In a brilliant quote on the Channel 4 website this week, Lindsey Hilsum described a moment in a remote village in India, when a man said to her: "Your Queen is a woman. Your Prime Minister is a woman. And you, standing here talking to me in my village, are also a woman. So what exactly do the men do in your country?"
So Maggie has departed, and although some people in the UK wanted to sing: 'Ding dong the witch is dead!', when you look at the chances of leadership as a woman in this part of the world, you want to celebrate Maggie, despite her fearsome reputation.
And as I flicked through the Jordan Times this week I read, not far from an article about Thatcher's resistance of the feminist label, illustrated with a 1970's picture of her in a pinny chopping onions, that Saudi Arabia has registered its first female lawyer: "paving the way for women to practise as lawyers in the kingdom." It's sobering to think what our daughters would be offered as a lifestyle there. Let alone the Mums. Imagine how many potential Maggies there could be under those black abbayas.
And snuggled between these two articles was Angelina Jolie with her new sidekick, William Hague. (I wonder if Ffion and Brad are hanging out behind the scenes). Agreed, her anti rape campaign cannot be too strong, when you read that over 250,000 women have been raped in DRC over the last 20 years, not to mention 11 babies raped there last year. Thanks to the campaign, G8 nations have pledged £23 million towards measures to prevent sexual violence. But you can't help wondering why it takes Angelina in her pearls to make nations take action.
J and I also came across an impressive woman ourselves this week - in the form of the head of one of the nursery schools we've been looking at for the Lozenge next year. She's an Aussie, married to a Jordanian, who has lived here 30 years, yet has not an ounce of the fatigue you sometimes find in expats, (the 'Jordan coma' as one uninspiring woman I met once described it). Describing her love of Jordan, her eyes sparkled as she relayed a conversation she'd had at a dinner party with an Aussie back in her home town. "What's it like living next to Iraq?" he asked her. "Similar to what it's like to live next to Indonesia," she replied. She's broadminded and sparky and seems to run a colourful and happy school with an onus on keeping things local, and keeping children learning both Arabic and English well enough to fit into educational institutions here, or anywhere, from 6 years old. J and I agreed that we rely on this kind of influence on our children's lives, when living away from home. She ensures the children celebrate every festival - whether it's Islamic, Christian or National. She gets both sides, so more than bridging a gap, she unifies little people from an early age so they don't see differences.
Since the 'Arab awakening' that was triggered by the Arab Spring two years ago, although the fall of several corrupt and authoritarian regimes from Tunisia to Egypt via Libya, was well overdue, in its place there is an equally serious sectarianism creeping in - such as Muslims and Christians in Egypt, and among various Muslim sects, especially in Syria. So multicultural schools must be a good way to begin in this region. In his column in the same paper, George Hishmeh wrote: 'Sectarianism and religious prejudice is a curse and the best way to overcome it is through education…encouraging children to peacefully exist.'
This past weekend, Rashimi, the Lozenge, J and I had one of our happiest weekends since we arrived, doing not much apart from hanging out in our funny little neighbourhood. We visited a place which the Glammy's family won't let her go to because they say it's rough. But to us it seemed more like a shabby fairground frequented by local families who meander around nibbling on fried chickpeas and corn. If a combination between Blackpool and Iraq existed, it would be about here. The Lozenge and I had a ride on a bumper car and we meandered with the other families, though forgoing the neon pink candy floss. The sad thing is, that it was obviously built with high ideals, but has not lived up to these and has been left to crumble meaning only the poorest families go. But visually, it's a ready made film set. Brighton Rock in Amman, or something. I must go back there with my real camera. Though the iphone didn't do a bad job...
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