Spicin' things up! I hope

Nafisa: Taryn, I would like you to go roll around in that fetid pool of fish guts over there. Can you do that for me?
Taryn: Uh…sure Nafisa.. I’ve got plans this afternoon, but I can do it later tonight maybe.
Nafisa: No, actually I was hoping you could do it now. Do it right now.
Taryn: Sure, yeah, no problem. I’ll go do it right now? Sounds good, I’ll go do that right now. Exactly how long would you like me to roll about in that putrid mess? Okay, I’m going now. Thanks Nafisa!

I don’t know how she does it, but that innocuous-looking, grandmotherly, old Yemeni woman has got me wrapped around her little finger! She will frequently come sleuth me out in the teacher’s room, and as she is barreling down on me, I make eye contact with Amira who makes a “S” shape on her forehead and mouths the word “sucker!” at me. Everyone knows I'm completely incapable of denying this woman a damn thing.
Because of my inexplicable inability to say no to this woman I have done a million, mostly spur-of-the moment activities such as
- gave 3.5 hour lecture and discussion on President Obama’s address to the Muslim world in Cairo and the social, political, and cultural ramifications of such a speech- I, the facilitator, was also the only non-Muslim present. A bit daunting.
- Helped plan and supervise many student community/cultural events- beach clean-up, visits to local refugee camps, historical ship viewing and presentations, etc
- Consulting, supervising, and advising on the final projects of the Yemeni scholarship students.
-delivered a many hour, many day lecture-series on such interesting topics as- civic participation and volunteerism in present day America, America: a history in brief, and a timeline of American social change. I was all, listen.. I’m only 23.. wasn’t really around for all this social change/ couldn't care less either way
-allowed local teachers/wannabe teachers to job shadow me, and review my classes
-more minutiae, add tedium ad nauseum

So the other day Nafisa informed me that some new teachers are coming at the end of September (nice!), and asked me to write one of them an email talking about Yemen, living here, teaching here, life here, etc. I’ve had to do this a few times for various other teachers and it was no problem. After I sent an email I got rather anxious about it- did I just send an informative, albeit perhaps viewed as condescending email to an older career-teacher, someone with far, far more experience than I? Or was this a good email, the type I wish someone had bothered to send me before I packed up my life and moved a million miles away from everything that was familiar. Hmmmm… I decided to Google the teachers name, maybe, just maybe I could deduce who this gal was- another old-lady teacher? A possible kindred spirit? In the very least it would assuage any absurd anxiety I was feeling.
I knew her name, and where she was from- AND THIS IS WHAT I DISCOVERED!!
http://www.trinitynews.ie/articles.php?tn=1&issue=8&id=492
Oh my god! Could this be her?! I still have no idea her age or anything personal, this probably isn’t her. BUT WHAT IF IT IS!?! This is exactly the type of person that Yemen needs. WILD.

Amira or, as our boss continues to incorrectly call her, Amiri

I never ever talk about Amira except for maybe my initial post- She’s the lady of an ambiguous age, with the super mysterious past culminating in converting to Islam (or rather, “reverting” to Islam. Islam is the “natural” state of human existence, so you don’t convert to Islam, you revert back to the way things should be..) and moving from Jersey ( shout out to The Squan!) with her FIVE teenage sons. I find her completely intriguing. She is smart and hysterical and I’m enjoying her immensely. She’s also consistently late- a trait I meet with fierce gazes, audible sighs of exasperation, and flashing pen to the attendance sheet with my students, but which I find oddly endearing with her- she comes in in a great frenzy, burka whipping about, waving her gigantic hands in the air (seriously though, think Seinfeld, the lady with man-hands episode), flinging papers about and causing quite a stir. She has not been forthcoming about her story, ergo I have not inquired.

