Animals in Yemen hate their lives

In Aden I live in the region of Khormaksar which has a nice little series of private compounds and infrequently traveled lanes- in fact the gated, walled street ways are quite labyrinth like and if you inadvertently make a wrong turn you can easily end up going ages and ages out of your intended way as you are corralled along. But to get anywhere from my apartment I have to go down a little lane and on my daily sojourn, THE SERIES OF DECAPITATED ANIMAL PARTS I FIND IS SIMPLY ASTOUNDING!

A couple of weeks ago, delicately positioned in a loping stride was the hindquarter and hoof region of a small ruminant, I'm guessing goat.


Earlier this week as I was walking along I spied an adorable little red-and-yellow, children's giraffe figurine. How cute! I even went so far as to comment to Ben how charming I found it. Upon further inspection as I drew closer I realized it was in fact, a severed chicken's foot! It was HUUUUGE and the red part was its bloody stump!


today there was a giant crushed Raven...

Along this lane are two old stray dogs- which Matt affectionately named Rabies and Scabies- and at least we know that they're getting some nice protein in their diets as they gobble up the fetid roadkill..

Also I had the wildest encounter with some birds earlier today- As I was descending the stairwell of my apartment I came upon a crow. I made the usual stomping/kicking motion to shoo it away from my chosen path. It didn't even flinch. The bird didn't move one inch as I drew up to it. Finally I started gently nudging, and then petting it with my shoe. It gazed at me for a moment and then flopped over exposing its downy midriff. Okay.... While I was thoroughly engrossed in this perplexing avian behavior, a bunch of other crows started swooping down toward me and landed by my feet all around me. They started cawing extremely loudly, screaming and flapping their wings, one of the birds was salivating and drooling into a little pool... It was so dang Hitchcock I hightailed it right out of there.


I was reminded the other day that I have been utterly remiss in mentioning Kitten. I mentioned the Fuffster, I mentioned my two little munchkins, but I neglected to mention Kitten! I do miss Kitten, I swear I do! What happens when you and your beloved college roommate get bored one day and then drunk? You adopt a cat!

In a nearby suq they sell baby monkeys for $5.00 I've been pretty bored at times around here... luckily alcohol is illegal so clearly I haven't been inspired to adopt a monkey. Yet.

Vacay/Goodbye!

Early tomorrow morning Matt and I are going here:

Matt has been transfered and I am "helping" him move. And by "helping him move" clearly I mean playing all day. I'm extremely excited to explore around Sana'a especially the old town and the suq area, which is a UN World Heritage Site. Eventually we will take a day trip here:
This week has been extremely hectic so I haven't done one ounce of planning for this little vacation and I guess we will play it largely by ear. Sana'a is far more conservatve than Aden so I will be wearing hijab the entire time, maybe with abaya. At no point will I good naturedly punch Matt on the back, or grasp his arm when I'm excited about something, and we can just forget about finding a $1,500 riyal can of beer! After a week I shall bid Matt adieu, and fly back to Aden to begin another session and further immerse myself into this amazing, and unfamiliar lifestyle.

I have a new family... they're Ethiopian!

