One of the cornerstones of Jordanian society and culture, a “Jaha” ( J as in Judge), is broadly a word that means “a congress of important men”. The word itself developed significant connotations within the social norms of Jordan, now it has several important functions in weddings, times of trouble between two families or tribes, and more generally, social gatherings.

In this entry I will only talk about the role of a Jaha in weddings. Seeing as the form of our Jordanian society is essentially and deeply tribal, Jaha holds a certain number, preferably large, of men that enjoy a particular importance in their tribes. Those include the Sheikh, or head, of the tribe, and mostly old men of power.

Before a wedding takes place, there are fixed steps that need to be followed to ensure things go in harmony with traditions and customs. The women of the groom’s and the bride’s families arrange the details of the engagement, and then the Jaha plays its role in making the off-scene arrangements official and public.

It is the duty of the bride’s family to receive the Jaha of the groom’s family or tribe. The Jaha is headed by the most influential man available in the tribe or at that time, and it proceeds to the location of the bride’s family. Once the men are seated, it is customary of the bride’s family to offer them, as part of the rites of hospitality, Arabic coffee served in little traditional cups. What happens next is most interesting: the leaders of the Jaha takes his cup but puts it down without drinking it, to signal that something is the matter.

Then the leader speaks up and address the bride’s family, who would be presented by similar men of importance of the bride’s relatives, and tells them that the Jaha will not accept their hospitality unless their demand is met. This is of course a cliché, it is a traditional play staged with utmost seriousness and handled very carefully. On the other side, the head of the bride’s family asks what the Jaha’s demand is, and the leader of the Jaha announces that they have come to ask for the hand of a certain girl, and he names her, for a certain man.

The symbol of the bride’s tribe naturally consents and asks the Jaha to proceed to drinking their coffee, to mark mutual agreement. After this beautiful action and reaction, the modern Jaha is offered Arabic sweets, mainly Knafeh, and chocolates and other delights.

I should also add that, the larger the tribe of the groom, the larger the Jaha would normally be. The number of men contained in the Jaha is crucial, if it’s handsome this means the groom’s tribe is more powerful. The Jaha is usually treated to a wholesome lunch before heading to the bride’s tribe’s premises, and this lunch features the traditional Jordanian dish “Mansaf”. I will post a picture of Mansaf in tomorrow’s entry, hopefully.

It is fascinating to see the integration of old customs in today’s modern life in Jordan. I have never heard of a wedding that was settled without a Jaha, despite the obvious façade-like duty it has. It still connects the old with the new, and recalls to minds the traditions and culture of this great country.

It’s spring time, nice colors should show not only from earth but from my closet and yours. I am wearing green and blue today; a loud tone of green and a subtle shade of blue. This is a conversation that took place at the office minutes ago:

Tololy (walks into one of the offices to get something done): Good morning! Buongiorno!
Expert A: Buongiorno! Ahhh green! It’s spring time!
Tololy: Yeah!
Expert A: Now all the nice colors will come out.
Tololy: I actually didn’t know what to wear today.
Expert B: It’s nice, I like it.
Tololy: Thank you.
Expert A: Like a frog.
Tololy: Ha Ha. Not funny.

If green is for frog, I should be crowned queen of some colony today. Next thing you know, yellow is for jealousy, pink is for girls only, and orange is limited to summer.

When Oedipus The King was first introduced to me in Drama class, I was so impressed with this then-new form of reading. I hadn’t enjoyed reading many Greek plays before, and I certainly had not read anything by Sophocles, or about Oedipus.

I remember how much I enjoyed the eloquence in the texts, the ebb and flow of emotions, the statements that seem to speak of grand understanding of life; typical of Greek plays, and the catharsis that not only I, but all of my fellow students felt during our study of the play.

From that day onward, I’d hunt for ancient Greek plays composed by Sophocles or Aeschylus. And until this day I hunt for an original version, I hate photocopies, of Aristotle’s Poetics, still my searches end in vain.

Now on to talking about Oedipus. I must say I am glad that I enjoyed the chance of reading Oedipus The King twice, with a considerable gap of time between the two readings. The effect the tale has on me has shrunk a bit, mainly because I am now more accustomed to the beautiful word-play techniques that the Greeks employed so heavily in their works. The feeling of shocked fascination when Jocasta denounces the gods has technically vanished, the overwhelming sympathy with Oedipus at his moment of recognition is a little less, and the mental debates whether or not what happened was anyone’s fault, or the gods’, are not as frequent and definitely not as stormy.

I am writing this entry with the sole aim of motivating you enough to read the play. You cannot know what you are lacking unless you identify it. This play is not long, have no fears, but it is “full” enough that you would appreciate it for life. In a sincere reflection, what could be more important that the subject of struggle between man’s alleged free will and predestination, or the will of a mighty power ruling over him?

