So last week I went up to the norther Badia (semi-desert) area near the town of Mafraq to speak to a couple of charity programs there. This is one of the poorest areas of Jordan, and is a stark contrast to Um Uthayna, abdoun, and shmeisani which are the wealthy residential and embassy districts of Amman where I live and spend much of my time. There are few jobs in the northern badia, and many towns there used to rely on income from smuggling various goods, such as cigarettes and goats across the nearby border with Iraq. Since the occupation, however, the border has been closed, and that sort of informal economic activity has mostly stopped. Now, in the words of one woman I spoke to, there are no more opportunities, only dust and poverty. That woman lives in a housing project built by Islamic Relief about 15 years ago. What started out as a charitable endeavor has turned into an investment, since the company hired to build the apartment complex took the IR money, built the project, and then (presumably w/o Islamic Relief's knowledge) started charging the poorest of the poor (who moved in with a promise of free housing) rent and/or bogus maintenance fees. It was an interesting example that not all of the charitable sectors woes in Jordan can be blamed on oppressive US financial policies. Bad management, both malicious and simple incompetence, plagues many projects. Another example is the 10 million JDs (about 14 million USD) the National Aid Fund has invested in micro-finance projects in recent years. The vast majority (something like 96%) of these projects have failed due to lack of training/management skills. For these poorest people of Jordan, many families live on the income generated by, for example, one son who landed a job in the army, or on direct cash assistance from NAF, which does little to change the overall situation and doesn't provide any incentive for people to try to change that situation themselves.

So, mom, remember how I had initially been thinking about doing my ISP on Iraqi refugee children recently admitted by Royal decree into the public school system? for anyone who doesn't know, these refugee children have been allowed to enter the education system here regardless of legal status, putting a further strain on Jordan's overtaxed education systems. I was interested in seeing how they adapted, and what quality of education their are receiving. However, a friend from the program was interested in a similar topic, so I let him have it, as there were plenty of other fascinating things to study. Well it turns out that was a good decision, because after a couple of weeks of constantly dealing with bureaucracy, and waiting for approval, it became clear that the Government, specifically the ministry of education, was not keen on his project, and had decided not to to let it happen. As such, he was forced to switch topics and try to get his research done in the remaining two weeks. I actually ran into similar problems, and was told by the ministry of social development that I could not speak to government employees. I have made do with simply talking to Charities (I am studying the impact of the financial war on terror on charity work in Jordan). That has largely been sufficient, and I have been able to glean the government positions from other sources. That said, it has been an interesting experience of the challenges of field research.

So today is election day in Amman. These are the parliamentary elections, and the city is Abuzz with the excitement of democracy in action. Well sort of. There are so many candidates to choose from, and despite that each person has multiple representatives from their district, Jordan still used a 1 person 1 vote policy. This means that depending on the number of representatives per district, the power of any one persons vote is not equal to someone else in another district, a policy instituted (?) years ago to limit the power of the IAF (the political wing of the muslim brotherhood, and then only real opposition here in Jordan.) The IAF candidates have also been pre-approved by the government, and its number of seats limited to 20. (out of 110 i think). additionally, while voter turnout is said to be 50%, only about 10% of people vote for a candidate based on competence or platform, the rest vote primarily along the strong existing tribal ties, or for whichever candidate will give them 10 JD (about 14 dollars) for their support. This bribing is very open, and according to my friend who was at a polling station today, the money is openly exchanged, while the police do nothing, despite complaints by opposition party campaign workers. I was in a cab yesterday on the way to raghadan bus station (I spent yesterday up north doing research and interviews) and asked the driver about the elections. When i asked if he was planning on voting, he laughed and said "tomorrow is a day for sleep," referring to the fact that election day is also a holiday when few people work. Democracy in Action...

