Youth to Jordan’s government: We need jobs

Story by Hillary O’Rourke

In early May, youth demonstrators lined the streets in the city of Madaba with signs and slogans calling for the government to provide more job opportunities. Identifying as the Al Azaydeh – or youth – movement, they were protesting unemployment, an issue so pressing here that some say it threatens to thwart Jordan’s status as a modern country.

Unemployment has always been a problem in Jordan, but the country’s youth have recently experienced a skyrocketing increase in joblessness, making the total unemployment rate among them about 40 percent. The loss has been so acute that Jordan’s youth have taken their complaints to the streets in the form of protests and pamphlets.

With youth unemployment at nearly 41 percent in Jordan, demonstrators took to the streets of Amman in March to ask that the government provide them with more job opportunities. Photo courtesy of Eman Jaradat.

Hamza Budiri, a 26-year-old electrical engineer from Amman, hasn’t been able to find a job for two years. “I’m unemployed. The construction sector fell in the last economic crisis so there aren’t many jobs out there for me,” said the activist. “I’ve been involved since the Tunisian revolts” – which took place in 2010. “I take part in the weekly demonstrations. I’ve been doing this for more than a year and I can’t find a job.”

The economy in Jordan is suffering with a budget deficit approaching $4 billion for 2012. This directly impacts many economic sectors, including construction and electricity, which are already hurt from recession due to economic crises abroad.

Salah Allouzi, professor of sociology at the University of Jordan, said that unemployment has increased over the years not only because of the stumbling economy but also due to other factors including lack of educational career guidance, poor wages and working conditions, and a gap between many of the job seekers’ skills and what employers are looking for.

“Youth unemployment has been severely impacted over the years,” he said. “In terms of numbers, the (Jordanian) population is mostly youth so these youth movements are very important.”

Nearly 41 percent of people between the ages of 25 and 39 were unemployed in Jordan in 2011, according to a survey released last year by the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan Department of Statistics. That number is significantly higher than the 33 percent recorded as unemployed in 2003.

The Al Azaydeh group, based in Madaba – which is a city 18 miles south of Amman – is only one of many efforts protesting the government in Jordan. But Al Azaydeh’s primary objective, unlike some of the other groups organizing, is to fight for more jobs for the young specifically.

Activist Budiri said the youth are doing this through weekly protests, forming secular youth movements, creating unions and protesting corruption by declaring the names of allegedly corrupt officials on signs they carry on the streets.

Sayel Hawawsha, a professor of science and technology at the Applied Science University in Amman, explains that because the Al Azaydeh movement is focusing on unemployment, it won’t be fading away any time soon.

He points to the protest staged just a few weeks ago in Madaba – calling on Prime Minister Fayez Tarawneh to provide more job opportunities – as an example of what needs to be done to keep the movement alive.

Hawawsha, on the other hand, believes more needs to be done than a few protests on the streets. Organizers need to be committed, consistent, vocal with the media, and unmoved by bribes or offers to specific effective individuals designed to shut them up. If activists continue protesting and stick to their cause, though, the government will have to address the demands at some point, he said.

“The government is going to deal with it either directly or indirectly by luring people in from the movements and appointing them in the government,” Hawawsha said. “The government may absorb [these ideas] because of this or it could revert to other solutions, like spreading disputes in the government to disperse their efforts.”

Both Hawawsha and Budiri said corruption is at the heart of the disintegrating workforce.

“We have no money because there is a lot of corruption,” Budiri said. He was speaking from the site of an impromptu meeting with some of his comrades. Seven members of similar movements including The Jordanian Social Liberation Party and the Secular Youth Alliance gathered with him near a bench against an unlit wall outside a café in Paris Circle near downtown. They were headed next to the house of one of the participants to plot their next move.

“The king pays people to be loyal to him,” said Budiri, fearless. It is almost unheard of here to criticize the king, who is seen as separate from the lawmakers who constitute the government that protesters are railing against. “We spend a lot of money on the army. We have the best army but there’s no real need,” he said.

But to make their messages clear, Al Azaydeh and other movements like it must unify their voices to be heard, experts say. The people themselves, too, must get behind the movement.

“Al Azaydeh hasn’t had a very big impact yet. It’s still in its early stages, but I believe there will be an impact in the future,” said Hawawsha. “They need to keep protesting if they are to make a change… It just takes some time.”

Viewed by many as a disgrace, a drinking culture is developing in Amman

Story and photo by Jessica Teich

AMMAN, Jordan – Sanaa Nabeel, 24, was standing at the counter of Vino, a liquor store in the upscale Abdoun Circle neighborhood, ready to buy two bottles of Amstel beer when the cashier asked if she wanted to drink from one of them right there in the store.

