The best post yet.

It’s been over a week since my last post. Interesting experiences have come my way…some more relevant than others…and a few seemingly life changing.

            Such a long period of time has elapsed since my last post because I want to make sure that the picture I paint on this web page is an accurate personification of my experience in Oman. My readers will never truly get hold of the thoughts and emotions that run through my mind as I live and breathe over here. Your view of my experience is myopic and construed through a pixilated canvas. So…I want to make sure that what I post not only reflects accurately on my experiences as I see them, but also that I may do right by the Omani. Their home and their kindness deserves a calculated respect and a deliberate patience as I shine their world through a Western lens onto the far world. I will continue to post regularly and with the same gentle tenacity with which I hope I have previously done. However, out of a desire to show humility in the face of the native… it is not and never will be my intention to mold this blog into a glorified twitter account. Please, keep reading regularly and with patience. Its also Eid right now so everything is closed and finding an internet oasis is pretty difficult in the desert.

            Recently I have been taking Arabic classes for four hours each day from Saturday to Wednesday. I enjoy speaking Arabic and I believe learning the language will be immensely helpful to my assimilation into the Arab culture and might even provide an avenue for future job prospects. On a more pertinent note, upon meeting an Omani if I throw in some words from their colloquial dialect they get the immediate impression that I’ve been here awhile and know some other Omanis. I haven’t been here very long but the latter is certainly true. I really don’t care for writing Arabic, especially in ‘Modern Standard Arabic.’ MSA is the generic Arabic in which the Qur’an and most newspapers are written… but nobody except college kids who’ve been trapped inside an Al-Kitab book for two years (the most widely used textbook for studying MSA in the world) ever use the formalized and dry speech patterns. MSA when spoken to a cab driver in Oman would sound similar to William Shakespeare trying to catch a taxi from Brooklyn to Central Park. Yah, people might get the point, but for thou to expediently expound thou’s linguistic virginity with such pompous undertones so aversely sets the cabis’ sails against you that a little laughter at your expense is surly afoot. It gets you where you want to go but its mildly ridiculous. I may drop out of the intermediate writing class I’m currently subjected to in an effort to take more of the colloquial dialect under my tongue and in the true Omani fashion exchange the clearly classical for the markedly modern. If I ever need to write a business letter to an Omani I’ll hire a translator. If I need to phone an overseas partner I’ll do it myself. Also, the teaching style in an Arabic classroom is very different than any American setting I have been apart of…no English is spoken and all questions must be asked in Arabic. This is in an effort to allow the student to develop an understanding of the language from an Arabic perspective, as some words just don’t resonate conceptually within the English lexicon.  However, the class usually digresses into a game of charades mixed with quick guttural noises as students scamper to discern the instructors point. I am learning though, with laughter.

            I have also been attending lectures on the make-up of Oman’s internal political context. Specifically, I have recently learned about the deep roots that some Omanis have historically dug into the continent of Africa. Most notably Zanzibar…these Omanis can be called Swahili Omanis but most prefer to simply be regarded as Omanis. Oman’s empire under the Ya’Aribah dynasty is often considered the golden age as the holdings of the state ran from East Africa to Pakistan and India all the way up through Iran. It seems as if most Middle Eastern countries can muster up a time when they had what was rightfully theirs.

              Sultan Sa’id (1791-1856) actually moved the capitol to Zanzibar in an effort to protect Oman’s commercial interests (probably slaves). Zanzibar during this period was a thriving center of enlightenment and the Sultan was considered to be a true patron of the arts. 

