"How do you celebrate Independence Day?"
"There is a show and a parade...but I do not celebrate until I return to Palestine."
Around 75% of the population in Amman in Palestinian. This is evident in the conversations I have with almost every taxi driver, shopkeeper, or just the person on the street I've asked directions from. Word on the street is that they don't sell Coca Cola in Amman because they officially support Israel. Though its true I have not yet seen Coca Cola, I cannot confirm the company's endorsement.
Another of our drivers today explained that all of his family remained in the Gaza strip but he was able to escape into the not-so-easy life of a taxi driver in Amman.
The Palestinian issue is profound here. I could not imagine a life were politics and state separated me from my family and my home. But for these, the life unimaginable is a cruel reality that one could wish was only a a dream.
But this mere desire, natural instinct perhaps, to return to home and family is impossible for many of the Palestinians here. Even those who have lived in Amman for years do not see themselves as Jordanians. They are Palestinians living on a land that has accepted them (officially at least) but a place that is not theirs. Before, I had considered Amman a oasis for Islamic refugees living in relative harmony. Relative is the key word. I was told today from a friend of a friend, a student who has lived here for 1/2 a year, that there is tension between the 'groups' here. Society is rigid and although progressive, rigid progression.
I have talked about this before: Women in the Middle East. Most women in Amman wear a hijab (veil) and keep themselves covered. I have also seen a decent amount of women who wear the full naqib (the veil in which only the eyes show). Sometimes I wonder what they think about me. An obvious westerner, most likely not Muslim, and young. Though the men most often stare, the women glance away but those that hold the glance interest me most. Men can be dogs but women, especially in this society, are not and are often not granted the opportunity to be such.
Do they think I'm a sharmuuta?
My host mother wears the hijab. She takes it off in our home but wears it when she goes out. As we were leaving the Independence Day celebration, we were discussing wearing it. And our conclusion?
Hey, its a personal thing. Its about yourself. Fii nasf.
What is feminism here? For Westerners, the definition is easy. Women are able to pursue what they want, when they want, and chose how they want to get it. But feminism here is much different and I've narrowed it down to this. In the United States, society is individualistic. Family maintains a small role in American life but here it is much different. Your family, your group, your unit is what defines you: male or female. In collectivist societies, feminism must take on an entirely different dimension. What is feminism here then?
Let the Jordanian women decide. (in my opinion, see Queen Rania)
For Independence Day, I spent time drifting from cafe to cafe drinking espresso with the occasional puff of hukka (known here as hubbly bubbly). We cramped into taxis and traveled from city circle to city circle without a real plan in mind. Circles are the only way to get around Amman and these eight circles define the way you travel from place to place. A subtle but suitable irony when traveling in this city.
Late in the afternoon, my friends and I met with my Jordanian family for and Independence Day celebration at King Hussein park. A beautiful expansion of land in the middle of the city which, as I was told, had only recently been developed into a park. Apparently the King had recently moved near by and decided reshape the empty dirt into a place for all Jordanians to enjoy. The park hosts a new mosque, various playgrounds, soccer fields, basketball courts, open fields, and newly planted orchards but the centerpiece of yesterday was a stage. The crowd swayed around this stage while music played and cars drove by in rhythmic competition. A huge crowd materialized before me: men, women, children in a mirage of western and cultural dress.
We stood aside and observed the festivities commence. Men waving flags, balloons, and scarves danced in circles shaking their butts and shoulders like women in America. Its not acceptable for women to dance in public so men stole the show. Perhaps the most entertaining was the children, weaving in and out of the crowds, standing next to their brothers and fathers admiring their moves, or standing in the middle of no where just in awe of the activity around them.
Our numbers dwindled as the sun set and as evening came it was only myself, a friend, my family, and an administrator from my exchange program. We discussed little things and everything as I was left with the promise of meeting local environmental NGOs. I sat on the curb of the street to wait for our taxi and I thought,
People come to celebrate from around city, perhaps even the country, to celebrate this day. Among them Palestinians and women.
And also me.
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