The Challenge of Orphans

One thing I learnt during my travels in Islamic countries is that the attitude to adoption is very different from that commonly found in westerns countries. Although the Quran clearly states that everyone should respect orphans and not steal their belongings, the Holy book also makes statements that imply that orphans are not really your children. Most likely as a result of this, it is not common to adopt children in Islamic countries. If a child is orphaned, he or she stays with the extended family. This family support system means that very rarely children are left without anybody. However, when this happens, family friends most often take the child under their wing. This is one major difference between the west and Islamic countries - the family network is generally much tighter.

One particular story stuck in my mind. we were visiting an old friend of my colleague for dinner. She was very kind to cook me a proper Arabic meal with their traditional foods. We were enjoying the chit chat, mainly about NGOs and development work in Jordan since this is the field that we were all working in. I was being educated on the situation of Palestinian and Iraqi refugees in Jordan when I asked about orphans. This questions was in my mind primarily because I had recently been to Kenya where they are thousands of orphans due to the high epidemic of HIV. 

‘Adopting is not common practice in Islamic countries’, our host explained. ‘Most Muslims want their biological children and don’t even consider adoption. Somehow they seem to think that an adopted child is really not your own. Even when you can’t have children.’

‘Why is that?’ I asked, somewhat surprised. At that point, I had not read the Quran. Sometime later when I did, I found some passages in the Holy book that could imply adopted children are not really your children. 

‘It says something about it in the Quran’, my colleague explained. ‘Their Holy book tells them to respect orphans and to help them, but at the same time states that they are not really your children.’

Yes’, our host continued to explain. ‘My brother and his wife couldn’t have their own biological child, yet they really wanted to start their own family. Since we are Christian, they started thinking about and considering adoption. Since Jordan is an Islamic country, there was no way for them to officially adopt here. They talked with different authorities, but it was just not possible or would have taken years and years. This is when we started helping him as a family. We started researching ways as to how to help them adopt and finally decided to do this in the black market. We found a person who helps orphaned children to find families. In the end, we could find a little boy to my bother and his wife. Now they are a very happy family of three.’

‘Oh’, I said in amazement. ‘Is there a black adoption market?’

‘Not as such, not a big one anyway’, our host elaborated. ‘There are some people around who help in this, but it is not common for people to seek adoption, as I explained. But if you ask around and get to know the right people, those children needing parents can find those adults wanting to be parents. It all comes together in the end.’

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More information on adoption laws in Jordan:

http://www.ilo.org/public/english/dialogue/ifpdial/info/national/jo.htm

 

 

         

The Japanese presence in Jordan

Before going to Jordan, I had no idea that the Japanese have a real presence in the country. A lot Japanese money is being invested into different projects there. You can see some their work even if you are not directly linked to their projects. For example, on top of the Mount Sinai, there is a restaurant complex over looking the Dead Sea, with a beautiful view of the scenery on the Jordanian side, leading to Bethlehem on the other side of the Sea. 

The Japanese Government has invested a great deal of effort and finances into developing Middle eastern region covering Jordan, Lebanon, Palestinian territories... Work is being undertaken in the areas of education, health, economics and health amongst others. It is inspiring and satisfying to see so much work being commissioned by a government from half way across the world. As my Japanese colleague put it, sometimes richness does indeed help if it is used beneficially for those less fortunate. 

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   More information on the presence of the Japanese in Jordan, please see:

http://www.jordan.emb-japan.go.jp/site_map.htm#Japan_&_Jordan      

The Ancient Petra

There is a magical feeling in Petra. The place radiates history and stories from the past. It is a treasure of the ancient world. Arabs built the city more than 2000 years ago. As you walk through the ancient town, you see a number of buildings carved in rock. There are caves, pathways with high stone walls, sand trails for horses, hidden palaces with mandala paintings. It truly is a city to explore by following the rather eerie narrow ally ways inside the rocks. 

There is something very special about Petra. Even if you are not a historian, you can enjoy the atmosphere and the beauty of it. The only downside to it is that the place is packed with tourists. Another piece of advice is that you will walk a lot when you explore Petra. Area-wise the ancient city is not very large, but since it was build in and on rocks, walking around involves a lot of climbing. The climbing way also cause you to feel dizzy due to altitude changes. Not to worry - you can always relax and regain energy in any of the Arab style cafes spread around Petra.         

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Here is a useful site for anyone hoping to visit Petra:

http://www.atlastours.net/jordan/petra.html

         

 

The magic of the Dead Sea

I have never seen anything like it in my life - dozens of people floating in the sea, looking calm and relaxed as they let the minerals from the Dead Sea penetrate their skin. From the road higher up on a hill, the people looked tiny. It looked like as if a boat had had an accident and the passengers had ended up in the sea. 

As we approach the holiday resort by the sea, we could see Bethlehem on the other side of the sea. According to Christians, Jews and Muslims, we were in a very Holy part of the world. Shortly before, we had driven over the Sinai mountain, on which Moses is believed to have died. The trip from Amman to the Dead Sea passed a number of religious sites. We had stopped at one, at the Jordan river, in which Jesus is believed to have been baptized. The security in the area had been very tight. We were escorted in a group that was not allowed to disperse even the slightest bit. The two guides had been extremely strict about this. After visiting the church in which the baptism ceremony of Jesus had been conducted, we got the river. The river was surprisingly narrow - the side of Israel was only a few metres away. On both banks, you could see military personnel with guns, guarding their land and ensuring that no trespassers were allowed to get over the border without their permission. Our group left the site with bottles of Holy Water from the river. 

