Southern Hospitality

In the past weeks, we have been following a strict schedule of two (and sometimes three) daily interviews. In addition to body of research we have been collecting, we have also had many opportunities to build relationships with Jordanian scholars and journalists, American foreign service officers, and Iraqi refugees. These interactions have been absolutely incredible ways for me to enrich my understanding of the Middle East.

A researcher at the Center for Strategic Studies at the University of Jordan, Dr. Hassan Barari, has taken the political reform group under his mentorship. We have spent a few evenings talking and watching the European Cup under a thick haze of hookah smoke with Dr. Barari and his friend Sami Zubaidy, a journalist for Jordan’s principal daily, Al Rai (The Opinion).

The entire JRP has befriended Katie Schaefer, a Presidential Management Fellow fulfilling part of this two-year fellowship by interning at the US Embassy in Jordan. She accompanied us on our trip to the Dead Sea, and we have also gone out to watch soccer together. Last week, we hosted both Katie and Benjamin Ball, the Embassy’s political officer, came to dinner at our apartment. We had a really great discussion about careers in the foreign service, the changes the service demands of one’s life, and what kind of individual contribution one can make while in the service.

On Thursday, I became an honorary member of the refugee group. We went to see a play put on by refugees and sponsored by CARE International, and later had a traditional, exquisite dinner at the home of an Iraqi family. This was a purely social affair; Nancy, Tim, Alex B and Piyali had met and interviewed the widowed mother of four earlier in the week. The food was amazing and there was far too much of it; the stuffed eggplant was my favorite. I also enjoyed the company of their 8-year-old daughter. We “played” monopoly (i.e. just counted the money) and drew pictures, taking turns to write captions in Arabic and English.

After the meal, I was told the full details of what has tragically become this family’s history. It remains beyond my abilities to comprehend the magnitude of the calamity that has been inflicted upon a woman of my same generation. To extol her fortitude in words here would be grievously inadequate.

This weekend we traveled south to visit the Kingdom’s main tourist attractions on our last full weekend together as group in Jordan. Sally had a friend who visited West Point through an exchange program last year, and the Salameen family truly opened their arms, home and hearts to us. Friday the brothers Abdullah, Mohammed and Mahdi escorted us through the Nabatean ruins of Petra (a must see by all accounts), treated us to an amazing sunset view, and finally brought us to their homes where their mother and sisters had prepared mensaf (a traditional Jordanian dish of meat of rice with a yogurt-based gravy) for us for dinner. Men and women ate in separate rooms, and despite the fact we had all woken up at 5:30am to catch our bus, we lingered for four cups of tea, fruit, and dried yogurt.

Saturday we had a chance to sleep in, and by 9:30 we were on the road even farther south to Wadi Rum. Wadi Rum was the spiritual, political, and actual habitat of T.E. Lawrence, and we were not at all surprised that such a majestic landscape had spawned such drama. Giant rock mountains, both craggy and smooth, rose startlingly out of gentle sand dunes. We climbed them. Towering natural bridges connected their peaks at incredible altitudes. We climbed these too, and danced upon them. The dunes themselves sometimes spanned an area of 20 or more football fields. We hung out the windows of our Jeeps, hollering as we careened across them.

At the end of the day we watched another spectacular sunset, and then headed back to Petra. On the way, we pulled off the side of the road to look up at the stars. Far away from any sort of human settlement that could be realistically called a city, it was actually possible to see the haze of the galaxy.

This morning, our final workweek began with a visit to Hussein bin Talal University in Ma’an, but we said a fond farewell to the Salameen family before boarding our bus once again. After a short visit, a glass of Tang and two cups of tea, the Salameen gave each of us a Petra key chain and a string of prayer beads. The girls additionally got a scarf and a tutorial in hijab. Although at our previous dinner, the “language issue” had again prevented us from communicating anything more profound than the origins of our first names, Mama and daughters Salameen had clearly picked out a scarf for each of us individually. In our own estimation, their choices were impeccable: we all agreed we looked fantastic.

I was very reluctant to leave Petra, and the profound beauty and hospitality we had witnessed there. Yet it also gave me some small thrill to return to our apartment in Amman, and call it “home”. It is completely fair to say that I am obsessed with Jordan.