As I near the finale of my six-year quest for a Ph.D. and head off to a tenure-track job in the great Northeast next year, I think it is time to shut down Najaatee. The two years I spent in the Middle East, many experiences of which are documented on this blog, were the best of my life. Thank you for following along and sharing them with me; I can only hope that they will be surpassed by future visits as I move on to the next phase.
I will be opening a new blog at http://chance-spectator.blogspot.com within the next couple of weeks. I hope that you will follow me there!
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Sunday, December 07, 2008
Life in Virginia
I wanted to share some pics from the past couple of months in Charlottesville.
I live here:
There is a hookah on my front porch:
There are horses in my backyard:
There are also friends in my backyard:
N and R, friends from Cairo, came for a visit in October. Here they are on the Lawn:
N took some glamor shots:
I also ran into Roomie M in DC for the MEI conference several weeks ago:
And A, also from Cairo but now living in DC:
This is the coolest person I know:
I know, right?
We went to Florida last week:
And also found some non-beach activities:
I am not a very good shot.
I live here:
There is a hookah on my front porch:
There are horses in my backyard:
There are also friends in my backyard:
N and R, friends from Cairo, came for a visit in October. Here they are on the Lawn:
N took some glamor shots:
I also ran into Roomie M in DC for the MEI conference several weeks ago:
And A, also from Cairo but now living in DC:
This is the coolest person I know:
I know, right?
We went to Florida last week:
And also found some non-beach activities:
I am not a very good shot.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Selling Myself
Hello patient readers! I apologize for my long absence. You see, I have been pawning myself on the academic job market. It's a bit risky for me to provide too much detail on my personal situation, such as what my own preferences are and where I am interviewing, but I wanted to give you all an idea of what pure and utter hell this entire process is. Let me start by evoking Dante:
"The infernal storm, eternal in its rage, sweeps and drives the spirits with its blast; it whirls them, lashing them with punishment. When they are swept back past their place of judgment then come the shrieks, laments, and anguished cries; there they blaspheme God’s almighty power."
(The Whirlwind of the Lustful, Second Circle of Hell, The Inferno)
There is not much worse than sitting before a complete stranger who holds your job in his hand as he asks, "So just how far along are you on your dissertation?" It is difficult to be judged, and it is even more difficult when you've spent a month on your application and 2-3 days at each school in face to face interviews. If you don't get the position, you can't say, "Well, they didn't really know me or understand my work," because after all of that, they do know you quite well and they've read about 100 pages of what's you have judged to be your best quality writing.
Actually, there is something worse. There are two to four other candidates for the same position, all of whom have been flown out and received the same royal treatment to a nice hotel and nice dinners and faculty one-on-ones that you have. You don't know who they are, but they might know who you are, depending on how well plugged-in they happen to be. You typically don't know where you fall in the sequence of interviews, and you don't know much about when you will hear the hiring committee's decision. At most, it's "Sometime after Thanksgiving!"
In the meantime, you constantly check your phone and your e-mail and fester over memories of your job talk. You check the job blogs, a reliable source of spotty and unreliable information.
The whole process of being on the job market has also forced me to reflect on classifying myself as a Middle East area specialist; I've realized in the past couple of months that we have a pretty bad reputation in the profession of political science. We're pinned as historical, socio-anthro types who roam around the region learning Arabic and camping with Bedouins and/or working for the CIA on the side. At job talks and in everyday conversation we often aren't put to serious theoretical tests that non-specialists would be, but are asked to tell stories of our travels in the Middle East and to address tribalism, culture, and religion as causal variables. This stands in contrast to "political scientists" who study Western Europe or even Latin America, many of whom use advanced formal methods and build on a larger body of political science theory in their work--and whom most political scientists would no longer dream to ask, "But what about culture?"
Of course, non-ME specialists pardon the ME specialists for their alleged lack of methodological and theoretical knowledge, saying, "Well, you have to learn a difficult language and we still need to know about this region," as if learning a hard language should excuse one from meeting the standards of the profession.
This distinction between "real" political scientists and Middle East specialists is utter BS. I've taken the same methods classes as non-Middle East specialists, I use advanced qualitative methods (with the capability to use stats if I choose to do so in the future), and my work builds on broader theory. I've got an article coming out in a top journal where non-ME specialists publish all the time. I also engage in policy on the side. Lots of other young Middle East specialists are in a similar place. Yet we are lumped in with specialists of an older generation who, while still making a valuable contribution to our knowledge of the region, didn't exactly keep up with the profession of political science and often used the classroom as a pulpit to preach the ills of the Arab-Israeli conflict.
