Blog to remain dormant

I am back in the States now, so for the forseeable future, this blog will not be updated. I may bring it back in the future for other trips. Blog updates relative to everyday life are available on my facebook page, and you're free to friend me. I will accept you if I know you. :)

Pictures of Dar Al-Hajar

Quite possibly the most photographed location in Yemen, here are pictures of Dar Al-Hajar: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=99640&id=509602661&l=452bfbb775‏.

I'm a big picture person. I'm not all about details, not all about how the little pieces fit together, even though I'm fully aware that it's the small pieces that allow the full picture to be beautiful or scarred. I think that perhaps this is both a great strength and my greatest weakness. At any rate, while I ponder philosophical truths and the projected outcomes of mass actions, behaviors and attitudes, I often find myself coming back to a few select authors and musical artists who have a knack for expressing the dychotomies and paradoxes of life in succinct and/or heavily insightful strings of vocabulary. From the side of the written word, apart from the words of the Bible that anchor everything, I'm often drawn to C.S. Lewis, St. Augustine and a few others. From the musical side, Derek Webb has a knack for catching you unprepared with his lyrics composed of riddles and tongue-in-cheek but authentic struggles. At any rate, if you want to be challenged a bit (and be prepared for the fact that you will find plenty to make you angry), I would suggest checking out what's available from one or more of these names. And to give you a taste, here are some lyrics that have been running through my head the last couple of days.

This Too Shall Be Made Right
People love you the most for the things you hate
And hate you for loving the things you can't keep straight
People judge you on a curve
And tell you you're getting what you deserve
And this too shall be made right

Children cannot learn when children cannot eat
Stack them like lumber and children cannot sleep
Children dream of wishing wells
Whose waters quench all the fires of hell
And this too shall be made right

The earth and the sky and the sea are all holding their breath
Wars and abuses have nature groaning with death
We say we're just trying to stay alive
But it looks so much more like a way to die
And this too shall be made right

Yes there's a time for peace and there is a time for war
There's a time to forgive and a time to settle the score
A time for babies to lose their lives
A time for hunger and genocide
And this too shall be made right

Oh I don't know the suffering of people outside my front door
And I join the oppressors of those I choose to ignore
I'm trading comfort for human life
And that's not just murder, it's suicide
And this too shall be made right

(Lyrics by Derek Webb; available on the album "The Ringing Bell" by Derek Webb)

Learn a little Arabic today

By means of providing you with a bit of Yemeni cultural immersion in whatever country you currently find yourself in, here are a few words or phrases that you hear all the time, every day fii al-Yemen. Feel free to incorporate these into your everyday language if you feel like having a little fun.

"Ma-Sha-Allah" (pronounced "mashallah) - most typically used as an exclamation over something beautiful or impressive. Also the closest thing to a "pick up line" used by men on the street, lol.

"Ham-Dil-Allah" (pronounced all together - hamdilallah) - literal meaning, Praise God. Used in greetings, passing by someone, when someone asks how you are doing, and then wherever else appropriate. "How is the food?" "Edible." "Hamdilallah!"

"In-Sha-Allah" (pronounced inshallah) - literal meaning, "If God Wills." Used as both a way of acknowledging that things will only happen in accordance to God's will and as a perfectly acceptable excuse to everything. "You said my clothes would be done today." "They shall be done tomorrow inshallah." Tomorrow, nafs-a-shay

"Nafs-a-shay" - the same thing.

"Mumtez!" - excellent/good.

"Laissa Jay-id" - not good.

"Yalla!" - let's go

"Al-An" - now

And perhaps the most overused word ever in human history:

"Mumkin" - literal translation, "It is possible." Used more in the American way of using the word "maybe," you hear this word multiple times in every conversation. It can also be used as a question, "Mumkin...?" = "Is it possible...?" Or as a filler when you are searching for the right word: "I want, mumkin, this, and mumkin that, and mumkin..." you get the idea. Very useful and totally overused. We wholeheartedly embrace all possible meanings.

So you want to buy aflam...

The plural version of the word "film" or "movie" is pronounced "aflam" in Arabic. And while Yemen is considered more of a closed country, don't be fooled. You can buy movies here no problem - Indian movies, Saudi movies, American movies, etc. We saw a poster a few days ago for what I think was an Arabic version of James Bond. The title was "Rashad 007." Classy. Of course, you're buying films the only way they're available in much of the world - high-quality bootleg copies (and yes, "high-quality" is a relative term). No copyright laws here, my friend. No quality control either.

BUT you get movies with Arabic subtitles, which can be a nice way to learn new Arabic words. So a friend and I decided we wanted to pick up a movie on our "friday night" (which is really on Wednesday). We stopped at a store in the old city and flipped through some books of film covers. The selection of American movies at this particular store wasn't extensive, but it was ecclectic. We settled on "I Am Legend" (ahh, Will Smith, I have missed your pretty face), Madagascar (it would be some fun vocabulary!), and another title that we still can't remember. (And maybe you can guess which direction this story is now headed...)

We pointed out our selections to the nice store owner who was so excited to have Americans in his store that he started showing off all the pictures on his computer from all over Yemen, apparently not believing our story that we already loved Yemen and didn't need to be convinced that it is one of the most beautiful places on earth. After about 5 or 7 minutes, he had finished burning our movies on a few DVDs and we paid the tab of four dollars. Off we went to enjoy our evening!

So, funny thing. Okay, back up. Sometimes, in Yemen, you just have to shake your head and mutter "la af-ham" - "I don't understand." That will be another blog for another time. We get back and start reading the titles on the DVDs. One says, in English, "I Am Legend." Actually, two DVDs say that. Okay. The other two have titles in Arabic. After staring at the one for a few minutes, we finally decided that it said "Disney." For some reason I didn't think Madagascar was Disney but I could be wrong. The other title no one could figure out. And since we ironically could not remember what other movie we purchased, we figured we would be pleasantly surprised. So that's the DVD we popped in first.

After watching about five minutes of an action scene that I quickly attributed to the latest "Fast and the Furious," an action scene that clearly was not at the beginning of the movie and which we initially mistook for an ad of some sort, we realized that we had nearly the whole film of the Fast and the Furious...with Arabic subtitles and I *think* maybe not the final cut of the movie? A little confused because we knew that wasn't what we asked for, we began to fast forward...and realized that this DVD was six and a half hours long. Then we realized that it didn't just contain the Fast and the Furious - it included four movies, none of which we ordered. But we now have the Fast and Furious (or most of it), Dragon Hunter, some strange Spanish film, and another movie that I don't remember, all with Arabic subtitles. Huh.

We tried Madagascar - aka "Disney." Laissa Madagascar. Instead, we got Aladdin and the King of Thieves, Aladdin and the Return of Jaffar, Looney Toones Strikes Back, and two other animated features - these, with no subtitles. We watched Alladin.

And then we checked out I Am Legand. Wouldn't you know, it was exactly what we ordered. With Arabic subtitles, so that was great. But the film is what, an hour and a half? And they split it between two DVDs.

So yeah, I don't really have a whole lot else to say on the matter. But if you're interested in a film with Arabic subtitles, let me know and I'll pick one up for you. Of course, who knows what you'll get - but it might be a fun chance to take.

This may not work and I don't guarantee that it will, but...

It's the desire of my heart
It's the anthem of my birth
I'll love you til you cross the line
Then watch my faith turn into works

So here's to hoping we evolve
And here's believing that we will
Blessed are those who seek for peace
But in control are those who kill

An eye for an eye will never satisfy
til there's nothing left to see
An I for an I will never satisfy
til there's nothing left to see

I was born to go to war
It comes so natural to me
Sure as a hammer finds a nail
Death is the only way to peace

An eye for an eye will never satisfy
til there's nothing left to see
An I for an I will never satisfy
til there's nothing left to see

I've got a killer instinct bringing out all of my best
I've got a poisoned conscience telling me to go with that
And this may not work and I don't guarantee that it will
But I've got no choice unless you tell me who Jesus would kill

An eye for an eye will never satisfy
til there's nothing left to see
An I for an I will never satisfy
til there's nothing left to see

(Derek Webb - Album: The Ringing Bell; Song: "I for an I")

State of the Art medical practices

For those of us accustomed to state-of-the-art medical practices and procedures (however frustrated we may get with the system), medical conditions in developing countries (from educational content to ministries of health and hospital facilities) can make us seriously stop and pause. I remember hearing stories several years ago from a doctor from Bosnia and Herzegovina. She talked about the deplorable state of Bosnia's medical facilities. Surgical instruments were 40 years old; some of the surgical tables had to be held up by people during surgery because otherwise they would collapse during the procedure. The war, as always happens, sent far more civilians to the grave than military personnel. Many died because they could not get proper medical treatment in time, either because they were hurt directly from the fighting or because the war prohibited medical supplies from reaching the hospital. Some people underwent surgery with no anesthetics because none was available.