So it has been a busy week. Somehow I thought that ISP period would be way easier than normal classes, that i could just work at my own pace at something i am interested in. Instead, this whole unstructured time thing is harder than i thought. Jordanian hospitality, that turns even a simple introductory visit into a tea/coffee drinking extended conversation about just about anything turns what in the US could be a straight to the point interview into a 3 hour visit. While in the US we admire being to the point and going straight at an issue, here things are very different. First, if you want to get anything useful, it is important to develop a personal relationship and knowledge about the other person, in order to build trust. Hence, before i can get to my actual research subject, i usually know if the interviewee is married, if he has children, what tribe he is from, (or of palestinian descent) and vice versa. To go immediately to the topic would be the height of rudeness, and would get me nowhere. Another issue is that the Jordanian bureaucracy is incredibly cumberous. For example, I need a approval letter from the ministry of Social Development before i go on a trip north to speak with a couple Islamic Charities near Mafraq and in Irbid. It seems like a simple request, but at the earliest i will have the letter approved on Sunday, meaning something that was initially supposed to be taken care of with one quick visit has taken a week, which will be less time eventually to compile and analyze. So sorry, I'm done complaining. And all that aside, it is exciting to be working independently and setting up meetings and interviews, occasionally with very important people, some of whom have had a real impact on the course of this countries history.

Apologies for this recent hiatus in blog posts. We have been traveling alot to egypt and southern jordan in the last few weeks, and have until today been overwhelmed with arabic finals and presentations. Now, alhumdulilah all that is finished, and classes as such are over. Now we have a month of research ahead of us on our individual study projects. I specifically am looking at Islamic Charities in Jordan, specifically focusing on the impact of the War on Terror on those charities. According to my limited research, the oversight by the CIA and other american intelligence organizations has deeply effected the ability of Islamic NGOs operating in Jordan, as it as dried up much of the money that used to come from the Gulf (There was also an intersting court ruling back home recently on this issue) I have found an excellent advisor who works for a government program and seems to know everybody I need to interview. Now that classes are over, i will have enough time to start focusing on contributing to this blog regularly Inshallah. There is much still to write about.

So we are in Cairo for a week at the moment, doing lots of touristy things and generally having a bit of a break from work. We have seen the pyramids, mosques aplenty etc, but perhaps the most effecting experience was what we did today on our day off. A few of us took a cab to the city of the dead. It is an ancient cemetery that has become a city in and of itself, a part of cairo, yet very separate. The whole area is surrounded by high walls, and the people live among the graves, using the mosaleums as houses and the graves as tables. Cairo has a huge housing problem, one that is only growing as the population of 17 million grows, about a million of whom live in the city of the dead, called in arabic muqabara, meaning simply the cemetery. These are the poorest who have been pushed out even of cairo's other slums. That said, we felt very safe throughout our meandering walk. IT was even a welcome break from the constant and overpowering hassling from vendors and locals marketing just about everything that you find in the touristy sections of Cairo like Khan alkhalil. We were the only westerners around, and while the was a couple times when children followed us asking for money quite vociferously, they were often shooed away by the adults, who as often as not had a smile and a sabah alkhaier (good morning) (and unlike the rest of Cairo, not followed by some wily marketing scheme.) As we walked out, a driver pulled over and gave us a brief but heartfelt rant about how the rest of Cairenes and he governement don't know or care about this place, and he described it as a habs. We thought he was saying bread at first (hobz) and were confused, but realized later that habs meant prison.

