The Further Annals of Mistranslation
In Arabic, it says “sharqiyat batman;” I assume that the latter word is someone’s name, while “sharqiyat” means the sort of antique-looking “eastern” trinkets that a lot of tourist-oriented shops sell. In this shop owner’s translation, however, he became…Oriental Batman!
The End of a year in CASA
CASA ended last week. We had a party and somebody brought a cake with our photo on it:
We lit the candles and everyone decided it would be ironic and funny if we celebrated our lack of American nationalism and Amerian funding by singing patriotic songs, most of which I barely knew the words to. It was neat repeat of one of the more awkward moments of my birthday party, in which the Americans found the irony of singing the national anthem quite hilarious, while the Europeans and Syrians didn’t find it remotely amusing but tried to be excessively polite about it anyhow.
One of our teachers asked us to go around the room and report moments that we’d never forget from the past year. I said I’d always remember M going up to the bored employee puffing coolly on a cigarette at the Department of Passports and Immigration, then shouting in his face, “Smoking is prohibited!” R said she’d never forget how good I was at acting like a prostitute, as my entire class discovered when we staged an inpromptu rendition of Sa’dallah Wannous’s “A Day From Our Time” and my portrayal of the pimp/whore was said to be especially convincing.
Joking aside, it’s hard to express how grateful I am to have had this chance to study in Damascus, in this program in particular. While each semester presented its own challenges, I couldn’t have asked for more dedicated teachers, or more wonderful and thought-provoking classmates, from whom I learned just as much as I did from any professor or text. Additionally, I couldn’t have asked for more enjoyable or complicated city to spend a year in. The continuation of CASA as a program in Damascus has recently been called into question for reasons of internal politics and minute power struggles, but I’m happy to report that it’ll be held for at least another year so that a new group of Casawiin can enjoy the same chances that my friends and I have; hopefully, it’ll continue for many more to come.
Lost in Translation #88899735
At a party last night: two Syrian men in their twenties address an American friend and I as they prepare to leave:
Syrian 1: Did you know my friend is a necrovillist?
Syrian 2: Giggles.
American friend: What’s a necrovillist?
Me: Yeah, what are you talking about?
Syrian 1: A necrovillist! A necrovillist!
Syrian 2: Giggles.
Syrian friend, Y, sitting nearby: You don’t know necrovillist?!! It is an English word.
Americans: Um…no.
Y: You know, one who does love with graves? (Peals of laughter)
American friend: Oh…a necrophiliac.
Me: Your friend is a necrophiliac. Great.
The two Syrians, seeing that their joke has fallen flat, exit the scene.
It’s great that people learn the really important words in English first…
A lot of driving and a little sight-seeing
This weekend fourteen of us from CASA filled a rented microbus and visited the tomb of former president Hafez al-Asad in his home village of Qurdaha, which lies on the coast of Syria about four and a half hours from Damascus.
All the guards wore a suit and tie, and one offered guests bitter coffee in white china cups. They watched us closely, and a clump of them followed our group where ever we wandered. Unfortunately, photography was prohibited inside the tomb, which seemed large and empty since they were in the middle of renovations and had knocked down what had reportedly been walls dividing the cavernous space into separate rooms. All it contained currently was a scaffolding in addition to the graves of Hafez and his son, Basil.
Afterwards, we drove a little bit more and stopped to drink tea next to a stream before taking the long drive back to Damascus.
67% of all statistics are made up on the spot, and 90% of politics consists of symbolically doing nothing
Thank goodness the Syrian government has taken such decisive action against the threat of swine flu, preventing incoming travelers from carrying any meat products with them into tthe country.
According to the same article, Director of Animal Health Ziyad Namour stressed “that the national emergency plan connected to birds’ flu stipulates for formation of main and sub technical committees and teams for urgent interference.” Great! More committees! No issue is too important not to be added to the largess of the bureaucratic machine!
Mr. Namour also “asserted that there is not any licensed farm of breeding pigs in Syria.” Since it seems to be general knowledge that some Christians do raise pigs here, I can only deduce that their farms are unlicensed.