A few weeks ago, on a trip to Hodeidah, several of us got to witness the practice of an ancient medical tradition here in Yemen (and perhaps outside the country too, not sure; it's a practice that is somewhat religious in nature as it was apparently put forth by the Prophet Mohammad as one of his approved medical treatments). The "procedure" took place at a small enclave in a very busy marketplace, so anyone could observe, but pictures were strictly prohibited. The person who is experiencing pain (a toothache to a ruptured spleen, it's all the same treatment) has these glass "bubbles" or containers filled with hot, boiling water suctioned to their back. The lack of oxygen causes blood to come out directly through the skin without breaking the skin. After several of these "bubbles" are filled with blood, they are removed and the treatment is done. Essentially the same as "bleeding" someone, but excessively more painful. The pain is absolutely excruciating. Perhaps this "works" in that you totally forget the pain of your health problem. Not really sure what the rationale is behind this practice, though I think it also includes some sort of supposed "cleansing" of evil toxins within the body. At any rate, it's not practiced in too many places in Yemen as I understand, but it was a common practice in this particular place and it made me so thankful for modern medicine.

I heard another amusing medical solution yesterday. A young medical student told me, "You know, some people in Yemen say that Qat will cure diabetes." When my response was an instantaneous and fully unveiled laugh, he threw up his hands and exclaimed, "Thank you! That is the response I've been looking for my whole life! Crazy, right? But the rationale is if people just chew qat for five or six hours straight, they won't eat, so that will help." Somehow.

Lest you worry too much about medical safety here, Sanaa does host a great German-Saudi hospital within its jurisdiction. :)

Random updates that will benefit you in no foreseeable way

So I have a confession to make: I really want purple hair. I know, I know, I know...I'm a hopeless case when it comes to hair color. But seriously, deep purple with a few black streaks or maybe just half black/half purple - it would be EXCELLENT. As we love to say here in Sanaa, "Mumtaz!" I would totally love it!

I tell you all of this because a couple of days ago, I bought a box of hair dye here in Yemen, knowing that the mixing of this supposedly red color with my current red color might produce something less than desireable. At the time I wasn't thinking purple at all, but when I put it on, about five minutes later I looked in the mirror and my hair was definitely purple. I got momentarily and prematurely super excited - the color ended up darkening to what is now something resembling black with a red tint. I like it, but I have to admit that I'm a little disappointed. I was so close! Sure, purple hair in Yemen is probably not a good idea, but where else am I ever going to do it? lol

If I close by telling you that I bought this amazing fifty cent ring from an underground tunnel today - a ring that spins and consequently captivates my attention every time I look at it - will you think I've gone completely mad?

Al-Mahwit

This past weekend we visited Mahwit‎. Al-Mahwit is one of the more fertile regions in Yemen. From its mountains the waters of several large wadis run into the coastal plain. Coffee beans, tobacco and various fruits grow here. The city itself is one of the most beautiful cities in Yemen in terms of geographical location and landscape - it is located 2100 meters above sea level. Mahwit was the center for the collection of coffee in preparation for transport to export ports from the late 15th to mid 18th centuries. It was also an important administrative center during the first Ottoman rule of Yemen (1538-1635 AD) The hike was nice, just a few hours long and much of it on an actual trail. Check out pictures of the scenery and an ad hoc game of football with some Yemeni kids at the side of the mountain - http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=94189&id=509602661&l=c5a7e43be0.

Forget Dress Shopping. Go shopping for Jeans.

So I blogged earlier about the joys of dress shopping in Sanaa. The culture that asks its women to completely cover themselves when they go out in public has dresses here that i'm not sure even the most scandalous women in America would ever wear in the privacy of their own homes. Hilarious.

But perhaps not as hilarious as the array of jeans that are available. There is pretty much one style: Tight, stretchy, and covered with "flair," aka stitching and glitter and sequence. The jeans are often various bright colors. But the best part is that this is the lone style available for women AND men. If you would like to have a really good laugh, bring the men in your life to Yemen for a little jeans shopping. This is especially effective if the guys are big, because Yemeni guys are almost all very skinny and overall, by American standards, a little short. And I hear a rumor that a certain store down the street has some amazing man-jeans that are purple with white stitching and zippers up the sides.

I shall now desist from speaking.

Racism and Diversity

At the men's wedding celebration in Ibb last weekend, I had a sobering conversation with one of the men at the party. I'm not entirely sure where this topic came from as the guy was chewing a lot of qat and the resulting increasing speed at which he was talking caused me to miss quite a bit of what he said. But I quickly came back around when, from what seemed like out of nowhere, he said the following, and I quote: "The color of a man's face tells you the color of his heart." This was his way of explaining why people of a certain race simply couldn't be trusted. (This may seem a bit off to you given that Yemenis have darker skin themselves, but they don't consider themselves brown. They have a different word for the color of their skin, one that doesn't really translate into English but means essentially a darker shade of white.)

My face must've given me away before my vocal response did because the man stopped toward the end of his sentence and didn't finish. Who knows if it was the fact that a woman was rebuking a man or simple surprise at having this point of view contradicted, but he was increasingly surprised when I vehemently shook my head and insisted that was not the case. He displayed a puzzled expression and then backed up a little and tried this line out: "Sometimes. Maybe sometimes it does." I stubbornly shook my head. "Nope. The color of your skin NEVER determines the color of your heart or what you do." He continued to stare back at me, looking increasingly puzzled.

Racism is a definite problem here, primarily toward those of Asian and especially African descent. This was the most direct conversation I've had about it, but I've listened to or overhead similar ideas from a number of different people. This belief is also reflected in the unofficial caste system of Yemen that is too detailed for me to eleborate upon here in this note. I draw a very, very, VERY small amount of comfort from the fact that this seems to be based on ignorance, not maliciousness. Islam dictates caring for the poor, and Yemenis certainly do that, although it mostly stops at giving money versus implementing any type of societal or programmatic changes that could bring the poor up out of poverty. And the bottom of the economic chain is primarily made up of other races. There simply isn't diversity here, so such ideas are allowed to flourish because no one questions them. Whenever I've voiced dissent to the popular opinions about other races, the response is the same: confusion. Not anger, just confusion.

It makes me thankful for the effort that many people in the U.S. and other areas of the world put into pursuing diversity. When you surround yourself with it, not just racial diversity but diversity in socio-economic status, religion, culture, etc., you are no longer permitted to just make assumptions for which there is no foundation. You are forced to confront your prejudices and incorrect or harmful ideas that have been passed on to you by your culture or your own way of thinking and instead you are forced to learn to love. This doesn't mean you agree with everything or everyone, but you learn quickly the truth in Plato's exhortation, "You are young, my son, and as the years go by, time will change and even reverse some of your present opinions. Refrain therefore a while from setting yourself up as judge of the highest matters." Not only that, but without diversity you just plain miss out on the beauty of so much of the world.

