When I was told the proper way to eat in Jordan is with hands, my childhood teachings immediately took over.

Food represents the history and traditions that help shape a country, and many Jordanian dishes are based on a Bedouin heritage that has been passed down family lines for generations.

The Bedouin are the nomadic ancestral people of Jordan that once raised goats, sheep and camels, and they also moved spices and goods across the vast deserts in large caravans. Everything in Jordan, from the language to familial relations, is affected by this proud Bedouin lineage.

One common Jordanian custom taken from ancestral Bedouin life is inviting strangers into their homes to eat with their families. Many Bedouins would share what little water and food they had due to the harsh climate in which they lived.

To Americans, this is a very strange concept.

Americans don’t invite strangers into their houses. Even from a young age, they are told not to trust strangers. But since I have arrived in Jordan, I have experienced this tradition many times.

The first time was with my 28-year-old friend Mohammed. Mohammed was kind enough to invite me to his house just because I had never tried mansaf before, even though I barely knew him at the time.

When I arrived at his house, his mother welcomed me like I was one of her sons. She placed a large plate of rice and chicken in front of me and then poured a special olive oil broth over the top.

Looking around the table, I noticed there was no silverware. Mohammed said he wanted me to learn how to eat mansaf the traditional way: with hands. Roll the rice into a ball, rip off a piece of chicken, pack it all together and throw it in your mouth.

Mohammed did this with ease and didn’t spill anything, while I struggled with the “packing it all together” part. I looked like a 3-year-old with rice and chicken all over the place.

While I ate everything on my plate, Mohammed’s mother heaped even more rice and chicken in front of me. As anyone that knows me will attest, I eat a lot of food. But after downing three mound-like servings, I was stuffed and had to wave off a fourth serving in fear of getting sick.

In Jordan, it is seen as a compliment if you eat a lot of food. It means that you enjoyed your host’s cooking. Needless to say, Mohammed’s mother knew I enjoyed her cooking.

As the country’s official meal, mansaf represents a part of Jordan’s national identity. Not only is mansaf a delicious dish, Jordan is the only country that makes it.

Customarily, mansaf is made with the head of a sheep. The most important person at the meal sits in the middle of the table and always eats the tongue first. After that, everyone else is allowed to eat.

After we finished eating, Mohammed’s mother brought us tea, which is customarily served after every meal, although Jordanians enjoy drinking tea and coffee at any hour of the day.

Since that day, Mohammed has routinely invited me to his home for meals. I feel as if I’m a part of the family. They always ask how I am feeling to make sure I am not sick or have any problems. Mohammed calls me his brother, and I call his mother “yow-ma,” local Arabic for mother.

When I asked Mohammed why Jordanians are so hospitable, he said. “We are not rich in oil, but we are rich in the heart.”

Stephen Sydor is a junior international relations major. His column appears every week in Pulp. For more information, he can be reached at srsydor@syr.edu.

Published on March 13, 2013 at 10:11 pm