He popped the cap off with the edge of a white lighter and handed the bottle to her for a sip. “I am a Muslim, I don’t link religion to any drinking act,” said Nabeel, an administrative assistant at Sukhtin Industrial Trading Company in Amman.

Nabeel spoke with a sort of counter-culture sneer, careful to make it clear that she can both drink and be a practicing Muslim, if that’s what she wants to do. She represents a developing culture in Amman that conflicts with what the predominantly Islamic society here teaches – that alcohol consumption is a disgraceful, disrespectful act.

At H&H Liquor Store in Abdoun Circle, beer and vodka are the most popular choices of a growing clientele.

“If in the end of the day you want to drink, it is not accepted,” said Mohammad Khazer al-Majali, professor of Islamic studies at the University of Jordan. “In general, those who drink are not respected in this country.”

As a devout Muslim, Majali has an opinion that is much more in line with the traditional Islamic code. But a younger, less traditional generation is coming of age in Jordan, and its members are exerting their own lifestyle choices.

Dr. Nasser Shuriquie, clinical director and deputy manager at Al Rashid Hospital for Psychiatry and Addiction in the Abu Nsair neighborhood just north of Amman, elaborated on the country’s drinking demographic: “Ninety percent of Jordanians are Muslim, and in Islam, alcohol is not allowed. But alcohol isn’t forbidden in Jordanian law,” Shuriquie said. “People drink in this country, people of every background, the upper, middle and lower classes – but religious people tend not to.”

And yet, the growing popularity of liquor vendors in the city suggests that despite a Muslim culture, people are in fact indulging.

Samir Farah, manager of H&H Supermarket and Liquor Store also in Abdoun, has noticed a recent increase in clientele. “In 24 hours, we might see 150 people,” he said, adding that most of his customers fall between the ages of 20 and 35.

“People have been drinking more lately, with changing generations and how people think,” agreed Hadi Nofal, 19, who graduated from high school in 2011. “They’re becoming more open-minded about drinking,”

Nofal first tried alcohol last year, and though he still drinks now, he avoids doing so in excess to keep his habit a secret from his parents. “They don’t know I drink. They’d be angry and really upset, and they’d try to prevent me from doing so,” the teen said.

Though Nofal only began experimenting with alcohol recently, many of his peers operate differently. Talal Faris, 18, for example, said he began drinking when he was 12. Now a first-year student at American University of Madaba, Faris said his mother and father are not supportive of his decision to drink. Earlier this year, he got exceedingly intoxicated and was delivered home to enraged parents.

“My dad was really angry, he kicked me out for a week,” Faris said. “My parents told me I should quit drinking. They’re not OK with it, but I’m OK with it. I just drink to have fun.”

Faris did acknowledge, though, that drinking has had a negative impact on his life. “Sure, there can be bad effects. My stomach is [messed] up,” he said. Faris also noted that he’s only taken two exams this semester, and skipped the rest. “I think my GPA is below one.”

Nabeel, still sipping her Amstel at Vino, has developed a similar pattern of hiding from her family her decision to drink. With seven siblings, Nabeel is careful not to let her brothers and sisters see what she’s up to. “My parents know I drink and they’re fine with it, but I won’t drink at their house,” she said, pushing her long dark hair away from her face. “I wouldn’t mind, but I won’t hold a drink in front of [my siblings,] not under the circumstance of being a bad example.”

Shuriquie, the psychiatrist at Al Rashid Hospital, said that Nabeel’s sentiment is one shared by many Muslim families throughout Jordan. “You can drink, but don’t expect to sit at the table [with the family] if you do.”

In addition to the social and physical hardships drinkers face, they also suffer a financial challenge here. Farah, the manager of H&H Liquor Store, said that among his customers, “flavored vodka and beer are most popular.” A standard bottle of Stolichnaya, the most popular brand of vodka at H&H, rings in at 23 Jordanian dinar, or about $32. And with 16 percent sales tax on all alcoholic purchases in Jordan, drinking here isn’t a bargain.

Aware of all of the risks and dangers that come with alcohol consumption, some members of the younger generation choose to opt out of the booze scene. Orobah Alalwan, 19, is part of that non-drinking crowd – and she said she’s not alone. “Out of about 200 friends, none of them drink, ” the University of Jordan student said. “It’s the rule of Islam and it’s the regulation in this country. Drinking, it is not good. The human is lost.”

