“Ramadan Kareem!”

Today marks the first day of Ramadan, a month-long period of fasting for practicing Muslims.  I asked the language partners yesterday how Ramadan, as a month of fasting, came about and they couldn’t tell me, so I can’t either!  (I could look it up, of course, but then, so could you.)  As funny as it may seem to us non-Muslims, however, they are legitimately looking forward to this time of year.  A typical day of fasting, at least in Oman, consists of the following: waking up at 3:30 in the morning to eat breakfast (usually left-overs from dinner the night before; that is, probably a dish including chicken, fish, and rice); praying and going back to bed before heading off to work for the day; making it through the day without so much as chewing a piece of gum, praying around lunch-time and then taking a nice nap during the hottest hours of the day (the work-days are cut shorter during Ramadan to account for the fatigue which typically accompanies fasting); then praying again sometime between 3 and 6; breaking the fast at last once the sun has set with some water, dates, and another prayer; followed by a huge meal that goes late into the night, and another round of praying (5 in total).  When our CLS members inquired what it is about Ramadan that the language partners enjoy so much, they replied that it is the opportunity for them to make a more conscious effort to be closer to God, and remind themselves how much they are grateful for in their lives.  Between you and me, I sensed that the opportunity of more “communal-ness” is probably the true underlying factor, as family and relationships are an extremely big deal in Omani culture, and Ramadan is an automatic excuse to spend as much time with people eating and sleeping and watching Ramadan TV dramas that people look forward to every year.  I don’t mean any disrespect by this comment; it is only an observation, and who could blame them for looking forward to having a party every night for a month straight, with laughing and and stuffing your stomachs while you spend quality bonding time with your favorite people?  (I’d go for dancing, too, but apparently music and dancing is forbidden during Ramadan according to Muslim standards as well.  Sad.)

First, a few guidelines for following Ramadan, at least in Oman:

It is actually illegal to consume food or beverages in a public place in Oman during Ramadan during daylight hours (a.k.a. if us non-fasters feel the need for a sip of water, we must do so in bathroom stalls, the Haram Room, or in the classroom while the professor’s not looking!).  In fact, restaurants are not allowed, by law, to serve food and drinks until after sun set (the only exception is hotels, where non-Muslims reside).  Shopping centers have shorter hours, but you can at least purchase food/drinks there during the day.  At first, I found it hard to believe that this entire month, with places cutting their hours/shutting down for four weeks, doesn’t completely throw Oman’s economy off-kilter.  But my professor reminded the class that these places typically stay open later into the night to account for Ramadan.  Even still, it seems incredibly unproductive to me.  But remember, readers, this is coming from an American get-things-done, money-makes-the-world-go-round (unfortunately) kind of girl, and not the entire world runs under this philosophy…

Anyways, Ramadan does fortunately take health issues into consideration.  That is, a very small select population of Omanis may eat and drink when necessary if fasting would be detrimental to their survival; pregnant women are permitted to eat and drink any time (but may fast if they prefer), for the sake of the baby’s health; and women on their periods are excused from fasting as well (and they are not allowed to pray this week, either).  In some instances, such as if a person goes on a long trip, they are permitted to postpone these days of fasting and add them on to the end of Ramadan.

So after all the hype that has been going on with the approach of Ramadan, I was expecting dinner at the hotel tonight to be a big deal.  Instead, I felt as if I were a child and someone had popped my balloon.  The TV screen that I watch every evening during dinner abruptly switched to a televised call-to-prayer once the sun set at 7:05, and I was anticipating some cheers, or exclamations of joy, or clapping.  But the first breaking of the fast was very anti-dramatic.  There was nothing but the silent pouring of water and consumption of dates as Omanis around us broke their fasts in a very composed manner.  I waited until 7:05 to eat dinner, out of respect, but I have yet to take part in a full day’s worth of fasting.  The university is kind enough to provide us non-Muslims with breakfast and lunch in the “Haram Room,” as we call it (the “Forbidden Room”), and because I need to be as focused as possible on this trip, I have thought it wiser to keep my stomach satisfied.  Will I fast one day?  Yes.  Our program requires that we spend time with an Omani family one evening and celebrate Iftar (“breaking of the fast”) with them.  I am looking forward to fasting that day so that I can feel the same sense of accomplishment and satisfaction as them once it comes time to dig into their huge feast after the sun sets.  However, as much as I would like to, I will never be able to truly understand the significance of Ramadan.  Should I fast, I would of course share the same feeling of longing that the homeless and poor must feel on a daily basis.  But while most of the Ramadan fasters would also have this feeling of being closer to a higher religious being, the most I might feel is a sharp pang of hunger towards the end of the day.  So, you see, partaking in this cultural experience will only do so much for me.  But, when I decide to, I will let you know how it goes.

