Let's get political

Just this once.

One of my professors shared this anecdote about September 11th. I may get a few details wrong, but he was sitting in some pub or restaurant in England and saw it on the news. His first thought: I hope it wasn't a Muslim.

So when I saw the headline about an attempted car bombing in Times Square, my first thought was: I hope it's not an Arab. I hope it's not a Muslim. I hope it's some stupid white supremacist. Please.

Why? Because Arabs and Muslims don't need any more bad press.

This had been in my mind since the bomb attempt, but I really felt the desire to write about it after doing some reading for my America & the Arabs class the other day. This quotation is from America and Political Islam, by Fawaz A. Gerges, published by Cambridge University Press, in 1999.

"The equation of Islam with "terrorism" has done considerable damage to the image of Muslims in the United States, thus constraining U.S. policy makers from pursuing an accommodationist policy toward Islamists. Several polls conducted in the 1990s clearly show that Americans' images of Islam and Muslims can be dramatically affected by the latest headlines, particularly with respect to suspicions about terrorism. For instance, a poll conducted by coincidence on the very day of the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing revealed a sharp increase in negative attitudes toward Muslims. Afterward it became clear that this bombing was not related to Islamist terrorism, and subsequent polls showed a steady, statistically significant increase in "favorable" attitudes toward Muslims on a number of key issues."

I'm tired of this. That we blame terrorist acts on Muslims and Arabs, and ignorance reigns. Last fall, after mentioning to somebody that I was planning on studying in the Middle East, he informed me that it was a land full of - his exact words here - "Looney Tunes." Disgraceful.

But instead of whining about American nearsightedness, let me rave about Arab kindness. I've never lived among more welcoming people than those here. Even strangers. This is a fairly standard taxi conversation upon hailing a cab outside the university.

Driver: Tehke 'arabe? (Do you speak Arabic?)

Me: Shway shway. (A little.)

Driver: Tedroosee fee al jaame'a? (Do you study at the university?)

Me: Na'am. (Yes.)

Driver: Shu tedroosee? (What do you study?)

Me: Al lugha al 'arabiya. (Arabic language.)

Driver: Min wen inti? (Where are you from?)

Me: Amreeka. (America.)

Driver: [Shifting here into very loud and slightly broken English.] Aaamerrriiiikkaaa! Goood! Gooood!

Me: [Blushing.]

Driver: American people gooood. American government - baaad. Bad. Like Obama? Yes? Bush baaaaad. Obama good. [Repeat as desired.]

I love it. Really, I do. Even if it's the same conversation over and over - usually, after this, a driver will proceed into an Arabic lesson, trying to get me to speak as much as I can - it's so much fun to hear. Granted, I've never ridden in a cab in America, but I don't think they're as much fun as the ones here. (Disclaimer: I rode in a cab from my house to the Amtrak station when I was about seven, but we had to call and book it, and it was a minivan. Doesn't count.)

And those are just taxi drivers. Shopkeepers, waiters, everybody. And professors? Oh yes. My professors at UJ this semester have been so kind. They genuinely value their students, which sadly enough isn't totally commonplace... but makes it all the more special. I can't thank Dr. Zubi and Professor Amjad enough for their teaching.

They did nice things for us: Amjad got us on field trips to the zoo, Roman ruins, and a delightful falafel place (although I was too sick to go to that one). And Dr. Zubi wanted to take us on a class field trip to a refugee camp. It was never approved, for what I'm sure were very worthy legalish reasons, but would have been amazing.

They said nice things about us: Dr. Zubi told us that his afternoon CIEE lectures were a bright spot on his day. And Amjad seemed genuinely sad when our Arabic classes ended last week. Beyond that, his wife made a farewell cake for us. Deeeelicccccioussss. Chocolate a cream and fruit and it all looked pretty and professional and wonderful. Earlier in the semester he had gotten somebody to take a group picture of our class on his phone. He had printed out the photo and taped it to the top of the cake box. That's caring.

And my family? What can I say? They're my family, and I mean it. Humorous anecdote, I was once telling a Jordanian friend some story about my family (the one from back home), and I referred to it as usrati al-amreekiya - my American family. She asked, tenderly, "Are you adopted?" Confused, for a second, I explained. You see, I have usra urduniya o usra amreekiya - a Jordanian family and an American one. I want to write about my family some other time, because, you see, there's just too much to say.

So if you, any of you, ever want to talk to me about Arabs, Muslims, the history of the Transjordanian Mandate, the history of occupied Palestine, current events, car bombers, fundamentalists, or anything like that, I'll be thrilled. I can tell you about the cool conversations I've had with taxi drivers and explain that they don't want to bomb your churches. I can show you a picture of my Jordanian nieces and talk to you about how they're going to grow up - comfortable, loved, and literate. I can tell you all about my life in the Middle East and how amazing it was.

By chance, as I was thinking about writing this, my sister showed me this Youtube video:

... the link to which I cannot readily find. But I'll put it up as soon as I search it out. It's the sort of thing I could envision Terry using in the 9:00 service. Or the sort of thing that I would have watched in INTL210 (International Social Justice) with Dr. Wood. Good stuff.

To sum up? Osama, Saddam, and a whole host of their friends - the grainy faces in the newspaper photos - are Arabs and Muslims. But so are the people in my host family, so are my professors, so are my friends.