So I just got back from the weekend’s extensive traveling, and even though I feel like my head is filled with sand (literally) and I should probably be finishing up my lesson plans for tomorrow’s class, I wanted to record the details of the trip as thoroughly as I can before it, like the sand, slips from my sleepy brain. As a fair warning, this entry is over 6,500 words long, so I recommend printing it out instead of staring into your computer screen for an hour. Or at least, pour yourself a cup of coffee, or possibly a stiff scotch. Yes, that’ll do nicely. Ready? Let’s begin.

I didn’t want to write about the weekend’s plans before now just because, just like getting Ayn Al Basha and Internet ready and working in a timely fashion, I didn’t want to gush about the future before I was actually sitting on the bus, speeding towards the famous Petra itself. The whole trip probably cost me JD 68, all told, and for the chance to get a taste of three famous Jordanian sites, it was definitely worth it.

I met up with Haitham and his two medical school friends Ee’sad and Hazzum late on Thursday night after I got home from work. Haitham wasted no time in taking charge of the operations of directing the purchases of food, drink, and cooking, and we spent an hour scurrying about Zah’ran Street to various still-open grocery stores picking up supplies. I offered to buy dinner for everyone (why not, at JD .60 a person?) but they all declined, citing the medical issues with the constant eating of fuul and hoummus. Darn it, this is what happens when you hang out with med students.

Haitham bustled about the kitchen, taking charge of making 3 dozen sandwiches of 3 different types: egg, beef, and cheese. He clicked his tongue at us, “dahl hohn! [come here] and let’s get going! We need to be up at 4:30 in the morning to catch the bus at 5:30!” I do have to definitely admit, those sandwiches he made for dinner were definitely far better than the greasy food I regularly eat. As Haitham always quotes to me disapprovingly when I tell him of my enjoyment of the cooked farva beans called fuul, “Fuul makes fools, my friend.”

As expected, 4:30 arrived way too soon, and we were all slightly muddy-headed as we wandered shakily outside at 5:15 in the morning to catch a taxi to Garden street to meet the waiting bus. We were completely laden with sacks of food, courtesy of Haitham, but curiously (I thought to myself) I was the only one carrying a pillow and sleeping bag. No one told me until much later that all that good stuff was provided at the camp, but oh well, at least I had something comfy to continue sleeping on the bus with.

The four of us took our seats as the rest of the bus filled up. I was the only white guy on the bus; everyone else was Arab, or east Asian. There was a couple in front of us snuggling and whispering into each others’ ears, causing Haitham to frown disapprovingly and mutter something about “disgrace to Islam.” I noted that the vast majority of the other guests were a group of around 20 young students, raucously singing and calling out to each other as they stampeded aboard. From reading the backs of their matching letter jackets (which were in English, surprisingly) I could see that they were “Class of 2009 of ITC,” whatever that was. One thing was for sure, they definitely weren’t sleepy like the rest of us, and they started hooting and even (I’m not kidding) banging on 1-2 bongo drums that they had brought with them. Although they were quite rhythmically talented, I very quickly wanted to strangle them with their own checked keffiyeh scarves.

The leader of the trip, a tall, skinny young Palestinian named Kemahl, did his best to keep order as us older travelers gazed mutinously at him, wincing as the ITC kids started singing badly off-key hiphop music. However, his black and white checked keffiyeh wrapped prominently around his neck and his soft, quiet voice probably did little to affect the students, the majority of whom were festooned with the traditional, “true Jordanian” red and white scarves that old families wear to show their wahtanee; patriotism. Adding to the ineffectiveness of Kemahl’s pleas to keep it down was the fact that the bus’s sound system appeared to actually be an old karaoke machine that was set on “theater echo mode” which made his voice sound like he was speaking through a Darth Vader mask. If not for the fact that the rest of us were all trying to sleep, the whole situation would have been comical. “They’re just blowing off steam, you see,” Haitham explained. “When you’re in school, you are always told what to do, when to do, and it’s all very strict. They can’t make a sound; very repressing.”

