The results are in!

The results from my super funziparty poll are in! the winner: HOME! I suspect various family members had a lot to do with that one..
In second place: Istanbul! Which, is far more likely. I'm suprised by only one vote for Tunisia- which was the place I was decidedly leaning towards when I initially posted the poll.
I am entirely discounting the "Other" category which received a whopping 2 votes because I know that one of those votes was by Hookie pulling for Coopersburg, Pennsylvania and the other from Torbs for Minnesota... This was a serious poll!

In other news- I am astounded and apalled that my last THREE posts have been about teaching and my classes. Ugh. Looks like this gal needs to get a life! I shall endeavor henceforth to post about other things. Like.. QAT! and... Goats everywhere! And... water shortages! And... my new good buddy, the security guard!
Shall I do another poll?!

Monkeying around

Recently in class we were talking about daily/habitual activities and chores. One of my students, Ra’afat was giving a little speech about how he helped his parents from a very young age. “...When I am six, everyday I ride my monkey to the well, for getting the water...” He was right in the middle of a speech but I just couldn’t let that one go, “Wait.. WHAT? Hold on.. your MONKEY?! You rode a monkey to the well? To get water? Whatttt. A Monkey? Seriously? Seriously.”
He goes “oh yes teacher, I rode the monkey everyday, every day!”
I go, “uh.. okaaaay. Sure.” And I gave a quizzical look to the rest of the class. They all nodded solemnly and assured me that yes, indeed he did ride a monkey, many of them had as was common in some outlying villages. Ra’afat gave me a little triumphant look as in, see teacher! Everyone is corroborating my story! Sweet, sweet victory! And then he continued on, describing how helpful he was to his family, and how, as he got older he eventually outgrew the monkey and just walked to the well- at this comment I accidently let out a derisive snort, like no shit Ra’afat, unless you were riding Koko the giant gorilla, I suspect you “outgrew your monkey” pretty dang quickly.

Awhile later in a bit of a tourettic outburst (outbursts that are growing more and more frequent as my brain is further addled by such a surfeit of time toiling under the blistering Yemeni sun. Palms, you know what I’m talking about. Mom, think chicken noise) I made an OOH-OOH-AHH-AHH noise and flung my arms about in a little spontaneous monkey dance. They were like “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!” or, more accurately, “OOOH TEACHER! WHAT YOU DOINGK?”
“Ummm… that was a monkey, duh.”
And they go, “that’s a monkey?! Well then what was Ra’afat riding?!”

Later ra’afat told me he had six people check his paper before he gave his speech, and monkey made it to the bitter end. Listen, it's called a donkey.

Crucial pronunciation activity

The other day I played a clip of someone yelling “RUBBER BABY BUGGY BUMPER! RUBBER BABY BUGGY BUMPER! RUBBER BABY BUGGY BUMPER!” over and over again for no discernible reason until my whole class was shouting it as fast as they could at various degrees of success.
Awhile later someone finally asked “why did we do that teacher?"
“Um..Because it was funny? Claro."

touche

Every once in awhile I’ll give my classes a pop quiz, just to keep them on their toes, to ensure that they are studying. They like it because they get extra credit or treats; I like it because it takes time and is virtually effortless on my part. I give the quiz to both classes, with the implicit instructions that the first class not say anything to the second class. Pop quizzes are supposed to POP up and catch you by surprise. Usually the quizzes pertain to some sort of grammar minutiae or spelling nonsense. The other day however, I bombarded them with the “Life and Times of the Hanley Family, Quiz Explosion!” I only included questions that at some point, no matter how fleeting the mentioning might have been, I said in class. My first class sucked, but as always there was a clear winner who happily enjoyed a chocolate bar and some extra cred.
I announced the pop quiz to my second class and their clapping and fist pumping turned to groans of dismay when I wrote the topic on the board (in hindsight I should have noticed the sly glints in their eyes… hmph.)
I went over the answers orally after they all handed in their papers-
Taryn: “Where am I from?”
Class: “Bremerton Washington! In America, Not Obama’s Washington! The state!” They all shouted. Whoa.
Taryn: “What did my parents get shortly before I moved to Yemen?”
Class: “Two cats! Two cats, one black, one white! Puf! Pip!”
I started getting suspicious. They all grinned back at me innocently.
Taryn: “What appliance recently broke in my house?”
Class: “Your washing machine! It broke last night! All your clothes are soaking wet!”
Taryn: “How do you spell my sisters name?”
Class: “K-A-L-L-Y-N! She is older than you by two years, she lives in Portland!”
Taryn: “ALL I ASKED WAS HER NAME! HOW DO YOU KNOW WHERE SHE LIVES? WHO TOLD YOU THERE WAS A POP QUIZ!?”
Before I could even ask the rest of the questions they all started shouting “You went to Lehigh University and played girl baseball. You are afraid from the spiders! Your favorite color is GREEN like the color of Islam! WOOOHOOOOO!!”

