One of My Students...

...has a farm, so we get olive oil and fresh camel milk every week.

...is a tailor, so we get our pants hemmed for free.

...brought me the latest Jackie Chan movie (he's a young Mongolian).

...loves to cook, so I get cooking lessons for free - including Arab meat pie (see picture) and kebabs.

...collects stickers, so I also have a growing collection (she's a primary student!).

...out of respect brings me little treats, like packaged muffins or crackers.

...brought me a Mars bar from Germany (she had to point out it wasn't the locally produced kind when I didn't recognize the import of the gift as I should have).

...brought me a strawberry cream cake (an 8 year old!).

...is making a business trip to Germany, and is promising to bring me back good chocolate.

...owns a car dealership (...maybe for the future!)

Church

When we arrived we decided that we'd like to visit the various churches around our city to see what they're like...turns out there's quite an array.

There are a few churches that have legal status and the accompanying visas for their pastors - in order to serve the expatriate community. The Catholic Church is, I think, the biggest. They maintained their cathedral through some turbulent years, and it is ornately decorated inside with frescoes and mosaics. They hold numerous services each week, in languages from Filipino, Indian, Polish, Korean and Italian to Spanish and French. They also have about 100 nuns here from the same order as Mother Theresa; and they mainly do medical work.

There is a mostly Ghanaian Church that we visited - and it was just like being back in Ghana! The rhythms of the singing were moving - and we aren't that good at moving to them, but the rest of the congregation was! I struggled to even clap in-time to the non-Western beat.
The local Anglican Church has the other cathedral downtown. It is majority Nigerian, with the next population being Indian, and a small minority of Europeans/North Americans/Auzzis/Kiwis. This makes for some very, very interesting cultural dynamics:

Nigerians are the Ushers, and this is a serious position. If you sit too near the back, they will ask you to 'shift' - to move up to the closest seat to the front that's available. The goal being to fill in every seat from front to back. Women sit to the right of the isle, and men on the left side. Secondly, beware of falling asleep during the service or else the usher will walk down the isle and nudge your elbow! Likewise, when the Egyptian Bishop was visiting, he would pause in his preaching to wait for latecomers find their seats!

Even the resident pigeons mind their p's and q's. Usually they restrain themselves to cooing and mild flapping about as they navigate the rafters. Only one time have I seen anything fall -yet that that was not during a service, and only hit an uninhabited side isle. Very impressive.

Three other things I find amusing: 1) The building sports some exceptionally well done paint-by-number religious artwork. 2) The responsive readings become a race, with many reading as fast as they can (to sport their English skills??). And 3) The Nigerians lead their own songs before the main service starts; you have to listen hard to realize that they are singing in English, and sometimes I even have to ask the person next to me what they're saying because the African-English accent is so think.

Btw, it's still a little strange to be with the church on Fridays, and at work on Sundays!

Floored

I've peeled myself up from the tile floor to tell you that today was a hot day. I think it was about 115 degrees, or so. What makes it more hot is the strong, sandy wind. It is strange to get used to wind being hot.

And so, we came home and stripped down to lie on the cool-ish tile floor. I mentioned earlier that we do have air conditioning. Yes, we have the capability. But, unfortunately something about the electric cable not being strong enough means that sometimes there isn't enough juice to go around the building. So at night our lights flicker and go dim, and the microwave doesn't produce heat...and the AC doesn't produce much cold. Not all the time, but usually when we're all trying to use energy - either when it's pretty hot or pretty cold and we turn on the ACs/heaters. Good thing that no one else will be living in our building during the really hot summer months (we're staying longer to teach summer school while everyone else is going on vacation).

Sand is the other part of the equation. As I taught my evening class I watched the wind whip up a massive cloud of sand so that I couldn't see out of my thirdfloor window. It's the North African version of fog. I was praying that we hadn't left our windows opened! The students were asking for the English word for sandy wind - and we don't have one of our own! As Artic-dwellers have multpiple names for snow, they have a more advanced sand vocabulary here.

The BBC describes the situation this way: We are "affected from March to June by very hot, dusty winds from the desert which bring very high temperatures, often exceeding 50°C/122°F for a day or two."

