Zorabeh (zorA-beh)[noun, v. zoreb]: (Jordanian slang) to continually, dangerously and aggressively change lanes while driving a car at crazy intervals, in very short distances, and at (relatively) high speed.
SYN: batwen.

Several reasons contributed to why I decided to go to school in Jordan rather than abroad like initially planned, and one of the very main reasons was a mighty appealing bribe- if you go to Jordan, I was told, you can have your very own car.

Ah, my very own car. How can anyone say no to that?

The first time I ever got into the driving seat of a car was on the first of August 2003, a day after I turned 18, which is the legal driving age in Jordan.

I was a perfectly hopeless case; I spent my first whole hour behind the wheel trying to figure out how to balance the various pedals in such a way that the ancient stick-shift Mazda actually stayed turned on. It didn’t move an inch that day.Two months on and after forty hours of learning to gawwem on Amman’s steep hills, I magically passed the driving test on my very first try.

A couple of weeks later, sometime early in October of the same year, my bribe was delivered- the most beautiful navy blue 1700 CC stick-shift 1994 Mitsubishi Lancer.

Unfortunately, my relationship with the Milkyway (as my brothers lovingly dubbed the Lancer) coincided with the first week of my freshman year at Jordan University. Here came the problem; most of my real life driving training had to be done on the worst street that anybody could possibly start their driving career on- University Street.

For those who don’t know, University Street is a literal circus of psycho bus drivers bullying the hell out of regular sedans with their humongous size, sociopath taxis stopping at random and unaccountable for intervals, and hoards of kids thinking their cars can fly to get to class on time. Not to mention, of course, all the idiots crossing the street. This chaotic circus resulted in a daily DREADED hour where I spent gripping the steering wheel of the Milkyway so tightly that my hands would begin to ache.

As they say, only the insane are sane in an insane world, and I realized that the only logical thing I could do, knowing that I will still need to drive on that street daily for the next four years, was to force myself to lose my intimidation by starting to drive as insanely as the buses, the cabs, and the kids.

Thus was made a conscious decision to take up the “Chuffeir Taxi” persona as soon as the seatbelt was buckled in place. In that persona, I became very aggressive, making a willful effort to do everything that I was taught not to do, like needlessly switching lanes back and forth “just for fun” so fast that it’s hard to believe that I didn’t frequently lose control of the Milkway. With this fast lane-switching, the need for using signals disappeared, my hand became overtly comfortable with the horn, my tailing techniques developed, and my “safe distance” became barely two feet at 80 km/h.

A little later on, I had mastered the art of zorabeh, and kissed my intimidation away (ma3 il gal3a).

(Un-) Fortunately, I became too comfortable with what was originally intended to be a phobia lifter, and the “Chuffeir Taxi” persona became my actual driving style for the years to follow.

Today, four years on and already wallowing over the fact that I’m so going to miss the hustle and bustle of University Street when I graduate, my aggressive style has lessened dramatically thanks to the my 1300 CC automatic Lancer which I got 2 years ago. You really can’t do anything with an 1300 CC machine; it’s very frustrating, especially on University Street and while fighting with other cars on Madineh Circle. Now I resort to hand gestures or rolling the window down and screaming, “EISH MALAK YA ZALAMEH! Meen il7mar il salamak sayara?!”

It’s really a very vicious circle- the public transport system drive like fools and they force the next generation of drivers to start driving like them in order to avoid feeling intimidated, thus bequeathing the arts of Zorabeh, aggressive driving, and the famous Jordanian driving kashra.

You know, all those jokes about prepping the face with a frown before buckling up the seatbelt in Jordan are actually true.

(26)