Two “Haflas” in One Night

Happy Independence Day, everyone!  Even though we’re half-way around the world, CLS Nizwa definitely celebrated big-time for the 4th of July.  We started off the night with a different kind of party, though—the University of Nizwa arranged a large social gathering in our honor, and for a few other international programs visiting UofN as well.  I was looking forward to the event because we were told the Royal Orchestra wanted to perform for us, and they were indeed good. But, sorry, I don’t have a video per their copyright reasons.  I do have a few clips of other acts from that night, however, such as Ross and Doug’s performance of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” done completely in Arabic.  Impressive.  And then there’s a clip of the Middle Eastern-style “dubka” dance, which is a lot of fun and not too complicated once you get the hang of it.

I was also looking forward to the evening because I had volunteered to perform my favorite Arabic poem, but my name was never called!!  :(  One of my professors, Fatima, was so patient and helpful as she helped me recite it earlier that afternoon over and over during her office hours.  The night was long, however, and I think I wanted to go home as much as everyone else.  So, I am reserving the poem for a future event, and hopefully my pronunciation will be just that much better by then.  The poem, by the way, is actually a song performed by the singer Rim Banna.  The song, and translation, of “Fares Oude” is available at this link, but I’ve provided it for you here: www.youtube.com/watch?v_loLa2d0Sy5E&noredirect=1

www.youtube.com/watch?v_loLa2d0Sy5E&noredirect=1

“For Faris Odeh, a martyr at 14 and an inspiration to us all.  [Fares Oude, I believe, was the name of a 14-year-old Palestinian child who was killed by Israelis some time ago for opposing the occupation.]

English translation:
The butterfly will carry you to the back of a cloud
The gazelle will run with you to a hollow of sycamore
The scent of bread and will carry you, a martyr, to the embrace of your mother
The star said to him, "take me to the courtyard of my house"
"Take me to the mattress of my slumber"

Sleepiness climbed up my sides
And sat down in my head
The Gazan boy spoke to his shadow

In the mother's heart is a hiding place for her children and her sadness
In the mother's embrace and her heart
The bereaved mother has a heart of milk and glass
The father who's lost his son has a heart of tears with which he lights the lamp

Lyrics in Arabic:
ريم بنا -- فارس عودة
ستحملك الفراشة إلى ظهر غيمة
ستجري بك الغزالة إلى جوف جميزة
ستحملك رائحة الخبز والحليب شهيداً إلى حضن أمك

قالت له النجمة خذني إلى صحن داري
خذني إلى فراش نومي
لقد تسلق النعاس أطرافي

وتربع في جوف رأسي
خاطب الفتى الغزي ظله

في قلب الأم مخابئ لأطفالها وحزنها في حضن الأم وقلبها
للمرأة الثكلى قلب من حليب وزجاج
للأب المفجوع قلب من دمع يضيء به السراج ”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _

Sorry, if you found that depressing, but I find it beautiful!  In a solemn sort of way.  But back to my story: At the hafla (party), I ate dinner with a young Omani woman I had met a few days earlier, and I am hoping to stay the night at her house sometime before I leave this month if I ever find a day where I am not so gosh darn busy!  She invited me over to her house that night but I declined the offer, per my 9 p.m. curfew.

I broke curfew that night anyway, however, because the language partners had arranged a surprise 4th of July party for us!  As you can see by my pictures, we enjoyed ourselves immensely!  I think a lot of the stress that had been building up over the month deflated as we spoke English freely and painted our faces and took funny pictures while being “foamed” and “silly-stringed.”  They also got little fire-works and poppers for us, too, which we set off outside in front of our main hall.  The cake tasted like legitimate American cake, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as we unanimously belted out the Star-Spangled Benner before blowing out the candles.  America, we’ve still got a lot of work to do, but I love you!

Discussions of Quality

Today was emotional for me again, but for completely different reasons.  Let me first say that I am so much (happier?/less stressed?/comfortable?) in the Level 3 course.  The chapter vocabulary is coming back to me at just the right pace, and I honestly forgot a lot of the specific grammar rules covered in these four chapters.  As much as I dislike the idea of reviewing the same content I was supposed to remember from Morocco last year, my Resident Director assured me that the second al-Kitaab book is the book of the series of which one should have a solid understanding.  Already, I can see that she led me in the right direction.  On top of that, I am speaking much more in my class, asking good questions, presenting information to the class with greater ease, and feeling over-all better about myself (which always helps).  True, I miss some of the topics we discussed in my Level 4 class.  But after my Level 3 classmate Anna and I talked, she proposed holding debates in our class as well, and this suggestion was well received.

