“Yalla Ya Shabab! Yalla Ya Jamil”, Abu Mohammed shouts, as I curse and put out my cigarette at the taxi rest stop in Amman, Jordan. In Arabic Shabab means young person, while Jamil means pretty. Funny how old people in the Middle East are always calling me pretty…
Abu Mohammed had driven me in record time up and down Jordan, making stops at the Dead Sea, Wadi Rum, Petra, and of course Aqaba. These four days of racing from one tourist attraction to another were my “vacation” after a month of taking Arabic in Damascus, Syria. Now it was time to head back to Europe, where the toilets flushed, one could make fun of the President and say Israel as often as one wants.
Through some haggling Abu Mohammed finally found me a car at a decent price to drive me from Amman to Damascus. There would be three passengers in the cab; an old Iraqi diplomat, a Lebanese kid, and myself. The drive would take about 4 hours, depending on the lines at the immigration office at the border.
After about an hour of silence, the diplomat asked to smoke, and within three seconds all three of us and the driver had lit up with the windows rolled down, and the A.C. blazing. Though a hazard to your health, in the Middle East a cigarette is still an excellent ice breaker.
Through the cloud of smoke I was able to strike up a conversation with my Lebanese co-passenger, let’s call him Said. He was on his way to Beirut, coming from Kuwait, where he worked for a Swiss hotel. He was going to Beirut to finally meet a girl he had met online, without her knowing he would be stopping by.
In the West, this would be viewed by many as a form of stalking or harassment. Said was able to convince me, however, of his honorable intentions to simply meet her face to face, and to declare his love.
Like many Arab males Said possessed a child-like (and in my book praiseworthy) quality, where he was completely genuine about everything he said. Sarcasm for example, while a standard mannerism in the West, has not taken root in the Middle East. One of the reasons negotiations between the West and the Arab world are so difficult in my opinion; they believe that you will actually do what you say you will do.
Even my cynical chain smoking-self felt my heart melt a little by Said’s story of how his friends told him not to do it, and his family disapproving, since they already have an excellent candidate for marriage. Hell, a guy that is traveling through so many countries to declare his love for a woman, whom he only talked to on the phone and internet, will make a romantic out of anyone! I therefore wholeheartedly encouraged his endeavor and told him that if he didn’t go, he would never know how she felt about him.
The border crossing between Jordan and Syria was madness. Busloads of Saudi tourists were clogging the lines, and passports were literally flying through the air. It looked as though we were going to be there a while.
Said gave me his sunglasses and his wallet, since Syrian border guards tend to pick on Lebanese passing through their territory, and Said had served in the Lebanese National Army.
The Iraqi diplomat, who had ignored us youths and our talks of love, was growing impatient. He grabbed our passports, went to the immigration officer and stated that we were on a diplomatic mission for Iraq. Within five minutes we were on the road again heading towards Damascus. I never found out what happened with Said and his quest, though as I write this I imagine him happily together with his Lebanese internet girl.
Hans Wurzer studied International Relations and Diplomacy in both the US and the Netherlands. His areas of expertise include the Middle East, Near East (Afghanistan), comprehensive development efforts (3D's) and crisis communications in International Organizations like the UN. Starting in August he will be stationed at the Ducth Embassy in Algiers.