Arriving to the Dead Sea Resort was a total contrast to this experience. The resort was full of happy tourist, enjoying the beach and the restaurants and bars that the resort contained. Even Muslim women were sun bathing and swimming in the sea, covered in their Halal swimming suits that did not expose any of their flesh. Westerners were digging up the mud from the sea and spreading it all over their bodies. 

For some, arriving in Jordan meant arriving in their religious paradise; for some, it meant arriving in their holiday heaven.

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For anyone interested in visiting the Dead Sea, here is a useful link:

http://www.moevenpick-hotels.com/en/pub/your_hotels/worldmap/dead_sea/overview.cfm       

         

 

 

   

           

             

   

Checkpoint and more checkpoints

The distance between Amman and Aqaba by the Red Sea is not that much. In theory, you should be able to drive down in a couple of hours. In practice, it takes you at least four hours. The main reason for the longer time is that there are hundred of check points on the roads leading south. The closer you drive the to Israeli border, the more check points will want you to stop so that they can search your car.

Stopping at check points is routine for anyone who lives in Jordan or is a regular visitor. The check point personnel stop all cars, no matter where the sticker on your car states that you are from. They ask you questions relating to your trip, work and personal details. They search your car, including the boot, and x-ray it thoroughly. During the process, the personnel maintain a very serious face and avoid eye-contact. Finally, the give you a hand signal that means that you can proceed with your trip.

When you are driving next to the Israeli border, check points are more frequent. There are also watch towers on the border, facing Jordan. The highway from Amman to the south is straight, right next to the border line, with another highway right on the other side of the border on the side of Israel. As you drive along, you can clearly see cars on the Israeli side. This proximity is contradictory to how hard it is to cross the border. You are so close, yet so far. One could try to run across the border, it would only take seconds. But it would also mean that a bullet would be fired at you. 

Experiences like these give us Westerners a better way of understanding how it is when you are scrutinized for no reason, when you are held at a check point without any concrete evidence, how you are treated as if you are a criminal when you are not. It makes it easier for us to empathize with those who face such treatment on a daily basis. 

    

         

 

 

Chill Out Aqaba

Aqaba has a very distinct atmosphere to Amman. It is a town by the Red Sea, in the south of Jordan. It has a port, beaches, surfing and scuba diving centres. It is the ultimate holiday destination. As soon as you enter the city, you can smell the sea and hear the sea gulls. 

Amman is located on a hilly area, with the latitude being higher than the souther parts of Jordan. At the point of Dead Sea, the altitude is already significantly lower, evidenced by the blocked ears and slight feeling of dizziness associated with the drive down from Amman. By the time you reach the Red Sea, you are below the neutral point. Some people need a little time to get used to the altitude changes that can cause dizziness, nausea and headaches. 

I personally had a permanent headache the entire time I was in Amman. Prone to headaches, this is how my body reacted to being in a  higher altitude. When I was in Aqaba, my headache was gone. I certainly felt the dizziness and light-headedness on the way there, but like a miracle, it was all gone by the time I saw the bright blue sea.

Aqaba was famous for its hotels, restaurants, cafes and bars. It was also famous for cheap shopping. The city centre consisted of different bazaars, each selling food and goods. Apparently, much of these products were much easier to find in Aqaba  than elsewhere in Jordan and they were much cheaper. A number of families and business made special trips to Aqaba in order to do cheap shopping. Nuts and blankets were Aqaba’s specialty. Since many tourists came to Aqaba for holidays, in particular of younger generation, there were more liquor stores around the city than in Amman. 

After checking into our small cozy hotel, my colleagues decided to go to a local scuba diving centre. They were both fond of the activity and didn’t have a chance to do it in Amman. I went along but decided to stay at the pool and the beach since I did not have any experience in scuba diving. 

The diving centre was a calm oasis next to the buzzling city centre. Chill out music was playing in the background and there were deck chairs out on the pool side. There was a cozy little bar and restaurant next to the pool. The staff were friendly and welcoming. It really felt like I had entered paradise. 

I went to walk by the sea. There many tourists lying on the beach, sun bathing and dipping into the sea once in a while. I could see Eilat of Israel on the other side of the sea. 

One of the diving instructors walked over to talk to me. 

‘This is why I love it here. The sea, the sand, the nature... the atmosphere heals you. Once you have lived here, it is hard to live in a city far away from the sea.’ 

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Anyone interested in visiting Aqaba, see this site:

         

 

Ramadan in Jordan

The first tie that I truly experience Ramadan, the Holy Month of Muslims, I was in Jordan. It was clearly a month of reflection, celebration and appreciation. As a Jordanian young man put it, it was a month for soul-searching, a time for thanking God for all that one had in one’s life and a period for personal growth. This was reflected in the general atmosphere of Amman and the whole of Jordan. 

A couple of days before Ramadan started, we saw special Ramadan foods being sold at the busy bazaars of Amman. There were special dates and pastries. People were excited to see these foods that they had not eaten since the previous Ramadan. A Christian lady who worked for the NGO that I was volunteering for told with, with a wide smile on her face: ‘It is so great that you can experience Ramadan here in an Islamic country. Even me as a Christian a excited about it. We get all these special foods that we only get to eat during Ramadan. In my house, we also gather and eat them in the evenings. Though we don’t celebrate Ramadan as such, the month does give us more time to be together as a family and to see our friends.’ 

