Polygyny

While there are some who think that most Muslims are marrying tons of Muslimas or that polygyny is the norm in the Middle East, I might be the opposite - I was expecting practically none and was actually shocked by the little I saw in Syria.

From when I began studying "the Middle East," or took some courses on Islam, it was repeated almost ad nasuem while though polygyny is allowed, and on the books in most Muslim countries (notible exceptions: Tunisia and Turkey), it is and has been throughout history not the norm. It's hard enough to afford one family, let alone two or four. When I studied in Egypt for six months, I can't say I exactly immersed myself in Egyptian society (I went to AUC) but I never met or heard a hint of these kinds of marriages. Oh sure, it happens, but rarely. Ok, it happens more than rarely in the Gulf, cause they have all that money.

Oh sure there are the jokes: I remember in Dubai once meeting an Emirati, family friend of a friend, who was gorgeous. My girlfriend and I stared. I failed to notice the wedding ring, but my friend (his friend) told me to cheer up: there's room for more. He's already got his respectable Emirati wife, you could be the scandelous foreign one. But this was all on the same level of serious as a teenagers catcalling a group of girls, "why don't you all mary me! C'mon, the religion says it's okay!"

In Syria, I have been amazed how many families with more than one wife I have met. Granted, if your stereotype of Arabs is oppressive men hauling around truckloads of wives, the few families I've met would contradict that. And it's important to note that they are a few among the many, many families I've met.

The first woman contradicted all of my stereotypes: she's a businesswoman, living alone with her children, making money, doing well. Married three times before, she divorced them all because each was an asshat in his own right. Her current husband lives in Lebanon with his other wife, and visits every other weekend or so. Sometimes she visits him. After some shitty, abusing, controlling husbands, this one suits her just fine.

The situation, though, does not suit the other woman fine. I've only heard about her, so this is all hearsay, but she's a foriegner who fell in love, got married, gave birth to seven children, and then was informed by her husband one day that there's another woman. Her son, my friend, told me the first wife stopped all relations and is still pissed. Husband can't believe it. He gave her seven children, a house, a good life. I mean, he remarried four years ago, get over it. I said that probably to her, her husband has been cheating on her twice a month for four years. She doesn't get over it, its a reopened wound every time he goes to Damascus. When they got married, I bet it never crossed her mind that a few decades later he'd be all, thanks for the babies and years, I'm gonna go get my swerve on in a religously-sanctioned fashion.

Most of the women I know who are in polygynous marriages are the first wives, which is obviously different than being the second wife. Their husbands, for the most part, seem like asshats, using weak-ass excuses to marry exclusively younger women. A friend was trying to tell me that some women don't mind - which I'm sure there are some who don't - but used the example of one of Um Tareq's friends. When her husband wanted to remarry, she went out and vetted the girls. I said this doesn't mean necessarily that she loves the idea, but thinks there's no getting around it and being involved in the process is a way to have some control over it. Months later, she comes to Um Tareq, crying that her husband ignores her and spends all his time with the other wife, who is now pregnant (and 20 years old - first wife and hubby are in their late 40s).

Another woman I know divorced her husband because he wanted to marry another woman. It adversely affected her living situation. This is a huge problem - if the woman doens't have any idependent wealth and her husband gets all asshaty and wants to marry again, what are her choices? Divorce, and live on what?



Another friend of the Umahat (moms), who mostly live in Jeramana and love me for some reason, is essentially separated from her husband. He wanted to marry some one "in order to have a boy". Nevermind the couple already has a boy - he's actually grown and getting engaged soon. When the subject has come up before, I've been told her inability to have a boy is a legitimate reason to remarry (even though in the same conversation it's been admitted that, yeah, the sex comes from the father). And in this, there's already a boy.

It's complete bullshit, especially when the source says treatment between wives has to be equal. Of course, the responsibilies are completely set aside when dudes are grabbing the "rights" afforded to them. That condition of equality doesn't interfer with marrying a younger woman, moving in with her, and ignoring the "old" wife in many cases. Then there are the men who go behind their wives back and secretly marry. Wife may know or not. Yeah, like I'm sure that's completely halal and exactly what God meant.

When polyandry has come up in discussion, I've been told that its because a woman just couldn't handle this - women are sensitive creatures who couldn't love more than one. Ah, bullshit.

I know polygyny is a lot more nuanced than this - my first example is some one who is very happy with her shared husband. It's possible there are some very happy families where everyone is pleased with the situation and gets along fine. I haven't met them. Generally, from my experience, it makes for some very unhappy women and asshat men. Though I'm not a Muslim, I'm in favor of the train of thought that interprets Sura 4:3 as historically limited or saying: marry one, two, three, or hour, but if you can't be equal, marry only one. And who can be truly equal and fair, besides God? No one. So focus on making that one wife happy.

Neat Bread

I have watched Um Tareq every time there is bread from the government oven - at 15 lira a rabta the price can't be beat and it's also much tastier and filling than the more expensive siyahi bread - perform a ritual. She takes each flat piece of pocket bread out one by one from the government bag, makes a whole in an edge, uses her hand to seperate the sides, then folds the bread and put them by eights into bags for the freezer.