            A long story short…Omanis were previously deprived of educational opportunities and social mobility on the mainland…many of them chose to move to Zanzibar. However, as Zanzibar Omanis became the educated elite ruling minority in Zanzibar, the natives got angry. Socialist movements sprang up and took hold in the East African holding of Oman. However, like a lot of African debacles in history…in an effort to reduce the threat of communism the CIA and the British inserted a large propaganda machine into the country to change the nature of the sporadic socialist movements into an organized and systematic expulsion of the Arabs for nationalist gains. Thousands of Zanzibar Omanis were murdered and kicked out of their homes. Theses once wealthy educated elites were forced to flee and move into the UAE, the UK, Russia, Qatar, and Bahrain. Those who moved to the UK learned English and received Western educations. Upon his ascension to the throne in 1970…Sultan Qaboos invited all people with Omani roots to return to the country. Swahili Omanis returned in masse to assume high positions in business and government. Their education in English and connections to the UK proved invaluable to the success of modern day Oman. They continue to be the most affluent and liberal people in Oman. Strong family ties, a remembrance of their African roots combined with strengthening roots in Oman as well as love for the Sultan provide some insight into this unique demographic. 

            Similarly I have been learning a lot about Oman’s historic tribal structure. Every Omani holds allegiance to a specific tribe and can identify one another by just hearing a name. These tribes comprise large families and geographic areas within the Sultanate. The tribes provide a channel for loyalty and social mobility as well as providing the legitimacy of the sate in the eyes of most Omanis. In Oman, there is a ‘tug of war’ between the state and the historically powerful Sheikhs. What tribes still get power under the Sultan and which tribes loose out depends on their acceptance of increasingly limited leverage against the current power structure as well as family ties to the Al Sa’id regime.

            As tribal interests become more entwined with the modern system they lose power and influence. Basically, as the people of a tribe decide that the modern progress created by the Sultan is a good thing…the Sheikh or tribal leader, looses the ability to negotiate with the Sultan by claiming that he might just take his people and go… However, the sate is a product of the tribes. As such, Sultan Qaboos recognizes the importance of these historic groupings in the make-up of his country.             The government functions as a ‘corporate state’ in that it brings all of the tribes under one roof. Nevertheless, a photograph I saw depicted the yearly meeting between Qaboos and his advisors on one side of a desert lawn…the existing Sheiks on the other. The Sheiks all had traditional small bamboo canes that housed skinny swords or pokers and have always served to symbolically denote a position of power and wealth. Qaboos and his men were shadowed purposefully and noticeably by armed soldiers wielding M-16 rifles. Interestingly, an American made arm.

            The complex intricacy of Oman’s population is apparent but not always clear. Values and beliefs tend to break down and solidify over various thin cultural fault lines. It is a perfect example of the care that should be taken when attempting to label and declare what is right and wrong for a nation’s people. Perhaps the United States’ previous sultan should have gone on a study abroad trip in his youth.

           

Now to some more personal events:

            First and foremost, my experience here has been altered in an incredible way. I attended an ‘Iftir’ dinner at the local mosque near my house…I met a few men and spoke as much Arabic as I could. The next day as I was walking to the store and a kid about my age flagged me down and said…”Haaayy brother, I’ve been looking for you…” 

Uhhh, yah I’ve been looking for you too…

The kid is the son of a doctor I met at the mosque behind my house…his father had told him to look for me and show me around Oman. As is the case when you are alone in a foreign country, you take the friends you can get. So, I dropped everything I was doing and followed him on a walk around the neighborhood. We talked for a while awkwardly about Islam and Saddam Hussein. Did you know that the former Iraqi Gov. was Bathist…maybe you did…but did you know they were a secular regime and would never have sided with Muslim fundamentalists. I sure didn’t.

             For privacy purposes I’ll call my new buddy ‘Al-Jisr’. (The Bridge). Initially our relationship was based on the fact that his father told him to show me around Oman. However, as we have seen more and more of one another I can truly say that we are friends. ‘A-Jisr’ is a devout Muslim and a Swahili Omani. It is interesting to be friends with a Muslim. We do not talk about physical relations with women, or drinking, the sports we like are different, we dress differently, and he speaks fluent Arabic and English and is into physics and engineering. It has been eye opening for me to develop a friendship with ‘Al-Jisr’ to say the least.

