Kusa wa Warek

Sitting in a Starbucks, humming along to the Aretha Franklin song wafting out of the speakers (You make me feel like a nat-ur-al woman!), I could be in any city in America. When I walk out of this café, the impression remains. To my left, a gargantuan Zara entices with its stylish dresses and soft florescent lights. To my right, a Gap. The street my school is located near is called Sharia Wakalat and its pedestrian mall is laden with Western shops and restaurants. Down the street is a Safeway, the same store I bought all my groceries at when I was living in D.C. this summer. You can even buy Amy’s organic soup there. I know it is partly the neighborhood I’m in and also the fact that I have been here for less than a week, but most of the time I just can’t shake the feeling that I’m living in deep American suburbia. It doesn’t feel like the “third world” or a “developing country” (both of which Jordan is considered). It doesn’t even feel like what I now expect the Middle East to feel like. The cars are shiny and new, the price tags in stores seem to assume a salary of at least $30,000 a year, and the streets are clean and well maintained. The Jordanian Dinar is stronger than the dollar right now and all of a sudden I am back to being a broke student. Two weeks ago, if you had asked me which city was likely to be more Westernized, Amman or Cairo, I would have answered the latter with no hesitation. In a way, this highlights the inaccurate portrayal of the “Far East” that we are bombarded with by the American media. But even as a student studying the region, I expected a vastly different country than the one I have found myself in. Half a year before I was supposed to return to America and I think I am prematurely going through some form of reverse culture shock.*

For this reason, and many others, I am really glad I am living with a host family. Although fairly well off and also part of the mere 5% of the population in this country who are Christians, when I am with my Jordanian family I am able to retain a sense of being in the Middle East. They speak constant, rapid-fire Arabic, Jordanian TV is the backdrop to most of our daily activities, and they are a great source for learning about Jordanian customs.  And even though it is in a completely foreign country and it is people I have just met, it is a home. It feels like a home; cluttered but clean and comforting. It sounds like a home; with three children (a ten year old, a nine year old, and an eight month old) and a frequently visiting grandmother, there is rarely a quiet moment. It looks like a home; familiar faces and welcoming smiles greet me when I walk in the door. It smells like a home; every home has a distinct scent that lingers on your clothes and in your hair even after you leave. And boy, does it taste like a home.

Rowah, my host mother, is an excellent cook and despite having a demanding and time consuming job as a manager at a large pharmaceutical firm, she always makes sure there is food ready for me before I leave for school and when I get home. Hikmat, my host father, contributes a dish every now and then and even Hulla and Marrah (10 and 9, respectively) can often be found in the kitchen, mixing something up. Last night they proudly led me to the fridge to show me the dessert they had prepared (ground cookies mixed with water and covered in sprinkles) and we gathered around the living room table to eat the vegetable soup and fried potatoes they had made for us. And little brother Fadi brightens every room with his smile and laughter. A happy baby in a full kitchen does wonders for the soul. 

Both my host mother and father are Jordanian (an important distinction to make, as about half the population here is Palestinian) and so I have been treated to very classic Jordanian dishes since I arrived. I moved into the apartment on Thursday evening. Friday is the day off in the Middle East (like our Sunday) and lunch is the big meal in this culture. I woke up late Friday morning and wandered into the kitchen, where I found a big project underway. 

A huge metal bowl sat filled to the brim with vibrant green Kusa. I have never seen this vegetable in the United States (although I’m sure it is possible to find it) and it is most commonly translated here as zucchini (which calls to mind slightly inaccurate taste associations). After scouring the internet, I finally discovered that it seems to be most commonly called “Lebanese Squash” or “Lebanese Zucchini” in English. In my opinion, the taste is much closer to squash than zucchini. 

Also on the table was a big pot filled with vine leaves (Warek) and a huge platter of the stuffing that was to be wrapped in them. 

This stuffing is also what goes in the squash. It consists of cooked rice, margarine, uncooked ground beef, salt, and pepper. 

I sat down between to my host mother Rowah and my host sister Marrah and watched as they expertly rolled the vine leaves into perfect tiny packages of deliciousness. They showed me how and soon enough I was rolling along with the best of them! You start the process by putting a small amount of the stuffing at the base where the stem spreads into the blade. 

Next, you fold the side corners in over the stuffing, sort of like a burrito.

Finally, and this is important, you tightly role the leaf from the bottom to the top. If you don’t press hard enough or wrap it tight enough, it will come open while being cooked. 

Rowah prepared a huge pot, filling the bottom with chunks of fresh tomato, and piling the Kusa and Warek in layers to the brim. This particular cooking device is some sort of special steamer/press. She has promised to show me how it works sometime. 

This mixture is put on the stove and left to simmer and stew for an hour or so. When it is ready, you can cut through the Kusa like butter. With help from her husband Hikmat, Rowah dumped the entire pot onto a gigantic platter in the center of the table. 

Rowah served me a helping on a plate with some meat she had cooked separately, but only because I was still new to the household. 

The rest of the family simply sat around this huge circular serving dish with spoons and dug in. This is how most things in Jordan are eaten. This culture really brings a whole new meaning to eating “family-style!”

The Kusa can also be prepared in tomato and garlic stew, but I’m still a little vague as to what exactly all goes into it. I'll try to find out more and get back to you. Regardless, it is delicious. It is slightly stronger in taste than the other preparation and comes with the added bonus of a delicious sauce to dip your bread into!

*I’m certain I would have far greater “re-entry shock” had I returned home. A friend of mine and Fullbright Fellow who I went to school with in Alexandria, Ryan Fan, was just evacuated back to America on Friday, Febuary 4th. He did an excellent post on his blog about the difficulties in adjusting back to American culture. You can read it here.