Wedding Bells

Ha! I'm sure that heading caught your attention! Don't worry, the bells were not for me. I had the privilege of attending an Arabic wedding party this weekend. A teacher from the school who I've gotten to know through basketball got married and invited me to attend the party that takes place the night before the wedding. The party is traditionally for family, so it was an honor to be invited. I went with two other teachers. We took a cab to her house, which was lit up with strands of lights all around the outside. We didn't really know what we were in for as we were ushered into the front room. There were Arabic women lined up around the edge of the room. Since it was all women, most of their heads were uncovered and their abayas (long black covering) were opened to reveal brightly colored clothing. We were directed to a place on the couch near the special bench where the couple would sit. The women chatted in Arabic, while we sat contentedly on the couch drinking strong tea from what looked like tall shot glasses and taking it all in. Soon a woman on the floor with a microphone began the traditional singing/chanting that is popular in Arab culture and using the bottom of an empty water bottle as a drum. The other women clapped different rhythms enthusiastically and called out in loud quick trills. Two of the older women got up and started dancing, moving their hips and arms in slow circles. The music and dancing carried on for an hour while streams of women kept pouring into the house. The social etiquette that went on was fascinating. Each new woman that entered the room went around to all the seated women, greeting them with the traditional kissing. Some women got 2 kisses while others got 5. The older women all sat on the chairs and couches around the edge of the room while the younger girls sat on the floor in front of the singer. Pretty soon the room was packed. And then it was time for the bride and groom to enter. As soon as the word spread that they were coming, there was a radical change in the room. The women all closed up their abayas and wrapped scarves around their heads. There was a row of women from Saudi Arabia sitting across from us, and they all covered their faces as well. Within minutes the colorful clothes and beautiful dark hair was covered by black cloth. And all because one male was entering the room.
The bride and groom came down the stairs. It was a long, slow process as there were tons of pictures being taken and everyone pausing to admire the bride. Here was the teacher that I always saw fully covered now wearing a strapless wedding dress and sparkling from head to toe. Her hair was curled and on one side sculpted into roses lined with gemstones. Her make up was heavy and dark as is traditional and her hands and forearms were covered in the most delicate and intricate henna I've ever seen. I hardly recognized her. The couple made their way to the special bench, and all the young girls lined up to take pictures with them. After pictures, there was a buffet outside with traditional Arabic food followed by more singing and dancing. I'm sure this was a once in a lifetime experience.

Indian Barbie

I recently attended an Indian festival with some of my friends. I heard there was going to be traditional Indian dancing there, so I was pretty excited. Not being Indian, I didn't really know what to expect. I went to my friends house, and little did I know I was in for an Indian make over. This festival is a pretty big deal--they pull out all the stops, meaning traditional Indian dress was a must. Fortunately, my friend has a younger sister who happens to be my size. Before I knew it, I was parading around their house in various outfits while they decided which one looked best. They decided on a pants and tank top set--blue and pink with some bead work. It was very nice. After my outfit was selected, there was the problem of shoes. Again, I went through several options before settling on a pair of flat, silver sandals. At this point, I'm thinking that I'm ready to go. But no. Not quite. You don't have a complete Indian outfit without jewelry. I sat on the bed while the mom and sister sorted through piles of necklaces, earrings, bangles, and bracelets. After I was sufficiently adorned, it was time for my hair and make up. Oh yes, when I said Indian make over, I meant the whole nine yards. I high pony tail and some eye liner and eye shadow later, I was finally ready. My friend looked at me and said, "You look like Indian Barbie." Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.
I have to admit though, that I did enjoy the make over, and the festival was amazing. It turns out that you don't simply watch the dancing, you participate in it. I was a little self conscious at first, especially since I was the only white person in the place, and I had no clue what I was doing. Luckily for me, most of the people I was with didn't know how to do it either, so we all learned together. Every person gets two wooden sticks, one for each hand. The art of the dance is moving with the music, hitting sticks with your partner, and executing spins and turns while traveling in a circle and changing partners. It sounds complicated, but if this Dutch girl can get it, it can't be that bad! My friend has some pictures, so hopefully they will be up soon!

from the mind of a seventh grader...

