26 May 2008
Hey anybody still with me – this Memorial Day we did not go to the Alma Cemetery - am not ready yet for that. Instead, Allison and Olivia and Hunter and I had a wonderful two-day visit with Tom and Brenda Tirrell in Hot Springs Village. They live in a fabulous house beautifully appointed with treasures from their extensive world-wide travels. What the kids cared about is the lake just steps from the back door, where they found the dock, the boat, the kayaks, the fishing poles. This is Kid Heaven, and adults do very well there as well. The Tirrells are dear people and the Ultimate Hosts. It has been our good fortune to have been in contact with them through the years, and, we were very lucky to be booked into their busy schedule.
For those who do not know Tom and Brenda: they came to Abqaiq, separately, in the mid-1970s, as single teachers. Brenda taught Allison in the 7th grade, Peter worked for Tom during a summer intersession. I always have to have things spelled out for me, i.e., one day while working at the school, Linda Simms asked me if I had noticed the chemistry developing between Tom and Brenda? Well, not exactly, but after that I paid more attention! They were married soon and were a major force for excellence in the Aramco Schools for about twenty-five years.
My most vivid memory of Tom: in the early 1980s the Tirrells and Cooks had been transferred to Ras Tanura, Anne was in the picture by then, and we had the Yamaha grand piano – ordered from Hong Kong – on Steve Shipman’s recommendation after he visited the dealer there. This was the era of “The Cook Cultural Events” – those things just happened at that time in my life. A Japanese pianist, I cannot remember who she is and cannot find the program, played a series of concerts in Dhahran and an Al-Kobar Residence Compound. I heard about her and somehow managed to contact her husband who was also her agent. He agreed that she would come to Ras Tanura and play a concert at our house. I assured him there would be an audience. (These events proved it long before the movie Field of Dreams said it: “Build it and they will come.” Send out the invitations, and usually we had a waiting list! We could get 120 chairs in the atrium, and they were all occupied.) The husband/agent firmly stated that his wife would be presented with a bouquet of roses as she finished the concert. Well, alright then. Little did he know the difficulty of procuring roses in Ras Tanura. Even more difficult, who would present them? Dear Darling Henry was not in the least sympathetic to my dilemma. This was yet another time he informed me that “All your crisis are self-inflicted.” He did agree to help me acquire those roses – he must have had somebody bring them from a shop in Kobar. But, who would present them? Not Henry! He made that abundantly clear. In my desperation, inspiration came from Above! Tom!!!!! I called Brenda and asked her to ask Tom. He was easy with the idea. The concert was a well performed classical music feast. At the final bow, Tom came from the back of the atrium, dressed in white slacks and a navy blue blazer with brass buttons. He strode up to the piano, and with a twinkle in his eye, a broad smile, a flourish and a bow, presented the roses. Perfect.
Moving on to the next subject: to talk a little more of the trip to Yemen. I have hesitated writing about this on Henry’s dedicated site, but it was Tom, just yesterday, who made me understand I need to do this; to write for those who have not had the chance yet to visit there.
Last mentioned: Qat. You can read about qat in any book or article about Yemen, or Google the word qat. There are many opinions and social and cultural studies on this drug that is to Yemen what Apple Pie is to America. Here is my take, since I am an “expert” of a few days observation: Toward the end of the meeting with the American Ambassador, a question was asked about denying US visas to qat chewers – I sat up and tried to understand the issue here. Evidently the USA has started implementing, enforcing, a policy denying visas to drug users. This law was in place long before the current news that Yemeni are being denied visas to enter the US if they have chewed qat three times within the year. That law would eliminate most Yemeni men, and there is now the perception the law is aimed at just Yemen, and a repudiation of their culture. There was some conversation about qat being a real scourge on Yemeni society, and the smuggling of it to other countries. All American embassy personnel are forbidden to attend qat chews.
Qat is a bush, growing about six to eight feet high. The growing regions are mostly around Sana’a; we drove through some areas an hour or two away. Some of the best qat is grown in Wadi Dhahr, about fifteen minutes by car from Sana’a, an absolute gorgeous valley, the lush green of the fields is stunning. I thought, gazing over this tranquil scene of grapes and green, what a great place for a kid to grow up! Little did I realize, the view was qat, and by association, all it represents.
From my reading and conversations while there, I learned: qat takes 60% more water to grow than wheat, and the water is fast disappearing. The rapid depletion of water resources is a major problem. Sixty is a favorite number = qat is now grown on 60% of Yemen’s arable land. The farmers grow qat because they make more money, so each year there is less food grown – and, as they grow qat instead of food, they are blaming the USA for using corn for ethanol and creating the world-wide food crisis. So as to get more crops a year many farmers are using insecticides, which was not the case a few years ago. Usually the qat is not washed before consumption, so now there is an increase of chemically induced health problems.
