can we just stop for a moment and acknowledge that the Eagles picked up Michael Vick? He's been out of the game for three years and I guess didn't even make the trip to Lehigh to participate in training camp- which is probably a good thing because I know a bunch of people at the Lehigh athletics department wanted to brutally assault him after the news of his dog-fighting ring came out. I just don't quite know how I feel about him joining my team. Also the second game of pre-season is against my other fav NFL team, the colts! Eagles versus Colts?! I've been anxiously awaiting this game- my two fellas facing off, McNabb v. P. Manning, for ages and ages. I can't believe that a) I'm missing it because I'm in Yemen and b) I'm going to miss the ENTIRE season because... I'm in Yemen.
Life without football = hardly any life at all
-no NFL sundays with wingies, beers and kipper and kitten
-no monday night football watching my boys play
-no playoffs, no superbowl, no superbowl PARTY...
I've been preparing myself for this day, but it still hit hard. Fall and football season is by faaaar my favorite time of year. I'm despairing over the fact that I won't get to feel the air change and rejoice in the crispness of fall coming, see the leaves change color, see the cloud of my breath as the coolness comes, start to wear jackets and scarves again, smell the rain, cuddle up with roommates, kittens, or a good book, have a cup of hot apple cider and bake cookies.. I guess maybe I'm just despairing over the fact that this is my first fall without being at school or living with friends. This has been a year of extreme change and although it's been wonderful I still grow pretty nostalgic on the regular and miss my girls, miss the crazy, absurd, WONDERFUL life we all had together.
One of my all time favorite memories-
we had a superbowl party at my house(club 425, ahh! good times!) My roommates and I made an epic Mexican Fiesta/taco night feast. We had also made our all time fav funfetti cake, and had buckets of cold beers and mixed adult delicousness. Most of the softball and basketball team was crowded into our living room, gorging on food, downing frosty cold ones, and watching football. We were all just enjoying each others company when one of the girls looked around and said
" look at this? A room FULL of girls, drinking beer and watching football, and no guy made us do this, ya know, we're pretty lucky." I miss that.
Showing posts with label hopes and dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hopes and dreams. Show all posts
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Do you have my care package? Please?
I got a care package the other day and it was truly one of the great moments in my life. I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited about something.
I had anxiously been awaiting it for some time- there was a kid in one of my classes, Khaled Ali, who showed up one day wearing a NEW ENGLAND PATRIOTS SUPERBOWL HAT. I was all, get the hell out of my room right now mister, you’re in the heart of EAGLES TERRITORY! He just had no idea what I was talking about, didn’t know where New England was, and had never heard of a patriot, but I knew. And it was killing me. I decided to have my mother send me my favorite Philly Eagles cap so I could rub it in his face and demonstrate my superior American football and Philadelphia Eagles knowledge ( I have washed Donovan McNabbs sweaty jock strap.) and hopefully publicly shaming him in the process. So I kept anxiously asking Sahar and Gehan and Nuhad and anyone at all who works in the office of Amideast but clearly is far too important to concern themselves with anything so trivial as getting the mail, if my care package had come yet. Nuhad is the accountant but for some reason I have chosen her as my go-to gal for all manner of questions I have. She has proven extremely helpful: ascertaining for me why all the chairs from our apartment went missing one day (they were taken away to get reupholstered), where to get extra whiteboard markers (ask one of the reception interns to open the supplies cupboard and get one for you), what do men do with their qat wad when it’s time for the call to prayer (they spit it out in a cup and then eat it again after prayers) and such.
I explained to them my insufferable situation (Khaled Ali’s hat openly taunting me in class) and what my eagerly anticipated care package would contain. Clearly this was a predicament. They taught me a few crucial phrases in Arabic so I could successfully go to the Post Office in Khormaksar, inquire about my package and ascertain its delivery status. I went every few days and it was chaos. Much like the banks, the government, the police…. It’s clear that nothing is coordinated here, nothing is synchronized and standardized. No wonder the “ how-long-will-this-letter-from-washington-to yemen” trial run took two months to get to me.
They just let me come into the back holding area where I pawed through boxes looking for something that originated in America. There weren’t any records except for a GIANT (seriously, it took up an entire table, the fella needed two hands to turn a page), ratty, hand-written old book that had illegible shorthand notations covering its pages. We took a nice twenty-minute interlude looking through the pages of that hefty tome in case they mysteriously held the key to where my care package was.
