The Compound

We've arrived at the school, swept and mopped out the classrooms, made them somewhat liveable, swept, mopped, and set up the shower block, caught a nap here and there, had dinner, been given further pep talks, and are now settling down, probably for an early night. Tomorrow is going to be a big day, up at the crack of dawn, to take a walk around the various sites that we'll be excavating.




The school we're staying at is Hartha Secondary Comprehensive School for Girls, with the added complication being that the girls aren't quite on holidays just yet. Which means we have to be well and truly out of there by 8am, and can't return till just after 12. To make matters worse, the girls will be in the midst of their Tawjihi exams (spelling uncertain), THE event that will probably determine the rest of their lives, whether they get in to University, or whether they miss out and either try next year, or settle for whatever life will throw at them.




The site's been christened the 'Hartha Hilton', but for me its "The Compound". I'd initially dubbed it 'Long Bay', after Sydney's famous prison, but I think that's being a bit facetious, not to mention disparaging and unfair. I'd initially described the facilities here as so primitive that it was laughable, but you know what, I've grown to so love the place that I'm loathe to make light of any resources that would be considered "sub-par" by our western standards. Besides, so far the mood is good and I believe we're getting into the spirit of community here.




The fact that we have no WIFI at this stage (oh horror of horrors), or more concerning, the fact that the water supply truck hasn't turned up yet (its close to 9pm) has added a bit of concern for those in charge, but I like the jovial resilient vibe that's currently settled over the compound, and for better or worse this'll be home for the next four weeks, and for most of us even longer. And the fact that we had a sensational meal certainly helped, cooked by Ibrahim and Maad (father and son), who'll be our resident live in cooks for the duration of our stay.




Ibrahim in particular is quite the character. Really old school, cooks with a cigarette in his mouth, an inch and a half of ash ready to drop into whatever rice/soup/vegetable casserole he'll be slaving over. I'm glad people like him still exist in the world.

Incidentally, I just had to stop typing for five minutes whilst Maad laid his mat out just two metres from me and began his prayers, kneeling, bowing, then standing, then kneeling then bowing, then standing, whilst facing the local mosque, about 300 metres down the road from us ( I can see its minaret lit up by green lights overlooking us in the distance). I'm sure he wouldn't have minded me continuing to tap away whilst he was praying, but it just seemed rude to do so, and I was happy to have a breather. He and Ibrahim are now busy chatting and chain smoking with Khalid, (Sufjan) our hired security guard/caretaker - yes, we have a security guard, although he certainly doesn't look the part. I noticed a little mattress in the security box at the gate of the compound, so it looks like he's going to be a part of our little family as well, though Dr Bob at dinner made it known that he doesn't have a key to the building...and left it at that.




Luke just come out and offered me a water bottle. Very nice of him, but I already had one by my side, in plain view. Then I saw what he was really offering. This little beast had just been caught in Dr Bob's quarters. It's getting more and more surreal. Jennifer at dinner tonight jokingly asked Dr Dave if he'd consider having the dig filmed as a reality TV show. The scorpion seems like the perfect way to kick off the episode.

Now I'd initially written up this paragraph dedicated to our toilet block, describing it as a sight to behold. Plenty of comments about squat toilets below showing heads, and you remember my toilet in Amman, you should see this one. Though not meant to be disparaging, it would be easy to read this as if I was taking the piss (ha ha, toilet block, taking the piss!! Aren't I hilarious!!) I'd taken photos to post up and everything, but you know what, I'm loath to write anything that would come across as some condescending westerner sluming it in the middle east. And the fact that I've even written that last sentence reveals all anyway.




So, no horror stories about toilets. I will say, however, that thankfully, Pete has designated the final three cubicles as strictly for showering, the rest will be toilets only. They've been nicely set up, with a waste paper basket to one side and a water jar for "flushing" on the other. Definitely NO toilet paper down the bog. I grabbed a couple of guys earlier this afternoon to assist with mopping out and bleaching the place, after he's attached hoses to all the taps to set up the makeshift shower heads. There's no 'ladies' and 'mens' here, its one sex fits all. The locals would be having a fit if they knew. Its hard enough for them to comprehend the fact that this group of theoretically unattached ladies and gentlemen from the US would be living together at all, let alone in an environment like this.

Which brings me to the status of our place in the community. The Abila project has been using this school as base of operations for at least the last 15 years, but have been digging here since the 80's. The village has now become used to this mysterious group of Americans who once a year or two will live here closed off from the rest of the community. That's not to say we're completely isolated. Dr Dave and Dr Bob have over the years established themselves as regular identities in the village, and the village as a whole looks upon this group with curiosity and warmth rather than suspicion.

Nevertheless, Hartha is still a conservative village in a conservative country, and we need to be careful with how we conduct ourselves, both inside and outside the compound, in order to assure that we don't offend any delicate sensibilities. Once again at dinner we were reminded that, when leaving the compound, our attire must be conservative and respectful. No shorts, no revealing clothing. Since hospitality is such a huge part of their culture, people will probably ask us into their homes for dinner. Once again we were reminded of the protocol for politely declining before knowing when to accept the offer. The same applies to the locals that have been hired to assist us digging at the excavation.

The call to prayer has just rung out again over the minaret's speakers, and following this what sounds like an icecream truck can be heard driving up and down the street, interspersed with more call to prayer. Call to prayer is beginning to sound more like call to bed. It's just hit 9.30, time for this little vegemite to consider sleepy-time. What a day! What a place. What a crazy crazy arrangement I've gotten myself into. And I'll I can do is sit back and chuckle, take another swig from the ever present water, lament the lack of a beer (no big deal, really), and get down to business...




Ha ha. Dr Bob's just come down, very apologetic. He'd seen earlier the amount of time I'd spent sweeping what would be my room, mopping the room, taking all the chairs out, and setting up the tables that would serve as the base for my mattress, and generally trying to make it as livable as possible. He's promised the cooks a room to sleep in, and they need one to themselves, so can I ask you to move to another room?

Welcome to the Hartha!!!!
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