Trash Talk

So it snowed. A lot. Since when does that give you the excuse to abuse others.

I will not even begin to rant about all the driving related issues this brought about on a country already struggling with limited resources but have we not learnt anything from this summer's garbage disposal issues?

What makes it acceptable for your home to be clean yet your neighbourhood strewn in litter?

How can it even be possible to imagine that a Waste Collector's duty is to pick up your garbage off the ground just because you could not be bothered to properly place it *inside* the trash can or even in a black garbage bag?

What kind of people does that make us? On second thoughts, don't answer that.

Courtesies cannot be borrowed like snow shovels; you must have some of your own.

~ John Wanamaker

Garbage removal is a citizen responsibility. ~ Jaime Lerner 

Alexa meets Amman

A short photo-story of when Alexa came to town!     :

The day before was a flood of torrential rain.

This was just a small precursor to what was to come.

Snow enhances the beauty of everything it touches.

The night Alexa arrived. 

And then it finally thawed....a bit ;)

The Passage of Death

It's not every day that you manage to get stuck for a few hours in the depths of a mud-sucking lake in the deserts of Jordan in a brand spanking new UNHCR Toyota Land Cruiser for VIP's.

And probably even rarer to be able to then lay claim to being rescued by the Jordanian Armed Forces in a sci-fi like Armored Personnel Carrier that seemed to magically float on the surface of the water strewn mud slicks as it races to the rescue.

So when the Syrian Refugees who have made this journey across the vast and unforgiving no man's land into Jordan refer to it as the 'passage of death' it is easy to be skeptical and dismiss it as a colourful but exaggerated Arabic allegory.

Yet having been caught in the bitter cold of a desert rainstorm on the eastern border of the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan and neighbouring Iraq & Syria; allow me to reassure you that despite only catching a glimpse of how difficult a winter crossing of the desert can be, the refugees' description is at best understatement.

For not only do they have to contend with the unpredictable natural elements; they do so having emerged from a shower of bullets, shellings and areas strewn with land mines aimed at them by their fellow countrymen.

According to many the journey is haunted by frequent makeshift graves marking the demise of those who valiantly tried to brave the desert in search of refuge from war only to lose their lives in a mercilessly harsh landscape.

The desert itself in that area is made up of sharp stones that dig into their scantily clad feet and if that isn't sufficient to trip them up or twist their ankles as they walk laden with their children and few remaining belongings; then the crashing rain that renders the land a smooth quick-sand like mud slick is bound to retaliate instead.

They journey into the unknown having paid small fortunes and been piled into vans a hundred at a time only to be abandoned midway and made to find their own path across. Several complain of having been lost for at least 10 days as they seek out the borders to safety.

They arrive in their hundreds exhausted, shivering & starving in their hundreds at the Jordanian border where they are admitted, fed & sheltered at the Ruwaished Army Camp until all their details are processed and they can be transferred across the desert to their new home: the Za'atari Refugee Camp.

         

On cold & wet Thursday afternoon 200 #syrian #refugees 

    ran en masse to cross into the Far Eastern #Jordanian border

from #Syria . In total 1,400 arrived this weekend

amidst rumours of chemical attacks. 

#jo — at Ruwaished.

Several hundred mostly #Syrian women & children 

@refugees cross into #Jordan 

More than 1 million children have fled #Syria

& 75% of them are under age 11

that’s around 800,000

young children #FutureofSyria

Commander Hassan of the Border Guards looks pensive as 200 cold & wet #syrian @refugees cross into East #Jordan from #Syria ~ it is estimated that 1,400 arrived this weekend.

A #Jordanian soldier pushes an injured #syrian man across to safety at the far east border of Ruwaished. #jo

Syrian Refugees scramble to climb on to the vehicles provided by the Jordanian Border Guards.

 They will be transported to the Ruwaished army camp where they will receive shelter & a hot meal before proceeding to Za'atari Refugee Camp #syria #refugees #jordan #jo

Mankind must put an end to war before war puts an end to mankind. ~ JFK#syria #syrian #refugees #war #humanity

Le Za'atari's Champs-Élysées

The first time you hear the impoverished residents of Za'atari Refugee Camp refer to their main shopping high street as "Shams-Elysee" you could be forgiven for pausing and raising a questioning eyebrow.

For in fact Syria is colloquially known as Bilad Al-Sham. But such is the self-deprecating humour of the refugees that they are happy to wittily name their main shopping street after the prestigiously famous location on one of the world's most expensive strips of real estate; and one cannot but be amused at the irony of that sarcastic nod towards their former colonialists.

And never has a name & its name-sake been so disparagingly different for naturally Za'atari's Champs-Élysées bears absolutely no resemblance to the French original be it in location, consumers or goods. Yet it depicts the life-blood of Syrians; for it is in their very genetic makeup to earn a living through trade businesses.

Whether you are looking for a butcher, an oriental perfumerie or a mobile phone retailer you will find it here. Nestled in the unforgiving dust of the desert some in shacks, others in tents and the more affluent in caravans. There are over 680 shops catering to the 160,000 of the 4th largest 'city' in Jordan.

In fact, according to the merchants of this desertified Champs-Élysées, the street is not long enough to meet their shopping needs. So, naturally they want to build up! By stacking the caravans above each other, they are intent on creating 'malls'. Then they can have cafes over-looking the 'high-street' so that they can smoke argeelas in the evening and thus attract more business. It is hard to tell from the huge grins and twinkling eyes whether they were just pulling our legs. I almost hope they are not; for that would truly be a unique sight to behold.