It's Friday afternoon at the Faculty, about 15:30. The building is quiet, only a few students reading in the atrium and someone humming an Arabic passage in the office above mine. I'm coming to appreciate the echoey building with painted tiles, wooden corridors, and ancient-looking stone pillars. Especially the atriums, whose glass ceilings, even on gray days like today, let in a lot of light. The building has two large atriums, both with a large fountain in the center. The larger fountain (see last photo in this post) is adjacent to the sanctuary, where prayers occur several times a day. My little office looks out on the wide marble atrium floor, and at one o'clock I watch the students and faculty gather for prayer, the women on one side, the men on the other. Standing close together in rows, I watch them alternating between standing, bowing, and kneeling as they listen to the cantor (I should learn the proper word for this here.. next week's task...). Men pray inside the sanctuary however because it is such a small room, several pray (like all the women) on a large Persian rug spread out outside of the sanctuary. At the end of the prayer, people le scuffle to find their belongings and shoes before running off to their next class. It's fascinating to watch how the space is so simply and quickly transformed to accommodate these brief moments of collective prayer and then equally fascinating to watch the instant return of the "rushing to class" energy and excitement, typical of any college campus.
The building is essentially constructed around these two atriums, or large open public spaces (classic Ottoman style I am told). Offices and classrooms surround both atriums on two levels, located along narrow wooden hallways with Persian carpets and intricately painted walls. The toilets, I will admit, here have taken some getting used to. They are fancy ceramic holes, with a flusher and also a little hose to rinse off the area after one's completed the chore. Flip flops are also provided in case one doesn't want to dirty the shoes. The whole thing is actually quite lovely now that my leg muscles are firming up to the task. The soap at the sink is made with grape seed oil. Tis' very refreshing.
Everyone at the faculty has been MORE than accommodating, kind, and generous, and in general, very friendly. Many people want to talk with me, just to practice their English conversation. I have three official classes of first-year students, who I meet with once a week as well as a group of about ten second, third, and fourth year students who will begin meeting weekly for conversation. The assistant professors have also requested a weekly meeting in addition to three full-time faculty members and one full professor who requests some proofing assistance for his articles. All this in addition to my "community project" (oye. more on this... later. much later) should leave my thumbs little time for twiddling. (As no famous person ever said, "you can twiddle when you're dead.") For my students, and the faculty wanting to improve their English, I am impressed since their coursework is already loaded with languages. At FIN students study Arabic, English, and often German. Some know Spanish. Thinking about what is demanded of them, especially when it comes to learning other languages so that they can stay up to date in their field is a great way for me to feel extraordinarily dumb. But I digress. It is a privilege to be here. Although I've only had two weeks, and it is definitely drawing a lot of energy (I haven't even mentioned how much lesson planning I have to do), it is so worth it. I am happy to give my time to them. I've been received with the utmost kindness and respect. I'm still shocked I have my own office. Even if the internet is spotty, is a quiet private space to work. Sigh of relief.
Last week Rasheid drove Dina and me all over the city on Friday for me to get the appropriate documents, stamps, receipts necessary for my white card and visa application. The Office of Security for foreigners was located waay on the other side of town, on the fourth floor in the back of a random building. As we turned off the main road into what appeared to me to be a construction site, than traveled up several flights of stairs, passed a furniture store(?) and into a hallway with a tiny office at the very end of it where a single man sat with a lit cigarette, stacks and stacks of files behind him. I actually thought we had entered the matrix and I had chosen the red pill. It was that kind of journey. Thank goodness for Dina and Rasheid Just the thought of trying to navigate the visa process with extremely limited Bosnian was enough to make me sweat. And Dina agreed, this is not just hard for foreigners to understand. The bureaucracy in Bosnia is a mess. "You must know how to talk to people," Dina told me as we left the last building, "this is not easy."
A bit more about my students. They are 18 19, and perhaps a few of them are 20. Like all students, it is a mix of personalities - some are talkers, some are shy. In general they seem to be a curious, engaged, and thoughtful bunch. The question I posed at our first class "tell me something you did over the summer" proved challenging for many but still I learned that three(!) of them had successfully memorized half of the Qu'ran. The other students were very excited about this news as well. I somewhat stupidly shared with them I once memorized Edgar Allan Poe's The Raven but this really seemed quite insignificant in comparison, although a few of them said they had heard of Edgar Allan Poe...
It's nearly five o'clock here now (these posts take some time often due to slow internet) an the building is almost entirely empty. Oddly, people clear out between 3 and 4 o'clock. I feel like a major work-a-holic for staying until 5. Ha. What a contrast to American workstyles. I also just received a text message that there will be no classes on Monday due to the Muslim New Year. So signing off to start my long weekend.
Vidimo se. (Farewell greeting which literally translates to, " we will see each other.")
Last week Rasheid drove Dina and me all over the city on Friday for me to get the appropriate documents, stamps, receipts necessary for my white card and visa application. The Office of Security for foreigners was located waay on the other side of town, on the fourth floor in the back of a random building. As we turned off the main road into what appeared to me to be a construction site, than traveled up several flights of stairs, passed a furniture store(?) and into a hallway with a tiny office at the very end of it where a single man sat with a lit cigarette, stacks and stacks of files behind him. I actually thought we had entered the matrix and I had chosen the red pill. It was that kind of journey. Thank goodness for Dina and Rasheid Just the thought of trying to navigate the visa process with extremely limited Bosnian was enough to make me sweat. And Dina agreed, this is not just hard for foreigners to understand. The bureaucracy in Bosnia is a mess. "You must know how to talk to people," Dina told me as we left the last building, "this is not easy."
A bit more about my students. They are 18 19, and perhaps a few of them are 20. Like all students, it is a mix of personalities - some are talkers, some are shy. In general they seem to be a curious, engaged, and thoughtful bunch. The question I posed at our first class "tell me something you did over the summer" proved challenging for many but still I learned that three(!) of them had successfully memorized half of the Qu'ran. The other students were very excited about this news as well. I somewhat stupidly shared with them I once memorized Edgar Allan Poe's The Raven but this really seemed quite insignificant in comparison, although a few of them said they had heard of Edgar Allan Poe...
It's nearly five o'clock here now (these posts take some time often due to slow internet) an the building is almost entirely empty. Oddly, people clear out between 3 and 4 o'clock. I feel like a major work-a-holic for staying until 5. Ha. What a contrast to American workstyles. I also just received a text message that there will be no classes on Monday due to the Muslim New Year. So signing off to start my long weekend.
Vidimo se. (Farewell greeting which literally translates to, " we will see each other.")