More than a year has swept by since I last dusted the soles of my shoes at the towering gates of school, since I took those wary first steps into the unknown world of higher education, making the daring decision of choosing to pursue the degree of Medicine over that of Mechanical Engineering, struggling to find a solution to the various challenges that came my way, with success being my foe at times and my accomplice at others. An annum of contrast and experience I must say, packed with emotions and thoughts that I would have found hardly possible at an earlier while. This, my dear readers, is a recollection of notable memories that I underwent, ranging from those first tastes of university life, to the mingling and integration into the Jordanian public, to learning how to drive in the bustling streets of Amman. As simply as the kind Jon Bon Jovi puts it, "It's my life".
I shall start this series of recollections by introducing a friend of mine who, I'm saddened to say, I no longer have contact with. It was a bright day, the sun was shining so boastfully on a blazing hot summers morning, I was approaching the old ticket booth at the Northern Bus Complex, more commonly known as "Mojamma3 Al Shamal", where I was to begin my journey for the first time to Jordan University of Science and Technology (JUST); little did I know that this would become my second home for the next six years to come. Ascending the squeaky steps of the 42-seat Hyundai bus and looking around, I found a seat next to a drowsy young lad who went by the name 'Omais'. It was honestly hard getting his name at first; interpreting his name as 'Anis' and 'Omar' didn't do me very well, so I ended up calling him 'M3allem' or 'Seedi' most of the the time. Omais came from a rough background, he was from one of the less well-off towns of Jordan called 'Mahis', and a second year Chemistry student at JUST. What made him stick out so vividly in my memory is the fact that he was so willing to help me on my first visit under no circumstances whatsoever; the determination in him was something I very much admired, and nothing I said would stop him from touring me around the university, let alone insist on buying me a Coke and Shawarma on his budget.
I admit the tour wasn't at all very fascinating, but it was more than I deserved. After permitting me to sit-in a refreshing air-conditioned lecture with him, I discovered Omais wasn't the brightest of students; on the contrary, he was rather the opposite, and was barely coping with his studies. To my utter shock, he had already received an ultimatum from the university, threatening to disqualify him from the upcoming academic year had he not passed in his subjects. Sitting at the cafeteria next to the university pond, the scenery was amazing; a cool breeze made it's way across the landscape through the withering leaves above us, ducks were quacking merrily unaware of their surroundings, and it seemed the weather had changed for the better. We were talking about each others' history and getting acquainted; he had an upcoming exam in an hour and was facing difficulties with problem solving so I decided to give my assistance where possible. 'Integration and differentiation', I thought. Had it not been for my ingenious A-level school teacher I would have been utterly lost in the subject. The last I heard of Omais he was planning on re-starting his studies at the Hashemite University in Zarqa, his attempts on convincing me that JUST was the most strict and difficult college in the country left me rather confused. At the end of the day, we bid each other farewell, and each of us went our own way; that was the last I heard of him. Omais was my first acquaintance at JUST, I honestly hope he is doing well.
From that I take you to the end of the first university semester. It was a fluid one overall, the subjects were ones I had covered previously in my A-levels, with the exception of Arabic, thus I didn't face much difficulty and spent most of the time messing around in Irbid, '3aroos Al Shamal'. I also chose to accommodate myself with a close and sincere friend I had made, named Ehab from the city of Nablus; we had met on the bi-articulated bus, popularly called 'Al Doodeh' translated 'The Worm', that leads from the Engineering Faculties Complex to the Medical Faculties Complex; I had unwaveringly sided myself against a group of elder students attempting to criticize the first-years, how exactly I honestly don't recall.
It was my pleasure one evening that I got invited over to a couple of friends' house in Irbid whom I had met from my Arabic class; arriving late on a daily manner and issuing my apologies so bluntly interrupting the lecture must have had something to do with it. We were coming close to the final exams, and these international students from Kuwait and Yemen approached me for some assistance with biology, as studying in English was somewhat of an obstacle for them. So I agreed to help-out and tutor them as much as possible. Escorting them through the suburbs of Irbid, we went through the city where students form a majority, the city which has gained global reputation for having the largest number of internet cafes per capita in the world as accredited by Guinness. The sun was gradually setting behind the oblique skyline of weathered stone houses, draped with dull laundry, with the scenting rich Arabian coffee emulsifying around us from the nearing coffee house.
Climbing the uneven concrete steps lined with crack-swarmed walls, a gentle wind made its way through the open window. The door opened with an enchanting creak and I was ushered with warm smiles into the house. The strongly fragranced incense had me coughing almost immediately, the smoky environment inside the house was one that had me with surprise, but I got accustomed, and soon I curiously began contemplating the Arabian floor-based furniture where the table was merely several inches above ground, something I found interesting. I was kindly gestured for, yes, Arabian coffee the Yemeni way, and although I claimed I didn't want to cause any trouble, my hosts insisted. The shining silver Dallah sparkled with life as it was placed on an extravagant fire upon the aluminum-covered oven. We comfortably sat down on a soft array of reddish-black Arabian-designed pillows on the floor, around a unique date-filled pot, a small plate of water used for washing 'daty' fingers, and the freshly-brewed coffee was poured by the hosts filling us with an enthralling aroma. At the creeping sound of silence, I remembered why I was there, and beckoning them to open their books, I attempted to begin tutoring.
TO BE CONTINUED...