So yesterday as I hopped on the bus trying to go to my bank(before the atm instantly and irrevocably ate my atm card- the card that took me ages and dozens of untranslated papers with my signature to get…) we had barely started moving when an SUV pulled up beside the bus and started honking and frantically motioning for the bus to pull over. It took me many moments of bewildered staring before I realized, oh, they’re frenetically gesturing at me. In the car was an older man whom I didn’t recognize and a burka clad woman. Okay… I guess they just wanted to say hi… Upon further inspection I realized that the woman in the car was the sister-in-law of the mother of my family, the man remained unfamiliar. So I hopped out of the bus and hopped into their car. It turns out that the man, Abdul Aziz, works for the UN which is a few compounds over from where I work. To make a long story short he invited me to go fishing with him the next day, and is that something I would be interested in? ummm… OH HELL YES I WANT TO GO FISHING! So extremely early this morning I made my way over to the UN compound, and hopped in the car with two Ethiopians, one Yemeni, a couple of Germans, and some Frenchies. They all knew each other, worked together, were friends. I knew Abdul Aziz…for about 15 minutes… from the previous afternoon. We drove to a sleepy little fishing beach about 35 minutes down the coast, and stopped for refreshments- as we were all crowded around a small store/stall, the two German gals talking excitedly, a French dude with GIANT dreadlocks sprawled out on the roadside, and me helping one of the Ethiopian guys haggle for a highlighter orange, children’s inflatable lifevest, someone commented dryly “wow… we’re not conspicuous at all….”
We hired an old wooden boat, and an even older captain to command it. It was extremely hot, windy and choppy- as every capable fisherwoman knows, choppy, windy days are not ideal for a plentiful catch BUT I WAS NOT TO BE DETERED! I am extremely proud(and feeling rather cocky) to say that I caught both the BIGGEST and the MOST fish!! The competition wasn’t exactly fierce however; one guy went down almost immediately with raging seasickness… multiple times… right into the middle of the boat. The Frenchies proved completely incapable of properly baiting a hook, and then one of the German gals got sick, and the Yemenis were clearly just in it for the qat… so it really bottled down to one girl and I- the competition was ferocious, each of us trying to be nonchalant but both secretly keeping track of each other's catch. But hellooooo, Irish trumps German EVERY TIME, obvi. I think my thrilling victory(which I secretly fist pumped about when we got back to shore) was because she kept trying to use a GIANT fish head for bait.
Mostly we caught small blue and yellow striped fish- which we flung into a garbage sack in the middle of the boat- come to think of it, that sack ‘o fish must have been alarmingly close to the floating pools of seasickness…huh. I didn’t even realize that. But anyway it was fun to catch a little fish and then hack it up and use it for bait for the next round. We were fishing completely archaic- fishing line wrapped around hunks of wood with giant, rusty hooks, and stones tied on for weights. It was a blast. Afterward we went to a little shack on the beach and flopped down on some strategically placed carpets for some refreshments. But get this- previous to going to the UN this morning I stopped at a little bakery and got a sack full of assorted cookies. As we were all reclining in the shack, with a cry of Voile! I brought forth my sack of treats and put them in the middle of our table (and by table clearly I mean the dirty ground that we were huddled around). A short time later- before we had come to the desert part of our snack- a strange Yemeni man came up. He boldly walked up to where we were lounging, surveyed the assorted food options piled around us, snatched the sack of cookies, and WALKED AWAY. Can we go over that one more time?! WE DID NOT KNOW THIS MAN, HE GRABBED MY ENTIRE BAG OF COOKIES, DIDN’T SAY A WORD, AND THEN WALKED AWAY! And get this… nobody even acknowledged him! It’s like it didn’t even happen! I was staring open-mouthed in consternation, unable to draw a breath so much as cry out, and no one even cared! He took all my cookies!!!! About ten minutes later I was like “hey, remember that one time that a man came and snagged my giant bag of treats?” And everyone goes "what! That didn't happen, you're making this up! We were all sitting right here!" and I all, yeah but you were gabbing away in eight different languages and not paying a lick of attention.. Upon discovery that the cookies were in fact gone, they acceded that I wasn't actually crazy. They weren't even mildly pertubed though, and I had to revel in my consternation and outrage privately in my head..
So afterwards Malacko(other Ethiopian) and I ended up going to Abdul Aziz’s house for lunch. It was amazing and delicious! I Now I love him and his whole family, Ethiopia in general and Ethiopian food in particular, have a standing Wednesday night “family” dinner with them, and am meeting his brother in Sana’a to take us on a day trip to Shibaum! All that, and I’m only mildly sunburned!

Clearly motherhood is not yet calling

The last couple weeks I keep getting babies thrust into my hands. I mean really though, babies? This happened again the other night when Muhammad Ali was driving me home. All of a sudden he pulled the car over, whipped into a building and emerged moments later with a baby… Immediately he positioned the baby into my arms and continued driving. Again we stopped somewhere and he motioned for me to follow him. Bah.. okay… got this baby in my arms…. I don’t know how to hold it….it can’t just stay in the car? Seeing us a woman started cooing over “my beautiful little son” I was all hold on lady! A pale, young, American woman, SURROUNDED by Arabs, is holding a dark skinned, black-eyed, black-haired baby and you honestly think this is my son? I am NOT ready for children, I mean if I knew going in that it would turn out a raging triumph like myself well than yeah, alright, I guess I'll have some babies.
On the drive home I spent the entire time wondering if it was going to pee on me and what exactly makes it so squirmy.

I can't think of a title for this post...I'm sleepy...

At a restaurant the other night I saw a cat nearby and wanted to entice it over with some chicken. I made the universal cat noise.

Taryn: "pssss-psssss-pssssssss"

The cat doesn’t even blink. Doesn’t acknowledge me, won’t even deign to look at me.

Khalil: "no no Taryn! These are Arabic cats! They don’t speak English! They need a translator, ‘psss psss psss’ in Arabic is tcho-tcho-tcho (tongue clicking noise)."

And the cat immediately came bounding over! How funny is that?

bah...sorry!