Let's hope it is a only a day or two - and that it doesn't mark the beginning of the real summer heat.

Either way, I think we'll be spending a lot more time on our tile floors.

Farmers’ Markets

One joy of being here is discovering the produce available. We get fruit and vegetables seasonally. I was thrilled with the best oranges I have ever tasted in February/March; but those are long gone now. Presently we’re in heaven with apricots and peaches. We always enjoy olives (because they’re dried) and the best dates on earth. Here are some pictures – check out how ‘straight-from-the-farm’ it is…

...Spinach complete with ladybug; carrots with tops on (normally the produce men cut off the tops before you take them home, same with onions); yolked and feathered eggs; as yet unitentified local fruit, with a large pit inside; and a Barley Loaf.

They get to the vegetable stands via pickups trucks piled high with watermellons or cantelope (currently) coming in from local farms. Once I went to the big wholesale vegetable market. There, a young boy follows you around with a wheelbarrow, toting your produce for a tip.

Malfunction Junction

I think the #1 risk we encounter is road safety. This can be said in many places, but I do think that the driving here can be more dangerous than any other place I’ve encountered. I tend to feel this way when we’re joining a young (testosterone-filled, macho) male in his taxi. These guys bob and weave through traffic like they’re in Hollywood car chases. Unfortunately, the other cars haven't rehearsed the choreography.

The reason I think driving is more dangerous here than elsewhere is that there is enough infrastructure to supports high speeds. Whereas in other parts of Africa potholes, dirt roads, and dilapidated vehicles limit the speed cars can reach, here the main highway is in fairly good shape and newly imported cars can travel at excessive speeds. This is a problem because there is not a long history of driving culture to establish certain life-preserving ‘rules’ of driving, or to facilitate much beyond white-knuckle driving experiences. As you can imagine, driving cars is quite different than driving the camels and horses they are replacing.

That isn't to say that there aren't any road rules. For example, the rule at roundabouts is that you yeild to those entering the roundabout. If you try this, you'll see how difficult it is because it requires the drivers to turn around in their seats and look backwards; further, it encourages those approaching the roundabout to enter it at full speed as though it were just a part of their own road. However, roundabouts are often ignored altogether, with drivers driving "straight" and thus heading into oncoming traffic. At our big intersection there is one lane that was designed to be either and on, or an off ramp to the roundabout. It, however, functions as both, which makes for many near-misses.

These are popular names for a few local traffic points that sum up the situation: "malfunction junction," "death roundabout" and "suicide slipway."

Camel Country

Because this is Camel Country, you can find an array of camel products here.

For example, we buy ground camel at the butchers, and use it much like beef. E.g. I've made Camel Chili and Camel Burgers. It has a stronger flavor - but it's very nice. It's also higher in protein with less fat than beef - so I read on the Internet. Here, camel couscous is a common dish.

You know that camel meat is available at the local butchers when you see a head hanging in the window (likewise, a cow head means that the beef is fresh - and they also display other items of anatomy for sale!). Alternatively, if you see the live animal tied up next to the butchers, you can bet tomorrow will be the day to get it fresh ground. And, more than once I've jumped out of my skin upon rounding the corner and being greeted by the Chewbacca-like moan of a tied up camel - definitely within spitting distance. Jared likes to call them 'habibi,' which is a term of endearment, and they respond with the sound of a microphoned sheep being strangled.

One of my students has a farm. He approached me after class last week to remind me that about a month ago I mentioned that I like to drink milk (we must have been doing "I like" target language!?). Then he offered to bring me fresh camel milk from his farm. My friends laughed when I told them - some of them have never tried it, and some claim that the first time you drink it you can get diarrhea. Great! Well, he brought about a liter of milk, with promises of more if we like it. It's in the fridge now - I haven't attempted it yet, but I will soon.

[Update: I tried it, and it's good! It's more similar to cow's milk than I expected - probably because he skimmed it (...and no diarrhea)]

We also have camel-hair woven rugs, and various home decorations studded with camel bone. What a useful creature...


