Assalamu Aleikum!
School breaktimes with the Bedouin are an interesting affair. We have 2 breaktimes at the school and no lunch break. We start school at 7am and so finish at 1pm in time for the kids to go home for lunch. The first break is a conventional playtime and the second is given over to Zuhr prayers.
We can usually tell when first break is starting by the camel calls coming from the boys. They have a technique for calling the camels which is a bit like shepherds in the UK whistling to their sheepdogs. Their call sounds more like shouting though. The teachers tell us that the boys love their camels and they love this call. Once in the playground the boys head as one towards the tuck shop. Stationed strategically at the tuck shop are teachers whose job it is to ensure good order in the queues. Queues, I hear you say. Queues and Muslims are not words you're likely to use in the same sentence. But it is our job to try to do just that. Once the queues have been established the boys buy some food. Food on sale include pizza, crisps, falafel & juice. The amount of food consumed is extraordinary. It's not unusual for one boy to have 3 bags of crisps, 2 pizzas and 4 juice drinks. As you can imagine there are a number of overweight boys.
As I was keeping order in the queues one day a teacher turned to me and said,"See that."
"See what?"
"Those boys sitting in groups."
I stared over to where he was pointing and sure enough there were groups of boys sitting in circles on the floor. Each group had about 10 boys.
"That's their tribe. They sit with their tribe."
And he started to name each tribe and the group they were sitting with. I expressed amazement at this and tried to compare it with my old school in the UK. After a long pause the teacher turned to me and said, "They want to be in the desert. They want to be with their camels. This is how they would sit in the desert."
Masalamah
Yahya
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
The Great Escape
Assalamu Aleikum!
As I sit here with December almost on us in my summer gear of T shirt and sandals one of the things I miss most is the Sunday afternoon film. The central heating would be turned up and I would settle back on the sofa with a steaming hot cup of coffee to watch Steve McQueen try to jump that barbed wire on his motorbike for the umpteenth time. Something about his character in the Great Escape always appealed. Maybe it was his attitude to authority or just the cool clothes and bike. Well, whatever it was that film has to rank as one of my all time favourites.
You are maybe thinking 'What's all this talk about daring escapes from Nazi POW camps?' Here in the middle of the UAE we had our own daring escape plan with me in the role of the German guard. The school I work at is a secondary school and an all boys one. So you can imagine surly Bedouin teenagers whose main aim in life is to avoid work and experience the pleasures beyond the school walls.
It started a few months ago when I was investigating the school property looking for opportunities to improve teaching and learning. I found various hidden corners but the best was an outside playground complete with basketball court, football pitch and volleyball court. It had a strange unkempt quality and so I asked the headteacher about it.
"Is it used?"
"No."
"Why not? It's great. You've got all these hormonally challenged teenagers with energy to run off and here, in the school, are 3 sports they could be playing."
"They escape."
"They what?"
"They escape. They climb the walls and run home."
I thought for a while. Yes, I had seen a high whitewashed wall around the playground. But the wall was at least 10 feet high. Kids couldn't scale that especially our ones who I had never seen break into a jog let alone a run.
Last month we'd put the finishing touches to our sporting programme to get the kids running and make breaktimes a bit more interesting. And yes, we'd decided to use the outside playground as well as the gym. Before the programme I went out to look at the walls one more time and muttered to myself 'Yeah, escape. Over the walls and away. I don't think so!'
The programme was a resounding success. Kids were queuing to join in and behaviour on the playground was much improved. The final day I volunteered to stand guard on the door to the playground to stop kids taking food out and wandering out without sports kit. Now, at this point I must state that there are a number of doors that lead into the playground and a few budding Steve McQueens must have found one, open and unlocked. Before you could say 'Achtung' a group of boys had made their way to a portion of the outside wall which was unseen by teachers supervising the sports. Having many years of practice as a teacher I sensed something wasn't right (it's called sixth sense I think!). I walked swiftly towards the wall in a way only teachers can - remaining in control but going like the clappers. I was just in time to see a foot disappear over the wall but also just in time to grab a Grade 6 Steve McQueen before he pulled himself over. With a firm grip on his leg and his left sandal in my possession I tried to persuade him back into the playground.
"Come down!"
"No!"
" Come down now! I'm not letting you go!"
"Kitab."
"What book?"
A bystander offered some advice. "His books are over the wall."
