don't let the doctor get you down

The past is finally catching up to me. Thanks to this, I can do a little catch up while giving you the details of today (well.. last night to be more accurate). Remember when I asked you to remind me of that revoked invitiation to an Ifar (see below for Arabic-English glossary)? Well I don't need your reminder, I was reminded of this myself at 8:03pm when I saw that I had 5 missed calls and a new text message from Mr. Un-Inviter Himself or rather, Dr. Un-Inviter. To protect the guilty, let's change his name and call him Dr. Wasim. So backing up a few weeks... it was Week 1 of Ramadan and I finally decided to embark upon one of my many (mis)adventures which was to retrieve my transcript from the course I took last summer at Al Quds University a mere 16km from Ramallah... the trip takes about an hour but that's another story. I'll let the soldiers at Wadi Nar and the settlers at Ma'ale Adumim pipe-in with their comments below. Of course I don't believe in the concept of transcripts from Arabic classes, but I think that the Fulbright committee who requests that sort of thing does, so against all my priciples, I decided that passing two checkpoints in each direction is totally worth it to get the piece of probably-not-even-acid-free paper. Attempt Number One fails: the university closed eariler than I expected due to Ramadan. Attempt Number Two is where the story begins. The registrar's office is jam packed with people, wall-to-wall students crowded around 5 or so bank-teller style windows. I find out from another janib that this week is the last week of registration and it might be better to come back next week. Ok... I was on a mission and while it was not of the overdone militaristic kind, I was still determined. So I knock on an unmarked door and give an earful to the random unfortunate soul who answered it. I soon get paired with a student "volunteer" who takes me around to various offices and windows, settling the supposed 500+ Jordanian Dinar debt that one nice lady behind window number one said I would need to pay in order to get this piece of paper. Thanks but no thanks... two hours later, I get a piece of paper... not THE piece of paper... but one that will supposedly lead me to that golden waraq. I feel like I'm one step closer to victory but then I hear that I still need to return the next day. To make a long story shortish, I call the (ex) director of the Language and Literature Program and politely and pathetically insist that he send me some help to get this transcript. Thank you thank you... he sends me two (not one, but two) professors to help me navigate this maze that probably accompanies most universities that operate under the shadow of an inoperational government. Success! An hour later I have my official-ish document with that nice 70% mark (I know..I shouldn't brag about that, it was a suprise to me too. However yes, my Arabic sucked even worse last year than it does now if you can believe it) in addition to something I didn't come for: an invitation to attend an Iftar on Thursday with one those nice professors and a group of his students. Ok, so Thursday comes around and no invitation, no problem. A few days later, I get a text message, "Hi Toby, my wife is cooking Mansaf 4 ftoor, u r welcome at 5pm if u r interested, i am inviting some friends from my village and u can spend time with her, Dr. Wasim." Cool! I give him a call... count me in, excitement! At 4:06 I get another text, "Dear Toby, we'll make it on Thursday when I get my dad and mom, i am so sorry, u may not feel good with my ten guys my wife says, best Wasim." Ok, no problem I say. Thursday comes and goes. Ramandan is khallas, I (kinda) forget the whole ordeal. Now what does all this have to do with last night's five missed calls and one text message? All of you who know me well know that I don't get a whole lotta phone calls (hint hint) and so I try to answer every one in the event that fun and adventure is on the line. At the same time, the actual moment at hand always takes precedence over what might be lurking on the wire, so since I happened to be in the middle of a super-cool yet out-of-character Dabka lesson, I let the phone ring. What's the text message say you wonder? Well.. it's from the long lost ustaz. "Dear Toby, it is Dr. Wasim, please if my wife calls u say that i was sitting with u today at a cafe downtown, do me this favor please dear."

Sorry Dr. Wasim incase you're reading this... in general, I'd love to help. And don't get me wrong, I am ever so grateful for your help in getting me that transcript. Also, if you knew me well enough, you'd know that I have a soft spot for Palestinians and I'm always trying to help in my sloppy and usually ineffective way. If you want me to provide you with an alibi for the Israeli border police, army, navy, air force or shopping mall security.. Ahlan WaSahlan... but wives, that's outside my field of expertise (or interest). Kul Am W'Anta B'Kheir... and if there's a nice Arabic saying for "good luck with that wife-thing" I'd say that too. Banaat Ajnabiye.. beware! More on freaky men in future posts. I'll throw in a few posts on the nice ones too..... apologies to all you nice guys out there.. I've met you but the nice guys don't get the blog (as they say).

Glossary:
janib: foreigner
bannat ajnabiye: foreign girls
waraq: paper
khallas: finished
Iftar: the dinner-time meal that breaks the daytime fast during the month of Ramadan
ustaz: professor
eid: holiday
Dabka: Palestinian folklore dance
Kul Am W'Anta B'Kheir: something you say after Eid Ramadan, I think it's something like "I hope you and everyone will be well in this coming year" ...maybe
Ahlan WaSahlan : welcome