To Market, To Market…

Pollyanna & Culture Stress Indicators

One symptom of culture shock is the tendency to compare the best of your home culture to the worst of what you find in your new home. As an antidote against that, I thought I’d try an exercise of taking a more realistic view – or even one more weighted on the other side. So, here it goes…

1. The kitchen sink: Here there is a ledge that prevents you from standing at the sink – you more have to bend over to it, or put your foot up on the ledge, which is better for your back. VS: In LA, we had a handicapped equipped apartment, so our sink was really low and I chose to do squats at the sink to save my lower back and feel like I was getting something out of it (muscle workout!) besides bitterness.
2. Here, the faucet is too low to rinse large bowls pots. VS: In LA the faucet was too high for the sink and splashed excessive amounts of water around the kitchen.
3. The washing machine leaks across the bathroom floor, and it prevents the bathroom door from closing. VS: We had no washer in LA, so no complaints here!
4. Here the internet is in and out on a constant basis. Though we have Ethernet cables at home and wireless at school, it is often as slow as or slower than dialup. VS: We only had dialup at home in LA, and it was always very slow.
5. We have some cockroaches sometimes in our kitchen (though in the past few hot days I’ve seen four big-mama roaches!). VS: In LA we had an infestation that was near maddening.
6. When the reflective windows are shut the light is quite low inside. VS: We had minimal natural light in LA, and used electric lights almost throughout the day.
7. When sandstorms come we get dustpan full loads of sand in our apartment. VS: Our apartment in LA had a lot of dust. But here, we have a Ghanaian woman who comes once a week to help us clean!
8. The limey-pea green paint with orange curtains and light fixture in our bedroom are 'not peaceful.' VS: In LA our bedroom was in our dining room, living room and study (we lived in a studio!) – and we had no overhead light fixture, and no colors.
9. It's surprisingly hard to stay warm in the winter with tile floors and high ceilings. VS: LA where we were known to wear hats, scarfs and gloves inside our apartment - while roasting in the summers with no AC. Here we have heat - PLUS Air Conditioning. We do try to conserve, but when the temps get into the 120F....! Now that it's hot, the high celings and tile floors are paying off.

Of course, we can’t really do the “Pollyanna” response to everything that’s difficult. We did fix the worst problems: Within my first 2 weeks the gas leak was solved, after 1 1/2 months our toilet flushes again, and even the screeching window hinges have cardboard jammed into them so they've been rendered silent. However, there are some less dramatic issues that are still somewhat bothersome to me (this is my list, not necessarily Jared's):

1. The kitchen sink faucet “travels”…as in, it won’t stay poised over the sink to rinse dishes or fill pots. I know I’ve mentioned the sink a lot here – I think maybe I should just replace the faucet and move on!
2. As a good friend commented recently, sometimes I feel like an over-embroidered potato sack. I’m getting tired of the types of fashions I’m socially obliged to wear here. First, I need to be sensitive in making sure I’m not showing skin. I think that will get more difficult the hotter the weather gets. But secondly, the clothing culture for women is quite high here. To walk out in Rainbows (flipflops), jeans and a shirt (California style), would be frumpy and shameful. As a very young women, both these issues are heightened for me. I get some relief at home, but windows and balconies mean that I’m also on display here. Sometimes I close all the shutters or curtains and wear what I want!
3. Really, the affective aspectives of the apartment aren't anywhere within reach of our cultural definitions of what's pleasant to look at/be in. In short, it doesn't feel very calming and peaceful with oranges, pea-greens, pinks and bright blues. It's the visual equivalent of scraping your fingernails down a chalk board.

So, I'm going to look at these three issues and see what adjustments might be possible. I'll let you know...

North Africa…Where all your Dreams Come True

We saw a poster with this title other day and it made us laugh. However, we shouldn’t laugh too hard because this week two of Jared’s long-term dreams came true.

