Cinnamon Zone

A couple of years ago we've been introduced to the Jordan First slogan. We'd see it on billboards, on bumper stickers, in magazines, just about everywhere. Our government succeeded in implementing the slogan nation wide that it has become something like a national anthem.

However, our government seemed to have forgotten a rather important slogan that we were more than familiar with years before Jordan First came into existence. If you haven't guessed it yet, let me just remind you of those badges we used to hook tour school bags as kids, those that had the picture of the King, with a line underneath the picture that read: "The Human is our most valuable resource" Or الإنسان أغلى ما نملك

When the standard of living in Jordan becomes so high and everything becomes so expensive that people start fleeing out looking for a decent life for their kids, when someone tells you that he won't go back to Amman because he doesn't want the day to come when his daughter asks him to buy her something and he tells her "I don't have money", when life becomes too expensive that anyone with a monthly income under 500 JD's is considered under the line of poverty and when the percentage of poverty in some areas reaches 80%, all that and much more means one thing: The human being is no more our most valuable resource.

That's the ugly truth so let's just face it. As the bar of poverty keeps rising, the prices rise along. Case in point, the latest blatant rise in gas prices. Just in the middle of the bleak harsh winter our wise government decide to raise the price of the gas cylinder to 9,90 JDs. I wonder if they have given any thought as to how all those Jordanian living under the line of poverty would fare in this situation. And you know what? I don't want to hear excuses, I don't want the government to explain, because it won't change anything, and I don't think anyone is buying it. I think Hajjaj expressed it much better than me…

W: Unfair to who?

O: to women

W: We do that to ourselves because we are the ones who voted

O: Ok, we voted, but what about women whose husbands decide their choice of candidates?

So finally it’s Election Day. It wasn’t until recently that that I did some serious thinking and decided I should vote. Yet, I had no clear idea whom I was voting for. Every time I decide to vote for someone they turn out to be in another precinct. As for the ones in my district I didn’t know any of them, except for an old friend of my mother’s and a relative of a friend. Yet, I didn’t feel like voting for them because I didn’t want to feel guilty for voting for someone “I know” while I really didn’t. So, I decided that I’d cross that bridge when I came to it, no need to rush.

So, as I approached the entrance, I started to worry about how “smooth” this will be. There was a crowd of girls and women gathered in front of the gate, so I thought I would have to wait sometime before entering. But it turned out that it was much ado about nothing. All of them seemed to be supporters of different candidates so they waited at the gate handing out pictures and brochures of their respective candidates. I was given some myself, read some of what was written on one of them and then decided I was still going to vote for the woman I saw earlier.

As I mentioned earlier, it all went very smooth, way better than I’d imagined. There were people to guide you all the way to the ballot box and all. So, when I finally got there, I handed over my ID, not knowing what was about to happen to it. I even asked them if I could take pictures for the polling hall but they said it wasn’t allowed.  I filled my ballot and inserted it in the box, then I turned to take my ID back and OH MY GOD! What have they done to you my dear Identification Document! 4 years ago in the previous parliamentary elections I had my ID tattooed with a star as to say I had already voted. Now, the poor thing was mutilated.

That was it! I left the room in awe over the deformed ID, so I fished the camera out of my bag and took a picture of it. Seems like it wasn’t a very wise thing to do, because a policeman stopped me saying: “What is this? What are you doing with this camera?” And he said it in a way that made my heart sink within me. “Oh no! They are not going to confiscate my camera!” I told him I was picturing my ID and that I was already running out of battery. He was a nice guy anyway and told me to hide it so they wouldn’t take it at the gate.

So, that pretty much was it. It didn’t take so much as 15 minutes, and although I don’t think my candidate will win but I had to admit I basically did this for me. I didn’t want to feel guilty for being passive, negative or politically alienated. Anyway, I hope something good will come out of this. I don't want to have my ID mutilated in vain.