The Glammy has taken to calling the Lozenge and Rashimi 'al shabaab' which always makes me laugh because in Arabic it means: 'the lads' or 'the youths'. But most English speakers would recognise it because of the Somali terrorist group that goes by that name. Similar to 'taleban' (which translates as 'students' in Arabic) madrassa (simply 'school'), and the prefix 'Abu' - often linked to terrorists such as Abu Hamza and Abu Qatada, which simply means 'father of'. We in the West have some murky associations with words that are used harmlessly and daily in the Arabic language.
Pretty much the only way to get al shabaab to put clothes on in the mornings is, normally in a last ditch attempt at around 8.50am, to do 'disco dressing' where I put on some music really loud, and when I press pause, they have to put on an item of clothing. I can still almost dress Rashimi by brute force, but even so, he still enjoys the dancing. The situation is deemed to get worse as the Lozenge took one look at his school uniform and said: 'I will not be wearing that at my nurthery.'
We went to meet his new class teachers this morning - one very stout, and one very slim, a bit like an Arab version of Aunt Sponge and Aunt Spiker but hopefully more benevolent, and the Lozenge seemed taken by the place, which is a good start. Then we went to buy him some new pants in one of the dreaded Malls that make me feel like epilepsy is coming on, and whilst thumbing through the boys underpants selection in Mothercare (at double the price of the UK) the Lozenge started wailing: 'But I don't want pantth with crocodileth on them!' So we bought some with 'monthterth' instead from H and M at a mere £5 a pair. They'd better last a year or two at that price, and Rashimi will definitely be inheriting them.
We left Mall-ville after the Lozenge had eaten a Starbucks muffin which they had heated up to mask its stale-ness which meant all the chocolate chips were melted and we cruised back in the Chevy in 40 degrees covered in chocolate to the flat to join the Glammy and Rashimi. The Glammy was chatting nervously with Sayyad about the regional state of affairs. Everyone here fears another war like Iraq, and because some of the intelligence from Syria that the US is going by is allegedly generated by Israel, neighbouring Arab states such as Jordan, are extremely nervous. This country has absorbed so many people from the last 100 years of upheavals - from Palestine, Iraq, Egypt, Yemen and now Syria - they are terrified they will be drawn in or somehow implicated in this one, particularly if the US strikes and the Syrians consider Jordan as an accomplice.
Rashimi and the Lozenge really missed each other this morning - and were not happy to be separated. They have done everything together for the last 3 months and are very much each other's wing men. The Glammy said that Rashimi was calling: 'Lolli! Lolli!' around every corner wondering where his brother was. Rashimi is quite talkative these days and has taken to calling J, 'dood,' and calling out 'ovileeeeee!' when he wants an olive.
I left the Lozenge with the Glammy and Rashimi and drove to Jordan University to meet J for lunch. We had planned to meet a wonderful Palestinian man, Mohammed, who is Emeritus Professor of English Literature at Jordan University and studied at Cambridge. He's now well into his 70's. (hurrah, another grown up friend). We had fascinating chats with him. He's going to introduce me to a Palestinian farmer in his late 80's who lives in the Jordan valley and still farms, who will hopefully be part of my Palestinian Nakbah series.
We drove back home in a mansaf (Jordanian national rice dish) coma listening to Paul Simon - over the brow of the hill to reveal the dusty city that has become our home, sweeping below us. 'These are the days of miracle and wonder...'
In many senses for us as a family, these days are wonderful and miraculous, but the Chinese curse: 'may you live in interesting times' seems a little more applicable politically at the moment.
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