A football for 300 Riyals

Yesterday as I wandered down the alley close to where I live I briefly jumped into an intense football (aka soccer) skirmish with the boys who were outside playing. A number of them seem to be enamored with the strange western custom of shaking hands so in between hard kicks they would run up and shake my hand and offer me the customary Arabic blessing. After a couple of minutes, the eldest boy in the group, probably about 10 or 11, yelled something and began to dodge in between the swinging legs, attempting to stop the ball. When he was finally successful, he hurried over to me and, apparently the unofficial spokesman for the small band of boys, showed me two large, once-patched-and-now-again-unmended holes that were the cause behind the ball being so flat. In hurried Arabic he explained to me (I think) that they had been playing with the ball for a long time and tried to fix it but it just had too many holes in it. With a number of oversized hand gestures he motioned down the street and said something else that I wasn't able to understand. At first I thought he wanted me to walk somewhere else to play with them (probably because the other boys kept yelling "football! football!") but then I noticed two men standing at the end of the alley. They were giving me a most peculiar look that I had no idea how to interpret. I didn't know if the look came from the fact that they were watching me play ball with the kids or from our conversation that I probably obviously wasn't understanding in its entirety or from something else. But we passed by them and they simply turned and studied me and the entourage of about seven little boys scampering down the street. After another minute of conversation I realized that the eldest boy was asking me if I would buy them another ball and was leading me to a little store where we might find one. I nodded and momentarily hoped the five dollars I had in my wallet would be enough. I needn't have worried. The shopkeeper looked a little surprised but smiled gratefully at the strange woman asking to buy something from his very ecclectic collection of items that he had somehow fashioned into a store. He kicked a couple balls around on the floor, found the one that was pumped up the best and held it up for our inspection. The cost was a whopping 300 riyals, equivalent to a dollar and fifty cents. The boys, not assuming anything, stood there patiently to see what my response would be. I nodded and pulled a bill out of my wallet. A minute later the ball was proudly in the one boy's hands while the others tried to bat it out and start a little skirmish on the ever-too-narrow sidewalk that is hardly wide enough for a person to walk down. I indicated that I needed to go to another store and the boys nodded and headed back to the alley.

When I arrived back a few minutes later, the ball was in flying motion a good ways down the back street and the boys all stopped to wave and yell "shukran sadiqatii!" (thank you, my friend). But as I knocked on the door for the guard to let me in, another boy in the group scampered back. With a slight tilt of his head he pronounced in adorable, Arabic-clipped English, "thank you." I stuck my hand out to shake his and told him he was welcome, no problem. Then in what has got to be the most adorable moment I have encountered since arriving in Yemen, he smiled a slight and shy smile, laid his right hand over his heart and recited what was clearly a well-practiced line: "I love you." With that, he turned, waved, and ran off to play ball.

As adorable as this story is and as much as I will always love the memory (we all know I fall in love with kids a bit too easily - oh wait, that's not possible :), a ball for a group of boys won't change their lives. It may change their perception of an American, or it might make their life better for an evening or provide them a source of entertainment for another month or two, but really, it's nothing. Not even a drop in the bucket in the intense need that sweeps this country. I love Yemen, but I am not immune to its faults. Kids here are in desperate need of opportunities. On an evening like this, other emotions drift away and I am simply left broken-hearted. Heart-broken for the kids I see wandering the streets and mountain passes - not because I want to take them out of this place, but because I want to make it better. I want them to have the opportunities I know they have the skill and ability to take full advantage of if only given the opportunity.

Tales of the Taxi Cabs

The term "safety" is a funny thing. Mostly because it's so relative.

The variety of taxi drivers we meet here in Sanaa is as diverse as the cars they drive - or, more specifically, the cars you hope will make it long enough to get you to your destination. Some of the more amusing taxi rides I've experienced are as follows:

Driver number one: Doesn't talk much, but after about five minutes in the cab pulls out the cassette tape (everyone here only uses old school cassette tapes) and pops it in. Next thing you know, who else but Marshall Mathers is rockin' a little "Slim Shady." The cab driver glances back in his mirror at his two western passengers, nods a little and says, "Tamaam?" (Ok?) We both laugh and nod. Then he cranks the music up so ridiculously loud that we drew far more stares from the cars crowded next to us than normal. But what can you do.

Driver number two: Four of us pile in a cab, only to look up to see a perfect bullet hole in the front windshield, and from the hole the glass splinters in every possible direction. (Cracked windshields are the name of the game around here. Most are cracked. It was just the cause of the cracks that was noticeably different this time.) One of the guys in our entourage pointed to the hole and asked the obvious question. The driver nodded but then proudly announced that he himself had not been hit! We looked around the back for evidence of a backseat passenger casualty but fortunately it was dark enough that we couldn't see anything.

Driver number three: Wasn't actually a taxi. Probably not the smartest thing ever but this guy who was just idling by the side of the road offered to give us a ride to where we needed to go. Once we got in the cab, he confirmed what we sort of suspected - he wasn't actually a taxi driver. But he had kicked out his friend who was sitting in car chewing gat with him, so for some strange reason we felt compelled to agree to the ride. Along the way he gave us gat, bought us flowers, and then refused to let us pay him when we arrived at our destination. I'm torn between wondering how sketchy that is and being thankful for a free ride.

Which leads me to my musing about this idea of "security" or "safety" that we all throw flippantly around. Clearly the fact that I travel to certain places in the world showcases the obvious reality that I'm probably not as concerned about "safety" as some people might be. But more pointedly, I think that safety comes in very different forms. In big cities in the U.S., like a New York or Boston or Detroit, there are plenty of safety concerns. Pickpockets, someone breaking into your car and stealing it, someone grabbing a bag of purchased goods or your purse when you sit down, needing to always keep a close eye on your kids to make sure nothing happens to them, etc. You certainly wouldn't ever catch a ride from an unmarked "taxi" in these cities. And sure there are safety concerns here in Sanaa. They're simply of a different nature. But you can let your kids play on the streets because everyone looks out for the kids, and you can strike up random conversations with strangers and even when it seems like it should be shady by American standards, it seems to turn out okay. That's not to say you shouldn't always be careful and avoid being stupid (that goes without saying), but keep these cultural differences in mind the next time you see a State Dept travel warning. They're not all they're cracked up to be.

Yemeni weddings

Here in Yemen, the men and women hold their celebrations for a wedding seperately. Best I've been able to tell, there's not much variation in the syle of wedding celebrations. What's different from one wedding to the next is simply how many people are invited and how many days the celebration lasts. The wealthier you are, the more people and the more days are involved. Some people have a wedding celebration only for a day. Others, I've been told, can last up to seven.

Two days ago, a few of us spent a few hours at a women's wedding celebration for one of the women who works at the school here in Sanaa. The women's celebration involves all the women sitting on the low, close-to-the-ground "couch" type seating that is common in gathering rooms all over Yemen, then broadcasting the music that is live at the men's celebration. Sometimes the women get up and dance, sometimes they sit and chew qat or just talk. When the bride shows up, there is lots of clapping and shouting and dancing, and she sits on a very elaborate bed at one end of the room while the other women dance around her. The bride herself is done up in a white dress with far so much sparkle (as is the Yemeni tradition), an elaborate amount of henna, and a lot of make up that includes essentially white foundation that, with all due respect, makes the poor woman look a little fake. I've heard that this is also quite common - when the women here want to look very done up and beautiful, they opt for white foundation because they think to look white makes them more beautiful. Rather sad in my opinion because they are beautiful just as they are and the white foundation doesn't help in the slightest, but not like my opinion is going to change years of tradition, right?

The men, on the other hand, gather outside with drummers and someone playing a flute or similar wind instrument, pull out their jambias and engage in a large amount of very energetic dancing. It's quite enjoyable to watch. It's also common for more than one wedding to be celebrated at a time, as was the case in the wedding celebration we visited in Ibb yesterday. Weddings are very expensive in Yemen, so celebrating them together helps cut down on the cost. In Sanaa and the close surrounding areas, the man who is getting married pays for all the costs of the wedding, including giving a large sum of money to his wife for jewelry and other things. In some regions more north apparently the tradition is that the women's family first gives a large sum of money to the man, then the man pays for the wedding. I'm not sure if this practice is limited to certain tribes or if it's more geographical in nature. At any rate, the Sanaa practice (according to one of my profs) is one of the reasons many men here have only one wife. They can't afford more than one wedding. :)

Women are normally never allowed at the men's celebrations, but being white and a foreigner does allow you some advantages in situations like this. The men were quite happy to have our delegation that included four Western women. Heaven only knows how many videos of us are now available on some Arabic version of YouTube as I'm pretty sure that every single one of the approx 60-80 men there pulled out his phone and was videotaping us for minutes and minutes on end. Talk about the far-reaching effects of globalization. We were as strange and as worthy of pictures to them as vice versa. I also enjoyed the men's celebration a little more because the men were quite eager to talk about culture and marriage and Yemeni history and all sorts of things. The women are much more reserved around foreigners. Even with the insane amount of qat you're expected to chew and the one man who took far too much of a liking to me and about whom one of my fellow students amusingly commented "I think you're about to become someone's second wife!", it was enjoyable. After requests for my number, numerous invitations to visit his village and home and work, and an offer to visit me in Sanaa, I became more thankful for the culturally accepted excuse of "Inshallah." But I do hope you all have the opportunity to witness Yemeni style dancing for men and women. Both are different but take an impressive amount of skill, and from a very young age boys and girls learn these dances. While the men's dances are fun and elaborate, the women's dances I'm sure would make any American man instantly fall head over heels for a Yemeni woman. :) And this is probably why men and cameras are banned from all of the women's celebrations.