I just got home from going to a mosque for evening prayer. We went with a friend of one of our Arabic teachers, as well as one of the home stay brothers of two of the guys from our group. We entered the mosque, having removed our shoes, and went downstairs to perform the ablution (cleaning ritual) that is required before going to pray, which basically consists of washing hands, face, arms, ears and feet three times each. Then we went back upstairs and sat in the back of the prayer room. It was quite beautiful, with high domed ceiling encircled with the 99 names of God and beneath that were elaborate, calligraphic verses of the Qur’an. Everyone prays towards the Mihrab, the ornate niche on the southern wall that faces Mecca, though of course we simply watched. The Imam is apparently a very good one, and his recitations were beautiful and full of emotion. At one point he broke down very briefly before continuing. After prayer we stayed a while and discussed the process and meanings of prayer with our two Muslim friends who brought us there, as well as chatting with the friendly, curious, and of course eminently hospitable Jordanians who came over to welcome the American visitors to their mosque (we don’t blend in very well.) This mirrors just about all of my experience with Jordanians, who, while they have deep, sincere beliefs and arguments, particularly with regards to american and Israeli government policies, are very eager to discuss the issues with us. And the idea that those policies, which have without a doubt caused hardship for the Jordanian people (60% of whom are Palestinian) who used to get 75% of their oil for free from Saddam should be an obstacle for friendship on an individual level is extremely rare, even towards the members of our group who are also US Marines.

So as per requested, here is a rough description of what most days are like for me. The first three hours of school from 9 to 12 are Arabic class, with the first hour and a half in Aamiya (colloquial) Arabic, and the second half in Fusha (pronounced Fus-ha) which is the formal written Arabic used in books, academia, and media. Needless to say, I am usually ready to crash at the end, given the amount and intensity of concentration needed to keep up and stay on top of what is going on. After that there is the lunch break of an hour and a half, followed by a lecture, often from a prominent academic, politician, or activist, depending on what the focus of the week is. For example, the week before last was focused on women in Jordan, and on Tuesday (I think) we had a lecturer who is a female member of parliament in the Islamic Action Front party. She is a member of the Shura council of the IAF, which is the political wing of the Muslim Brotherhood. Despite the fact that her views contrasted sharply with many of ours, she was one of the most charismatic and interesting speakers we have had. After lecture, there is usually a period of hanging out at SIT, chatting, and mostly making use of the internet there. While home here is certainly nice, I usually like to go somewhere after class, such as downtown or various other sights, after which I head home and do some homework. Right now, and for a few more days, it is Ramadan here, meaning that most people go all day without consuming anything, even water. Iftar, meaning to break fast, is the main event of the day, and takes place around 6:30, as soon as the sun sets. The meals are always delicious, and are usually some combination of rice and chicken, though the first two days of this week was homemade french bread Pizza. Perrhaps the most interesting aspect is just before sunset. We all load up our plates, pour drinks, then sit looking at it, longing for it, until the muezzin’s calls of Allahu Akbar (God is Great) ring out from the mosques (or in our family’s case, the TV set). At that moment, virtually everyone across the entire city digs in simultaneously with the relish of a people who haven’t eaten since the morning meal of Suhour, which happened at 430 am or so. In my family, Iftar is followed by some Arabic coffee and relaxed tv watching. Often, we take Iftar at the Aunts house, in which case we spend the time afterwards sitting around playing cards, smoking argileh, trading English and Arabic words, and talking about almost anything. Its also an excellent time to do homework, since the whole extended family delights in pitching in and correcting whatever I am writing, then arguing with each other over semantics of some translation or piece of formal Arabic grammar. After that, it’s back home to finish any work, and perhaps another cup of Arabic coffee and a bit of TV, usually either an American sitcom or Al Jazeera before bed.

On saturday we went to the hot springs, known as Hamamat Ma'in. While frolicking in the hot, mineral heavy water was fun enough, the resort wasn't as impressive. Luckily we decided to stop at Mount Nebo on the way home. This is th place where according to the Bible God showed Moses the promised land, and also told him he couldn't cross into it. The view is spectacular, though the Haze diminished it slightly. The above picture is actually from google images, since to my chagrin I used up a lot of battery taking videos of the view from mount Nebo, and when i wanted to take a couple pictures, they finally ran out. I do have some pictures from the trip, but its class time now, so I'll upload them later.

