Musings on Being Connected

What does it mean to be connected?  Connected to whom?  Is it important?  How are we connected when we are thousands of miles apart? 

In the late 1980s Ed and I went off sailing for 2-1/2 years.  In the dark ages (before internet), when you were gone, you were really gone.  Sure some sailors used satellite phones, but they were unreliable and VERY expensive.  Our longest passage, from Fogo, in the Cape Verde islands to Barbados, was just under 14 days.  During that time the only sign of human life that we saw was the jet contrails from trans-Atlantic flights.  We did not see any ships as we were not in the shipping lanes.  Two days out from Bridgetown, we picked up a radio station.  As we listened, the reports of traffic congestion made us even more aware of how disconnected we were. 

At that time we were connected to the people back home primarily by postcards and letters and the very rare phone call.  We once made an $80 phone call from the Gambia in West Africa to California to order essential boat parts.  Phone calls to chat were clearly out of the question.  My sister received our mail in the US and periodically we received a packet from her, often at an American Express office.  When we arrived in Barbados on February 14^th, the packet contained our Christmas mail.  We sat on the boat, in the blazing sun, and enjoyed greetings and news from people that we had not seen for close to two years.  And we felt connected.

Today, connections are so much easier.   I want to talk to my sister in Arizona.  No problem.  For about 31 JD ($43.70) per month we have a fast internet connection in our apartment and for a nominal charge with Skype I can dial her anytime.  Well not really any time.  We are ten hours ahead of her and although I have no doubt that I am her favorite sister, she does not want me to wake her at 3AM to chat.

Jordanians are totally connected by their cell phones.  Jordanian government statistics report that 98.5% of all households have a mobile phone.  Another report indicated that there are more than 10.7 million mobile phone subscriptions, which is a penetration of 146%, indicating that many businesses have switched from landlines to cell phones.  One of the first things that we did was to get onto a phone plan here.  Without a mobile, you might as well not exist.  Although I have exchanged phone numbers with a variety of people, I am still surprised when it rings. 

Bedouin Girls and Camels

Bedouin Woman and Susan

Learning to speak a few Arabic words has also helped us to connect to my new colleagues.  After almost two months I can Insha’Allah with the best of them.  I have learned to never say “see you tomorrow” without adding Insha’Allah (God willing).  I feel very connected to my teaching partner, Dr Inaam.  From the first day we worked together to plan our qualitative research course, I felt connected.  We come from different cultures, different religions, but as nurses and educators, we have many similar ideas and attitudes.  I am confident that my connection with her will last long after I have returned to Boston.

Connections can also occur with people who only speak Arabic.  Only a few blocks from our apartment, on the route that we take when we walk to Fulbright House, a man in a traditional robe and red Jordanian kaffiyeh is always sitting near the sidewalk.  The first time we saw him, Ed had his camera.  Ed pointed to the camera and then to the man.  At first we thought that he was saying no to the picture; in fact he was getting up to pose.  Now when we see him, there are smiles all around and he shakes hands with Ed.  As is customary among Muslim men who do not shake hands with women, he bends his right elbow and places his hand palm down near his heart.  The connection is made between two nationalities, between two religions, between two (or three if you count me) people.

Man in our Neighborhood

Bedouin Man in Tent with Tea

Email is also a wonderful connection.  Because I am only on leave from Curry College, I still receive all of the general distribution emails.  I feel connected to my colleagues when I see ‘baby news’ and notices for events that I would attend if I were in Boston.  Personal correspondence by email also keeps me connected.  It ranges from the trivial things that we would say in passing to the important messages that will impact my life when I return.  Occasionally we have the fun of real time email, when two of us are on line at the same time. 

Luckily we do not have to rely on snail mail here as they do not have postal delivery to the home.  If you want to receive mail, you need a post office box.  (Fulbright House has a PO Box, but we have been told that mail can be a bit unreliable so I have not even bothered to give it to anyone.)  There are no mail boxes on the houses or mail slots in the front doors.

There are so many ways to be connected that it is virtually impossible to keep up with them all.  Some prefer Facebook or Twitter.  I prefer to write my blog and to email.  We are still connected this way with people that we met when we were sailing, long before anyone ever dreamed of the internet.

Connections to the bigger world are pretty easy as well.  Want to read the Boston Globe?  No problem, just a bit slower than flipping the paper pages.  Headlines, as defined by MSN?  No problem, right there when I log on.  We can even get Netflix by going through a secondary site.  Radio comes to us via internet.  Just as at home, we can listen to our favorite London classical music station. 

The English language version of the Jordan Times, delivered daily except Saturday, connects us to the world through the lens of the press.  We receive news of the Middle East in a way that would not be seen in the US press, not better or worse, just with a different focus. 

At times I am nostalgic for the post cards that connected us in the past.  When our parents were alive, Ed and I sent postcards from everywhere.  We saved a few stamps from most of the countries we visited when we were sailing (occasionally we forgot) and made a poster when we returned home.  One of our favorite post office purchases was 200 miles upriver from Banjul in the Gambia.  At a small table in front of a shack, the postmaster sold us stamps with Mickey Mouse on them.  We skeptically handed in our postcards, expecting that it was unlikely that they would reach our parents in Ireland and the US.  We were wrong; they did arrive.  Here we have never even seen a post office but we haven’t tried to find them.

Connections here, connections to family and friends back home.  So easy and so wonderful.  Thanks to all who have emailed.  We appreciate the time that you take to stay connected with us.