Muslims aspire to follow their Prophet Mohammad in all that they do. One habit that the Prophet had was to eat dates and drink milk, which is why Muslims tend to break their fast after a long day with these two refreshments before eating anything else. After the date and the milk, people would eat as much as they possibly good. They would break their fast with family and friends. No one wanted to do that alone. The meal times were highly appreciated.

If you went to a restaurant at the time when people broke their fast, you would see people gathering mountains and mountains of food in front of them and then attacking the mountains when they heard the prayer call from the mosque and they knew that they were allowed to eat. For us observes the sight was incredible - people eating as if they had not seen food for years. My Japanese colleague told me that that sort of defeated the purpose. The main idea behind the fast was to build self-control, discipline and appreciation of the food and water that one normally had in one’s life. This habit of eating mountains of food afterwards seemed to counteract the purpose of fasting.

During Ramadan, we were not allowed to eat or drink out on the streets. Not even to drink water in the beaming sun. The office was also a no food and no drink zone. Even if you were not a Muslim, you should respect their Holy Month. Working hours during Ramadan were shorted to half a day. This made people more productive and did not tired them as much. More importantly, this gave time for people to go to the mosque for prayers and to spend time in quiet contemplation. It also gave people more time to spend with the family and loved ones. 

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For more information on Ramadan, see this link:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/schools/religion/islam/ramadan.shtml

 

 

The Rhythm in the Darkness

While I worked for the Iraqi refugee education centre in Amman, one thing that really struck me was the liveliness of the people there. Everyone was busting with energy and willing to share it with others through dance, drumming, games or any other activity that could be done in a group. There is one particular occasion that I still think about, more than two years after returning to London...

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It was another hot and sunny day. We had just finished a music workshop with the teachers that I was training that week. It was the time of Ramadan and everyone was feeling the effect of it. The heat combined with no water and food during the day was making us feel lethargic. We were slumbering down the stairs when we heard it - the music, laughter and clapping. As we descended to the ground floor, it was louder and louder. 

‘Sounds like someone is having a part’, one of the teachers remarked. We looked at one another and smiled. It was such a relieving feeling to hear these kids who had gone through some much in their young lives to be so happy. 

The door to the classroom at the front of the building was slightly ajar. We peaked into it and we greeted by an intensified sound of cheers and singing. Someone tapped me on my shoulder. It was the centre manager.

‘It is the birthday of one of the boys’, he explained with laugher in his eyes. ‘The others organized a surprise party to him. He has never before properly celebrated his birthday, but now that he is an orphan, we thought that it would be a great chance for him to do that.’

Me and the group of teachers standing behind me were mesmerized by the sight. A group of boys were standing on a table. They were belly dancing to the music played by their peers on the drums. The rest of the children were dancing on the floor next to the table and clapping to cheer the boys on. In the corner of the room, the teachers of the centre were cutting a cake. This would be the first birthday cake the boy had seen in his life. 

The laugher, singing and clapping of the children was getting louder and louder by the minute. I can honestly say that I hadn’t seen children as cheerful as that in a long time. The teachers and I sat down and were merged in watching the children. 

Then, it was all dark. The electricity had gone off. Power cuts were common in Jordan in the summer. Too many people using air conditioning at the same time. 

There was a silence for a moment. The children stopped playing their instruments, stopped dancing and clapping. Then, as if they all had the same internal clock, they all started their music again, exactly at the same time. There was laugher again and the eternal beating of the drum, in the darkness. 

After an hour or so, when the light was one again, the teachers put the birthday cake into plastic bags and gave a piece to each child.

‘When you have iftar once the sun goes down, eat your cake’, the teachers would say to each child. Even on your birthday, you would need to follow the fasting since it was Ramadan.    

 

‘Ruined’ at the Almeida Theatre

The Almeida Theatre in Islington is staging a play about human right abuses and conflict the civil war-torn Congo. The play has been directed with great skill - it makes you reflect on the situation in the country through its vivid narrative that focusses on women in the Congo and their struggle in a country where sexual violence is used as a weapon. The play is dense at times, but it is cleverly lightened up with touches of humour. A Must See if you are in London!

http://www.amnesty.org.uk/events_details.asp?ID=1502

   

The Music Shop Man

Ali loved his music shop. He had been running it for the past 6 months, half of the time that he had been resident in Amman. The flutes, violins, keyboard and ouds that he had in his shop were beautiful and sounded even more beautiful. What a feeling to walk into the shop in the morning and to look at all these beautiful creations.

Ali had spoken to his aunt the night before. She was still in Baghdad, from where Ali had left one year ago, as a result of intensified conflict and fearing for his life. Some of his family was still there, fearing for their lives day after day. His brother was in Denmark with his family and his sister was in the UK. The other brother had died in a bomb blast the year before. Sometimes at night, Ali could still hear the sires, the gun fire and the sound of the military planes circling above Baghdad. 

