Jordan seems bent on proving to us that crossing a border can be a joy. We are met with not one, but two bands, and the whole area of customs and passport control is shut down for a party for us. I’m not sure what happens – perhaps because of general exhaustion, or relief after hours on buses – but we all erupt into dancing and singing and laughing, for hours. Sometimes the bands compete with each other and so one has to go outside, taking many women with them, but then we come together again for dibke, the widespread traditional Arabic communal dancing, performed in a endless chain.
The food comes out after an hour or so, and we settle down outside to eat, and talk to our new Jordanian supporters (again, mostly men, although at least here the co-ordinaters are women and definitely working within the spirit of FtW that I would like to see more of).
Again, not entirely reality, but more joyful than anything so far. Welcome to Jordan…
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment