February 22, 2007
Marriage Update
My Iraqi suitor is out of the running. He's currently in jail where he's been for the past week after it was discovered he was a bit of a thief - not of hearts but of cash. His friends ratted him out after he "borrowed" money from them to buy an apartment and a business. He never gave the money back. I think my decision to wait and see if the camels came through was a wise one.
February 12, 2007
Bidding Wars
The man who owns the hotel I'm staying at has a 95-year-old father who comes and sits at reception every day. He challenges every guest to an arm wrestle - which he always wins - sometimes because people let him but most times because he is still tough as nails. He has taken a shine to me and offered 12 camels and his house to marry me. His son is concerned dad will throw in the hotel but I assure him this is not the case. The daughters-in-law think it's great and would love for me to marry their father-in-law and thereby secure the hotel for their sons when they grow up. Abu Sameer also wants me to convert to Islam.
The Iraqi man who has the room next to mine says he'll give me 15 camels and a donkey. He's said nothing about converting, he is already married.
Basil, the 22-year-old whose fiancee is 15, says he'll give me one camel. He's not very wealthy.
No one else has entered the race yet, but I think I'm going to hold out for something better than old men, married men, poor men, and livestock.
The Iraqi man who has the room next to mine says he'll give me 15 camels and a donkey. He's said nothing about converting, he is already married.
Basil, the 22-year-old whose fiancee is 15, says he'll give me one camel. He's not very wealthy.
No one else has entered the race yet, but I think I'm going to hold out for something better than old men, married men, poor men, and livestock.
February 5, 2007
AIDS Test
Everyone who wants to live and work in Syria needs to get an AIDS test done. There are only two places in the country where you can get the test - one in Damascus, one in Homs. Two weeks ago the Iraqi president visited with the Syrian president and requested that all Iraqis be sent back to Iraq within 15 days if they can't get their test completed. This means every morning before 8am there is a huge lineup at the clinic, maybe 500 people scrambling to get their test so they can stay. This is in addition to all the Syrians and other foreigners who are there for the same thing.
This morning I arrived at 8am and stood at the front of the line for foreigners, waiting to throw my passport through the gate to the men in the white coats. The first man was relatively gentle and pleasant, the second yelled and screamed until his face turned red and he sounded like he'd either pass a kidney stone or explode. I got my passport through on the first try and then stood in the cold and mud for the next three and half hours as relatively gentle man let Syrians jump the queue. Eventually he yelled out my name and I was able to get inside the gate and wait for another hour and a half.
As I was at the front of the line this time, I was able to watch yelling man take blood samples. First he yelled at whoever was in the chair, grabbed their left arm and tied the rubber hose around it. If he couldn't find the vein in 2 seconds, he'd rip the tube off, grab the right arm and give that a try. If no vein there, tube off, wrapped on wrist, a little bit more yelling, then BAM, jab into the back of the hand. If he was lucky he'd hit a vein, but sometimes it looked like he was pulling up muscle or marrow. I was lucky and ended up with a soft speaking and polite man who managed to get my vein on the first go. A bit of bruising but at least no emotional scarring.
Tomorrow I go back to get the results - they'd better be negative.
This morning I arrived at 8am and stood at the front of the line for foreigners, waiting to throw my passport through the gate to the men in the white coats. The first man was relatively gentle and pleasant, the second yelled and screamed until his face turned red and he sounded like he'd either pass a kidney stone or explode. I got my passport through on the first try and then stood in the cold and mud for the next three and half hours as relatively gentle man let Syrians jump the queue. Eventually he yelled out my name and I was able to get inside the gate and wait for another hour and a half.
As I was at the front of the line this time, I was able to watch yelling man take blood samples. First he yelled at whoever was in the chair, grabbed their left arm and tied the rubber hose around it. If he couldn't find the vein in 2 seconds, he'd rip the tube off, grab the right arm and give that a try. If no vein there, tube off, wrapped on wrist, a little bit more yelling, then BAM, jab into the back of the hand. If he was lucky he'd hit a vein, but sometimes it looked like he was pulling up muscle or marrow. I was lucky and ended up with a soft speaking and polite man who managed to get my vein on the first go. A bit of bruising but at least no emotional scarring.
Tomorrow I go back to get the results - they'd better be negative.
February 2, 2007
Prayer Time
A 95 year old man makes the call to prayer at the mosque closest to my current residence, about 50 feet up the road. His prayer is painful, you're begging for it to end before he dies and the last breath gurgles out of his throat. While he gasps and wheezes his way through the ritual, the other calls to prayer echo out across the city, fading in and out like twisted backup singers. It's eerie and I'm glad it's only 5 times a day.
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