I also played little jokes on two of my students today- I, a Hanley girl, have a rather healthy regard for my own abilities. In fact I find myself thoroughly enjoyable. I mean I think I’m pretty dang great, I think I would definitely be my own friend. In addition to being delightful in all manner of company, I feel that I am smart, talented and QUITE HILARIOUS. I don’t know that my little jokes always delight other people though…
One of my students had to make up an exam that she had been absent for. In order to avoid all distractions I decided to take her up to the library and have the staff proctor the test. Gamely, she gathered all her stuff and followed me to the stairwell. Just to see her reaction I blew past the library and proceeded to take her all the way up on to the roof of the building. I went over to a dark, dusty corner, plopped down her exam on the roof and said “There you go! I’ll be back in 45 minutes. Good luck, no cheating!!” and turned to walk away.
I gotta give her so much credit here, she with only slight hesitation and a muttered, “yes teacher….” started to sit down on the dirty rooftop! It was completely hysterical. Hah! Good one! And so dang professional! I then took her down to the clean, blessedly air-conditioned library and we all had a good laugh over it.

Today as I was lazing about the office, shirking my duties (no I wasn’t!), one of my favorite students came up to me and asked to see his grade- Upstairs I had his final exam, session-long grades, and proficiency certification that allows him to move to higher level courses. We got about three quarters of the way up to my classroom chit-chatting idly when I whirled on him, “Hey Waleed, I don’t even know why we are going all the way up here. I don’t have a certificate or anything for you, unless of course you want to see just how badly you failed this course.” All the color drained from his face and he stopped dead in his tracks. “OH I’M SO SORRY! WALEED! OH I WAS JOKING! THAT WASN’T FUNNY AT ALL! OH I’M SO SORRY!! YOU DID GREAT, YOU DID SO WELL!!! SORRRYYY! WAHHHHHHHH!” I felt so bad I gave him a piece of cake. After sufficient recovery time, we all had a good laugh over it.

Oh heyyy girls

IT’S OVER!! I successfully made it through my first session being a real-life, somewhat professional, adult, English teacher! It was utterly exhausting! I have received SEVERAL concerned emails- am I all right?! Did something happen?!?! Why haven’t I been blogging?! WHAT’S HAPPENING!?
Yes, yes, of course I’m all right, sillys! This last week has been extraordinarily chaotic- Saturday final class reviews, Sunday oral exams- we all had to proctor orals for classes other than our own(because I totally play favorites…), Monday final written exams, Tuesday final grades due- for the entire session! Also btw, final grades actually means, FINAL MATH!! Those who know me can imagine just how well I reacted to hours of intricate number calculations... This included the grades for the 12 page final that they had literally JUST DONE. I spent 7 hours grading in one sitting. And then there were many more sittings. And today was feedback day aka students milling about whining about their grades, demanding clarification, trying to steal copies of the exams, insisting upon higher marks…etc. It was a trial and a tribulation. I did however come to love my students very, very much. They are so kind, and earnest, and sweet. Although teaching is in NO WAY a part of my overall career aspirations, I can see (somewhat!) why people continue to do it.
There was one unexpected and delightful surprise though! The unveiling of the ladies! I have many burka wearers in my first class, and at first it seemed that I was fighting insurmountable odds trying to figure out who they were- initially I was only moderately successful pretending that I knew who they were- I came to dread handing back papers, awkwardly pretending to be super engrossed in the papers as I would call out their name, and try and catch some sort of movement out of the corner of my eye that would show who was who. Clearly I wasn’t fooling anyone as they always sat in the same seats and I knew all the boys names and would just had them their papers without any awkward name-calling or excessive sweating. It was also difficult to tell who was talking, with their entire faces covered I often found myself staring at one girl only to hear, “uh teacher… over here please” and I would turn to fine the actual speaker. Embarrassing. As time went on I became extremely familiar with their eyes. Seriously though, out of a line-up of burka clad women, I could pick out my girls no problem.
I have always wondered how little children find there mothers in crowded places when all women are dressed exactly the same, covered head to toe in black. I guess I understand it a lot better now. So today after class all the women brought cakes and cookies, and juice and tea and we had a mini-party on my desk. I shut the door to keep the air-conditioning in, and after glancing about the room- acknowledging that their were no longer any men present- one-by-one they started unveiling. I did NOT see that coming. I was like WHATT?!?! YOU’RE TAKING OFF YOUR VEILS?! COOOOOOOOL! I couldn’t have been less non-chalant about it and it was such a wonderful treat to finally see my students, to see more than just a pair of eyes smiling at me. We had food, and laughed, and talked and talked. Every once and awhile there would be a knock on the door, I would spring up and open the door just a crack “oh bint, bint” they would say and allow the girls to enter. Finally I had to let the men in and they all re-veiled. The faces that were so new and unexpected became sets of familiar, piercing black eyes all over again. But it was so touching that they wanted to let me see their faces before our time together was through.