My second class, sneaky devils that they are, ALL, and I mean every single one of them, memorized the answers for the super secret pop quiz. Every single person got a hundred percent. They were cracking up at this, the ultimate joke on the teacher. Here I thought I was being funny and silly by quizzing them about the life and times of TK Hanley but really they were getting me good. They started shouting, “Treats and Extra credit for everyone, teacher! Bring cake! No test tomorrow, 100% for everyone! Full marks! We want a party!”

wait... we can both speak English

A couple days ago I was at a store buying some more phone units for my mobile. I was loitering around outside trying to enter the super-de-duper secret pin code, as was another older man of solid European stock. We both glanced up, gave each other a nod and a friendly, “salaam aleikum” “wa aleikum asalaam, kaif halek?” “Be kheir, Hamduliallah( insert generic Arabic greeting/pleasantries here)” and returned our focus to the pressing need of sending text messages. After a second or two we both looked up at the same time, made eye contact and I stammered… “uh.. I mean.. hello. Hi there, how’s it going?”
And he goes, “yeah… I mean hello. Clearly neither of us are Arab. So… hey, what’s up?” and we giggled shyly, smiled, and went on our merry way.

There's just not a lot happening in Aden

Almonds from seed to dish of nuts

Yep. You read that right. Almonds are front page news in Yemen. You should have seen the photo-spread on cashews in last weeks edition!

Pregers?

Instantly what do you think this is a picture of?!



It’s supposed to be a girl with a fever but my goodness it looks like she’s breaking the news to a soon to be father. I first discovered this pic mid lecture and turned beet red and started sweating and giggling in class. I wrote in the margin, “pregnant?” so the next teacher who got my book would get to partake in the fun. Luckily not a single student thought that it was even slightly suspect and all shouted out that the poor girl had a fever. I chose not to elucidate, it would be highly uncomfortable. In fact the other day I was teaching about parts of the body and got all flustered when I realized we were slowly and inexorably heading south and WHAT SHOULD I SAY, BOTTOM OR BUTT?! CAN I JUST IGNORE IT?! NO ONE PREPARED ME FOR THISSSSS!

Hugs and Kittens!

After class the other day I was besieged by girls who wanted me to write them little, personal notes so they could "show their kids some day and never ever forget me!" It was really sweet.



After a few minutes Roua (who I started calling Roo Roo after about 2 seconds on the first day, obvi) came busting back in the room, "Oh, you're welcome teacher. But uhh.. teacher? What does 'Ekksohh-ekksohh' mean..?"
I was all "whatttt are you talking about?"
She goes "yeah, eksoh-ekksohh", and points to the paper.
"OH! X-O-X-O! haha! Silly Roo Roo, that means hugs and kisses!"
"Hugs and Kisses! Teacherrrr!"
"I mean.. not literally!"

Nobody has taken my D-word poll

If you look at the right sidebar partway down the page I've added a poll called "Where should I move next?" but no one has answered it yet! After this Yemen shananigans is over I plan on moving someplace else for a couple months, but how can I be sure unless someone validates the choice I'm already secretly leaning towards?!

keeps me young

In the text book recently there was a picture of the Roman coliseum. I love things like that, it allows me to go off on tangents. We started talking about gladiators (obvi) and I showed them a quick YouTube clip of the movie. After the clip was over and all eyes were back on me I walked to the middle of the room, rubbing my hands together in anticipation and said “okay you (pointing to a student) and you… FIGHT TO THE DEATH!” They looked up at me in shock and then STARTED GETTING TO THEIR FEET! "Okay teacher..."
Hahahahaa. Sometimes I really love this job.

sad and scary?

