February 8, 2005

Language stuff


Ma ba3rif
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.


So the other day I was talking in Arabic to the maintenance guy in front of my 7th graders. Afterwards one of them said, "Miss, you speak like an Egyptian trying to talk Lebanese."

I studied Arabic for one year at Harvard ten years ago. I learned the formal written language, fusHa, with some Egyptian colloquial. The rationale being that most of the media in the Arab world comes out of Cairo. Then about five years after that, I took private lessons with an Egyptian woman in her home. It was about two times a week off and on for about two years. I would go after a long day of teaching high school, and would generally fall asleep as she talked to me too fast in Arabic. I wasn't understanding, and it was too much for my tired brain.

I always thought she was so mean because she would make this "tsk" noise when I got something wrong. Now that I'm here in Lebanon, I realize this is how people say "No." Apparently, they do the same thing in Greece.

Much of the language is body langugage. Not only do you have "tsk," with the chin pointing up to mean "No." You have a slight head rattle from side to side to signify "What? I didn't get you." That can also be accompanied by a twist of an open hand at around chin level. Then there's the big pout meaning "I don't know." I show both at the same time in this lovely picture. Okay, maybe the Lebanese don't do it as exaggerated as I do here.

To say "I want" and "I need" is the same word. (I think there's a profound spiritual significance to this.) To say "I like" and "I love" is the same word. It's like that in French, too.

There are a million terms of affection--Habibee (my beloved), Albee (my heart), Hayatee (my life), Omree (my age). These are used between lovers, friends, and shop owners and customers. So it doesn't really mean anything, unless you want it to.

And then there's "Haram." For those who have studied Islam, you might recognize Haram as prohibited, the opposite of Halal, permitted, like Kosher in Hebrew. But in Lebanon it means "poor thing," like "Pobrecito" in Spanish. Except they use it a lot more here than in the Americas. It seems that in every conversation there is some object of pity. "Oh, she came down with a horrible flu this weekend. . . Haram." The intonation of the voice goes down with the second syllable, making it sound very sappy. In a way, people come off caring and sensitive when they say it, but then as my Canadian friend says, there always seems to be a Haram situation. So that after a while, it seems people say it even when things are really, really ugly like war or imprisonment or a baby dying, and then Haram comes off as trite and even foolish. (Or maybe that's just us non-Lebanese using it all wrong.)

I say it all the time now.

But my favorite use of "haram" is when I'm the subject of the sentence. "Haram, Jane, she has to go back to her lonely apartment by herself." "Haram, Jane, she has to take the bus into Beirut by herself." I, of course, don't really think of myself as a Haram Situation. But here in Lebanon, doing things by yourself and living by yourself are pitiable conditions. Most especially if you're female.

And then there's Sorry, which is what you say when you bump into someone and to mean "excuse me". Like to get a waiter's attention, "Sorry." I hate feeling like I'm apologizing all the time.

In general it seems that there are about 5 ways to say the same thing. This is one reason that Arabic is really hard to learn. Along with the fact that almost all study materials are in either FusHa or Egyptian. We've found only one dictionary that has a majority of words that are Lebanese and one good website.

Bliss Street by Kris Kenway

It's a novel that came out a little more than a year ago about life in Lebanon. When I first started reading it, it was making me mad. Like the British guy was making Lebanon to be so brutish and freakish and crazy. But then after a while, I was like--Geez, I know about everything that he's talking about. And it really is kind of like this.

Read it. I'd be interested to hear what y'all think.

After posting this, Becky got back to me and said that she couldn't find it on Amazon. But I went to his website, www.kriskenway.com, and found a link to the UK Amazon site, where you can get new and used copies for between 2 and 7 pounds.

Welcome to Lebanon


Black clouds pressing on Beirut
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.


Probably the most sarcastic phrase ever evented. Whenever something jacked up happens, the people explain it and then end the explanation, with a smile and "Welcome to Lebanon."

For example, when I bought a callback card and the company told me they issued a new one and I'd have to go back to the place where I bought it to exchange it, I went and of course the people there didn't know anything about it. A dude in the store who spoke English, just kind of smiled at my muddling through my attempt to get the right card. He was like "Callback is illegal in Lebanon. You're not going to see your money. . .Welcome to Lebanon."

And then there's the whole no lights/no electricity thing. The lights go out all the time. Nobody flinches. I've learned to carry around a flashlight with me at all times. (Always have wallet, keys, phone, flashlight.) The people here say this is normal. They lived through a war. They always had there flashlights. I just live in a place where the second biggest generator in the country broke because they kept putting off reparing a leaky ceiling. Every other night in Aley at 6 p.m. the power goes out. But that's okay because Aley was a hotzone during the war, and everyone has a generator. . . Welcome to Lebanon.

