20 Years 20 Countries

Blog Moved

2009-09-16T03:48:00.003+08:00

Please do visit the new site www.20years20countries.com better design, graphics, and sharing tools.

See you there!

Jamal

The Journey Just Started

2009-03-17T22:16:00.005+08:00

From one place to another, moving all the time, even when we thought we settled we were on for a surprise, at least I was. It went on for a long while and we enjoyed every minute of it. During all this time while travelling with the family living abroad in different countries that had different languages and most of which were not similar to the rest, which made the experience extremely rich, and very culturally vibrant.

Morocco, Somalia, Czech, Syria to start with had absolutely nothing in common as far as I am concerned as a young child. After which I started my personal journey few years later.

My journey thankfully didn't start again until I was 17 and got to finally know Yemen. I went to attend and finish high school there, got to know all my relatives whom I keep mixing their names and made some good friends. This I have trouble until today especially for those who live back in Hamden, our small village.

After which I started a weird unorganized journey that only God knows where it will end. Thinking back I think I enjoyed that part the most, not knowing what the hell was going on in my life, just going with the wind, and finding out more about the world, and learning the hard way, I later came to know.

From Sana'a I took off to Iraq spent a year, which was difficult to describe, it was like being in a melodramatic soap opera which lasted for a year! It was brilliant but still like a drama comedy kind of thing.

Afterwards I joined my high school friends, Abdu Taher was one of them, he met me when I went to Utah for the first time, received me at the Salt Lake city international airport and I stayed in apartment with the rest of the brothers and cousins for a while. Abdu is the boldest guy you will ever meet in your live, he is just funny to look at, and the minute he speaks you’d start laughing no matter what he said, his nick was cool Abdul. Just funny, miss you Abdu. ;)

We had a great time in BYU a Mormon Church supported institution. Abdu knew what ticked them he was the president of the Muslims Students Association. They would hold an event to promote Mormonism, and would go in to call them to Islam especially their so called fathers and the pretty Mormon girls. Now all his friends including me knew he wasn't that religious, but he simply liked to tick people off.

I guess they find out we were friends when I went to renew my visa from the American consulate in Yemen back in 1998. After which I thought my friendship with Abdu was more important than my relations and future BYU and the idiotic yet beautiful Mormon state, so I migrated to India. Just like birds, I kept travelling. Poor father, I think he developed BP and diabetes just hearing my news.

Today any trip I take, seminar, conference, study, or just travelling around I usually find a friend there, if I can work out the memory I usually find a friend if not more! That’s something!

And when I fail to do so, I just make new ones.

First Grade Hot in Politics "Czech – Prague 1981-1983"

2009-02-12T02:14:00.005+08:00

I remember the first day of school, all the kids in the first grade were nicely dressed, class was small, and neat, there even was a sink near the door, I had no idea why would someone need a sink in a classroom!

My father talked to Ms. Laila he said good-bye at the door, teacher Laila took my hand, stepped in and introduce me to class. I was a very shy kid. Most of the kids were from Iraq.

She said Jamal is your new classmate and he is from Yemen. She sat me down, and told us to behave as she was going somewhere for a minute or two.

I remembered clearly the kids gathered around me a chubby one who started a short debate about who I liked more the Syrian president Hafiz Al-Assad or the Iraqi president Saddam Hossein?

I wasn't stupid and at the same the I wasn't going to let these kids think just because I am going to an Iraqi school I had to like their president! Hell, I didn't care about any of them, just I confidently looked at my note book that was printed in Syria and in the front page had a picture of Hafiz Al-Assad and said "I like Hafiz Al-Assad". As I thought back then and assumed, they all were not in politics, so I assumed my own independent political identity, and boy was I wrong to do that!

All of sudden I see guys in the back whispering to each other, the guy next to me started passing it to the next... and I didn't.

All of a sudden they all got up, circled me , came close, left me up, I was outnumbered. I fought, I tried as I could, but they were too many, they started walking towards the door. Then while moving and kicking, I saw one of the kids rush to the sink and open the water. That second I was few feet from the sink. The corridor watcher yelled "she is coming"... snap, I see myself on the air, all the hands below were rushing to their seats... and "Bang" on the floor. I found myself alone down on the floor, I just gathered up and walked to my chair before she could see anything. I didn't say anything, didn't shed any tears, and walked back strong, but totally crushed inside.