Do expect a detailed entry about Oedipus, probably handling all three of Sophocles’ plays about the Theban king; Antigone, Oedipus The King, and Oedipus at Colonus. I would hate to ruin your appetite for reading the splendid group of three, not a trilogy -mind you, so kindly inform me if by dedicating an entry to this topic I would be stooping to that folly.

Generally apathetic.

I have come to discover, through determined and close monitoring, that apathy leads nowhere. I have also learnt that, regardless of circumstances, you cannot erase any actions or the consequences of these actions from your life. You may ignore them as you will, and they may trick you into believing that they are gone, just for a set length of time, but they will be there all the same, all the time.

A horrendous job I’d do at writing relationship how-to’s, but recently someone asked me a question related to wether or not I will be tackling any such issues in the future. I object to very little, mostly nothing really, if it meets my fancy.

And, as a reward for your patience with my complex syntax and interests, I shall unveil to you the recipe of Love Potion no.9. Let it be known and public that I will not, under any circumstances, be held responsible for any harmful consequences that may occur once this potion is prepared and/or tried. Now that I have stripped myself of all legal and moral responsibility, enjoy, and love one another.

In a small pot, simmer a half cup of jojoba oil and, moving your spoon clockwise, stir in 9 drops each of the following essential oils: ambergris, cinnamon, frankincense, jasmine, lavender, musk, orange blossom, rose, violet, and ylang ylang. Let cool and store in a dark glass container. Dab yourself with it as you would your favorite perfume before a night out (or a night in) to drive your loved one wild with desire.

Hallelujah my dear ones. This is so accurate, via BlogThings. I am publishing this because A- I will not submit to Hareega’s (subliminal?) threat, and B- I am not in the mood for work and my word flow is down with a bad case of the evil eye. Not really, let the haters dream on.

You Are 50% Weird

Normal enough to know that you’re weird… But too damn weird to do anything about it!

A movement I have come to learn about through my close observation of Fakir Mustafar’s works, ModPrims (Modern Primitives) are a group of people, race and belief aside, who believe in the vitality of mixing state-of-the-art technology and tribal body modification methods.

The ModPrims like Fakir Mustafar modify their bodies in numerous ways by piercing, tattooing, suspending, hooking, chaining, binding, or reforming their structure to revive old ritualistic behaviors found and practiced in all parts of the world in the past and the present. They embrace this day’s cutting-edge technologies that modify the human body, think plastic surgery, implants, or genetic manipulation, by employing the rules of modern science and medicine in their exercises

They argue that the people of this age can no longer identify with genuine pleasure, or pain for that matter, hence their manipulation of their bodies in ways that generate exactly those two elements on the short and long runs: pain and pleasure. This is the pursuit of ModPrims: sensation.

And since the limitations of the body cannot be obeyed, and mental faculties exceed the frame of the flesh, as well as their own, these manipulations serve as a means to defy such limitations and to break their hold on humans.

There is much more to be said about this movement, but I leave you at this. Should you be interested in learning a bit more about the practices or the foundations of ModPrims, read this article.

On my way to Salt city this morning, I managed to spare some minutes to capture pictures of two little boys who were present. I enjoyed talking to my models, and they were very cooperative and allowed me to have a mini photo-shoot of my own production.

I am sure it is clear that I have become picture-oriented lately in my posts, perhaps to an excess, but this is, like most things, a non-lasting phase. Then again, perhaps it is not so. Who am I predict?

Featuring the second, and final, set of photos taken in Ohio’s Cedar Point last summer. First set is here.

To share a little of what happened in Cedar Point, I will tell you the following story. I arrived at the park quite zealous about the prospects of trying all the roller coasters and seeing as this place is coined “The Roller Coaster Capital of the World”, I sincerely thought I was up for it.

I first had to stand in line under the scorching sun for about 30 minutes to get the tickets for the very first feature in that place, called a Demon Drop. In retrospect, I realize what a gigantic mistake that was. I thought I could never scream, but I screamed so loud and with such heart that I did not hear myself. Nonetheless, it was a decent adrenaline rush and afterwards, needless to say, I played it safe, and the person previously seated next to me as we were dropped preferred to wander alone with bleeding ears.

Meet Snoopy.

And we pose for a picture. The poor performers in the customes can only take the heat for about 10 minutes, they dance and parade around, have their pictures taken during this time, then they take a 30-minute break. We were lucky to have caught them in the act.

A general overview of the park.

Those are the crazy people who like to scream.

And this is the nice ferris wheel, I am waving from one of the cabins. Look closely.

Who says you you have to play it rough to have a good time? Jude and Leen obviously do not think you have to.