Stories from Amman

“What are you young women doing here?” with a very interested tone. We were astonished at first, but then he explained himself saying that Amman has changed since he first got there and that it’s been a long time since he’d seen people exploring the place with such passion and desire to know. We were interested in him for he said “since I got here”.

   After having a very long conversation about him working in the military first after it got its Arab leadership we got to know that he was Armenian; we were so shocked to know that, with his clothing and all. He started talking about how when he first arrived at Amman people were so into each other and into social relations and it was a challenge for him to blend in as an Armenian, but how he later got to know that the Ammani social structure was very different and open. He told us that every day, he goes down the same staircase to buy his newspapers then goes up to sit by his house’s door and read them until lunch-time. I still remember his name: Anaward Freij Karabidian.

  He really touched me as he was very concerned about the place, his home, my home, Amman. It was a very eye-opening conversation on how the old ammanis recall and compare and recall and compare and find it hard to enjoy the new modern Amman with all its new sophistications rather than the old simplistic ammani setting and life.

  Abboud's Rainbow

  Every day I walk through Rainbow Street from the Bishop's school, which is where I study, to the Ahliyyah School, where my mother teaches. Once when  I was in 2nd grade and while I was on this daily journey, I was confronted by two boys and they were older than me. I had a bag in my hand which had my food in it. They tried to take it from me and they hit me with a stick so I ran away. So I felt scared of walking in the streets alone and I refused to walk to my mom's school for one whole year. When I remember that, I think of how contrasting the people who live in one place are. I don't blame the boys for wanting to take my food, but I do wonder why people bully each other. If they asked me, I would have given it to them.

  “****”

  Amman Story: 'Four Voices' - J.B. Lawrence, Aseel and Yasmeen

  Jessamy

  “Will I regret this?” I cannot seem to shake off that thought ... I have been going through my to-do list a hundred times. I have to get busy. I need to. Will I regret this? I cannot think about it now. I cannot afford it.

  I’ve been extensively reading about Jordan and what to expect there. I look forward to meeting Omar’s family, trying out hearty Lebanese food, kunafeh and of course the endless cups of sweet tea that Omar keeps telling me about. “Tea is central to the culture,” he says. “It’s an expression of solidarity and comradeship,” he says.  “Everything can be resolved over a cup of tea.”

  I still recall the details of the night I first met him, at that house warming party my friend forced me to go to. There was something about how proudly he held himself, his solemn smirk and the fact that he did not care to mingle or fit in that just drew me in.

  Being part of that region, that struggle, has been something I wanted to do for a very long. Middle East, the Arab World, the pre-dominantly Muslim society, I do not care what people call it. All I know is that I’ve always felt I could relate to it and I just love Arabic. It is the idea of leaving everything behind for one person, one thing that terrifies me. I just love him too much to let go, and I believe that love is enough. I have to at this point, I just have to.

  Omar

  It’s been eight long years since I’ve seen my mother’s face. Of course we have Skype and I’ve got that framed picture of her that we took from the rahleh that spring in Fuheis. That was a day imprinted in my memory. She brought a pot of maklubeh with a blanket spread out on the field. We ate with the goats that day, the shepherdess leading them from one spot to another. Mama was so worried they would join our dinner and we were all laughing about having them for dinner in another way.

  That was the last time we had a rahleh before I left for America. I was accepted with scholarship to study pre-med. My tawjihi scores were good enough to study here and maybe I should have. Maybe I should have stayed home with Mama, to be the man of the house. I wanted to see the world and that came before anything. I wanted to get an education she would be proud of. Maybe she would come and stay with me here. She didn’t want any of that. She had sittee and jiddo to consider.

  I didn’t expect to come back this soon but Maha was causing problems and now I am forced to return to keep the family intact. I’m glad to know we got Maha back from Canada. Things were not going in the right direction for her. If she would just accept her fate, I wouldn’t have to worry about her.