Although the trip to Petra took about 4 hours, we took breaks every hour or so for people to get out and stretch their legs. Who am I kidding? We took breaks every 50 minutes or so for people to race off the bus and light up as many cigarettes as possible, puffing away frantically in the chilly morning air. At this first such occasion, at a little restaurant/rest stop an hour outside of Amman, we four enjoyed the first few of our tasty sandwiches as the kids pulled out a football (Americans should read as = soccer) and somehow managed to smoke, kick the ball around, and play that !#$! drum at the same time. I don’t remember having THAT much energy when I was 17, but I guess they just have to keep it bottled up all week. I wandered over to the edge of the restaurant’s parking lot, stepping gingerly between tall, thick green cacti and looking out into the desert, which instantly began beyond the cacti barrier. As is sadly the norm in Jordan, the first 10 feet in all directions was strewn with bottles, bags, and various other garbage-related items. In the distance, I could see a herd of goats and a few scattered tents.

Eventually though, we swung around the final corner over the final mountain pass and the amazing, breathtaking sight of Petra came into full view, with the tiny tourist town of Wadi Musa in front of it. The driver slowed down as we all dug out our cameras and snapped away. Of course, slowed down for a Jordanian means, “drove in a way slightly less likely to cause us to fall off the mountain” and so, the picture below is the best of the otherwise-blurry bunch. It can’t do the true sight justice, though – it was completely unlike what I expected to see. The ancient capitol of the Nabateans appears to almost grow straight up out of the desert, and then, as you can see in the far background, fall back away into nothing.

The village of Wadi Musa with the imposing Petran mountainscape beyond

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After the week’s hiatus, classes resumed today to be much smoother than last week. Well, almost. Ra’ouf had to quit suddenly and permanently, citing personal issues. I’ve only known the guy for a week, but since we were spending 9 hours a day together with Jeff and Aaron, every day, I feel like I’ve lost a close friend here. There was little time to dwell on that though, as the students apparently started showing up 2 hours early again. I certainly didn’t envy Aaron’s position, as apparently half a dozen Iraqis showed up around that time and asked to be put into classes (you can probably guess which one they were asking for). Aaron let in a few of them, but had to turn down the rest of them and it didn’t exactly go smoothly.

Without Ra’ouf, Ahmad was pressed back into service as the office translator. As classes started for me, Ali was kind enough to work as the translator for me again. I can’t emphasize enough how great this guy is; he is up there translating for me, not getting paid for it, taking my questions, automatically deciphering my Midwestern euphemisms and in general being extremely helpful. At lunchtime, I offered to get him anything he wanted for food and drink and he politely declined everything. I told him I wanted to hire him as the translator, and he told me he didn’t want money, he was just doing it to help his fellow Iraqis. “All Iraqis are like brothers, and if I can help you help them, than that is all I want,” he told me, shaking his head. Unfortunately, his family is relocating to Britain a month from today, so he and I have limited time to work together.

At the end of the class, many of the students came forward to shake my hand again, thanking me for coming (I think), and asked me what we would be doing the next day. I am already planning on bringing some “life” to the bare white walls with some diagrams and posters of computer technology, and tonight I need to work on a work sheet with different types of motherboard connectors on it for a review tomorrow.

Here are some pictures of Sheraton the little kitten. He has been greatly enjoying living here with me (and occasionally Philip when he visits his own house!). As I write this, he’s curled up on my lap, purring his low rumble-kitten purr and patting at my hand as I typed on the keyboard. Occasionally when I move or clear my throat, he looks up at me and squeaks indignantly.

Nancy presents: Sheraton the cat!

Sheraton hides in Philip's indoor garden

Also, I’ve made a Facebook album of the construction of Ayn Al Basha. Even though it isn’t completely finished yet, I think it’s close enough that I can make a photo album of what’s happened so far. Here’s the link below (you don’t need a Facebook account to see them).

So there’s the big news, of course – I am now officially a teacher! An unregistered, unlicensed, untrained, and more than likely unqualified one to be sure, but I have students and they call me “Mr. Zach” so I must have done something right. The first day was on November 2, and now it’s the 5th, so you’re probably wondering – what’s been happening in the meantime?

The answer is that we wanted to start off on the right foot with our students, so we told them that Sunday’s class was the only official one for the week, and that they should come back a week from then (this coming Sunday the 9th). Factors that played into this was the lack of doors, lack of sinks (we had just big holes in the marble countertops where they should be), and the lack of desks. All very important things for a school to have. But being that this is Jordan after all, no one really minded because whenever something is supposed to start, you automatically add a week onto it at the very least.