Every time I walked past the office Sahar and Nuhad asked me if I got my package yet, I would shake my head dolefully, we would commiserate silently for a moment and then optimistically they’d say, “no problem, insha’allah you will get it tomorrow!”
Finally I came to the Post Office one day and they triumphantly held up a slip of paper and told me to go the Post Office in Crater center. This too was a hand-written paper and it had in Arabic the word “Amika” on it. Bah… do they mean “America?” The piece of paper also had the name of a woman written on it. It was not my name, nor was it a name I had ever heard previously. Clearly this was worth investigating. Along the way I picked up Ben and we went to the Crater Post Office. I handed a man the paper and he went and rummaged in the back for awhile, grumbling and literally scratching his head in consternation. Eventually he came back to the window with two packages! One for the mystery lady and one for me! I had no id on me but I told him my name is Taryn, the label on that package says “Taryn” (he had to take my word on that one because he didn’t speak English) and that also I would like to take that other package as well. Ben had his Oregon driver’s license which he showed the man thus successfully proving that he's an oregon citizen... and the man unquestioningly gave us the packages. I popped my head into the office and held up the battered box for the ladies to see, we jumped up and down in excitement it and clapped our hands for joy. It was completely silly.
Package Contents:
- One French Press Coffee Maker! Alhamduliallah!
- Both Seattle’s Best AND Starbucks coffee
- Some gummy bears- really though? How often do you eat gummy bears? But let me tell you I enjoyed the hell out of those gummy bears
- A gooey completely melted sac of chocolate that really looked like a gooey sac of.. well…it was gross looking.
- MY EAGLES HAT! And other miscellaneous but equally delightful items.
The best thing was a little packet of pictures my mother had enclosed. This was clearly from an old disposable camera that I had left lying around. It had some pics of my parents and I camping along Washington’s astoundingly beautiful rivers, the kittens, my beautiful home and my parents posing with the kittens, and a couple of pics from my trip to DC with the girls right before I moved to Yemen. It was so very nice, it made me a little weepy.
So yeah! Finally got my care package – I got it at 1:15 on the very last day of my classes. Alas my classes, and my acquaintanceship with Khaled Ali, ended at 12:30. Foiled again! Damn you Tom Brady, damn you.
I had anxiously been awaiting it for some time- there was a kid in one of my classes, Khaled Ali, who showed up one day wearing a NEW ENGLAND PATRIOTS SUPERBOWL HAT. I was all, get the hell out of my room right now mister, you’re in the heart of EAGLES TERRITORY! He just had no idea what I was talking about, didn’t know where New England was, and had never heard of a patriot, but I knew. And it was killing me. I decided to have my mother send me my favorite Philly Eagles cap so I could rub it in his face and demonstrate my superior American football and Philadelphia Eagles knowledge ( I have washed Donovan McNabbs sweaty jock strap.) and hopefully publicly shaming him in the process. So I kept anxiously asking Sahar and Gehan and Nuhad and anyone at all who works in the office of Amideast but clearly is far too important to concern themselves with anything so trivial as getting the mail, if my care package had come yet. Nuhad is the accountant but for some reason I have chosen her as my go-to gal for all manner of questions I have. She has proven extremely helpful: ascertaining for me why all the chairs from our apartment went missing one day (they were taken away to get reupholstered), where to get extra whiteboard markers (ask one of the reception interns to open the supplies cupboard and get one for you), what do men do with their qat wad when it’s time for the call to prayer (they spit it out in a cup and then eat it again after prayers) and such.
I explained to them my insufferable situation (Khaled Ali’s hat openly taunting me in class) and what my eagerly anticipated care package would contain. Clearly this was a predicament. They taught me a few crucial phrases in Arabic so I could successfully go to the Post Office in Khormaksar, inquire about my package and ascertain its delivery status. I went every few days and it was chaos. Much like the banks, the government, the police…. It’s clear that nothing is coordinated here, nothing is synchronized and standardized. No wonder the “ how-long-will-this-letter-from-washington-to yemen” trial run took two months to get to me.
They just let me come into the back holding area where I pawed through boxes looking for something that originated in America. There weren’t any records except for a GIANT (seriously, it took up an entire table, the fella needed two hands to turn a page), ratty, hand-written old book that had illegible shorthand notations covering its pages. We took a nice twenty-minute interlude looking through the pages of that hefty tome in case they mysteriously held the key to where my care package was.
Every time I walked past the office Sahar and Nuhad asked me if I got my package yet, I would shake my head dolefully, we would commiserate silently for a moment and then optimistically they’d say, “no problem, insha’allah you will get it tomorrow!”
