LOST IN TRANSLATION

The morning of the eighteenth of June 1980 was my first time to walk in Dickson Street in Fayetteville, Arkansas, which runs east and west. It is the main street that leads to the University of Arkansas. The Physics building happened to be located on the south side of this street so I did not have to inspect maps or asked for direction. Several strangers greeted me as I was walking slowly to make sure I do not commit foolish mistakes. I was surprised by having a total stranger looking at me and say “ good morning ” with a smile, which gave me the impression of a very friendly town. Greeting by strangers is difficult to encounter in big cities. As I was walking west and crossing West Avenue, I noted a large old building with a cowboy portrait painted on the west side facing the railroad that runs south and north. The setting at that moment reminded me of a cowboy town similar to those I watched in cowboy movies. Tumble weeds and horses were the only things missing from the scenery. About two decades later, the large building with the cowboy image was demolished and Walton Art Center was erected in its place. Entering the physics building was somewhat shocking because the floor was concrete, worse than the side-walk. I met the first professor (Salamo) in the hallway who greeted me by saying “ howdy partner ,” an expression I heard so often in cowboy movies while living in the Middle East. Hearing this salutation expression gave me the goose-bumps and started thinking of guns and shooting. I end up liking the building and the professors at that time. The department head (Pederson), who became my Ph.D. research advisor, offered me a summer teaching assistantship, which I needed so badly since my funds were almost depleted by the time I arrived at Fayetteville.

Working during the summer of 1980 was more or less like a vacation and I took this opportunity to customize myself and tailor my behavior to the new environment. The summer funding was short and did not sustain living needs at that time. I sought another employment for about two weeks pulling chicken guts in one of Tyson plants in a nearby town (Springdale). That was an awful job, where the whole town smelled like chicken. Most of the workers were students from whom I heard bad words used occasionally by the locals. Starting the Fall semester was a good relief and from that time I enjoyed the rest of the program. I thought I had the worst accent in the department, but there was a Chinese professor that almost no one could understand him lecturing. In one of his lectures he introduced a “ pesoodoo vector ” and I could not figure out what he meant. I asked other students, but no one knew the term. We searched the chapter very carefully and end up locating “ pseudo vector ,” where the “ p ” is silent. That was a source of enjoyment for the bunch of us for a while.

My office-mate was an Indian student (Tarlok Aurora) who arrived about two years before me, so he was my senior at that time. Tarlok had a wicked sense of humor even though he was somewhat religious guy (Sikh) who never got his hair cut, which was kept in a turban. He was specialized in locating stores with big sales where he would buy several pieces of clothes to send to India for less than a dollar a piece. He kept these sources confidential to himself even though no one was interested in purchasing such merchandise. He briefly dated a divorcee with a young son. I advised him to abort this relationship because he could not afford a wife with a child. His reply was “ This is like McDonalds, buy a big Mac and get a second one free .” In a late summer, Tarlok broke an ankle and about a week later he broke an arm. I helped him on several occasions and also convinced him to get his hair cut so it would be manageable in his condition. I do not know if he ever forgave me for taking him to have his hair cut since it was a big sin for a man with his faith to commit the crime of cutting or shaving hair, but he appeared to enjoy having a short hair and did not grow it back for many years.

I met my wife and had the first daughter while I was still graduate student. My wife grew up in Mississippi and at that time she was still in contact with many of her friends. My graduate research was focused on the use of ultrasonic technique in solids. My wife announced our marriage to her friends who became very curious about what I do for living. One of them asked her “ tell us about your husband .”

“ Well, he is a Palestinian .” My wife informed the friend.
“ Ha, that must be a very good job .” The friend added.

This short conversation was a source of enjoyment for years to come. On another occasion, a friend asked my wife about my work.

“ What does your husband do for living ?” The friend asked.
“ He is working with ultrasonic .” My wife replied.
“ Is this another Sonic fast food or a new store ?” The friend questioned.

Again we still have a laugh every time this story comes about. Another hilarious situation arose from my own family. Writing letters to my mother, who was living in Palestine, was the best communication method for me in the early eighties of the last century. It happened that I contributed a few dollars to an organization conducting research on emphysema. In return to my small contribution, I received few free address labels with the expression “ fight emphysema ” written at the bottom of each label. I used these address labels on letters sent to my mother. On the other hand, she does not read or write so she usually asked a relative to write reply letters to me. The address of one of the letters I received was as follow:

Omar Manasreh
Department of Physics
University of Arkansas
Fayetteville, AR 72701
Fight EmphysemaThe letter was stamped by the Post Office asking to correct the name of the country. This incident continues to pop up into my mind every time I see someone walking around with a bottle of oxygen to help breathing.

When my first daughter (Sarah) was born, she was almost a replica of my wife. With all the excitement of having the first child, I called my mother telling her the big news. She asked me to describe my daughter. So I started describing her as having blue eyes, fair skin, blonde beautiful hair, and…, but I was interrupted and overheard my mother on the phone saying to others sitting nearby that my daughter is really a foreigner. Perhaps I need to domesticate my daughter at a young age before she grows up to be a wild foreigner, I told myself quietly. Sarah grew up to have a very unusual sense of humor at a young age. She attended Montessori Kindergarten and reported to us many witty stories. For example, she told us of a new girl who cannot speak English and nobody would talk to her. We encouraged Sarah to talk to and play with this little girl. The next day she came home very excited about being able to talk her. We asked Sarah “ What did you say to her ?” I just talked in her language and said “ bala bala bala .”

Sarah did not like games, such as the “ Heman of the Universe ,” “ Shera ,” or the “ Wonder woman .” She invented her own games. I went to pick her up from school and I noted the whole children running around in the playground following her commands and signals. When I asked what type of a game she was playing, she replied “ The power kitty of the universe .” She invented other games to play with her little sister, such as the “ The tree dwelling martin ,” “ Great blue Heron ,” “ The gray wolf with a broken leg ,” etc. She attended a class dealing with wild animals during weekends at a Nature Center. On one occasion, we were waiting for her outside the classroom and one of her teachers came out complaining that she cannot teach the class. When another teacher asked for the reason, she said Sarah answered all the questions with lots of details and she was left with nothing to say to the other kids. The teacher did not realize we are Sarah’s parents, but that was a source of pride for a while.

Visiting my father-in-law in Indianola, Mississippi, once or twice a year was a family tradition. He moved to a different house and we decided to drop for a short visit at his new home. The first thing I noted in that neighborhood is how the mailman delivered his load to mail boxes. He walked between houses by performing a balancing act on the railroad tracks snaking along the street. He would stretch both arms horizontally on both sides of his body and started his acrobatic act walking on the railroad tracks. He seemed to enjoy his act walking between houses. Socializing in Indianola is unavoidable anywhere one might go. Sarah was playing with a small ceramic toy in a shape of a dog at a doctor office in Indianola. The nurse noticed the dog and said “ that is a very nice dawg you have there .” Sarah replied “ this is not a dawg, it is a dog .”

Our children loved animals and collected many books dealing with animals’ habitats and behaviors. Performing some activities at farms outside the town was enjoyable experience for many parents and their children. For us, it was almost a weekly activity going to a farm outside Dayton, Ohio. The children learned lots of things about animals and farming. Farms were always crowded with children running around while parents chasing them especially around Halloween time frame. On one of our trips to a farm, I overheard a mother yelling at a group of young girls wearing scout uniforms “ All brownies come here .” I thought there was someone passing free chocolate brownies and I told my wife I was going to pick up few. She laughed and asked me to stop being a Bedouin.

Omar Manasreh
10 July 2008