Bedouin hospitality is well known to foreigners as well as town Arabs, who assimilate many of the practices into their own culture, but maintain that they are “Bedouin” practices. (In the Arab social imaginary, the nomad’s desert seems to fill the same role that the Wild West does in the United States. But more on this when we address the regional TV phenomenon, Bab al-Hara.) That such hospitality originates from what is perhaps the Earth’s most hostile terrain is more logical than it seems at first. If you were removed from settled civilization, would you be more interested in money or company? The notion has reassuring implications for human nature. Maybe man fears loneliness more than his fellow man or even death.
The myriad tea invitations you will encounter on this trek testify to the endurance of these customs. If you are conversational in Arabic, drink tea/coffee, and/or smoke cigarettes, it is in your best interest to accept whatever invitations you receive. Of course, you do not have to accept every invitation in spite of those who say it is rude to turn down an invitation as such. Bedouins may be insistent, but they are not so stupid that they do not understand when someone has to get to camp before sunset. Of course, they may offer to put you up for the night. If you are not so inclined to accept, memorizing several mujaamilaat (“pleasantries”) and repeating them several times will smooth over any awkwardness. (Some good ones to keep in mind are hayak allah—“God grant you long life,” and baboos idekom—“I kiss your hands.”) Westerners are often taken aback by the hospitable gestures they encounter everywhere in the Near East, and indeed travelers in Arab cities long enough will encounter them there as well. However, there is a certain relief to being out of the town or the city where all relations seem to be commoditized at some level, and this applies to towns and cities in the West as well.
Limits of Bedouin hospitality: Ali 'Charlie Brown' walks from herders after trying too hard to befriend them.
What may have been the true mark of this hospitality was the presence of Israeli tourists in the valley. We ran into only one group of about eight on our trek, but it seemed as if we were always in the shadow of Israeli tourists. Local Bedouins would always assume we were Israelis by default and not treat us any differently as a result. Some of these same Bedouins even referred to Ber Sheeba as their original home, though without specifying the conditions of their relocation. Whenever we were asked if we were Israeli and then viscerally and immediately answered back no, a habit many students here develop, we were often greeted with a look of surprise by our interlocutors who could not seem to understand our virulence on the matter. Israeli tourists have frequented this valley since the 1994 peace accords. However, their destinations in Jordan appear to be out of the cities for the most part. Hence, the valley remains a little known arena for cross-cultural interaction.
Coming soon: Vignette #3, Sand Cat Epic