Majali, too, is adamant in his urgings for a more rigid stance. “No one has the right to argue something ancient, clearly in the Koran and the word of the prophet,” Majali said. “My hope for alcohol is that it will be vanished and forbidden in Jordan, totally, everywhere, because we are suffering.

“It harms the body,” he added. “It harms the mind, and we have to stop.”

Gay Amman: A scene is slowly emerging

Story and photo by Laura Finaldi

AMMAN, Jordan – As the sun begins to set on Rainbow Street, a 28-year-old Ammani graphic designer checks his BlackBerry and tap tap taps on his computer from a seat at the end of the bar. Alone, he waits for friends and bides his time with tea and a pack of Marlboro Ultra Lights.

At first glance, he fits into the culture at this café and club: Handsome and slim with shiny black hair, he’s wearing a neat, button-down shirt and trendy jeans. But he stands apart from his contemporaries in one significant way. He is willing to admit he’s gay in a place that does not, and will not, accept him.

“I’m always [at this bar] with my gay friends. Sometimes two of them are looking really gay, and if I see a family member I have to hide from them,” said the designer, who spoke on condition of not offering his name for fear of hostile and dangerous repercussions. “They will make troubles because everyone here likes to talk.

“I’m afraid,” he added – “always.”

Patrons mingle at Books@Cafe just off Rainbow Street, one of the few places in Amman where homosexuals can express themselves freely.

While the topic of homosexuality is at least tolerated in Jordan above the whispers it’s relegated to elsewhere in the Middle East, being openly gay is not an option here. Cultural mores deem homosexuality abhorrent and unnatural. To live that way means existing in a sort of exile from the general population. To open up would be worse, dishonoring one’s family. Here, there is no greater offense.

“In Jordan, there is a very negative attitude towards homosexuality, and those who are [gay] are looked down upon,” said Musa Shteiwi, an expert on ethnic and minority relations in the Middle East at the University of Jordan. “I don’t think society is ready to accept the culture of homosexuality.”

Yet, there are at least subtle signs that things could be changing.

A 2012 book called “3aroos Amman” by Fadi Zaghmout involves a homosexual character who was driven to marry a woman despite being gay. He says younger people are buying the book in high numbers, and passing it around among each other. Jordan’s JO, a lifestyle and culture magazine that trumpets its “groundbreaking” and “fresh” approach, published an article in 2009 entitled “Sex in the City?” about the gay scene in more cosmopolitan Beirut. The second part of its headline reads: “OK, the ‘city’ isn’t New York this time – it’s Beirut. But the Paris of the Middle East is going through its own crisis of sexuality now – and Amman could well be next.”

To acknowledge the gay scene here, even in small mentions like these, is to begin to normalize it, experts say. But theory does not yet reflect reality: gays and lesbians in Jordan are still forced to exist off the grid.

“[The gay people] are very strict with who goes into that community and whether or not that new person is really gay or not or if they will get exposed or not,” said Ashraf Alqudah, a clinical psychologist at the University of Jordan. “They don’t want to be publicly exposed. The ramifications of that are huge. They can lose dignity, respect. They just can lose a lot.”

NOT A CRIME, BUT GAYS ARE TREATED AS CRIMINALS

No Jordanian law explicitly prohibits homosexuality. Offenders will not be thrown into jail for being gay. But to admit to homosexuality is to subject oneself, still, to public humiliation, beatings and even death by those who find it unnatural and in violation of the will of their god. Furthermore, because Jordan is an Islamic country, and Islam unequivocally views homosexuality as a sin, it is, by default, seen as a crime. Therefore, people who engage in the lifestyle have no choice but to keep it quiet. As a result, there are no available figures or data to suggest how large the population is, or how it might have changed over time.

“Many of the gay people are closeted. They have bad feelings in their heads” about what will happen to them, said Zaghmout, who wrote his novel with the hope that he could spark discussion about the acceptance of homosexuality. And while he admits things are getting looser for gays in Amman, he doesn’t believe much has changed beyond the borders of this capital city of 2.5 million. “I don’t know if it has evolved in other places than in Amman. More people are coming out, and more people are knowing about the issue, but not to the extent that they should.”

Others, such as Shteiwi, are seeing a shift – if only in one demographic here. “I think [the perception] might be changing among the upper class, especially those who have been educated about sexuality and gender,” he said.

In many cases, experts agree, the extent to which a person is accepted depends on his or her gender. In Jordan, men have more freedom than women. So if a male who comes out is rejected by society, he can escape Jordan, if necessary. But for women, the punishment is much more severe. Since even a heterosexual relationship in which sex is involved out of wedlock is not allowed for women, coming out as a lesbian is a particularly dangerous risk that could result in disfigurement and death.

