Cinnamon Zone

I remember the first time it pulled into the garage. It seemed too big and elegant at the time, like no other car we'd ever owned. It was a dark gray, or as my mother called it, "Feerany". We’d jump at any chance to have a ride, even if it was a short drive to the dullest places.

Around 2 years later, our Daewoo earned its new name. When my sister got her driver license and started to ask frequently to use the car, my father was often reluctant to let her take it and many times he refused to let her. So she was like: "Fine, let 3azeezeh stay parked forever then!"

I remember very well the first time we got far on our own with 3azeezeh. It took some effort to convince my dad, the over concerned parent, to let my sister, the new driver, hit the traffic-stricken roads of Amman alone. But you can say we were saved by the bell, the telephone bell that is. There was that friend of my sister who my father didn't particularly like. She gave my sister a call, and me, and idea. I told my sister we can tell dad that this girl called and she wanted to come by. If you give us the car we can go out and spare you the agony of her visit. We did as we planned. I went straight to my father and told him that, and then left the room waiting for the plan to take effect. A moment later, he my dad called out for my sister with these exact words I can remember: "Hala… khodeeha!" (Hala, take it)

We dressed up as fast as we could lest he change his mind. Then we set out for our tiny trip, passed by her friend Nancy who was working at Burger King at the time, dropped her off to work and then dropped by my uncle's house, where we picked up my cousin Rania and her friend Rasha for a short drive. After that on the way home, my sister decided to bring dad something he likes, you know that kind of strategy. At that time there were few things my father loved more than knafeh, and it was a good choice actually to put him in the mood.

Many factors contributed to 3azeeze's decay over the years. All of us had our fair share in turning it from the shimmering gray giant to the worn-out veichle it is now, with a malfunctioning accelerator. Even I had driven it once or twice, though I don't have a driver license, and it's no secret I don't have more skills at driving than an ostrich does at hiding. Which reminds me, did you know that when an ostrich tucks its head away in the sand it's looking for water, not trying to hide?

I don't think I can by any means mention all the accidents 3azeezeh went through. But perhaps the worst was the one we had on the way from Kerak to Amman in 1999. We decided to take the notorious Ghor Al-safi road instead of the usual highway. There was a problem with the steering wheel, but we didn't know it at the time. So at one turn of the steep road the car suddenly spun out of control. It was spinning so fast that I felt like I saw my own face with my very eyes, before it crashed to a stop. It was horrifying, but we were really grateful it wasn't worse. The car was spinning near the edge of some 400 meters deep abyss, and yet it didn't fall down, nor did it hit the rocks on the other side. The spot it hit was a dusty patch between the rocks. Certainly Allah satar.

I remember how I stepped out of the car without so much as looking to see where I was setting my foot. Elhadmdu lillah it wasn't near the edge, or I might've ended up rolling down the valley. There was so much dust filling the air that I couldn't see anything around. My uncle, who was driving a head of us with his family, said that when he saw the accident and all the dust he didn't think we made it. His wife' was blushed with fear and their daughter was crying hysterically.

Although we couldn't see it at the time, but there was something funny in all this. As the car lay crashed on the side of the road, with one of the rims tainted black and tossed away from it, my little brother who was  3 years old at that time was standing near the wrecked car weeping and crying out: Inkasar 3ajal el Daewoo :( He cried so hard that at last my mother had to pick the burned rim off the ground, and walk around holding it in one hand, and holding my brother’s hand with the other. We were too shocked to notice how hilarious they looked!