Finally I came to the Post Office one day and they triumphantly held up a slip of paper and told me to go the Post Office in Crater center. This too was a hand-written paper and it had in Arabic the word “Amika” on it. Bah… do they mean “America?” The piece of paper also had the name of a woman written on it. It was not my name, nor was it a name I had ever heard previously. Clearly this was worth investigating. Along the way I picked up Ben and we went to the Crater Post Office. I handed a man the paper and he went and rummaged in the back for awhile, grumbling and literally scratching his head in consternation. Eventually he came back to the window with two packages! One for the mystery lady and one for me! I had no id on me but I told him my name is Taryn, the label on that package says “Taryn” (he had to take my word on that one because he didn’t speak English) and that also I would like to take that other package as well. Ben had his Oregon driver’s license which he showed the man thus successfully proving that he's an oregon citizen... and the man unquestioningly gave us the packages. I popped my head into the office and held up the battered box for the ladies to see, we jumped up and down in excitement it and clapped our hands for joy. It was completely silly.
Package Contents:
- One French Press Coffee Maker! Alhamduliallah!
- Both Seattle’s Best AND Starbucks coffee
- Some gummy bears- really though? How often do you eat gummy bears? But let me tell you I enjoyed the hell out of those gummy bears
- A gooey completely melted sac of chocolate that really looked like a gooey sac of.. well…it was gross looking.
- MY EAGLES HAT! And other miscellaneous but equally delightful items.
The best thing was a little packet of pictures my mother had enclosed. This was clearly from an old disposable camera that I had left lying around. It had some pics of my parents and I camping along Washington’s astoundingly beautiful rivers, the kittens, my beautiful home and my parents posing with the kittens, and a couple of pics from my trip to DC with the girls right before I moved to Yemen. It was so very nice, it made me a little weepy.
So yeah! Finally got my care package – I got it at 1:15 on the very last day of my classes. Alas my classes, and my acquaintanceship with Khaled Ali, ended at 12:30. Foiled again! Damn you Tom Brady, damn you.
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..
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..
Monday, July 6, 2009
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…
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…
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Lumpy the Camel
This weekend I got to see my first ever camel farm! And by farm I mean a narrow, dusty, expanse of barren land located between two lanes of highway. These were my first real life, Middle Eastern camels! I had all sorts of pre-conceived notions that camels would be numerous and though clearly not a practical means of transportation or business, surely their use would be widespread. I pretty much thought I would spend frequent amounts of time riding camels or perhaps find life-giving sustenance in their milk/ subsist on the water in their humps if and/or when I got mislaid in the desert… My hopes were dashed upon the rocks of reality when I learned from my friend Muhammad(in case you haven’t realized yet, everyone I know is named Muhammad) that he, a native of Aden, had never once ridden a camel because helloooo this isn’t the 1800’s anymore.After observing (from
a distance! Camels are extremely brutish creatures!) the camels for a while we went to a nature reserve- the only of its kind in Aden. There were all sorts of birds and plants and it was really lovely and scenic. And then a surprise! Muhammad had arranged for a 
camel to come so we could ride it! Those who know me know that riding a camel is one of my all-time life goals. Woo-hoo check that one off the list!And let me tell you this- it is not a smooth ride. Riding it took every ounce of concentration and agility in my being. This was no picnic. And I, apparently, am no longer a spring-chicken. Camels have an extremely jarring, plodding gait and a GIANT HUMP RIGHT WHERE YOU SHOULD SIT. Pretty much the whole time I was clutching with all my might to a mangy tuft of hair and trying not to slide head over heels off the massive
ass of the rumina
nt.Matt and Muhammad Jamal
Thursday, March 26, 2009
I'm pretty famous
Last weekend I was roused from my blissful slumber and forced into helping to supervise a massive beach clean-up endeavor. I had hopes of being able to sleep in past 8am but no such luck! The beach-clean up was one of several yearly activities done by Amideast’s ACCESS students- ACCESS being students that study at Amideast from either U.S. or Yemeni government sponsored scholarships- providing that the students maintain certain academic criteria at both Amideast and at their regular public schools. It’s an extremely worthwhile program and is successful because the students are highly motivated- they know that if they don’t maintain academic standards and English proficiency levels they will lose their scholarship. Apparently this commendable work ethic DOES NOT translate to school-sanctioned manual labor.
