American students heading to the Middle East for a semester abroad are often barraged with the same repeated questions and warnings: Isn’t it dangerous there? Are you going to have to cover your head? I heard they hate Americans there. I remember my granddad pulling me aside and telling me “Hon, I’m so proud of you, but I’m worried for you.”
He needn’t have worried. When I met my host family on my first night in Jordan, I was overwhelmed by their generosity. They insisted on making sure I had everything I needed and more, as they refilled my teacup again and again until I had to physically cover it with my hand so they’d get the hint that, no, I really didn’t want just one more cup. We talked about politics, culture, and food in the U.S. and Jordan. Every time I said I hadn’t tried a particular item yet, they jumped up to grab me a sample from the cabinet or fridge. My most memorable bite from that first week was a perfectly crunchy piece of falafel – a dish that would soon become a staple of my diet. Another early memory was my host mom Zain’s striking sense of style. She always wore a thoughtfully composed outfit and had her hair in silky curls. One morning, I complimented her blouse and she, seemingly instinctually, offered it to me: “I don’t need it, and I think the color would look great on you!” Taken aback, I stammered out a polite refusal.
A few weeks into my stay with the family, my host grandmother, Aida, went to the hospital for a surgery that she’d spent months worrying about. I went to visit her at the hospital during her post-op period, where I was greeted by her sons. They poured me mint tea into small paper cups whose careful design mimicked the traditional teacups at home. As the family chatted with the nurse, sharing tea and a large tray of chocolates, Aida began to stir. When she opened her eyes and saw me sitting at the edge of her bed, the first thing she asked was “Inti ghadeti, mama?” Have you eaten lunch, darling? Everyone around her exchanged knowing smiles, relieved; Aida was clearly back to normal. Worrying about everyone else before herself. The same woman once complained that Starbucks rewards weren’t generous enough. One free drink per month? They should really be doing three, at the very least.
If my host family showed love through sharing food, Friday breakfast was the week’s grandest gesture. Aida handed out flatbread that she’d heated up on the portable radiators in the living room. The picnic table in the garden was covered with dishes made to share: fresh vegetables, fried halloumi, baba ghanoush, and of course, tea. As summer turned to fall and we moved to the table inside, we transitioned from mint to sage tea, which warms you up from the inside. Zain always picked up falafel from the nearby Hamada franchise, taking care to emphasize to the cashier that she wanted the freshest, hottest, crunchiest batch. And in a personal gesture foreign to American fast food franchises, the cashier always followed through with her request. Knowing that falafel was one of my favorite foods in Jordan, Zain would put some on my plate before I got the chance to serve myself. Even when I was so full of breakfast I could burst, she insisted on handing me the last bite; “Lem taftari,” she accused me. You haven’t even eaten breakfast!
For the first few weeks, I felt so guilty refusing food that I had a serving of grilled lamb, even though I’d told my host family that I didn’t eat red meat. They wouldn’t take no for an answer, and I just didn’t want to offend them. Later on, I realized that their offers were just an obligatory part of their hospitality culture; even if my host family knew I’d refuse, they couldn’t imagine not offering me something they’d cooked. Knowing this, I got better at expressing my likes and dislikes, and backing myself up without fear of offense. As it turns out, a week of grilled lamb-induced illness is pretty motivating.
American students should be prepared for some level of culture shock when they arrive in Jordan, but I’d phrase the warnings I’d heard a little differently. You won’t have to cover your hair if you don’t want to, but you’ll learn to cover the top of your teacup. When you compliment someone’s clothing, don’t be surprised if they offer it to you. And it’s okay to say no to food — and if you refuse, you better stick to your guns.