So, for example, yesterday we had a debate in class about the issue of U.S. espionage on other countries (and its own people, as Snowden argues).  I’ll keep my real opinion about espionage to myself, but for the sake of this assignment I was assigned to the “against” side,  so I mentioned that the U.S. government can work with foreign governments to fight terrorism.  I then backed up this argument by referring to the case of the U.S. working with Pakistan to eliminate Osama bin Laden.  My teacher thought I brought up an excellent point.  How cool is that??  I can express different points of view about espionage in Arabic!! 

Today was similarly rewarding—I was actually really excited that my professor assigned us presentations as our homework yesterday, in which we had to report on a country’s political history and social structure to the class this morning.  With a day to go before my year-long Fellowship with the National Council on US-Arab Relations is complete, my hand shot right up for another opportunity to share my Fellowship experience.  I volunteered to report on Lebanon, which I had visited for 10 days last summer on my fellowship.  After rearranging a few slides from an old Fellowship slideshow I had put together last year, I presented in class a brief history of the nation and the complications it is currently experiencing today.  Reflecting on my capabilities to express such complex information has helped me gauge much better my true capabilities of interacting in Arabic and my comprehension of the language.  Needless to say, I feel a lot better about how far of come, despite how far I still have to go.

My frustration of the day came not from my language interaction but rather from the discussions we had in my Omani class.  Today was about women’s rights, of which I am a huge advocate for equality across the gender field.  For the most part I understand, and respect, the different cultural attitudes held here about gender roles, but if there is one thing that I really despise, it’s double standards.  I’m going to rant.  A lot.  So I will save it for another post.

And, fortunately, after my disgruntling Omani Arabic course, I had lunch and headed off to language partner groups, where things got much better.  I don’t care for participating in the student groups very much, but Mohammed spoke with each of us separately for a little while today, and my task was to re-tell our weekend excursion!  It was wonderful practice and he is so patient, so I felt very accomplished after our half hour.  And, as he had found out it was my birthday a few days ago, he snuck a tiny gift into my pencil case, which happened to be a very bejeweled Hello Kitty keychain.  :D  They love their bling here. 

The Local Falaj

One of my hopes before coming here was that I would be able to have access to one of Oman’s many “falaj” systems, the water irrigation system commonly used in Oman (and popular in other countries around the world as well).  One of them, Nizwa’s nearby Falaj Daris, was even named a World Heritage Site.  What a pleasant surprise it was for me to find that the University of Nizwa took care of this for me! :)  Counting as our second excursion, the trip to the falaj and old mountain village nearby was a great opportunity to get out of the university and check out the surrounding town.  You see, the University of Nizwa is not actually located in Nizwa but rather 25 minutes down the road in a district called Birkat al-Mouz.  From what I’ve seen of it (which hasn’t been much), it’s quite small.  And, again from what I’ve seen of it, it has the perfect personality I’d pictured of a “typical Omani village:” brown, rocky mountains in the distance, while, under shady palm trees, boys bathe in the gurgling water that makes its way through the simple town.  My photos in the gallery will complement this description.

So the way the falaj system works (this is how my cultural excursions guide explained it, at least) is that, even before modern technology, Omanis somehow recognized where water was located deep in the mountains of Oman.  So they would dig all the way down until they discovered the pool of water, then they would move out a little farther from the mountains and dig down to a pool of water again and keep doing this until they got to their village.  They would then dig a pathway to each of the “pools” so that the water could run freely from deep within the mountain down through to the village.  Such a method continues to be the main water source for the people of Oman.

Between the sounds and the sights of the falaj, I found the place to be perfectly serene.  The water was not as cold as I had expected, but it was crystal clear.  Following Birkat al-Mouz’s falaj up the mountain, our group entered an old mountain village where only a few families still reside.  When Sultan Qaboos took power in the 70s, he had village houses built for the people of the mountains.  I’ve been told that in some places, the people refused to leave their mountain homes.  In other locations around the country, the people moved into the more modern homes but refused to let the government tear down their old mountain residences.  In Birkat al-Mouz’s case, you can see by my pictures of what remains of these preserved homes.