The whole experience was a lesson in futility. From the get go it was poorly organized. After more than an hour and a half we finally got all the students shuttled over to the beach. It was the single most disgusting beach I have ever seen. Wandering around Yemen it is clear that they have different sanitation standards and procedures than we do but this was just ridiculous. Trash as far as the eye could see. One of the reasons that Aden enjoys such a high status as a tourist destination(relative to Yemen) is because of the beautiful beaches. Maintaining a modicum of sanitation clearly needs to be a much higher priority(for this particular beach, certainly not all, or even most).
This is the scene I was met with when I arrived at the beach with the last of the straggling students- just utter chaos. There were hundreds of Yemeni teenagers milling about aimlessly without a hint of guidance or direction. First order of business? Get them into groups. Okay not too bad. But then we had to give them garbage bags and gloves and designate work areas- I don’t know who planned this but they did a TERRIBLE job. It worked out to about one small garbage bag per every three students and far too few gloves.
Our cleanup attempt could not possibly have been more ineffectual; it was well over a hundred degrees, no one thought to provide water, there was a paucity of garbage bags and sanitary gloves, and did I mention that these were teenagers? Multiple hours of manual labor during the hottest part of the day by TEENAGERS? It doesn’t matter what country you are in, it’s just not going to happen.
I was given a group of about thirty teenage girls and told to watch them, keep them working, and not to let them take their shoes off FOR ANY REASON. Bah…okay. I defy you to be able to keep track of thirty girls out of hundreds when they are all wearing full abaya..
I was met with a constant barrage of whining “oh Teacher it’s too hot”, “oh I would give my arm for some water”, “oh this is Yemen, we don’t care”, or my favorite “oh why are you picking that garbage up? It’s not worth it, just pick up the really big pieces, or anything metal”. WHAT? There was no motivation or incentive to work at all.
Across the street were some men lounging around in orange jumpsuits in the shade of a massive dump truck, if you came anywhere even close to being productive they would bound up to you and whisk away the garbage bag before it was even half full, pitch it over the side of the truck and then adjourn back to the shade. I must have had half a dozen bags snatched from my grasp in just such a manner before overcome with the futility of it all, I gathered some of the girls around me and made them sing to me in Arabic.
Strewn all along the beach were piles of teenagers collapsed from the heat and the absurdity of the situation. Partially filled garbage bags lay wantonly cast aside. I literally picked up HUNDREDS of plastic, sanitary gloves. Because, we are here to pick up garbage, so once we’re done, why wouldn’t we just throw our gloves on the ground and walk away?
As I taught some of the boys how to make kites out of the remaining garbage bags and some dirty twine we found, I had to keep constant vigilance because the lady who organized the whole thing (abysmally) kept stalking up to me demanding that I make the kids work harder and keep picking up trash. Pick them up with what? And put the garbage where? We ran out of supplies in the first half hour. I just wanted to be like, listen lady, one- I don’t know you, and you are ruining my first weekend in Yemen, two- this is unbelievably futile, three- it is undeniably your fault this is a disaster, and four- get the damn buses back here so we can all go take a nap.
THE DAY WASN’T COMPLETELY WORTHLESS THOUGH!!
It turns out there were a couple of men roaming around taking photographs. I paid them no heed-this was during the first half hour of the clean-up process and I had yet to realize how worthless the whole endeavor was, I was busy toiling away. Awhile later Ben came bounding up, “I GOT MY PICTURE TAKEN WITH THE GOVENOR! THE GOVENOR! I’M GOING TO BE IN THE PAPER!"
“Damn you.” Is all I said as sweat was streaking down my face. Whatever Ben, ever heard of a work ethic?
Early Saturday(essentially Monday) morning I walked into the office to see a big group of people huddled around a newspaper. As I drew closer they all got super excited and animatedly gestured me over- and there it was FRONT AND CENTER of the morning paper, a pic of ‘ol Taryn toiling away on a dirty, Yemeni beach! BOOYAH BEN! WHO’S LAUGHING NOW?!!? Many of my students brought copies of the article to class, and I told anyone and everyone I met unabashedly, that I was now a Yemen celebrity. It was awesome. Ben’s reaction to hearing the news “WHAAAT? Some stupid, American comes and it trumps the GOVENOR making an appearance at a community clean-up project? Damn you”
BAHAHAHAHHA, I’m kind of a big deal. No seriously, I am.
HELL YES.