Pictures from a Men's Wedding Celebration in Ibb

One of the guys who works here invited us to visit the men's part of the wedding celebration that was happening in a village near Ibb. You can view some pics from the celebration at http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=92379&id=509602661&l=3a0cc51c94

MJ's funeral

In yet another great example of confusion over cultural differences, one of my professors reported to us today that he watched Michael Jackson's funeral yesterday. (Does anyone know where I can see the full coverage online? I need to go back and see it now.) And after reporting to us a few of things he had watched and explaining that he didn't really understand any of it or why folks who were there said anything that they did, he asked about Michael Jackson's wife. He kept asking about the way she talked at the funeral. We were all a bit confused until he finally switched to English and falteringly explained, "Queen Latifah. This is his wife?" Laughing, we quickly exclaimed that she wasn't. With a confused look, our prof continued, "But he is King of Bob (pop). So his wife, she is called queen?" After explaining that there was no relation and quickly trying but then abandoning an attempt to explain Michael Jackson's family situation, he nodded. "Ahh. I wonder, because, she so happy. And I think, maybe his wife, she would be not laughing?"

Here in Yemen, funerals happen within 24 hours of the death of a person because they don't do any embalming. Instead they wrap the body up, put it on a stretcher type contraption and all the men gather together to carry the body above their heads and march down the street. There is also some sort of spiritual "credit" (for lack of a better word) that you supposedly get when you help to carry the body in this procession, so the men often rush to at least touch the stretcher, whether or not they knew the person. And no women join this procession, even if it's a woman who died. We saw a funeral procession in the streets of Sanaa last weekend. Interesting sight.

I'll just say it. It's good that I'm an American.

Cultural differences. Although people are people and at the heart we are ever so similar across countries and cultures and races and languages, cultural differences still run deep and can be quite amusing at times. I've found the cultural differences to be a little more stark than normal when I'm conversing with my professors, primarily for two reasons. One, for those of you who didn't already know, I'm a little independent - strike number one. And two, because I don't exemplify a typical American, people get even more confused.

When you're learning a language, you start out talking about your own life story, so you instantly see a lot of cultural differences and often have an amusing time trying to explain them. In a culture where it's not at all unusual for a girl to be given in marriage between the ages of 13 and 16, and where the average lifespan is fifty some years, and where people live a country that celebrates its unification with "unification or else," imagine trying to explain being 25, not married, living independent of your family from 16, and identifying yourself as politically independent. When we talk about different lifestyles and hobbies and work responsibilities, one of my professors thoroughly enjoys it. The other just shakes his head at me sometimes, making comments like "this is YOUR culture" or giving me a look that says he clearly doesn't understand why anyone would want such a life.

But most recently, my professor who enjoys discussing the differences in culture apparently decided that he needed some personal entertainment and assigned the following "language exercise" - write a personal profile advertising yourself and explaining what you want in a husband or wife. (I'll give it to him, he's got a great sense of humor.) And if you're stuck with a "language exercise" as ridiculous as that, you have to live it up, right? So I listed out my set of criteria...an independent thinker, someone who loves a good debate, who isn't afraid to question authority, yada yada yada. After spending a good several minutes laughing so hard he was almost crying, my professor commented, "This is good." And I decided it is a very good thing that I am an American, because no good Arab man here would ever want me. Hahahaha.....

I love Yemen.

Losing your identity

Excuse me while I stray from my usual "Yemeni update" and wax philosophical for a moment.

I used to be quite the blogger way back in the day. That's probably not the only thing I used to do (aka "be") that I've turned away from in recent years. Every now and again someone will recall something from an old blog and comment on how I should do more writing, or make a comment on how I should join another band. But inevitably, faced with a blank screen or a loved but recently mildly scorned instrument, I find myself in the same position yet again: nothing original to say, nothing original to play.

Some people travel through life always learning new things, braving new frontiers, adding words to the lists they use to identify themselves. They're professionals, eccentrics, survivors, conquerors. Sometimes the list is more specific, drilling down to abilities or roles - they're communicators, writers, managers, electricians, professors, mothers, fathers, husbands, wives. I don't suppose that there is anything wrong with these descriptors in and of themselves. But from my life experience I can attest to the fact that sometimes these identities get in the way.

This is not to say that I'm any different. I had my own list too, once upon a time. Musician, writer, political junkie, professional, whatever... I had my identity. And then, along the way, by some great act of mercy, I lost it.

Over the past several years, God has been doing what I can only describe as a systematic stripping away of my identity. The process has left me a little battered at times (maybe more than just "at times"). But it's also resulting in giving me something I never would have known enough to ask for.

Generally speaking, we gain our worth by what we do. It's our ability, or maybe our personality, that sets us apart as someone worthwhile. We gain acceptance and respect by continuing to be what we've identified ourselves to be. To strip that away is to remove from ourselves the very core of our being. It is to rid ourselves of what makes us feel like we have any worth. It is to say, here I am just as I am. I can't be anything else. And in the process of admitting that we are less than perfect, it rids us of the need to be perfect - or, more precisely, the necessity of being perfect that most of us all too readily impose upon ourselves. We no longer have to be someone we're not. And in a strange way, the ability to be a fallen and broken human who is free from a self-made identity results in a freedom that no other identity could possibility afford. (Perhaps this is why God refers to himself as the great I Am.)

I'm not entirely sure where to go with this from here. There is no point I'm trying to make other than the fact that losing your identity is what gives you an identity that can't be stripped away. You are who you are in the sight of God, and you get to be that person only when you let go of the other identities that make you think you can credit yourself for who you are - the things that will fail you at some point and leave you lost when your own abilities fail. But the beauty of the matter is that God loves you beyond measure and he loves the person he created you to be. You don't have to "be" anything else.

I suspect that some of you will shake your heads in confusion or roll your eyes at the content of this note and that's fine. Do with it as you will. But I've shared these thoughts with a few other people over the past several months and I've been surprised at how many times people have come back to me to tell me it's made a big impression on them. So I'm throwing it out there, as personal and philosophical and as full of jagged edges as it is. If you're as jaded or as rough around the edges as I am, perhaps it will make sense to you.

Hotel "Amenities" - it's all relative

I've been trying to work out the details for a quick two or three day trip to Ethiopia in August to meet my two Compassion kids who live there. Now that I have potential dates, I decided to jump online to check out some hotels. After finally locating a decent website for hotels in Addis Ababa, I began reading the descriptions for the nicer hotels - the ones that actually have websites. With the exception of the two expensive western hotels in the city (the Sheraton and the Hilton), the hotels all definitely have "flair." For your reading pleasure, here are some of the advertised amenities for hotels in the area.

"Private shower"
"Shower with HOT water!" (I like)
"Carpet from one side of room all the way to the other!"
"Bed is furnished"
"Internet available. Internet not always available"
"Hotel restaurant serves lunch three days a week!"
"16" tv with cable"

You get the idea. Personally I want to book a room at the hotel with the carpet that goes from one side of the room all the way to the other. Only because that line amused me enough to inspire me to write this note. :)

Pictures from the President's Mosque

We visited the President's Mosque in Sanaa this week. Pictures are available at http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=90773&id=509602661&l=624af106c7.

Pictures from a road trip

Several of us took a road trip last weekend and I have posted pictures from the experience online. A full blog on the weekend is coming but for now enjoy the pics! http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=90222&id=509602661&l=15d7d1d0ac

Qat, restaurants, and everyday traffic

Every city has its quirks, the things that people who grew up there will never notice but outsiders pay attention to for a small period of time before also acclimating to the culture. In some cases it is accurate to say that every country has its quirks, but I think that it makes more sense to look at cities or regions since countries can vary so vastly across their landscapes.

