Good pics of daily life

Since a certain someone informed me that my posts are lacking in pictures, I decided to post a few from the past several weeks.

So I don’t sleep in too late every morning and miss my ride in to school, my personal volunteer wake-up force of Laith and his female cousin Rahaf do the job. They like to come in and play on the ab bench and sing the English alphabet. They also love to go through all my stuff, which means I’m going to have to find a better hiding spot for my secret stash of Nesquick mix and Snickers bars.    

Mahfooth is quite the character. Not many of us understand him that well. Our guess is that he just tries to impress us with how fast he can talk. Either way, little comprehension. He's a pretty funny guy and loves it when we wear dishdashahs to school.

This is the room I have been living in for the past three months. It's nice, spacious, and I'll admit it usually doesn't look this neat, mostly because of the sandstorm named Laith who takes down everything in his path. My secret stash of food is hidden in a place I will not disclose on this online forum. However, as you can perhaps see, on my closet I have a canister of old-fashioned Quaker oats. That's not in danger, because no one in my family knows what it is and how to cook it.

Yeah, buddy, as much of a little tyrant you are sometimes, I'm gonna miss you! 

Impressions stick

            As I am finishing out my last two and a half weeks in the Arabian Gulf, I am reminded that wherever I go, people are watching. Based on my behavior, both as a US citizen and a member of the Armed Forces, people will make deductions about my country and its military as a whole.

            Yesterday my friend Mahmoud went with George and I to the mall to grab a bite for lunch and shoot the breeze. In conversation, Mahmoud asked a few questions about the US, trying to understand what life was like there. I could tell that he already had certain perspectives of what people did in America, and when I asked him, his answer surprised me.

            Another American that he had met before us was a hardcore college party animal from New York and had corrupted Mahmoud into thinking that all Americans party every night, get drunk, and sleep around promiscuously. Based on one person, Mahmoud naturally though that was the American way.

            Now trying to change someone’s perceptions in a couple hours is not easy. Mahmoud was confused, because he saw a paradox. On the one hand, he had met a college student who could not stop bragging to Mahmoud about having sex, drinking alcohol, and eating pork. The student portrayed America as the best country, because he could do all that and not get in trouble. Then Mahmoud met George and I, who came with humble attitudes, embracing Omani culture for what it was and trying to learn as much as we could about the Middle East. I was getting a bit heated, trying to explain that America is not defined by alcohol and sex and the pursuit of temporary earthly pleasures. America is defined by its freedom. Freedom of speech, freedom to worship your God without being persecuted, freedom to raise your kids the way you see fit.

            Many make the mistake of associating the military with going to war, but that is not the military’s mission. The military is a political and economic tool employed to deter war and build relationships. Both as a US citizen and a representative of the US military, part of my mission here in Oman is to represent my country as best I can. But it’s not always easy. Sometimes you have to undo the precedent set by others.

A bit about foreign policy

            It is easy to think of the Middle East as one homogenous region with little thought as to how the different countries in this region interact with one another. We associate Iraq and Iran and Oman to be one and the same. They’re neighbors, right?! So they must be allies! To group these nations together, however, is almost like saying the United States and Canada and Mexico are identical. As I’ve spent the past few months abroad gaining an Omani perspective on life, my eyes have been opened as to how much a nation’s foreign policy affects its position in both economic and political terms.  This past week, in particular, was especially helpful in understanding Oman’s foreign policy. Lecturer Alex Brown, a former UK diplomat for sixteen years and current president of his own consultation company in Muscat, visited the Center of International Learning and shared with us a bit about the history of Oman’s foreign relations

            Historically speaking, Oman’s foreign policy from 1900-1970 can be summarized in one word: Britain. From British perspective, Oman was a key link in British trade routes with India, one of Britain’s main hubs of resources and money. And Britain feared losing this connection to the influence of the French or Portuguese; therefore, it aimed at keeping a close relationship with Oman’s government. In regional conflicts, Britain also always took Oman’s side. Even from 1965-1975 when the Communist-led Dhofar Liberation Front began to propagate their Marxist-Leninist philosophy during the Cold War, Britain sent troops to help Oman’s government maintain control.