Ali’s aunt had sounded gloomy and desperate. There had been another raid at the houses on their street. The raids were carried out by the Iraqi military officials. They were looking for money and other goods that they could sell to the American and British troops. People were afraid to open their doors, as loud knocks usually meant that someone was going to take your last possessions and you were left with next to nothing. Some people had even been forced to leave their houses and they faced danger on the restless streets that were clouded by violence. Too many women and children had been raped that way, too many men killed and too many individuals been taking captive and forced to carry out suicide attacks. 

Ali sat down on his desk and poured himself a cup of strong Arabic tea. He had been a professor of Physics at the University of Baghdad for the past fifteen years. He had throughly enjoyed teaching his students and missed being in the lecture hall. He missed the intellectual stimulation and the feeling of helping others, above all. 

What a different lifestyle that had been! Not that he had anything to complain about. Here in Amman, he had security, he was safe; he had some students and his shop. He had a lovely house with his children. He wished that his wife was here to see it; see how far they had come to build a peaceful and wonderful life. He wished more than anything that his wife would not have been killed in one of the many attacks targeted at the parliamentary buildings in Baghdad. Oh, how he wishes that.

When they arrive in Amman, things had been a little tricky. It took time to sort out housing, enroll the children at school, find work. They had initially stayed with friends who had been so kind and understanding. Ali prayed for them every day. Him and his family had been lucky to have these friends here, otherwise everything would have been much harder and they would have had to stay a a refugee camp. Conflict and difficulties did indeed bring people together. 

The bell at the door rang. Ali looked up and saw a smily face behind the glass door. It was his first customer for the day. Ali smiled back, got up and opened the door.

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  For more information on Iraqi refugees in Amman, Jordan:

http://www.theirc.org/news/iraqi-refugees-jordan-slate-4210

A Letter to Some Man...

Here are some selected poems and pieces of creative writing that are a product of a writing workshop series at the Migrants Resource Centre (Victoria, London) whom I volunteered for last year - all of these are written by migrants:

You Carry by Michael Tesfamariam

You carry with you all the glory and the beauty of the world. My eyes wide opened I stayed fixed on you. For a moment, rather an eternity - for I have lost all notion of time, your world was the only thing that the windows of mind, my eyes, allowed. 

      The glittering city was for you like the stars to the moon. You moved but I stayed inert.

Suddenly, the gentle touch of someone on the street woke me up from my dream. 

Trees by Joao Da Silva

When the men decided to destroy most of the beautiful trees (god regretted) 'Why did I make these guys?'

    We have tricks to make fun and God knows but he cannot believe.

We use the trees to make a house, to cross the highest river by chips, and to make million things and God just looks.

    We think that we are strong when we use the machine to cut the trees and god believes.

Years go and come but the bible still says 'stop and worship me'. 

    Without an instrument we are weaklings.

'Can I cut one more tree, please? Just to make a guitar for my spirit to be happy.' 

    And God sits down on his throne and says 'I am tired.'

The Day Before by Pierangelo Vidotto

I'm sitting beside his bed in a very comfortable chair. I have to stay there for a long time. 

    I'm holding his wet and cold hand. Our arms, along his side, are placed on a coarse fabric.

He is singing aloud in this silent white hospital room. War songs from his comradeship during the Second World War and often sung, in friendly meetings, with many drinks.

   On this night the other sufferers can't sleep and they as themselves why I'm not trying to silence him.

I can't stop his last voice, it is his way to say goodbye to this real world. 

Downtown Amman

The city centre of Amman reminds me of South Asian towns. Its main features are small old buildings clouded in dust, narrow streets, noisy bazaars and a mosque in the centre of it all. There are hundreds of people there at any time of the day; earlier in the day one can see housewives and servants doing their daily shopping, later on the evening men come there to socialize and all the cafes and restaurants begin to be filled with people. The city centre does not cover much more than a couple of blocks, but it has a lot of character is much different from the other parts of Amman that are more modern with new white houses, chain shops and fast-food restaurants. 

Amman has grown a great deal over the past decade. It is the hub for business and companies. Many Jordanians move there for work or for studies. In addition, there are a number of immigrants from Palestine, Iraq and other neighbouring countries living here. Yet, Amman is a very pleasant city and there are considerably few problems with crime despite the number of people living there. 

‘Let’s go to the oldest and the most famous cafe in Amman’, Akiko said and took me by my arm. Akiko was my host during my stay in Amman. She was a remarkable lady. She had worked for the Japanese Government and different UN sections for a number of years. Previously, she had been placed on the Fiji Island and in Indonesia before discovering the Middle East. Akiko was very passionate about helping refugees in this part of the world, in particular Palestinians who had suffered for so many years.

Up-beat Arabic music was flooding out of the cafe as we approached it. The cafe was spread on two floors, with a beautiful wooden balcony on the second floor. As we walked in, we could see belly dancers at the back of the first floor section. Customers were sitting on huge colorful pillows on the floor in front of the belly dancers, smoking the sisha water pipes and cheering on. We walked up to the second floor and for a place by the window, sitting on beautiful Arabic pattered pillows and Syrian wooden chairs. 

‘I can tell you what is really god here’, Akiko started to explain as we took the menus.’ You should try all the traditional food here, a this is the best place in Amman for it.’

I started reading the menu. My basic Arabic skills were enough to understand most of it.

‘Let’s order the okra dish with tomato’, Akiko pointed to the menu. ‘And the cheese pies. And the couscous with the mixture of Arabic spices. Oh, you should definitely try the lemon juice with mint. That is specialty here. You know, we can only get non-alcoholic beers since we are in an Islamic country.’

