I have definitely been spending too many hours consecutively with my Jordanian families. They are all kind and loving and wonderful, but they also have different ideas for…well, almost everything…and it’s starting to wear me out. There seems to be a common culture here in Jordan that it is everyone’s job to tell everyone else what to do ALL THE TIME! I know they do it to each other, but days in a row of being ordered around is starting to wear on my American Freedom-Loving soul. Mostly I just like to be the bossy one!

So, what are they telling me to do? Well, where to start…

• Correcting my Arabic—this one I appreciate, I have many faults and I like to be told when I’m using the wrong pronunciation or phrase in a given sentence. However, there are some who will start drilling me “bread…bread…bread…bread…bbbrrrrrreeeaaaaaaad!” At times it reminds me of the scene in “Better off Dead” when Ricky’s Mom is pinching the Monique’s cheeks like a chipmunk and saying “frrrriiiiiieeeennnndssss.”
• How to eat—and I don’t just mean if there is a meal with which I’m unfamiliar, I mean, trying to force me to eat more (one husband got so riled up he started yelling at his wife to go cook something that I’d like better because I could only eat four pounds of rice and chicken instead of the 7 pounds they all were eating) no matter how many times I tell them I just can’t eat the quantities they do! Eventually a lot of the women start to understand and their “eat, Lexi, EAT” gets a bit less fanatic, but the men seem to take it personally and get so upset! It’s bizarre. But amount is only half of it, it’s also telling me what to eat and when. For example, the meal just began and I will take a bit of bread, immediately it’s “Lexi, eat this chicken!” before I have finished the same bite it’s “Here, have some soup, eat this date, here are eggs” as if I can’t see or identify the food in front of me. They will take food from their side of the common platter and pile it up on my side like an eating contest! Then, once they’ve told me everything I must eat immediately, it’s also how to eat it: “Lexi here’s a spoon for the soup…Lexi here’s more bread for the sauce…Lexi here’s the spoon, see, I told you use the spoon for the soup!” I swear, if they didn’t do it to each other (well, they only do it to guests and they only do it a TINY bit compared to how they do it to me) I would think they think I’m retarded. I think sometimes they figure since my Arabic isn’t perfect I am retarded.
• How to cut a tomato—seriously, when I help cook, or clean, or anything, I am incapable of doing it correctly. It’s a hell of micro management. “Lexi, see how I cut the tomato, push the knife forward, not backward, and slice it first then cube it!” Actually, they’ll often just take something away from me, like the broom or squeegee and send me to the other room to move furniture or stir the pot—something I can’t do wrong (except I did stir the milk incorrectly and had to be reprimanded).
• How to style my hair—yes, especially those who have coarser more African hair think I don’t style mine correctly. They are always trying to put gel or hair pomade in my hair because it gets too “frizzy” by their standards. One woman tried to pour olive oil in my hair immediately after I’d showered because she thought my hair wasn’t stiff enough. This is just scary!
• How to sit, lay, or in general be—ok, I get that around men I have to have a blanket or something covering my feet or ankles if they stick out of my pants/skirt. I can handle that. But people are constantly yelling at the kids to get me a pillow whether I want one or not, and then instructing me to lay back or sit up, stretch out or curl up, literally they will grab my ankles and pull them down if they want me to lay on the couch. Seriously, they think I can’t figure out how to be comfortable on my own!

Ok, I think that’s enough examples for you to understand how exhausting it can be! Sometimes I get so irritated I have to snap “I’m not a kid, I can decide [how I want to sit/how much I want to eat/how to chop this tomato/etc.]”!!

That said, I am very happy to be heading back to my own house where I can lay or sit or stand or do somersaults without someone telling me what to do and I can eat as little or as much as I want without making someone so offended they erupt in angst. Truth is, they do all this because they want me to be comfortable and to do everything the “right” way–they like me.

So, just maybe, it’s worth it!