            The new sultan, Sultan Qaboos took over the reins of power in a coup against his father in 1970. Having been educated in England and having finished the military program at Sandhurst, Qaboos kept an ongoing relationship with Britain, but he changed his approach to foreign policy. Oman’s current foreign policy can be summed up by, “Don’t offend anyone else.” Oman is only concerned with not hurting anybody’s feelings and consistently remains on the fence regarding major political issues. For example, Oman is probably the only country in the world that holds military exercises with both the US and Iran. Not at the same time, of course. Naturally, a country has to maintain relationships with its neighbor and other major military powers, but slowly Oman is realizing that appeasement of everybody’s goals does not always work.

            While this foreign policy of peace seems attractive, it has major two downsides. First, you irritate your potential allies. When you’re constantly undecided, it is impossible to maintain strong relationships with other countries. Recently, in discussions with Australia and Japan about the whaling moratorium, Oman made a statement supporting Japan in its procurement of whales for “scientific purposes.” Australia then criticized Oman for supporting the killing of whales that were not for Japan’s scientific lab, but for eating purposes. A few days later, Oman silently revoked its former statement and supported Australia. This move angered the Japanese. While seeking to be friends with both nations, in the end Oman lost.

            With this foreign policy, Oman also runs the risk of alienating its own people. The government makes its own decisions and does not represent the opinion of the people. The common man then does not feel like he can play identify with any single position, because the government cannot stay committed to a single cause.

            From an American point of view, a neutral policy for Oman is certainly better than a pro-Iranian stance. If Oman were to ally with Iran, the Straits of Hormuz would be threatened and countries that normally depend on resources that flow through those straits would face uncertainty. While Oman may face pressure to ally with the West, it may not be the safest move politically. Oman is its own country that will soon have to decide a better foreign policy stance. Trying to make friends with everyone, they will instead be friends of no one.

            

Just an Omani wannabe

           Similar to American culture, a popular topic of discussion here is the previous weekend’s events. Every Saturday after my Thursday-Friday weekend, I am expected to recount my experiences in Arabic in class. And I decided that for this interesting experience, I would simply record here a few unique things that I did this past weekend.

            Thursday started out slow. I slept in and most of my morning was spent trying to finalize my fall semester schedule back at the Academy. At 1, George came over and we went running for about 20 minutes. Not the greatest idea in the Omani heat. Mental note to myself that that’s the last time I do that. The evening was fun – we went over to the neighbor relative’s house for a buffet dinner. Everything on that long table looked delicious, and I would be at a loss of words how to describe some of the foods there. Some were Zanzibari, some Arabic, some attempts at American. Everyone – the men, women, and children – sat outside in their respective circles on pieces of carpet and ate. After I was finished, I really wanted to go up for seconds. I had taken a modest portion at the beginning, and I then regretted that decision, because now all the women were in the buffet line getting their dinner. That’s Arab culture; men always eat first. There was no way I was going to barge through that line with all those women. Even after living here for three months, I’m still a bit shy and afraid to break some Arab custom.

            After a bit, the men went inside to sit down and I followed. Six of them began a game of cards and I watched intently, hoping to pick up on it. One of the older men Khaled volunteered his help in explaining the rules to the game called “61” or in Swahili, “Karata.” After about twenty minutes of observing and listening to Khaled explain the whole game to me in Arabic, I had it down. I even got to play a few rounds with the men. Later, in my journal, I wrote down all the rules, including the names for “heart, spade, clover, diamond” both in Arabic and in Swahili. I’m not sure what use this will have for me later on in life, but you never know.

            One of my friends that Ahmed had introduced me to at the Khuwair shisha restaurant invited me to hang out with him Friday afternoon, and that turned out to be an awesome opportunity. Mesaab picked me up promptly at 1, and he drove me in his brand new Chrysler to his house located in the nicer part of town.

            As I entered his home, I was ushered by a couple of his sisters to a large room covered with Iranian carpets. A group of his siblings then brought me fresh juice and we introduced ourselves and enjoyed some small talk. After that, they guided me to the other part of the room where we were then brought meat and rice by their two Filipino maids. After the main course, they carried in fruit salad. And then blueberry cheesecake. Tapioca. Omani helwa and coffee. I have had a problem with not getting enough food here during the last three months, but I certainly did not starve this day. After a relaxing couple hours meeting Mesaab’s family, he and I said goodbye and we headed out.

            He then gave me a tour of a couple places on the outskirts of town that I had never seen or heard of before. He introduced me to these hidden spots, priding himself in the fact that these sites were unknown by the tourist companies. I made sure to write in my journal how to get to these secret locations so that I can visit them again (one of these was a hot springs tucked away in the mountain - I put a finger in the water for a brief sec, but quickly withdrew it, cause the water was boiling hot).