So when I last wrote the night of Halloween, I spent the entire next day on the first of November at the site getting all of the network jacks wired into our switchbox. Although we didn’t put the computers into the lab at that time (the lack of doors allowing the computers to possibly grow legs and leave, so to speak) I verified they all worked without a problem with my laptop. I’m quite proud of myself with putting in these three dozen jacks by myself, with no training except for my STT classes back in Madison. Four years ago, all I did then was 2-3 cables in class, but like riding a bicycle, I guess perfectly lining up those 8 tiny wires in a network cable and snipping them to the right length just sticks with you.

Can you think of a more exciting way to spend a Saturday night?

The next morning classes started at 9:30. It was weird how it just snuck up on me; I got to the site at 6:45AM or so, and frantically helped the guys assemble enough chairs for people to sit on (sans desks in most rooms), make signs and print out paperwork, and then when I next looked at my watch it was 8:30 and the first students were filtering in through our big rusty gate outside. We emptied out one of my old computer boxes and wrote “Entity Green Training” on it in Arabic, and set it on one of the gateposts. Meanwhile, Ahmad was being maneuvered all over the place by Jeff and Aaron, always needing him to converse with our students. It was about that time that our new office aide/official translator arrived, a young Iraqi man named Ra’ouf, who barely had time to put down his bag before he was thrown into the chaos as dozens of students and sometimes their parents all arrived at the same time.

Meanwhile, I was sitting in my classroom, watching the activities outside. Aaron told me to wait in there for the students, and “Ahmad would arrive shortly” to translate for me. Technically, I wasn’t even required to teach anything today, as it would be a short introductory day only. As my new students started to arrive, I learned with relief that about 3-4 of them spoke some English, and one of them, a middle-aged man named Ali, was a network admin from a now-disbanded Iraqi tech company. Students filtered in quite slowly but steadily into my class, and I wasn’t able to start until around 10:30 when final student (number 17) arrived.

All told, the age range was startling: only 4 of the students were younger than me, with most being in their early-mid 30’s, and the last few being in their mid-late 50’s. Several of the students were in crutches or had other injuries, and one of the older men was wearing a bandage over one half of his face, and large dark glasses that covered the rest of his face. Later, I learned that it was surgery, not an injury – but he told me in broken English that he had come to Jordan after his son had been killed by Shi’a militants; yanked out of a car and shot several times in the head. He wrung his hands as he spoke, trembling with emotion.

Ahmad and I introduced ourselves, and I gave them the rules for the classroom – emphasizing things like responsibility to each other and to the equipment we would be using. I have noticed that many Arabs don’t like to admit fault if something goes wrong, and I made it clear that no one would be punished for mistakes here, that everyone made them, and that all I asked was that we be able to talk about what happened so we could fix it, and even use it as a learning experience for everyone involved. Of course there were the basic rules like not smoking in class, cellphone usage outside only and if necessary, and not all speaking at once if they had questions. By the time Ahmad and I had gotten through all of this, taken questions about course procedure and policy, and added a few other comments, it was time to break for lunch at noon.

After lunch, I ran into a problem. Ahmad was needed elsewhere, and so I was left with nothing to do look helplessly at the ceiling and make small talk with the English-speakers. However, Ali became a great assistant when he offered to translate for me in Ahmad’s stead, and I spent a very enjoyable hour getting into the very basics of computer layout, talking about basic computer standards like hard drive and power supplies dimensions, and why they’re so important to our industry. I got them a little excited talking about how much money they can save themselves doing their own technology work and network construction, and they definitely seemed to be enjoying themselves. Ali was an excellent translator, the other two English speakers told me; although they liked Ahmad, they told me that the young Palestinian was a little hard to understand for Iraqis, and that he spoke far too quietly. I assured them (and the rest of the class, via Ali) that I would talk with my friend about this for them.

