Catching a cab in Amman

Life is like trying to catch a cab in Amman during rush hour.

This epiphany struck me just the other day while I was trying to just that. For those of you who haven’t been there, Amman in the capital city of Jordan, a small desert kingdom in the Middle East, definitely a developing country without oil or water or much of anything else to support itself. The city itself is a sprawl of similarly constructed buildings without any discernible planning or organization. There is no mass transit to speak of – the buses have no published routes or scheduled times, nor are there any official bus stops. You just figure out generally where they go and hail one that you think is headed in your direction, and get off when it seems to have decided to go elsewhere.

I don’t use the bus; I prefer taxis. They are extremely cheap compared to American cabs, and they are ubiquitous throughout the city. But they have their problems too. They are very well-used, since there is little alternative to getting around, and thus during rush hour 99% of them are full. And their drivers are a diverse and eccentric lot, to say the least. I met one who was a Canadian-educated engineer who spoke perfect English (don’t ask me why he was driving a cab); I’ve had many others tell me to cross the street and get a cab over there because I was headed in that direction and they didn’t want to have to turn around. Others have been alternately friendly, full of advice or admonition, or just plain rude. Many have tried to cheat me out of a lot of money (up to 10 times what the fare should have been), taking advantage of the fact that I was new to the city and didn’t know the ins and outs of cabs and where everything is located in the city. In brief, in four short weeks I have had the gamut of experiences with cabs in Amman.

One more thing about getting a cab in Amman. During rush hour, like I said, the cabs are nearly all full. And those who aren’t full typically don’t want to pick you up. I have no idea why. Plenty of guesses, but no real answers. The real answers probably vary widely anyway. The upshot is that you can wait – along a busy road, even – for 30 minutes or more with your hand out before a cab will stop to pick you up. I have seen literally hundreds if not thousands of cabs drive past me before one stopped to take me back to my apartment. And very often, after stopping, as soon as the driver sees who I am and hears me tell him where I want to go in my imperfect Modern Standard Arabic (rather than the local dialect, which I am only slowly picking up and have never studied) he shakes his heads, waves his hands at me and drives away, leaving me standing there like a fool who has no idea what just happened or why.

Let me share something about myself: I don’t like being rejected; I don’t like being made to look like a fool, or like I got duped because I’m some naïve, kid who is easily taken advantage of. But what I hate most of all is to have that happen while lots of other people are watching. I think everyone fears rejection, but I fear it more than most, and I’m absolutely terrified of others watching me get rejected.

The reason I’m telling you this is that I have to face exactly this fear every day after class when I want to go home. I’m tired, somewhat depressed from a hard day learning a hard language, and I want to retreat to the quiet, contemplative sanctuary of my apartment. Instead, I have to stand on the side of a very busy road with my hand out getting rejected by literally hundreds of taxis – all the while getting gawked at by everyone – those in their cars, those in the cabs, and those walking past me along the road. I mean, I’m the foreigner who looks lost and probably doesn’t know his way around – an easy target for stares.

It’s hard. Let me tell you, there are times when I wonder if I will ever get a cab, if this ordeal will ever end and I’ll ever get home. And when I finally do catch a cab (thirty long minutes later), I never know if I’m going to have to fight tooth and nail in a language I don’t speak well not to get totally ripped off and cheated. You just never know what’s going to happen when you try to catch a cab in Amman.

So how is this like life? In lots of ways. First off, it requires serenity of spirit and mind, and a great deal of patience. I remember a day when I lacked both, and after 10 emotionally abusive minutes in which several cabs rudely and condescendingly told me to cross the street because their cars happened to be pointed the wrong way at the moment, I stormed away, angry and hurt, to find some meager degree of privacy where I could recover and get ready to try again. Other days I’ve had serenity and patience, but boy could I feel how much I was using and needing both.

Getting a cab in Amman is also unpredictable, just like life. You never know what kind of cab driver you’ll end up with – could be a jerk; could be completely indifferent and silent; could be extroverted and talkative; could be friendly, caring, and interested. He could try to cheat you for all your worth. Or he could treat you with perfect fairness – or more.

Some of these experiences are unpleasant or downright hurtful. I hate being cheated, but far more than that I hate the feeling I get when I know the person across from me is trying to cheat me – that he or she has malicious, hurtful intent, and that it doesn’t even bother them to feel that way about me, someone they have never met before. I hate having to get in their face, stand my ground, and call them out on their lies and mean-spiritedness. I hate calling people out on their bad behavior – it embarrasses them and therefore embarrasses me.

So I’ve come to hate taking taxis in Amman, because I’m afraid of those hurtful situations. I’m afraid of the public rejection and I’m afraid of interacting with people who bear me ill will – who are actively trying to hurt me and treat me poorly. In fact, I dread going to class in the morning (when it’s much easier to get a cab, and they tend to be nicer) because I know that if I do I will have to go through the ordeal of trying to get a cab home in the evening.

Getting a cab in Amman has therefore taught me this life lesson: because life is unpredictable and you never know when you’re going to have a hurtful encounter you have to put some space between your feelings and others’ actions. Even if the person across from you is trying to hurt your feelings, you can’t let them. You have to create a buffer between their intent and your reaction that absorbs the venom and neutralizes it before it reaches your heart. Otherwise, you’ll find yourself fearing and avoiding life because of the fear of being hurt. What a tragedy that would be, fearing life while living it!

Finally, getting a cab in Amman during rush hour has reminded me that life isn’t all bad! The other day, after 20 or 30 minutes of watching people stare at me as I stood there with my hand out, supplicating for a taxi, one finally stopped. When I got in, I immediately knew I had lucked out. He understood my less-than-perfect Arabic, knew where I wanted to go, and then asked me where I was from. We had a friendly conversation for the length of the ride. It was obvious he was doing more than making conversation; he was legitimately interested, and I could feel the goodness of his intentions. He corrected my Arabic mistakes and told me about himself as well. When we reached my apartment he asked for no more than what the fare ought to have been. I had a broad smile on my face and said a sincere “thank you.” He said goodbye using my name, and really meant it.

I had a glow in my heart that after that encounter that lasted all evening and that erased all the weariness and uncertainty of the day. Life is like that. You have to take it as it comes. But there are wonderful encounters ahead of you, mixed in with less pleasant ones. The trick is not to fear, but rather to hope. It is in becoming strong enough to endure the offenses of life, with an attitude of hope for the marvelous encounters that fill it with light, that makes life beautiful.