            By the end of the day, I was pretty exhausted. I have found that thinking in another language is taxing on the brain, and although Mesaab invited me to spend the night with him and his friends at the shisha restaurant downtown, I decided to relax a bit at home and catch up writing in my journal. Another terrific weekend in the books.

Mesaab and I near some hot springs (Mesaab is my 4'9'' Omani friend who comes up to the middle of my bicep. You can tell how I was bending my knees and hunching over to make it look like we're the same height... we're most definitely not! haha

Life's Good

    Yesterday marked the third month of living in Oman, and the time is continuing to fly by quickly. With only four weeks left in my study abroad experience, I realize how rich this experience has truly been. I have a lot of great stories to tell when I return and I have learned a good amount of leadership lessons.

    However, I have learned a lot about Omani culture too and I am still discovering practices in Omani culture that I want to adapt in my own life and especially at the Academy. One of these is experiencing life in the present and enjoying each and every day. The attitude that I am guilty of having at the Academy, along with many others, is you live for the weekends. The week with a couple practice parades, a Forrestal lecture, and a mandatory basketball game is considered the worst. You try to fast forward through parts of life, like Adam Sandler in the movie “Click” and you count down the days till graduation when you can be free of the restrictions of Bancroft Hall, you can live on your own and then really start enjoying life.

    Here in Oman I’ve been learning to volunteer for as many opportunities as I can. If, at the Academy, I had received a call saying that some random friend of a friend wanted to hang out with me for an entire weekend, not giving me any details of what we’d be doing, I would have declined. Accepting that invitation here, however, I got to go camping in the Wahhiba Desert with a group of 7 Hummers.

    Yesterday, my PF Ahmed called and asked if I’d be interested in going to his college later that day for their open mic presentation day. One of his friends picked me up from the Center and took me to Bayan College, where I got to enjoy three hours of Omani dancing and theatrical performances. Then afterwards, I spent the evening with Ahmed and about ten of his friends at a shisha restaurant shooting the breeze and conversing in Arabic, not returning to my house until about 2am.

    Oman, as a whole, is a relaxed culture; people enjoy life. They may not be as ambitious as the average American, but they’re content. By immersing myself into the culture, I have reminded myself of this valuable lesson: life is more than just living. It’s about giving God your Creator the glory, it’s about loving others, and it’s about exploring and taking advantage of your opportunities.

Life is a journey, not a destination – Ralph Waldo Emerson.

“You are just a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes away” James 4:14b, Bible. 

Some of the kids who like to play in my room on my situp machine (Enaas, Laith, and Emaan)

Me, Ahmed, Joe, and Sayyid

Mahfooth, my driver and a close friend

Visiting the prophet Job's tomb

Rouanna

My house

            In a recent post, I mentioned the existence of slavery in Oman before the 1970’s. I decided this would be a good week to elaborate on how the slave trade in Oman has impacted Oman today.

            While slavery has been illegal in Oman since Qaboos’s rise to power in 1970, there is no shortage of domestic workers. Most Omani families have one or two servants who clean the house, wash the clothes, cook, and sometimes watch after the children. These servants have a contract to live with the family and work in the house for a period of two years, after which they either continue working at that house, move on to another house, or move back to their home country.

            I have learned quite a bit about how this system works too from conversations with my family. Here is what they have told me over the past month in a nutshell: the Ethiopian servants are the cheapest, because they’re easy to bring in from Ethiopia, they don’t know much English, and they don’t do as great a job at raising children. Sri Lankans and Bangladeshi women are okay and in the medium range, but the best servants are Filipinos, because they obey well, they know English, and are good with children. However, they are more expensive.

            The more I learn, the more I am seeing how this is more a glorified slave trade. Yes, ‘domestic workers’ is a nice, politically correct term, but they are paid very little money (two hundred dollars/month is the average; most get paid less, however) for their hard daily work. On the other hand, my family has told me that they view this as an opportunity to help out people from other cultures. Living in Oman is a better experience than what these people have encountered in their own countries, and therefore, paying them to live in a better place is a gift. Two sides to every coin…

            Enter the life of Rouanna, a woman in her forties from Sri Lanka, who is the servant in my host family’s house. Rouanna’s husband works in a hotel in Sri Lanka, and they has two kids, a girl who is 21 and a son who is 14. She lives in the same house as the rest of my host family, and I am amazed by her continuous cleaning, from the time I wake up to the time I go to bed. I usually wake up around 6:30 or 7 only to see her on her hands and knees scrubbing the bathroom and shower floor Soon after my host father walks in and finishes showering, in walks Rouanna again to make sure everything is still neat. I’m thinking, how many times can you clean the same room?!