I put the whiteboard behind me to good use; drawing out detailed if fairly ugly looking diagrams of laptops and desktops, highlighting their differently-placed but identical parts. Ali closely followed behind me, translating my words into Arabic even as I was still in the same sentence. He was so precise that I wondered if he had been trained in this. The students nodded intently, and some were taking notes. I tried to remember to keep it slow and I was sure to stop every 5-6 minutes to make sure that everyone was following along, and to take time for questions. As Jeff, Aaron, and the IRD representatives arrived to dispense the first attendance stipend to the students, I asked Ali to ask the students to give him a hand, and although he gently tried to refuse the compliment, I insisted; starting the applause myself, gesturing to him and saying “Shukran!” The other students laughed and joined in, cheering as their countryman smiled modestly. The money was quickly dispensed, with each student coming forward and providing a copy of their legal registration with the United Nations Refugee Agency, signing their name, and receiving their envelope with great flourish. Some guy was wandering about, snapping pictures, and interviewing the trainees. I’ll have to try to find him and ask him for copies of the pictures if I can; IRD and I can make a trade of my pictures of Ayn Al Basha’s construction for ’em.

And that was that; the first day of class was over. The Iraqis filed out, chatting and shaking my hand repeatedly. Gazwan, the only younger Iraqi with English skills, thanked me profusely for “coming here and doing this good work” and told me that he couldn’t wait to come back next week. As they headed towards the gate, I leaned against the gritty brick of my classroom and watched them, feeling all the tension of the day leave me. I had done it! I had taken the first steps along the path to my dream: helping the people who need it most, the victims of an unfair invasion that left them the unknown refugees of a broken nation.

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With only a few days remaining before I make my debut as a teacher, I am trying to get as many things done as possible: traveling, hanging out with friends, work at the school, and work at Ayn Al Basha. I come home late like this each night (although it says 3AM, it’s actually more like 4AM to my internal clock thanks to Daylight Savings shutting off) and barely have enough energy to brush my teeth, much less write long blog entries like I was apt to a couple months ago.

However, as today was both Friday and Halloween, I gave myself the evening off from my self-enforced schedule of computer management and went to a couple parties. More on that in a few paragraphs. Ayn Al Basha is coming along nicely, hamdilallah, and not a moment too late. We’re suffering constant delays in getting the products we need from other suppliers, little things like desks (just arrived yesterday) and chairs, as well as – the windows and doors. Needless to say, I have the computers imaged and ready to be installed, but I’m sure not putting $9,000 worth of computer equipment into a room that doesn’t have a door.

Although the electricity is almost totally wired through the building, we don’t have it turned on yet to prevent our two awesome electricians (kharabyee) from toasting themselves. However, we tested out our florescent light system in one room just a couple days ago, the day of the first huge rainstorm. It was incredible; mist, fog and muddy/sandy water racing down the mountains everywhere. I was setting up the first four computers in the admin building (the green one) with Aaron, Jeff, and Ahmad, and suddenly there was a massive flood of light pouring out into the yard next to us. Each room has about 20 long florescent bulbs in them, making each room brighter than daylight. I joked that IRD will want us to conduct classes at night if they hear about how nice the light system is!

Yesterday was the orientation day for the Iraqi students. About 90-120 students showed up throughout the day to hear Aaron speak (or more specifically, for Aaron to make noises, which Ahmad translated into something recognizable for them) and to ask questions about the programs they were enrolled in. I wasn’t in attendance (I had Linux and Windows images to tweak for multilingual support on the other side of the complex) but I heard later that it was really draining. A lot of the Iraqis were upset that they had been put into other classes when the one they originally wanted was full, and wanted to ask Aaron how they could switch. Unfortunately, almost EVERYONE wanted to switch into Computer Hardware – my class. Aaron and Jeff were seriously trying to weigh whether or not to drop the Construction course entirely (which 1-2 people signed up for) and trying to get another 2 Hardware instructors. A lot of the other students were upset with the time of day the class was offered: 9:30 in the morning was too early for them? I raised my eyebrow at that one. They also wanted to know why it was in the “middle of nowhere” in a tiny town like Ayn Al Basha. I happened to be talking with one of the English speaking fathers of one of the younger trainees, and he described it like this, “When we first heard it was in Ayn Al Basha, we thought, Wayn Al Basha?” [wayn is Arabic for ‘where?’]

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There’s only about a week and a half remaining before classes start at Ayn Al Basha, and I can tell that they’re going to be ridiculously busy. Since Sunday, Wajih has had me going onsite every day to help oversee the final stages of the construction, and he’s put me in charge of designing, purchasing, and installing the entire computer networking system on the campus. It’s not like it’s a very BIG campus, but there’s going to be some 350 meters of Category 5 ethernet cable strung out through the rafters and in below-ground piping systems. Wajih just wants me to wait until the electrical is laid out, and then I can get started.

