School

Our Arabic studies are coming along. We started school last week, jumping right into possessive pronouns, "mine," "yours," "ours," and the like. I was called upon to demonstrate my grasp of the subject matter. The teacher held up a book ("my" book for the purpose of instruction) and asked me in Arabic, "Is this your book?"

"Yes. I am a book," was my reply.

I'm in Level One, very well placed as you might infer from the above. There are five different levels taught over about 15 months or so, after which you should be able to read classical poetry without too much difficulty. I can't do this in English, so I'm curious to see what happens if I stick out the whole term.

School is about a mile and a half from my home, virtually all uphill. The picture above shows a view of where our home is in relation to where I go to school. In the center of the picture you'll see a greenish dome. That's the mosque right behind our apartment. The shot was actually taken from school. It takes about 15 minutes or so to walk (hike) there.

Walking about is a work-out, no matter where you're going, no matter how far or short the distance. Amman is mountainous country. The first week had me in agony with cramped thighs (uphill) and shin splints (downhill). The amazing thing is that I don't feel either so much anymore, although I'm still breathing pretty hard after about a mile or so.

I read that the number one cause of death in Jordan is "diseases of the circulatory system." This is shocking considering the terrain and the amount of walking people seem to do. The number three cause of death here is "accidents." This is also shocking. The driving here is atrocious. Maybe the driving here gets everybody's blood pressure up and they die before they actually get hit by a car.

People drive like you might walk. In other words, the man in his car seems to see himself as equal to and subject to the same rules and standards of the man walking. There is absolutely no deference given to a person (man, woman, or child) bold enough to cross a street. Over time it becomes something of a little game. Like it or not, if you're going to spend time here you'll have to learn how to play.

5y also started school. She has gone only one day so far. Another term for a "cluster of children" should very well be "petri dish." She brought home some vicious little bug that fired her up to 102.6 degrees and got everyone else in the house sick. Lot's of snot. We're all better for the most part, al'hamdu'lillah. She should be back at school tomorrow, insha'Allah.

Tonight is the eve of Ramadan, the Muslim holy month of fasting. Starting tomorrow at dawn we aren't allowed to eat or drink anything until sunset. This goes on for about thirty days. This is something we are truly excited about. Being Muslim in America, you can count on a few of your friends and family to fast along with you. But a whole country! It already feels way more festive than back in the States. A lot of people have put up Ramadan lights in the way I'm used to seeing Christmas lights. Actually, not quite. More like a shimmering crescent moon and star in a window, nothing really over the top. But it's still really neat to see.

Last night we were at wife's uncle's house. His family invited us over for mansaf, the traditional Jordanian meal offered to honored guests. It's nothing more than a pile of rice with mutton and a kind of yogurt sauce poured all over. That's Jordanian cooking in a nutshell- very simple but quite hearty. We all sat around a large platter set on the floor with a few other dishes (chicken and potatoes, parsley salad) and ate with our hands. You scoop up a bit of this saucy rice and meat and mush it around until it becomes a ball. Then you toss the ball in your mouth. Jordanians do this very well. The rest of us make a mess of things. It was really good.

I'll tell you more when I get a chance. May your next 30 days be filled with light and happiness!