I had a bag of candy in the car. Naturally, I forgot all about it, as I stood there traumatized, with my shoulder hurting so bad that I couldn't even tie my own hair. Then all of a sudden my cousin, who was 9 years old, came to me holding the bag of candy, and was like: Are you gonna eat this? I don't know why I never reminded him of it, now that he's a grown up :D

Now my father is a really good driver, but the problem is that he takes it as a hobby, so he likes to try his maneuvering skills from time to time, not to mention his psycho-driving theories: How to scare other drivers into letting you through, which makes it a little bit of a roller coaster ride with him, and gets him in trouble sometimes. My sister is his alter ego in that matter, with some few differences in attitude. My mother, however, is one of the best drivers I know, she doesn't drive as if she was chased by the CIA, but at the same time, she's not so slow as to make you wanna jump out of the window. No wonder, for her father owned a driving training center and she learned to drive at an early age. So as you see, except for me, driving does run in the family. I have an uncle who has a hobby for obtaining different kinds of driving licenses. He's got a license to drive those big trucks and trailers, not that he needs it, but it's just a hobby. I don't know, maybe I do possess some driving skills of my own, but I used to think of driving lessons as a burden, so I don't know if I even enjoy it! Besides, when it comes to driving, I have really slow reflexes.

There's been much talk about 3azeezeh the last year: What are we gonna do with it? Especially with 3azeezeh #2 coming into play. Of course 3azeezeh #2 was much younger and more elegant, not to mention smoother with a full power steering instead of 3azeezeh's rudder. I think 3azeezeh would've been jealous if it could, for my father was really fond of 3azeezeh #2, and never ceased to give my sister instructions as to how to take a good care of it. You know how girls think all the car needs is fuel and a cute puppet stuck to the rear window. Not to mention a yellow bumper sticker saying: "Daddy's girl" or some such thing. Sadly though, 3azeezeh #2 kicked the bucket when my sister crashed it on the day of her engagement. A killer Mercedes slammed it to the side of the road, leaving it creased like a low-grade test paper. Anyone who saw how it looked wouldn't probably believe the driveress of that very car was celebrating her engagement few hours afterwards.

And so, all the talk about selling 3azeezeh after my sister left Jordan was gone with the wind, and once again we found ourselves face to face with 3azeezeh. I don't know what's to become of her, or whether she will have a new name having a new driver at home, but for me it will always be 3azeezeh, the car I'll probably never dare to drive.

Using photos is an option.

Hospitals are probably the place where life and death most commonly intersect. Last week after my grandmother went to the hospital to check on a grandchild, who'd just given birth, she told us about a traumatized family she'd seen there. She said their daughter had fallen off the Tower building in Jabal Amman. Her family were crying and wailing hysterically in the hallways. People were helping her sisters to their feet as they fell to the ground from shock. She said they seemed like a poor family. As she told us, someone said that it's quite a strange thing for the girl to have fallen from there, and that she maybe killed herself. I can't deny it occurred to me, but in an effort to refrain from judgment I blurted out at once: Maybe she was cleaning the windows…

As it turned out, it was just the right thing to assume. This morning a certain report on Alarabiya caught my attention. It was the same accident we were talking about a week ago.15 year-old Zohoor had fallen from the fifth floor as she was cleaning the windows in a "building in Amman", but of course they didn't mention name. If you'd seen her family and the house they live in, you probably would've understood at once why a girl so young had been tangled in the net of child labor. The report then went on to talk about child laborers in Jordan and even interviewed some kids who left school to be prematurely integrated in the labor market.

The question that arises now is: How could a girl of 15 years be assigned the task of cleaning windows in the fifth floor? I could hardly think of this as a woman's job, how much less a child's! I wonder who's responsible for this and whether the impoverished family would afford to do anything to seek justice.

I can vaguely imagine her climbing up, grasping the window frame with one hand and a worn out rag with the other. Her grip tightens as she sets her foot on the outer edge of the window, while carefully mopping the glass. Maybe she was staring out to the beautiful view from that building, which is renowned to have the best view of Amman. I wonder what was going through her mind then, or if she even took notice of the view at all. I can't even imagine that she loved the city to see the beauty of it while she was up there mopping the windows at 15. Whatever she was thinking, what perplexes me more is what was going through that same mind as she was falling down. It might seem too short a time think, but it probably had seemed longer to her. I wonder whether she saw death coming or hoped she would survive.

