Hey, those of you still with me. Have had a few queries – “where is the rest of the Yemen story?” This subject is overwhelming; what to write? A picture IS worth a thousand words, and I have no pictures to post – Vicci took the pictures, I kept the journal, sort of. Today I received in the mail from Vicci eight discs of pictures! To see them you will have to come visit me.
And, we on the trip were firmly cautioned, twice in fact, that our meetings with the several government ministers is “background – you are a group of voracious note takers and we ask you not violate the kindness and trust of these Yemeni officials by using direct quotes as you write about this trip.” This, a direct quote from our leader, Dr. Anthony. I am stymied.
So, to chip away at the edges here:
Pepto-Bismol: I took two little bottles, one for the suitcase, one for the backpack. Vivid is the memory of certain days in the last many years when failure to stock up on this vital item virtually ruined a trip. I well remember a day in Amman, Jordan, a day in Kabul, Afghanistan, a day in Cairo, Egypt, when I would have given a million dollars for two spoonfuls of Pepto-Bismol. Yemen lies in this general area; I remembered my pink stuff. Henry used to shake his head in exasperation, explaining that the basic ingredient is simply drilling mud, with color added to it. No matter - it plugs up oilwells, it works for me. The nice thing is I never had to open a bottle. The Yemeni food was wonderful, especially the salads of fresh tomatoes and cucumbers. I learned to position myself so as to sit by Brandi as often as possible, she who pushed the tomatoes to the edge of her plate – after I finished my salad I blatantly scavenged her leftover tomatoes “so they wouldn’t be wasted.”
Vicci: For those who do not know who she is and how she influenced my going on this trip, let me explain: Vicci and husband and two little boys arrived in Abqaiq in January 1974. Henry and Jary Archer were at the dining hall early one morning after a tennis match, and there was the new family, just off the plane the night before. Easily recognized is that glazed look of the new arrivals – as we all had been there. Conversation ensued, Henry invited them over that night for dinner and a movie – at that time I think we had the only movies in town. They came, the rest is history. Peter would tend those boys during intercession – which is to say I fed them, he drove them around town as he checked on girls, and on to the rec center. Vicci taught at the school for awhile, moved on to other things, and for about two years was Henry’s secretary in Ras Tanura – she followed a long line of drilling secretaries who tended to Henry’s wife! She moved on to greater things, and now runs the website, Aramco ExPats.com, where the Yemen trip was advertised. She called me immediately, as soon as she posted the trip. Since she recommended me, I was “in”, although it was still necessary to apply.
This trip: a Joseph J. Malone Fellowship Study Visit to the Republic of Yemen. It’s mission: “to educate Americans about Arab countries, the Middle East, and the Islamic world through leadership development, people-to-people programs, lectures, publications, and grassroots outreach.” We were a total of fourteen people: Dr. Anthony and Dr. Winship, president and vice – president of the National Council on U.S.-Arab Relations, their program coordinator, and then we eleven who applied. They were university professors of political science with emphasis on the Middle East, most with Ph.D.s, (one had been a Fulbright professor in Jordan), a lawyer, an international insurance person, the NPR Middle East Correspondent based in Cairo, and three Aramcons. Combining the group, don’t believe there would be a country on the planet one of us had not traveled in, or taught in, or studied in, or grew up in. This was a wonderful group of very nice and vastly interesting people. Arab politics was the subject of the trip. I was just hanging onto the fringes of conversation, way out of my league, trying to absorb as much as possible. Not once did we discuss cinnamon rolls!
The two-day mandatory orientation in Washington DC before departure: was heavy, and most interesting. Within the first hour I realized I was going to be in trouble should there be a test. Dr. Anthony gave several fascinating lectures about Yemen from various perspectives; Guest lecturers were the Counselor for Congressional Affairs from the Yemeni Embassy; Dr. Bechtold from the Foreign Service Institute, US Department of State, (he mentioned 27 of his students went on to be ambassadors); Dr. Hudson, Director for Contemporary Arab Studies, Georgetown University; Marjorie Ransom, wife of a former ambassador to Yemen, plus she is career foreign service, retired; and H.E. Hussein Hassouna, the Ambassador of the League of Arab States to the United States.