One of the most common sites in Sanaa and around Yemen, especially in the afternoon and evening, is the site of men with bulging cheeks. They chew qat like fiends, every single man. Women do too, but in the privacy of their homes and not in public usually. Qat is a green leafy plant that is grown around the country. When you pick it, you chew the soft leaves, which are usually the smaller ones near the top of the branch. You just keep adding qat to the wad held in the side of your mouth between your teeth and your cheek. If you pick the leaf off and stick it in your mouth, you can do this without making too much of a mess. A lot of guys just pull the leaves off with their teeth and this results in not only a huge bulge in their cheek but green bits stuck in their teeth. Lovely, right? Like so many things, it's amazing what you can get used to. I noticed today that I have become used to the strange combination scent of sweat and qat. You'll have to come to Yemen to get the effect. :)

Restaurants around Sanaa don't have menus, with the exception of some of the nicer, more expensive restaurants and probably the KFC-Pizza Hut combo on the other side of town. The food selection isn't particularly extensive though, so once you go to a restaurant once you learn what they do or don't have or are willing to make. Every restaurant serves chips (french fries) - one of the world's universal foods, to be sure. Here in Sanaa, it is a very popular thing to serve chips with hot sauce, which is delicious. A few places even mix up vinegar and salt and hot sauce and occasionally another spice or two and add it to the chips. I would recommend that you try this, it's good. Fuul is another popular dish, made out of some sort of bean mixture I think, sometimes with bits of potatoes and onions. I guess the best summary would be to say that you eat a lot of "dip" type foods with bread. You get a big dish or a couple of them, put them in the middle of the table, and all eat out of it together. Silverware can be had at any restaurant upon request, at least all the restaurants I've been to in Sanaa. (Not guaranteed to be washed but they do at least rinse them!) Another funny thing I've noticed is that restaurants almost never have their own beverages. Sometimes they might have tap water (which we avoid), or if they're a juice store (this is common) they will have juice. Most restaurants will also brew you a cup of tea upon request, usually "Yementon" tea (Lipton turned Yemenian) with loads of sugar and mint. But otherwise, if you want a bottle of water or a coke or something similar, you ask the owner for it. He will then send another worker or more often a young child down the street to one of the many little shops that sell beverages. They come back with the drink and so far as I've experienced just charge you exactly what they paid for the beverage, no markup. I think this is because most Yemenis don't order drinks with their dinner. I'm not sure that this is the case everywhere, it just seems to be a trend in the places I've frequented - the cheap but delicious places.

At first when we arrived, I was surprised that a country with former British influence would have traffic that drove on the "right" side of the road - literally, the right side. But while the steering wheels of the cars are on the left side similar to the States, it is a bit of a misnomer to say that traffic drives on the right side of the road. Traffic just drives. Sometimes, especially in heavy-traffic areas of Sanaa, the cars more or less stay on the right side. But generally speaking you just drive wherever there is space to drive. Careening through the mountains on the roads that run a couple of feet from the sides of the cliffs, cars pay no attention whatsoever to where they are on the road. You just use the road. Traffic lights are of course unusual - roundabouts are much more common. On the few occasions where I've seen traffic lights, no one follows them. There aren't really any traffic laws here either. Well, I think that technically there are a couple, but the easiest way to sum them up would probably be to say that 1) if you're a foreigner, it's your fault; 2) if you're a local, who knows. Go pay to fix your car. The only time there are traffic laws is when a security or police officer is present. At that time, some measure of traffic "norms" seem to come into existence, at least until the officer leaves.

If you were to come to Yemen, another thing you might notice is that almost all the cars are white. Passing car dealerships (I've only seen a few of these and the highest number of cars held by any of them would not top 20), the only option is white. Most of the cars also have a thick yellow or blue stripe running horizontally down the middle of the car. I'm not sure where in the process between buying and driving the vehicle these stripes get added, but they're quite common. In Sanaa, it would not be a complete shock to see a colored car - there are a number of very old Toyota models that are blue or red, and then the wealthier parts of the city boast nice new cars, sometimes SUVs, in various muted colors. But brightly colored cars? Haven't seen one yet. And a colored car outside the city is quite unusual. However, the cabs here have a funny pattern. They are white, but then random parts of their bumpers or possibly their hood will be painted yellow. It's an odd combo, but they're all like that.

The cats

Animals are instant giveaways on how developing or poor a country really is. One of the first things I noticed in the Dominican Republic was how crazy thin the dogs were. They were everywhere (not really pets but they weren't "wild game" either) and they were clearly starving. When even the animals are starving, the creatures that eat the trash of the trash and often a number of items that aren't meant for any type of consumption, you know poverty runs deeper than you're likely to see or understand from a cursory glance.

The same can be said for Sanaa and throughout Yemen. When we first arrived in Sanaa, I was struck by two things: First, there are cats EVERYWHERE. Literally. I'm used to seeing dogs in other countries, but here, it's cats. The second thing I noticed is that there wasn't a well-nourished one in the bunch. As a matter of fact, the few that looked mildly healthy, I've been told, are probably pregnant - thus the "meat on their bones" in a very literal sense. They cry constantly for food whenever it's around outside, they'll hiss and snip and fight each other for a scrap of meat in particular, and sometimes they sound so terrible that they don't sound like cats at all. More like sick children trying to meow like cats.

Sadly, the cats in Sanaa looked almost healthy to me when I got back in town yesterday. In a few cities we travelled to on the Red Sea, the cats looked like some creatures out of a Disney film...many hairless, some with eyes of different sizes or dialated to different sizes, and they really didn't look like cats at all. Beyond scrawny, they were more like deformed creatures with the head of a cat.

Yemen is the poorest country in the generally accepted definition of the Middle East region. Big cities can be deceiving sometimes. Sanaa certainly has its share of poverty that you could see instantly, but little things like the size of the animals or the color of the hair of a child give you insight into the reality of the homes or what life is like off the main drag. But I think that in many ways Sanaa has it much better than the rest of the country.

Pictures from Manakha

‎Manakha is located in the Harraz mountains, about 2200 meters above sea level. Manakha is famous for its enormous ravines and fog-topped mountains, its beautiful terraced hillsides, and its male dancers, said to be the best in Yemen. View pictures online at http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=88437&id=509602661&l=d48caf606f. Haven't had a chance to post captions yet but I will try and do that tomorrow if I have time.

A little Yemeni politiking

We visited the Yemeni parliament today. A few of the individuals we met with included the President of the Parliament, the General Manager of the Media, and the lone female Parliamentarian among her 300 male colleagues. I can't say as the visit was in any way surprising. The President of the Parliament was very welcoming, thanking us for being the "true ambassadors" for Yemen to the world (because, he said, most of the people the rest of the world considers ambassadors won't stay here, so you're really it.). We had the opportunity to ask "any question you want." In answer to the ultra-basic question, "what are some of the problems in Yemen that the Parliament is trying to fix," the answer amidst laughter was simply: "What problems? We have no problems." And after a few moments we realized that was the extent of the answer that was going to come. One student posed a more specific question: "We know that the water shortage in Yemen is a huge problem. What is the Parliament doing to address this problem?" And the answer was equally concise: "We cannot control the rainfall." At which point one of the professors got a little riled up and began expanding in Arabic about sustainability, infrastructure to hold more water, etc. The answer was not elaborated upon. And in regards to future increases in female representation in Parliament, it is as expected: there very well might be more, and there is a move from the President to expand female representation to 15% of Parliament, but it will be done where the parties consider it in their best interest. Of course you must have the party's endorsement to run for office.

We did get one amusing answer to an equally amusing question. One of our guys asked, "Can members of Parliament chew (qat) during session?" At which the Manager of the Media laughed and said, "Yes, of course, only in the afternoon sessions." This question was followed up with, "Do you see the qat culture here as a problem?" and he answered, "Yes. It is a big problem." But then in far more words essentially said what can be done about it. Another question about the large amount of water that is used for growing qat when it is desperately needed elsewhere was posed, and he said there has been some movement to limit the amount of water that can be used for such purposes. That might be one legislative initiative worth following. Since all legislation is introduced by the President and then voted on by the Parliament (with the ruling party voting as a block in agreement with any of the President's proposals), it will only move if the President so desires.