I miss my little darlings

Oh Yems!

I had a new go to catch phrase this morning, "Yems" short for "Yemen" curtesy of my beloved roommate Kate Marvel. An example being "How's Yems treating you?" or "Oh Yems! You are wild!" It tickled me so much that I even went so far as to try it out in class today.

Student- says something earnest but both nonsensical and inconsequential

My reply- "No no no! Of course not! Maybe in Yems...."

Alas it seems to lack the staying power I suspected it might possess... my class just stared at me in open-mouthed confusion and everyone else just ignored it without skipping a beat. What's that silly American talking about now?

A Reoccurring Theme..

Dear Ben,
Could you please keep your GIANT head out of my pictures?
Thanks so much! Hugs and kisses,
Taryn

Yarr! There be pirates here!

A couple of weekends ago the Muhammad’s took us to Little Aden. This is an area renown for its beautiful and sparsely populated beaches. Many parts are accessible only on foot or by boat. At the Muhammad’s prompting, Ben, Matt, our new friend Alex (who came to us via couchsurfing.com) and I got on a decrepit part-wood, part-fiberglass glorified rowboat with an outboard motor. AND THEN WE WERE OFF! We went from standstill instantly to 30 knots- it was hysterical to watch leisure swimmers turn panicky as we whizzed past them with only inches to spare and watch as they were buffeted about in our wake.
The waves were surprisingly choppy and at first Muhammad tried to avoid the bigger ones lest we be drenched in sea water. The sun was boiling lava hot, the sky clear, and the waves a stunning aquamarine. Later spurned on by our laughter he gunned the boat through the choppy surf, we were just NAILING the waves and flying through the air- truly air-born more often than floating. My shrieks of exhilarated delight quickly turned to yelps of anguish and fear but all sound was lost in the roaring wind. We were sitting on planks of wood hammered into the gunwales- literally no cushion or give at all. Every wave we crested sent us plummeting back to sea in a bone-jarring, boat-crushing impact. I was wearing a hat to protect my delicate, lady-like skin from the harmful rays of the sun but the extreme force of the wind kept whipping it off of my head. Zipping across the water felt like ridding a bucking bronco- I had one hand holding my hat in place, the other tenuously clutching onto the boat for dear life. With the sounds the boat was making and the incredible pressure upon impact I still cannot believe that the boat wasn’t shattered into a million pieces and three Americans and a Spaniard never to be seen again… We pulled up to deserted strip of beach surrounded by wadis, dropped anchor, and came ashore.
The scenery was simply breathtaking- endless water as far as the eye cold see, our stretch of beach, empty save for the occasional jutting cliff face, or sprawling dune. Ever tried to run up a giant mountain of sand? No easy feat, even if the sand wasn’t boiling lava hot. That brief bit of exertion utterly exhausted me. After a while I arranged some sand just so, and curled up for a leisurely nap under the shade of a cliff face.
After a while I went to explore a dried up river bed for and roamed around some wadis. There were some old abandoned bunkers from Aden’s last civil war in 1994- it was straight out of the apocalypse, buildings and supplies abandoned where they lay. There wasn’t a soul in site. It was amazing to be so utterly alone. Not a noise to be heard except the gentle lapping of the waves upon the sandy beach. Eventually two of the Muhammads went back to civilization to get some lunch. They were gone for an alarmingly long time- so long that it prompted many discrete glances, and hushed convos between Ben, Matt and I- Wait? They are coming back today, right? They brought back a giant pot of zurbiyan(chicken cooked with rice, potatoes and lime) and a pot of tea. We all squatted around a communal platter grabbing handfuls of food and trying to breach the language barrier.
Throughout the day the Muhammads would periodically stop to pray. Muhammad Ali, an Imam, lead them singing out the call to prayer. It was awesome to see them miles from civilization on a deserted beach debate over which direction lies Mecca, and perform the ritual washings in pools of sea water and scrub with sand.

It was a truly wonderful day.

perfectly timed mid-jump-for-joy

In other news that was the first time I went on a boat, but have since been on several. I know that there are endless reports of lawlessness and pirating(pirateering? piratry?) (more commonly referred to as swashbuckling) but I haven't seen any evidence of it. And I'm looking.

No but seriously, what the eff?

