When I went to get my Jordanian military exemption more than a decade ago, I knew of the long lines and the bureaucracy that I had to battle. I was also familiar with people cutting in line, the selfishness and lack of consideration for each other, exemplified best in the way people drive, (something I became more painfully conscious of after leaving Amman and coming back to it.) But that day at the government agency marked my first encounter with a repeating pattern in Jordanian society, a pattern I would encounter in different forms.
While I was left waiting in line till what felt like eternity, I remember the conversation between the officer and the other guy ahead of me:
“What’s your name?” the officer said.
“Majed.”
“Majed what?”
“Majed Salam.”
“Salam from Jerusalem or Fheys?”
“Fheys.”
For a few moments, the officer’s eyes gazed into vacuum then he snapped back.
“How does Samir Salam relate to you?”
“My father’s uncle.”
“Oh! Great! Have a seat. Have a seat. Tea or coffee?”
“Thank you but I’m in a hurry, I have to…”
“Your uncle is a great man. Imad!” he yelled out the door. A service guy popped up.
“Coffee or tea?”
“I really must-”
“Imad, bring us Arabic coffee.”
“You ‘ll love it. You have to taste our coffee. So tell me, how is your uncle? How can we serve you?” The officer turned back to Majed.
When I finally got my turn, the officer’s eyes did gaze in wonder upon hearing my name – his brain must have been working at full capacity, searching all his mental databases – but apparently he could not form any connection, any name mapping. I was not offered tea or coffee. I also seemed to have to do many more steps before completing my transaction.
That was a long time ago and we’re supposed to have reduced the level of bureaucracy in our government departments. But this incident marks something different.
Often I would hear housewives discussing eligible or ineligible men for their daughters: His father is no good. His parents are janitors. Low class. High class, Nobility. Jordanian. Palestinian. Christian. Moslem.
We live in a culture where the foreground fades and the background is all that matters.