Emotions to the Extreme

My emotions are like a roller coaster.  One minute, I am ecstatic that I understand as much Arabic as I do.  The next moment, I feel my eyes glaze over as I search deep in my mind for a vocabulary word that someone said fifteen sentences ago.  Maybe I’m over my head, but I love the discussions we have in class.  Many times I don’t understand them very well, and sometimes not at all, but what I do understand is that the discussions we are having in class are about topics that truly matter—rights between men and women, the separation of church and state…

For the entire week, I have been debating with myself about whether or not I need to go a level lower and review the chapters I did in Morocco, or stick it out and push myself as I try to comprehend whatever part of the class discussions that I can.  And I wouldn’t feel half so exhausted, I think, if I could at least comprehend the discussions taking place during our language partner sessions.  But Ross and Alice are both awesome (or at least way more comfortable) at conversing in Arabic, so I find I end up just sitting there nodding or staring blankly at them, hoping that a spark of comprehension will suddenly alight in my noggin.  Fortunately, Mohammed engaged in 1-on-1 conversations with each of us for about half an hour before returning to a group setting, and I was open and honest with him (in Arabic, of course) that I don’t understand half the time what they’re saying but that I’m trying to.  We then proceeded to converse about my life and his life, ground which I am comfortable talking about.  I definitely want to push myself on this program, but I’ve come to realize that I will be most successful if I take baby steps; trying to leap across buildings will only leave me bruised and battered, and that is how my mind has been feeling since I got here: on information overload.

It’s about time for me to go meet the rest of my group for our language partner session, but I think I’m going to speak with my Resident Director afterwards and see what she thinks about my situation.  I hate the thought of re-doing the chapters which I studied in Morocco last summer, but at this rate, I’m going to be burnt out before the program’s half-way through.  But I must say, as troubled as I may sound in this post, I really am having a wonderful experience regardless of the level I am in.  I am learning new, important words every day outside of the classroom, too, and the exposure to such a different culture has been incredible.  So don’t worry, friends, I will figure things out! :)

Birthday Omani-Style

So, yesterday was my birthday.  And I had two quizzes.  How fun.  If I were in America, Sunday would mean the weekend, and I would have spent my birthday celebrating with family and friends over cake and ice cream.  But I am not in America and my life is not normal.  How did I spend my “special” day?  Putting thoughts of class and quizzes aside, I spent it sitting cross-legged on the floor in the students’ activities hall of the University of Nizwa feasting on Omani snacks with my fellow female colleagues.  The language partner women cut up bananas and mangos and apples and oranges, and they opened cartons of cookies and cake for us, too.  Someone had prepared “hilwey” at home, which is a jelly-like substance made out of dates and nuts that has the slightest spicy zing to it.  Personally, I don’t care for it.  But the plain ole dates may be growing on me.  We were also served coffee from tiny teacups and I’ve noticed a trend here: there are only about 2-4 cups a set, so, initially, that number of individuals will take their tea.  As soon as they are done, the server will scoop the cup through an oversized bowl of water and then fill the cup up with coffee to serve to the next person.  Another interesting Omani aspect of taking tea/coffee, which I formally learned in my Omani Arabic course, is that as soon as a person has had enough to drink, they will shake the cup back and forth slightly as they hand it to the server to signal they are satisfied.  Although the feast was by no means prepared in my honor, word got out that it was my birthday, and so I was treated with both the English and Arabic versions of the birthday song (the same tune is international, by the way).  I’d like to say that my friends and I made a cake back at the apartment and celebrated, but I’d be lying.  This program is seriously so draining that all everyone wanted to do (myself included) was do their homework and go to bed.  Maybe we can celebrate this weekend, when two other people are having their birthdays.

It wasn’t until I checked my email this morning and got a note from my sister that I was reminded it was not just my birthday, but my golden birthday (turning 23 on the 23rd)!  So perhaps my friends, family, and I will have to have an extra big welcome home bash when I return.  I miss you all!

Word from Aubrey At Last!

Hi, everyone!  Sorry about leaving you all in the dark for so long.  At first, I didn’t upload any posts simply because I was so busy.  And then once I tried, Google blocked me because I’m out of the country!  Sheesh… but I woke up this morning and crossed my fingers as I hit the “publish” button for every blog I have saved, hoping that somehow the problem would be solved over the weekend and that my posts would magically be published.  Ta-da!  Alhamdulillah, they were.  I still have a few more tweaking to do to some, but Insha'Allah they will be uploaded soon and you guys can finally get a taste of what I have been experiencing here.  But now that I have finished taking extra advantage of the university wi-fi by uploading all of my current photos, I’m going to get back to work so that all I have to do this evening when I get home is snuggle up in my bed and blog!  And, please, if anyone has any questions or comments, please post them—it makes me happy to know that someone actually reads what I write, and I want to clear up any fuzzy thoughts about this region of the Arab World.  Happy reading, everyone!