“The closer to the culture the family is, the more likely the woman or the girl will be killed,” Alqudah said. “Killing is not an option in religion. But it is the first option in the culture. Most of the time [a lesbian] will just be imprisoned at home until she gets married.”

ThursGAY AND OTHER ATTEMPTS TO MEET UP

At Books@Cafe, a bar just off Rainbow Street near Amman’s first circle, men sit across from one another at small tables, sharing an arjelah – the Arabic version of hookah pipes.

Here, it is “OK to be gay,” said a waitress, earnestly.

But the 28-year-old graphic designer, still there with his smokes and drink, said that’s not always true.

As an alternative, he sometimes tries to come up with other places for him and his friends to express themselves safely. “At my place, every Thursday [we have a party]. It’s called ‘ThursGAY,’” he said. Usually about 10 people show up.

His friend, a 23-year-old male freelance makeup artist, hair stylist and costume designer who is also gay, said he, too, tries to be with others in the lifestyle. He meets people on networking sites such as Manjam, GayRomeo and Grindr to find people like him with the ultimate goal of coming together. To be with each other – either in the shrouded confidentiality of a private home, or in the anonymity of a chat room online – is to feel part of a community, which is a critical component of keeping one’s sanity in such a hostile place, they said.

“Mainly, there’s groups, or families. They take care of each other, they stand by each other, they help each other get hooked up,” the 23-year-old said.

He stopped speaking, though, interrupted by the entrance of a friend. The tall, thin man with a chopped trendy haircut, striped sweater and skinny jeans was apprised on the conversation, but showed no signs of wanting to participate.

“I’m not gay,” he said abruptly.

“Yeah, and your mom’s a virgin,” the graphic designer said. The two exchanged a giddy laugh and took sips from their cups of tea.

Displaced Palestinians in Jordan use Facebook to garner support

Story by Caroline Edwards

AMMAN, Jordan – On a recent Tuesday in May, protesters filled the streets of the capital to acknowledge Nakba, or “Day of the Catastrophe,” when Palestinians mark Israeli’s 1948 Declaration of Independence. It’s the anniversary of when nearly 700,000 Palestinians were displaced from their homes and their villages were destroyed.

This year, Nakba Day also marked the end of one of the longest hunger strikes in history; two men in Israeli prisons went without food for 76 days in protest of the mistreatment of the Palestinian people, while a handful of others lasted up to 50 days without food.

More quietly, another form of protest took place to acknowledge the anniversary. On that May day, hundreds of people around the world swapped out their Facebook profile pictures to show instead the cartoon image of an Israeli prison guard in shades of brown. The Hebrew word “Shabas”– the name for the “Israeli Prisons Service” – was stamped across the image. The brown hues represent the color of clothes prisoners are forced to wear while they are detained.

The idea of the cartoon images, those involved said, was to raise awareness for the Palestinian perspective. Participants wanted people across the globe to sit in solidarity with their effort to return to their homeland – which is now occupied by Israelis.

Because not everyone knew what these pictures represented, when users saw them they began asking questions, which in turn created a buzz about the conflict. And that was exactly the point.

“A lot of friends ask, ‘Why did you change your profile picture? What do those words mean?’,” said Mohammad Zeidan, a local activist and blogger. “It’s a great movement on Facebook between foreigners, mainly Americans and Indians, who are advocating the Palestinian cause, and especially Palestinians in Jordan.”

Some people, like Zeidan, who also teaches in Istanbul, believe that the medium of social media is a powerful tool that will translate into noticeable results. Others, such as agricultural studies major Rand Qazweeny from Petra University, believe otherwise.

“It helps the situation, but only on Facebook,” he said. “In real life [people] don’t pay attention to it,” said Qazweeny.

Three months ago, University of Jordan chemical engineering student Mahdi Bsharat, 20, created the Facebook group “Ya Jabal Mayhesak Rih,” or Palestinians Students – Jordan Universities, which now has more than 500,000 members. He, too, believes that Facebook is a sort of new frontier to advocate a position and build support for a cause.

“I made the group to [organize] all the Palestinian students and unite them with other students who love Palestine into one group,” said Bsharat. “My ambition was to publish the love for Palestine; every Palestinian in Jordan believes that one day we will return home.”

The group regularly posts poems, recipes for traditional foods, videos of traditional dances and other culturally focused items to show their pride and love for their country. Many of the poems are works by the late Mahmoud Darwish, a nationally recognized native Palestinian poet who typically wrote about the relationship between his people and their country. Pictures from recent protests and news stories accompany these posts, many purporting to show mistreatment of Palestinian civilizations by Israeli military.