So there have been a few new developments recently. For example, my roommate broke his foot on thursday night, resulting in my first exposure to the Jordanian healthcare system. I was very positively impressed. We got to the ER, and he was immediately treated and casted up, and while apparently by Jordanian standards it was expensive(we intenitnally took him to the one of the best hospitals in Amman, and therefore the middle east) , it seemed relatively cheap to us. We would have gotten out of there even earlier if another one of our friends hadn't decided he wanted to come and chased after us by running througha field and twisted his ankle. So when he did find us at the hospital, he had a potrusion the size of a small apple on his ankle, and had to get x rayed as well.

So we went to a Wahdat vs. Faisaly soccer game on saturday. For those who don't know, Wahdat is a southern section of Amman that started out as a Palestinian refugee camp, and has become part of the city, albeit one of the rougher neighborhoods. Faisaly is the team supported by Jordanian Jordanians, while Wahdat is the Palestinian-Jordanian team. Before we went, it seemed that everyone we talked to was flabbergasted (yes i used flabbergasted) that we would even think of going, since apparently the games can get pretty rough in the stands. We went anyway, and it turned out to be actually quite tame, as far as soccer games go. We meant to support Faisaly, but ended up sitting in the Palestinian section, so we cheered for Wahdat, and claimed to be Canadian. We were actually quite popular, and at one point the entire palestinian section was chanting CANADA CANADA CANADA. It probably would have been different if we had told the the truth. Somehow i can't imagine them adopting AMERICA AMERICA AMERICA as one of the chants.

Last week I went and spent a few days living with the bedouin of southern Jordan. Their lifestyle is relatively modern, their values are very traditional, and their arabic was relatively easy for me to understand. The next couple posts are from my writing i did there.

So we have spent today basically identically to the first day in the Baadiya, which means we walked around meeting various members of the extended family of Abu Dannah which basically makes up the population of Bir Abu Dannah. Ahmed introduced me to his 1942 perfectly preserved German infantry rifle. I also met one of the oldest surviving members of the Abu Dannah family, who offered me half of his land (which apparently is significant) if I said the Shahada and became a Muslim. That was followed by much more drinking of that excellent sweet tea. The whole day was fascinating, but the more informative experience came later. A cousin of the Abu Fawzi family that i stayed with is a 14 year old kid named Muhamed, who has taigh himself English with the help of a textbook, TV, and a prodigious, if not photographic memory. While my Arabic was working for simple communication, Muhamed was the first chance I had to get a sense for the politics and beliefs among the bedouin themselves. TO begin with, the whole set of political assumptions and beliefs are quite different from mine. Iraq was for obvious reasons the most popular subject. Saddam Hussein is a hero to these people, for being a strong arab leader who stood up to the western powers, and the way he died certainly contributed to his martyr status. I tried to point out to Muhamed that Saddam had done some awful things to his own people, and muhamed brushed it off, saying those people tried to kill him, therefore justifying what happened to them. IT also illuminated something that had happened earlier, when i had been walking between villages with the brothers of my host family and a a friend of theirs, who holds a religious position of some sort at the mosque. Zaid has a ringtone on his phone that consists of inspirational traditional music with Saddam Hussein speaking his own poetry in a voice over. The other guest told me in arabic that that ringtone makes his heart beat faster, and I got the sense that he was expecting an argumentative responce. I didn't know at the time, however, that it was Saddam, so i didn't oblige. I have discussed it with other people, namely muhamed,who pointed out after a rather exasperated exchange that according to the rules of Islam, this disagreement should compliment, rather than diminish our friendship. There was also at least a hint of admiration in his eyes when he talked about al-Jubr, the insurgent sniper who has allegedly killed "160" US troops. Also on the subject of different assumptions, many people, even the Britain educated Dr. Fawzi, are skeptical about whether the 9/11 attacks were carried out by Arab terrorists. I often found myself taking a much more American government line in an attempt to balance out what i was hearing. It was frustrating at times, but the biggest trap would be to assume that I am any different from them, no matter how genuinely i believe personally in the accuracy of my base of political and factual assumptions.

