

Written By: Naseem Tarawnah
Parliamentary elections are officially up and running now. The first two days of candidate registration saw 916 names and as Lina points out, 15.8% of which are women. That's a pretty decent percentage in my case, considering that the majority of that number are from fairly conservative cities like Irbid and Kerak. Although it's yet to be seen, I'm betting that the voters are really going to get shortchanged this time around with the unnecessary women's quota.
In a survey conducted by Al-Ghad shows that voter turnout is expected to be at around 70% of which 76.5% claim to be voting for an independent candidate and 8.0% hoping to vote for a party candidate. These results are very similar to that of a similar poll conducted back in June for the municipal elections. Parliamentary elections of 2003 saw voter turnout... 
The author, a long-term resident of Luweibdeh, describes the book as a necessary cultural guide, to highlight the richness of the Jabal that is right in the downtown yet has its special system, local economy and societal rhythm.
Quna starts the guide with a specially-drawn map of Jabal Luweibdeh, highlighting its cultural centers, churches, mosques, public buildings, political parties, associations, embassies and much more. He says the Jabal is a mesh-mash of activity comprising a living society of schools, medical centers, a hospital, hotels, pharmacies, galleries, restaurants a well-known theater and a library frequented by the people of Luweibdeh, professionals, workers, artists and novelists who fall in love with the architecture of the place.
The... Written by Philip Mainwaring
[Editor's note: Part three of three. Read part one and part two.]
She had not reappeared on this visit. Now that Abu Nimr had a house of many rooms I presumed that she was cloistered away upstairs in some private corner. Abu Nimr organised the pouring and serving of coffee. He wheezed rhythmically as he set about arranging the cups deliberately, with those familiar, decisive movements of his long, elegant fingers. I took out the gift I had brought and placed it before him; the red Swiss army knife that he had asked for. I had had his name engraved on the plastic handle, in Arabic. He took it from me silently with a short nod of his head. In the midst of his newfound riches he turned the knife over and examined it in minute detail with a thin smile playing on his...