As I’ve mentioned, throughout my life I have been plagued by sleeping problems- as a means of rectifying this problem I have taken to wearing a sleepy eye mask to bed. I’ve been wearing them for so long that I can’t even think about sleep without one. I’m addicted to my sleepy mask. My mask is personal, intrinsic to my sleep process, and utterly crucial. Please don’t touch it.
Usually when someone is idly lounging on my bed they start playing with my sleepy mask; stretching out the elastic, shooting it at people like a rubber band, or worst and by far most common of all, WEARING it- I don’t like that. I don’t like your face touching my face. Because of these trying situations I go through a fair amount of them. Plus without fail if I’m traveling I leave it tangled in the hotel sheets, or forgotten on various modes of transportation. Assuming it would be rather difficult to find the soothing, satiny sleepy masks that kiss my eyes closed at night and induce blessed, blissful slumber, I packed an entire years supply. In fact I packed quite an overabundance of them.
Much to my chagrin I pretty much instantly lost one upon arrival here. Okay, no problem I have MANY more. But I just kept losing them. Its not like I misplaced them- I didn’t wake up and accidently wear it around the apartment during my morning ritual and absentmindedly leave it in the kitchen. I actually LOST them. As in tore-the-house-apart looking, never-to-be-seen-again lost them. ALL OF THEM. I seriously don’t have a single one left. It BOGGLES MY MIND. My roommate and I have spent an excessive amount of time discussing this conundrum- where do they go?!?! I really just don’t get it. They are truly just not in the apartment anymore. I even did that thing were I looked in the least likely place it would ever be? Nope, not stuffed in the dirty, crawlspace between the refrigerator and the stove. They aren’t anywhere. Have I started sleepwalking in a heat-induced fog? Does a small animal come and spirit them away from my face in the middle of the night? What is going on?!? In one month I have lost a YEAR’S SUPPLY of sleepy masks. We have torn the house apart looking for them, I just cannot even fathom where they could be. Because my bedroom has EIGHT windows there is pretty much always a shining beacon of light straight into my eyes so a mask is crucial. Lately I have taken to tying a hijab around my face at night and waking up hours later, cloaked in my own sweat, suffocating on the voluminous fabric. It’s extremely perplexing.

My first holiday in Yemen!

Happy Easter everyone! Have I mentioned yet that Yemen is a Muslim country? Not so much with the Easter celebration here…I don’t know about you, but I find the complete and total lack of sugar-coma inducing Cadbury eggs, chocolate bunnies, jelly beans, and the fake plastic grass that you continue to find on your clothing for weeks after Easter a little disheartening. Where was the in-your-face bombardment of giant bunnies and chocolate explosions for the last month and a half? I did eat some Nutella spread out of a jar with a spoon though- clearly the day wasn’t a total loss!
My last few Easters have been slightly unorthodox. Here’s a little Easter rehash for you-

Five years ago- found me at a small, community wide barbeque on the beach of a miniscule Honduran island. They served barbequed iguana!

Four years ago- I went to the Sterrett’s house in Coopersburgh, Pennsylvania for family dinner with my softball team. We had a mini egg hunt, and I- thinking myself immensely clever- snagged the giant, ornamental, Russian egg that they had on their mantle and claimed myself ultimate egg hunt winner. Because hellooo surely this giant, wooden egg counts for at least 20 of those dinky plastic eggs, right? No one was particularly amused.

Three years ago- I found myself in Worcester, Massachusetts playing 1000 softball games against a religiously affiliated school on EASTER SUNDAY. I still find it wildly incongruous that we would play a religious school on the holiest of days… We spent the evening stuck in hotel and some of the parents, feeling fey, stashed some candy eggs around the small hotel courtyard for us to find. Hopped up on boredom and immaturity we all started racing around the courtyard snagging up eggs. I distinctly remember that there was one egg that somebody had hidden within the thorny confines of a fiercely spiky plant. I dashed up to it, instantly recognized the perils therein and moved on to greener pastures. So did a great number of my teammates. Not Flo. With nary a thought, she plunged her whole arm into the plant, yelped in agony and retracted her arm- she was bleeding profusely from several abrasions but by god, she had that extra mini- Reese’s pieces cup to show for it.

Two years ago we had a big dinner at the Sterretts in Pennsylvania again. And there transpired a TOTALLY UNFAIR EASTER EGG HUNT THAT SHENDAZE, PALMS AND I ARE STILL EXTREMELY BITTER ABOUT(and therefore cannot talk about without getting all riled up). In fact I found it so upsetting that I couldn't even repeat my funny wooden egg joke from two years previous which, clearly, was everbody's loss. After that we all went to Casa Mia for some Jager bombs. Mortal sin?