Zohoor might have died, but hundreds of children are still facing the daily hazards of working at places some adults even refuse to set a foot in. Children must be kept at home, sent to school and taken well care of, if not by their parents then by any other official body, it's not their job to make a living. I really don't know on whom falls the blame here. On the government? The parents? The society? The employer? All of those share the responsibility to secure the children's need to shelter, care and education. What if the family is completely destitute so they send their child to work? What if the employer hired them out of sympathy? It's quite ironic what sympathy could come to in these times!

The world seem to have been a dangerous place for Zohoor, and it certainly is for many other children like her. Zohoor is probably now in a much better place, but it's our responsibility to make sure the world she left wouldn't stay as cruel for those who are staying.

I often wondered about the origin of some of the superstitious habits practiced among people in our society, such as lighting incense to revoke envy and such stuff. This morning I heard something interesting on TV about "blue beads" that are thought by some people to protect from envy (I don't know if anyone still holds that belief). It was actually interesting, so I did some search and found other interesting things…

في التلفزيون قالوا: اختار قدماء المصريين اللون الأزرق بالذات لكرههم له، والسبب أنّ غزاتهم من الهكسوس ومن ثم اليونان كانوا يملكون عيونا زرقاء، فأصبح اللون الأزرق رمزا للشؤم، وحتى عندما يأتيهم خبر سيئ كانوا يقوون: يا دي النيلة (درجة من درجات الأزرق)

 من النت:

- أما أسطورة الربط بين الخرزة الزرقاء ودفع الحسد فتعود إلى الفراعنة حيث يُحكى قديماً أنهم أمنوا بكون الحلي المصنوعة من الخرز الأزرق لها قوى وآثار سحرية تقي مقتنيها من السحر والحسد والأمراض إلى جانب وظيفتها في الزينة. وقد اختلفت أنواع الحلي حسب اختلاف الحالة الاجتماعية، فالأغنياء استخدموا الأحجار الكريمة بينما العامة اختاروا الخرز المصقول لبخس ثمنه. وسر أهمية اللون الأزرق والذي يرمز للإله رع عند المصريين القدماء فتعود لارتباطه بزرقة السماء حيث كانوا يعتقدون أن الآلهة تعيش فيها وتحمي الإنسان وتباركه.

 - والنساء يعتقدن أن الخرز الأزرق والكفوف تقي من الحسد، والكف المعروف (بالخمسةوخميسة) إما يُعلق أو بدلاً منه تدفع المرأة بكف يدها بعد فرد الأصابع الخمسة فيوجه من تظنها حسودة مع ذكر العدد خمسة ومضاعفاته أو كلمات مرتبطة به كقولهن (اليوم الخميس) (الطفل وزنه خمسة كيلوغرامات).

- والنساء يفعلن ذلك ولا يعلمن أصل هذاالموضوع الذي يعود إلى طقوس السحر التي تؤمن بأن لكلٍّ عدد ولكل حرف خواص، وأن العدد خمسة وكف اليد بها ذبذبات طاقة الدفاع وحتى تمنع الأذى عن جسم الإنسان أو مايخصه إذا ما دُفعت في وجه الحسود·

وفي الأعراس يستخدم الناس البخور، ويرشون الملح، وهم لا يعلمون أصل هذه العادة، لكنهم يمارسونها وتعتبر من الأدوات التي كان يستخدمها السحرة والكهنة في الجاهلية، وكانوا يحرقون البخور أمام الأصنام والسحرة لاسترضاء من يتعاملون معهم من الجن، وتختلف رائحة البخور حسب العمل المطلوب، فإذاكان المطلوب فك سحر، استخدم البخور طيب الرائحة، أما إذا كان المطلوب عمل سحر سيئ فالبخور المستخدم يكون خبيث الرائحة·

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You know how afternoons could be the dullest time of the day if you don't find something good to do. I'm sure I had many things to do today instead of watching TV, but since I was having my lunch, I sat watching TV being switched from channel to channel, and it turned out to be more interesting then I thought that I ended up blogging this.

