DAY 13
    Hajjarah - Sana'a


    Hajjarah

The view from the top.

The hajjarah (rock) as the foundation of the rock-built houses

Desert bloom, looking out the other side of the village.

Ali and I.

I fell in love with a young boy of eleven named Ali. He had beautiful reddish brown skin, and greenish blue eyes. He was short, with a long narrow face. I liked him right away. It was raining when we arrived in his village and you couldn't see the valleys below from the mist. He led me to a lookout point where I could barely make out the mountains through the mist. Then he took me to his cousin's wedding party, well under way on its second day. I walked in to the room with my foreign clothes, the only one with socks. The women were dancing and singing, smoking their mada'a and taking pictures of the bride dressed up in her wedding gown and masked in hordes of disgusting makeup. When I left, Ali was waiting for me outside. I promised him I would see him in the morning before I left this small town high above all others.  When I woke up and wandered out into the unpaved streets, I was happy to see him again. He told me about his sickness and his failed kidney operation back in Sana'a. He was trying to get a ride back into the city with his uncle but it didn't work out. I offered to help instead. I was utterly joyful when his father and our driver agreed to have Ali join us on our drive down to Sana'a. He sat next to me in the back of the 4WD, he was car sick the whole way there. He fell asleep on my lap, and I did not want to let him go……

There is this picture now of Ali on my desk. I wish I could reach out and touch him, hold him, have him fall asleep on my lap again. I don't know what it is about that kid that got to me. It's the first time a stranger (of any age) has such a strong hold on my heart. I look at that picture of him and find it captures his look perfectly. His innocent little face, those captivating eyes, white teeth. I want to cry thinking of him. I wanted to take him under my wing... All from knowing the kid for a few hours. That connection - knowing that I will remember Ali for the rest of my life; the fact that we got along instantly. I had been approached by countless kids while in Yemen and every time I'd be annoyed; with Ali, it was the first time that I longed for his company. I hoped that he'd be waiting for me when I came out the women's party, I hoped he'd be there when I got out of the hotel in the morning. And he was. And he didn't speak much to my cousin, only to me. Perhaps he was 17 years younger than me, but I felt connected to him; like in some other dimension him and I were soulmates. That connection - that's what it is about life that makes it seem to grand, so holy... Those are the moments when I feel overwhelmed with emotion. So I look at his picture now, this boy that I feel incredible incomprehensible love for, and I want to cry. 


Woke up late. Around 8 am. Went for a small walk around town with Ali – the kid from last night.

We're now giving him a ride to Sana'a: I've taken a tremendous liking to him; I wish I could help out. Apparently he's sick, he's already had one operation but it didn't cure him. He's got, I think, kidney problems – kilba in Arabic. He's a cute kid, eleven, speaks a bit of English and French, has good business sense, I find him lovable. He's got those greenish eyes and dark skin that's reddish brown. A long face, full lips. He's car sick right now. I don't blame him with all the swerves and hills we've been going through. He quietly sits there and rests on my lap. He suddenly looked up at me and asked me if we could stop the car.

Came back to Sana'a rather early, as Hamid was driving like a madman, seeming still upset with me. We had to drop off Ali and his dad at the spur of the moment so I couldn't say goodbye the way I intended; a hug, a word, something... As quickly as he appeared in my life, Hamid had decided he'd make him dissapear just as quickly. I don't know if Aida understood why I cared so much that we give him a ride, but she didn't seem to mind.

So the Hamid trip was over, of course with a share of "problems." First Hamid had it that I insulted him yesterday thinking I made compliments to Khaled by suggesting that the flowers smell nice and in so doing insulted Hamid. So we had to clear that out, he just had to take my word that I did not call him "a wilted flower" behind his back. I don't know how a compliment directed at a bunch of flowers turned into an insult I had supposedly said to Khaled about Hamid. I gave him my word that I had done no such thing, Aida gave her word, and he eventually accepted our apologies. When we finally arrived, the tour office had a tent missing and wanted to put the blame on us. They came to Abdo's camp twice to chat with us, we went to town once to clear things out, messages were left, notes were written, all about two tents that Aida and I never used, much less saw. Then Hamid called and spoke to Abdo, apparently the office might give Hamid some hard times (as we discover months later when we send Hamid some photos, he no longer worked there- not to say that there is a connection). But it was a chaotic and frustrating end to our trip, more of the administrative, bureaucratic, macho behavior that I so detest!


Posing with Hamid, our driver for four days.

    Sana'a

We went to Old Sana'a with "Nabilmoo" to the souks and bought some more stuff. Mainly some gifts for our friends, but I didn't have as big of a list as Aida... Unlike her, I had a much longer trip with many stops to take, and I didn't want to deal with extra baggage. She already had a trunk to take home, so she could shove stuff inside it. Then we visited some friends' of Abdo and went to the Maghbazah for our last fish meal. So incredibly yummy. I love the shattah (spicy sauce).

We're listening to a tape being dubbed at high speed and the rain is hitting the trailer hard. It's quite a trip. I'm dying for a gin-tonic or a bloody-mary...




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