1. For a violin.
2. For a grand piano.

How was this possible?? Well, one of the only music stores in the country (affectionately called “The Yamaha Store”) had a going-out-of-business sale. We rushed over after school one night and bought mass supplies of guitar/violin strings and picks, drum heads and sticks – even guitars. Once the store is gone, it will be hard to get such supplies for the school, so Jared stocked up. We first bought all these goods... and then Jared turned to his own interests – a German violin that he’s been eyeing for a few weeks. Since he was a boy he has wanted to have a violin and learn to play. After all the (school’s) money we spend on the music gear, the shop assistant–turned-friend was more than happy to make a good deal "because it’s for you." As I say this he’s sitting behind me practicing his scales – and is quite happy.


When he’s not spending free time on the violin, he’s over at the school on “his” new baby grand piano. With school funds, he negotiated from 19,000 dinars to 10,000 dinars. Then he showed up the next day with 9,000 dinars in cash (see the picture of what that looks like – the 20 dinar note is the highest bank note available, but school mostly had 5’s and 10’s on hand that day!).



The real feat, though, was transporting it to the school. With no one in-country with piano-moving expertise, we hit Google to get some advice about how to do it. Jared insisted on being present for the move, and he was flexible and gracious when a flat-bed mini-truck pulled up to the shop. But, he wouldn’t budge in insisting that they remove the petals and actually cover the piano. They obliged and found some bed sheets to wrap it in - before using duct tape to secure the piano in the back of the truck (I’m really sorry I didn’t get my camera in time to document that!). Jared hugged the driver and pleaded with him, ‘shwaya, shwaya,’ – ‘please, slowly, slowly.’ It made it in one piece to the school, but then the nine men had to wrestle it up three flights of steps! I’ll spare the details and let you see the pictures…

Pizza and Pancakes (…with Date Syrup)

We still find it hard to believe that we’re actually living here. Plus, we’ve been globetrotting quite a bit the past few years, so it’s hard to grasp the idea that we have full-time jobs and are settled. “Settled” sounds like a relative term. Anyhow, in a recent conversation we determined that a place is finally becoming home we can do our usual pizza and pancake rituals. This involves making whole grain fruit pancakes on Saturday mornings and whole wheat veggie-mania pizzas on the weekend…and we’re getting close.

We’ve got the pancake thing down now, though Jared now sweetens with date syrup and Cat with honey since maple syrup is a decidedly North American product. As for pizzas, we haven’t quite rolled out our own dough yet, but we’ve just found some suitable flatbreads to use in the interim. I’m full right now after Jared just produced his first batch with fresh herbs - savory and mint. Wow, so good.

Babies R’Us

One of my best friends at school had a baby shower – for her newborn sister! Yes, families are very large here, and it’s not abnormal for women to bear upwards of 10 children (usually they’re the older generation, though).

Of course, I went to the big party for the new baby. It was much the same as a wedding party. The venue was a little smaller, but the stage area had the ornate ‘couch’ of honor, flanked by life sized teddy bears and helium balloons – all in pink since the baby is a girl.

The guests all sat at the tables, sipping on the celebratory almond milk and cookies waiting for the family to make the grand entrance. And it was a grand entrance!...the DJ put on some fast paced music and the baby was wheeled down the center isle in a white bassinet, accompanied by the female relatives – all wearing conical pink Barbie Doll party hats. They stopped the bassinet halfway into the crowd of tables so that the women could dance for the baby! A few women at a time came up and shook their stuff in front of the bassinet for her to enjoy! Eventually the baby was taken up the stage and we proceeded to have the full meal – and lots of dancing.

My polite refusals to dance were to no avail – in my honor the DJ put on an ‘English’ song so that I could dance – how thoughtful! Fortunately, my friend and some other girls at our table joined in. When I say dancing, I don’t mean a general dance floor environment. I mean that one or two women showcase their moves at a time in the center of the room. They often tie a sash around their rear to accentuate their skills at moving it. The rest of the guests watch and some clap in time for them. So, there’s no way to be an inconspicuous dancer. Furthermore, as the only foreigner from Europe/The Americas (my friend said I wasn’t the only foreigner since there were was an Egyptian present!), all eyes were on me any time I made a move the whole night – including trips to the bathroom.

I took pictures of the party favors we were given - each of which held chocolates, cookies or baklava.