Rumtha

Sarah's House in Rumtha

This past weekend, Betsy, Shadea and I went to Rumtha to visit a friend of Betsy's, Sarah, who is in the Peace Corps. Rumtha is a smaller city about an hour north of Amman. We were told by Sarah that we should be sure to cover ourselves from ankle to wrist. So, we left our apartment Friday morning and headed for the North bus station in our appropriately conservative attire. This is the bus station from which you can get a bus or service taxi for most places north of Amman. A service is essentially a white cab that goes from one destination to another and back. The fair is a little higher than that of a bus. At the station, we got a service to take us to Rumtha. Luckily, there was already one person waiting to go to Rumtha so we didn't have to buy out the fourth seat.

The drive there was pretty uneventful. The scenery changes as soon as you leave Amman. There are plenty of hills for the taxi driver to speed down and plenty of curbs for him to whip around also. Needless to say, ours did this like he was a race car driver.

Once in Rumtha, we paid the cab driver our 2 JD each. Sarah was waiting for us at the bus station. We were easy to spot as we were the only foreigners in sight. After introductions, she asked us how athletic were were feeling. The walk to her house from the bus station takes about 45 minutes. We decided to hoof it. On our walk back to Sarah's place, we talked about her time spent in Rumtha and some of the difficulties she regularly encounters as a young, female American. As a rule, villages outside of Amman are much more conservative and the smaller they are the more conservative they are likely to be. Sarah was describing how much effort she has to put into maintaining her credibility. For example, there is another male Peace Corps volunteer working in Rumtha. However, they are unable to interact in public because of the social stigmas associated with male-female interaction. This is just one example of the many others she gave us.

After a solid 45 minute walk out of town, we arrived at Sarah's house. Sarah lives on the bottom floor of her landlord's house. She has a bedroom, bathroom and kitchen to herself. The family has the two floors above her for a family of 6. Sarah referred to her rooms as her "American sanctuary" a place where she can relax and maybe wear a short sleeved shirt! The four of us chatted for a while before the landlord's daugher Roulla came to get us. Sarah explained that part of the living agreement between herself and her landlord was that she would essentially become part of the family. Sarah makes daily visits to landlord's family upstairs. Today, they would be hosting all of us for dinner.

We went upstairs and sat in their living room. The living room was furnished in standard Arab style: cushions on the floor for sitting. As soon as we sat, the oldest daughter served us Arabic coffee as is tradition. I forgot the other part of the custom though: if you don't want anymore you have to shake your cup slightly. I thought I was just handing my cup back but instead I got a refill. Oops! The eldest son, Yousef, was at home. He majored in English language and literature so he was eager to use his skills. We talked with him and Roulla about their lives while they asked about ours. The eldest daughter was visiting for the weekend and she brought her 13 month old son with her- Ahmed. Ahmed is the most adorable, chubby toddler.

The landlady and her 2 daughters were preparing shwarma for us for dinner. Shwarma is a sandwich that consists of seasoned chicken (sometimes lamb) with mayonnaise, pickles and french fries all rolled in a thin dough. The women wanted to show us how it was made. We all crowded in the kitchen to watch the process. The mayonnaise and french fries were homemade. The chicken meat had been shredded/ torn apart, seasoned and cooked earlier in the day. We helped mainly with the assembly of the shwarma. There was so much! After we rolled the ingredients in the partially cooked dough, the shwarma rolls were put back into the oven to roast again. It was such a tantalizing process both because shwarma is delicious and because I was starving.

Finally, the main course was ready. Newspaper was laid on the floor in the living room in front of the couches. Plates of food for each of us were put on the newspaper along with extra dishes of homemade mayonnaise and sliced vegetables. The shwarma was definitely worth the wait. It was delicious- one of those meals where you have to recline once the meal is over. We did. We went back to Sarah's room and sat for a while.

Betsy and baby Ahmed

Once we had sufficiently recovered, Sarah suggested we take a walk. I was glad to because the weather was beautiful and I needed some exercise. We walked outside to find a flock of sheep grazing just beyond the back door. We walked to a neighbor's nearby farm to see their chickens and cow. Perhaps the most interesting event of the evening was assisting the family in unwrapping boxes and boxes of candy and cookies to feed to the cow. Why? Because it will make the milk sweeter- obviously.

After our walk, we went back to Sarah's apartment and updated her on American life specifically through viral youtube videos. She seemed to appreciate this. At this point, we were all pretty tired. It was much easier to fall asleep because there weren't any strange birds making noises or any cars honking their horns outside my window.

On Saturday morning, we woke up and caught a bus outside of Sarah's house to Irbid. The bus ride took about 35 minutes and cost us .40JD each. We made sure to sit on the bus in an appropriate fashion i.e. not next to a man. Once we arrived in Irbid, we walked a couple blocks away and waited for Sarah's Peace Corps counterpart from Rumtha to arrive. Once he arrived, we walked to McDonut's to meet 5 or 6 other volunteers. It was interesting listening to them talk about the various issues they have encountered living in their respective villages. The women talked about how the other women their age are married with children so they spend their time talking about babies. The men, on the other hand, have the 'shabab" as their friends. I am going to try my best to explain 'shabab' in a sensitive fashion. Literally 'shabab' is translated as "young men" or "youth." When I use the term shabab I am referring to the Jordanian men between the ages of 16 and 25ish. Often times, the term is used with a negative connotation. That is, ruffians might be a better translation. So, back to the male volunteers. They have only shabab to interact with so their social activities consist of associating with ruffians.

Eventually, the group migrated to Papa Johns where they indulged in expensive American food. I should mention, the Peace Corps volunteers receive about 1/3 of the monthly stipend that a Fulbrighter does. So, indulging in American food is expensive for me. Can you imagine how expensive it is for these volunteers?

After our late lunch, Betsy, Shadea and I decided to head back to the bus station. We walked about 30 minutes to the bus station where we got a bus from Irbid to Amman. The tickets were 1.90 JD each. The trip to Rumtha and Irbid was good. What was better was interacting with the Peace Corps volunteers. They are clearly motivated individuals who are trying to foment positive change in their towns and villages. Their positive attitudes were reassuring. I also felt mildly guilty about the comforts of my Amman apartment. Listening to their experiences made me thankful for where I am and what I have.

Sarah with Ahmed and Betsy

Bedouin Family with Rumtha in the background

Chickens on the farm

Food for the cow!

 

Roulla and Ahmed