I remembered early that day, I had new school clothes, hair combed, and definitely clean. My mother would make sure we were always clean. In the next few weeks I found it they were just mean kids, and thought they were superior. Samir would play the hero most of the time coming with his friend from 3rd grade to break a fight between these guys and myself, well it was more like three of four guys chasing me around.

Our parents gave us lots of freedom at an early age, which we enjoyed. We used to run to the park play around, the park had rock statues of different shapes, male, a female and some hollow shaped that allowed us to walk through and around them. We'd go inside one and climb on top of the other.

Half way to the super market somewhere near the park we used to play at if my memory serves me correctly was the location of a wonderful old huge cherry tree. When the season comes it would have lots of full of flavour cherries, me Samir and friends would claim up, pick and eat whatever we could get our hands on.

My father has a sense of exploration he was an adventurous person, on the weekends sometimes he would take us to nearby country, and on other occasions he would take us on long drives to explore inside the Czech Republic. I remember visiting gardens full of beautiful roses of almost all colors it was as good as a painting. We stayed once on this sky resort on top of a high hill shaped like a cone, isolated on the hilltop and everything around it was white. Snow was the only thing that you could see, and we sure enjoy that. He loved the road, meeting people, and discovering new places.

He taught us to explore, discover, and now I want to go on and travel back on time to all these places we've been. Prague in particular I have vivid images of and I like to revisit it and update my pictures, and enjoy it as a traveller. I remember the large playground, our apartment was on a high floor 12^th or so. Akram was so young he would stay home with mother barely able to walk go to the balcony where we kept few boxes of food, drinks, and vegetables and throw whatever he could catch and lift all the way down to people peacefully walking by. One time the police came to our apartment after someone complained that a bottle full of something fell from the sky that has barely missed him. Akram was so naughty he would kick his head against the wall if his wish was not granted and would always fight for a bottomless parade around the house. He was about 1-3 years old at the time and I am six year older than him. Me and Samir had our own bicycles which we drove sometimes a little too far. Once we passed the road behind the neighbourhood and went to the woods, drove the bicycles all the way downhill amid all the large trees. It was lots of fun, except for one little misadventure on the way back. Samir and couple of our friends rushed to cross the road and they did. I saw a speeding car coming and could not speed up and neither could I stop. The guy had to slam his brakes and stopped few inches just short of me and my little bicycle, boy was he furious! He kept shouting, parked his car on the side, held my hand and I understood that he wanted to escort me to my parents and tell them that I have nearly killed myself if it wasn't for his brakes. Samir and gang convinced me to break free and run the minute he had a lose grip of me, and I did.

One thing I recall which was not fun at all, lots of people gathered down the compound playground, were screaming and yelling, we were too young to understand, but when we were told to stay home it was clearly a protest against foreigner and Arab in the neighbourhood. Looking back at it, one or two of them could have been victims to Akram throwing practice, and one guy could be the driver of the car that slammed its break to save my life, but I don't get the other one hundred or so!

We would walk home from school it was a short walk which we enjoyed, mostly for the ice cream we got to buy from ice cream guy on the way back.

It was Prague where I first learned how to swim "Tahniti A Dopsheeteh A Tahneetee" many years later the same moves I learned practicing on the side of the swimming pool I got a gold medal for in a national championship in Yemen. Not that there were many professional swimmers in Yemen, it was more the "Tahniti A Dopsheeteh A Tahneetee" and the swimming I always practiced. Now I am teaching the same to Ruba my 4 year old daughter.

It was an indoor sports complex, had an Olympic size swimming pool, the instructor had us lined up the minute we arrived, then we would practice and rehearse all the moves we learned each day before getting into the pool. I remember the incredible smell that filled the way out, it came from the cafeteria. It was yummy sandwiches father would always buy, which were tasty after a good swim and in the cold snowy weather outside were even more enjoyable.

We attended an Iraqi school this time, we were surprised to be enrolled for free, receive scout uniform for free, all stationary and even school uniform. The only thing we had to pay for, was our meals. This was before the war with Iran took place, things started to change after that, we felt it in the next seven years journey in Morocco.