I've had to address these perceptions of my field quite a bit during the past couple of months. I'm not sure how convincing I was. But to all would-be ME specialists I say: you can do it all. Learn Arabic, learn political science, learn how to do field research and write good academic articles, and keep yourself grounded and your ideas relevant by providing policy input. It's not as difficult as other people seem to think.
"The infernal storm, eternal in its rage, sweeps and drives the spirits with its blast; it whirls them, lashing them with punishment. When they are swept back past their place of judgment then come the shrieks, laments, and anguished cries; there they blaspheme God’s almighty power."
(The Whirlwind of the Lustful, Second Circle of Hell, The Inferno)
There is not much worse than sitting before a complete stranger who holds your job in his hand as he asks, "So just how far along are you on your dissertation?" It is difficult to be judged, and it is even more difficult when you've spent a month on your application and 2-3 days at each school in face to face interviews. If you don't get the position, you can't say, "Well, they didn't really know me or understand my work," because after all of that, they do know you quite well and they've read about 100 pages of what's you have judged to be your best quality writing.
Actually, there is something worse. There are two to four other candidates for the same position, all of whom have been flown out and received the same royal treatment to a nice hotel and nice dinners and faculty one-on-ones that you have. You don't know who they are, but they might know who you are, depending on how well plugged-in they happen to be. You typically don't know where you fall in the sequence of interviews, and you don't know much about when you will hear the hiring committee's decision. At most, it's "Sometime after Thanksgiving!"
In the meantime, you constantly check your phone and your e-mail and fester over memories of your job talk. You check the job blogs, a reliable source of spotty and unreliable information.
The whole process of being on the job market has also forced me to reflect on classifying myself as a Middle East area specialist; I've realized in the past couple of months that we have a pretty bad reputation in the profession of political science. We're pinned as historical, socio-anthro types who roam around the region learning Arabic and camping with Bedouins and/or working for the CIA on the side. At job talks and in everyday conversation we often aren't put to serious theoretical tests that non-specialists would be, but are asked to tell stories of our travels in the Middle East and to address tribalism, culture, and religion as causal variables. This stands in contrast to "political scientists" who study Western Europe or even Latin America, many of whom use advanced formal methods and build on a larger body of political science theory in their work--and whom most political scientists would no longer dream to ask, "But what about culture?"
Of course, non-ME specialists pardon the ME specialists for their alleged lack of methodological and theoretical knowledge, saying, "Well, you have to learn a difficult language and we still need to know about this region," as if learning a hard language should excuse one from meeting the standards of the profession.
This distinction between "real" political scientists and Middle East specialists is utter BS. I've taken the same methods classes as non-Middle East specialists, I use advanced qualitative methods (with the capability to use stats if I choose to do so in the future), and my work builds on broader theory. I've got an article coming out in a top journal where non-ME specialists publish all the time. I also engage in policy on the side. Lots of other young Middle East specialists are in a similar place. Yet we are lumped in with specialists of an older generation who, while still making a valuable contribution to our knowledge of the region, didn't exactly keep up with the profession of political science and often used the classroom as a pulpit to preach the ills of the Arab-Israeli conflict.
I've had to address these perceptions of my field quite a bit during the past couple of months. I'm not sure how convincing I was. But to all would-be ME specialists I say: you can do it all. Learn Arabic, learn political science, learn how to do field research and write good academic articles, and keep yourself grounded and your ideas relevant by providing policy input. It's not as difficult as other people seem to think.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Postcards from J-Town
A couple of days ago I finally got to head over to Israel for a few days' vacation before I leave the Middle East. Yo was also in residence and showed me around the Albright, Jerusalem, and Haifa.
THE ALBRIGHT
For almost two years I have been hearing tales of the W.F. Albright Institute for Archaeological Research from archie friends Yo, Mo, and Chris. Run by Sy Gitin, the Albright is the oldest American research center in the Middle East and, combined with ACOR in Amman (run by Barbara Porter, and my home base on and off for the past two years) and CAARI in Cyprus (run by Tom Davis), it is part of the American Schools of Oriental Research. The Albright is a bit different than ACOR because its sole focus remains on archaeology, while ACOR has moved towards contemporary anthropology, art, and political science. Its library has many of the old texts that newer libraries cannot afford, and the attic is full of old pots and animal bones from digs (in addition to a pile of gas masks from the First Gulf War and God knows what else).