Our conversation with the one female member of Parliament was of just as much originality. Still, she was very gracious and hospitable and most eager to share about the role of politics and Parliament in Yemeni life. We also met the leader of the opposition party, an amusing old man who died his hair red (which doesn't work well for Yemenis I must say) but who of course would never miss an opportunity to talk to the foreigners.

All in all an amusing experience. I would recommend it.

Our Resident Frenchman

The students at the language school here hail from a number of different countries. Probably a good half of us are Americans, but the others come from Great Britain, France, Germany, Greece, Mexico, etc. Some of the most amusing conversations I've ever heard come about when there's a table or bus full of us from the US, England, France and Germany. Somehow in a mix of Arabic, English, French and German, we manage to have great dialogues about the West's involvement in the current problems in the Middle East. No matter what twists and turns the conversations take, they always end the same way: We blame the Belgians. For everything.

We have one lone resident Frenchman in the group. Normally I'm not one for stereotypes, but this guy, Christoff, fits the American stereotype of a Frenchman in every possible way. One of the first days I was here, he had written down the name of the city where he's from and was passing it around, asking people to try and pronounce it. After four or five people gave it a whirl, he shook his head, curled his upper lip and announced in his thick French accent, "You say it like a bas-turd." Whenever he hears anyone complain about anything, he curls under his bottom lip, wrinkles his nose and starts to sniff, then shakes his head before mumbling something along the lines of "Poor ba-by." He mocks others almost constantly, though I have noticed that if you just don't respond he appears mildly annoyed or confused and lets it go. I guess in this way he reminds me more of the resident 10-year-old bully on the playground than a 34-year-old Frenchman. And I suppose he doesn't always enjoy being surrounded by so many Americans all the time, lol. But it's this very mix of cultures and attitudes and languages
and outlooks that makes the experience so rich.

Blood Tests in Yemen

When you visit Yemen, if as an American citizen you are planning to stay for more than 7 weeks, you are required to take an HIV blood test administered by the Department of Interior Health. (This is contrasted with EU citizens, who only need to take a blood test if they are going to be in the country for 3 months or longer. One of the guys here said it's because Americans can strike up relationships faster than Europeans. An amusing rationalization for the difference...) The follow up is that, if you test positive, your trip to Yemen is done. Which I find mildly amusing that it's only a problem if you stay that long...why not test for it when you enter the country the same way they test for swine flu?...but I digress.

A bunch of us went to the Dept of Health this morning. We went through the routine of handing over our passports and 6,000 Yemeni Riyals (the equivalent of $30 USD, a small fortune compared to the prices of everything else over here), then got to label our own vials for the blood samples. After that the men and women were seperated by a partition so that only a woman would touch the women and vice versa.

I should preface this story by stating what many of you already know. I have the world's weakest stomach when it comes to anything involving blood and medication, and I am somewhat notorious for getting hurt in the most stupid ways possible. However, despite the fact that I have a history of bad reactions to any medical "procedure" involving blood withdrawel, I had to have a bunch of shots and tests before going to West Africa at the end of last year and was fine for all of them, so I thought maybe I had adjusted and medical work wouldn't bother me anymore. And to an extent, I was right. The actual blood withdrawel was no problem at all. No problem until about two minutes later when the whole world starting spinning and I apparently passed out on the hospital floor face first. The left side of my face looks like a little kid who fell off of her bike, with scratches and cuts all over. And when I finally become coherent enough to start listening to the conversations behind the curtain, I heard the nurse tell the little girls something along the lines of "just be stronger than the Americans and you'll be okay." I feel like I should be mildly embarassed about all of this, but to be honest it keeps striking me as funny and it makes me chuckle every time I think of it, even as I sit here on my bed with my laptop in hand and a wicked headache. So to my fellow Americans, I am sorry I gave the impression that we are weak. But look at it this way - the bar is low. You can easily surpass their expectations! :)

In other news, a few of the students here went to a get together at the embassy last night. In the return trips, somehow Ben, one of the guys in the group, got left behind. After wandering the streets . looking for a taxi, some man he had never met before came up and started talking to him. Ben had no idea what he was saying but after about five minutes the man grabbed him by the arm, pulled him over and motioned for him to get in the bed of the truck, then took off. Ben said he was quite certain he was going to end up as the next kidnapped tourist or in jail (taxi drivers here - even though this guy wasn't a taxi driver - are known for just driving their passengers to jail instead of to their requested destination if they had some reason to believe the passenger has broken the law), but amazingly Ben ended up back at his residence. God is good, eh?

Dress Shopping in Sanaa

Tonight a few of us went dress shopping in downtown Sanaa. All the women here at the school have been invited to a women-only Yemeni celebration tomorrow and we were told we needed to dress for the occasion. After talking to women at the school, we discovered a few relatively surprising things. First of all, when the women here get "dressed up" for celebrations, they dress in western style clothing (only for other women to see, of course). Secondly, the "western style clothing" they wear is....ummm, well.....let's see. Let's start by saying the dresses are almost all very bright colors and mostly covered in some manner of sparkle - sequence, glitter, etc. Then imagine stores (mostly little shops) overflowing with dresses that are mostly over-the-top tacky. They range from the most showy prom style dresses to oversized can-can doll/ballet recital poofines (is that a word?) to what might possibly be the most slutty languerie-style "dresses" I have ever seen. Upon further conversation, we discovered that yes indeed, the more sparkling and over the top and the more skin you show at these things, the better. (Kinda funny for a culture where the women go out in public with only their eyes showing, wouldn't you say?) So we did it. We went into these dress shops - all staffed only by men of course - and bought dresses. I bought a little black sequenced dress with a gigantic gold flower sequence pattern, and gold stelletto heels with straps that wrap halfway up my legs. The entire outfit cost less than twenty bucks. Which is good cuz I would never wear in the states! lol I am ready to party Yemeni style. *shakes head* I am not girly enough for this. I am falling in love with this country but seriously someone let me wear jeans and a t-shirt without thinking such an outfit makes me look promiscuous, lol. As if I don't stand out enough already....

So I was excited to come back to the Middle East without blonde hair. For those of you who haven't seen me in a while, my hair is a deep red, almost maroon these days. I love it. And I was thinking, wonderful, I won't stand out as much without the blonde hair! I neglected to think about the fact that red hair is actually more uncommon here than blonde. Either makes people stare, but I can't tell you how many times I've been walking by a group of guys and even if they are respectful enough to not say anything to me, sometimes I still see them nudging each other and saying "Akhmar, akhmar" - "red, red." Oh well. Today before walking downtown a group of us were outside one of our buildings and a bunch of the Yemeni kids from the area were outside with a football. Somehow we all ended up playing a little game of football with them (as much as can be played in a narrow alleyway leading out to a street). Being very much ourselves, we yelled and cheered and ran after the boys and pulled our baltus up to our knees to kick the ball. In less than about two minutes, we had succeeded in creating a massive traffic jam from the cars who were just stopping to stare at the strange foreign women who were out playing with the kids. (Kids are very well loved and taken care of here by their parents, but the parents never "play" with them, at least not in public.) But the best part was this little old half-bent Yemeni man who stopped at the end of the alleyway. He started cheering with us, and stood there for the full time we played, helping us stop the ball from going into the street and smiling ear to ear watching the kids play. He also barked at the cars to get them to keep moving. It was really funny.

I continue to be impressed with the helpfulness of the people here. I often hear people talk about how they don't like other countries because they worry about getting ripped off when buying stuff or whatever. And yes, negotiations are part of life here, especially for foreigners. But I have to say that the people here have been very fair to us. While you might have to barter, at least they're doing it face to face. It's not like in big cities in the U.S., where you would have to worry about things like pickpockets or your purse getting stolen or a rented car broken into. That stuff doesn't happen here. If you buy something that is a little heavy, like a case of water, the shop owner will jump out his store window to carry it back for you, or summon a little boy running in the streets to come and help you. I say all of this not to try and romanticize the culture here (certainly there are things that I dislike as well), but to point out that so many of the stereotypes that the West has been fed are incredibly misplaced. I hope as you read these blogs you'll become a little more curious about this part of the world and be willing to look beyond the typical western news reports or political or religious stereotypes and see the people who are here. Sure there are still huge cultural differences. But you might be surprised at how much they are actually like you.

