Life in the Badia, pt. 1 -- Introduction and stories

Two days ago I returned from living with a Bedouin family in Jordan’s northern Badia desert. I spent four days in Umm al-Qatayn, a village of roughly 12,000 2 km from Syria and the largest Bedouin village in the area.

My homestay father was Farhan Dhadal (Abu Zaid); he is the mukhtar (a Bedouin tribal elder) for his family, the largest in Umm al-Qatayn. He and my mother, Umm Zaid, have seven children, four of whom I met: Zaid, the eldest son at twenty-four, who visited while I was there from the air force to work on the second story of the family house, his home-to-be after he marries in one month; Rafidah, eighteen, the middle daughter; Alla’, sixteen, the youngest daughter; and Annis, fourteen, the youngest son.



The family (with anonymous cousin in black hijab).

Story time: When I first arrived, Umm Zaid showed me into the welcoming room, a large space whose walls are lined with mattresses and pillows. After ten minutes or so, Farhan makes his entrance. Though he’s maybe five feet tall, it’s obvious why he’s mukhtar. ... He was with his cousin Autif (a new father, Abu Hamza) who speaks a little English, so the get-to-know you chat went smoothly enough. Lunch is served, more people come to visit and see the new white kid at Farhan’s house – everyone smiles and laughs and has a good time listening to my kindergarten Arabic.

Except the women are smiling and laughing a little too much. I noticed this at first when I met Rafidah and Alla’, but it was much more obvious when Farhan’s sister, her friend, and the friend’s two daughters and son-in-law Omar showed up. At first I thought it was just that I was the cute new American boy; I sat talking with Farhan, Omar, and Annis while they all huddled in a corner giggling to themselves. As I started to pick up on some of their private conversation, Omar, an English teacher in the neighboring village Umm Kefteh, noticed my piqued curiosity.

“You look like a character from their favorite television show.”

Noor, to be exact, a late-nite Turkish soap. The village literally shuts down at ten o’clock as all the woman tune in to MBC 4 to watch Noor and her rich friends and family navigate the perilous waters of the Bosphorus bourgeoisie: working too late when your wife is pregnant, not having enough money to buy your thirty year-old daughter an ’08 Mercedes, or counseling your middle school step-daughter for the undue attention her uni-brow attracts. The character in question is Muhanid, the male lead opposite the very attractive (of course, curse you fiction!) Noor herself. The selling point: blue eyes and the beard. Go figure that Badia women don’t see too many blue-eyed Europeans in real life; for the rest of the trip I was affectionately known as Muhanid (sword in Arabic). And given that I lived with the mukhtar and towered at least six inches over everyone else in the village, Sheikh Muhanid seemed the only reasonable title.

That evening saw a visit to Abu Zaid’s youngest brother, Abu Hasin. He and Farhan’s good friend Sultan had both just returned from the Haj, which meant holy water and prayer beads from Mecca for the guest.

Furthermore, the Bedu drink coffee the way God intended: black, hairy, and all day long. The best part about Bedu culture is that it’s rude not to drink shit-tons of coffee and tea all the time. Visit a friend? Coffee and tea. After breakfast/lunch/dinner snack? Coffee and tea. No good reason at all? Coffee and tea. The tea is served as one-part tealeaf, nine-parts sugar, but they do it right – loose leaf only, occasionally mixing it up with mint leaves or milk. And everyone smokes. You had better take that Winston Light you’re being offered lest you incur strange glances. I didn’t mind.

One of my goals for this trip (alongside squeezing off a few rounds from a Kalashnikov atop a camel) was to play pickup soccer with a group of local boys. Check. I haven’t a lick of skill at the Game, but for those two days I sure did bend it like Beckham. Nevermind that I was a full foot taller and eight years older and playing with a half-inflated ball on rocks, gravel, and an asphalt road.