            We talk about politics…philosophy…psychology…love. Muslim men who pride themselves on being spiritual tend to discuss deep issues pertaining to the fabric of life when engaged in social situations. Similarly, Islam is always on the table as a possible discussion topic. ALWAYS. When faced with a situation where you must hold a conversation with a Muslim…just ask anything you can think of about Islam…odds are they were potty trained while memorizing Qur’anic versus and growing up as a Muslim male generally means idolizing local religious clerics and their teachings in an effort to impress one’s male elders. Muslims over the age of 20 are all self-proclaimed religious historians and preaching to foreigners about one’s religious tenets in contention with the failures of the West must be a common dream that I have so humbly and silently been able to fulfill time and time again. **NOTE:** ‘Al-Jisr’ has never done this, his knowledge of Islam is like a deep ocean but he only asserts himself on the matter when I show curiosity. We talk about many other mutually interesting topics that stretch far and wide beyond religion. Before I talk about him, I need to illustrate how unique his perspective on the West and towards me seems to be.

            I sound a little negative about the cultural trait within Muslim males to want to preach, simply because of a few recent bad experiences I have had with blatant Anti-Americanism and Islamic propaganda. As an elder Muslim recently exclaimed to me, “A few bad apples has the ability to spoil the bunch.” (He was referring to American journalists who misconstrue facts for anti-Arab pro-Jew political ends.)

            I fully understand the desire and cultural necessity to bring one’s son into this earth with the Qur’an in mind. I get the idea to want to share one’s beliefs with a foreigner, for that I am thankful beyond measure… but in all seriousness, when my curiosity about Islam is perceived as an open invitation for a possible conversion target… I get pissed off. Everyone immediately assumes I’m a Christian so if they begin to preach it always involves the Qur’an vs. the Bible. I haven’t read much of the Bible and really don’t have a desire to defend it with limited knowledge of its context and versus. So…I sit quietly and nod with a smile as if everything I’m hearing is on the verge of causing me a grand mental enlightenment. All the while I can’t help but teeter on the edge of a minute psychotic digression into intolerant backwater America. I exercise some discipline and resist the filthy urge, teeth gleaming white and my jaw grinding slow.

            Similarly, I have had two mind altering experiences which have really shaken my faith of the pureness of the people here in Oman…I won’t name names or go into detail…basically, when someone proceeds to give me a lecture on how awful and opposite they think American values and beliefs are from the strait and narrow path of Arabian Islam simply because they know I’m a political science student from the USA…that pisses me off. It’s perfectly good for two people to have differing viewpoints and perspectives. But when someone looses sight of the fact that I care just as much about my culture as they do about theirs and when they don’t even care to think about the pains I have taken to drop my life back home and learn about their way of living thousands of miles from my loved ones as they bombard me with examples from E entertainment tonight…I get sad. E is the most widely viewed news channel in the Middle East with a focus on America. Its’ ratings top CNN over here. I’ve had two guys cite Lindsey Lohan as an example of Americans not having any respect for women as they seamlessly move into a criticism of the American media. I’m here!!! I’m trying to educate my people on your people!!! I want to know the truth about the Middle East!! Why don’t you feel the same way about America? Frustration abound. 

            Omanis are not better than Americans. Americans are not better than Omanis. We are simply different. But in the minds of a few ignorant fools, different morphs into diametrically opposed and without a centered and self-confident individual like myself who can respect native sensitivities…punches get thrown.

            I used to be ashamed of an alleged image that Americans had abroad, loud obnoxious and arrogant materialists who slash through culturally sensitive brush with a razor sharp credit card. Ok that may be some people…but as far as I’m concerned insensitive people who don’t care to find the facts as they thrive off of a fad that says making fun of a different people is cool and sociable exist everywhere. Even in a place that at face value seems as completely and benevolently tolerant as Oman.

For me, bad apples don’t spoil the bunch…they just make finding good ones all that much better. In the poetic words of Jim Morrison…“day destroys the night, night divides the day, try to run, try to hide, break on through to the other side…” In this universe I’m a firm believer in the necessity of opposites. Similarly, you just can’t identify the bitter without the sweet…visa versa.   