"Two Americans Tested for Swine Flu." Sort of.

I don't know if any of you picked up on this, but there was international press coverage about "two Americans in Sanaa who were taken to the hospital and tested for swine flu." According to the article, the source, a member of the hospital's medical personnel who asked to remain annonymous, said the Americans exhibited, and I quote, "50% of the symptoms of swine flu." Which, incidentally, means they exhibited a fever. But anyway...

The two Americans were two of the guys here at the school where I'm studying. After going to the hospital to get checked on because of a high fever (at least half of us here have been down sick already in the first week we've been here), they returned to the school, only to have someone come back after them to request that they come back to be "tested" for swine flu. When they got back to the hospital, several men from the Ministry of Public Health showed up with clipboards to ask them questions. After quite some time, the man in charge stood up and announced, "I think no of you have swine flu!" and with that, the "test" was over.

We all got quite a kick out of the press story though. If only all the stories in our lives could be told with such finesse.

In other news, a bunch of us were invited to the marhkez of the guy who owns/runs this school today, and we got to hear some sweet Yemeni music played on the Uud while overlooking Sanaa at night. Talk about beautiful. There is a visiting professor here from William & Mary College who also plays and is checking out Sanaa in the hopes of doing some musicology research here in the future. While there I met a guy who runs an NGO here in Yemen who has invited me to come check out what "a Yemeni nonprofit looks like." While fully realizing many things are set in motion for targeted purposes, I am interested in checking this out and hope I'm able to before the summer ends.

masaa'a il-khier

Pictures from Buker

Pictures from Buker, Yemen - check them out at http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=86729&id=509602661&l=94008cf106

Pictures from Zakatin

An old village in the side of a mountain that currently boasts a population of four. Check out the pics at http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=86496&id=509602661&l=4f174baa39
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"Tiffany! You keep saying this!"

During one of my classes today, my professor gave each of us a series of words that we were supposed to conjugate in certain ways and add information to in order to talk about ourselves. So we went around the room, talking about all sorts of basic things like where we live and what time we do certain things, etc., and all was well until I started to talk about my work. Granted, I didn't even try to explain what I do. Trying to explain nonprofit organizations is difficult enough in the Middle East without getting into fun terms like "grassroots mobilization." The only thing I attemped to communicate about my work is that back in the United States, I work most of the time in an office from about 8 or 9am to 5pm (sure we all work at home too and no one only works 8/9-5, but again...my Arabic vocabulary isn't there yet). My grammar construction was going along just fine until we got to the last part of my sentence about work. My professor kept shaking his head, and he would ask me to repeat something. Then he would ask it in a different way. (These are Arabic-only classes unless the professor absolutely cannot communicate the meaning of something through your existing Arabic vocaulary or through pictures. They're quite adept at this, I must say...it's impressive.) Finally, after several minutes, our exchange ended like this - in English:

Professor: "Ahhhhh, Tiffany!" (he said it exactly like that too, it was pretty hilarious)
Me, mildly frustrated: "What am I missing??"
Professor: "You keep saying you work from 8-5! You keep saying this."
Me: "How else am I supposed to say that?"
Professor: "No, you say it correct, but you keep saying you work from 8-5."
Me: "I do."

And I wish I could describe to you the look of utter confusion and surprise that spread across his face at that moment. It was almost comical. After what felt like a full minute of silence, he said, "This is correct? You work from 8-5?" "Na'am." ("Yes" in Arabic.) After another pause his eyebrows raised slightly and then he said softly and simply, "Oh."

And with that, he stood up, turned around and started talking about something else.

That whole exchange sparked a conversation between me and some of my fellow language students about what sort of hours Yemeni people work. Were those hours strange because I am a female, or is that really considered a long day? I have noticed that oftentimes there are different people working at a shop from one hour to the next. Likely they are all men from the same family. Often you walk into a shop and there's no one there, but the man in charge is never far and always shows up right when you walk inside. Occasionally even a woman or young female child will be around to help if a woman comes into the shop. But at any rate, I really don't know what a typical work day is. I DO know that Yemenis make sure to carve out several hours a day to chew qat....

You never know what differences in culture will end up surprising people.

Pictures from Hababah, Yemen

Here's the link to my first set of pictures from Yemen - they're of Hababah, an old Yemeni city.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=86319&id=509602661&l=10a258a455

Friday at Hababah, Zakatin wa Buker

Friday is the equivalent of a Sunday in the United States - the religious day and the day when all the schools are closed. We didn't have Arabic classes today, but our professors didn't get the day off. Instead, they took us up into the mountains. Some of my fellow students and I spent the day in the Haraz Mountains and visited three particular sites.

Hababah - a city that lies on the Shibam plain between Thula and Shibam. People still live in this ancient city, though I think most of the houses and rooms are abandoned. It was like a walk back in time, like the secenary from some old movie. I'm going to try and post pictures of all of these places soon, so watch for them. And we got to sit through our first Yemeni security checkpoint on the way there...talk about exciting, lol.

Zakatin - a small village with a fortress that has a population of four. (Literally. We met them all. They were very friendly and the wife even prepared and served us all shay (tea) with mint, the common Yemeni beverage of choice. It's so sweet I think even U.S. southerners might not be the biggest fans...but I could be wrong about that.) The fortress is now used to house animals and seeds. Again, amazing pictures to come. Both of these cities/fortresses are made out of stone and rocks but for some reason have elaborate and colorful doors throughout, and all are locked with padlocks. Usually one person carries around all the keys on his belt or in her butla. We found it funny that the doors were locked, because the Yemeni people don't seem to steal from or cheat each other on much of anything. Plus it's not like tourists are taking over Yemen these days. Maybe as a precaution against the powers that be, who knows.

Buker - an historical village, in front of Zakatin, not far from Kowkaban, perched on top of a rocky "hill" (as the locals call it...but it was a little more than a hill in my opinion and you'll probably agree when you see the photographs!). Buker is famous for its houses that are built into the sides of the cliff. Buker was essentially destroyed during Yemen's civil war in the 1970s. But today, there is a new village built over the mountains in front of the old village. When you climb up to Buker, the view is beyond amazing - reminded me of the Grand Canyon in many ways, but really more beautiful. Apparently this village was very important in the history of Yemen as a lot of Immams and rulers were born and died here. We were joined by a handful of little kids who scamper over the sides of the mountains with no problem, many of them barefoot. It was one of the longest walks I've ever taken for the sake of lunch, lol (a few of the guys carried a cooler up and down and up again through the mountain pass to get to the other side) but totally and one hundred percent worth the effort. One of the guys checked the altitude when we were not quite at the height of the mountain and we were 3000 kilometers above sea level, so I think we got close to 10,000 feet above sea level altogether. I even got to the point where I quit noticing that I was walking on shifting rocks that were often less than a foot from the side of the mountain drop off. Not too bad I guess. My balance must be getting better. :)

I am going to try and post pictures on my Facebook page and will post a link here when they are available.

Hospitality and Gender Relations

Among those of us who have travelled around a few parts of the Middle East, we have a general conensus: Yemenis are the friendliest people in the region and really take hospitality to a new level. It is not unusual here for a Yemeni shopowner to buy drinks for all the people in his shop. Of course there is an expectation that at least one person in the group will buy something, but unlike many other places, he doesn't attempt to rip you off. There are a number of different people from this part of our city who have met some of the students here and invited them to dinner or tea or to chew qat. You can ask anyone for help and they will help you. There is some bartering over prices but it is limited. Banks don't charge for exchanging money and always give you the correct rate; kids on the street will walk you somewhere if you get lost. And despite the fact that all the men walk around with jambias tied in their belts (a jambia is a J-shaped knife or dagger that portrays a man's family and class stature according to its ornamentation) and certainly sometimes make comments to the Western women (mostly just the commonly-known phrase "-ello, welcome to Yemen!" but also the occasional Arabic-accented "Oh my gawd," which I have to admit is mildly funny - probably had to be there), even the men are mostly respectful and will answer any question you may have. Yemenis are soft-spoken people, almost sultry in the way they speak. In that way they remind me a little of the Tamashek people in West Africa (JD, maybe you know what I'm talking about?).

