the shape makes me think of a wooden tear drop and i have to admit at first i wasn't completely struck by its sound. it was a foreign voice to me.
the teacher's room at school is a realm of its own i feel at times. and so entirely different from how work rooms in the States would be. during the two daily recess periods, a large tray of tea glasses and a large kettle of tea is brought out accompanied by a large pot of sugar. fresh mint leaves are sometimes brewed with the tea which leaves a deliciously sweet and subtle aroma steaming out of the kettle. that's usually the morning breaks. the afternoon breaks are spruced up a little more strongly with smaller arabic kettles of harsh, strong turkish coffee being served in tiny, miniature cups. the turkish coffee needs to be served in cups that small because each sip is like taking 10 espresso shots. it's better to not serve them in glasses or normal sized cups.
tea and coffee is served and everyone takes out their mini sandwiches to munch on, usually the round pita bread (except calling it pita bread is unjust because this bread tastes about a million times better because its just so darn soft and delicious) stuffed with cheese, or cucumber and tomatoes or humus. or a pack of biscuits is ripped open. if one person opens a bag of anything, be it a small bag of chips, or cookies, or nuts or whatever, they go around the entire room asking everyone if they would like one. it is such a sweet gesture. and everyone freely just helps themselves to a piece. it's a small gesture of hospitality that i think says volumes. i am uber appreciative of it when my stomach is grumbling a little more than usual by break time.
and so with each teacher coming in and out, also comes in and out different personalities. there are the older, traditional, conservative Muslim men teachers, dressed in stiff and crisp suits that never interact with the females who sit on the other side of the single long table in the room. there are a handful of first year young teachers and women teachers, ranging in age from a nice spectrum of early 20s to maybe early 50s, who chit chat away (about things that i dont understand).
my favorite is the music teacher. he's got crazy hair and i love it! and he brings his Oud to school every day and every Tuesday he takes it out in the teacher's room to play a tune that everyone in the room knows. and that sends the room in a subtly comical but extremely sweet and melodic trance. teachers sometimes shout out suggestions for him to play a tune, and there was even ONE time when i saw one of THOSE stiff, and traditional muslim men teachers who not only was softly singling along BUT for a split second he put up both of his arms to snap his fingers and dance a little. i gloat to have caught that moment because the next time i see mr. no smiling man, i think to myself, you dance and laugh after all, just like the rest of us.
those are the times that i REALLY wish i knew arabic. i want to understand the words that everyone hums along to with so much endearment and attachment. these are not pop songs, but decade old songs about nature, struggles, or life in palestine or the arab world. i have to ask for translations sometimes, but coming from a background where english is not my first language, i know that so much meaning is lost in translation, especially with songs or words of poetry. words can sometimes be translated, but emotions attached to those words certainly can't.
Somehow, this instrument, so unique in its voice and sound, speaks so much as its sound are strung out by hands that have taken ample amount of time to know it. It sweeps everyone off of their unrelated daily tasks and brings them together to literally sit together, and sing with it.
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