I was reading through my students' journal this afternoon and ran across these two entries that had me laughing out loud. While they might seem strange and absurd, you have to admire the creative juices that are flowing. :)

Q: Would you rather be 1m tall or 4m tall? Why?
A: I would rather be 4m so I can squish my friends which chose 1m to the ground and then put sticks in them and put them on the BBQ machine so they can be friends on a stick.

Q: What kind of ice cream flavor would you like to be?
A: I would like to be chocolate ice cream coated with sprinkils because then everyday after lunch I would lick myself a few licks instead of getting up going to get a plate and put desersts on it. It is much better to lick myself.

one quarter down...

I just finished up my first quarter as a teacher. Here are some memorable moments as of late.

"Miss, I will pay you 20 dinars to change my seat. "

One of my students walked into class the other day with a large rip in the front of his polo shirt, right along the collar. He could see that I was looking at his shirt, so he merely smiled and said, "Teacher, it's the new style." I kind of shook my head and let it go. About 10 minutes later, the students were working on a writing assignment. I looked up from my desk and discovered that Mr. Fashion had taken a mini stapler out of his pencil case and was now intently trying to staple his shirt back together. I watched him for a good 3 minutes without him knowing. After three or four strategically placed staples, he was satisfied. He put away the stapler and continued writing.

Student:"You'd better not or you're dead meat and toast!" (said to another student while I was standing nearby.)
Me: "Dead meat on toast?"
Student: "No, AND toast."
Me: "Where did the toast come from?"
Student: "I don't know; it's just dead meat and toast."

A few weeks back I decided we need to do some drama in my class. I assigned the students a story to read, and then placed them in groups. Their task was to write the story into a play that they would act out for the class. I gave them the liberty to change the dialogue as they saw necessary, and they took to the task like fish to water. After several noisy and fairly chaotic class periods, the scripts were ready and the plays set to begin. Little did I know just exactly how into it these kids would get. I had students in costumes, boys in wigs, and shirts stuffed with Kleenex. One group even included a little break dance scene enhanced with the appropriate lingo, such as "What up, boy?" It was great fun.

The budding stars

snapshots of India

It's been quite a while since my last post. I guess it's true what they say, time flies when you are having fun. Although, I must admit that I am having a rather strange experience when it comes to time. We don't really have seasons here, so it never really feels like time is passing. For instance, I'm sitting right now in my air conditioned apartment because the daytime highs are still in the 90s, yet the calendar tells me that it is November 1; I hardly believe it. My environment tells me that it is still summer, so hearing about Halloween, pumpkins, changing leaves, and cooler weather seems rather surreal and foreign. It's a very odd experience. But the first quarter is ending, so time must be passing. In a way it is nice because it's already November and I hardly realized I've been here for over two months.

A few weeks ago we had a week holiday from school to celebrate the Muslim holiday called Eid, which marks the end of Ramadan. I thought it wise to make the most of this time off, so I took a trip to India. Wow, what an experience. I fell in love with it as soon as I got into the rickety mini bus taxi with red and black tiger striped interior that served as our transportation to the hotel. The sights and sounds of India were so fascinating. I've been wanting to visit India for over a year now, so I was very thankful for this opportunity. We visited Goa, which is the location where they shot to opening scene in the second Bourne Identity movie, for those of you movie buffs out there. Goa was originally settled by the Portuguese, so some parts have a very European feel, but the tropical environment was undeniable. I have never seen so many palm trees in my whole life. Where we have forests of oaks and maples, they have forests of palm trees. My eyes were glued to the window for the entire drive from the air port to Goa. Bahrain is nearly colorless, so the vivid shades of India's landscape were a welcome relief to my eyes. If there was ever an occasion to use the word lush, now would be it. Everything was green and fresh; amidst the green were flashes of brightly colored flowers--pinks, reds, purples. The buildings of India are also painted in vibrant reds, yellows, blues, and greens. The people are beautiful--dark, sun-baked skin draped in the rich colors of saris and accented by gold chains and hoops. Words are not enough and my eyes could scarcely take it all in.
We stayed right on the beach, which is most likely my favorite place in the whole world. We could walk out the back and literally be in the sand. The water was so warm and the waves were huge. I had a ball. It was a week of much needed rest and relaxation, which only meant that coming back was even more difficult. But you do what you need to do. I only hope that some day I can go back to India.

