Mansaf

Northern Desert, Jordan

Sallah--my adopted Bedouin father--had commented for the past few days that tonight's dinner would be special. "We're eating mansaf," he explained, "It will be prepared in your honor."

As we sat in his tent drinking tea, I realized I knew next to nothing about this mysterious dish, only that it was the national dish of Jordan and an indispensible part of Bedouin culture. Curious, I looked up the root in my dictionary, "n--s--f."

Surely I had the wrong root. "n--s--f" meant "to pulverize or to explode." Confused, I closed my dictionary and decided I would see for myself exactly what mansaf was.

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I had been watching the sunset outside, when Yassar--one of my host-brothers--told me that the mansaf was ready. Intrigued, I shone my flashflight on the ground to find the path back to the tent. This was the fourth day, and I had become familiar with the trail that a few days ago had been indiscernable--a series of boxes, bushes, and pits. I found the last tall box and knew that the tent was just off to the right. I turned my flashlight looking for the door.

Thankfully, I succeeded in turning my imminent scream into a gasp. "Shu?" asked Yasser. I realized immediately that I had to bring myself together, or I was going to offend my family. I took a deep breath, and tried to explain that I was simply suprised to see a bloody goat's head at the entrance of the tent.

"It's in your honor," Yasser continued. "Usually we put it in the center of the mansaf plate itself, but we thought that as an American you might find that strange. So we put it out here instead." I stared at the glazed rectangular eyes that had just a few minutes prior watched the same sunset I had just seen, entirely unaware it was its last. Staring at the brown markings on the head, it had a striking resemblance to Dawood--one of the goats had I had named during my shepherd duties the day before. But I had named a lot of goats, and as I stared at him more closely I doubted it was him.

"Shukraan," I murmed in thanks to Yasser, glad that the darkness hid my expression.

Inside, my other brothers and Sallah were circled around an inconceivably large plate of rice and meat. I recalled my confusion looking for the meaning of "mansaf" a few hours prior. Now I realized that an "explosion" described mansaf perfectly. "Yusuf, sit," called Sallah, addressing me by my Bedouin name.

The plate was the size of a trashcan lid--perhaps bigger--and was placed on a larger mat. I begin to sit on it when I was told to stand again. I stood. "No Yusuf," explained Sallah, "Get under it." All at once, my brothers stood up and tucked themselves under the mat. I realized with horror that it was a giant bib.

My father recited the bismallah ("In the name of God, Most Compassionate, Ever Merciful") and everyone began to eat at once. Taking large pieces of bread from under the plate, the men used it to pick up rice and meat and take it to their mouths. I shyly withdrew a spoon from my pocket (which I had kept just in case) and began to poke at a ball of rice near me. I realized that I had to eat it or I was going to offend my family who had prepared it "in my honor."

Realizing my peculiar habits, Sallah picked up a piece of goat--I don't know which part--broke it, and threw it across the plate towards me. "Yusuf," he proclaimed, "Akal." Eat.

As I picked up the piece of goat in my hands, I realized how distant my life in California seemed. My life there--built upon an obsession with cleanliness and a commitment to vegetarianism--felt like it had set with the last sunset Dawood would ever see. I moved the goat meat to my mouth.

Yet as I bit into the bone, I felt like I was tasting the sweet nectar of sin.

"Zakiiy iktiir," I offered in Jordanian colloquial. "It's very delicious." I tried not to think that "it" might be Dawood.

I ate a little more that night, but soon discovered that one smile was equivalent to three mouthfulls, so I plastered a smile on my face to let everyone know that I was well-satisfied with the meal prepared in my honor.

The plate, finally, was clean. Sallah reclined and proclaimed, "Praise be to God, Lord of the Worlds."

The meal was over.