In the past week we've had several mini-events that didn't make it into the last blog, and we wanted to update you all on them.
My favorite moment from the week was when Daphna turned in an assignment with the title: أنا سنيّة. She meant to write: أباسنيّة, which is the name of our favorite Ethiopian restuarant back home (Abasynnia). Instead, أنا سنيّة means "I am Sunni." Our teacher picked it up and went fairly white. We hadn't truly discussed religion, and here it appeared that Daph was well on her way to converting. . . . And what did lentils have to do with her conversion, anyhow?
At least, in this heavily Sunni country, she didn't write "I am Shiite." We might have had to find an early flight home. . . .
Oh, the little dots that are so important to Arabic. . . .
The same teacher invited us to lunch last Thursday at a restaurant. She introduced us to several new dishes -- semi-pickled turnips, fatoush (Middle East taco salad: basically "Israeli" salad with fried bread in it), an odd canned-mushroom salad, and more. At the end of the meal, Daph and I did what was only natural. We grabbed the bill. When our teacher realized we were serious, she went really white and got rather upset. Apparently, while trying to be American-polite, we had insulted her honor (though she still won -- she was able to pursuade the cashier in Arabic to take her money and not ours. . . our skills are still not beyond hers). . . .
Speaking of (and in) Arabic, each week at the Souk, we start at the same dried beans and spices store that we are loyal to because on our first visit, due to a misunderstanding, we overpaid and the owner called us back and returned the extra money we had given him (even though it was clear, due to the denominations, that we didn't have a clue). Now, each week he gives us a chocolate and his cousin speaks "Arabeezi" (read, Spanglish without the Spanish but with Arabic) with us and helps us select what we want for the week. This week, his cousin, who is 18, told us that he wants us to teach him English. We agreed to do a trade at 6:00p the next night. True to form here in Jordan, he called around 8:00pm and asked where we were. He and another cousin then joined Fellatta and us at a cafe. Between Fellatta seeking advice on how to pursue a Tunisian student, and the boys talking about their various girlfriends (and the holy grail -- an American woman), we spent more time talking about dating then. . . well. . . it felt a lot like middle school. Is it love that is the international language?
We have also been peer-pressured by our other teacher, Rayjahn, to go on the Language Center whirlwind trip through Wadi Rum (the desert valley), Aqaba (the Red Sea Resort), and Petra this weekend. Wish us luck. Clif Bars, here we come!
We want to thank, again, everyone who has posted on the blog. Your e-mails and comments make us very happy, though we have some difficulty commenting back, for some reason. Know that it makes our day to read your notes.
We will be sleeping in the desert, now, for the second night of Pesach, perhaps even a stone's throw from where the Jews wandered oh-so-many years ago. We hope that you all enjoy your Seders, and find in the holiday a holy, happy, and (if desired) transformational experience. We are sending our love and thinking of you all.
Your Arabic phrases of the day:
Mustahil! مستحيل Impossible! (like in Kung Fu Panda.
Hal anda Elijah aseer anib? هل عند اليجح عصير عنب؟ Does Elijah have grape juice?
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Hi, dear ones: I wrote yesterday, but got my passwords mixed up and had to leave you before I was able to say I love you. Your experiences are fascinating to read about. I am grateful that Daph declared herself "Sunni" and not the other kind. Whew! That was close.
ReplyDeleteI got your e-mail saying you love me in Arabic.
I've been told that in Yiddish, German, Spanish, French; but this is a first, and I thank you!
I attended a beautiful seder at your parents' house last night. Having Hannah there added an additional joy to the event. However, the little ones: Huck, Jack and Wyatt got a bit restless and so we had to speed things up so we could eat. Nevertheless, your dad always manages to make things interesting, and it all worked out. Of course, we all missed you guys.
Hope you're doing okay. Am I just prejudiced,
or are you two looked upon as very special by your teachers? I can certainly understand that. Keep up the good work.
Grandma
The story about Daph's paper is really kind of frightening. First of all that a mere slip of the wrist while writing could cause you to fall into some sort of real danger. Who ever said words have no power? Has anyone in the history of the world ever said that?
ReplyDeleteI told the story to five or six eager listeners at work (EVERYONE wants to know how you're doing), and more than one person told me they had goosebumps. Because here it doesn't really feel like anything so mundane could cause a professor to turn sheet white. I think it's tricky for mainstream Americans to understand the concept of religion having any kind of true effect on people. It's so sort of benign here, you might remember.
It's a powerful reminder that religion means something in other places in the world. It's not just a convenience or inconvenience to them.
SIDE NOTE: the discussion of your story, and the subsequent discussion of goosebumps led us to wikipedia the etymology of the word "goosebump," and we found LOTS of cool stuff. Comes from what happens when you pluck a goose of all its feathers, the skin beneath is bumpy and irregular. So another way of expressing the feeling of getting goosebumps would be to say that it feels like all your feathers have been plucked. You are exposed for having true, naked feelings about something.
Is it possible to have a naked feeling about something?
Thanks for this "extra" post. Quite beautiful and telling about your time...