Aaron and Anne-Sophie

There was a rare landslide in a small village not far from Sanaa. Last I heard 30 people were killed and many were still missing. The cause of the landslide is still unknown. I’m not sure if that made the news in other parts of the world.

However we were even more surprised to see the BBC news footage of Egyptian police dispersing (quite violently) a crowd of Sudanese refugees protesting outside the UNHCR building in Cairo. Basically identical to what happened here, Sudanese like the Somali refugees in Sanaa were protesting/camping outside the UN Refugee Center for days demanding more rights or a chance to seek refuge in another country that can give them a better status. Unforunately the dispersing of the Somali refugees here didn’t get the same news coverage. We did meet someone who actually filmed some of it on his cell phone. If there’s anyone out there that has any ideas on how we can get the Somalis more press to help their cause, let me know. At least write and complain to the UNHCR (see previous blogs for the link) for not doing anything to help these refugees. Frankly though I’m worried for them, and it’s been a while since any of my Somali contacts have updated me on what’s happening.

This weekend we were invited to lunch twice; On Thursday by our manager to eat at his home and on Friday, by one of our students, who is one of the head pharmacists for the Ministry of Health. New Horizons has a deal with the Ministry of Health, so many of our students work with them. As usual Yemeni lunch invitations start off with a trip to buy some qat, and then waiting in the living room with some of the males of the household, while the women and children help prepare the meal in another room. When the food is ready we are shuttled off into another room with a feast awaiting us on the floor. We end up gorging ourselves with more than we should, and one has to do so in order to just try everything served to you. Afterwards we move back into the living room to chew qat. They then usually allow Anne-Sophie to go meet and join the women at this point, as she is able to take part in both the male and female worlds. The waiting, the lunch, and qat chewing take around 5 hours or more. Most of that time is of course devoted to qat chewing, when time flies as you sit there picking through leaves and storing them at the side of your mouth. Suddenly it’s almost sunset and time to go home.

After our time at our manager’s on Thursday, we were energized enough by the qat to go visit Ludvi’s cafe later that night. I always like going there because of the diversity of folk that are there and because he always treats us like VIP’s. There are several Yemeni men of course, chewing qat and smoking shisha. Some just sit there alone contemplating. Depending if there’s a soccer match or not, several men are glued to the TV and you always here an occasional roar from them if someone scores a goal. Then there are a variety of young Malaysian/Indonesian and Syrian students who come grab quick bite (a falafel sandwich), and to grab a peek at the match. There’s always a Somalian guy that comes in that I’ve only talked to once, but whenever I see him we always give each other wave of the hand and glance of the eye to acknowledge each other like we are good friends. Hand waves of greeting tend to be a mix of hand wave and an army salute, because they start from about eye level close to your head and move outward to act like a regular hand wave. It’s just curious that one has to have some sort of eye contact when doing it, similar to French manners of always giving eye contact when you put champagne or wine glasses together to give cheers to one another. Anyway like the old TV show “Cheers,” it’s sort of the place where everyone knows your name, at least my face . . . I still get the “American? But your face is similar to Chinese or Korean.” Beyond the fact that they don’t see many Asians outside of martial arts films and even rarer, an Asian American in a film, people here take family origins very seriously. One’s family name is important, tracing one back some say to families and tribes in Biblical times. Along with the importance of tribe over country, comes also one’s family reputation that comes with the name. Also homeland is important especially for refugees who had to leave their country because of political economic circumstances. So one’s descent seems more important than the passport one is able to hold. For many of the Iraqis we meet, Yemen will never be home for them despite being here for over a decade.

As we watch the Iraqis sit and play dominoes and compare them to the Yemenis playing dominoes, there’s a huge difference. Yemenis despite being poor and less educated, with the right amount of Qat are more content with their situation here. Their lives aren’t still as touched by globalization as much as others. Even the other day, we met a waiter from a village who didn’t know how far America was and whether or not one could drive from there to Yemen. Though I wouldn’t bet my life on an average American knowing exactly where Yemen is either. The Yemenis play dominoes slowly, quietly, and more relaxed. Iraqis come to Ludvi’s cafe to forget about their lives. It’s been a struggle to make a living in Yemen for Iraqis especially since the new war in Iraq. Given their education and how hard they work for a lesser standard of living they had in Iraq, it’s frustrating for them. At the same time it’s frustrating that the situation in Iraq now is still so bad that they still have to stay here. Some want to go back to Iraq. Some, like Ludvi, are tired of the Arab world as a whole. Every time we see him, he says, “Laazim, dhaoruri USA. Yemen, no!” which basically means “I must (go to) the US.” And everytime we just say we don’t know how. The Iraqis vent their frustration out on the dominoes. They slam the dominoes authoritatively with each move and play with passion. Losing at dominoes is a cause for a little yelling at your partner for the mistakes he made. Perhaps they feel they have little else to win in life. Though it’s not so uncommon in every country I’ve been in to see people passing time away partly by venting their frustration from a meaningless or dead-end job through drinking, watching TV, shopping, working more, etc. For the Iraqis at this cafe however, you see the drama of their lives played out with the sometimes random and sometimes controlable placing of dominoe tiles. And all one can say in such a situation to encourage them in Arabic is “Ilaab batal!” or “Play on Hero!”