He shouted a few words over the wall and minutes later his book bag came sailing over. I glanced at the book bag, turned and looked at my escapee who had now jumped down. Finally I surveyed the crowd of boys enjoying the free entertainment on what might otherwise have been a boring breaktime for them. Taking to my new role as camp guard with relish I marched the boy off to the cooler (otherwise known as the social worker).
Later that day the headteacher's words came back to me 'They escape'. They certainly do and it's amazing how agile they are at scaling walls. The next step is to check for any tunnels.
Masalamah
Yahya
As I sit here with December almost on us in my summer gear of T shirt and sandals one of the things I miss most is the Sunday afternoon film. The central heating would be turned up and I would settle back on the sofa with a steaming hot cup of coffee to watch Steve McQueen try to jump that barbed wire on his motorbike for the umpteenth time. Something about his character in the Great Escape always appealed. Maybe it was his attitude to authority or just the cool clothes and bike. Well, whatever it was that film has to rank as one of my all time favourites.
You are maybe thinking 'What's all this talk about daring escapes from Nazi POW camps?' Here in the middle of the UAE we had our own daring escape plan with me in the role of the German guard. The school I work at is a secondary school and an all boys one. So you can imagine surly Bedouin teenagers whose main aim in life is to avoid work and experience the pleasures beyond the school walls.
It started a few months ago when I was investigating the school property looking for opportunities to improve teaching and learning. I found various hidden corners but the best was an outside playground complete with basketball court, football pitch and volleyball court. It had a strange unkempt quality and so I asked the headteacher about it.
"Is it used?"
"No."
"Why not? It's great. You've got all these hormonally challenged teenagers with energy to run off and here, in the school, are 3 sports they could be playing."
"They escape."
"They what?"
"They escape. They climb the walls and run home."
I thought for a while. Yes, I had seen a high whitewashed wall around the playground. But the wall was at least 10 feet high. Kids couldn't scale that especially our ones who I had never seen break into a jog let alone a run.
Last month we'd put the finishing touches to our sporting programme to get the kids running and make breaktimes a bit more interesting. And yes, we'd decided to use the outside playground as well as the gym. Before the programme I went out to look at the walls one more time and muttered to myself 'Yeah, escape. Over the walls and away. I don't think so!'
The programme was a resounding success. Kids were queuing to join in and behaviour on the playground was much improved. The final day I volunteered to stand guard on the door to the playground to stop kids taking food out and wandering out without sports kit. Now, at this point I must state that there are a number of doors that lead into the playground and a few budding Steve McQueens must have found one, open and unlocked. Before you could say 'Achtung' a group of boys had made their way to a portion of the outside wall which was unseen by teachers supervising the sports. Having many years of practice as a teacher I sensed something wasn't right (it's called sixth sense I think!). I walked swiftly towards the wall in a way only teachers can - remaining in control but going like the clappers. I was just in time to see a foot disappear over the wall but also just in time to grab a Grade 6 Steve McQueen before he pulled himself over. With a firm grip on his leg and his left sandal in my possession I tried to persuade him back into the playground.
"Come down!"
"No!"
" Come down now! I'm not letting you go!"
"Kitab."
"What book?"
A bystander offered some advice. "His books are over the wall."
He shouted a few words over the wall and minutes later his book bag came sailing over. I glanced at the book bag, turned and looked at my escapee who had now jumped down. Finally I surveyed the crowd of boys enjoying the free entertainment on what might otherwise have been a boring breaktime for them. Taking to my new role as camp guard with relish I marched the boy off to the cooler (otherwise known as the social worker).
Later that day the headteacher's words came back to me 'They escape'. They certainly do and it's amazing how agile they are at scaling walls. The next step is to check for any tunnels.
Masalamah
Yahya
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Ahlanwasalan (welcome)
Assalamu Aleikum!
One of the things I had no idea about before I came to work with the Bedouin in the UAE was how they greeted each other. I presumed, in my ignorance, that they shook hands and said 'Assalamu Aleikum'. If pushed I might have hazarded a guess that they would hug each other. I remembered reading an anthropological article many years ago that said the Arabs stood closest to each other when conversing. This was out of all the other peoples. If I remember rightly the British stood furthest apart!
When Bedouin men meet they touch noses much like the Eskimoes. It seems to only be the Bedouin as the ex-pat Arabs simply shake hands. It's wonderful to watch two men move their faces slowly together until their noses touch. For a split second they are looking each other in the eye with only an inch or so separating. It seems very intimate and for a good solid Briton a touch too intimate. A firm handshake seems more my cup of tea.
