Jordan, debriefed
Jordan was absolutely phenomenal. I’m really glad I decided to go: the horror stories about the long waits at Allenby (King Hussein) Bridge were more than true, but waiting 8 hours to get across the border paled in comparison to the fun of Amman!
It was fantastic to be in a real city again. Driving on a highway to get through town? Weird.
The dynamics of Amman’s population are very interesting. Identity in Jordan is a spiderweb. When we first arrived, our service driver identified himself as a “Jordanian Jordanian” and I quickly found out why. The demographic of Jordan is a hodge-podged mix of Jordanians, Palestinians, Gulfies (those from the Gulf states— Emirates, Saudi, Bahrain), Egyptians and Filipinos and with that comes a headache. Every time we met someone we asked them “where are you from?”. Normally, it would be an odd question for a tourist to ask a local, but in Jordan it was important. We heard stories from refugee Palestinians who used to live on the Mount of Olives, we met Saudis who were spending their summer holiday beating the heat in Amman, we drank juice with a juice vendor from Misr (Egypt) whose family has owned the same juice shack for 80 years. Actually, one of my favorite moments from the trip was discovering the vendor was from Egypt. Immediately, I broke out into the Egyptian national anthem I learned when I was at a Peace Camp in Cairo: “beladi, beladi, belaaaaadi…laki hooobi wa fouadi…” His face lit up, he poured me some more freshly squeezed juice, and together we bellowed the verses. :) I was just glad I could remember it!
Jordan, like the rest of the world, is no exception to social injustice and inequality. It has been described to me that Jordanians only “tolerate” Palestinians and a very strong prejudice exists against the displaced Palestinians who have sought refuge in Jordan. Still, the Palestinian-Jordanians seemed to be getting along okay. The Egyptians, on the other hand, tend to have more of the menial jobs in Jordan. They sweep the streets and comprise most of the lower-class housing. Still worse are the Filipinos. A lot of people in Jordan have hired help— Filipinos— who are responsible for watching the babies/children, cleaning the house and managing affairs 24/7. One night as we were eating ice cream we saw a poor Filipino lady who looked like she hadn’t slept in ages. She was running after the rowdy children while the parents sipped on coffee. My friend who has studied in Jordan told me about visiting her friends’ homes where their Filipino help (she used the word ‘slaves’) are housed in a closet. It’s common she says. The lady who we stayed with told me of her interactions with the Filipino workers in Aqaba. She was at the spa at the Movenpick Resort and asked them how much they get paid. The only pay they received was the tips they received. People were spending more on manicures and pedicures than these workers were paid in a month! We were told many times by Jordanians that they liked everyone but the Filipinos. I had no idea.
This weekend just added another layer to the convictions and the lessons I am learning this summer. If I have one fear, it is that I will be inadequate, that I’ll forget, and I will become part of the ignorance that tears my heart in half. I pray my life can be a true testament to the justice and the love we are called to provide to our neighbors. It is tempting to dispair at the difficulties of walking rightly, fighting for the oppressed and seeking justice for the ignored; thankfully, here, my faith comes in. Remembering the true Gospel, reflecting on the actions and teachings of Christ, and realizing that if I choose to press into my faith and trust in God my life will inevitably reflect these values, I find hope.
On a side note: A girl from our group, a blond 19 year old girl, went to Cairo this past weekend to visit her professor. When she flew back into Israel they asked her if she knew anyone in the West Bank. She said yes, but only their first names. Israel then told her to give them all of those people’s contact information. When she refused, Israel denied her entry. They were going to send her back to Egypt, where she knew no one, but fortunately the US Embassy intervened. The Embassy told them that if they were going to deny her entry back into Israel than they must fly her back to the States. So that is where she is now, in the States. She could not return to the program and must have her belongings shipped back to her. Why? Because she wouldn’t give them information on Palestinians? Isn’t that an illegal way to get information anyway? There is nothing illegal about being friends with people in, or traveling to, the Occupied Territories either. In my opinion, this treatment is unacceptable.