The whole experience was a lesson in futility. From the get go it was poorly organized. After more than an hour and a half we finally got all the students shuttled over to the beach. It was the single most disgusting beach I have ever seen. Wandering around Yemen it is clear that they have different sanitation standards and procedures than we do but this was just ridiculous. Trash as far as the eye could see. One of the reasons that Aden enjoys such a high status as a tourist destination(relative to Yemen) is because of the beautiful beaches. Maintaining a modicum of sanitation clearly needs to be a much higher priority(for this particular beach, certainly not all, or even most).
This is the scene I was met with when I arrived at the beach with the last of the straggling students- just utter chaos. There were hundreds of Yemeni teenagers milling about aimlessly without a hint of guidance or direction. First order of business? Get them into groups. Okay not too bad. But then we had to give them garbage bags and gloves and designate work areas- I don’t know who planned this but they did a TERRIBLE job. It worked out to about one small garbage bag per every three students and far too few gloves.
Our cleanup attempt could not possibly have been more ineffectual; it was well over a hundred degrees, no one thought to provide water, there was a paucity of garbage bags and sanitary gloves, and did I mention that these were teenagers? Multiple hours of manual labor during the hottest part of the day by TEENAGERS? It doesn’t matter what country you are in, it’s just not going to happen.
I was given a group of about thirty teenage girls and told to watch them, keep them working, and not to let them take their shoes off FOR ANY REASON. Bah…okay. I defy you to be able to keep track of thirty girls out of hundreds when they are all wearing full abaya..
I was met with a constant barrage of whining “oh Teacher it’s too hot”, “oh I would give my arm for some water”, “oh this is Yemen, we don’t care”, or my favorite “oh why are you picking that garbage up? It’s not worth it, just pick up the really big pieces, or anything metal”. WHAT? There was no motivation or incentive to work at all.
Across the street were some men lounging around in orange jumpsuits in the shade of a massive dump truck, if you came anywhere even close to being productive they would bound up to you and whisk away the garbage bag before it was even half full, pitch it over the side of the truck and then adjourn back to the shade. I must have had half a dozen bags snatched from my grasp in just such a manner before overcome with the futility of it all, I gathered some of the girls around me and made them sing to me in Arabic.
Strewn all along the beach were piles of teenagers collapsed from the heat and the absurdity of the situation. Partially filled garbage bags lay wantonly cast aside. I literally picked up HUNDREDS of plastic, sanitary gloves. Because, we are here to pick up garbage, so once we’re done, why wouldn’t we just throw our gloves on the ground and walk away?
As I taught some of the boys how to make kites out of the remaining garbage bags and some dirty twine we found, I had to keep constant vigilance because the lady who organized the whole thing (abysmally) kept stalking up to me demanding that I make the kids work harder and keep picking up trash. Pick them up with what? And put the garbage where? We ran out of supplies in the first half hour. I just wanted to be like, listen lady, one- I don’t know you, and you are ruining my first weekend in Yemen, two- this is unbelievably futile, three- it is undeniably your fault this is a disaster, and four- get the damn buses back here so we can all go take a nap.
THE DAY WASN’T COMPLETELY WORTHLESS THOUGH!!
It turns out there were a couple of men roaming around taking photographs. I paid them no heed-this was during the first half hour of the clean-up process and I had yet to realize how worthless the whole endeavor was, I was busy toiling away. Awhile later Ben came bounding up, “I GOT MY PICTURE TAKEN WITH THE GOVENOR! THE GOVENOR! I’M GOING TO BE IN THE PAPER!"
“Damn you.” Is all I said as sweat was streaking down my face. Whatever Ben, ever heard of a work ethic?
Early Saturday(essentially Monday) morning I walked into the office to see a big group of people huddled around a newspaper. As I drew closer they all got super excited and animatedly gestured me over- and there it was FRONT AND CENTER of the morning paper, a pic of ‘ol Taryn toiling away on a dirty, Yemeni beach! BOOYAH BEN! WHO’S LAUGHING NOW?!!? Many of my students brought copies of the article to class, and I told anyone and everyone I met unabashedly, that I was now a Yemen celebrity. It was awesome. Ben’s reaction to hearing the news “WHAAAT? Some stupid, American comes and it trumps the GOVENOR making an appearance at a community clean-up project? Damn you”
BAHAHAHAHHA, I’m kind of a big deal. No seriously, I am.
HELL YES.
A little bit closer- I look SOO good.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Lofty goals
Things I’m hoping to accomplish whilst in Yemen:
- Learn Arabic
- Eat a lifetime's worth of hummus and lamb
- Brandish a scimitar
- Ride a camel
- Ululate like a Bedouin
- Briefly see but not actively partake in a harem(joke!)
- Gallop away from an impeding sand storm
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