Last year- I was in Brooklyn, New York visiting my friend from High School, Ben. I spent the preponderance of Easter with a Honduran family THAT I DID NOT KNOW. I literally spent HOURS lugging furniture and boxes back and forth across Brooklyn for this family, and I can only rationalize their behavior in two ways- they either thought I was dating one of them, or they thought I worked for one of them. Either way it took hours for me to get away.


And Easter 2009- YEMEN!! WOO-HOOO! To celebrate life, my family made me tea and served a gelatinous, brown, sticky confection that tasted like toffee and looked like… something.. shall we say… unsavory.

Hurry up and wait

I have noticed that some cultures have a loose definition of "on time" in Honduras it was always "manana, manana, siempre manana"(tomorrow, tomorrow, always tomorrow) and here I have taken to saying "bookora, bookora, bookora" (tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow). I happen to have a high regard for punctuality(in most instances) and have been trying to instill the healthy habit of punctuality into my students BY DEVASTATING THEIR ATTENDANCE RECORD WITH MY LITTLE RED PEN! I jest...

I have one student that is chronically late. Only a few minutes, but just enough to disrupt the whole flow(I know exactly where he is coming from because for one class in college, I too, was "chronically late girl". I would bustle in right after class started, wildly plop down in my chair, make an explosion of rustling and noise as i settled in, and then proceed to doodle pictures of palms trees for the remainder of the period). So he casually mentioned attendance and tardies one day and I was all HECK YES I'VE BEEN MARKING YOU LATE.

I teach from 8:15-10:15 and then 10:30-12:30. He is in the later class, and he usually busts in around 10:35-40ish or so. So the other day he explodes into the room at 25 after the hour- "oh teacher look! 25 after! I'm on time! I'm actually five minutes early! No tardy for me today!" and then he looked around at all the startled faces staring him down. He hadn't come at 10:25, he came at 9:25, an HOUR and five minutes early, right in the middle of my other class! It was really sweet. But then I made him go sit in the lobby for an hour. oopsies.

He's back and he's better than ever!

THE ROOSTER IS BACK! I am aware that this is the third time I've mentioned this rooster. I am also aware that three far surpasses the amount of times that anyone, at any point should ever mention a rooster. But he's back, AND HE'S PISSED.

This would NOT happen to Fuffy!

Today in class I asked my students if they had any pets- I have seen a lot of feral cats and dogs around, all of which could kick the living shit out of any pet I've ever had, so I was just curious what the deal was. At first the concept of "pet" was a bit hard to grasp, "bet? Bit? What this mean?" "No no pet, you know like a dog or cat that you bring into your home and it lives with you?" Then they were all summarily horrified at the idea of a cat or dog IN their home. Finally the concept sunk in "oh yes teacher! Pets! Yes we have lots of pets. Chickens, goats, lambs. Yes, yes lottts of pets!" I was like oh wow, huh, that's cool and we moved on. A few minutes later it dawned on me, "wait wait wait, do you eat those pets?!" "Of course we do teacher! Delicious!" Okay that's just not a pet... in America we don't usually eat our pets but yeah, alright, similar.

Sorry! I guess my ringer was on silent...

Yemen doesn’t have voicemail. It just doesn’t exist. As an adaptation to that, the Yemenis have developed “the callback”. In order to make a call or send a text you must first purchase units, or minutes. There truly isn’t a better system, there are no cell phone “plans”- you prepay minutes with one of the three phone companies in the area. In fact many people have multiple phones, one for each phone company, because calls between companies take so many units per call that it is cheaper to have a phone number for each company and use it only for calls within the same network(like Verizon to Verizon, Cingular to Cingular). You use units when you make a call or send a message, not when you are the recipient. If someone is low on units they will start giving you “missed calls” which essentially means that you should call them back.
I am shall we say, disinclined to talk on the phone. I am notorious for shamelessly screening phone calls (no! I don’t ever screen your calls!) and I like to wait for at least 10 voicemails to build up before I condescend to check it. Also I absolutely loathe pointless voicemails. My Father is by far the worst offender in all mankind, “hey pumpkin….it’s your ‘ol poppa….just calling you(really? So that’s what you were doing)…okay….bye!” I firmly believe that if it is truly important, you will call back. But here without voicemail I am forced to answer AND to return calls lest I offend someone. “Hey Taryn I left you callbacks! What happened?” “Bah…I screened your call and then went to the beach?” No? that’s rude? I have already far surpassed all plausible excuses and now I am a slave to my phone. When they leave you callbacks, you call back. End of story. I find it vexing.