Usually once a session teachers will show a movie in class (dependent upon proficiency level) as a language fluency exercise, usually a light, funny, often animated movie. During the movie, students answer a series of questions and follow up with a writing assignment/ movie review. It’s a nice diversion from normal class. Anything is better than the inevitability of grammar! Amira is currently teaching several of my former, beloved students. Amira is known as a strict teacher, I am…..not… Daily on break and after class they pour into my classroom, shouting out new things they’ve learned, asking my opinion on various minutiae, complaining about how difficult the last quiz was, causing a general ruckus and so on. I love it. Amira had her movie showing the other day, and as usual, a few of my former students came up to me after class. One of my favorites, Hussein looked downright doleful. I asked how the movie was- expecting animated responses because movie day = fun day. “Oh teacher!” Hussain said, “It was just soo SAD and sooo SCARY.” And then he slumped away. I went to Amira’s room all what the hell kind of sad and scary movie are you showing to Yemeni teenage students!? She goes, "Umm.. Narnia?"

Prudy McPrude, the Mayoress of Prudyville

In many aspects Yemen has turned me into an old lady prude. The other day I ran to a corner store real quick for some provisions, in my haste (MUST. HAVE. CHOCOLATE.) I threw my abaya on over some giant basketball shorts. The abaya covers from my neckline all the way to the ground, ensuring that I was fully covered- seriously if I don't feel like sweeping the floor I can just put an abaya on and walk back and forth around the room, the dragging hem line picks up everything! But on the way back to my apartment a sudden gust of wind blew the abaya up, and whipped it around exposing a few inches of ankle. I was mortified. I'm serious. I was deeply embarrassed and felt like a total walking stereotype of inconsiderate foreigner.
The other day I saw a tourist wearing a tank top and I openly scowled at her. I made eye contact with several Yemenis and we all shook our heads in mutual disgust. I mean of all the indecency!

In other ways it has turned me into a coarse vulgarian- I have made TWO scatological references in the last 3 months AND I actually laughed, LAUGHED when that bat defecated on my head. I hope no further deterioration of my highly refined, superior upbringing ensues.

EARTHQUAKE! 5.6 Magnitude!

"Oh my gosh! Did you feel the earthquake this morning?!"

"No. And neither did you. It was in the middle of the gulf. Grow up. I mean... YEAH I DID! I had to brace myself in the doorway for cover! All my precious vases were shattered! Close call!"

8 month musings

It’s amazing what you become inured to over time- I think that human beings can adapt to almost any situation, I feel like mankind is hanging on by a thread, and that order and total anarchy are divided by the thinnest of lines. But let’s not delve into that right now.

I’m talking about my own personal adaptation to living in a third world country.
Coffee is a perfect example of my plodding journey through circumstantial adaptation.
Coming to Yemen I was a high-brow coffee snob- Starbucks or bust. Not even Dunkin Donuts was good enough- America runs on Dunkin? Not my America. Only through sheer desperation did I make the switch to Nescafe. Over time Nescafe has become my greatest pleasure. I keep a giant bottle of it at my cubby at work and I carry single-cup packs with me wherever I go- I just discovered the special “3-in-1 Extra Strength” blend. It’s like the sweetest ambrosia. I am currently living in a place without any propane for cooking. Getting propane is easy enough, you just wait for the propane guy to come by your house and flag him down. You can tell the propane guy is in your neighborhood by the yelling- instead of just men going down the street yelling for no reason(as happens myriad times throughout the day), the propane guy goes down the street yelling AND banging a stick on a wheel barrow in a discordant cadence. But… that takes more effort than I’m willing to give at this point. And so without even the slightest hesitation, when I made my Nescafe this morning, I made it with some room temperature bottled water I had lying around. Room temperature Nescafe? Completely delish. Oh how the mighty have fallen.
Other things that I’m just used to by now-
-never really feeling clean
-my hair falling out. Oh? I never mentioned that before? Because of my prolonged exposure to water with an extremely high saline content, my hair is falling out. I mean, everyone’s is. At least I don’t live in the East, where the water has so much fluoride that your teeth turn brown.
-moderating certain behavior because I’m a woman. Like not shaking mens hands, or wearing short sleeve shirts.
-having no real privacy. I kinda stand out here.
-I’ve also become MUCH more patient. I mean, you have to be.