The library:
The courtyard, facing the Director's wing (where the Director no longer lives but which is leased out to NGO families):
One of the many cats-in-residence:
JERUSALEM
Jerusalem is quite a small city, East and West combined, and I had the chance to see many of the tourist sites during my visit last year. This time Yo took me a little off the beaten path. Our first stop was Mamilla Cemetery, which dates to the Umayyad period. The cemetery has turned up in the news quite a bit recently because the neighboring construction for the Simon Wiesenthal "Museum of Tolerance" has uncovered more of the cemetery. While the Muslim Awqaf has largely let the cemetery fall into ruin, and Islam does not forbid the disturbance of bones as in Judaism, the Awqaf has decided to take issue with this. The protests of the Awqaf have been echoed by Israeli archaeologists, who see the site as a great project for someone who studies the period. The courts have stayed the plan for the museum several times, and it is due to be completed in 2009.
Mamilla has also been threatened by real estate development. Check out the facade of the nearby Waldorf Astoria: they gutted out everything but the facade, which has a beautiful Arabic inscription on it.
We also went to a nice park with a good view of the city. In this picture you can see a snippet of "The Wall" between Israel and the West Bank.
Here is a better view of the Old City:
On Day 3 we did some wandering around Ben Yehuda Street, one of my favorites.
Yo got a haircut following a very, very hairy Israeli man (that guy's folicular remnants are on the floor). I had to sit and watch.
Yo also showed me around Hebrew Union College, where a lot of his stuff is stored.
EIN KEREM
We drove several kilometers Southwest to the village of Ein Kerem, an old Arab village-come- Shabbat getaway for Jerusalem's dwindling secular-minded Jewish population. It's open all day and they have Leffe beer. John the Baptist is said to have been born here. It's green and full of little restaurants, as well as the "Fountain of Mary." I made some friends, named Daniel and Danielle ("We're not brother and sister, we're just friends but not THAT kind of friends, you know.") by putting my feet in the spring with them.
Only now did I read that the spring water is contaminated by water running off from the nearby Hadassah hospital. Good thing we didn't drink it!
HAIFA
On Day 2, we drove to Haifa, mostly to see the famous Baha'i Gardens. A place of pilgrimage for the Baha'is, the gardens go straight up the side of Mt. Carmel and have 1400 steps. Here is the Shrine of the Bab:
Here is a view from the middle:
A view from the bottom:
And a view from the very top:
We also tried to go to the highly recommended Museum of Clandestine Immigration but we were turned away because I had Arabic stamps in my passport and Yo said he lived on Shari'a Salah Eddin in East Jerusalem. Way to go, AMP and Yo.
We were so pissed off that we skipped town, missing the gondolas.
Overall, great trip! Thanks, Yo!
THE ALBRIGHT
For almost two years I have been hearing tales of the W.F. Albright Institute for Archaeological Research from archie friends Yo, Mo, and Chris. Run by Sy Gitin, the Albright is the oldest American research center in the Middle East and, combined with ACOR in Amman (run by Barbara Porter, and my home base on and off for the past two years) and CAARI in Cyprus (run by Tom Davis), it is part of the American Schools of Oriental Research. The Albright is a bit different than ACOR because its sole focus remains on archaeology, while ACOR has moved towards contemporary anthropology, art, and political science. Its library has many of the old texts that newer libraries cannot afford, and the attic is full of old pots and animal bones from digs (in addition to a pile of gas masks from the First Gulf War and God knows what else).
The library:
The courtyard, facing the Director's wing (where the Director no longer lives but which is leased out to NGO families):
One of the many cats-in-residence:
JERUSALEM
Jerusalem is quite a small city, East and West combined, and I had the chance to see many of the tourist sites during my visit last year. This time Yo took me a little off the beaten path. Our first stop was Mamilla Cemetery, which dates to the Umayyad period. The cemetery has turned up in the news quite a bit recently because the neighboring construction for the Simon Wiesenthal "Museum of Tolerance" has uncovered more of the cemetery. While the Muslim Awqaf has largely let the cemetery fall into ruin, and Islam does not forbid the disturbance of bones as in Judaism, the Awqaf has decided to take issue with this. The protests of the Awqaf have been echoed by Israeli archaeologists, who see the site as a great project for someone who studies the period. The courts have stayed the plan for the museum several times, and it is due to be completed in 2009.
Mamilla has also been threatened by real estate development. Check out the facade of the nearby Waldorf Astoria: they gutted out everything but the facade, which has a beautiful Arabic inscription on it.