I will try to post a few pictures tomorrow.

vindictive

I discovered last week that I have quite the reputation among the high schoolers, more specifically the 12th graders. Seeing as I teach 7th grade, I have little to no interaction with the high school students. In fact, the only contact I have is in the mornings when I pass through the hall to get to my classroom, which is in the next building. As most of you know, I'm not very friendly, especially in the morning, so I usually just mind my own business and head straight to my room. Well, some of the high school boys sit in the hall every morning, so they started asking the other teachers, "Who is that teacher who walks by in the morning, the one who never smiles? She looks so mean." Alison, the science teacher who is also a volunteer here, told one of the boys he should say hi because I'm really nice. He wasn't too sure about that but said he would give it a try. Now Alison likes to joke around, so she warned me ahead of time what was going on, and she told me the kid's name. The next morning when he greeted me, I turned around, smiled and returned the greeting using his name. The look on his face was priceless: a mixture of complete shock and slight terror, like he could have just wet his pants. I thought my reputation was limited to this small group of boys, but I was wrong. My roommate, Amy, came home and told me that I came up in her class as well--12th grade English. They were learning the new vocabulary words, and one of them was vindictive. She explained that it meant vengeful, and one of her students piped up, "Oh, that's Miss Jena!" He even drew a cartoon to illustrate his point.

"I'll keep my eye on you!"

We all had a good laugh over that one. Most of these seniors could easily pass for 25, and they are intimidated by a little blonde girl who looks about 18!

making books

a day at the zoo

As a teacher, there are some days when it's just best to laugh. Today was one such day. The goal of the English program in seventh grade is to teach the students how to write. I have implemented a writer's workshop program, so the students can practice writing down their thoughts and ideas as well as get some experience with editing and revising. After several weeks of just writing, I thought it was time to show them the publishing aspect of the process. Our project was to make books out of cereal boxes and fabric. I led the students through simple step-by-step instructions, but as you might guess, simple instructions do not always work in a class of very energetic and easity distracted middle schoolers. The first day of the project went fairly well, but today was day two and the sailing wasn't quite as smooth.
The problem was everyone was at a different point in the project, so I needed to transform into super manager, who keeps everyone on task and moving forward. Easier said than done. I have one student in particular who always keeps me on my toes. He has a lot of trouble focusing, and if you aren't on him, he wanders around the room and gets himself in trouble. I pulled his desk to the front of the room so he could have his own space to work and focus. As I'm explaining phase two of the project to those who are at that point, this student is desperately calling for my attention. And by desperately I mean nearly jumping out of his seat and frantically waving his hand in the air. He wants to know if his box is ok. He brought in a mini cereal box--the kind that is about 3 in by 2 in. The front and back panels of the box are used for the front and back cover of the book, so using a mini cereal box means making a very mini book. Realizing that I had no other cardboard to give him and that he needed something to work on for the next 30 minutes, I said ok. He then starts cutting his fabric, which was an old t-shirt. He cut the back out of the shirt and in a moment of sudden inspiration realizes that the shirt now looks like a surgeon's gown. So what does he do? He puts it on and starts modeling his new hospital wear. That's fine. It's pretty harmless, so he can just wear it. I wander to the back of the room to help a student edit his piece. When I turn around, there are three boys in the middle of the room nearly wrestling each other for a bottle of glue. And the surgeon is right in the middle of it all. I break up the match and find more glue. A few minutes later I turn around to see the surgeon shoving a pair of scissors into the uncapped glue bottle. I ask him what he is doing, and he replies in all seriousness, "Teacher, I need glue. It won't come out." At this point it's too late to save the scissors, so I redirect him back to his seat where he begins smearing glue on his book using the scissors as one would use a butter knife. Looking at his desk, I see two pencils stuck together and covered in globs of glue, scraps of fabric everywhere, cardboard littering the floor, and his chair a good five feet away. At least he's out of trouble. Meanwhile, I have another 3 students wandering aimlessly around the room and two more loudly tattling on each other. I quickly get everyone back to work just as the surgeon finishes gluing. He's ready for his pages. With a look of dismay he realizes that the half sheets of paper we are using as pages are too big for his 3 in. book. He's at a complete loss for what to do. I find a clean pair of scissors and suggest he make his own pages. By the time the bell rings 15 minutes later my classroom looks like a craft war zone. There are scraps of paper and cardboard everywhere, glue on the desks, books drying on nearly every flat surface, a pile of glue on the floor, and one exhausted teacher laughing at it all.