One specific post Bsharat shared recently was a photo of a woman trying to stop an Israeli officer from capturing a Palestinian boy during a protest. The poem that accompanies the photo reads, “I run/Broke up dust accumulation/Homeland and the profane/You/Titles of all/Most sacred/Most sacred/The most sacred/Will not forget you Palestine.”

Showing these pictures on a social media website has a broad impact as Facebook gives group members the opportunity to reach out not only to people in areas that are directly affected, but all across the globe, supporters say, leading to more allies.

Computer networking professor Abed Elkarim Al-banna, from Petra University in Amman, believes that social media is the most powerful tool for people to reach out to global supporters.

“Social networks make the world as a small village community with people in different countries and you stay connected; with the revolutions in the Arab world, social media makes everyone horizontal…everyone’s on the same level.”

It also helps to counter what some Jordanians feel is an unfair bias shown in the mainstream media toward Israel.

Even Jordanian people who don’t necessarily identify as Palestinian are passionately advocating on behalf of their friends and extended family to show their support.

“I think it’s a testament to the establishment of the 1948 war and the participation in Jordan on the popular level and how the Jordanian people tried to stand against the establishment of Israel,” said Zeidan.

Group members and activists say that this Facebook movement has crossed borders, reaching people worldwide.

“Facebook gives a good opportunity to connect with the world,” said Ezza Arnatour, an economics student from Petra University and a sympathizer with the Nabka cause. “It’s a very good way to send a message to everyone you know.”

Jordan’s youth can’t think critically, activist says

Story by Matt Kauffman // Photo by Christina Bivona

AMMAN, Jordan – Jordanian youth are so complacent in their insulated lives that they don’t have the capacity to think critically – a reality so stark it could potentially set back the development of a more democratic and politically active society.

That’s the take of Mohammad Zeidan, a university instructor, activist and blogger who focuses on youth culture. He told this to a group of American university students from Boston visiting the country to report on its people, politics and culture.

Mohammad Zeidan, a university instructor and social activist, talks to American students about the need for Jordanian youth to be more literate.

“I was meeting some friends in Tafileh” – a town south of the Dead Sea in Jordan – “in a very impoverished neighborhood,” said Zeidan, who is 25. “We talked about novels and how important they are. Then one of them, a university graduate, asked me, ‘What is a novel?’ And he meant it. He didn’t get the picture of a novel. He’d never even thought of buying a book,” said Zeidan, who teaches at May 29 University in Istanbul, Turkey.

A tall, native Jordanian and impassioned speaker, Zeidan believes that this younger generation, which makes up the vast majority of the country’s population, is absent vital critical thinking skills due in large part to the inadequacies of the educational system.

With more than 250,000 students attending 27 universities and 51 community colleges, education in Jordan has long been thought of as one of the best systems in the Arab world. Yet Zeidan believes it does not encourage independent thought and punishes those who ask challenging questions.

“Teachers are not open to criticism. If you interrupt a professor here you will be kicked out,” he said in an interview after the speech. Zeidan is finishing his master’s degree in translation studies at the University of Jordan. “At university once, I asked a critical question, a question that challenged my professor’s view, and he told me I was going to fail his course. You cannot do that here. It is crazy.”

Zeidan is the founding member of a local book club called Khair Jalees (translated to Best Companion) and discussion leader in two others – his and his friends’ attempt to alter the course of complacency. He tries to create a vibrant intellectual environment, he said, so that youth in the region can get together in non-violent ways and start talking and thinking outside defined cultural norms.

As an example, he mentioned a recent discussion in his book club about a 2011 self-published novel by Fadi Zaghmout, a young Jordanian blogger. Called “3aroos Amman,” it centers around three women and a gay man, and is filled with topics considered to be societal taboos in Jordan. Yet instead of inciting anger and violence – what might be expected in a culture where realities such as homosexuality are forbidden – the book’s subject matter triggered debate and discussion.

People “wrote about that meeting” after its conclusion, Zeidan said. “That was really cool.”

Though it’s a priority of his, tackling the failure of Jordanian youth to properly appreciate literature is just one aspect of a larger issue, Zeidan said. And this fundamental problem can’t be fixed by a few book clubs: “There is political persecution. There is no freedom of speech. Middle class families are discouraging their children from even asking critical questions because they are afraid of the repercussions politically,” said Zeidan.

It is a start, though, he added – a small step that might eventually lead to bigger ones. “Without reading, without knowledge, we will not get better.”