The trip thus far has already been exciting, with the bag incident in addition to the typical experiences of getting to know a new culture and people. The bag issue has been mostly resolved, and things are pretty much back to normal. The incident did however, have a much deeper effect upon me than the inconvenience of losing my clothes and a few amenities. To give the basic story, I took a van from the airport, and upon arrival at the hotel, left it in the car after paying the driver as I ran up to check if the hotel was open, and he drove away with my bag. When the program began a couple of days later, the police became involved, and mounted quite an effort to get the bag back. Since it was unclear whether it was malicious, and apparently the way in which I was approached and offered a ride was illegal, the driver and an airport worker who helped me with my bag and procured my ride were identified on surveillance, apprehended, and jailed. At that point, things had gone much further than I intended, and after I made it clear that jail was unnecessary, the men were released into the custody of their tribes. Already I was experiencing the Jordanian sense of honor, which dictated seemingly draconian measures for my sake. In the US, the party that is deemed to be the victim is promised justice which will be carried out by the local DA office, that victim does not have the same amount of power that I had here. My words had the power either to mitigate any consequences, or to quite literally cause imprisonment and at the very least the firing of these two men. To be aware of that sort of power and responsibility was a very new experience, and especially humbling afterwards with the knowledge that a misspoken or misinterpreted word from me could have caused a lot of harm. I also emerged from the experience with a deep respect for the tribal methods of justice. Before when in idea of tribal justice was raised, what jumped to mind was honor killings or that movie “Behind the Sun,” in which the two families have been revenge killing each other for so long there is almost no one left. My experience with it in this case, and having learned more about since arriving here has convinced me of the usefulness of tribal law in solving problems in a flexible and subjective way quite different from the methods of modern law. In the end, of course, as the whole thing was almost certainly not malicious, the only option was forgiveness, and the refusal of any of the tribal tradition of compensation offered by the father of the driver. The family of the driver whom I had caused to be jailed, however briefly, was profuse in their invitations and made me promise to visit them during my stay here.

It is hard to articulate the respect I have gained for Jordanian hospitality, customs, and people already through some rather adverse experiences.

Despite the fact that we are already a couple of weeks in to the program, i think i should start at the beginning. Having through a variety of circumstances for which i was mostly to blame, i spent the first couple of days in Amman alone and without my bag, which means i had basically the clothes on my back,along with my passport and luckily my money. The experience of being entirely self reliant in an utterly new place was something very new to me. I have almost always had nearby some sort of moral and usually material support my entire life. Even in the first days of NYU, things were structured and in any case, everyone had a common language. For the first two I two days here, I was satying in the poor, downtown area of Amman, where the ambient culture and lifestyle was compltely different from anything i had experienced. That said, I cannot claim to have dealt with things completely alone. On the first day, i was wandering around looking for clothes and getting to know the district, and was immediately befriended by a couple local shop keepers. One of those was a handicrafts maker named hagop, who blows and paints small glass ornaments and souvenirs. He also speaks excellent English, and for all my talk to wanting immersion arabic, in the situation i was in, it as a relief. Hagop is one of the kindest, most sincere men you will ever met. When in a moment of weakness i tried to place all the blame on the driver for losing my bag, he politely but firmly told me it was my bag, and therefore my responsibility. That said, it also offended his sense of Jordanian hospitality that the bag wasn't e returned to my hotel after it seemed the driver would have found it. Anyway, Hagop showed me the area, taught me the basics of the bargaining ("you must be strong with these people") that is the key to getting decent prices as well as respect in the downtown souqs. When I left for the upper middle class areas of the program, I bought a beautiful little candle holder from him, and despite my triple refusal, eventually accepted a small glass ornament as a gift. Having sat and talked with him as he painstakingly painted each detail of the design for hours, I deeply appreciated the gift. I plan on visiting Hagop frequently this trip, and he said i should come and bahka al arabia so he can correct the arabic i learn in class.