Every morning at about 5/5.30am 'C' and I
lay awake (we have moved two of our beds outside), staring up at the starry
pitch black night sky, waiting for the muezzin from the mosque opposite us to
finish reciting the call for prayer so we may go back to sleep. This morning-
the first day of Eid- the muezzin is incessant.
Our tranquil Doha neighbourhood is reverberating with the melodious chants
of numerous muezzins, projected far and wide through the muffled loudspeakers
pinned on each minaret.
As such soon after 6am I gave up on sleeping for the morning; now it is 7.30 am and the chants of ‘Allah akhbar’/ God is great, seem unlikely to relent anytime soon! There is another unusual sound that has pervaded Doha in the days preceding Eid: the ‘baaaaaaaaaing’ of sheep. As the anticipation for celebration grows, so Doha’s audible transformation into a farmyard accelerates. Each family in this well-off neighbourhood has purchased a sheep, to slaughter in honor of Ibrahim’s willingness to sacrifice his son Ishmael in a gesture of faith to God (same as bible story). The Director General for Secondary Schools at the Ministry of Education kindly pressed 'C' and I to accept a sheep from him to slaughter for Eid. I told him that perhaps this year it was best for me to ‘watch and learn’ in preparation for next.
As such soon after 6am I gave up on sleeping for the morning; now it is 7.30 am and the chants of ‘Allah akhbar’/ God is great, seem unlikely to relent anytime soon! There is another unusual sound that has pervaded Doha in the days preceding Eid: the ‘baaaaaaaaaing’ of sheep. As the anticipation for celebration grows, so Doha’s audible transformation into a farmyard accelerates. Each family in this well-off neighbourhood has purchased a sheep, to slaughter in honor of Ibrahim’s willingness to sacrifice his son Ishmael in a gesture of faith to God (same as bible story). The Director General for Secondary Schools at the Ministry of Education kindly pressed 'C' and I to accept a sheep from him to slaughter for Eid. I told him that perhaps this year it was best for me to ‘watch and learn’ in preparation for next.
As Eid has grown nearer and nearer 'C' and I have rapidly become inundated by invitations to visit the homes of
friends, teachers, ministers, students and strangers. The next four days will
be crammed full of numerous prearranged engagements as well as, no doubt,
numerous more unarranged visits. In true Sudanese style the hospitality rendered
to us is not limited to a certain level of acquaintance but is apparently
unconditional in its scope and depth.
Today (Friday) we only have one visit arranged; to Naglar’s home- a colleague of 'C's whose father is Professor of English at the University of Kordofan. On Saturday we are going to Ustaz Hussein Klayal’s home, head of English at Ishmael al-Welli School, for breakfast and the sacrificial sheep slaughtering, before briefly visiting the homes of a number of other members of staff at IAW. Sunday is designated to Said Ali school, with a visit to Ustaza Amna’s house for breakfast before more brief visits to the wider faculty. In the evening we have arranged to visit the home of Moussa, one of my students at IAW. Only on Monday do our engagements overlap(although this may be premature as we have been told to expect an invitation from the Ministry of Education for N.Kordofan and Director General for Secondary Schools), with 'C'and I able to choose only one of the two weddings that we have both been independently invited to. By association, it is 'C's invitation that has prevailed: it is a colleague of her’s getting married rather than, as in my case, the brother of the RE teacher.
Today (Friday) we only have one visit arranged; to Naglar’s home- a colleague of 'C's whose father is Professor of English at the University of Kordofan. On Saturday we are going to Ustaz Hussein Klayal’s home, head of English at Ishmael al-Welli School, for breakfast and the sacrificial sheep slaughtering, before briefly visiting the homes of a number of other members of staff at IAW. Sunday is designated to Said Ali school, with a visit to Ustaza Amna’s house for breakfast before more brief visits to the wider faculty. In the evening we have arranged to visit the home of Moussa, one of my students at IAW. Only on Monday do our engagements overlap(although this may be premature as we have been told to expect an invitation from the Ministry of Education for N.Kordofan and Director General for Secondary Schools), with 'C'and I able to choose only one of the two weddings that we have both been independently invited to. By association, it is 'C's invitation that has prevailed: it is a colleague of her’s getting married rather than, as in my case, the brother of the RE teacher.
