Christmas shopping in Arabia

Last week My Man and I hit Al-Ballad for some haram-athon Christmas shopping (haram=forbidden). It's hard enough trying to find Christmas presents when you have a Target Superstore in your city. Trying to find them in the maze that is Old Town, where almost nobody speaks English, and very few vendors sell things like souvenirs (who goes to Saudi for tourism?), is, well, saab...difficult.

We hit up the shoe block, where about a dozen vendors had piled mountains of shoes atop kitchen table-sized booths. We wanted some Saudi sandals for our relatives back in the States, but we honesty had no idea what a fair price would be. So we started off at a disadvantage. We stopped at one shoe place and My Man started haggling over a couple pairs, and I wandered off to keep looking. My Man usually takes a while to haggle because his Arabic doesn't extend much farther than "hello" and "thank you." Also, he hates overpaying.

I was wearing a head covering, as I always do in Jeddah. I get a little less staring and I feel a little less like a stranger. Girls at the university have told me I tie my scarf "like a professional." It's quite a trick getting the thing tight without pins or knots. With my light skin and green eyes, I always hope I can pass for Jordanian.

I walked around for a while, finally ending up on the other side of the same booth where My Man was still bartering with Salesman #1. The shoes were heaped up so high, you couldn't see over them to the other side. Picking up a pair of Pakistani sandals, I asked Salesman #2 "How much are these?" in a Jordanian accent.

"Theletheen," he said. (Thirty.)

Then Salesman #1 spotted me. He knows I'm an American; he saw me with my husband earlier. (My Man is blond and blue-eyed and speaking English. It isn't hard to pick him out.)

"La, la, la," he called to Salesman #2. "Guleha khamsteen!"

There's only problem with Salesman #1's tactic: I understood him. He said, "No, no, no. Tell her fifty!"

I looked at Salesman #2, my eyes twinkling, one eyebrow cocked.

"Okay," I said. "Kem haatha? Theletheen o khamsteen?" (How much is it? 30 or 50?)

Salesman #2 hesitated, glancing sideways at his superior.

"Ana aarif al-Arabeeya," I said. "Bes ana kelem shuay. Kelem saab." (I know Arabic, but I speak only a little. Speaking is difficult.)

Salesman #2 started laughing.

"It's one price if you speak Arabic," he said in Arabic. "And another if you speak English."

I know this probably isn't talking-with-a-strange-Arab-man-in-Saudi-Arabia-appropriate, but I busted up laughing out loud. I just couldn't help it. For the first time ever, I finally knew something that this native speaker didn't: that I understood some Arabic. For the first time ever, I wasn't about to pay the price for my lack of education.

Then I caught the amused eye of Salesman #2, and he also started to laugh. We slapped our knees and bent at the waist. In a country where it always seems like humor is always haram, he and I giggled for a long, long minute.

I paid 20 for the sandals.

We're the ones with "American" stamped on our foreheads

The more you spend time with people who are from Saudi Arabia, Kenya and China, the more easily you can pick out the Americans on campus. Lemme tell you how to find them:

Step 1: Find the white people who are all clumped together in a tight circle, using a lot of American slang and innuendo (inyourendo!) It's not that they're trying to be clique-ish, it's just that no one else understands what they're saying. As a result, Americans tend to think no one likes them, everyone hates them, and they might as well eat worms. Or they could just do what their mamas told them every time they stuck a bar of Ivory between their teeth: "Watch your mouth, mister!"

Step 2: Find the people with holding the petitions. Petitioning is a long-established American tradition. We were even petitioning things before we started the other long-standing American traditions of voting and getting all mixed up in 10-year wars for no discernable reason. Here in the land of the not-so free and perhaps too brave, we petition things like: Whether students should be invited to the King's big ole party out on the island or Whether we have a right to co-ed salsa classes. Yes, even here we continue to strive to ensure domestic tranquility and sexy Latin dancing.

Step 3: Skim the crowd. It's a proven scientific fact that, without trying, your eye should stop on the Americans, because your eye will automatically hesitate when it recognizes the female form. You won't see that under an abaya.

Step 4: Find the people who are on time to things, weed out the Chinese, and you'll have only Americans left.

Step 5: Find the people who think that bureaucracy is just a matter of organizing a committee, which will indeed be able to make its voice heard over the roar of about a thousand disgruntled-about-something others. When you find the "Green Group," which spends time meeting together to discuss plans to bring organic garlic to campus, you have succeeded in your quest to find Americans. Everyone else is out there meeting influential people, rather than each other, because they know that if they want to get something done, it's all up to "who you know." They have a word for "it's all about who you know" here, it's called "Wasta." Americans usually pronounce it "Whatsthat?"

ESL

I think I nearly forgot how much I enjoy teaching. But a few of the students here (particularly the Chinese students) have been asking me for help with their English. It would be a real shame, I feel, not to use some of my abundant free time helping out with other people's felt needs. M. has decided to join me in the ESL venture, and today we had our first class.

Almost all my background in teaching ESL has been with beginners. I've taught Spanish-speaking adults and children who know absolutely no English. I've taught Arabic-speaking students who are just beginning to form their own sentences in English. I've taught a Cambodian refugee who knows no English at all. The only exception is the six months I spent volunteering with university students who needed help editing their papers.

Today M. and I met with three Chinese students who need help with their conversational skills. When it comes to reading and writing, they are so diligent that they just work and work on it until they understand. But they have real difficulty understanding their professors in class. And sometimes they also have real difficulty expressing themselves.