‘Yes, I know’, I smiled. ‘My host family are Christian and they already asked me to go with them to the liquor store one day so that they can get some wine with my passport.’ 

Akiko laughed. ‘This is one of the tricky things here for people who are used to drinking. It is expensive and difficult to get alcohol. A lot of people buy it when they travel abroad or when they go to Aqaba, the seaside town. Over there, shop owners are more relaxed and flexible. They are more likely to sell to people. Then all you have to do is to smuggle them back to Amman!’

Our food arrived. It was so tasty that my first proper night in Amman really made me look forward to the rest of my stay here. 

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Anyone travelling to Amman, here is a useful link:

http://www.visitjordan.com/MajorAttractions/Amman/tabid/64/Default.aspx

      

             

   

'Chicken Soup for the Soul' by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen

A bunch of motivating stories to inspire you and to actively seek your goals in life: 

http://www.chickensoup.com/

Teachers teaching the teachers

The teachers were gathering in the big room that I was going to hold my workshop in. I had flown to Amman, Jordan, for two weeks in order to train teachers working for different NGOs in the city. Initially, the plan was that I train teachers who worked for educational centres for Iraqi refugees, but the centre manager had advertised the workshops to teachers based at other educational centre as well, which meant that the workshop room was pretty busy by the time I got through the heavy traffic and crazy driving of Amman. 

I sat on a chair in front of the participants and introduced myself. The fans that surrounded us were making a buzzing sound. The mid-summer heat had reached us and even the concrete walls of the building did not block the heat out.

‘We have a series of workshops coming up’, I explained to the group. ‘In each one, we focus on different music and art activities that can be used in the classroom to facilitate the learning of our students. Today we will look at singing and clapping games and how these can be used as an alternative teaching method in teaching any subject.’

I looked around the room. Some of the teachers were older men, appearing to feel slightly apprehensive about having a young female workshop leader. Others were younger ladies wearing the hijabs and black clothes. The rest were women who covered their whole body and men who were dressed in jeans and T-shirts. One could write an ethnographic study just on the basis of what the participants were wearing. 

‘I would also like each one of you to contribute’, I said in clear English in order for most of them to understand. Luckily I had been assigned an English-Arabic translator who was doing a marvelous job. ‘This is a workshop and a space for all of us to learn from one another, to share ideas and to improve all of our work for the benefit of others.’

The group looked around at each other and they all started smiling. This is a response I often got in countries where the traditional teacher-student relationship was still very much in place. Participants and learners were not used being a more integral part of a workshop or lesson. Generally, participants thoroughly enjoyed this way of sharing of their experiences and felt like they could really contribute towards something valuable.

We started off our session with a song game that was fun and could easily be used in a number of educational settings, with children from various backgrounds. As soon as we started the game, everyone joined in very happily. Even the ladies wearing the hijab joined in laughing and talking with everyone else. The game and the music made everyone feel relaxed and the whole workshop turned out to be a success. Any doubts about my own ability to engage the teachers or any doubts about the participants’ being able to enjoy the sessions were dissolved. 

In the end of the session, we were all given a snack and juice by the centre manager. We sat in a circle on the floor. One of the elderly male teachers spoke after a while.

‘We are really blessed to have this opportunity to be here. Day in and day out, we teach children, we try to make a difference to others, we try to be there and encourage them through their difficult times and to build a future for themselves. But every rarely do we have an opportunity to grow as teachers, to learn new things to do with our pupils, to encourage growth in ourselves in order to encourage growth in others. very rarely do we have opportunity to talk with others doing the same job in different locations. It is really not easy being a teacher for refugee children, to help them day in and out, to try to make them see the value of building a life for themselves.’

We all nodded in agreement. All the people sitting in this room were doing a tough job and not getting much recognition for it.

‘Thank you giving us this opportunity’, another male teacher said and looked at me. ‘We will all go away as better people and this will be reflected in the pupils that we teach.’

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Relief International conducts workshops in teacher training and educational development in various countries. See website for more information: 

http://www.ri.org/program3.php

             

   

‘In This World’ by Michael Winterbottom

‘In This World’ is a touching real-life story about two young Afgan refugees who leave their refugee camp in Peshawar, north-west Pakistan, and embark on a dangerous journey towards London where they hope to claim asylum. They travel on land, making their way through Iran and Turkey before being put into a locked container on a ship heading to Italy. Throughout their journey, the youngsters rely on human traffickers and smugglers. In the end, one of the youngsters dies on the ship due to suffocation. The other one finally makes it to London where his asylum is declined and he is asked to leave the country on the day before he turns 18. 

Throughout the trip, the lives of the two young men are totally at the hands of others. When one watched the journey that they make, one can’t help but wonder what it takes to want to get away from in order to take the risks that the boys take while hoping for a better life and future.

The film is heart-breakingly beautiful with its elegant footage of the natural beauty of South Asia and the Middle East. Michael Winterbottom has yet again managed to pull together a masterpiece. 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/In_This_World     

   

‘In This World’ by Michael Winterbottom

‘In This World’ is a touching real-life story about two young Afgan refugees who leave their refugee camp in Peshawar, north-west Pakistan, and embark on a dangerous journey towards London where they hope to claim asylum. They travel on land, making their way through Iran and Turkey before being put into a locked container on a ship heading to Italy. Throughout their journey, the youngsters rely on human traffickers and smugglers. In the end, one of the youngsters dies on the ship due to suffocation. The other one finally makes it to London where his asylum is declined and he is asked to leave the country on the day before he turns 18. 