With the help of the various teachers at our
schools, 'C' and I feel as though we have settled very quickly into our
jobs and daily routine. While there exists a daunting assumption among some
staff that we are education professionals, capable of expertly invigorating the
teaching environment, the general reaction has been a genuine enthusiasm that
two native English speakers (well one and a half) are, for the foreseeable future,
going to be working and living in El-Obeid.
This is no more true than for the ‘sister act’ of Amna Ramadan, Intizar and Nazrat at Said Ali school. Amna, Intizar and Nazrat, all English teachers at Said Ali, resemble a Sudanese ‘sex and the city’ style clique. Their exuberance, charisma and talkativeness, fuses with their constant togetherness to provide constant entertainment when I drop in for a late lunch, or after school visit. Wearing matching white ‘tops’ the three women would be indistinguishable if not for the different coloured long sleeve shirts worn underneath. In the past couple of weeks 'C' has become enthusiastically embraced into the ‘sister acts’ clique, receiving a showering of gifts- such as perfume, spices, tops, food- as testament to her membership. In addition she has become privy to the ‘giggly’ gossip sessions that usually overlook my, or any other man’s presence.
These conversations routinely indulge in a kinky, and unreserved content as explicit in topic as ‘how to seduce your new husband’. Five minutes in the presence of these women would surely banish those naive premonitions that Muslim Sudanese women are meek, submissive and strict adherents of patriarchal orthodoxies. While not making me feel quite so awkward as in the presence of the sister act, conversations with the male teachers at my schools have taken some equally interesting directions. Other than football and the weather (two areas I am very adept at conversing in), common themes have been my wedding day, the etiquette of kissing in marriage, babies, alcohol and the authenticity of WWE (wrestling). Like children trying to hold on to the image of Father Christmas, some of teachers at Ishmael al-Welli had a similarly difficult time in registering my pronouncement that WWE is fake.
This is no more true than for the ‘sister act’ of Amna Ramadan, Intizar and Nazrat at Said Ali school. Amna, Intizar and Nazrat, all English teachers at Said Ali, resemble a Sudanese ‘sex and the city’ style clique. Their exuberance, charisma and talkativeness, fuses with their constant togetherness to provide constant entertainment when I drop in for a late lunch, or after school visit. Wearing matching white ‘tops’ the three women would be indistinguishable if not for the different coloured long sleeve shirts worn underneath. In the past couple of weeks 'C' has become enthusiastically embraced into the ‘sister acts’ clique, receiving a showering of gifts- such as perfume, spices, tops, food- as testament to her membership. In addition she has become privy to the ‘giggly’ gossip sessions that usually overlook my, or any other man’s presence.
These conversations routinely indulge in a kinky, and unreserved content as explicit in topic as ‘how to seduce your new husband’. Five minutes in the presence of these women would surely banish those naive premonitions that Muslim Sudanese women are meek, submissive and strict adherents of patriarchal orthodoxies. While not making me feel quite so awkward as in the presence of the sister act, conversations with the male teachers at my schools have taken some equally interesting directions. Other than football and the weather (two areas I am very adept at conversing in), common themes have been my wedding day, the etiquette of kissing in marriage, babies, alcohol and the authenticity of WWE (wrestling). Like children trying to hold on to the image of Father Christmas, some of teachers at Ishmael al-Welli had a similarly difficult time in registering my pronouncement that WWE is fake.
At
8.30am the chants of ‘Allah akhbar’ are still in full swing as 'C' and I are getting ready for our first
Eid visit!
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