Masalamah
Yahya
One of the things I had no idea about before I came to work with the Bedouin in the UAE was how they greeted each other. I presumed, in my ignorance, that they shook hands and said 'Assalamu Aleikum'. If pushed I might have hazarded a guess that they would hug each other. I remembered reading an anthropological article many years ago that said the Arabs stood closest to each other when conversing. This was out of all the other peoples. If I remember rightly the British stood furthest apart!
When Bedouin men meet they touch noses much like the Eskimoes. It seems to only be the Bedouin as the ex-pat Arabs simply shake hands. It's wonderful to watch two men move their faces slowly together until their noses touch. For a split second they are looking each other in the eye with only an inch or so separating. It seems very intimate and for a good solid Briton a touch too intimate. A firm handshake seems more my cup of tea.
Masalamah
Yahya
Monday, November 26, 2007
Fajr adhan
Assalamu Aleikum!
I've moved to the town and have all facilities close at hand. My apartment is next door to a mosque and I was woken at 5.30am to the call to prayer. Unlike when I lived further out and it came gently over the sands this was much louder and urgent. One of my non-muslim colleagues found it quite annoying - he doesn't appreciate being woken so early!
This evening I sat on the roof of the apartment building and watched a football game between the local professional team and another team I didn't recognise. The view is amazing! I drank tea and let the warm breeze blow over me. It's a far cry from the cold winters in Wales. As I watched the game I also managed to look out over the town. Beyond the town limits are the endless dunes off into the Empty Quarter but within the town are date palm trees and lots of grass being endlessly watered. There seems to be an endless supply of water.
Long before I came to this part of the world I read most of Wilfred Thesiger's books. He was a British explorer from 1940s who travelled with the Bedouin through the Empty Quarter. It was a hard life with little to eat and even less to drink. The Bedouins I work with are descendants of those Thesiger met on his travels. Thesiger's books are well worth reading not only for their insight into desert life but also the insights he provides into Islamic society from this area.
I attach a photo of the view from my apartment.
Masalamah
Yahya
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Maghrib
Assalamu Aleikum
A photo of the land behind where I lived for the first few months here. I could hear the adhan over the dunes and knew it was time for prayer.
Masalamah
Yahya
A photo of the land behind where I lived for the first few months here. I could hear the adhan over the dunes and knew it was time for prayer.
Masalamah
Yahya
First Posting
Assalamu Aleikum to you all
Here I am in the Empty Quarter working in a school with Bedouin boys. When I first arrived here in the summer the heat was unbearable. Getting out of the airport it felt like a sauna. I caught a taxi to the city and had some relief with the air conditioning. But for the next few weeks I couldn't walk outside for more than about 10 minutes without the heat becoming too much. It's now November and the weather is beautiful. It's a bit like a hot summer's day back in the UK. I guess it's about 30 degrees celsius.
Bedouin culture is very traditional. Where I work women generally only venture outside to go shopping and are almost always accompanied by their husband. There is a lot to do for men - gyms, football games to watch or play etc. Talking about football all the matches are free as in you don't have to pay to watch. This is the national professional league as well. I went to one game in the local town/village and the crowd included some African cheerleaders complete with drums. They kept up their beating and singing all the way through.
I might as well mention the reason for the name 'habibi'. I believe it translates as darling or beloved. The locals use it in the way that some Londoners would use 'darling'. If you live here you get called it a lot.
Masalamah
Yahya
Here I am in the Empty Quarter working in a school with Bedouin boys. When I first arrived here in the summer the heat was unbearable. Getting out of the airport it felt like a sauna. I caught a taxi to the city and had some relief with the air conditioning. But for the next few weeks I couldn't walk outside for more than about 10 minutes without the heat becoming too much. It's now November and the weather is beautiful. It's a bit like a hot summer's day back in the UK. I guess it's about 30 degrees celsius.
Bedouin culture is very traditional. Where I work women generally only venture outside to go shopping and are almost always accompanied by their husband. There is a lot to do for men - gyms, football games to watch or play etc. Talking about football all the matches are free as in you don't have to pay to watch. This is the national professional league as well. I went to one game in the local town/village and the crowd included some African cheerleaders complete with drums. They kept up their beating and singing all the way through.
I might as well mention the reason for the name 'habibi'. I believe it translates as darling or beloved. The locals use it in the way that some Londoners would use 'darling'. If you live here you get called it a lot.
Masalamah
Yahya
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