Author: Abigail Adgate

By: Magali Ortiz

After a week of researching street art in Amman, my eyes are constantly on the lookout for graffiti and murals. So when our group embarks on a road trip to Wadi Rum and Petra, it’s impossible not to notice the stray graffiti here and there on the side of the road. Even as we get into remote stretches of desert, the occasional structure that pops up is almost always tagged, marked by someone’s spray can. Only once do I see graffiti at the base of a rocky mountain. I add a note to my mental list of the unwritten rules of graffitiing: don’t vandalize natural structures. This proves true in Petra, where street artists have repeatedly tagged the little shops and stands that dot the long hike through the wind-chiseled rocks, but not the rocks themselves, which are already streaked with color. Near the top, just a few minutes from the monastery, I have to laugh when I see a tag by an artist I recognize – SINER, one of the most prolific graffiti artists in Amman. Of course he would bring a spray can to Petra.

It’s a fun game to play – once you know a street artist’s signature, you start spotting it everywhere. As we drive back into the city Saturday afternoon, I point out a piece by MIG overlooking the highway. He’s someone the whole group has learned to spot, not only because of his style and signature robot, but because he’s literally everywhere in Amman. When I interviewed him earlier in the week, he showed me his Google Maps app, where he marks every potential spot for his art. The screen is so covered with blue markers that in some places it’s difficult to make out the map underneath. 

Saturday evening, when I discuss the city’s street art with Sardine, he uses MIG as an example of how dedicated some street artists can be. Sardine, AKA Mike Derderian, has been in the graffiti game for a long time. We’ve been trying to find a time to meet since I landed in Amman, but it wasn’t until his art show that our schedules managed to line up. The show is hosted at F.A.D.A.317, Sardine’s studio and the only one in the city dedicated to street artists. Although he still goes out to spray paint frequently – Sardine’s characters can be seen all over the city – he has started to focus more on other art forms, such as his short film Geisha L.O.V.E., which debuts that evening. Nevertheless, he still knows everyone involved in Amman’s small but constantly growing street art scene. His show features collaborations with a variety of local artists, and during our talk in his office, he constantly mentions muralists and graffiti artists, often pointing out their art on his walls. Afterwards, when we venture back out into the art show, he introduces me to other artists, some that I’ve met, others that I only recognize from their art that I’ve seen walking around the city. Naji AlAli is yet another of the truly dedicated – his lemonheads can be seen all over, including at the entrance to F.A.D.A.317.

Walking back to our hotel from the studio through Al-Weibdeh and Wasat Al-Balad, street art adorns most of the walls that I pass. Some of it is the casual, fast work of artists like SINER or MIG, some are small murals done by the likes of Sardine or Yaratun, or bigger street art crews. On one busy street, you can find a host of murals by renown artists like Suhaib Attar, done during different years of Baladk, an annual street art festival hosted by Amman’s Al-Balad theater. Somehow, it has become second nature to recognize styles, signatures, tags. It’s my last evening in the city, and I’ve only been here a short while, but I feel a deep sense of familiarity with its walls. After all my conversations with artists about the future of Amman’s street art, I wonder what the city will look like on my next visit, and how the medium will continue to take hold in other cities like Irbid and Petra, as well as all the long highways in between.

By: Miles Guerin

In Jordan, the majority of university students are women. Though despite educational attainment, Jordan has one of the lowest employment rates for women; not just in the region, but in the world. In my research, I hope to understand what systemic barriers exist for women in Jordan, and better understand the sorts of initiatives NGOs and the Jordanian government are undertaking to help reach gender parity in the labor force.

After interviewing academics and USAID representatives earlier in the week, today we were conducting our first interview with representatives from the Jordanian government. With the sun barely risen over the many hills of Amman, we made our way over to the central office of the Jordanian Cooperative Corporation— a governmental organization set up to oversee the formation, regulation, and development of all economic cooperatives in the country. There, we met with a representative who spoke to the country’s current strategies regarding the development of the sector, and existing barriers to female labor force participation. The representative mentioned that while Jordan’s agricultural sector receives aid from USAID and related programs, what is really needed for expansion of the sector is technology transfer from the US and other donor countries. Additionally, while Jordan has a relatively large public sector, limited growth in the private sector has put undue pressure on hiring in the public sector. As a result, fewer women are being selected to fill positions in the cooperative sector.

In the afternoon, we made our way to west Amman where we met with the head of UN Women in Jordan. In our conversation, he covered UN Women’s current initiatives for increasing Jordanian women’s economic empowerment, as well as initiatives for Syrian women living in Azraq and Zaatari. In speaking with UN Women, we found that the largest barriers to women attempting to engage in the labor force are the lack of reliable transportation, cultural norms, but also the lack of opportunities outside of the public sector. Given funding limitations, UN Women has sought to work with the Jordanian private sector to expand equity messaging to seek foreign investment from impact investors outside of Jordan.

After a morning full of interviews, a group of us made our way back to the neighborhood of Jabal Al-Weibdeh where we embarked on a tour of the city’s vibrant street art scene. In Amman, it’s hard to walk more than a couple feet without seeing a breathtaking mural, or a tag tucked away in one of Amman’s many alleys and sleepy side-streets. The street art scene not only envelopes Amman in a dazzling palette of color, but also serves as an expression of youth that envision a more progressive Amman. Of the 50 or so street artists that are most active in Amman, 35 are women. So, while many barriers still exist in the country, the youth are seeking to build an Amman, to build a Jordan, that is reflective of country’s true diversity.