At other occasions father would take us to night performancse by local artists, cartoons ice skating characters, and musical nights. he certainly was no typical Arab father, he raised us to understand, respect, and appreciate.

A pleasant two and a half years went by so fast.

Somalia 1983

2008-12-28T00:32:00.000+08:00

Speeding on the Somalian desert somewhere near the capital magdesho, a pickup truck, a four-wheel drive and a sedan making dust go few meters high in the road behind them. And a large group of dears running wild in front of the three cards. This is not the ideal to have fun, but in 1983 in Somalia there was really nothing much to do for fun. This is part of the video I saw last year, my father and his friends would go hunting for dears bring one back home usually. We enjoy the meals, even though me and my brothers were more interested in having dears in our backyards not our dining table.

I remember one time father was taking a trip somewhere down the coast of Somalia and he took me with him. It was the first time that I went with father just the two of us. Usually it would be the whole family me and my brothers would be fighting, screaming in the back of 1982 Mercedes 230. The car was reasonable spacious, but with six of us in the back everyone having his arm or leg up somewhere where it didn’t belong the car felt like a sardine can.

My serial sequence among my brothers and sisters is 4 so there are three born before me and two after. I was sort of lost, not enough power to abuse the little ones, and not small and young enough to be spoiled by the big ones. But this time, when father asked me to take this trip with him, I felt completely different!

We stayed in a small shack just few meters from the beach, that time I was in third grade. My hair was a bit long and I was an average skinny guy, for the sweets I gulped after each meal, my mother was happy I was not obese at the age of eight.

At night I would wake up from the sounds these little lizards. I remember waking up, opening my eyes and seeing one the spot over my head. I hated them.

We went for a swim in the morning, when we took a little break, I remember a local guy was passing through he had a donkey pulling a carriage behind him. He stopped by and father asked if I wanted to take a picture on the back of the donkey.

I felt like a super hero, father helped me to the back of the donkey and I posed with my arms up and bent forward, just like a guy showing off his muscles. We still have the picture back home somewhere in fathers’ room amid the thousands other pictures and papers he keeps on a pile inside one of his cabinets in his bedroom. I will try to upload them when I am back home, along with other pictures from the other trips we made.

No other kids were on this trip, fathers’ friends came alone. This trip did justice to me, I was spoiled, and I was the star of the show during the whole trip.

At school things were different as well, I remember there were not many students, school was small and we all knew each other after few weeks.

Third grade had about six students in the beginning of the year, and after few weeks some had to leave since their fathers were diplomats and had to be relocated. I stayed and so did another kid. Later we become best friends. It was just the two of us.

We had a pretty teacher, she would give us sweets and little toys when we do our homework, and she would let me choose first since the toys and sweets were different, and since I was the smarter one in the class. I remember once I got the Coca-Cola truck. I was excited for a whole week.

I came first, and my friend came second, we both were happy.

It has been eight months since we arrived, school year have ended. By that time father would have asked for relocation already. We have had all the mango we could eat, and visited most of the banana farms we could visit, and there was not much stuff to do in Somalia. In less than two years the country would become a horrible war zone for Farrah Aydeed and his opposition. Thousands of people would be killed and murdered in day light for a loaf of bread or a less important reason.

We got relocated, this time were going to Morocco!

Syria 1979-1981

2008-12-25T01:41:00.001+08:00

A mother with five kids, youngest is less than a year old girl, and the oldest is less than 10 a girl also. At one time she thought she might never see the father of these five children again.

I was too young to remember anything, but I do recall relatives saying that we all were saved. At one time when the army people came to our hometown, which was a small village with less than 1000 population at that time. Jarban is 20 minutes from the capital Sana’a, we were taken and hidden in an animal shelter so we would not be found and taken away.

Later on 1979 my mother would make a trip from Sana’a to Damascus with all five of us, and father to greet us at the airport. Arkam would be born a year later on 28th April.

He had made few recording, I remember listening to a tape recorder he made when he was alone in Syria, he would address us each by name, and talk to us like we were there.

We stayed in a building where few famous Syrian TV stars lived, name of the building laterally meant "Artists building". We’d run into some of them in the lift, like Abu Sayah, Yaseno, and others.