  And now here I am. Married. Not exactly how I had planned it, but how could I leave Jessamy behind. She was with me at my side for all my years in med school. Here we are sitting on the plane next to each other. She’s sleeping peacefully, while I’m trying to figure out how she actually got this far. I truly thought we’d say our goodbyes as she had accepted an internship in Egypt. I asked her to marry me not thinking she would accept. She is so career minded and I love that about her. Yet it’s the same thing I find maddening about Maha.

  Maha thinks she is so Western. She thinks it’s okay for her to have friends. Who knows? Maybe she even has a boyfriend. Now that we will all be living under one roof, things will be better. She will remember where she came from and act accordingly. I’ll have to see about getting together with some old friends to see who is ready to get married. And I’ll even get to approve the groom.

  Let me check my watch and get it changed to Jordan time. Two more hours over this ocean and I’ll be landing. The family will be waiting for us and after we get home, I’ll have a platter of wara dawali waiting for me. No one makes wara like my mother.

  Nora

  I am so angry. Today I have to go to the airport to meet my brother and his new wife. I don’t know what I’m going to do but it’s okay. It’s nothing more than driving the car to and from the airport. I don’t even have to talk to him.

  Mama told me that we have to go, so I took my keys and went out to the car. She told me that I’m late, but I didn’t bother to answer. I just turned on the radio and drove the car to the airport. When we arrived, we found Omar and Jessamy waiting. I wasn’t so happy to see them both. So I just told them that the car is ready and we have to go.

  In my mind I believe that Omar has taken a lot from me. I have to go to that party tonight whether he likes it or not.

  Maha

  It’s good that he’s home. I need to keep reminding myself this. I’ve lived patiently all these years for my children to grow up and we’ll work through these problems. Yes, it’s true Nora  is stubborn, but that is one of her best qualities. She is still reasonable. Once she finds the one to love her and appreciate her she’ll drop all these radical views of marriage and family. It’s just talk. That’s all it is. And as for Omar, it’s good that he’s settled down. I hope she is what he needs. It puzzles me that he can’t be as open minded about his sister as he is about his choice of wife. It worries me that Nora’s resentment will only grow. I’m getting older. I’m tired. I want to be taken care of. I can’t be the one to buffer their problems. I only hope they can work this out and sooner rather than too late.

  I was quite settled in my life. I enjoyed talking with them on Skype, watching Nora grow into that confident woman I knew she would be. And Omar has his own life to live as well. I spent my days doing things as I pleased. Keeping myself moving through my daily household routine, visiting my sisters, caring for my aging parents. I’m truly glad my children are returning, but I have to ask myself, what is my new role in this family? It seems Omar is all too eager to take over as head of the house.

  I try to make small talk with Jessamy. She is pretty and seems confident. Her Arabic is not bad! That by itself could make this relationship work.

  Jessamy

  I was so thrilled to meet Omar’s mother. She’s everything you want a Middle Eastern mother to be. Warm, caring, devoted to her children. I don’t know if I can ever be like th
at. I don’t have it in me. And I hope Omar doesn’t expect that. Whenever I ask her about herself, she talks about her children. I look forward to understanding who she is and how she has managed to live by herself all these years. I think we can become friends.

  Nora, on the other hand, seems to be wary of my existence. She has spoken a lot and quite frankly doesn’t seem that curious. She looks like a smart, independent, reasonable person. I’m sure I’ll get around this. I’ll figure out a way to get her okay with us. I just hope Omar doesn’t feel compelled to control or force my relationship with these people  and just let it flow, which he fails to do often.

  Omar

  What is the deal with Nora? Ever since we got in the car, she is not herself. She won’t talk to anyone in more than one word answers. If her shoulders were any colder, I’d have to turn on the heat next to her. I should be happy to see her, but at this rate I’ll be happy to be rid of her. A wedding could not come soon enough. I hope she knocks it off soon, I want Jessamy to feel accepted. At the same time I don’t want her feeling that she has to offer the solutions. These problems have been around longer than she has, and frankly her solution wouldn’t work in this environment.

  Reminder to self: get Jessamy to cover up. Those bare