            Rouanna does not know Arabic and only speaks a little English. So my Omani host mom is the one to bark the orders in broken English, and Rouanna’s job is to try to understand her. Despite both women knowing very little English, Rouanna gets the job done! One example of how much English Rouanna really knows… tonight, I walked in from classes, asked her how her day was, and then asked when we will be eating. Rouanna smiles at me and nods. I ask again, “When is dinner?” Another nod. “When?” I point to my wrist where my watch would normally be. She repeats after me, “When, yes, when.” I come at a different approach. “What time?” She responds, “Yes, time… when.” I see this conversation is going nowhere, so I leave with a “I’ll talk with you later” as she waves and says, “Bye.”

            Rouanna is one hardworker, yet despite all the work she has put in over the past month, I do not hear any words of gratitude. I almost feel awkward using these words, what I had once considered universal manners. Regardless, I always ask her to please do my laundry and oh, thank you, thank you very much for doing it (as if I have to make up for everyone else’s lack of thankfulness).

            As I step into the life of Rouanna and think about the many other servants living and working in Oman and in the other Gulf countries, I think about how blessed I have been growing up in a loving home, having a good upbringing, and being blessed with having the opportunity to attend one of the best institutions in the world. I think I frequently have the tendency to be consumed by my own life and those immediate around me that I forget about others who lead completely different lifestyles. It’s just another reason to be thankful for the freedom I grew up around and an inspiration to fight for that freedom.

Salalah Easter

      Easter has always been an eventful day in the Snyder family, and unfortunately my day didn't have anything to do with the holiday, and I missed out on spending time with people in church, eating a good home-cooked meal (in particular, ham), and hunting for Easter eggs. Despite the homesickness I felt being halfway around the world, my spring break trip to Salalah has kicked off on a good note.

      When we arrived to the southern coastal town Saturday morning, that day was reserved for our own exploration around town. Sunday was arranged to be more structured, but rarely in Oman do things go according to plan, especially when you have an Omani driver. Instead of leaving at 9, we departed the hotel around 10 and set for the place, which I have called “Blowhole Beach,” because of the blowhole there that spits water about thirty feet high. We hiked around the nearby mountain for an hour, and then headed to Job’s tomb, hidden back in the mountains. Job is a man in the Bible, and he is also mentioned a few times in the Quran. I expected his tomb to be a bit more grandiose than what I witnessed: a roughly three-by-ten foot area representing the place where he was buried inside a small one-story building next to a green-domed mosque. We then drove down the mountain to grab some lunch. I ate some really well-cooked camel meat on a stick (meshkak, plural: meshakik), about four sticks. After stopping by the frankincense museum and exploring the archaeological site there, we headed back to the hotel. As we were driving back, we passed by a row of fruit stands, and we stopped to buy some coconuts. I remember George asking, “Wait, are we going to have to open them ourselves?” and I recalled the scene in Cast Away where Tom Hanks is trying to open a coconut by bashing it on a rock. This was my first time drinking coconut water and eating its meat and I can honestly say I am not a fan. The girls on the trip liked it though, so we now consider coconut a girl fruit.

      We rested at the hotel for two hours before we went to meet Janet Williamson, who in my opinion is the most interesting woman in the world. She’s a Canadian hippie Muslim convert who has been married three times and is the second wife of an Omani man who has three wives. You may have to read that a couple times. She lives by herself in a three-story half-house shared with the third wife and her children. While she was hosting us at her house, her first co-wife member called Janet on the phone to tell her she just got fresh cow milk from her mountain tribe. I can’t even put myself in her position – I do not understand how a woman from the West with the freedom to share life with one husband in a more cultured society would choose to live in the Dhofar region in 1979 when there were only a few roads and most people travelled by donkey, where they didn’t have any modern commodities and there was little communication with the outside world.

      The night concluded with a peaceful dinner at a Thai restaurant down by the beach underneath some date trees. We had accomplished a lot during the course of the day, and I gave thanks to my God for His grace in giving me such an extraordinary day and allowing me to experience this foreign culture and not only work on my proficiency in Arabic, but also work on my personal development.

School of fish

About 20 miles from Yemen, you get this nice view!

An ordinary sight in Salalah

Lost city of Ubar