  Initially I could perceive that ‘Al-Jisr’ was a good guy and would be vital to providing some insight into my time in Oman especially because we are close in age. I mean heck, he has to get out more than my 6-year old home-stay brother. In time… I have found that I severely underestimated both his goodness as a person and his ability to show me the Oman he knows. At this very moment I’m still not sure what I did to deserve such a caring host who has asked for nothing in return. Although I don’t think I could give him much that he does not already have access to…

            ‘Al-Jisr’ is related to a long line of Swahili Omanis…part of which have married into the royal family here in Oman. I didn’t know this when I met his modest father. Most of his family shares the Al-Sa’id name with the Sultan. I only found this out recently. The first time when he showed up to my school unannounced and picked me up in an Aston-Martin V12 Vanquish I knew something interesting was taking place. I’m not kidding about this…its as ridiculous for me to experience as it is for you to read it…actually more so.

            We went to ‘PDO Club’ (Petroleum Development Oman’s private resort for its employees) and ate food and played squash. PDO is the Omani government’s partnership with the Shell Corp. to export oil from the Sultanate. They Own 200 miles of the coastline and put up all of their employees (mostly British and American) in villas overlooking the Ocean. ‘Al-Jisr’s” mother is also a senior development engineer for PDO. He hopes to follow in her footsteps. He was born in Dallas Texas but moved to the UK for 10 years and has lived in Oman for 10.

            ‘Al-Jisr’ has introduced me to a long string of uncles within his family. Prominent religious figures and billionaire oil developers are not in short supply. This quasi-elite businessman/royalty mixture is common among the oldest Swahili families in Oman. I have met three uncles and three of his brothers. I have also met his father to whom I am also grateful. Grateful is a supreme understatement. I’m not sure what my time here would be like without ‘Al-Jisr’. I don’t care to know. Our relationship will inevitably shape my experience through the connections I make and the places I go. However, more than experiencing a side of this country that thrives on royal opulence and is extremely rare to outsiders…I am developing a close friendship with ‘Al-Jisr’ and I am learning so much more than I ever could have without him. This all sounds so fluid and natural…but just let me stress to you the absolute rarity of coming to the Middle East as an exchange student and befriending someone like ‘Al-Jisr’. I just don’t get it myself. By the grace of Allah he will change my life.

‘Al-Jisr’ and I have bonded over rap music as he likes Eminem… the other day he introduced me to Danzak…in 1997 MTV Oman opened its programming with a concert. Danzak opened for Ludacris and Akon. All three are famous in the Muscat Area.

            One of the most meaningful experiences I have had as a result of my friendship has been meeting one of ‘Al-Jisr’s’ uncles for an ‘Iftir’ dinner. He is a prominent religious figure and wealthy businessman. For privacy purposes I am not going to give his name or really describe his palace in detail. I will call him ‘Shama’ or in Arabic, light.

            Arabic Sheiks like ‘Shama’ love to talk about Islam and give life lessons…especially to Westerners. Like most Omanis, he immediately assumed I was Christian. We initially spoke about Islam, as his first question to me was “what do you know about Islam?” And then, “What do you find strange about Islam.”   Let’s stop for a second. This is Monday afternoon around 5:00pm. ‘Al-Jisr’ picked me up from my house as I was rushing feverishly to get ready as I waited my turn to take a shower…3^rd in line. We rode in the Land Rover over to his uncle’s house…passed through some large gates and parked far from the grand doors. Ok back to sitting in front of the Sheikh.  I’m sweating my ass off from the walk across his lawn to the front door, my phone is vibrating in my pocket, and three other men behind him are staring at me… I’m not sure where I am other than some royal shindig and I’m pretty sure I forgot to turn the AC off in my room when I left…Hmmm, specifically and succinctly what do I know about the world’s largest and most intricate religion?

