I am in a Valley

I am in a valley in terms of Arabic right now. Class is kicking my ass. To top it off, in order to get all the classes done before Eid we have class 6 days a week. Every night there are pages of readings, the new grammer is not so much explained as shouted and then we are berated for not understanding, and on top of this we are supposed to be reading a novel in the cracks of time. This is good - finally a challenge. But I do feel like concentrating on class has caused my Syrian to slide.

It's also a little annoying, being the only American in class, having to answer to the teacher's tirades against American policy. This is a strange position to find myself in, based on my own political leanings, but there's some shit I just have to clear up. Like the "America wants to make Iraq the 51st state" hypothesis.

The teacher also likes to quickly quote ancient poetry (and I mean quickly), and then looks happy when, as expected, we don't understand a word. He has also told us not to complain about the novel, he could read a 100-page novel in a day. So could I. In English.

Syria's Coming!

Syria's accepted the invitation to come to the Annapolis Peace Conference, I just read on Al-arabiyya's website. Though I would love to dwell on the implications and give my own humble opinion, I'm very busy since I have to give a freakin' two-hour presentation on this same topic Tuesday. Hopefully there's some Zionist in the class who will fight most every one else. That way, my presentation can consist of saying: "Israel. Go!" and serenely presiding over the ensuing tumult.

قصة قصيرة

كنت أنتظر رفيقي على جسر الرئيس في مطر, فكان في مطر ليومين كلهما هذا الاسبوع. ما كان عندي شمسية وكنت بردانة شوي ومبللة كثيرة. جاء اليّ شاب عمره 27 على الاكثر, واعطيني شمسيته. عرفت انّ هدفه ليس برىء. قلت له انّي لا اريد شمسيته وقال لي: بس ما عندك شيء.

. قلت: بس هالا انت ما عندك شيء
قال لي: مافي مشكلة. منين انت؟
فبدأ التغزل
قلت: من امريكا
قال اي متدهشا: امريكا؟ انت امريكية؟
قلت: اه
قال لي: انجد؟
قلت: اه
قال لي: بتحكي عربي منيحة. قديش صار لك هن؟
قلت: شهرين تقريبا
طلب مني رقمي موبيل ورفضت. طلب مني موعد الى معطم لنسف الرد. سالني لمذا وقلت له: عندي صديق, فهمت شلون؟ عندي بويفريند
قال: بدك ثاني؟
قلت: لا,مع وحد في مشاكل بكافي
فاخبرني انه في الامن واذا عندي اي مشكلة لازم اتصل به وحاول ان يعطيني رقمه فمشيت الى مكان ثاني في الجسر

Mehndi Party

The night before the wedding, it was time for a Mehndi Party!


But of course, the best designs were for the bride:

Election Tomorrow

The big news here is the Lebanese presidential election to be held tomorrow, after being delayed 4 times. The news is all ablaze on the topic, especially on the the high interest that America, France, Britain, Israel, Syria, Iran, and others have in the result. Basically (and very basically) from the multitude of Lebanese political parties there are two camps: "pro-West" and "pro-Syrian" (including Hizbollah). The two sides have to agree on a presidential candidate, who must be a Maronite Christain because of Lebanon's insane constitution. The Christians themselves are split between the two camps.

If the parliament cannot decide on one candidate tomorrow, many fear that the two camps, who are probably training and arming supporters, will form rival governments, and its 1975 all over again.

The family I live with and I watch TV together, them agreeing with various mps and ministers from the latter camp. They were impressed that I know from what sect each of Lebanon leaders must be from (President, Maronite Christian; Prime Minister, Sunni; Deputy Prime Minister, Orthodox; Speaker of Parliament, Shi'i). Abu Mazen shakes his head at this, and blame the French. "You know Lebanon used to be part of Syria. They divided us to make us weak. United we are stronger."