This two day seminar was “heels and hose, jackets and ties.” Afterward, we quick changed at the Council’s office for the plane. DC to Rome, Rome to Sana’a. Easy. Well, long long flights. The Yemenia flight Rome to Sana’s was like going back in time. Seemed to have more space in economy, actual food served, not once but twice during the 9 ½ hours. Beautiful Middle Eastern flight attendents, and Arabic conversations flowing throughout the plane – with several European languages sprinkled in. It was a homecoming, of sorts.
Security: I had a little private talk with one of our group who was extremely worried about safety and security in Yemen. I mentioned to him my neighbors were so concerned about my going on this trip that at one time I considered bailing out in Rome and traveling Europe while everyone else went on to Yemen. He volunteered to go with me - however, that was just a fleeting thought. We were met in Sana’a by Tourist police, assigned by the government. Five serious young men carrying rifles, one had what looked like a Gatling gun and with a belt of 4 inch bullets draped across his chest. They preceded us in their RV type vehicle, with the back door always open, a gun barrel sticking out, and as we drove through town, or anywhere throughout the country, they kept their lights flashing, the loudspeaker instructing traffic to move aside – we never waited at a stoplight – there would be a forest of brown arms from the windows waving traffic away from us. I thought, well! this is not exactly low key. Should anyone wish to shoot at us, we are now an obvious target. By the second day we grew accustomed to this police escort, but still rather embarrassed about it. Every time we descended from the van, “our guys” would form a semi-circle between us and whoever was walking on the street. They accompanied us every day, all day, and I eventually grew very fond of those young men – it was a teary goodbye twelve days later.
YCMES – we stayed at the guesthouse of the Yemen College for Middle Eastern Studies. A typical old Sana’a house close to the city center, about seven stories high, beautifully restored. Fortunately our room was on the second floor, even then a climb up huge and uneven steps. Some had to climb up to the fifth floor, and on to the seventh floor to the mafraaj – the majilis? in Arabia. Vicci and I each had a bed, a sink, a desk, internet connection usually. The bathroom was three feet square, the shower a faucet about three feet off the floor which could be a spout or a hand held sprinkling shower. There was a drain in the floor directly in front of the toilet. This was fine. Sana’a has no city water system. Trucks deliver water every day and it is pumped to the tanks on top of the houses. Water is dear – they are in a severe drought, plus the aquifer is nearly finished. I felt guilty being there and using their water. Shower time was brief.
Sabri Saleem, the founder and president of the YCMES is a marvel of energy, humor, kindness, intelligence, graciousness. I fell in love with this man, as a pregnant woman does with her doctor. Your whole life situation depends on him. He arranged our schedule, he put on two huge dinners for our group where he did much of the cooking, and washed dishes far into the night - I discovered later. He accompanied us on our many visits to government ministers and interpreted often. His staff of an American from Oregon married to his cousin, a lovely French girl who arrived by way of Egypt, a young man from Minnesota who had studied there three years and is more Yemeni than the Yemenis themselves, plus the gate keepers and kitchen staff, are so kind, so gentle, so gracious. That word gracious keeps coming to mind. Arab hospitality must have generated from Yemen. I learned on this trip that the Yemeni are considered the original Arabs, and that one fourth of the Arabs in the world trace their ancestry to Yemen.
The people: for the most part were gracious, kind, smiling, delighted to see an American defying the US State Department Travel Advisory! Our first foray was a twenty minute walk to Old Sana’a – through the old gate, the Bab el Yemen, and on into the souk, which has been there thousands of years. Our “guys and their guns” accompanied us, which seemed a bit awkward, but they were assigned to watch our every move. Vic and I went back in the evening several times, without the guys and guns, and shopkeepers were so curious: you Italia? Alemania? Hellenia? Espana? Ooooh! Amreeki! Very good, very good! with a thumbs up. This was repeated on our several subsequent trips to the souk. Of course I know they want our money, but still these were very sincere conversations, since they as a nation are most insulted that there is an American travel advisory against Yemen. Other nations do not have one – just us.
Ten. This is stopping time. Next installment I will try to give an impression of the many meetings with government officals – very heady stuff for me.
Bye for now – thank you to those who stay with me and call or write or email or otherwise respond or are just there – love, Bonnie and the Cook Family.