Throughout the trip, the lives of the two young men are totally at the hands of others. When one watched the journey that they make, one can’t help but wonder what it takes to want to get away from in order to take the risks that the boys take while hoping for a better life and future.

The film is heart-breakingly beautiful with its elegant footage of the natural beauty of South Asia and the Middle East. Michael Winterbotton has yet again managed to pull together a masterpiece. 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/In_This_World     

   

Happy Chaos in Amman

From outside, the building looked like an ordinary warehouse. The windows were small and the grey walls reflected the light of the beaming sun. The gravel on the road leading up the building made a creaky sounds. As soon as the car stopped by the building, the main door swung open. A group of Iraqi children ran out singing and jumping. Soon after, an elderly man stepped out and shouted something in Arabic to the children. They immediately ran back in the house.

‘This is one of our main centre’, Roya started to explain. She was a member of staff at the NGO that  was doing some consultancy work for in Amman, Jordan. ‘We have two main ones in Amman. One is this one where were teach about 200 Iraqi refugee children. The other one is located on the other side of Amman. That one is a smaller centre. Over there, we teach about 80 children. Let’s go inside so that I can show you the whole centre.’

We got off the car and walked to the backside entrance. It faced a small yard. On this side of the building, the walls were painted with bright colours. 

‘We had a painting day the other day’, Roya said when she noticed me looking at the walls. ‘We try to let the children make the centre their own. You know, when you come as a refugee, you have left everything behind. So at least this way we can try to help them build their lives here and see this centre as something that belongs to them as well.’

I nodded. I was trying to imagine what these children had been through in the war, but I knew that my imagination could only tell me a part of the whole story.

The centre seemed as small inside as it had seemed outside. Even though it was spread on three floors, each room seemed to be used to its maximum benefit. Most of the time, the rooms functioned as classrooms and afterwards as spaces for extra curricular activities. There was also a separate library room, a room for the social services and another room for a nurse. 

‘We need to have a health professional here as many of the refugees don’t have a refugee status yet and so don’t have access to health services here in Jordan’, Royal shook her head. ‘Many families that we provide services for have been in this situation for so long. They are forced to move their lives into a different country, yet they have to wait for an official status for a long time. They can try to use the health services here, but they are often turned away on the grounds that they are not paying any tax for Jordan. It is the same for Palestinian refugees before they get their official status.’ 

We descended to the ground floor after our tour and sat down to drink some Arabic mint tea. A couple of the teachers sat down with us.

‘Soon Ramadan will start’, one of them said and they all smiled. Ramadan was the Holy month for Muslims and a much look forward to time of the year in Islamic countries.

Roya sipped her tea. ‘We also need social services, because many of these refugee families are not familiar with the legal system here and they need help with sorting out their paperwork. Sometimes they also have problems within the family or because they feel isolated here. Like, we have helped alcoholics a couple of times and abusive parents.’

‘What about formal schooling?’ I asked. 

‘That is another huge obstacle’ Roya shook her head. ‘If a child has been out of formal school for longer than two years, they can’t enroll at a national school here in Jordan. This is often the case with refugees. They are living in unstable conditions or on the run for quite sometime before coming here that many of their children have been out of school for a long time.’

One of the teachers also shook his head. ‘This is the primary reason for our centre to exist. We started up this centre in order to provide education for those refugees who cannot attend the regular schools here. We give them the chance to catch up on their education and then, in a couple of years’ time, they can enroll in the national system, subsequently enter university or what they wish to do.’

‘Oh, I didn’t know they had these strict regulations regarding formal schooling’, I said, surprised.

‘Yes, unfortunately refugees often suffer much more than we can even imagine’, Roya sighed as she took the final sip of her tea. 

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For more information on the education system and regulations, check this website:

http://education.stateuniversity.com/pages/750/Jordan-EDUCATIONAL-SYSTEM-OVERVIEW.html          

   

'The Ultimate Happiness Prescription - 7 Keys to Joy and Enlightenment' by Deepak Chopra

Deepak Chopra is known in the West for writing about the spiritual dimension of our lives in an accessible way. 'The Ultimate Happiness Prescription - 7 keys to Joy and Enlightenment' is yet another eyes-opening read that is suitable for anyone seeking to be in touch with their real self. 

http://www.randomhouse.com/catalog/display.pperl/9780307704566.html

Iraqi refugees in Amman

Before I went to Jordan, I never knew how many Iraqi refugees fled there when the war erupted in their country. There are hundreds, or even thousands, of them. They have found refuge in this neighbouring country that is much more accepting of Iraqis and that has throughout the years accommodated thousands of Palestinians. 

The migration policies of Jordan have been much more open and less prejudiced  than those of a number of its neighbouring countries. Jordan has granted citizenship to a significant number of refugees. Jordan has been the only country in the Middle East to openly accept asylum applications and to help out those suffering in conflict, of human rights issues and fearing for their own lives. 