We made friends with this rising female artists “Asala Nasri” who now is a famous Arabic Singer and artist, I doubt she remember us!

My memories of Syria are much left with few stories:

1. -Going out of the bathroom not wearing a slipper, slipping and falling back and having a bad cut in my head. Father says the rest of the story, he rushed me to hospital with small blanket covering my head, where they stitched my head wound without anaesthesia. He says I kept screaming and begging him to make them stop. He couldn’t, and sooner the nurses and doctor would attend to my father who fell to the ground short of breath unconscious.I think we both received good medical treatment.

2. -I remember having this friend who was a girl at pre-school, the thing about it is, she had 6 fingers in one of her hands. My friends and brother would tease me about it. I vaguely remember walking around the school together each having own lollypop.

3. -In our way back from school we (Me & Samir) would stop at the way to get some sweets from a guy withbunch of Syrian sweets on a carry on wheel.

4. -Going out with father in our white and brown sport car. Have it fit all of us in, and drive to a top mountain called “Gasyon” picture on the left. Where we get a full view of beautiful Damascus. The part I truly recall is this:

- Drinking that hot sweet drink, I think it was chocolate milk.

- Getting out of the car and walking on snow. Untill Today Gasyon I hear is a favorit place for locals and visitors alike, they get up there, have a drink, and enjoy the view and cold fresh breeze.

Going to Iraq July 1995-Aug 1996

2008-12-24T20:01:00.001+08:00

I still remember like it was yesterday, I hired a cab from the Jordon Iraq taxi station for 25 Jordanian Dinars. I took the back seat all to myself, put my headphone on and listened to Kenney G almost all the way... I left in the early afternoon hours of the day and we arrived to the borders about midnight. Kenny G was the only company I had. It was late July 1994 and Iraq was under siege at that time. I took the Yemenia flight that departed from Aden early morning, I think it was about 7:00 AM. Father came to see me off, he knew I didn’t want to go, and I knew I had to.

The economy was terrible, fathers’ mood was horrible and after few months of studying English in YALI English Institute in Sana’a I found myself in Iraq studying first year Business Administration.

I really wondered, was it the best place for such studies? Of course as the case, with most educated Arabic fathers of his generation, they want their children to be doctors, and if that was impossible, they second option would be an engineer. What engineer? It didn’t matter, the name and certificate was more important, perhaps to gain social status and guarantee a good job after graduation. Well, for me it was business from day one, but I did try to please him, so applied to both medical and engineering schools and Thank God I was not accepted. Not that I was less smarter than those kids, but luckily I arrived late in Baghdad and the only school that admitted me was Baghdad University Business School.

That was the good part of my journey to Iraq. At that time I had less moderate political views, and I was not excited about donating to Saddam’s Birthday party at the business college but I did. Looking back, Iraq was way better off with his iron fist ruling than the American saviors who are happy to see the new pipeline outlay at any cost.

The taxi arrived to the station early morning, it was about 4:00 am. I asked the taxi to drop me in A'athamiah a part of town where my contact stayed. I didn't know him, and he was a student there somewhere. I walked to a the building on the corner as the address said, went to the apartment up nocked the door, but no one answered.

I went down with my two large bags, put them in front of the resturant at the corner of the street and sat there in the dark for sometime. After a while the owner came opend up it was stil learly morning about 5 something , and I asked if I can come in with my bags, he said yes.

He laid his rug in the middle of the resturant, and started praying, and at the end I saw him pray in a strange way I never saw before, it freaked me out, but I remembered then that there were lots of Shea'a Muslims in Iraq.

I order breakfest, few minutes I has fried eggs and a cup of tea with lots of suger. by that time the sun did rise, and I was still alone in the place. Shortly after I finished my breakfest a young guy with military uniform stepped in came sat next to me. He had lots of questions, and he did ask how much money did I have. All of a sudden I had a proposal and he wanted to save me some money and put me in a five star hotel on his account and I was to give him few hundred dollars or so. He was presistant and gave me no chance to argue, he just asked me to stay put till he get his car.

I was scared, no one knew where I was, and this guy looked like lots of trouble. the minute he stepped out, I paid the bill and rushed looking a cab, I got one and took off. I looked back and saw a car pull of infront of the resturant. I went to a famous budget hotel and stayed there for the next four weeks.