A note on Photographs-

I try, I try. But it’s so dang bulky. I bought a large, fancy-pants SLR to get into photography but hey, wouldn’t ya know it I’m still just as instant gratification as ever and it takes too long/too much effort to lug it around all the d-word time. I don’t have the right lenses and I’m just over it. But I am trying.

Fun and Frivolity

The other day I ran into a friend that speaks English. He was with a friend of his who doesn’t speak any English at all. After exchanging some pleasantries he turned to introduce his friend. Knowing full well that his friend wouldn’t understand a word, he said, “this is my friend Ahmed” (upon hearing his name, Ahmed started smiling and nodding vigorously) “He’s a biiiiig terrorist!” as Ahmed continued to smile and nod. We all got a big kick out of it.

ALSO

Here is a great joke that I have been spreading far and wide to anyone who will listen and shamelessly claiming as my own-

What is the favorite treat of people from Yemen?!
Yemen M's!
Bahahahaha! A big thanks to Aunt Linda for that little gem.

And 15 minutes later I finally understand

I have a new friend! His name is Muhammad Ali ( The other Muhammad’s introduced us, surprise) and he speaks not a one word of English. He is a funny (when I have a translator) and exuberant young man and also an Imam(Muslim religious leader).
He just recently bought a new car that he is immensely proud of. Upon leaving my family’s house the other day I found him nonchalantly leaning against his car right outside their doorway. He mysteriously beckoned me forth into the upper levels of a shopping center where we met another friend, Waseem. Waseem proposed that now that Muhammad Ali had a new car he could pick me up everyday and bring me to my family’s house so I would no longer have to navigate the perils of public transportation (which I’m a dang expert at!). I was effusive in my thanks but tried to politely decline- I enjoy being among the masses and seeing real Yemeni life. They were pretty adamant and, not wishing to appear rude or ungrateful, I politely acquiesced. At first I was a bit put-off with this excessive, rather forceful display of hospitality but now I just embrace it. As with two extreme language beginners our communicative style usually goes something like this-

First he will say a flurry of Arabic

I will smile with a quizzical look in my eye, shake my head and fling up my hands.

He will repeat it, then repeat it faster, then repeat it much, much louder.

I will start guessing any and all Arabic words I know (often making up new ones) in the hopes that I will hit on something close to what he is saying.

He will roll his eyes heavenward, pull the car over and laboriously WRITE it in Arabic. OH! That’s what you meant? I didn’t understand the first 15 times you said it bit in your messy, foreign Arabic scrawl, NOW IT ALL MAKES SENSE.

Finally we will figure it out/flag down a passerby to help/ give up (often).

Then I will treat him to a barrage of English and the process is repeated except I do the eye-rolling this time.

We usually communicate in gestures and pointing or by figuring it out in a puzzlingly roundabout manner- He will point to himself, “man”, and then to me, “woman”. Then he will point to his ring finger.. oh! Married. Okay from there we get to “little man” or “little woman” okay…ahh Children! Okay children… children… what they hell are you trying to say about children? Oh! You were merely pointing out that cute baby that we passed by FIFTEEN minutes ago! “Yes, yes, cute baby” I say in my awesome accent.

Often times he will say something and then just drive off- I am forced to go who knows where often for extended periods of time until I can finally get him back on track and get me home! We are both practicing each other’s language and slowly but steadily learning. Every day we will use one or two new words and laugh and highfive when we use it correctly. I’m enjoying it immensely.

We are juvenile

I am often asked by my new Muslim friends and family, young, impressionable students, or colleagues that I'm still trying to impress, whether or not I have Facebook. "Facebook? umm...nope... I wish! Here's my email address though..."

And this is exactly why.

I'm a frickin bombshell

A note on all things sartorial-
Muslim culture mandates that all women not wearing abaya dress extremely conservatively. I was told to wear long sleeved, loose, long shirts, in a light material, that were a size larger than usual so as not show off my comely figure (unfortunately I assumed this was the rule for pants as well, and at a size too large I find myself harrowingly close to mooning people every day).
The other day I was wearing the other day was a very becoming shade of turquoise with little blue embroidered flowers in a long tunic form. I fear it might have been unsuitable though- not due to an inappropriately plunging neckline, nor was my problem exposed midriff, rather for an unfortunately clingy, stretchy accentuation of my ladyparts.
Before I moved I picked up what I thought was a sufficiency of such garments, assuming that they would be readily available here. Such is NOT the case. Ladies fashion is..umm…singular. Beneath the flowing, billowy black abayas, women care wear whatever they wish. Upon investigation it appears that none of the women wish to wear long, loose, body-shielding attire, THEY WANT TO IN A BRITTNEY SPEARS MUSIC VIDEO. All garments are comprised of one part shiny, one part stretchy, one part gemstone bedazzled, and one part dangling appurtenances. Even at my most chic, I am blessedly aware, that I simply cannot pull off dangling appurtenances.

