Amman, Jordan

I can't decide if I have a lot to report, or nothing at all. I've been in Amman since last Tuesday, and while I have done very little, I feel I have learned a great deal from this city and its people.

On Wednesday a desert sandstorm created an urban duststorm here in Amman, blocking out the sun and causing temperatures to drop dramatically. An eerie yellow haze fell over the city and visibility was reduced to one or two blocks. On Thursday afternoon rain began to fall, and by Friday evening the dust had been washed from the sky. Today it is bright and sunny again.

Friday morning I visited the Mosque of the Martyr King Abdullah bin Al-Hussein. The mosque itself was fairly unattractive, making ample use of baby-blue tile better suited for public restrooms than a house of worship. But the custodian of the mosque was a font of useful information, demonstrating an unusually dispassionate understanding of Arab Islam. He confirmed my growing suspicion that Saudi Arabia is the only Muslim country where Sufism isn't a significant (if not the dominant) source of popular Muslim faith -- hardly the marginal movement that many scholarly texts (and media sources) represent it to be.

More than anything, I've just been hanging out and talking to people -- shop owners, street vendors, cab drivers, and random passers-by. Most of the people I've met have been displaced Palestinians, but there have also been several Egyptians and an occasional Jordanian or two. Without exception, they have all been remarkably kind and generous. They have also been painfully willing to discuss current events -- Iraq, Palestine, Israel, and Islamic terrorism. Sandwiched between the West Bank and Iraq, Saudi Arabia and Syria, it all hits very close to home here in Amman. Last week's news bleeds into next week's news with some predictability:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/middle_east/4764366.stm

Eventually, every conversation turns to Israel, its occupation of the Palestinian Territories, and America's unwaivering support for that occupation. What do I say to an elderly Palestinian gentleman whose eyes are filled with tears as he struggles to let out a dignified, "Why?" I just feel young and foolish and part of something very, very cruel. My liberal leftist politics, born of privilege, shatter under the weight of his pain, and I am exposed for what I am -- dumb. This isn't self-loathing so much as self-understanding. No room for sarcasm here.

Tomorrow morning I will take a service taxi to the King Hussein Bridge and cross the Jordan River into the West Bank. By nightfall I will be in Jerusalem, in a comfortable three-star hotel, enjoying my first beer in several weeks. My new friend will be left asking, "Why?"

(Photo by Eric: Policeman, Petra, Jordan)