The qat shops are nearly wall to wall in some villages – the men buy it about eleven am and are chewing by one pm. Chews are usually held in the mafraj, a room in the top of the house with a view of city or garden, with several friends, and lasts for the rest of the day. We see that productivity occurs for only a few hours in the morning, as the major portion of the population is very mellow by mid afternoon and far into the evening. Chewing qat accomplishes little but banal conversation, glazed eyes, and some physical ailments.
A qat chew in the mafraj, on the seventh floor at the guest house where we stayed, was arranged for our group, so as to experience real Yemeni culture. Matthew from Minnesota, the assistant to the president of the college, who has been in Yemen for several years studying, thoroughly enjoys qat chews. He feels it makes him do better in his studies, and that participating in chews is the best way into Yemeni society. Also attending the chew was the minister we had met with that morning, a most charming gentleman. I had been fortunate to sit by him that noon at the Chamber of Commerce luncheon, where he told me enthusiastically that his years studying in the States at the University of Missouri for his Master degree was his Heaven. Never in his life has he been as happy as when he lived in the States.
So, in the middle of the floor Matthew piled branches of qat to a height of about three feet. One chews the leaves and stems, masticates it, pushes it into one cheek, and starts on more. Eventually the cheek is bulging out about 4 to 6 inches – tobacco chewers are novices to qat chewers. It takes a lot of liquid to maintain the gat all those hours. Most of our group were curious and good-naturedly participated in this local custom. Some lasted a few minutes, some an hour or so. Vicci and I went to watch – we stayed about five minutes, to take pictures and see the qat up close and personal. It is just green leaves on branches - quite silky and lovely – and to me, sickening, when one appreciates the personal and national consequences.
On our evening forays into the souq we walked by hundreds and hundreds of men, sitting cross legged on the cement, their backs up against the wall, clustered in groups, companionably chewing by lantern light. Knowing that chews last four to six to eight hours, I thought, well! You are not exactly at home reading bedtime stories to your kids. When is family time? One day at the souk, a man stopped me, and after the usual question of “You Amreeki? Good!” he held up some branches of qat and said, “You know what this is? Qat!! Yemeni whiskey!” (I am not making this up, as Dave Barry so often writes.)
In the Sana’a region, as we drove to our various sites and meetings, each day in the late morning, we would stop while our soldiers bought qat. The college paid for it. Our guys chewed all afternoon, their cheeks distended dramatically - really a most comical sight. We stopped in a village one day, our guys were going from shop to shop picking out the best gat, and we could see from the van window a gat stall where the shopkeeper was fast asleep on a pallet - passed out? – maybe he was sick - a little boy of about five or six was doing the selling.
A week later we were on the far eastern side of Yemen, in the Hadhramawt. The culture is different – somewhat as New Orleans is different from Boston. Qat is not grown in this area, I saw no qat chewing, and saw one poster on a wall in English and Arabic: “Stop qat!” I could hardly believe it. We learned that qat is only good for about two days, then it deteriorates considerably – (could liken it to manna in the Old Testament – which spoiled if the Israelites stored it – would this analogy really hold up?) I heard there is a brisk black market smuggling qat to neighboring Gulf states – it is harvested in the afternoon in the Sana’a region, and appears in the markets the next morning in Oman, and other adjacent countries.
Qat. Wasted water, wasted land, wasted life. Not everybody agrees – however, Yemen can not overcome their desperate poverty and still maintain qat chews as a national custom. They simply cannot have it both ways.
On the other hand! I had a long talk one lovely afternoon with a twenty-seven year old young man, his goals and drive and ambition most impressive. He lives in the village of Manakha. He dances and sings for tourists at night; we were there the night before watching him and his troupe. What music, what energy, what delight. He organizes treks through the mountains for tourists by day, he is literate – he can read and write and has a website – he does not chew qat. He told me qat is a waste of time and money, and he is saving his resources for the bride price – 600,000 riyals, needed for the impending August wedding. Which reminded me - one of the bus drivers for the college was spending nearly all his salary on qat. Since the president of the college switched to paying him in food commodities instead of money, his thin children are now gaining weight.
Aside: about the wedding. Mohammed has not met nor even laid eyes on the girl of his dreams. His mother and sisters have surveyed the eligible field of young ladies, have picked what they assured him is the loveliest and most charming of all the girls in the village. She is in school!!! This a major plus. He is very excited and anxious and looking forward to marrying the lovely thing his mother picked out for him – total trust that mom knows best.
Bye for now – thank you to all those who have written and called over this holiday –
much love, Bonnie and the Cook Family