Wrapping up

          I remember last semester taking a culture test that graded you on your culture awareness. At the time I thought, “These questions are dumb and a waste of my time.” I breezed through the true-false questions similar to “In your opinion, America’s culture is better than other cultures” and “in your opinion, America is the best country in the world” with my obvious true’s. At the end of the test, naturally I received the results saying I was not very accepting of other cultures.

            After recent experiences, I considered it wise to write down some of my thoughts after spending four months in Oman, three of them living in an Omani home with an Omani family and daily experiencing Arab culture. Have my perceptions changed?

            Throughout my time here, I have been asked many times which country is better, Oman or America. And it is not a simple question. But my answer is always the same. America is the place I have and will always call home. I was born there, I live there, I’m proud to say I’m American, and it is the only country I would ever give my life for. But I have enjoyed the last four months in Oman, and I really like the land and its people. While I do love America very much, this does not mean that it is alone the greatest with every other country a lesser. At the end of the day, we’re all human. Regardless of what color or religion or background you have: no one’s better than anyone else, and it’s silly that any one man or government would think themselves superior to another.

            Oman has been a great experience for me, and I am going to miss all the friendships I have made. My host brothers: Salim – the evolving punk Omani with a quick texting hand, a slick car, and a right foot that likes to lie heavy on the pedal. Ahmed – the “studious” Sultan Qaboos University students who likes to leave his books on the kitchen table and educate himself through osmosis. Doolie – the sixteen-year-old who likes to include me on a lot of good fun. Osama – he has been great in making me feel like a part of the family. And Laith – Laith… the Nesquick-stealer, Snickers-looter bundle of joy who loves it when I’m around to play and drink tea with him. The house servant Rouanna – the kind housemaid who still has almost two years left in Oman until she sees her husband and kids in Sri Lanka again (a six month deployment isn’t the worst thing in the world). Huzaim – our Arabic media teacher who has been willing to help me out at any time of the day. George – my American friend from the Academy who I’ve gotten to know better over this trip and went on many adventures together in order to get the most out of this experience. The many youth I have met on the soccer field. The many relatives of the Aghbari tribe that I have shared meals with. The many taxi drivers that I have ridden with and talked about life with.

            The many amazing experiences I’ve had in Oman were only because I embraced their culture, wore their clothing, spoke their language, acted like them. Had I done anything else, my time would have been wasted.

            In order to remember the experiences I’ve had, I have been consistent in keeping a journal and writing in it almost every night. Not a research journal, just an account of my daily activities, people I have become good friends with, and leadership lessons I have learned. I don’t want to forget Oman and its people, but more importantly I want to remember the valuable perspectives on life I have gained and apply the lessons I have learned.

Joe, Huzaim, George, and I

Guy, my UK friend

Hitchhiking

            The last few days, George and I have been working on earning our Open Water diving qualifications at a German dive center near the small fishing village of Qantab. By car, it is about two hours away from our district of Ma’abilah, but since George and I have figured out the taxi system really well, we can get anywhere in the city for pretty cheap. This trip, in particular, is $20 for the two of us one-way.

            Saturday was our first day of diving classes, and it had just rained those past few days, and the foggy dust that Muscat construction usually produces was gone. The air was fresh and clean and one could see the tall craggy mountains in the distance. It was the perfect first diving day.

            After going to the pool and learning the basics of clearing out water in your mask and buddy breathing, we packed up our stuff and got ready to take the long taxi ride back. The only problem is that we weren’t near any taxi stands or modern civilization. No Starbucks. No indoor plumbing. We decided the hitchhiking approach was best. In such a friendly country like Oman, sticking your hand out for a ride is almost entirely safe, and I have done this on plenty of occasions.

            After waiting for a few minutes, the second car that passed by saw our need and stopped. The three Filipinos were kind enough to pick us up and drive us 30 minutes to the town of Ruwi. After talking with them for a bit and recognizing that they had a Third Day disc in their CD system, we found out that they were Christians too. This made them more eager to help us out, and even though they felt obligated to drive us further, George and I did not want to inconvenience them any further.

            We then hopped in a taxi from Ruwi to the Ma’abilah stop, an hour drive without traffic. The taxi driver, Joseph al-Abri, a member of the Royal Omani Police in the traffic department, escorted us there. After talking to us for a little bit and visibly impressed by our Arabic, he told us he would drop us off right by our homes, no cost.

            Two free car rides in a row is great, but as surprising as this may sound, I have received a lot of free rides in Oman. What’s my secret? Make good conversation, be interested in the other person, and if they’re Omani, I tell them I am here to learn Arabic and experience Omani culture. 60% of the time, it works every time.

Lunar eclipse

     Last weekend the Aghbari tribe got together for a night of meshakik (meat on a stick sort of like shish kabob). We had a great time hanging out and telling stories. I have now reached that point in the Arabic language where I can understand most of what people are saying. It's a bummer that it took this long to achieve this kind of status, but Arabic isn't easy. Four months of living in Oman have very much helped me become near fluent in this language.

     After that Aghbari get-together, my host family returned home, we got changed and then went outside to hang out outside and watch the lunar eclipse. It wasn't a full eclipse; only partial. But still fun and cool to think that only those in the Eastern Hemisphere could witness it this time.

Osama (my host brother - 11) and I

He can make the weirdest faces sometimes!

Ahmed, Doolie, and Osama

The best photo my camera could take of this stellar event.

Rain these past two weeks has flooded different parts of northern Oman. This is a lame picture of one of the roads that quickly became a river.  Since Oman only gets 3.9 inches of rainfall a year, there is no drainage system. This year is quite the exception, however.