Category: Yemen

We talked about dowries some more yesterday and one of the women brought up an interesting point. She was in favor of dowries being as high as possible as a hedge against divorce. The idea is that if a guy hates his wife, he’ll think twice about divorcing her if he had to pay a really large amount. There really isn’t any stigma attached to a guy that is divorced, but divorced women live a shamed life. It’s unusual for a divorced women to be considered good marriage material, but it does happen… Anyway, a high dowry is one way for women to protect themselves here…

Tami and her teacher were having a conversation about the American election process. Her teacher finally asked her if she was nervous about what would happen after the election. “Well, no, it’ll be a relief getting W. out of there…”
“But what if he doesn’t want to give up power?”

Wow, just… wow. Not much shows the differences in our cultures better than that statement. While I guess in theory if the president has the backing of the military, he could ignore the elections and rule via martial law, I can’t think of any American that thinks that that scenario is even remotely likely. Her teacher was expecting, at the very least, riots and demonstrations. I think we had some demonstrations in the last two very close races, I can’t remember any actual riots. Plus, the candidates were not the ones behind those things, or even their parties. Political stability, respect for the rule of law, and a transparent election system may be the most important things that separate the US from Yemen. The respecting the rule of law bit is sorely missed here, many of the problems here would be at least minimized if not eliminated if the government would just follow the rules…

Anyway, in this light, I expect the election to be pretty dull, but at least it’s going to be a good race:-)

If I hear that Yemen is the “Ancestral home of Osama Bin Laden” one more time I am going to puke. This is one of the two phrases that always accompanies any mention of Yemen in the US press. The other phrase is “Site of the bombing of the USS Cole.” The Cole happened in 2000 and OSAMA WAS BORN IN SAUDI ARABIA!!! Sure, his father was born in Yemen, but so what? How come you never see, “Saudi Arabia, birthplace of Osama Bin Laden,” or even better yet, “Saudi Arabia, birthplace of more terrorists than you can shake a stick at…” Yeah, it’s fricking Saudi, not Yemen, Iran, Syria, Libya, or even Palestine, it’s Saudi fricking Arabia. Quit picking on Yemen, this place has enough problems, no need to saddle it with the responsibility of Osama too…

I sat in on another class today and they were discussing whether or not high dowries were a problem in Yemen. They all agreed that they could be, but they disagreed about what a good dowry was. The debate went back and forth, finally they asked me what I thought. I had no idea of course. There were a little surprised that there isn’t a dowry in the US (I didn’t have the heart to tell them that most of the world had given that up a long time ago…). I also tried to explain how horrified parents would be if a man offered to “buy” their daughter. The students didn’t relate at all of course. I did concede that the man usually has to buy a ring, usually with a diamond. That mollified them a little, but they were still a little confused. In hindsight, I should have emphasized how the parents really don’t have a say in the marriage in the US. Just one more cultural bump to deal with, I think my conversation class will emphasize the differences between what is acceptable to talk about in Yemen vs. the US. Wondering how much a man should pay for his bride in the US will get him, at the very least, condescending stares….

I got back to the new apartment without any trouble. I’ve mostly unpacked, but the place is a total mess right now. I was pleasantly surprised to find the apartment very clean and tidy when I got there, I have since spread my crap everywhere… The previous tenants left a bunch of stuff behind, some of it useful, and lots of it that wasn’t. There was a whole trunk of clothes left behind, all of which was too small for me. I put it out in a heap outside the gate, it took all of 10 minutes for it to be taken away. I’m sure that whoever took it will enjoy that stuff. The shower gets high marks from me, plenty of pressure. I also slept well, I don’t have a bed, but I do have a real mattress. The last place had a bed, but the mattress was so thin that I was effectively sleeping on plywood. My new place is, on the whole, quieter as well. I don’t have the traffic, kids playing right outside my window, or the trash truck to make lots of noise. That’s not to say that it’s perfectly quiet, this is Sana’a of course… The call to prayer is incredibly loud, there’s no sleeping through that one. I don’t know if the mosque is really close or if they’re just really loud, but wow… My neighbor has a rooster, I’ve been told that I’ll get used to that, but I’m not so sure.

Anyway, I’m happy to be in my place, I should have it organized soon.

I had a good time last, went over to Olga’s place and we chatted for hours. I met her in Yemen last year, so we had plenty of things to talk about. It ended up being largely a major bitch session…

“…can you believe that they’re like that?”
“..it was the most disgusting thing I ever saw.”
“… I mean God, how stupid can someone be?”
“… those poor women.”
“… the government is so screwed up…”
“… the men are clueless…”

and on and on until finally,

“(SIGH) I miss that place.”
quickly, “Me too!”

A tried and true maxim is that if you want to know what people really think, look at what they do and not what they say. In economics, it is called revealed preference, and it’s a powerful thing. Olga and I had plenty to complain about, but I’m going back for another year and she would love to go back for an extended time. Obviously Yemen is doing something right…

Tami and I were talking about teaching English here (she’s now a teacher as well) and we got onto the topic of inappropriate questions. The students obviously don’t think they’re out of place or being rude, but the questions they ask really grate on English speakers. The very first one, and one I still hear on almost a daily basis is the greeting, “What’s your name” It’s one thing to ask someone’s name after you have been talking for a while, but it always jars me a little when that is the first thing out of their mouth. I’ve started to ignore anyone that does that and will only respond when they go to an actual greeting like hello.

That’s fairly minor, but there’s lots of others. Many people want to practice their English with me on the street, the conversations are supposed to be small talk since they are complete strangers but they usually throw something out that disrupts the flow. The classic is “Are you a Muslim?” That’s not too bad really although it does seem a little personal so early in a conversation. It’s the follow up question that makes it difficult, things like, “Why not?” “When are you going to convert?” or even the statement, “You need to become muslim!” It’s a bit awkward and it effectively kills the conversation.