I was very familiar with the culture. I spent most of my school education in Iraqi schools abroad from 1^st-2^nd grade, and 4^th to 10^th grade first in Prague, than later on in Rabat. I knew how to deal with them, and avoid trouble whenever possible. I was familiar with the education system, and knew how much power the teacher or lecturer had. Enough to decide you fail or pass before you take your exams.

People were having very tough times, salaried were virtually worthless papers, most people lived on savings or on government support. It was just sad. I remember having these small chats with the barbers in Karadah, and young shoe shiners who told me about their parents taking them for vacations in UK, Europe, and elsewhere before the Gulf war.

Sometimes it was no fun to go out and eat in public.

I lived in a place between “Karadah Dakhel” and Karadah Kharej” it was a nice neighbourhood, except for the fact that one of our nice neighbours almost ran over me and two of my friends with his bus, and he was too upset to apologize.

People were miserable, no foreign goods were allowed into the country, including canned food, drinks. We “me and fellow Yemeni students” had the luxury of affording smuggled Pepsi cans, and spread cheese, along with some branded chocolates once a week or so.

Prostitution in Baghdad was like selling CD’s in china town here in Malaysia.

Some Yemenis were so happy sending their kids to Iraq saying “ohh they live like kings there,... it’s a wonderful place to study and to live in”

We Yemeni’s are very simple people, we judge by what we see, and by what we don’t see sometimes. I tried to deal with life there as much as I could it was like a prison sentence for me. I enrolled in a nearby gym, the instructor made me eat chocolates every day, along with some sweets they sold at the gym, it was part of the deit program. Gym was little place on a second floor building on the same area Karadah. It no shock that I started gaining weight.

Another memorable day was when I left Baghdad after I finished and passed my first year exams around mid August 1995 and was going to see my family and confront my father. The journey to Jordon was no less pain. They woke us up in the middle of the night, searching our belongings throwing things on the floor. After about two hours of cold weather, cold treatment from the Iraqi immigration guards I was allowed to leave. They took all my cassettes, Kenny G and others. I had a very nice 80’s music collection. I learned lots of English through music, I used to listen, write, and translate the songs. I had few letter from friends and family they took them all.

I was just happy to get out in one piece.

Bad times were about to end, and the next chapter which comes in about few weeks time, I would find myself flying to Portland Oregon, the USA.

I didn’t know what was in store for me, but Samir did!

Yemen My Village Country 1991-1994

2008-12-23T22:58:00.000+08:00

Amidst the summer heat, going out of the Yemeni airplane we took the stairs down to where the bus was waiting in Sana'a International airport. Unlike Morocco or other countries we've been to, there was no corridor to take us from the airplane directly to the airport. It was definitely a step back in time. Airport personnel were wearing serious faces shouting at each other for unknown reasons.

Later it turned out to be the way people communicate in my beloved Yemen. Two people standing next to each other would have their conversion heard half a mile away. And normally they would be holding hands it is a sign of brotherhood in any Arab country.

Half of our family, relatives, and fathers’ friends were at the

airport, so many cars.

After about 14 years spent traveling from Syria, Czeck, Somalia to later on Morocco it was time to return, not that my family didn’t want to return earlier, but the call back came to father after 14 years. The reason being father “Nassar Ali Hossein Al-Jarbani” was involved in some political work that didn't appeal to the givernment. Let's just say he was very ambitous. That’s the short version of the story for being 14 years in exile.

It started for my father was he was about 16, he and some of his friends were chosen by the government through a collaboration program with the Egyptian government. The program was to educate the shaikhs' sons who had no access to higher education back then. And since my grand father was a Shaikh, father was selected and sent to study in Egypt. Later on in Morocco he would do his Masters' in Political science. That time he was working in the embassy of Yemen in Rabat.

The long version of the story father would tell you if you meet him. He lives in Jarban our home town, he has build himself a nice 3 story building which he last told me on the phone is still unfurnished but for two rooms. Seems he put the last of his savings on this house. Last I saw the house, was about a year ago, and it was one story house and yet to be painted and windows to be fixed.