We also went to a nice park with a good view of the city. In this picture you can see a snippet of "The Wall" between Israel and the West Bank.
Here is a better view of the Old City:
On Day 3 we did some wandering around Ben Yehuda Street, one of my favorites.
Yo got a haircut following a very, very hairy Israeli man (that guy's folicular remnants are on the floor). I had to sit and watch.
Yo also showed me around Hebrew Union College, where a lot of his stuff is stored.
EIN KEREM
We drove several kilometers Southwest to the village of Ein Kerem, an old Arab village-come- Shabbat getaway for Jerusalem's dwindling secular-minded Jewish population. It's open all day and they have Leffe beer. John the Baptist is said to have been born here. It's green and full of little restaurants, as well as the "Fountain of Mary." I made some friends, named Daniel and Danielle ("We're not brother and sister, we're just friends but not THAT kind of friends, you know.") by putting my feet in the spring with them.
Only now did I read that the spring water is contaminated by water running off from the nearby Hadassah hospital. Good thing we didn't drink it!
HAIFA
On Day 2, we drove to Haifa, mostly to see the famous Baha'i Gardens. A place of pilgrimage for the Baha'is, the gardens go straight up the side of Mt. Carmel and have 1400 steps. Here is the Shrine of the Bab:
Here is a view from the middle:
A view from the bottom:
And a view from the very top:
We also tried to go to the highly recommended Museum of Clandestine Immigration but we were turned away because I had Arabic stamps in my passport and Yo said he lived on Shari'a Salah Eddin in East Jerusalem. Way to go, AMP and Yo.
We were so pissed off that we skipped town, missing the gondolas.
Overall, great trip! Thanks, Yo!
Driving in Jordan
During the past week I have hopped all around Jordan and Israel following the conclusion of the Arabic program for which I have been working this summer. Last Monday H, art historian friend from Cairo, arrived in town. We rented a car (aka the Chevy Freedom-mobile) and hit almost everything between Amman and Petra. This was my first time driving for an extended period in Jordan. I have several tips for those who might follow in my footsteps.
1. Avoid stopping in the Ghor Al-Hadith without male "guardians." H and I had spent the day at the Marriott Dead Sea, and then decided to head along the Dead Sea Highway until we hit the Ghor, from which you can pick up the King's Highway through old-guard tribal towns like Karak, Shobak (both of which have great castles), and Tafileh. Tafileh really has nothing great, and its residents are analogous to Cletus in bad Northeastern Brahmin humor (i.e. Why does the Tafilan Navy sail in glass-bottomed boats? Too see the rest of the Tafilan Navy.). Anyway, back to my original point. The Ghor Al Hadith is GHETTO. It's one of the poorest areas in Jordan. I've only been down there with Yo (a very tall man), and even then the shebab (young sex-deprived men) and the wild dogs that roam the area emerged from the woodwork to see what we were doing there. I normally would not have stopped with just one other woman in my company. But by then, H and I were running out of H2O and we needed to pick some up. I stopped at the first dukan I saw and went in to pick up some water. The galabiyya-clad shopkeeper was sitting at the counter with his wife and a baby. I busted out my Islamic greetings, a real exception to the rule, but I realized I was not in Amman anymore. All three looked at me listlessly, then the man got up to exchange the warm water bottles I had taken for two colder ones, for which I was grateful. I smiled at the baby. Then, as the man was changing my five pound note (he didn't even overcharge me for water like a lot of Jordanians do to tourists) I looked outside and saw our car, with poor little art historian H still in the passenger's seat, being rocked by 5 or 6 12-year-old boys who were yelling, "Money, money, money!" I turned to the shopkeeper and asked him with dismay, "Hathool awladukumm (Are those your children?)?" "Yes," he responded, then corrected himself, "Actually, just two of them." He did nothing to stop them. The car alarm went off. I rushed out and we beelined it down the highway, children trailing behind us, as I tried to figure out how to disarm the car alarm. A good half mile elapsed between us and the hellions, and I stopped to inspect the alarm further. No sooner did I get it turned off than they appeared again, and we sped towards Karak.
1.a. Similarly, when you reach Qadisiyya, go LEFT at the detour, not RIGHT or STRAIGHT.
Keep doors locked when you see Children of the Corn approaching.
2. Be careful on the road to Azraq. It is full of large rocks and Saudis returning home. They both drive like bats out of hell.