            I honestly don’t remember what I said. Something about it being a respectful and tolerant religion and it being separate from shifting cultural paradigms as the word of God could not be changed by the desires of man. I have always had that ability to kind of black out and speak eloquently and with poise when I’m under pressure. I think it stems from a lot of public embarrassment as a child. It’s really a talent that I cherish. Presumably a lot of people enter the Sheikh’s home and want to consult him or see what they can get from him. I think these initial two questions were intended to feel me out and get a sense if I was even worth talking to. We spoke for the next hour and a half…breaking twice so that he could go pray as there was an ordained mosque in his home. One of the men standing behind him was a religious cleric who read the prayer verses.  ‘Shama’ pretty much ran the gamut in terms of religious discussion on Islam…I asked a question and he answered, over and over. I couldn’t get enough. His answers were practical and wise. He spoke out against extremism and described in detail the methods and reasons behind the 5 pillars of Islam. He often said that Islam does not judge, “in Islam it is forbidden to judge others, even non-believers we do not judge, and instead, we take pity on them.” 

As far as the opulence of the palace…well. .‘Iftir’ dinner was more food than I’ve seen the entire month of Ramadan. There were 6 different Omani beverages on the table…2 types of chicken (baked for the Omanis and fried because they knew I was coming). Seriously. It was delicious. Most notably, a 14k gold shot glass sat in front of each chair at the table…filled with water…shipped in especially from the well of Mohammed in Mecca. About as close as it gets to holy water in Islam.  

 However, a couple of his teachings stuck out.

First off: he said that all of this business in the US with that damn preacher who wants burn the Qur’an cause he won’t get any attention any other way is rubbish…simply rubbish…he wants to burn an English translated version of the Koran. Muslims do not recognize translations of the holy book as being holy. Only Arabic versions count. Ha! Take that shortsighted self-absorbed dick weed. Nobody over here cares what you are doing.

Now to some more meaningful lessons…

1.) In Islam, intentions are everything:

Sheikh ‘Shama’ told me a short anecdote to illustrate his point. Two men lived in a cabin in the desert. One upstairs and one down… the man upstairs would spend his days praying and praising God while the man downstairs would drink and invite prostitutes over…one day the man upstairs heard the man downstairs drinking wildly…the man downstairs was angry because he no longer got satisfaction from paying for sex. He felt alone. The man upstairs decided that he had gotten nothing from a life of prayer and he wanted to go downstairs to live like his vulgar counterpart. The downstairs dweller decided to turn to God and start a pious life. On their ways up and down, both ladders broke and both men died. The man from upstairs went to hell and the man from downstairs went to heaven. Intentions in Islam are paramount. Actions are secondary.

2.) In Islam the mother is also paramount:

            A man will not go to heaven if his mother is not happy with him. In Islam one must put the happiness of the mother in front of all other desires. In the times of Mohammed, a boy could not recite the Shahadda before death because he had lost his voice…Mohammed said to go get the boys mother and see if she was happy with him. She said no. Presumably the boy went to hell. Similarly, it is often said that admission to heaven is on the foot of the mother…this is a metaphor for how low one must bow in their actions toward their mother. We are apart of our mothers and they know us best. In Islam, if a mother requests something of her son. He must obey for his souls sake.

Along with ‘Al-Jisr” and I was a friend I met the first night with ‘Al-Jisr’ named Ummar. He is a manager at company that deals in oil extraction technology and graduated from Yale some years ago before moving back to Oman. He is very bright guy. Nevertheless, his way of interacting with Sheikh ‘Shama’ was to exclaim over and over how wise the Sheikh seemed and how great his home was and how he appreciated so much the hospitality he was showing. All this was true, but it was all too obvious that he was a suck-up. The Sheikh stopped him in his tracks. “You know Mr. Ummar, the three men who were the first to go to hell?? The men who invented the Mosque, the Koran and Alms. These men did not invent these things out of praise for God, they did so because they wanted others to perceive them as pious.” The Sheikh spoke of speaking from the heart and out of genuine curiosity and not faking friendship to receive material benefit. Ummar shut up pretty quick. I was silent too.

