Germans, Armenians, Kurds, Palestinians, Turks

We went to a concert of the Jerusalem Youth Orchestra in Amman this evening. The very many yellow heads we saw before the concert started turned out to be members of the University of Bonn Orchestra (whom I had listened to in Bonn- and that is another long story. Memories of fleeing Giessen and the train diverted through Mainz while I was reading a thriller with Mahler as the protagonist, in German, mind you) They played Khachaturian operatic pieces concerning the Kurdish Ayesha and Armen. Then there was a very sad Palestinian song with the refrain Sara, Sarai.
The Turkish presence was not limited to me and my friend- I had spoken to H of my suspicions that the kanun and ney music soundtrack of the opening audiovisual was Turkish, and the suspicions were verified when we saw the contents of the CD's they were selling outside with piece names such as Hicaz Longa, and the names of two Turkish musicians. I am pleasantly surprised. There isn't half enough cultural bridges between the two countries.

Turks, Jordanians, Circassians, Armenians

Having listened to an Armenian soprano singing the 'Room With a View' arya last night at the Roman theatre in Amman and having decided that the red haired violinist was of Circassian descent, here's a note on Armenian connections.
Firstly, Tariq Ali suggests that Salahaddin's family is from a village in Armenia though they themselves are Kurds. (note: visit to Ajloun castle is called for) And then I find out about Janset Berkok Shami, an Amman based writer, Jordanian, raised in Istanbul in the early days of the republic and then she finds out about her Armenian heritage.
The Circassians are still elusive, I will have to phone their center. Chechens, however, are accesible in Azraq.

The Art of Losing

(To the tune of Wish You Were Here)

First
I lost my Baedeker
then, my Herge

But you Harriet,
shall always remain here

The Secret Sharer

I see men going into battle
in their flying colours
waving their apologetic goodbyes

their battles for fame
their battles for love
and their battles for territory

and I
pin little flags
on my map of invasions
here a country, there a temple
here a river, there a gorge

and long after the battle is done
I am called to sift through the ruins
as they tell me their stories of conquest
and surrender

I, like Harriet, watch the men go by.