Death comes a knockin'

The other day my family and I were laughing and laughing recounting the numerous ridiculous things they force me to eat(okay that’s a lie, I readily eat them, and with great aplomb too!) Generally they all seem to be in the flora genre. Thus far- several tasty specimens of bitter and acidic green leaf of varying sizes and consistencies(sometimes sprinkled with sugar) a couple varieties of tree bark(straight from a dirty bag, or mixed with coconut and served on…a bitter and acidic green leaf) also an assortment of root vegetables and tubers I have never seen the likes of before(usually served boiling-lava-hot from a giant street side cauldron) some interesting, flesh-colored seed pods(that I have seen the birds spit up) and of course small slivers of salty cheese served on a dirty blanket by a disheveled man on the street corner of an alley. As they were joyously proffering another Yemeni “delicacy” to me the other night I turned quite boastful, I CAN EAT ANYTHING! I NEVER GET SICK! I LOVE ALL FOOD! BRING IT ON YEMEN!! And Yemen? Let me tell you, Yemen brought it on.
The reason for my paucity of posts in recent days is because I WAS PRACTICALLY ON MY DEATH BED!! This is clearly a complete and total exaggeration but I gotta tell you, it was rough. I had a high fever, the shakes, the chills, super dizzy, extreme nausea, and sweating up a storm. Straight miserable. And it struck hard in the middle of the night.
It has recently come to my attention that I might just be extremely incompetent. That or I’ve never actually been sick on my own- without a beloved family member or roommate to coddle me (bring me toast!! Okay that one is just for Claire when I’m hungover..). Upon busting awake and bolting to the bathroom to throw up in the middle of the night, hazy, incoherent panic started to set in. First order of business? Water. I knew that I needed to replenish all the liquids I was rapidly expelling from my body. I tried to remember all the things I had to drink that day…coffee, some tea.. a soda.. OH MY GOD I’M EXTREMELY DEHYDRATED!(Spurred on by extreme dizziness, nausea and a raging, mind-numbing headache, being dehydrated seemed tantamount to a death sentence in my mind) I stumbled into the kitchen “WHERE IS THE WATER!! WHERE ON EARTH IS ALL THE WATER!?!” Incapable of finding the myriad bottles, jugs and pitchers of water strewn throughout our apartment(and knowing, inexplicably, that tap water would only exacerbate my condition) I opted for the only thing I could find; strawberry nectar. Yes, that’s exactly what you want to drink when you’ve been heaving up your insides, saccharine sweet, syrupy, strawberry nectar. Another wise choice. Thirst temporarily assuaged I moved on to the next task at hand, cooling my sweat-doused, fever-addled body. Clearly I was functioning at a very low level. A lack of contacts only heightened my fog. Fumbling around the coffin-sized bathroom, blind as a bat, I turned on the shower and flung myself in- not even hesitating to take off my clothing. It’s for times like this that I wish, oh how I wish I could go back and review my thought process. Cleary, at the time, throwing myself into the shower fully clothed AND THEN ripping them all off to storm around the apartment sans clothing seemed like the correct choice at the time. But in hindsight, I’m really just not sure that it was…
Sopping wet I flopped back onto my bed in a feverish haze waking periodically to vomit and lie down again. This was the scene that my roommate Catherine happened upon when she woke up the next morning- I’m sure I looked extremely attractive.(luckily at some point I had donned clothing again, Alhamdulillah)

So that lasted for a couple days but I have now recovered!

Last week of classes we studied injuries and ailments and giving recommendations with should/shouldn’t. It proved useful because both my classes were able to solicitously inquire about my illness, ask what remedies I tried, and offer some generic advice. While I was down for the count I got a million calls, emails, and text messages from my family, friends, and several of my students to make sure I was okay, see if I needed anything, and to ask Allah for a speedy recovery for me. It was all really sweet. Across the board whenever a Yemeni heard my symptoms, instead of thinking virus or food poisoning they immediately, matter-of-factly replied, “ohhhhh yep, its because of the weather change.” What? The weather change of stiflingly hot to a mite bit hotter? I guess I was unaware that a slight heat increase from 100 to 105 degrees was capable of inducing a three-day vomit fest. WELL PLAYED YEMEN, WELL PLAYED.

A picture is worth a thousand words!

Oh hey fellas!

Alex(from couchsurfing.com) and Ben!

got this shark