For a lot of people at home, our perception of Arab countries and people comes from what we see on the news. War torn lands, refugees fleeing, dictators and human rights abuses are the messages we are bombarded with. And dismally, for some people and places, this is the case. But what about the other side of the coin? There has to be some good, right?
I remember going into an office where I worked last year in Edinburgh and saying 'good morning' to a colleague who literally blanked me and walked on by, clutching her coffee. There is a definite possibility that this person just didn't like me (I can be annoyingly perky at work) but there is also something about the way we greet each other.
The Arabic language, frustratingly difficult though it is, is rich and beautiful. There are so many ways to greet each other that form a lovely daily ritual. My favourite exchanges are between men, calling 'habibi' (my beloved) to each other in the street or across offices, and women, warmly greeting each other with a minimum of 3 kisses on cheeks. It is not unusual to ask each other several times in one conversation 'how are you?', a pretty little conversational dance I have grown to adore.
This also reflects the slower pace of life and difference in priorities in comparison to what I am used to at home. In the NGO office where I'm doing an internship, my manager takes the time to chat with me every morning about life and work, it might only be for 5 minutes but they are an important 5 minutes that make my morning positive and motivating. In the afternoon, the team enjoy an impromptu lunch of a variety of delicious snacks from the local supermarket, everyone sharing together. There is an Arabic saying 'salt and bread' which is used to highlight the importance of sharing food together in building friendships, and it's really true. I love these moments, particularly when someone passes the office and is immediately invited to join us and should refuse a minimum of 3 times before they are allowed to leave!
In Tunisia, I am ashamed to say that for the first time in my life, I saw children as a wonderful part of society as opposed to seeing them as mainly noisy and annoying. At home, we have parks and cinemas etc, but all too often children are put in adult environments and told to 'behave like grown ups'. Here, children are allowed to be children regardless of where they are and appreciated as they are. Thanks to the closeness of extended families, inter-generational relations are also far more common place.
The next one is perhaps a little biased, but hey, it's my blog and I'll write if I want to :) Imagine, we each had an invitation throughout the day to take 5 minutes to relax, breathe and refocus on what's important. This is how I feel about the 'adhan', call to prayer. I love hearing it, I love watching people stop, taxi drivers in car parks putting their heads to the ground seeking peace and refuge from life's daily stresses. Even if you don't accept the invite, you know it's always there!
Finally, it's the feeling of being safe, which being a woman in this world is more of a luxury than a right. It may sound strange to say I feel safe in Palestine, of course I'm talking about personal safety and as a visitor I am not living the same experience as Palestinians of checkpoints, soldiers and daily violence committed against them. However, in the Ramallah streets or in the avenues of Tunis, I feel protected. Palestinians lived for years without formal law enforcement like police, well respected community leaders were responsible for justice and did so through mediation. No justice system is perfect but perhaps the sense of 'us' as a community as opposed to 'us and them' created a greater sense of security.
I would like to end this post by sharing an Arabic proverb with you which reflects my experience of living in Arab countries, with the kindest people I've ever known;
I remember going into an office where I worked last year in Edinburgh and saying 'good morning' to a colleague who literally blanked me and walked on by, clutching her coffee. There is a definite possibility that this person just didn't like me (I can be annoyingly perky at work) but there is also something about the way we greet each other.
The Arabic language, frustratingly difficult though it is, is rich and beautiful. There are so many ways to greet each other that form a lovely daily ritual. My favourite exchanges are between men, calling 'habibi' (my beloved) to each other in the street or across offices, and women, warmly greeting each other with a minimum of 3 kisses on cheeks. It is not unusual to ask each other several times in one conversation 'how are you?', a pretty little conversational dance I have grown to adore.
This also reflects the slower pace of life and difference in priorities in comparison to what I am used to at home. In the NGO office where I'm doing an internship, my manager takes the time to chat with me every morning about life and work, it might only be for 5 minutes but they are an important 5 minutes that make my morning positive and motivating. In the afternoon, the team enjoy an impromptu lunch of a variety of delicious snacks from the local supermarket, everyone sharing together. There is an Arabic saying 'salt and bread' which is used to highlight the importance of sharing food together in building friendships, and it's really true. I love these moments, particularly when someone passes the office and is immediately invited to join us and should refuse a minimum of 3 times before they are allowed to leave!
In Tunisia, I am ashamed to say that for the first time in my life, I saw children as a wonderful part of society as opposed to seeing them as mainly noisy and annoying. At home, we have parks and cinemas etc, but all too often children are put in adult environments and told to 'behave like grown ups'. Here, children are allowed to be children regardless of where they are and appreciated as they are. Thanks to the closeness of extended families, inter-generational relations are also far more common place.
The next one is perhaps a little biased, but hey, it's my blog and I'll write if I want to :) Imagine, we each had an invitation throughout the day to take 5 minutes to relax, breathe and refocus on what's important. This is how I feel about the 'adhan', call to prayer. I love hearing it, I love watching people stop, taxi drivers in car parks putting their heads to the ground seeking peace and refuge from life's daily stresses. Even if you don't accept the invite, you know it's always there!
Finally, it's the feeling of being safe, which being a woman in this world is more of a luxury than a right. It may sound strange to say I feel safe in Palestine, of course I'm talking about personal safety and as a visitor I am not living the same experience as Palestinians of checkpoints, soldiers and daily violence committed against them. However, in the Ramallah streets or in the avenues of Tunis, I feel protected. Palestinians lived for years without formal law enforcement like police, well respected community leaders were responsible for justice and did so through mediation. No justice system is perfect but perhaps the sense of 'us' as a community as opposed to 'us and them' created a greater sense of security.
I would like to end this post by sharing an Arabic proverb with you which reflects my experience of living in Arab countries, with the kindest people I've ever known;
No comments:
Post a Comment