On one of the first days of my stay in Amman, we drove past the refugee camps for the Palestinians. These were located in the outskirts of the city, surrounded by fences that had gates for exits in places. As I peaked through one of the gates, I could see apartment buildings crammed into small blocks, with tiny supermarkets on the ground floor and living space above them. I could see people walking about, engaged in their daily business; children running about, flying kites. If you took a photo of the scene and showed it to someone in the UK, they would not believe that the photo was from a Palestinian camp in Amman. The photo would resemble their own lives too much.

Anyone that I meet in Jordan tells me that it is the money that Jordan has and the political relations that they hope to keep in good condition that have determined the open policies towards migration. Jordan has always sought to maintain good relations with western countries and to distribute its money in a more equal way in order for its citizens to remain satisfied with their Royal Family and their politicians. 

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For more information on Jordan and refugees, check this link:

http://www.humanrightsfirst.org/asylum/lifeline/pages.asp?country=iq&id=8&misc1=facts_country 

From the South to the Middle and to the West

Having travelled in different South Asian countries, in the Middle East and in Africa, I have become sensitive and accustomed to different cultural norms and ways of living. Yet, what strikes me the most is the innate human nature that seems to underlie all human existence. Whether you are in a desert in Jordan encountering a bedouine, in the Himalayas in Nepal with a Buddhist monk or in the jungle in Kenya with a local farmer, the human contact that you are experiencing has the same essence as anywhere in the world. 

In today’s society, we are accustomed to identifying a particular place as our home, we develop a sense of belonging to this place and differentiate between ourselves and other accordingly. We talk about cultural differences, how we do things in a certain country or region, how such cultural and societal conditioning shapes us into who we are. Yet, we often neglect the similarities we have with our fellow human-beings. 

As I embarked on my journey from South Asia to the Middle East and Africa, I could not help but reflect on the innate human nature that has intrigued us for a number of years. It seemed that there really was something significant and strong within all of us that bound us together as the human race. 

----------------------------------------------------

Plato, Aristotle, Rousseau and other philosophers have written about the topic extensively. Check out their work if you are as intrigued by humans as I am! 

‘The Family Way’ by Tony Parsons

This is yet another easy-to-read book by Tony Parsons. The book deals with family issues in the modern society: what is considered a family nowadays; does the concept of nuclear family still apply today; what does it mean to be a single parent; is it better for a child if their parents stick together or divorce when they are unhappy.... 

There is something for everyone in the book. Whether you are a single parent, in a stable relationship, wondering whether to stay or to go, the book will offer you a place for reflection. It is a relaxing, light and fun book yet makes you think of modern society and families today.

http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/books/reviews/the-family-way-by-tony-parsons-552489.html  

‘Amandla! a Revolution in Four-Part Harmony’

‘Amandla! a Revolution in Four-Part Harmony’ is a touching film about the apartheid times in South Africa. It is a very powerful realistic description of the lives of blacks and whites living in the society at the time. The main focus of the film, however, is the power and use of music in the Revolution Movement. 

Throughout the film, different songs used in the Revolution are presented and their origins explained. The songs are based on a typical African four-part harmony and sang by the blacks as they start to rebel against the apartheid. The film illustrates how music gave energy and will to the people, how it united them and how the people felt that the songs were an effective medium in getting their voices heard in fighting against the whites. The are instances in the film that highlight how white politicians were deeply affected by the lyrics of the songs and how some freedom fighters who wrote the songs were consequently imprisoned or even hanged. 

The film is more of a documentary than a film. A number of well-regarded South African musicians, actors and actresses, politicians and freedom fighters feature. Nelson Mandela is portrait as their hero. They all talk about the realities of the those times from their own perspectives, but also by reflecting on the wider political picture. The film starts off from a time before the apartheid, follows the implementation of the racial policies, the beginning of the Revolution movement and leads us to see the liberation of the blacks.  

This film really opens one’s eyes to the cruel realities of the apartheid and how it affected the lives of millions of people. For anyone interested in knowing more about it, check this site: 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amandla!

Bullet Point

‘You were lucky’, the doctor said as he faced Om. ‘You could have died. The bullet went through some very important tissue matter and ligaments. If it had gone through even a couple of millimetres to the right of the mark, it could have gone through your heart.’

Om was lying down on the hospital bed. He couldn’t say anything to the doctor. The shock of what had happened was just too much to take in and maintain one’s stride. Instead, he just nodded and look sternly in the eyes of the doctor. 

‘Now you need to stay here for a couple of weeks. We need to tend to your wounds, change the bandage regularly and you need bed rest. Do you have a health insurance?’ The doctor was flicking through a pile of papers as he spoke. He looked up.

‘No’, Om said, simply. 

Why would or could he have a heath insurance? The government hospitals were all that most Nepali people could afford as they cost next to nothing. If you knew someone working at the hospital, you could get all treatment for free; no need for health insurance that was too much for most people to afford anyway. Private hospitals were just too expensive. Their primary clientele were foreigners living in Nepal. What these private hospitals charged for one visit was more than an average Nepali person earned in a month.

Om lay in silence on the bed. It had been a regular outing on the motorbike. He had gone to see his cousin who lived on the other side of Kathmandu. He was on his way back home. It had just gone dark. He was driving along on one of the high ways that cut across Kathmandu. All of a sudden, there was one motorbike on his left side, and another one on his right side. They seemed to be competing against one another. Then, all she could remember was feeling a sharp pain and falling off the bike. The next thing he knew was that he was lying on the hospital bed. 