So hospitality is certainly a characteristic of the Yemeni culture. It is interesting then to note how they act within their own culture - specifically with gender relations between the men and women.

Although many women have jobs, it is almost always "behind the scenes" kind of work. For example, here at this university, all of the teachers are male. The dean in charge of placing students in classes is a female, but she does not conduct classes herself. Many women work in the office and provide support, but the only two women that have a more prominent role - directing student affairs, essentially - are both Westerners. (One of them mentioned that since she has been here, she has seen three motorcycle accidents from men who were so busy staring at her blonde hair they just forgot they were on the street and rode right into a truck.) Tonight one of my fellow students and I ventured into the busy section of the old city to grab dinner. Most restaurants are small and have a men's section dowstairs and a women's section upstairs. The women's section is always older and they serve them last. But all the people working in restaurants are always male. I'm told some places have "mixed" seating, which means they have booths for families with curtains that can be drawn between the booths to ensure that men from one family don't see the women from another family. Yemeni women are notoriously curious, but only in the safety of the homes apparently. When walking around outside they always look straight at the ground.

And, like many other Middle Eastern countries, one of the cultural norms that makes Westerners uncomfortable is the common practice of holding hands everywhere you go. Grown men will hold hands with their male friends as they stroll down the street, and the same goes for women and teenagers of both sexes. They're not gay (homosexuality is illegal here); it's simply a cultural norm.

Today we had our first official "Qat" gathering. Welcome to the ultimate Yemeni social networking time. I would like to say that, despite the obvious popularity of qat, I'm not sure if I'll get used to seeing grown men walking around all the time smiling with bulging cheeks and green teeth. We'll see. More on the Qat culture to come. :)

Fii al-Yemen

Ironically, I have access to facebook here but the blogger access is sketchy at best. If I can get it to work I'll update in both places, but for now I guess my updates will come via FB.

I haven't taken any pictures yet because people here aren't very fond of them and I would prefer to make a few friends before snapping pictures. But to give you a taste of the way Sanaa looks, think of buildings made of stone that range in height from one to maybe six or up to eight stories. Amusingly, none of them seems to be particularly straight. A look at any of the buildings will reveal walls and roofs and all go at slightly different angles. I wouldn't be surprised at such structure for buildings built into the sides of mountains (as is the case with many buildings in Yemen) but it seems a little comical for those built in the city. However, for a city that claims to have existed for the past 2500 years and according to tradition was founded by Shem (Noah's son), I suppose the mere fact that so many of these buildings have continued on in their present form for so long more than makes up for being a little crooked.

The old city of Sanaa is not far from our buildings and a couple of us went there today. You can find many marketplaces in this area, as well as a large and beautiful mosque. Food is very cheap. A group of five of us ate a great dinner of hubz, dijaj, foula, ruz wa coca-cola (bread, chicken, foula - a dip type dish (for lack of a better explanation) made with lentils and other vegetables) rices and, well - coca-cola. The meal was far more than we could eat and cost a total of $7.50. For all the germaphobes in the world, Yemenia dining may not be for you. The waiter brought out a plastic sheet (sort of like a flat garbage bag), tossed it over most of the table, and tossed the bread on top. Everything you eat with your hands. Actually relatively clean by ME standards but it wouldn't pass any health inspector test in the U.S., that's for sure. Other goods are also pretty cheap. One of my roommates bought a beautifully designed cashmere scarf at a local shop and it cost her the equivalent of $5 USD, without much bartering at all. I bought the traditional Yemeni dress today, the complete outfit (meaning I can manage to walk outside with only my eyes showing). This outfit is usually only worn by women when they go outside the house. Inside they wear pants, jeans, skirts, just like women in many other countries. In fact, when they walk down the street, you can usually see the jeans peaking out from the bottom of their butla (dress). Just an interesting note since I don't think most people realize that.

Arabic classes have started as well. The Yemenis speak a dialect of Arabic very close to fusHa (the written form), which is nice. They do however have a few of their own conjugation patterns and they also speak very softly, with no hard consonents. That's a little different from the way I had been learning so I'm having to relearn to speak quite a bit, but it's fun.

My fellow Taaliba al-lugha al-Arabiia (Arabic language students) run quite the array of student interests or occupations. We have an associate dean from Harvard, a grad student from Mexico City who played piano in the national symphony, a guy from Great Britain who is working to build banking infrastructure in Iraq, several students from various disciplines, etc. Makes for conversation that is never boring.

One last note for the night. There is a deaf man who sells "lighters" on the steps of one of the popular streets in one of the main marketplaces. By "lighters" I essentially means something that looks exactly like a lighter from the outside, but is actually a tiny flashlight that projects an image onto wherever you shine it. The man is deaf so he communicates what he's selling by hand motions. A few of my fellow students met him yesterday when he was making a sign of hanging himself with a noose. Upon closer inspection they found he was selling lighters with Saddam's picture. Only fifty cents.

Rolling power outages are common throughout Yemen and usually happen multiple times a day. When the power goes out it takes the internet with it, and this is about the time of night when those outages take place, so I'm signing off. Anyway it is time for me to catch up on sleep - a total of about eight hours over the last three days is not quite enough for this Imbara'a. Good night!

Gotta love MSN

Since my email address is hosted by MSN, whenever I close out my inbox, I get to see the MSN headlines for the day. Today there was a picture of an amazing looking steak with a link that said "Find the best steaks in your area!" Naturally, being an American who wasn't the least bit hungry, I clicked on the link. And with a search based on my zip code that was automatically generated, up popped the list.

Best steak in my area?

"Steak and Shake." No joke.

Followed by a few other fast food joints, and about 25 on the list was an actual steakhouse in the area that serves, y'know, MEAT.

Restraining sarcastic comment about quality news sources...

"I have never had a day of clarity in my life."

One of my favorite stories of all time is the account of a conversation between Mother Teresa and John Kavanaugh, the noted philosopher. Mr. Kavanaugh had gone to Calcutta for about three months in the 70s to spend time with Mother Teresa and "regroup" or "refuel" as he considered the next move in his career. At one point during this experience, Mother Teresa asked what she could pray about for him. Feeling blessed to have such a woman offer to pray on his behalf, Mr. Kavanaugh responded without hesitation, "Pray that I would have clarity as I seek out what I should be doing next with my life." Mother Teresa smiled gently and responded, "No. I won't do that." Surprised, Mr. Kavanaugh responded, "Why not? You have certainly always had clarity!" The little woman laughed and shook her head. "John," Mother Teresa replied, "I have never had a day of clarity in my life. What I have always had is trust. And that is what I shall pray that you will have as well."

I love this thoughtful exchange because it is powerfully true, and it is something I can completely relate to. I have likewise never had a day of clarity in my life. But I can say this: I have seen Jesus, and I know God. I don't understand Him, but I KNOW Him. And that is enough. Fully enough to provide all the strength I need for one more day of following after the most radical and scandalous Savior the world has ever known.

Pictures of Sana'a

The first time I travelled to the Middle East was back in 2004. I remember looking out over the hillsides of Amman one afternoon and commenting to my friend Jessica with an emphatic shake of my head, "This place is beautiful." She tilted her head, studied the landscape for a moment, and then replied, "It's pretty. Don't know if I would call it beautiful."

Beauty is certainly in the eye of the beholder. But that being said, to this day I love the landscapes that stretch across the vast lands of the Middle East. Surveying pictures of Sana'a, Yemen, make me that much more excited to be spending the summer there. Sana'a has a very different look from other places I've travelled in the ME, but it incorporates some of the classic elements of the region that I love so much. Check out these links to see for yourself:

National Geographic

Old Sana'a

Wayfaring

Re-entry Program for a Repeat Blogger

Yours truly is re-entering the blogosphere. To my fellow repeat bloggers who have written blogs, gained a following, and then randomly deleted them, welcome. So glad to be among friends. To all others, I make no promises of consistent updates, but feel free to follow. I would love to have you around.

I'm heading off to Yemen for the summer and am unsure of the accessibility of facebook there, so I've decided to find an alternate place to store random updates. Anyway facebook profiles take for-ev-er to load with any connection that's not highspeed, and while I recognize patience as a virtue, it is not one that I seem to possess (at least liberally). A move to an official blog site seemed in order.

Stay tuned.