an evening stroll

mosque in the evening.

a bill board. very arab-henna and dates.

the tower of a mosque

the national evengelical church we attend. (there are actually a few flowers that bloom here!)

an apartment entrance.

a street near the old market.

Ramadan Special

Since we are no longer allowed to eat in public, our group of friends has organized a potluck meal every Friday following the church service, which we have lovingly dubbed "The Ramadan Special." Our first meal was this past Friday. We all gathered at one house for a time of food, fellowship, and fun. The house we went to was right near a mosque, and unfortunately, by the time we got there, the Muslim service was in full swing. We turned down one street and came to an immediate halt because the street was blocked by Muslim men kneeling in prayer. The mosque was literally overflowing with people--down the front steps and into the street. We turned around and went another way. By the time we found parking and started walking to the house, the service was over. Now picture this scene: a group of 6 white girls and one Indian man are parading down the street against the flow of Muslim men leaving the mosque. And if that isn't bad enough, we are all carrying plates of dessert right under the noses of the fasting men. (Just to remind you, food is not allowed in public during Ramadan!) Talk about feeling a little awkward and just a little out of place. :) But despite the rough beginning, the event was a smashing success. The meal, comprised of sausage, bread, potato salad, chips, and our illegal desserts, was delicious. Afterwards, we entertained ourselves for hours with a highly competitive and extremely lively game of Pictionary. Here are a few shots of the event.

futoor

Thursday we attended a futoor celebration at school. Futoor is the breaking of the fast at sunset. Since most of the students are Muslim, there were quite a few that attended. They all brought some sort of dish to share in a potluck meal. When we got there, the students were all playing soccer, the beloved past time of most here, as the sun had not yet set. It was quite amusing to see the mob of students sprint into the hall once the call to prayer sounded breaking the fast! But I don't blame them; if I hadn't eaten all day, I would have been right up there with them! The meal was good. I'm getting used to seeing plates of unknown food and digging right in. I must say, the desserts were by far the best. I heard a rumor that the desserts were top notch, and they definitely lived up to their reputation. I don't even know what the desserts were but there were chocolate dishes, puddings, pastries, and cookies. After the meal, there was a soccer tournament for the students. I was really impressed by their ability to run around in that heat. It was 8 o'clock at night, but still so humid that they were literally dripping in sweat. But that doesn't stop them; they play for hours. It was great to see my students outside of the classroom and doing something they love. You don't always see that sort of enthusiasm when you are trying to teach them how to write!

morning

I joined an exercise group that meets every morning to run at the beach. Apparently my desire for physical activity was pretty strong because I'm now getting up at 4:30 five times a week to exercise. And for those of you who know me well, you know that I am not a morning person. The getting up is rough, but it's nice to get out and exercise. Plus I feel like my sweating is actually justified because I did more than simply stand outside. One of the unexpected pleasures of this exercise program is getting to see the sun rise every morning. Watching the sum come up over the water might be the best way to start your day. Here's what I mean:

life in pictures

Habib Market--the cold store just outside my apartment, kind of like a convenience store

view from my kitchen window. the two white towers are part of a mosque that is right next to the school.

