Sooq

Today was the happiest day of my entire time in Jordan so far.

I woke up happy. A few months ago, the noise in the morning really used to bother me. My arabic family yells a lot. I didn't understand what they were saying before, and mostly, I didn't understand the tone of things.

This morning, their noise was actually calming. One of my favorite things about home in the states is waking up on a Saturday morning to the sound of clinking dishes downstairs. Familiar delicious smells creeping in, like bacon and eggs, and pancakes...this morning, it was a similar experience. Familiar smells, familiar noises - calming. I understood what they were saying, it didn't make me want to cry and curl up - the opposite! Amazing.

Then, I went to the sooq with Mona, my arab mom, and Mahmoud. It was the most fun shopping experience I have ever had in my life. This place, it is so beautiful. Imagine lots of people in the streets, open stores, people yelling things like, "bazalla bazalla bazalla lira wa noos lira wa noos!" - "beans beans beans, two bucks, two bucks!" Oranges in their bags hanging down from the roofs of stores, piles of dishes, and shoes - storefronts, people walking, people selling.

In order to buy or sell or eat or LIVE here, you have to speak Arabic. I can't pretend to speak fluently, but I definitely understand. I don't even think I can say I understand fluently - Arabic is so large and vast and huge. But of Irbidean Ammiya Arabic, I understand about 75% of the words, and 95% of what's going on.

I was so happy today. I can't exactly explain why. Just knowing that I am a daughter of God, and knowing that I am going to use my Arabic. I think God has been helping me recently, giving me extra measures of patience and wisdom. When bad thoughts come to my head, and I feel discouraged, I chase them out with hymns. It's not worth focusing on the bad.

I bought presents for my family today. Heaven knows how I will bring back all of this stuff in one suitcase, with the 65 kilo limit. Allah ya'alim!

I love Jordan. Jordan first.

Abu Nateem

I go walking around haritna, our quarter of the neighborhood, with my Arabic mom and sisters. It's very refreshing. We always talk about the neighbors, and the weather, and say hello to the people we pass.

The other night, we went to Abu Nateem's store. Okay, so you can have some idea what harti is like...there are old apartment buidings, new apartment buildings, small stores called dukan, plural dakakeen, scattered randomly, some blocks with nothing but grass, and some blocks with "farms" growing. Hommous, etc.

Abu Nateem has a farm somewhere in the Irbid area, but he brings his stuff to this run down shack at one of the blocks with nothing but grass and hommous growing around it. I'm pretty sure the land around the shack is not his only "farm", but then again...you never know. The shack consists of random pieces of metal, rugs, and plywood tacked together to make a building.

"Does he LIVE there?" I asked my arabic mom, upon seeing it for the first time.
"No no no! Of course not, that's just his store."

There are people who live in tents by the side of the road here. There are people who don't even have houses. If was a real possibility that it could have been his house.

There are people in the States who live in very poor conditions, too. The difference is that I've never really been exposed to them back home.

Abu Nateem is about a thousand years old. He's a tiny man with a wrinkled, tan face and white hair. He wears the traditional Islamic dress-type thing, and a black and white hutta. He's amazing.

Fi a'anduk bazalla?
Eih?
FI...A'ANDUK...BAZALLA?
Na'am, na'am, fi a'andi batalla. Kam kilo biddik?
A'ashara, lo sama7t.
A'atara? Kam ita'a? Bateeblak bookra batalla kman!

Do you have any beans?
Wha??
DO YOU HAVE ANY BEANS?
Yeth, yeth, we have beanth. How many kiloth do you want?
Ten, please.
Ten? What time ith it? Tomorrow, I can get you thome more.

He's become a regular joke in our house, one of my dearest memories of Irbid. (His real name is Abu Naseem).

PS
Arabic may be hard, but I can succeed.