Ben and I went to one of our favorite spots for some orange juice the other night, sipping away contentedly, enjoying each others company. After a moment of silence he said, “Seriously, just look where we are right now.” I was like umm.. Yemen? “We are sitting on plastic chairs drinking juice in a dirty parking lot.” And it was quite true. We were sitting in a busy, loud, immense parking area full of litter, feral cats, un-chaperoned children, beggars, and refugees. It was quite a realization that this place, this little, dirty juice place was our world now. The next night at dinner, we looked around, “oh hell, we’re in a dirty parking lot again…”

I promise not to talk about camels again for awhile... after this

I finally tried camel's milk! It smelled like dirty bovine urine and tasted like.. well I thought it tasted like regular milk, but all the people i subsequently made try it, said that it tasted pretty funky.
One of my students brought me a giant bottle of it and so I carried it around for much of the day offering it to anyone who caught my eye- including some homeless Somali men I know, even they politly declined the genial beverage. In this way I corroborated the fact that all Yemenis share the baseless belief that a surfeit of camel's milk can in fact, thwart the efficacy of anaesthesia. I need to see some data on that one. I also discovered that drinking camel's milk would make me strong like bull. I deduced this because whenever people asked me what was in the bottle and I said, "haleeb al-jamal" their eyes would light up and they would make the this-is-really-good-stuff nose-flick gesture and then immediately move to the you-will-get-so-strong bicep-flex gesture.

As long as I'm throwing out universal stereotypes, here's another one- All Yemenis, yes ALL love Celion Dion. LOVE her.

The security guard thinks i'm a terrorist

We have a relatively new security guard and it has become pretty clear that she thinks I'm secretly trying to blow up the school. For months and months I've been on excellent terms with the security at our school- when I lived there I used to make them tea or bring them ice cream. And they were always extremely sweet. So every morning when I come to school they give me a sharp salute ( I jokingly saluted the guards once, and now I guess its our thing) and wave me on through the gate. BUT NOW there's a new gal, and she has thrown my entire morning out of orbit. She is both fierce, and scary. She could eat me in a single bite. Every morning she gives me the once over, and takes my bag and gives it a thorough search and then eyes me again- I laugh nervously and eye my freedom just inches away, "yep, still just textbooks and exams to hand back, no bombs today..sorry! That? oh that's just a pencil.. yeah it's a #2, it's no big deal.."

But the other day we had a big break through!

My classes had their oral presentations! Each teacher does the orals a different way. I give my students a minimum of three minutes to talk about whatever they want- as long as it's orignal material, not read from a paper, and not about their favorite football club(the first time I did this, 7 boys did their oral about Manchester United. Booorring.) This is an individual presentation. They can bring props, pictures, powerpoints, costumes, food, whatever they want. I give them ample warning, but no in class time to prepare. I looooove oral day, it's one less day I have to make a lesson plan for. They all get scared and hate it.

My first class absolutely rocked it this session, it was amazing. They all got together on their own time and helped each other prepare and make them interactive. One person would give her oral, and a few of her classmates would do a skit that followed along perfectly. Or one guy did his about the ritual ablutions before the five daily prayers- one student acted as the imam, calling out the prayer, as the other spoke and demonstrated how it was done. One girl taked about Aids- at first I thought she was talking about "Eid" the Islamic holiday after Ramadan.. then I thought she was talking about "aid" and charity organizations... then I decided to stop guessing and listen to what she was saying. She dressed up in a in a doctors lab coat, with a stethoscope and brought in a skeleton and a big skull. Usually my kids suck at the oral- they get scared, or don’t plan or take it seriously, or they really show their level (I teach level 104) but these kids really, really excelled. I was like a proud mama, beaming at all of them.