My New House

It have not yet been a week in my new house, so it's still growing on me. It's $10 more a month than my old place in the old city, but meals are provided. This has actually turned out to be a double-edged sword, as Um Mazen, the matriarch, has decided her goal is to fatten me. She saw me taking vitamin pills, questioned their purpose. I said, oh, it's just cause I have anemia (yes! I totally know that word!). She shook her head and said I just need to eat more. Now, every mealtime, she watches me eat, always pushing more onto me. I know this is part of Syrian culture to stuff the guest, but I think she takes it to the extreme. And the look of concern on her face also makes me think there is something more than simple hospitality.

The residents of the house are currently myself, Um Mazen, Abu Mazen, and their son Iyad. They have other sons and daughters, but they all live either in Lattakia or Britain. One of their kids got Irish nationality. I said, oh, that's funny, I do too. Not too long after they were talking about their other son, the one who's room I'm in, and how he'll be finished studying soon but wants to stay in Britain.
"Is he going to get a working visa?"
"It would be easier just to marry."
"Is he engaged to a British girl?"
"It's all the same now with the EU. Any European."
"Uh-huh."
"It wouldn't have to be a real marriage. Just on paper."
"Well, maybe he'll find a British girl."

The family's nice, except Abu Mazen has an annoying habit of talking to me like I don't know anything. There were neighbors over, and they were asking me about American politics, so I was explaining how Bush "won" in 2000, why he won in 2004, and we talked about the future election (everyone here loves Hilary). Then the conversation changed to the merits of different types of exercise. I think swimming is the best, the neighbors thought walking. At this point Abu mazen breaks in to say, "Walk-ing" and mimes walking with his hands, and says the English word. "Swim-ming" miming that action as well, though he doesn't know the English word. Everyone just kind of looks at him, because it's obvious that I knew those two words, since I had been using them in normal conversation for a good several minutes. I'm not fluent, but shit, I can get around fine in Arabic. In the morning sometimes he'll point at the various foods on the table and slowly say their names for me. Dude, you hear me speaking to you right? I know the words for cheese and bread!

The house has a hole-in-the-ground toilet, which I don't have a problem with, but I am beginning to appreciate the luxury of a western toilet. It also has no hot shower, which requires me to heat tubs of water with gas and dump them over myself. They promise they'll hook up the gas a water heater and the shower soon.

Karachi

So, what was Karachi like? In the middle of the emergency laws, no less. I have 299 pictures of Karachi, including two arial shots, but sadly my computer decided to die. Hopefully a resurrection will occur, but in the meantime I'll have to rely on my powers of description:

Um, Karachi was like, um, cool, and stuff. The frantic reporters on the news (at least that was the situation on al-Jazeera before I left) must have been stationed in Islamabad or Lahore, because I really didn't see anything. On a typical day in Cairo there are far more security forces and police on the streets than I saw in Karachi. Granted, I was mostly in an area called Defense, where the walls are high, with guards at the gates and generators to guard against failures in city power.

The days after the wedding I did get to go visit a shrine, the burial place of a sufi saint who is revered by both Sunnis and Shi'is. They were way more chill than in Arab world: no one even asked me to cover my hair. I also went to a market, where I bought some earrings for myself and little gifts for the family I have now left. I still want to be invited for Friday morning fatour, after all. I also visited a huge public park, which was gorgeous and clean.

Karachi is hot. This was nice, since Syria was cooling when I left, and has been winter ever since I got back. I am cold.

Karachi is colorful. The fabrics are amazing. I have never seen such an array of colors as I saw at the shrine and especially at the wedding. Very, very cool.

Karachi may be dangerous. The last night, the idea of walking 300-ish meters to the Crepe Factory in Defense was nixed as too dangerous. So we piled into two cars and drove. Some people I met there also carry around a "stealing phone", so that if robbed, they can hand over a phone without giving up their real phone and losing all their numbers.

In other words, I have to visit again, possibly even leave Defense or even Karachi. They say Islamabad has beautiful mountains. I have already been invited to a wedding in July!