I never saw too much of her, she lives all the way in Sheikh and clearly has her hands full with five boys to look after. Also I have always taught early mornings, she in the evenings. But now with Ramadan hitting mid-session, none of the teachers wanted mornings – just imagine, teacher and teenage/whiny students, listless and unmotivated, ravaged by dehydration and hypoglycemia, endeavoring to retain our spirits and keep our thoughts on Allah-and grammar… sounds like pure misery, and yes, it kinda is. So she was able to request mornings and I continued to be stuck with them. Mornings are, shall we say, difficult for me. I pretty much look and feel like hell. I have a wild mane of hair, I wear a sleepy mask- so the first light of the morning is a shock to my system, and before I put my contacts in I’m blind as a d-word bat wearing my huge, coke-bottle glasses. In an extremely uncharitable moment, my beloved college roommates gave me the sobriquet, “mole-face” as I emerge from my little cocoon squinting, and stumbling into the light of day [see fig. 1]

Pre-Ramadan, because of my recent addition of a French press AND Starbucks coffee Amira, Ansam- another Yemeni teacher, and I made plans to meet in the teacher's room in the morning before class- I to make fresh brewed coffee, Amira to bring some homemade banana muffins. I awoke in the morning in my usual fog, groaning because it was even earlier than usual but I instantly perked up at the thought of an actual bakery-like item. When I got to Amideast, no Amira. Okay, that’s fine, I thought, I’ll just enjoy a delicious, life-giving cup by myself. Time continued its inevitable ascent and still no Amira. The brief window we had for our breakfast date involved me genteelly sipping coffee, staring across the expanse of the conference table at Ansam, both of us staring at the clock, back at each other and then giggling uncomfortably for absolutely no reason. Where the hell were our muffins?!

Amira is known as a strict teacher I am…not.
So during breaks I’ll go into her class and talk for a few minutes- it’s hysterical because we just feed off each other. It’s awesome to have a fast-talking American and we get each other all riled up talking about cultural absurdities/outrages, social and sartorial faux pas, making fun of our students (no we don't!), and our fervent desires to hold “social cues and awareness” classes for all of Yemen. The students look on with open-mouthed awe because we are talking soo fast, using slang and expressions, and just cracking up. It’s all just highly unprofessional. This is a side of their reserved, middle-agedish (?) teacher that they don’t really get to see, and they just love it.
The other day I gave her the name and number of my realtor so she could move closer to Amideast. After giving it the once over she cavalierly, albeit inadvertently (or so she claims!) cast it to the floor with out another glance. I took this as the incredible personal affront it so clearly was and used the proceeding moments to cast vociferous aspersions on her character and castigate her for her blatant perfidy and disregard for our glorious friendship.
Amira: Okay yes, yes, I realize this was a total betrayal but first, may I just inquire, when exactly did we form this “glorious friendship” I guess I’m not sure about the timeline.
Taryn: Oh? Well clearly we first embarked on this journey called friendship about six months ago we found ourselves sitting on a bench in a derelict medical clinic getting government mandated HIV tests. We looked around, saw the array of dirty bandages, and bloody swabs strewn about the room, made eye contact, and the rest is history.
Amira: Ahhh yes, that was a pretty great moment for us, you’re right. But glorious…?
Taryn: I know! Then we had about five months of occasional office sightings, one teachers meeting when you quibbled with Kors about spelling lists for an hour and threatened to ruin our friendship forever , but then there was that time when you stood me up for pre-classes mini breakfast THREE days in a row…
Amira: and that was when our glorious friendship started…?
Taryn: well duh.

[fig. 1] Heyy you big pretty!

Trying to assimilate quickly becomes failing to assimilate

There are four other new teachers along with me
Katherine- my roommate/from South Africa
Ben- from Portland, Oregon!
Matt- the guy who found me in Jordan
Amira- a recent Muslim convert who brought her FIVE sons with her from America

We are all getting along wonderfully (As we were all hanging out yesterday, Ben says “this feels absurdly like summer camp. Shall we do an icebreaker?” hah) But I’m having an especially good time with Matt and Ben. We are buddies, and its nice to be roaming around with men, not as a single, young, American girl.

Yesterday, Nafisa-our academic coordinator- took us out for a traditional Yemeni meal. Lunch is the main meal of the day and let me tell you, it was a feast! We had platters of chicken cooked with potatoes and onion on rice, huge roasted legs of lamb and goat(DELICIOUS), whole grilled fish, a variety of paste-items(similar consistency as hummus but made of chili peppers and yogurt) and HUGE pieces of bread as big and flat as a pizza to eat it with. We just dug right in. No germs in family. You eat everything with your hands and rip of pieces of bread and just get after it. To finish the meal we ended with platters of fresh fruit(mango, papaya, oranges, bananas and limes). It was just about the messiest dining experience of my life. They rolled out big pieces of plastic to cover the table but it hardly contained the fiasco that was our attempt to eat like a Yemeni.