You can't enter a conversation with anyone here in Jordan at the moment without 'the question' coming into conversation. With the US and the UK currently in discussion about whether to strike Syria - whatever 'strike' will mean in this instance - the air is buzzing with views and concerns about what the implications will be for Jordan, and the region.
Last night J and I had a dinner on our balcony for the Duke, his wife, and wonderful Widad, the collector of Arab costumes and other heritage. We sat eating, drinking, and listening, late into the night as these experienced souls spoke about their memories, hopes and fears for the Arab world. In the warm air laced with cigarette smoke and a whiff of mint from the jug of Pimms, I studied the three fascinating faces in the half light. They must have witnessed at least 6 wars in their lifetimes, including 1967, two Gulf wars, Iran-Iraq and two Intifadas. They've witnessed the smoke, the fire and lived with the ashes. No wonder they were sounding concerned about this being the seed of another.
They spoke about how when they were young, there hadn't been such a problem with sectarianism or fundamentalism the way we experience it now, and that in Palestine, Egypt and Jordan, where they were all brought up and educated, Christians, Muslims (both Shia and Sunni), and Jews lived unremarkably together to the extent that they often wouldn't think about who was who. And they were all grateful for the Hashemites, the ruling tribe of Jordan, for their broad minded and liberal style of leadership, which in their collective view is what the continued, albeit precarious, peace within Jordan is partially down to. But for how much longer if these decisions bring the strife this way?
But they all laughingly agreed, that greater than any further war on their doorstep, their biggest fear is Alzheimers, and the Duke admitted to counting backwards at regular intervals just to make sure of his continued mental agility. From an outsider's view, it didn't look like there was a problem with any of the three minds around our table that evening, as they sat chuckling and smoking and imparting the vital vignettes of wisdom to the more junior outsiders.
As the UN weapons inspectors pick through chemical evidence outside Damascus and world leaders debate the necessity of a strike on Syria, the Lozenge is preparing himself for his first term at a 'new nurthery' and the shuttle service to and fro in a diminutive orange minibus. Rashimi will have the Glammy to himself in the mornings once more as the Lozenge climbs into his first school uniform and embarks on bilingual mornings in Arabic and English. I think he's ready, but it still feels like a big step.
This afternoon he and Rashimi nipped off with the Glammy to the bird garden, armed with an empty jam jar, to look for 'worms under rockth.' These tiny trainee men are so physically close and yet so psychologically far from these fundamental world decisions that will influence events on our own doorstep. And we, as adults, have no more input into these decisions than the Lozenge, or the worms, when it comes down to it.
***
(I need to stop because the Lozenge and Rashimi have just arrived back with an empty jar and an instruction. 'Will you pleathe thtop working at your computer, Mummy.' It's tea time, and today I hope they'll eat it. Yesterday he refused my pizza saying: 'It tathted a bit pizza-ey.')
Last night J and I had a dinner on our balcony for the Duke, his wife, and wonderful Widad, the collector of Arab costumes and other heritage. We sat eating, drinking, and listening, late into the night as these experienced souls spoke about their memories, hopes and fears for the Arab world. In the warm air laced with cigarette smoke and a whiff of mint from the jug of Pimms, I studied the three fascinating faces in the half light. They must have witnessed at least 6 wars in their lifetimes, including 1967, two Gulf wars, Iran-Iraq and two Intifadas. They've witnessed the smoke, the fire and lived with the ashes. No wonder they were sounding concerned about this being the seed of another.
They spoke about how when they were young, there hadn't been such a problem with sectarianism or fundamentalism the way we experience it now, and that in Palestine, Egypt and Jordan, where they were all brought up and educated, Christians, Muslims (both Shia and Sunni), and Jews lived unremarkably together to the extent that they often wouldn't think about who was who. And they were all grateful for the Hashemites, the ruling tribe of Jordan, for their broad minded and liberal style of leadership, which in their collective view is what the continued, albeit precarious, peace within Jordan is partially down to. But for how much longer if these decisions bring the strife this way?
But they all laughingly agreed, that greater than any further war on their doorstep, their biggest fear is Alzheimers, and the Duke admitted to counting backwards at regular intervals just to make sure of his continued mental agility. From an outsider's view, it didn't look like there was a problem with any of the three minds around our table that evening, as they sat chuckling and smoking and imparting the vital vignettes of wisdom to the more junior outsiders.
As the UN weapons inspectors pick through chemical evidence outside Damascus and world leaders debate the necessity of a strike on Syria, the Lozenge is preparing himself for his first term at a 'new nurthery' and the shuttle service to and fro in a diminutive orange minibus. Rashimi will have the Glammy to himself in the mornings once more as the Lozenge climbs into his first school uniform and embarks on bilingual mornings in Arabic and English. I think he's ready, but it still feels like a big step.
This afternoon he and Rashimi nipped off with the Glammy to the bird garden, armed with an empty jam jar, to look for 'worms under rockth.' These tiny trainee men are so physically close and yet so psychologically far from these fundamental world decisions that will influence events on our own doorstep. And we, as adults, have no more input into these decisions than the Lozenge, or the worms, when it comes down to it.
***
(I need to stop because the Lozenge and Rashimi have just arrived back with an empty jar and an instruction. 'Will you pleathe thtop working at your computer, Mummy.' It's tea time, and today I hope they'll eat it. Yesterday he refused my pizza saying: 'It tathted a bit pizza-ey.')
No comments:
Post a Comment