Visits

People always say "Come to my house." But then don't give a real invitation, like with a date and time. So then they get mad when you haven't just shown up at their house. "Where have you been? We're waiting for you." But this is all hard. I have never just shown up at a person's house. I wait for a real invitation. And then once you're there, they want you to stay, like for a very long time, and spend the night.

No one insists that you spend the night in the U.S. For most people, that's a pain in the ass. But here it's normal and expected. Maybe because it's the mountain, it's harder to move around. And people don't want to be moving around after dark--Who knows?

This has been a very different part of the culture that has been hard to navigate. I love the fact that people always want me over. It's like WHY I came to the Middle East in the first place. But then after a while, it becomes a pain because I actually have a lot of stuff to do and can't piss my whole day away.

Sometimes I literally don't leave my house because I know I'll see the neighbors and they'll invite me over. And when I walk through the souk, I have to zigzag back and forth--to say hi to some people and avoid others. My whole Aley world is a big zigzag, maybe deliberate visits, deliberately avoiding others.

The Life Cycle Here

is honored. Things like births, deaths, and weddings. I live in a village in the mountains. In the village, people honor these life passages. In fact, life is about these life passages. It's not about work so much. In the U.S., no one pays attention to these things. If they were close to the person, they might go to the funeral. But rarely do people even write cards. What do they do if someone has a baby or got married, but isn't around to attend the baby shower or ceremony? Most likely nothing. People in the U.S. don't go to out of their way.

But here everything is celebrated. And there are procedures. Also, in Arabic there are certain things you say. We don't really have this in English. At the weddings, they tell me "Ahbalik" which means something like, You'll be next to get married. And when you see the new baby, you say "Mabruk" and then you have to say "Smalla" (in the name of God) a lot so that you don't give it the Evil Eye. The baby will have little trinkets and such to guard against it. And there are all kinds of things you say at funerals, like "God give you back what you lost." "God have mercy on him." What do we say in English? "Sorry". . . That's so lame.

In certain situations, there's like an exchange. But a lot of this is formal and village-y Arabic. My friends say they don't know what to say, or the proper response. But my buddy, Rola, is really good at it. She knows exactly what to say and can keep up with any of the old ladies.

When the baby is born, you're supposed to go visit the house, with some sort of gift. And the mom's mom is most likely with her daughter, and she is in charge of the meghli, a yummy dessert that you eat when you visit a new mom. And then she'll always have some chocolates and sweets to give as a parting gift. The new mom isn't supposed to leave her house for 40 days. . . .40 days!!!!! I asked a pregnant friend if she's going to do that, and she's like, No way. But the old people really insist on it. Some attribute their health problems to not being especially careful during that time.

For funerals, you visit the house and then you go to the funeral. And then you can keep visiting. I have been to three visitations and a funeral.

I went to three weddings this summer.

These visitations can be like full day affairs, or at least half day affairs. And for the sheikhas of the village, you get the feeling that they're there all the time. Like this is how they spend their time--going from wedding to funeral to visiting.

The Teacher's Dinner Party

The school hosted a dinner party at a restaurant in Beirut for Teacher Appreciation Day.

So I got dressed up.

I put that thing on my head. When I was showing one of my friends in the souq earlier that day what I was going to be wearing, he was like, "Don't wear that. You'll look stupid."

And he told my friend, another teacher, who was with me, "Don't let her wear that."

But she was like, "What can I do?"

And so of course, I wore it, and of course it was a big hit.

Here's Neda and I dancing, with the singer and band behind us.

On the bus with the kids

After our stunning victory at the basketball game.

You see me there in the back. . .How did I get stuck back there?

The other Social Studies teacher and his fiance are in the front.

Lebanese kids always have to turn up the music really loud, and when it's Arabic they start all clapping and singing and standing up and dancing.

Maybe because Bassem and Hoda are so calm at the front, you don't get a sense for how loud it is.

At Hariri's final resting place

At Hariri's final resting place
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.

This is where you go downtown to pay homage to Rafik Al-Hariri. In this picture, it actually looks cleaned up. Before, there were tons of candles--Christian and Muslim. Outside the tent, it says the number of days it's been since the assassination. About 400-something.

We didn't have school February 14, the one year anniversary of his death. And I didn't go down to Beirut. I figured I had too much to do and it would take all day coming back up the mountain. (Like it did when I went down last March 14). But actually, the people went down and came back in about 3 hours-- and Walid Beik gave a riveting speech, which I only saw on television.

Me and the kids

Me and the kids
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.

I went to Beitaddine last Saturday with the 7th and 8th graders. Here I am with some of the little devils, or what they call shaytanat in Arabic.

Bus wreckage at Kahale

Bus remains at Kahale
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.

Kahale is a town along the Damascas highway, which is the road I have to use to get to Beirut. Kahale is a very bad curve. So sometimes buses crash along the side. This was ummm, interesting. . . because they didn't clean it up for about a month. They left all the wreckage with the bloody seats and everything for about a month. To serve as a warning to the drivers to slow down and not drive like lunatics.

The school in Gaza. . .what could have been. . .

Here are some excerpts from e-mails from a teacher who works at our sister school in Cairo. We met at the job fair in Boston where I got hired to teach in Gaza.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Two of the other teachers are escapeee's from our sister school in Gaza. They are full of stories of rockets being fired and the little freedom they had living there. Three weeks ago the school was attacked by militants...stories of masked gunmen, caring machine guns, running in the halls looking to capture teachers...students screeming in terror...finally took four teachers...two they held for kidnapping negotiations. Two support staff shot!!! Needless to say they are very traumatized...and to think you and I were open to a Gaza assignment when they offered me Cairo...as the palapa turns!!!

As for the gaza thing...the only teachers that were kidnapped were released in a couple of days..unhurt but very tramatized...About 12 of them came to Cairo (on esol ticket) and hung out for about 10 days...then administration had a big meeting with them and about nine of them returned to the school yesterday. I guess they were offered a bonus to return. Most of them want to get their stuff and finish the year/contract...money trip home etc...
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
What's a palapa?