I have been told I should start helping around the house more. I occupy a weird place between daughter and renter. We can watch Turkish muselsels together and discuss the attractiveness of Asmar vs. Sameer, but I also stay out late and it's not eib. But I'm trying to help out in my gender-neutral way: going out sometimes to fetch items like a boy, and folding bread like a girl.

By first attempt did not go well. I imitated the actions, but the desired result was not acheived. I couldn't perceive a difference between my folded bread and hers, but each piece she unfolded and reopened and refolded.

I've gotten better, but the last time I finally thought to ask her why we were doing this. I assumed that seperating the sides meant the bread would freeze better and come out fresh once dethawed, not crumbly and crap.
"So it looks neat (muratab)," she said.
"Really? Neat?"
"Bread comes from the bakery and they've got these wrinkles. Like with clothes I've got to make them look nice."

I laughed really long, and Um Tareq laughed with me, asking why I thought we folded the bread. I said you know, the freezing process. She laughed and said no, so it looks nice.
"I open it and flatten it and get all of the wrinkles out." She then saw a wrinkle-less piece, told me it didn't need anything since it was already neat and pretty.

"But we're going to eat the bread," I said.
"yes, so it should look nice."
"Do they not do that in America?" No, in my experience, American don't care whether our pitas are wrinkled. Um Tareq laughed. Ajanab are weird.

Amerrica

So it's finally come time for me to visit my watan. It's only a visit, for now, as I see grad schools and the family.

It's been a while, ya US. When I left it was Sept 07 and every one hated the government but there was mooooney! Now I'm half-expecting to find abandoned, decaying buildings where the luxury high-rises in New York were going up. And Michigan... things weren't all that great back in the boom, and now I imagine they'd be worse. Much worse.

Anyways, ya America, looking at cha in March.

Achieving Dreams Without Shiny Hair

A couple of months ago, there was a commercial for Pantene. In it, a woman washed her hair, which became so brilliant and shiny she could change a sign reading NO WORK AVAILABLE to WORK AVAILABLE (I forget exactly what was written in Arabic - لا توجد وظيفة?). Seconds later, she emerged victoriously from the building, hair scintillating in the sun, and announced, "Now I'm a journalist!"

At the time, I scoffed.

Turns out, it might be easier than that. Even lacking shiny hair I was able to send a few emails, knock on a few doors, and a month later (it was Eid, then Christmas, then New Year's), hey! I'm writing.

It's fun. Today I got to go to the test run of the Syrian stock market. Wearing sneakers no less, because my ankle is still healing. Yesterday I chatted with a gentleman about Islamic banking. A week ago, it was pretending I know anything about art. I'm also visiting gyms and annoying sweaty ladies with my questions.

French

When I began learning Arabic oh so long ago, and would say خ for ج, or mess up case endings, or find myself resorting to complex body language when completely unable to verbally communicate, I thought fondly of French. I was never a Francophile, and thought Madame Marsh unbearable in high school, but in retrospect it was easy. I took breaks from French, a year or two, but found picking it back up again in high school or college simple. Just a quick review of the irregular verbs and voila, I was once again one of the better students in the class, annoying the others with my answering questions and writing longer essays and doing extra credit comics.

Sure, in the four years since I last took a French class, I knew I've been getting rusty. But I could easily scan a newspaper. And didn't I translate for lusty Americans and Tunisian footballers in 2006? And don't I listen to France Gall, Brigitte Bardot, and Francoise Hardy and understand them all the time? When I went to Tunisia last year and I found myself telling people over and over again, seriously, just speak to me in Arabic. It's easier. So I thought I might need to brush up on those skills a bit. That's all.

I showed up early on a Friday morning to take a placement test at the French Cultural Centre. A French woman asked me things, and I struggled to say anything back.

It's hot in here, right? she said, and I wanted to say yes, but it is cold outside. I said "Oui, mais il est .... froid... fait... il fait froid..." I pointed to the window "...burra... kharij" more pointing. Silence. (What is French for kharij!!!) Defeat.

All the words I wanted to say were there, just in Arabic.

The women nicely, and slowly, told me that even though I might do well on the written test, I showed probably go into a lower level than I test since my French is better suited for miming than actual conversation.

I'm three weeks into the class now and all I can say is damn, Syrians be speaking some French. I though what with my mother tongue being much closer to French I would be a star pupil. Instead, every time I speak I have to repeat myself at least thrice cause the teacher cannot understand me. I have by far the worst accent in the class. I know Americans and Brits are famous for our horrible French accents ("But isn't it at least a little cute, like when French have horrible English accents?" I once asked a French friend. Answer: no). And most of the Syrians in the class sound good, and the worst are at least understandable. They also know grammer. I'm doomed. My only advantage is in vocabulary, as I am very good at guessing the meanings of cognates. Though I am at a loss to explain their meaning in French.

Every time we're called on to answer a question, I think how freaking easy it would be in Arabic. Like, I could just say it.