3. Watch out for animals on the King's Highway.
4. Count on paying an arm and a leg for gas. It's about JD 40.000 to fill the tank of a midsize car (about $60.00, way more than the last time I drove, which was in the States before oil prices skyrocketed).
Otherwise, it's pretty easy to get around and Amman, though full of windy, un-gridded streets, is pretty difficult to get lost in. We had a great time on our trip. Here are some photo highlights.
AMMAN
Jafra Cafe, across from the Post Office downtown:
Hashem:
RGB (which has a reputation as a gay club but which draws a wider crowd due to the fact that it has the best dance music in town):
Tannoureen:
Starbucks Drive-Thru:
Best peaches ever:
Near Rainbow Street:
Some very interesting graffiti:
DEAD SEA
CASTLES
Karak:
Hallabat:
Azraq:
Amra:
Harraneh:
PETRA
MADABA
It was great fun to have a friend visiting in Jordan (ahem, other friends minus H, this is supposed to make you feel guilty). All of the tourist stuff suddenly became fun again.
Hopefully this post makes up for my lack of posting all summer.
1. Avoid stopping in the Ghor Al-Hadith without male "guardians." H and I had spent the day at the Marriott Dead Sea, and then decided to head along the Dead Sea Highway until we hit the Ghor, from which you can pick up the King's Highway through old-guard tribal towns like Karak, Shobak (both of which have great castles), and Tafileh. Tafileh really has nothing great, and its residents are analogous to Cletus in bad Northeastern Brahmin humor (i.e. Why does the Tafilan Navy sail in glass-bottomed boats? Too see the rest of the Tafilan Navy.). Anyway, back to my original point. The Ghor Al Hadith is GHETTO. It's one of the poorest areas in Jordan. I've only been down there with Yo (a very tall man), and even then the shebab (young sex-deprived men) and the wild dogs that roam the area emerged from the woodwork to see what we were doing there. I normally would not have stopped with just one other woman in my company. But by then, H and I were running out of H2O and we needed to pick some up. I stopped at the first dukan I saw and went in to pick up some water. The galabiyya-clad shopkeeper was sitting at the counter with his wife and a baby. I busted out my Islamic greetings, a real exception to the rule, but I realized I was not in Amman anymore. All three looked at me listlessly, then the man got up to exchange the warm water bottles I had taken for two colder ones, for which I was grateful. I smiled at the baby. Then, as the man was changing my five pound note (he didn't even overcharge me for water like a lot of Jordanians do to tourists) I looked outside and saw our car, with poor little art historian H still in the passenger's seat, being rocked by 5 or 6 12-year-old boys who were yelling, "Money, money, money!" I turned to the shopkeeper and asked him with dismay, "Hathool awladukumm (Are those your children?)?" "Yes," he responded, then corrected himself, "Actually, just two of them." He did nothing to stop them. The car alarm went off. I rushed out and we beelined it down the highway, children trailing behind us, as I tried to figure out how to disarm the car alarm. A good half mile elapsed between us and the hellions, and I stopped to inspect the alarm further. No sooner did I get it turned off than they appeared again, and we sped towards Karak.
1.a. Similarly, when you reach Qadisiyya, go LEFT at the detour, not RIGHT or STRAIGHT.
Keep doors locked when you see Children of the Corn approaching.
2. Be careful on the road to Azraq. It is full of large rocks and Saudis returning home. They both drive like bats out of hell.
3. Watch out for animals on the King's Highway.
4. Count on paying an arm and a leg for gas. It's about JD 40.000 to fill the tank of a midsize car (about $60.00, way more than the last time I drove, which was in the States before oil prices skyrocketed).
Otherwise, it's pretty easy to get around and Amman, though full of windy, un-gridded streets, is pretty difficult to get lost in. We had a great time on our trip. Here are some photo highlights.
AMMAN
Jafra Cafe, across from the Post Office downtown:
Hashem:
RGB (which has a reputation as a gay club but which draws a wider crowd due to the fact that it has the best dance music in town):
Tannoureen:
Starbucks Drive-Thru:
Best peaches ever:
Near Rainbow Street:
Some very interesting graffiti:
DEAD SEA
CASTLES
Karak:
Hallabat:
Azraq:
Amra:
Harraneh:
PETRA
MADABA
It was great fun to have a friend visiting in Jordan (ahem, other friends minus H, this is supposed to make you feel guilty). All of the tourist stuff suddenly became fun again.
Hopefully this post makes up for my lack of posting all summer.
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