Before I go into further details, I should note the channels I'll mention now are all rabic channels, or supposed to be, for the definition of that word has been lost in translation. On the first channel, there was a provocative perfume commercial. On the second, there was than female singer who looked somehow familiar, but nothing like decent. On the third there was an Arabic movie with man and woman lying naked under white sheets. And on the fourth channel, there was a semi-naked woman from some Arabic movie for Adel Imam (That man has no shame or respect for his age).

I was so bugged that I left the living room and went to sit somewhere away from TV. It is embarrassing enough to watch such things with one's own father, but it wasn't the only thing that annoyed me. You see, the way women are promoted by the media a sex icons, how much more if it's the Arabic media. Whatever happened to all the accomplished Arab women? I can't deny there are good shows that acknowledge these women, but I don't think they re getting the due attention and publicity compared to flamboyant singers and hot actresses.

Let me try to put it this way, and I'm not going to hold a comparison between a humanitarian activist and a semi-porn-star, I'll make it between 2 women who basically, or seemingly, do the same thing, each in her different way.

About a month or so ago Haifa Wahby had an accident. News of her accident spread all around like wild fire and millions of people must have seen the video on Youtube or some other website. She made the news, do you know what it means when a woman who is actually a sex icon more than anything else makes the news for a simple accident? Not that she was dead or killed, but merely something went wrong on the set and she hurt herself.

Now, what if a similar thing happened, let's say to Julia Butrus. How much publicity you think it would receive? Of course many of the rising generation don't even know who Julia Butrus is. To make sure not to be slanderous, I've just asked my 11 year-old brother whether he knows who Julia Butrus is. He said he didn't know, and after a short pause he said he thinks her name was mentioned in one of his school books, which certainly is not. While I can confidently assure you he knows very well who Haifa is and what she sings and has known that for many years.

No matter how we scream for the right of women to be taken seriously, there's always that tendency to think of women from a certain angle. Sadly, this perspective is even encouraged by some of the women themselves. I believe many factors lead to this, including the most common stereotypes and misconceptions, not only bout women, but also about men. It's probably believed and even taken for granted by many people that the only interest men take in women is purely sexual. Men give love to have sex, they pretend to enjoy a conversation with a woman while their minds are consumed in their own fantasies. A man who likes the way you think would never be attracted to you if he doesn't find you physically attractive, and so on....

These misconceptions are as unfair to men as they are to women. They depict the human relations as nothing more than an unbridled animal instinct, with no regard to any other aspects that would draw people to one another. I'm not trying to undermine the importance of the physical aspect of the relation, but I'm only saying it's not the only one. In fact, I believe all the aspects intertwine and are dependent on one another. But I also believe that preferring the physical aspect in particular is what provokes the worst problems.

I wouldn't mind this much had it been a pure personal matter that doesn't go beyond the individual's mindset. Everyone is free to think what they want. But when this mentality becomes promoted by the media, and women are depicted as if their sole purpose is to seduce men, then I do have a problem.

In all fairness, I have to say it's not only the Arabic media. Worst yet, this mentality I'm referring to is universally publicized and even acknowledged. It goes without saying that the image of women in the west is being promoted in the same way, not only the western world actually, it's everywhere actually. I'm currently reading Memoirs of a Geisha, and as much as I'm enjoying the book, I feel really disgusted and ticked off at what I'm finding out. You see, what I gathered from the book is that geisha were women whose main concern in life was to please men. It's even literally mentioned in the book. For example, when she says: "Nothing in my life mattered more to me than pleasing him". "him" refers to a man she likes, who is married (which is equally insulting to his wife) and who may have relations with a number of other geisha. I really feel a huge disgust when the narrator describes how she and another geisha bowed at the feet of a man begging for his attention. And how a doctor is sexually aroused as he treats the wound on a girl's leg. As I said, I'm enjoying the book, but it also told me so many unpleasant things about women in that culture. Call it heritage, call it art, I can only think of it as humiliation.