Two girls got special permission to work together, their topic: Traditional clothes for women. What women? This woman. I didn’t realize I was the prop until it was much to late. They dragged me off to the bathroom and dressed me up in a pink, purple, silver and gold flowing dress. They pinned some of that wilty green plant so frequently seen at weddings in my hair, and gave me a string of jasmine petals to wear around my neck. They taught me a hip-swaying, sashaying little dance. Then we went back to class(which I had left completely unsupervised. woops.) and as they spoke I did my little dance around a tub of burning perfumed incense. It was hysterical. I needed to show my boss, this was just too funny- I ran into the adjacent class, did a quick impromptu tap dance in front of the startled teacher and darted to the office to showcase my traditional Yemeni beauty. It caused a bit of a scene. Students, teachers, staff stormed my classroom to see, crowding around the sides, and hanging in the doorway- there were students from other classes lined up outside, their faces pressed to the window trying to see. I had to pose for about around a million pictures to cries, “oh teacher! So beautiful” and “you look perfect!” – I was wearing a GIANT, loose dress, I had a necklace of yellow flowers, and dead green leaves in my hair, my “loveliness” was much the same as the “rare beauty” I displayed at the Yemeni wedding. Everyone was asking why my class got to have a party on a normal school day. Party? Nahh… this is oral day! But guess who else showed up? The scary lady guard! She came over and got in several pictures with my students and I. And you know what else? She SMILED at me.

GHOULISHLY GOOD TIME?

I forgot about Halloween. D-WORD I keep forgetting about American holidays. I had a piece of Yemeni candy made from Tahini paste- the crucial additive to hummus- which is almost the same thing as going to a bunch of Halloween parties, wearing absurd costumes, trick or treating, and eating those mini candy-corn pumpkins until I lie in the fetal position moaning and writhing. I almost remembered about it, almost. About three days before the big holiday, a bunch of the YES alumni (the students who had previously spent a glorious year in an American high school usually someplace god awful like Mississipi) approached me about helping them plan a Halloween party at Amideast.
Initially I was HIGHLY skeptical- I have previously been approached on numerous occasions for help with similar activities, all wonderful in theory, but in their exuberance they forget one crucial thing: we’re in Yemen. “Taryn! Help us form a co-ed baseball club!” Awesome! Except…. There aren’t any fields or even open spaces…. Baseball doesn’t exist here…. We would have to order equipment from another country…. It would be too dangerous for the girls to play in their abayas and hijabs…. Young boys and girls should NOT be running around together in public… and its effing hot.
As I continue to take pains not to let my rather antisocial, introverted nature become public knowledge, I of course feigned enthusiasm, and gave my hearty assent.
They wanted to make this party at Amideast, and force all the ACCESS students to attend- so we would be forcing an American holiday on about 220 people. Hmmmm.

Soon we started talking logistics- not only is this holiday HIGHLY haram, but there isn't the slightest bit of Halloween decoration for thousands of miles in any decoration. Do you think Saudia Arabia celebrates Halloween? The Kingdom is our closest neighbor.
I came up with QUITE a list of possible G-Rated Halloween party activities culled from the vast wealth of knowledge I gained at King’s West’s yearly “Harvest Festival.”
-shredding up cotton balls in lieu of spider webs
-scary music
-black garbage bags covering the walls to make it dark
-paper ghosts hanging from the ceilings
-scavenger hunt around the school
-food and drinks- I wanted to freeze a latex glove full of red food coloring, and then float it in the punch bowl. I also wanted to spike the punch but I didn’t make that suggestion out loud.
-That gross/scary food guessing contest- peeled grapes are eyes, cold spaghetti are the guts!
-make carmel apples and popcorn and bob for apples (sorry girls, no burkas in the communal bobbing water) When I suggested this they said, “Oh? What’s bopping for apples?” There is no “p” in the Arabic language, they simply substitute it for the letter “b” and Yemenis confuse the hell out of the two. Puttering their pread, or going to the clup or peach.
-I asked all my students where I could find a pumpkin and they were like, why at the fruit stall across Shabbat of course! But then we reached the mutual conclusion that I was talking about a pumpkin and they, in fact, were talking about a watermelon. So okay, why not? Let’s have a watermelon carving contest.
-trick or treating around the classrooms
-costumes competition- I figured this would be the first party in the history of Halloween parties whereby the teenage girls weren’t going to dress up as sex kittesn and naughty school girls.
-raffle
-haunted house in a classroom.
-a cake walk! (A.Kuske and I OWNED the cake walk at Family Fun Night at King's West)
I made about one-million suggestions and then was like “okay! Good luck!” but eventually the ULTRA-HARAMNESS of Halloween in Yemen proved an insurmountable obstacle and the whole thing was canceled. And so three days later, Halloween, just another day under the fiery Yemeni sun.

Attention Mom, Dad, and Kallyn- If this post reminds you of another young girl of our acquaintance, a young girl who also had trouble remembering the difference between two letters- this is neither the time nor the place!