Apparently a car had stopped after Om had been lying on the road for twenty minutes. He had been unconscious and no one else had had the courage to stop, as the two motorbikes riding alongside him were politicians belonging to two different parties. They were sorting out their differences by trying to shoot the other one down. Unfortunate to Om, he had happened to be in the middle of their sorting out and now he was the one in hospital with a deep bullet wound. The doctor had operated him immediately and removed the bullet. Om winched with pain as he tried to move position. 

‘Well then, this is going to be an expensive trip for you’, the doctor seized him up. ‘Would you rather take out a loan for this or get treated somewhere else?’

‘Would it be ok if I call my wife?’ Om asked in response. 

‘Of course, let me get you a phone’, the doctor said.

Om tried to sit up upright. How cheap was human life, he thought. If you could not afford to pay for the medical service, they would just let you drop dead rather than invest even one penny into you. 

A nurse appeared carrying a phone. Om dialed his phone number. His wife answered. She started crying as she heard Om’s voice. ‘Where have you been? I have been so worried!’ She was shrieking. 

‘I am in the hospital, but I am fine. I had a minor accident. I have been treated and I am fine.’ Om was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince his wife. ‘Can you come and get me home? I need bed rest for some days. I should not do any physical exercise for some time.’ 

As he lay on the bed waiting for his wife to come and get him home, the nurse walked in and handed the bill to Om. It was as much as the monthly salary of him and his wife put together. And they were both teacher earning a decant salary. What would people do who didn’t have even half of what they had?

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For more information on the pubic health system Nepal see this link:

http://www.searo.who.int/EN/Section313/Section1523_6866.htm

          

   

 

Can I take you anywhere?

I looked across the road. It was so narrow that two cars were not able to pass one another without touching. This is how all the streets and roads in Nepal seemed to be. Even on the mountains one had to hold one’s breath in tight curves and hope that no other vehicle coming from the opposite direction would cross your path. 

‘Oh there he is’, I waved at the tiny car parked across the river. The driver waved back and drove along the bridge to where I was standing with my two colleagues. We climbed into the car. 

‘We are going to Patan’, my Spanish colleague Diego said in a cheerful voice to the driver. ‘We want to see the square there with all the temples and also the museum.’ 

‘Very nice’, the driver said and smiled his broad smile. ‘You all going there?’

We all nodded. The car shook and so we were on our way.

After a long silence, during which we were absorbed in the natural beauty of Nepal, the driver spoke. ‘Many people come to Nepal. They love the nature. They love the beauty of the mountains. They love the spiritual lifestyle. They love the people. Nepali people are very friendly. Where are you from?’

‘ I am from Spain’, Diego clarified. ‘Petra here is from Israel and Tiija lives in London.’

‘Oh London’, the driver grinned. ‘I love British people. Very polite. Very friendly.’

What friendliness is he talking about, I though. The British were known to be reserved and distant. Weren’t the Spanish more friendly? There were certainly big cultural differences found in this car.  

Patan emerged in front of us. There was no question about why the Dubar Square, the main square of the town, was well-known for its architecture. There were several temples within a short distance. There were beautiful mandalas on the sides of them. 

As soon as we got off the car, a guide rushed to us. “You need a guide? For twenty rupee, I show you the whole town. I tell you all the history. ‘

The three of us looked at each other and nodded.  Twenty rupees for a tour was virtually nothing. 

The tour stared by the biggest temple on the square. 

‘ In this temple, you have a Kumari girl living here’, the guide explained. ‘ She is six years of age. A new girl is chosen every year in August. It is a highly prestigious role to have. The girl lives here for one year. She is not allowed to do anything. She has maids here. She is taught manners and ways to behave in a kingly way. She can’t see her family and she comes to the window every day at noon to wave at people. The Kumari family about a hundred years ago started this tradition. When the girl comes out, she is highly regarded and will be married to an excellent family.’

‘She is there now?’ Petra asked in amazement. We were all looking closely at the windows of the closed temple. 

‘Yes, yes she is there’, the guide pointed to one of the windows. The curtain of the window seemed to have moved a little. ‘She can’t have any bruises or cuts on her, otherwise her education in the temple is regarded as having gone to waste. She has a spiritual guru who goes to teach her, a man from the highest Hindu order and many other teachers.’

‘Isn’t that too much for a six year old girl to take in? Being seprated from her family and all’, Diego asked. 

‘No no’, the guide shook his head. ‘All the positive outcomes out-weight the negative effects.’   

We walked on to the next temple in silence. Talk about cultural differences! 

‘This temple is the temple of Kama Sutra’, the guide pointed at the carvings on the wood that the temple was constructed of. ‘Can you see? You have pictures of people making love.’

We looked closely at the decorations of the temple. The entire temple was covered with pictures of people making love. 

‘The Hindus who follow Vishu believe that we can use our sexual energy for our spiritual benefit. We can direct the energy and become more enlightened through that if it is wisely used. The Buddhist in Nepal also follow Vishu. They believe that Vishu who is one of the many Hindu Gods was the reincarnation of the Buddha. This temple symbolizes the sexual energy that we can use for advancing our own spiritual path.’

Talk about cultural differences - would you find pictures of people making love carved on a church in the West?

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Anyone hoping to visit Patan, here is a useful link:

http://www.patan.com/