Sheikh ‘Shama’ broke for prayer and I did some introspection of my own. I don’t want to look at my relationship with ‘Al-jisr’ like a business interest. He has a lot to offer me in the way of connections to this world. However, first and foremost he is someone who I can relate to on a personal level and I admire his humility in the face of every possible chance to be the opposite.

Sheikh ‘Shama’ was not always a Muslim. He spoke of the man who converted him to Islam in the early 50’s and of the importance of his wife in his eventual conversion. He seemed to admire his wife for her strength and the fact that “she has never missed a Haj or pilgrimage to Mecca in her life.” Although he did later say that if a woman were to raise her voice to her husband in the home, she will go to hell. Sheikh ‘Shama’ studied in the UK and founded a major telecommunications company in the Gulf region. He asked if I would come back to his home in a day and celebrate Eid with him, he offered to send a driver to pick me up so that I could make it. I plan on it. He also asked what my Muslim name would be when I converted…he said it should be Abdullah as it means servant of God. I took this as a compliment.

            The way the Sheikh took me into his home and offered both food and wisdom along with his precious time combined with ‘Al-jisr’s’ willingness to open his family up to me are perfect examples of the true Omani nature. Kindness and tenacious hospitality for one’s guests are cultural traits that I will try to emulate long after I leave Oman.

            Its Wednesday night around 10pm:

            Today marked the celebration of Eid in the Muslim World. The month long recognition of Ramadan through fasting and increased daily prayer along with a general effort to be more pure and pious in one's actions has come to an end. Eid Mubarak!! Let’s eat!…seriously please god can we start eating breakfast now? The Muslim tradition of fasting allows believers to gain a deeply physical and emotional empathy with those who suffer from a lack of nourishment in today's world. My family did not eat or drink anything in the morning...went all day without a drop of water or a secret little nibble in the afternoon...and stoically broke the fast around 6:30 in the evening every night at a ceremony called Iftir. Fasting was difficult for me to say the least. I'm just not used to functioning physically and academically on an empty stomach. My home-stay father, a veteran cab driver who did not take abnormal time off or relinquish his duty as the family's chief bread winner; told me to be strong mentally and focus on tasks that did not involve thinking of hunger. He claimed that Allah brought him the strength to carry out his daily routine in the face of starvation. Presumably, fasting is also a catalyst for asking Allah to display his immeasurable ability to empower those who believe in his omnipotence.

           From a Western lens, at first glance... Eid is similar to Christmas in terms of how much emphasis is placed on the jubilant nature of the celebration. However, Eid is not declared until the full moon is sighted…this does not happen until the night before the celebration, so imagine if you knew what week Christmas would be in…but if you only knew the day, the night before.To an American this is crazy, how could you buy everyone a unique gift in such little time. In Oman, not a problem. Scrambling for gifts really is not an issue as money is all that is given out. Little kids walk around with an Eid wallet and elders hand them bills in exchange for a respectful kiss on the hand. Perhaps, this is a reflection of modesty as well as collectivity within the Omani culture. Money is universal. The bills look the same to most young kids and without knowing the amount your neighbor is receiving, every body is getting the same gift. In the spirit of a major holiday where I come from and with my "deep Christian roots" in mind…I woke up early and put a few gifts for Marwan and Manar on the floor of the TV room with a sign that said “Merry Eid”. I'm not sure if my family understood the irony in this action but I hope they appreciated the effort on my part to commemorate a truly joyous and special occasion. I was still asleep when they opened the gifts but when I awoke, they were playing with them.