It's time women stood for themselves and defied those stereotypes. It's time they started to show the world that their brains an be even more beautiful than their bodies. And most importantly, it's time women felt humiliated by all that typical stereotyping, and did something to change it.

Such a beautiful song! I vaguely remember it from some years back, but when I heard it 2 days ago, it was as if I was hearing it for the first time…

Yesterday we attended the screening of 5 short films at the Royal Film Commission. The films were done by a group of 14 apprentice movie makers, who participated in a 5-week workshop held by the Royal Film Commission in collaboration with the University of South California.

Before giving the brief review, I should note that I'm not an art critic, so this is for the most part my personal opinion as a viewer and observer.

The first film: One Day

This film shed light on a very important issue that is somehow becoming an unspoken taboo, or rather the elephant in the room that most of us are unwilling to acknowledge. Does love fade away after marriage, or is it us who have very high expectations?  I can't say I fell in love with the film, maybe because I couldn't relate, but my cousin said that if I was married, I would probably have liked it. After all, I trust that the writer and the creator of the movie must have had a message to deliver through the movie, and it did get across. On another subject, I think there was a serious problem with the language. Apparently, the script was written in English and then literally translated into Arabic, which sort of caused and identity crisis for the movie. It felt like watching a dubbed version of The Young and the Restless.

The second film: By the Sidewalk

This was the one I liked the most. It's a movie that would make you laugh at the first and cry at the end. Ruba Haddad, who played the role of the homeless beggar did an awesome job and was extremely convincing. It was my favorite particularly because of the last scene, when her features softens, and all of a sudden she stops being the shrewd hobo cussing people out and calling them all kind of names. She turns out into a completely different person, and her dreamy eyes and faint smile say what you may take to mean: "I'm a human too". The film had a strong influence on the audience, which was very obvious in the long round of applause that followed the last frame.

The third film: Yasmina

I wasn't able to form an objective opinion on this one, since I was already familiar with the script, so I was technically waiting for the events to unfold. Honor crimes, a very important and sensitive subject, yet very complicated. Visually speaking, the film was really good, but I have more to say on the subject itself. As I said, the issue of honor crimes is very complicated. There is more to it than killing a female relative in the name of honor. It's about the Jordanian law imposing minor punishments on those who commit such crimes, so I was hoping for at least one allusion to that point. In all fairness, the writer said she was trying to focus on Islam's stance on this, but due to problems in sound editing some essential parts of the film were cut.

The fourth film

Well, what's in a name! I'm really embarrassed to say I forgot the name of the film! Not that it wasn't memorable enough, but I'm having memory issues. The film tackled a very important subject, parents and children alike complain about: teenage. What's the best way to teach teenagers responsibility and independence at the same time? And when they make a mistake, which is bound to happen, what's the best way to make them realize their mistake and learn from it? It reminded me of something my uncle once said, and I thought it was very true. He said: "None of us parents have an experience in raising kids, we are all experimenting." The film tackled the subject in a funny way, which made it appeal more to the audience. The film is very realistic, and I'm pretty sire it was based on a true story. But again, the elephant in the room.

The fifth film: The Other Side of My neighborhood

I'm glad they left this one for the end; it was really something, a very professional experience on all levels. Great script, great visual effects, great editing, great music and the actors did an amazing job too. As for the audience, it was a real human experience; for the film brought to light the problem of those we all know they live amongst us, but hardly take notice of. Proper notice that is. If I talked more about it, I would probably ruin it for those who want to watch it, so I'll just stop here.

I just want to note at the end that those guys did an awesome job and proved a high level of t