When I first went out to Ayn Al Basha, our stonemason Najeeb (who is also Ahmad’s brother in law) proudly led me to a dim room in the corner and show me the site’s most recent addition: a shaggy-furred black and white Nubian goat, who stared at us curiously as we entered the room. At first I asked Najeeb why there was a goat in a training center, but then I recalled that the important ‘Great Feast’ of Eid ul-Adha was coming up in early December. Najeeb happily drew his thumb across his throat and rubbed his belly. That went a long way to confirming my suspicions that the goat (which I’ve named “Mazie” since the Arabic word for goat is mahweez) will eventually be gracing our dinner plates.

Sorry that I'm going to be eating you eventually, Mazie.

A few days ago, Haitham celebrated his 23rd birthday, and invited me to Zarqa for the festivities, and some extremely tasty birthday cake and cookies that his mother had made. I felt extremely privileged that I was allowed into the inner rooms of the house; usually outsiders are only allowed to see the specialized meeting rooms, like in the case of the Sheikh a couple months ago. We all gathered around the table and sang “Happy Birthday” to him, in English. I asked him why there wasn’t an Arabic birthday song we could sing for him, and he shrugged and told me that he didn’t really care about his birthday, that it was more of his mother’s idea than anything else. “Muslims are not supposed to have any other Eid’s besides the two festivals to God, so I don’t really care about celebrating my birthday. It’s something that was brought over by the West, which is why the song is in English.” Regardless, the food was delicious, and Haitham’s mother, like the Sheikh and every other house I’ve been to, did her best to cajole me to eat every bit of food on the table, while smiling at me fondly.

Haitham and his well-lit (and very tasty) cake.

There’s still a lot of work to be done at Ayn Al Basha, so that trip to Zarqa will probably be the last fun trip I’ll be able to have for awhile. Aaron, Jeff, Wajih, and myself are now constantly in discussion about pricing of electronics, room layouts, and lesson syllabi. I have barely even seen Philip for the last week, because Kahlil has been coming to pick me up at 7:30 in the morning, which for me is extremely early. Thankfully, the classes are going to be from 9:30 to 4, so at least I won’t have to get up much earlier than what I’m used to. With the syllabus I’ve written out, there won’t be much “homework” for my students for Ahmad and I to grade (a blessing for both the students and us).

In other news, I accidentally voted today. Although I view Obama with a general disinterested apathy due to his likely inability to create actual positive change for America, he’s still obviously better than his doddering alternative. Aaron was going to the American Embassy to drop off his ballot, so I decided that since he was going, I’d tag along. After being scanned, searched, and having all my electronics taken away from me (which took awhile) we were admitted into the bland-looking building in the Abdoun district of Amman. I had to throw away the ballot that Wisconsin had emailed to me, and fill out a new Federal one, but at least they paid the postage for it to be sent home – Fedex’s “Express Your Vote” campaign for overseas citizens was charging $24 to send a few sheets of paper back home. Thanks but no thanks, Fedex. Guess now that I’ve done my “patriotic duty” and participated in the farce that is the general election, not much to do but sit back and watch the fireworks show.

Apple released an updated product line for their consumer-grade “Macbook” computers and their professional “Macbook Pro” computers on Tuesday. For the first time, I found myself joining in on various forums around the world with excited Macophiles in the days preceding the launch, speculating on what new features the redesigned systems would bring the world. Although I certainly have never drank the Apple Kool-Aid, I will probably be in the market for a new laptop when I return to the states, and I can just run Windows on it if I want to anyway. It’s amusing to watch Macophiles obsessively banter on their forums about Macs, ridiculing PC users at every opportunity and snarling at anyone who would dare to question the silvery alter of their chosen hunk of metal and plastic.

Apple, what were you THINKING? was the thought that seemed reverberate around the world when we all saw the new computers. Although there seems to be general agreement that the new systems are solidly-built and attractive, for the first time on Macrumors.com I saw that the number of “negative votes” on the launch stories outnumbered positive ones by triple or quadruple numbers. As a hardware technician for both Macs and PCs, here’s my thoughts on the new systems.

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