Tales of Yemen: Politics over Tea and Cookies

If you want to make Americans uncomfortable, mention politics or religion and watch the room fidget. You only have to look at the current presidential race to feel the awkwardness of American politics and see the deep divides it creates. And religion? That’s a topic better left to another blog post.

When I moved to Yemen, I quickly learned that these two subjects, nearly taboo in polite American conversations, are the same topics most often broached in first conversations in the Middle East. In fact, not discussing religion or politics with a guest in your home might be considered rude.

Globe - Politics over Tea and Cookies - kimberlymitchell.usIf you want to make Americans uncomfortable, mention politics or religion and watch the room fidget. You only have to look at the current presidential race to feel the awkwardness of American politics and see the deep divides it creates. And religion? That’s a topic better left to another blog post.

When I moved to Yemen, I quickly learned that these two subjects, nearly taboo in polite American conversations, are the same topics most often broached in first conversations in the Middle East. In fact, not discussing religion or politics with a guest in your home might be considered rude.

I wasn’t prepared to offer deep thoughts on American intervention (or interference) in Iraq and the rest of the Middle East, or support or defend then President Bush’s war on terror, but these questions were the ones most often posed after the chai ahmar (red tea) and cookies had been consumed during afternoon visits with neighbors and friends.

Tea and Cookies - Politics over Tea and Cookies - kimberlymitchell.us

I’d been in Aden for roughly four months when Saddam Hussein was captured, sentenced and hanged. I vividly remember the afternoon I learned of his capture.

My fellow teacher, Vlad, dashed into the teacher’s room and breathlessly told me, “They got him.” I looked up from a grammar book I was perusing. “Who?” I asked. It was a steamy, Aden afternoon and I was battling a desire to nap. “Saddam Hussein,” Vlad gasped. I dropped the book.

We ran to the computer lab to pull up any information we could find. (Pre-Twitter days, but the internet still had plenty to report). Needless to say, my students were full of questions and opinions that night. They wanted to know if I thought Hussein deserved death, and whether George Bush hadn’t committed the same sorts of crimes in waging war against Iraq. Ironically, I had a student in class named Saddam Hussein (I’m not making that up), who took a lot of teasing that night, too. Eventually, he changed his name.

These were tough questions, and I didn’t feel completely comfortable discussing them, but I tried to push through my American upbringing and join in the debate. It’s not that my students didn’t agree that Hussein had been a brutal dictator, but they were uncomfortable with the idea that the U.S. could roll into any country, conduct a war, and drag that leader out of a hole in the ground for public trial. To be sure, they had cause to worry. The U.S. was (and still is) carrying out drone strikes against suspected Al-Qaida militants in a region east of Aden. Saudi Arabia and Yemen - Politics over Tea and Cookies - kimberlymitchell.us

Occasionally we’d hear the military jets leaving Aden on flights to observe that desert area and, I suspect, feed information to their U.S. partners. Perhaps their uncertainty also stemmed from the fact that their behemoth neighbor to the north, Saudi Arabia, is also a U.S. ally. There is little love between Yemenis and their northern neighbors, for too many reasons to cover in this post. It came as no surprise to me when the Arab Spring in Yemen resulted in a civil war partially influenced by Saudi Arabia and other outsiders. My students’ fears we spoke of on that long ago day are, in many ways, coming true.

Though I found the political questions challenging, I had to admire the openness with which my hosts asked these questions. They honestly wanted to know my thoughts as an American. I should also say, I never felt condemned by them, even when we disagreed or debated. They agreed that leaders can be separated from those they lead. In fact, the phrase, “Bush no good, but you, we like,” was a pretty common utterance. Evidence to the fact that meeting someone face to face and having an open dialogue is a far cry from the politically slanted, hate or fear fueled news we ingest every night.

I often wished (and still do) that every American could have the same experience I did and sit down to discuss politics with my Yemeni neighbors over a steaming glass of tea and chocolate filled cookies.

Arab Tea - Politics over Tea and Cookies - kimberlymitchell.us

Wouldn’t the world be a different place if we could?

Tales of Yemen: The Beginning

Baab al-Kabhir, Sanaa, Yemen
Baab al-Kabhir, Sanaa, Yemen

The recent news of unrest in Yemen dismays me. I have amazing memories of my time spent in this beautiful, but often maligned, land. As the news continues to darken, I wanted to share some of my favorite stories of a place that forever changed me.

My first day in Yemen, I arrived at the airport in Sanaa exhausted but excited to finally be in the country I’d call home for the next year. (It turned into three. That’s another story.) I was supposed to catch a connecting to flight south to the port city of Aden, where I would teach English, but that flight was canceled. The next flight wouldn’t leave until that evening. I stood in the airport a moment, trying to collect my thoughts, while around me people shouted and spoke Arabic, a language I had yet to learn. Why didn’t I try to learn a few phrases before I left?

A merchant in the spice market in Sanaa.
A merchant in the spice market in Sanaa.

I found an office and someone who spoke English and managed to call the friend picking me up in Aden. After I explained my flight was delayed, he said he’d call a friend in Sanaa and assured me everything would be find. “This happens all the time,” he added.

I stood outside the airport, fending off local taxi drivers with a shake of my head, until a tall, older man, obviously foreign, walked up and asked if I was Kimberly. Relieved, I nodded and he loaded my two overweight bags into the van and we took off.

While he navigated the streets of Sanaa, I got my first impression of Yemen. Everywhere I looked, people crowded the streets – men in long white thobes and checkered headscarves, women in flowing black abayas, some in colorful headscarves, but many more in full veils. Their eyes peered at me curiously as I peered back at them from the van window.

I traveled extensively before heading to the Middle East, but I’d never seen a place like this before. Tall, bare mountain peaks rose around this cramped city and mud brick streets wound away into dark alleys only wide enough for one person. Part of me wanted to go home. The other part wanted to explore those winding streets.

My host stopped and grabbed lunch for his family before we went back to his apartment. Chicken and rice and a wonderful, oversized flat bread baked on an outdoor oven. I didn’t know it yet, but this was the staple meal in Yemen. Nearly every restaurant sold the same, all of it delicious.

Stained glass qamarias adorn the windows in this Yemeni living room.
Stained glass qamarias adorn the windows in this Yemeni living room.

My host’s apartment was large and airy, painted white with gorgeous half-moon stained glass windows. The windows, called qamarias, are a form of architecture predating Islam. Sunlight poured through the stained glass and cast rainbows across the white walls and floor. I watched the rainbows dance around the room as the afternoon lengthened into early evening and multiple prayer calls were broadcast through speakers from mosques around the city.

A minaret rises above a mosque in Sanaa. Traditionally an imam stood in the minaret for the call to prayer. Now it is broadcast through speakers mounted inside the tower.
A minaret rises above a mosque in Sanaa.

I stood at the window and listened to rise and fall of the evening prayer call as the imams sang over the city. The prayer call undulated, swelled, then died down and the evening grew quiet. The rainbows shifted across the room and disappeared as a red sun sank behind the mountains. Goose bumps rose on my arms and I took a deep breath and gazed out across a city of flat rooftops to the mountains beyond until my host said it was time to head to the airport.

As I left that room, the light from the qamarias spent, I knew I was in for the greatest adventure of my life in this strange land.

Sunset in Yemen - Tales of Yemen - kimberlymitchell.us