Saudade de Sana'a

Tonight a friend asked me what I would miss most about Yemen. On the spot I didn't have a great answer, but luckily enough we were interrupted by a shisha emergency and she didn't come back to the question. On the way home in the taxi I thought of several things I am going to miss... Here are just a few:

• the sound of the call to prayer several times a day no matter where you are
• driving down "wedding dress lane" - the street that has one wedding boutique after another, with some of the most outrageous peacock-style dresses 
• "kebab square," the bustling area in the old city where you can sit out in the open and eat freshly grilled kebabs and drink tea
• my morning drives with mohammed
• the sight of saleh mosque with the mountains in the distance
• abdulla othman, our office driver who shares my appreciation for old soul and motown music and who has been my personal soothsayer and advisor 
• tea with marwan at the little place across the street from our office, and all the young guys who work there, especially the one with the "New Pork" t-shirt
• kudam, the multi-grain bread rolls that were originally made only for the military
• the perfect weather
• morning text messages from my friend ibrahim wishing me a "sweety" day
• the barber shops of beirut street

In Angola we learned the word "saudade," which roughly translates as "nostalgia" in English. But that translation misses out on the deep longing and wistful emotion that the word carries in Portuguese.

One of the hardest things about this type of work is the leaving. It's funny how you can get attached to a place, even a place where the experience wasn't always positive, like Iran. For me, Yemen has been fascinating, funny and chaotic and there's no doubt I will miss it. 

But, as always, it's good to go home. 

New Beginnings

Mohammed and I have figured out a way to communicate, even without many shared words between us. For example, yesterday on the drive home I told him that I would be leaving Yemen.

"Why?" he said in Arabic, slamming on the brakes and cranking his neck around to look at me in the back seat.

"Finished," I said in Arabic. "Khalass." It was one of the only words I know... "I am going home. To my husband."

"When?" he asked. Neither Martin, my carpool mate, or I knew how to say two weeks, but somehow I think Mohammed got the picture that it was soon.

Yes, friends. The time has finally come. I'm heading home in about ten days time. Yemen has been wonderful and awful, though luckily more the former than the latter. It's been an incredible learning experience and it was a perfect way for me to change things up, but now it's time for me to get back home. I've got a fantastic new life waiting for me and I can't wait for it to begin.

Ahmed Scissorhands

 

One of the first things I noticed about Sana'a is the insane number of barber shops you see. They are everywhere, on every block, sometimes three in a row, one after another. And there's always someone in every one of them, getting a trim or a shave.

Apparently there's more to this than meets the eye, and I'm determined to get to the bottom of it. I've heard there are Syrian barbers, Iraqi barbers, even Turkish, Palestinian, Indian and Ethiopian barbers. The prices and services offered in each one vary widely. I want to know more!

I heard a story last night of a Palestinian barber who noticed a very well-dressed Yemeni man walk in to his shop. He was wearing a nice suit, nice shirt, nice tie. Best dressed Yemeni man I've seen, thought the barber. But when he sat down, the barber noticed the man was barefoot. 

"I'm curious," the barber asked. "You are wearing very nice clothes, but I see you are not wearing any shoes. Why is that?" 

"Oh, it's because I live very near here," the Yemeni man replied.

Someone else told me about going to a new barber shop and getting a very good haircut. Pleased with the results, he went back again a few weeks later, but this time got a very bad haircut. It was very uneven and he had to keep cutting it shorter and shorter just to get the two sides to line up.

"What happened to the guy?" I asked.

"The two barbers who work there are identical twins," was the answer. 

Apparently they share the same features, but not the same barbering skills! Beware the evil twin.

Stay tuned. There are sure to be more barber shop stories to follow.