Since I don't have any experience AT ALL with the Chinese language, I'm unsure what the trouble spots will be. I don't know which phonemes (basic sound units) they don't have in their language. I don't understand the differences in grammatical structure. I don't know the students' skill levels. All I know is that I want to help.

Today went pretty well! Lesson one was on the topic of "studying." M. taught slang like "hit the books," "let's get the ball rolling," and "slacker." I read paragraphs aloud, explained vocabulary, and asked comprehension and discussion questions. I also tried to pick out the problems each student has with pronunciation. There is one student who is very hard to understand, so it's difficult to isolate problems. I did notice he has a problem with "t" as well as "th."

I'm really looking forward to planning future lessons. It looks like we'll be meeting weekly for about 90 minutes. I know some other students were also looking for help, but they are on vacation this week. It's possible that we could eventually have two classes per week. I am so excited to actually be able to serve people in some tangible way!

Two Lists

A guy I really respect recently posted on his blog two lists: 1) Things that stir his affection for God, his family, and life in general and 2) Things that actually take him away from those things. I decided to make similar lists on this blog. I'd love to hear other people's lists, too.

List One: Things that stir my affection for God, Marc, and life in general

(in no particular order)

1. Praying with Marc before we go to sleep

2. Working out and eating healthy

3. Talking to my close friends, who are currently scattered in many places

4. Making new friends, particularly with people who seem to be on the fringes

5. Music of many kinds. Singing.

6. Listening to people teach online

7. Reading God's word by myself or with other people

8. Writing

List Two: Things that take my energy away from love for God, Marc, and life

1. Spending too much time online

2. Spending too much time sleeping

3. Refusing to branch out and take risks in new relationships

4. Complaining and being around people who are complaining

5. Not getting enough alone time to recharge (I break down pretty fast if I don't have time by myself)

I'm sure I could think of more things to add to both lists, but this is my first draft. :)

The idea behind this: This is arguably the most free time I've ever had. I get to decide to do with each day, which is an enormous gift and responsibility. I want to be aware of these two lists so I can spend my time doing the first, and try to avoid the second.

Sitting on the Chinese bus

Introducing yourself here is one of the hardest things I do on a regular basis. Here's a snippet of conversation from yesterday:

Me: "Hi, what's your name?"

Chinese girl: "Lipaoxuanling." (or something similar)

Me: "What?"

Her: "Just call me Ling. What's your name?"

Me: "Beth."

Her: "What?"

Me: "Just call me Bess."

Lonesome women

Earth flows away from the shore where I stand,

her trees and grasses, more and more distant, shine.

Buds of chestnuts, lights of frail birches,

I won't see you anymore...

I am afraid to stay here alone

--Czeslaw Milosz

It seems like a thousand years since we lived in a world where everything is green. I already miss the mountains, the smell of pine, wildflowers growing next to my path. In this country, everything is monochromatic: the landscape the color of dust, the people specks of black and white. 

A couple of days ago, we went to the doctor's office. Apparently, they needed more blood samples and yet another chest x-ray before we got our residential visas. We sat in the waiting room watching TV in Arabic; I lamented the fact that I didn't bring a book. M. was called in before me, and when he left, I spotted a woman sitting in the back row, alone, completely covered. Something in me wanted to go meet her, completely spontaneously, which isn't like me too much. I have to confess here that for an American woman, meeting a super-conservative Arab woman can be slightly intimidating. When you can't see someone's face, you can't tell how they are reacting to you. Do they want to meet you? Do they just want you to go away and leave them alone? But I have decided to take a new tack: I smile at every covered woman I see. And in doing so, I've learned that sometimes, you can see them smiling back with their eyes only. 

In any case, I got up and took a seat next to her.

"Hi," I said, "I'm B."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't speak English."

"Oh. Um, salaam-aleikum. Ana B., schu ismaak?" (Hello, I'm B. What's your name?)

"Ana Ahlaam." (I'm Ahlaam)

With my extremely, horrible, tragically bad Arabic, I asked her if she would be interested in learning English. Her eyes absolutely lit up. I told her I wanted to learn Arabic, and maybe we could help each other. (Actually, I think I said something like, 'you want speak English?... I want speak Arabic. Maybe come to my house. I speak English, you speak Arabic. And I speak Arabic and you speak English.) Then the dr. called me in, and I left the room.

When I came back out, I didn't see her. Problem: How do you recognize the woman you met? I never thought about this before. Without seeing her face, I cannot tell her from the next woman. But alhamdulillah (thanks to God), M. saw her husband. The next day, he happened to see him on a guys' trip, and they both called their wives to see if they wanted to meet. I ended up spending the afternoon with Ahlaam, whose English is actually a lot better than she initially let on. We spent about 2 hours with actual language lessons; then we spent the next 3 hours talking, laughing, and laughing some more. I haven't immediately clicked with someone so well in years. 

She and I both feel really happy to have met. Ahlaam spends most of her time in her hotel room, either alone or with her husband. (When I asked her to come have dinner with me in the hotel restaurant, she said she couldn't because she promised her husband.) She hadn't been out to meet anyone, and so I suspect she was pretty lonely. After our short discussion in the dr.'s office, she told her husband, "I'm so happy! I have a friend!"

Since we are meeting so many people so quickly, it's been interesting to try to decide where we will spend our time and who we will pursue as friends. More and more, my heart has wanted to reach out to the wives of students, who may really be suffering from loneliness.

It's amazing that I was even able to meet Ahlaam. I am looking forward to a good friendship with her.