As previously revealed I live in a third world middle eastern country named Jordan; now Jordan is culturally divided into three factions; the overwhelmingly enormous Hafartali faction, the large America Wannabes' and the small "ordinary" faction that sits in the middle terrified of the other two. The "ordinaries" are, well, normal people; head scarves are optional, they change outfits every once in a while (I will get back this later) and listen to both Arabic and English music without complain. Basically they are normal.
The American Wannabes' refuse to listen to Arab music, chase down brands relentlessly, refuse to do
anything not sanctioned by the GREAT STATE OF 'MURICA and (possibly most horrifying) dye their hair neon blonde.
But this is not about the large but minority group of American Wannabes', nonono this is about the average Arab individual you will see in the capital, this is about what we call the Hafartal
The average young Jordanian male has two pairs of footwear, one pair of slippers (changed every few years for reasons of hygiene), and one pair of pointy black shoes for weddings. He will also have a variety of ugly shirts with sweat stains and a couple of football tees of his favorite player or team. If he is classy he will have one cheap tux. He will have at least one vat of extra large hair gel, one comb and one pair of knockoff Ray-Bans that he will use for fancy occasions such as dates, the sunglasses will always be the strange droopy style that only very hairy men perceive as attractive. He will have numerous pairs of crappy jeans and two pairs of shorts; one football themed, one not. He will always have a 5:00 shadow no matter how many times he shaves and will style his hair spiky until it falls out at the age of 30, at which point he will begin to look like Danny Devito but without the charm, and with a pedo-stache. He will shout many catcalls at passing young women, literally translated these are usually "Whats up, duck?!", "What are these curves, female goat?!?!" and (this next one is pretty old, I heard it from my grandmother) "Your love is in my heart like the dancing of mules!!!"
Women in the Hafartali faction are a little bit harder to pin down, often they are divided into three groups; Ninja, Scary and Lebanese Secretary. The Ninja group are those women who wear plain black curtains, black gloves, and look hilarious when eating spaghetti.
The Scary group is composed of large, elderly, married women sometimes in headscarves, decked out in single color mumus who look suspiciously manly and scare the ever-loving shit out of me. They remind me of escaped convicts hiding out.
I know that name might seem sexist but I have never seen them work as anything else, ever. They are young women (usually the recipients of the catcalls) who fake Lebanese accents and wear jeans so tight I am surprised they can move without a wheelchair, decked out in every type of makeup and are constantly on the phone, but the funny thing is that many of these women wear headscarves and do not quite get the idea that very long hair and a headscarf do not go together and proceed to tie their hair in an "uber death bun" which bulges out the back. They remind me of Ki-Adi-Mundi from Star Wars.
The American Wannabes' refuse to listen to Arab music, chase down brands relentlessly, refuse to do
anything not sanctioned by the GREAT STATE OF 'MURICA and (possibly most horrifying) dye their hair neon blonde.
The average young Jordanian male has two pairs of footwear, one pair of slippers (changed every few years for reasons of hygiene), and one pair of pointy black shoes for weddings. He will also have a variety of ugly shirts with sweat stains and a couple of football tees of his favorite player or team. If he is classy he will have one cheap tux. He will have at least one vat of extra large hair gel, one comb and one pair of knockoff Ray-Bans that he will use for fancy occasions such as dates, the sunglasses will always be the strange droopy style that only very hairy men perceive as attractive. He will have numerous pairs of crappy jeans and two pairs of shorts; one football themed, one not. He will always have a 5:00 shadow no matter how many times he shaves and will style his hair spiky until it falls out at the age of 30, at which point he will begin to look like Danny Devito but without the charm, and with a pedo-stache. He will shout many catcalls at passing young women, literally translated these are usually "Whats up, duck?!", "What are these curves, female goat?!?!" and (this next one is pretty old, I heard it from my grandmother) "Your love is in my heart like the dancing of mules!!!"
Women in the Hafartali faction are a little bit harder to pin down, often they are divided into three groups; Ninja, Scary and Lebanese Secretary. The Ninja group are those women who wear plain black curtains, black gloves, and look hilarious when eating spaghetti.
I know that name might seem sexist but I have never seen them work as anything else, ever. They are young women (usually the recipients of the catcalls) who fake Lebanese accents and wear jeans so tight I am surprised they can move without a wheelchair, decked out in every type of makeup and are constantly on the phone, but the funny thing is that many of these women wear headscarves and do not quite get the idea that very long hair and a headscarf do not go together and proceed to tie their hair in an "uber death bun" which bulges out the back. They remind me of Ki-Adi-Mundi from Star Wars.