Here is the rest of the mosque.

Coca Cola--only 30 cents a bottle.

This is my classroom. I teach three sections of seventh grade English. I have each class 7 times a week, so some days I have the same class twice. The school week runs from Sunday to Thursday, so I feel like I never know what day it is! We go to church on Friday and have Saturday off.

Ramadan

Ramadan started last week. During the month of Ramadan, no one may eat or drink anything while the sun is up (from about 5 am to 6 pm). Nothing at all, not even water. The fast is a time to draw closer to Allah through reflection and prayer. Even non-Muslims are not allowed to eat or drink in public. All restaurants are closed until after sunset. The fast is broken with a meal and prayer each evening. Ramadan is a time to celebrate communally with family and friends. Each evening, entire families gather to feast together. These celebrations last well into the night. After a few hours of sleep, people get up at 3:30 or 4:00 for a quick meal before sun rise. Muslims then return to bed for a few more hours of sleep. The days are much shorter during Ramadan; work starts later and ends in the early afternoon. Life in general relaxes to a much slower pace. Ramadan also has interesting implications for teachers. Children are encouraged to participate in the fasting and prayer starting in fourth grade. Children also attend the nightly celebrations. This means that students are not home to do homework at night and come to school exhausted. The school day is shortened (8:00 to 1:00) to accommodate the different lifestyle. Also, because Islam follows the lunar calendar, Ramadan comes earlier every year. It is still quite hot during the days so going without food and water is even more exhausting. I feel like this month is going to be an interesting experience.

sand storm

I experienced my first sand storm this week. Not really knowing anything about it, I expected there to be sand flying through the air, pelting everything in sight. It's nothing like that at all. The air seems really foggy, but it's just really fine dust and sand in the air. On my way to school I could look directly into the sun and see it's outline because the dust was so thick in the air. You don't really notice it, but as the day goes on, everything is covered by a fine layer of brown dust. I could also start to feel it in my sinuses from breathing it all day. Interestingly enough, the two days of the sand storm brought some of the nicest weather because the humidity dropped and so much of the sunlight was filtered by the sand in the air. Here are some pictures so you get an idea of what a sand storm looks like.

view from my apartment on a normal day. Those towers in the back are the Bahrain World Trade Center.

The same view during the sand storm. It was this foggy/sandy all day.

that's what you get

Needless to say, there are not an abundance of blondes in this part of the world. Most of the Arab women cover their heads, and the rest sport long dark locks, so my blonde pony tail turns a few heads around here. Last weekend when we were driving through town, we got separated from the other car, so we pulled off to the side of the road to wait for them. As we were sitting there, a group of men came walking along the median. One of them was particularly taken by our car full of blonde females. His pace slowed considerably as his full attention was turned towards us. He was so captivated by our exotic appearance that he failed to pay attention to where he was going and walked straight into a pole! It was a beautiful sight. :)

The beginning

I never imagined I'd end up in the Middle East, but here I am. It's been three weeks now, and I feel like I'm settling in. This seems to be a country of many contradictions. For example, when I look out my bedroom window, I see an old, falling down house with one of the only remaining wind towers; directly behind that are the very modern looking, steel structures known as the Bahrain World Trade Center. I guess the clash of tradition and progress is universal.

My apartment is spacious and furnished and just a few blocks from the school. It's only a few minutes walk, which is nice because I tend to be the type of person who runs late in the morning. School starts at 7:15 and ends by 1:40, leaving plenty of time for my afternoon nap. I could definitely get used to this schedule! I'm teaching English to three sections of energetic seventh graders. Some days are quite challenging, but I enjoy them. The school week runs from Sunday to Thursday, Friday we go to church, and Saturday is the day off.

We've (when I say we, I mean the other volunteers and I) met some great people from church who have been showing us around town a bit. Last weekend we drove out to the desert to see the tree of life, which is essentially the only tree in the middle of vast nothingness. Supposedly the tree has been there for hundreds or possibly thousands of years and now has become somewhat of a hangout. I enjoyed it.

The tree of life.

the desert