In the Middle of the Road, you get Run Over

The Dead Sea Marriott Hotel is beautiful. We are tired of buffets so everyone votes on where to have dinner, and the sports bar wins out. Hisham and Shannon join us from Amman.

There have been demonstrations. People have been injured in clashes between the pro and anti government factions, but thankfully, no fatalities. I ask Hisham who is demonstrating.

“Its Jordanians” he says. ” The Palestinians are too scared to demonstrate in Jordan, after what happened in Black September. He is referring to the 1970 Palestinian uprising against the King which was crushed by the Jordanian military led by his own uncle Habis al Majali. There were thousands of casualties.

Palestinian refugees to Jordan have been well integrated for the most part, but tensions remain. The refugees were given the option of Jordanian citizenship, which many took, but 500,000 or so still remain registered UNRWA refugees. Palestinian Jordanians have done well materially, and control most of the economic base in Jordan. Government and the military, however, is controlled by Jordanians. As a result of Black September, Palestinian Jordanians now find it almost impossible to be admitted to the Jordanian military, or if admitted at all, to be promoted above certain ranks.

Talk turns to the Palestinian-Israeli conflict and I confess to Lori how unhopeful I feel about the prospects for a peace deal, how troubled and sad I am about the increased extremism and polarization among not just my own, but people of all faiths.

What Lori says surprises me:

“Think of the Prophet Muhammad, Sarah! All the years he struggled. All the opposition he dealt with. We just have to keep trying. In the end, good will prevail.”

I am filled with gratitude. I find Lori’s words immensely comforting, and I tell her that.

After dinner, Natalie and I stroll the hotel grounds together. It’s a beautiful balmy night on the Dead Sea shore. The sky is a deep black, there is no moon. We hear music and follow the sound. A party is in full swing on one of the seaside terraces. Perfumed smoke curls up into the night air as hookahs are passed around among smartly dressed young men and women. The singer’s voice is deep and melancholy. He sings about lost love and longing. What is it about the sound of the Arabic language that seems to so deepen the melancholy?

We watch for a while, like two strange peeping Toms, and consider novel ways of how to crash the party. Then we chicken out and head back to our rooms.

The next morning is a rare “Free” morning, and we relax in the salty waters of the Dead Sea.

In the interest of modesty, instead of a conventional swimsuit, I am wearing my “California surfer” outfit, a bright blue short sleeve rash guard and matching bottoms. I think I look rather cool.

I decide to check out the hotel spa.

In the hot tub at the spa, I meet Christine, a kindergarten teacher from Ohio, who is teaching in Al-Ain, in the United Arab Emirates. We have a really animated conversation about the educational system in the Emirates. Here’s what she shares with me:

The UAE is making huge efforts to promote public education. Christine teaches local Emirati children at a government school. I ask her whether the children who attend are middle or upper class Emirati kids. She responds that “middle class” Emirati families make a whopping $17MM a year in family income. This is a check they receive direct from their government just for being Emirati citizens. They don’t perceive there to be any need to “work”. (That sounds a bit exaggerated to me, but I’m sure they’re much wealthier than the average Joe).

Christine is paid better in her Al-Ain teaching job than what she would be paid in an Ohio public school. Plus she receives free housing, free travel home for vacation, and there are no taxes whatsoever. Financially, it’s a sweet deal.

I ask her if the social life is boring. “They have put all of us foreign teachers of all nationalities together in this apartment complex, so we hang out together” she says. “Some of the female teachers have brought along their spouses, who stay home while they work, and do handyman duties for the complex.”

Christine knew no Arabic when she arrived in Al-Ain, and her students knew no English. In every class there is also an Emirati Arabic-English bilingual teacher who helps the kids communicate. I ask her why the Emirati women would want to work if they are so rich.

“They’re bored”, she says.”They want to get out of the house”

I ask her if the Emirati teachers wear the hijab or veil, and she says whether to observe the veil and the extent of the covering is determined by the woman’s husband. They do as he asks them to do.

The Emirates have gone from being a very poor region, to being tremendously wealthy, in the span of 40 years. This has brought unique social challenges. People are so wealthy that they do not necessarily see a value in education. Education is supposed to help you move ahead economically, and they feel they have already “made it”. Kids often times cut school and it is hard to maintain attendance. Kids are however, learning, and Christine is happy with their progress

This reminds me of a conversation I had with some Saudi students, while waiting in line at 6:00 am outside an Apple store to get the newly launched and elusive iPad2, just before leaving for this trip.

The radio that morning had talked about the effects of Tahrir Square on Saudi Arabia. The Saudi King Abdullah had addressed the nation and “thanked them” for their support, something unprecedented in Saudi Arabia. He had also announced an increase in the “monthly allowance” given to all Saudi citizens.

I asked the Saudi students how they liked the Royal family and what they felt about democratic change in Saudi Arabia.

“We like the king,” they said. “He’s from a good tribe. Otherwise we could have a person from a very bad tribe become king!”

“Why is there such high unemployment among educated Saudi professionals?” I asked them.

“Because we are lazy,” they replied without hesitation. “Companies don’t want to hire us because foreign workers work harder, for less pay, than Saudis. There are some quotas for Saudis but beyond the limited quotas companies won’t hire Saudis.

Fast forward to the women’s spa at the Dead Sea.

Christine and I are lost in conversation, when the female spa attendant taps my shoulder and tugs at my bathing suit. She wears a hijab, a traditional Muslim head scarf, on her head. Then she points to the restroom. I assume she is asking whether I would like to change into a conventional swimsuit. I decline. A few minutes later another attendant, also wearing hijab, walks purposefully over and jogs my elbow. She motion to my surfer suit and shakes her head.

“Miss Sarah, I’m sorry but you have to get out of the spa”, she says. “You need to have a swimsuit on.”

I’m caught off guard, and I step out of the spa quickly, muttering apologies. Christine looks puzzled too. Then I realize the hysterical irony of the situation.

Here is a Muslim woman in hijab, asking another Muslim woman to get out of the spa, because she is “too covered”, all in Jordan, a Muslim country.

How schizophrenic is that!

Later on, I reflect.

I realize that it’s harder today than ever, to be in the middle. People like me are too conservative for the liberals, and too liberal for the conservatives.

People are increasingly, moving to the extremes, becoming more and more polarized. This is true across Jewish, Christian and Muslim faith groups. Not only is there religious polarization but also economic polarization, and in many instances, economic polarization is leading to religious polarization.

In a polarized world, when you choose the middle, you belong nowhere.

Neither on the left, nor on the right. You get it from both sides.

Just like what happens when you walk in the middle of the road.

You get run over.