By Sofia Ladak

Today is our second full day in Jordan, which means that we are finally slipping into the rhythm of the city of Amman. We have all felt incredibly well received in this country, and are very much enjoying our time here.
Leo and I started off our day with the most incredible interview! We met with an NGO called Questscope which was founded out of the UK, and has a branch in Amman with an almost fully Jordanian team.

Leo started off the conversation focusing less on Questscope and more on trying to get a sense of the Palestinian identity in Jordan, as it just so happened to be that both women we spoke to were of Palestinian decent. It was extremely interesting, even for me whose research focus is quite different, to hear them speak about how much they feel they and their families have been able to integrate into Jordanian society, starkly contrasting some of the conversations Leo had had the day before.

Afterwards, we shifted over to speak about Questscope and their mission, which is to provide education, namely non-formal education, to more vulnerable populations around Jordan, including drop out and refugee children. One of the large takeaways I’ve been having from every interview is that there is very much a need to focus on the question of “what happens next?”. Jordan unfortunately has one of the highest youth unemployment rates in the world, and many organizations seem to feel that closing that gap has to be done through the private sector. Additionally, I’ve been finding it very interesting that most organizations work very closely with the Ministry of Education.

One aspect of the interview that really resonated with me was when I complemented them on the work that they’ve been doing. I was met with the response “but we are not happy” because they find it to be a sometimes frustrating and slow process. While they realize they are making a difference, it just takes more time than they would hope, which can often be the case with such NGO’s.

Moving forward in my day, I then went to my second interview at the Queen Rania Teacher Foundation. In all honesty, this was a less positive experience as they were not as welcoming or informative. It was interesting to see the contrast of different types of NGO’s, even considering their location as this took place about 30 minutes away from the city center in a large “Business Park” of many offices. Nonetheless, I was able to understanding how much they also work with the Ministry of Education; none of these organizations seem to operate independently. While I am aware that unless you align with the Ministry’s goals, there might be little you can do, I did not grasp from my research how much of a symbiosis relationship they really have.

As a result, my next goal is to be able to speak to the Ministry of Education, as they are much harder to reach than other organizations, especially for an in-person appointment. Inshallah it happens!

By: Carolina Hidalgo-McCabe

When I tell people what I’m researching here in Jordan there’s always some element of shock. In the US, people wondered how pigeons could be so important to fly halfway across the world to research. In Jordan, people often react with shock that an American is here to learn more about كش الحمام (pigeon keeping and breeding). Amongst the men I met today from the Gaza Jerash refugee camp and Zarqa, two cities about an hour from Amman, pigeon keeping is full of beauty and tension.

This morning, I met Omar, a driver who took Sofia and I around today, visiting family and friends who shared with us their love of pigeon keeping. كش الحمام is an ancient tradition that is practiced in many parts of the Middle East, including Yemen, Syria, Lebanon, and Egypt. Today, many men across Jordan, old and young, partake in the practice, contending with tradition and modernity. For some, especially those who don’t partake in it, كش الحمام is haram or forbidden in Islam. For others, it’s a hobby that brings community together, across rooftops.

We began by visiting Ali and Mohammed, young men who learned to take care of pigeons from their fathers. A friend of Omar, who joined us, shared that he considers it easier to give love to your pigeons than your children and that often, himself included, men love their pigeons more than their children. This is central to the storytelling I’m doing, where I’m focusing on the intersection of competition and care in masculinity. Pigeons are fragile and beautiful birds. They require significant care, and many men are willing to put the time and energy into this care, which happens on the leftover space of the domestic sphere: rooftops.

We watched Ali’s pigeons fly in circles above us as Omar’s friend shows me a pigeon auction happening on Facebook. Modernity and tradition. Pigeon keeping is changing because of social media, especially Facebook. This is allowing pigeon breeders and keepers to share their pigeons with the world. He says pigeons are like an addiction. It’s in his blood.

After descending the rooftop, we wind through the mountains of Zarqa to the Sooq Al Hammam, pigeon market, and converse with shop owners who share with us the peace that they feel when they watch their pigeons fly around them. It helps them relax after a long day. They look forward to going home, sitting on their rooftops with their friends, smoking argileh, and sipping on tea as their pigeons circle them.

Between pigeon visits we took a mansaf break (the national dish of Jordan) which we ate with our hands and spoons. Omar, his son, and friend continuously poured jameed over our parts of the communal dish and served us more and more lamb until it was impossible to keep eating. The hospitality is indescribable.

Stomachs full, we made our way to the Gaza camp in Jerash, where historically refugees from Gaza built new homes. It’s starkly different from Amman, with buildings made from materials that should have been temporary but have become permanent. Sheikh Mousa brings us up to his rooftop where he doesn’t fly his pigeons, and strictly breeds them. There are hundreds of pigeons of all types. To him, flying pigeons in a competitive way through كشالحمام is haram. As we sip sage tea and Arabic coffee, he shares with us the details of his job, selling and breeding pigeons. His dream is to have people from all over the world come buy his pigeons.

Over the course of the day, it was clear that there’s no one story when it comes to pigeon keeping in Jordan. It’s full of contradictions, not only in the way masculinity is performed on the rooftops, but also in how those who partake in the pastime perceive their own tradition. What’s clear, is that pigeon breeding and keeping is shaping the relations between and social perceptions of many men in Jordan today, and I’m so grateful for the many Jordanians who shared their homes, rooftops, and stories with me today.