And then of course is the crazy weather. Snow, clear, sleet, clear, hail, clear. The way you say winter in Arabic is shitty. (It's a similar word for rain, too. Or maybe I'm just confused. . . This happens a lot.) It's a fun English pun. "Winter here is shitty. Welcome to Lebanon."

It's snowing in Aley right now. So I'm stuck in my apartment blogging. I could risk my life and go down to Beirut. But the Damascus Highway is very dangerous even when weather conditions aren't crazy. Dilek is under four feet of snow in Bcharre. The weight of it knocked down a grape orchard and somehow knocked out the electricity. . .Welcome to Lebanon!!

Istanbul


Stoplight in Istanbul
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.


Over Eid al-Adha, signifiying the end of the Hajj pilgrimage for Muslims, and the highest religious holiday for the Druze, I went to visit Dilek in Istanbul. She's living with her grandmother on the Asian side. In four days, we did tons of tourist stuff--saw great mosques, the Roman cisterns (totally way cool), and went to a Turkish bath!!! As she was getting scrubbed down, the half-naked Turkish lady told Dilek she was really dirty. I don't know if I was too, because I don't speak Turkish.

As you can see from the pictures www.homepage.mac.com/janerubio/PhotoAlbum24.html, Istanbul is very developed. I chose this picture because it has a street light indicating there are 18 seconds left to cross the street. I realized I hadn't seen one of those in a long time. I don't think there are any traffic signals anywhere in Lebanon. I haven't seen any. And the cars are all new and modern. Not like the 50 year old Mercedes in Lebanon. But there was one shell of a car that I took a picture of.

Before I showed them the pictures, the kids said they thought Turkey would be like Syria--poor and crappy. So they were very surprised to see all the nice, European cars and real bus stops with benches and glass coverings and a map.

I also took pictures of toilets. (You might have noticed this as a running theme in my travel photography.) Considering Turkey is practically Europe in terms of level of development, I was shocked to see an Indian-style toilet on the ferry--grates, water bucket and all. But later on, I saw a very sophisticated toilet with arm rests. . .Wow!

When I showed my students the pictures (we just happened to be studying Turkey in Geography class), they freaked out when they saw me covered in front of the mosque. And then they told me I didn't even do it right because they could see my hair.

Turks eat a lot of simit. It's a sesame pretzel-like bread. They sell it everywhere for the equivalent of about 30 cents. It's way yum. The food in Turkey is cheap and good. We crossed big suspension bridges by foot and dolmosh (a shared van) and took a lot of ferries across the Bosporous.

New Year's in New York


Christine & I in Little Italy
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.

New York is cool because there are single people there. I went out to dinner with three other people my age, 28, and we were all single--2 guys and 2 girls. And after dinner, we went to Chris's place and played X-box. That was cool even though I am physically and mentally incapable of playing video games. It's some sort of hand-eye coordination, spatial reasoning malfunction. But after being the only single person among married couples for the past two weeks and finding out that EVERYONE is pregnant, I was happy to be there.

Katy establishments


Mo's in Katy
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.


Mo's is a bar in Katy. Notice the pick up trucks and motorcycles out front. It is right next to my gym. The people inside all wear cowboy boots and kicker style pants and shirts. They two step on the dance floor.

Mo is short for Muhammad. I think this is funny. Maybe this is a crazy rumor. Would the kickers go somewhere they knew was owned by an A-rab?

It's kind of like how the Kettle, the open 24 hour truck stop that we used to hang out in high school, became a Taqueria Arandas. This is symbolic of my life.

Growing up in Katy, which was predominantly white, I somehow managed to have a bunch of Asian friends. Denise and Linda-Taiwanese; Christie-Vietnamese; Christina-Chinese, Shilpen and Ilyas-Indian, Shari-Iraqi. Somehow these kids were always my friends. But like the whole Mo's thing, I didn't really realize they weren't white like me.

But then I didn't know what I was until I came back from college and started teaching in the "neighborhood." Not Katy, but Southeast Houston. There all the kids were Latino, mostly Mexican. And I was just a source of confusion. "That Miss is Mexican, too." Because I spoke Spanish (not so great) and my dad is Venezuelan/Colombian.

But it was the first time I started to appreciate Mexican food and places like Taqueria Arandas.

For such a hick place, I can find any body, any food, and any language I want in Houston. Even more than in Boston. You just can't get Tex-Mex there.

Hey, Mo's has a website. Troy sent me the link. It's http://www.mosplacekaty.com/index.html. You can see Mo!!