch. Sure the week or two leading up to Unity day was a bit tumultuous- several people were killed at nearby riots and protests, but the big, feared mass insurrection against the North never happened. I, along with probably every foreigner in Yemen, was certainly hoping that this was all behind us. At least until next year. Obviously it’s not, because nothing changed. No resolution was found, no progress made. People are still just as unhappy and fired up now as they were before. I am good friends with two separatist men, both Yemeni, both educated abroad. These two men who have upper-middle class lives, good jobs, happy families, are chomping at the bit for succession. Just imagine how someone in a worse situation must fee- no job or prospect of a job because the government is corrupt and the economy is in shambles. And, if any jobs do become available 9 out of 10 of them will go to someone from the North. It breaks down to this- the North has the government and all the military might. The south has all the money and the education. If ever the country was to split there would be a mass exodus to the South. Not wishing a repeat of the ill-fated secession attempt in 1994, South Yemen can’t rationally seek civil war and succession unless they are getting funding and military aide from outside the country- something I have been assured they are in fact getting. I don’t think anything will happen soon, President Saleh has made it clear that they will proceed until they have exhausted all peaceful means of unity.It will certainly be interesting to see how this all plays out. My prediction- the country will completely implode within 3 years. If not, all natural resources, namely water, will be used up within a decade. And just like every developing state tottering on the edge of total destruction, Yemen will become a failed state. I hope this doesn’t happen. This is just what I’m hearing, this is just what I’m observing and deducing.. It will be interesting to move to Sana’a hopefully this fall, and get the North perspective on this issue. I am CLEARLY getting a biased view living here in Aden, the undisputed Capitol of the South.
But tomorrow is a biiig protest in Aden. My students warned me about it almost two weeks ago, explaining why they probably wouldn’t be in class. Amideast actually canceled all classes for tomorrow so no one has to be out and about unless, of course, they choose to be. I have been expressly instructed to stay at home tomorrow. I shall be safely ensconced in my apartment in Muallah, as far away from the action as you can be while still in Aden.

Also within the last three hours, over a dozen kalashnakov-bearing soldiers have stationed themselves by the roundabout by my house. To go with the half-dozen kalashnakov-bearing police officers that were already there. Whoa.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

hey guess why this is called "Elephant Bay"


sunset over elephant bay in Aden

More Sana'a

I'm not gonna sugarcoat it, this is a pretty sweet picI might be moving here in September!
outskirts of Sana'a
Food! Agriculture! Wait... Nope. Just qat.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Where I live... sort of

this is an arial view I took from the plane. It's kinda hard to see. You will def need to click on the picture and enlarge it to have any idea what's going on.

No Touching! (I have a plan.. it's risky, but it might work)

Today as I was riding the bus to work- which aren't called "Da-bobs" by the way! I was wayy off on that one.. a man got on and did an extreme chair fake-out. He started to sit down on one of the fold-up chairs (at this time, I was leaning to the side letting my hair blown in the wind/trying to dry my perspiring brow from the open window) all of a sudden he tried to make an ill-chosen lunge to the back row of seats( as I'm kind of bopping my head about). We NAILED our heads together, just nailed them. He flopped down on the seats in agony, I cradled my head in my hands... but neither of us said anything. Everyon else continued to stare straight ahead. There was absolutely no acknowledgment that we had just bashed our faces together. I don't know, I guess that was perilously close to an innapropriate breach of social customs and heterosexual touching in public.
Later,
as I was walking to the office between classes, there was a large throng of exuberant teenage boys clogging the hallway. I decided to worm my way threw them. Right as i was passing throughwhat had previously been clear space, one of the boys stepped back gesticulating wildly- as he did so his hand ever so gently, and quite inadvertantly, brushed my buttocks. Everyone saw it. We had our backs to each other, and turned slowly, so slowly to face each other, our beet red faces the only acknowledgment of what had happened. Laughter ensued. I was giggling because i was super uncomfortable, they were all laughing uproariously because, hell yeah! someone got to touch the foreign girl's butt!

** please tell me that somebody, anybody, picked up on that Arrested Development quote in the title of this post!