Baqa'a and a glimpse of Amman downtown

Today I went on my own to Baqa’a, without translator or driver. My goal was to explore as many places of the camp as possible. I went by public van from University Street to the camp. It was a hassle to find the right bus, as all the descriptions on the buses are in Arabic, but with asking around and guessing, I found the right bus. “Al-Baqa’a?”, I screamed to overrule the loud noise of the traffic. The man who opened the side-door nodded, I entered and took a seat at the last row. The first part through the streets of Amman went slowly, because of the traffic, which is an issue in this city. Even short distances can take hours, as traffic jams are the daily routine in Amman. As soon as the traffic liquefied, the driver pressed the gas pedal to a maximum level and raced downhill to the camp. Amman is built on seven hills; Baqa’a is located in a valley. I am surprised how steep some roads are, and I don’t want to think about what happens when it rains or freezes.  

We entered the camp at the Southwestern border, and even in Baqa’a, there was a traffic jam up to the bus station. I walked out of the bus close at the bus station, near the central market of the camp. It was crowded at this time, but people did not particularly look at me. I bought a bottle of water in one of the countless shops, and the salesman warmly welcomed me. I decided to walk in the direction of the supermarket in the north of Karameh, the area where I know some people. I looked at google maps, and it did not look far at all. However, it took longer than expected, not eased by the sloping roads and the burning sun. Where I did not seem to attract attention in the busy parts of the camp, people were definitely staring at me in the more quiet streets. I did not else than greeting people, sometimes answered back with a greeting,  sometimes unanswered. When I crossed a road at the edge of the camp, three guys behind me yelled “English?”, and I tuned around. I confirmed, and they approached me. We shook hands: the guy who speaks English is called Zakarea. We walked a bit in the direction that I was walking into. Suddenly Zakarea said: “Why you hate Muslims?”. It was a moment that I did not know else than to respond with: “No, I like Muslims”. Zakarea: “You America?”, Me: “No, no, me no America, me Hulanda”. I got some crisps offered from Zakarea and the guys followed me to my destination. Arrived at the supermarket, I greeted the salesman I knew from previous meetings. The guys had a quick conversation with him and left, but not before they noted down my phone number and Facebook. Like everyone in the camp, these guys has a smartphone. The day before I met a teacher with a long beard, a man who looked very religious by his appearance. However, he welcomed me extremely friendly in fluent English, shook my hand for a long time and wanted my phone number to help me in the camp. In the meanwhile, my phone ran out of memory…

After the meeting with this teacher I went for the first time to downtown Amman to meet Ghada who works for UNHCR in Za’atari camp, the second camp I will investigate. We met in Rumi Café in the area of Luweibdeh, a trendy area with many coffee shops and bars. It was also the first time since my arrival in Amman that is saw foreigners. We drank a freshly prepared lemonade, and continued to a small restaurant where we ordered falafel, humus, a tomato sauce, a fresh salad and Arabic bread, accompanied by tea. It was delicious, and for 8.5JOD not that expensive. After this 3-hour during lunch, we went by car to some highlights of the Amman Design Week, a week where artists, architects and other sympathisers can expose their artistic talents on the streets of downtown Amman. They transformed a hangar into a museum with fashion and contemporary art. We visited this hangar, next to a recently finished museum with other contemporary art. It was great to see another side of Amman, a trendy side where women do not wear hijabs or burkas, which is the opposite of the traditional Baqa’a. It was even possible to consume alcohol in one of the trendy bars that this area owns, for the price of 4.5JOD per glass of draft beer (0.5L). Together with Najib, another half Jordanian/half Russian UNHCR colleague of Ghada, we drunk some beers and talked for hours till it was time to go, as they needed to wake up at 6:30AM the next day to commute to Za’atari camp.        

Back to Baqa’a: I settled myself down on a chair in front of the supermarket, and got offered a bottle of water. After a while, the owner of the supermarket yelled at a man who was throwing away a bag of trash in the trash ban, where the trash actually covers a large area around it. The man, named Omar, approached us, shook my hand and told me that he would go to the Mosque for 10 minutes and return to me. I already heard the mosques for a while, probably saying that it was time to pray. After 10 minutes, he returned and gave me a bottle of Pepsi. He told me about his life in Prague, his travels in Europe, and he showed pictures of Antwerp, Paris, his Czech wife and a movie about his 2-months old sun Mohammed who I met when we entered his three story house. I was invited to sit down in a dining room with cushions, forming a cosy room to dine and drink. I took off my shoes and found a place. Omar went upstairs and returned with Mohammed in his arms. We drank Arabic coffee and I tried to talk with his sun, Ahmad, about soccer, as he was wearing a soccer shirt of a Saudi team. I tried to figure out when and where he played soccer. I showed him the map of Baqa’a that I printed back in The Netherlands, and he showed me where the soccer pitch is located. A picture with Mohammed could not be missed, and before I knew it, I was holding the baby: I did not expect to hold a Palestinian baby in my arms at one of my first days in Baqa’a, but it would bring luck to the baby, according to Omar.

The building he lives in contains of three stories. Downstairs live his two sisters. Omar lives with his wife and Mohammed on the first floor. His brother and wife live on the second floor. I asked if he could show me a construction site in the camp. He told me that he has worked, next to his business in cars, in construction during his 30 years at the European continent. He took me to a place near the camp, where a new house and a mosque were constructed. We entered the site and he took me even to the first floor where we met a guy of my age. I felt touched by his story, because he had studied computer science at the University of Jordan, but cannot find a job. That is why he works in the construction branch. I asked him: “Is it okay for you now?”, that he answered with a clear “No!”. I felt sorry, and did not know what to say. I wished him good luck, but he reacted sceptically like he heard this too many times. Me and Omar left the construction site and went to his taxi, because Omar is a taxi driver in Amman. He offered me to bring me home, for free. While Omar entered his car, I walked to the shed for goats and sheep, ready to be eaten for Eid. The Eid is the national holiday for Jordanians in which families gather to hang out together. You can find these sheds currently everywhere outside the centre of Amman. People can buy the animals for dinner. I approached the shed, but was chases away by a wild dog. I have never seen such a wild dog, and I was grateful that this dog was chained, as a bite of this dog would have resulted in many problems. Suddenly, I saw dogs under every car, shading for the burning afternoon sun. Jordanians generally do not hold dogs like Dutch people do, because this is seen as unhygienic. However, these herds hold them, but apparently not for the purpose of nice company.

The next days I will go to the camp either alone or with different translators that I found online. I will try to meet as many people, and will slightly head towards the selection of sites that I am going to study in detail during after my first weeks of orientating field visits. Coming soon…