            My Eid was spent with ‘Al-Jisr’s’ uncle ‘Shama’ at his home. My family embarked on a traditional quest to journey from home to home visiting elder family members and friends. I think it worked out well to celebrate a little in the morning with my family and take a picture before going our separate ways. With my self, our maid, my mother and father as well as my brother and sister...the small taxi would have been mighty uncomfortable.
           At a Westerner's face value, Eid is actually more similar to Thanksgiving as it pretty much centers on family and friends eating traditional meals together. I stress meals. Chicken and rice as well as a plethora of sweets are served in abundance. Basically, as per my experience, the elders in a family prepare snacks and meals at their home for guests…the elder sits in a certain room all morning as family members and friends, and maybe even people with their sights on a few bucks drop in and wish that esteemed family member an "Eid Mubarak" and to chat for a little bit. Or to not chat. Often, guests would enter Shama's home and greet him exuberantly with respectful deference only to sit in silence for a few minutes and then leave with a short goodbye. This is the essence of being and not doing. Simply making the effort to visit and taking the time to sit with someone on Eid or presumably any other time of the year seems to be enough in the Arab world. Frivolous small talk is often see-through and not entertained. Being, is a real interaction based on what's actually happening in the room at that moment. If there's nothing of substance to be said, why say it? Similarly, actions may speak louder than words in this culture. Upon exiting the Sheik's home, everyone would stand up and shake each others hands. Respect, as well as the recognition of each and every guests value are paramount.
            Eid is not a Western holiday. At first, it was easy to place the traditions that were unfolding in front of my eyes into neatly pre-made Western cubby-holes... ie. Christmas and Thanksgiving. However, one tradition opened my eyes and closed my adolescent Western storage space...the youngest male in the room, regardless of being a guest or not...was always expected to serve the elder males coffee and treats throughout their sitting. I noticed a young Omani's hands shake as he poured coffee into my cup. I wanted to say, "hey clam down I'm about your age and I can do it my self if its easier." But that would have been culturally and perceptually lackluster of me. Eid is just as much about celebrating the end of Ramadan as it is about celebrating the eldest members in one's family. In the Arab world, in contrast to the Western tradition of a child slashing through red and green paper to get to Barbie or GI Joe... grandma and grandpa are showered with the gift of their families presence. Individual appearances are worth more than material items. Youth is secondary to wisdom. My young coffee server knew his duty, but he also knew the honor in serving one's elders through a time honored tradition.

            All morning different types of people filtered in and out of the Sheikh’s home. Friends, family, friends of friends, Ministers of state, judges, religious clerics, students…a lot of people, I stopped counting at 65.  I sat right next to ‘Shama’. I would field him with a question or two about Islam and our conversations would be broken by visitors about every 10 minutes. The Sheikh also took my curiosity for Islam as me saying that I eventually wanted to convert to the religion…but he told me he understood that things like this would take time and that it would not come with outside pressure. This was refreshing and it was nice to have such a kind and wise man to answer my questions. Plus I felt some rare humility being the only one sitting next to him all morning. He would introduce me as his young American friend who recently converted to Islam under his guidance. Islam is a universal bonding mechanism in the Arab world. Brothers stand for brothers and sisters for sisters. I was well received. 
        'Shama' would ask his guests to speak to me in Arabic so that I could respond and impress them…I did. And thus I turned into a newly righteous American novelty. I didn’t mind. Sheikh ‘Shama’ seemed to be having a great time. He said I was part of his family and offered to help me with my research for school in any way possible. I’m going to do a research project on Islam where I need to conduct interviews… per Shama's connections I’m going to get to meet the Grand Mutfi… he’s in charge of determining how the Omani government interprets Islam in its policies. Nobody gets to meet the Mutfi!! The Shiekh sat in his chair for about 5 hours receiving guests and handing a select few of them a couple bills worth 20 OMR ($60). I saw him give a 7-year old girl 65 dollars. We would break for snacks every now and then to keep ‘Shama’ from falling asleep. I ate breakfast, lunch and dinner at the Sheik’s house. OH! And because I was “newly converted,” I got to go into the mosque and pray with the Muslim men of the neighborhood. Let’s just say it was terrifying at first but ultimately transcended into a state of unfamiliar calmness. Other than that I won’t describe it. Non-Muslims stay out.