Other questions that catch me off guard are “How old are you?” and “Are you married?” “Why aren’t you married?” is the usual followup when I tell them that I’m not. It seems odd to ask how old someone is, especially when you first meet them, but no biggie. Even asking the marital status isn’t a big deal, but asking why someone isn’t married seems to be getting a little personal. What kind of answer are they expecting, something short like, “I never really thought about it?” It points to a basic difference between our culture and theirs. Getting married is a social thing here, usually arranged and it’s something that every guy, with enough money, goes through. It doesn’t occur to them that questions about voluntary relationships are just not asked between strangers.

The most curious question has to be, “What do you weigh?” I have no idea why people are interested in this, but I’ve been asked multiple times, as has Tami. Americans may be more sensitive about this than other people because we’re so fat, but I still am not quite sure why someone would want to know. It’s obviously a big thing here, there are innumerable kids with scales working the streets. For a couple of riyals, you can get weighed. I’ve done it myself several times, but that was mostly because I had lost a noticeable amount of weight and was curious. I don’t know what motivates people to ask about someone else’s weight over here.

Last week, the director of the school where I teach invited me to lunch. He said that “The Americans” would be coming and that I should come along. Err, OK, who are they? “They’re some Americans that come around and… you should come to lunch with us!” Ok, It didn’t seem as though I would be getting much info from him. A couple of days later, the principle asked if I was going to the lunch. “You should go, the Americans will be there.” Once again, who are they? “They come from the United States and do some things, I’m glad that you’ll get to meet them…”

I was mighty curious about who these people were, well yesterday I had lunch with them. It turns out that there’s an American here that runs some sort of aid/development company. Every so often, he goes home and organizes a trip for people that are interested in coming over here. This time it was a group of 10 or so from South Carolina. Most of them were between mid 50’s and mid 70’s I’d guess. It’s actually a good arrangement for everyone. They come and see the country a little bit, and then they go over to the school and they talk to the students. Of course the students enjoy talking to the Americans as well. Both sides get to learn about the other and the students get a real workout with their conversational abilities. Some of them had pretty strong South Carolina accents, I wonder how well the students coped with that…

One of the ladies belongs to a quilting club and she brought along a quilt to give to the director of the school for being so hospitable. I was really jealous, it was a beautiful quilt, and I’m not sure the director knew what to do with it or even what the significance of it was. I should try to explain to him what quilts like that are all about. If he still seems nonplussed, I’ll try to buy it from him:-)

Anyway, we were taken to the Green Land restaurant and we stuffed ourselves. It was a good time and they were really nice folks. Once again, if these people can come over here, I am positive that some of you can come over here. If this sort of thing (talking with the students) seems interesting, I can certainly arrange it along with seeing the sights. C’mon, it would be fun!

I signed the contract today and I will now officially have an apartment in January! I talked to the landlord briefly, we met in the apartment above mine. It had the area where the original fireplace/oven was and it had a room off the back for drawing water from the well. Turns out the building is over 300 years old! The United States didn’t even exist when this place was built… Anyway, it’s good to have taken care of that business. Coming back to Yemen will be much nicer knowing that I’ll be in my own place.

Walking down the street is a constant hassle here. In addition to the incessant honking and yelling, people seem to have an amazing ability to get in one’s way here. I may have figured out why…

Yemeni people are, by and large, very friendly and go out of their way to be nice to you. You wouldn’t know looking at the streets. Judging by how they drive, you would think that they are the biggest assholes on the planet. There is no flow, nobody seems to care about impeding other people, no one seems to care about improving the general flow of traffic, and the concept of obeying rules so that it benefits everyone is a totally foreign concept. It’s amazing to watch, if there’s a spot open, it is taken. The streets are 2 lanes across, it is common for them to spread out to 7 across while waiting for a light at a wide intersection here. The dabobs routinely use the oncoming lanes in order to get around traffic. I have been in many dabobs where we weren’t even in the nearest oncoming lane, but the far one and the driver had the balls to blow his horn at the oncoming traffic because they are in his way…

It’s really a classic “tragedy of the commons” problem. There is no concept of right of way, or how traffic should flow. If you come to an intersection, you stick your car into the first gap, no matter how many cars you stop or slow down. The basic idea is that they had better take the space before someone else does… Because no one “owns” any of the spaces in front of their car or in any lanes, total chaos is the result.

And it isn’t just cars, the pedestrians use the same technique. They waltz out into whatever space is there and don’t care if they force a dozen cars to stop. Intersections are a great place to congregate and to stop vehicles. It’s that love of filling space that made me think about my walking down the street problem. Inevitably, whenever I want to walk past someone, they drift right into where I am going to walk. Not to avoid anything, not to pass anything, but just to go there. Until now I had chalked it up to their innate ability to piss me off, but I think I see a pattern now. Many people seem to be drawn to open spaces. If you are walking down a sidewalk, many people wander from open space to more open space instead of following an unimpeded straight line. As I go to pass someone, I naturally go towards an open area to walk past them. They drift the same way and inevitably make me mutter many, many “F” bombs as I almost run into them. I’m trying a new technique, and it seems to be working. Now I pass on the tight side and let them wander off into the open area. I’m glad I figured this out, I’ve come very close to shoving someone into traffic as I scream, “Would you get the (hell) out of my way?!” What sometimes seems like a concerted effort to piss me off is usually just an odd (to me) habit. I’m not sure if this tendency points to any other, deeper issues, but my “Milty” sense is tingling (with apologies to both Stan Lee and Milton Freidman).