He was and still is a patriot and a nationalist, he held few positions with the government since he returned, and one of them was a governor. I remembered during my final high school year, we had people in and out of the house by the tens and sometimes by the hundreds that’s when he participated for the Parliament elections in 1992/1993. Some of his supporters were bought out by the govt. He lost the election, but he never lost the spirit.

I passed high school in 1993 and was suppose to follow Samir, who is by that time a sophomore in Portland State University doing his Computer science undergraduate course.

Morocco1984-1991 "Summer 1991 Going Home"

2008-12-23T20:27:00.000+08:00

We didn't know whether to be happy get upset or feel anything at all when we got the news that we are going back home in less than 6 months. After seven long years in Morocco where we grew up, made lots of friends who kept leaving, just when others were coming.

I certainly knew will miss my friends, school, all the great places in Rabat, and all the beautiful places we been around Morocco from the sun beach beautiful Al-Hoceima with that great beach front to Snowy Ifran where we went to ski and played with the snow! Agader, Tanja, Tatwan, Marakash, Fass, Meknass, all these trips and time we spent around the country was playing like a tape in the back of my head.

A small country with such great diversity in geography, languages, people, weather,... it was "Prettyful" as Ruba would call it.

I was about 15 years old at that time, just made friends with this cute girl in the building next to ours, and life was nothing short of beautiful. I was getting my 100 Dirhams monthly allowance from my father, when we had summer vacations he would literally kick us out of the house and ask us to go out and just explore the city or go do some sports.

He did get us "me & Samir" enrol us in Karate school, and a nearby sports club where I and my brothers learned how to swim, it was just great. Except for the fact that he had to kick my butt out of the house everyday about 4:30pm when it was time for our Karate session, I just thought it wasn't my thing... kicking, getting bruises every week, and smelling the stink of other players in that underground room with little ventilation. Looking back at it now, it makes me laugh.

How much me & Samir enjoyed that cold bottled juice after a sweaty exercise, oh boy!

We couldn’t afford it every time, we’d only have it like once a week or so. And most of the time I would be broke and Samir being 2 years older than me, he would have some money saved “about few Dirhams” and would buy us both that nice drink, which I recall came in one flavour, which was my favourite, Pineapple!

Summer time, we would go almost every day to that sports club with our tennis rackets, shorts, and swimming gear for a whole day! And sometimes we would invite friends who were not members, and have a fantabouls time! :)

I even had a tennis coach who told me I was a natural talent,… I don’t know why I never believed him neither did Samir who was not a natural born talent.

We’d wake up around 8:00 AM pack a light breakfast and some cold slice of martadela beef with spread cheese along with cold drinks! Hmm

We’d play tennis all morning till we are tired and had enough sun, and by the time we felt like complete zombies, we’d take a shower and jump in the pool.

Akram was too young to play tennis by then, but he started swimming quite early, and he was good. I remember the first time the swimming trainer through him in the water and just force him to swim that 25 meters at one go.. he finished with tears on his eyes, so exhausted, panicked, tired, and terrified from the trainer. The trainer asked me not to interfere or try to save him

Imagine seven long years, gone by so fast…. And now we are going back to Yemen! We are yet to find out what is it to live there, we been there before for brief visits, and before that, for me I was too young to remember. I recall the kids in the neighborhood every time I went to the shop to buy something they would make fun of my accent. By that time we have been away for over 12 years and have lived in Damascus-Syria for two years, Prague - Czech Republic for another two years, Somalia- for less than a year, and Morocco for seven years. My accent by that time was this strange mixed of all of various accents with heavy Moroccan and Syrian accent waves. Well, it had advantages and disadvantages. Once I was interrogated for a little over an hour and a half in the immigration office when the officer thought I was a foreigner trying to get a Yemeni Passport! That’s definitely not an advantage.

The whole time I kept thinking who would want to come and risk his life for a Yemeni passport? And what would he gain? Too bad the officer didn’t get the cash reward he was looking for! I admit I was very patient and a little naïve too. Anyhow the interrogation ended when the smart officer told his supervisor the complicated story of this young Arabic foreigner who is trying to get a Yemeni passport. The officer supervisor who recognized my name “Jamal Nassar Ali Hussein” had apparently known my father. So he smiled, apologized to me and asked the guy to help me renew my passport sort of a way to make up for my time that he wasted.