There is no denying that all modern cities are morbid to one degree or another, but morbidity is of a particularly “fine” and ancient pedigree in the case of Amman.
I had previously came across few non-academic historians who puzzled over the brisk cycle of civilization rise and fall, common to all the communities that once populated this city. Several of them propounded seismic activities as the answer to this question. But in thinking that other enduring cities (Damascus, Beirut or Jericho for instance) were subject to those same disruptive forces, this proposition is weakened if not ruled out.
A more convincing hypothesis alternatively points the finger at the bodies of water that once covered Amman's surfaces. Allured by a varied profile of water sources, from eddying rivulets to crystal clear ponds, many unsuspecting settlers met dreadful ends at contracting lethal waterborne pathogens that those waters were teeming with. This might come as a surprise to most of Amman’s contemporary denizens, but what can be even more surprising is that she was dubbed “The City of Waters” during past epochs. Such a name was equally valid during the early stages of the current cycle, i.e. 40s and 50s of the 20th Century, echoes of which still reverberate in the modern Ammani vernacular, attesting to this fact.
In current times, despite being a parched stretch of land, Amman still wields the weapon of water against her inhabitants as skilfully as she always did, albeit in different ways. Few days ago I was wandering outside my home when I noticed that the pain I had in my limbs due to a blowing cold wind was not the usual pins and needles type, but had a rather smouldering quality to it. Suspecting this was due to low relative humidity, I checked a weather forecast application expecting a reading of about 20%. But I was taken aback on learning it was a nadir of 12%. It is not the type of pain that bothers me, nor the fact that the skin around my left hand knuckles is more shrivelled than my mother’s octogenarian aunt’s, not that much. It is only the cracked bleeding skin I get if I fail to apply a moisturizing lotion the night before; a problem that I know for sure plagues many other fellow Ammanis.
The city gets even more creative with that favourite weapon of her. She also capitalizes on the fact that no water means no or very little greenery. According to evolutionary psychology, in assessing the hostility or hospitality of a certain environment, humans are most sensitive to its state of vegetation. If that was scant, some mechanism, so to speak, ensues, which in turn induces the secretion of stress hormones in the perceivers. This produces a feeling of angst that serves the purpose of urging them to move away in a bid for survival. However, since the business of survival in the Amman of our times is not related to its colors anymore, this mechanism joins the long list of misplaced, backfiring evolutionary endowments. I think this partly explains the stressful modes of interaction dominating in this city. But there is more to that than having to deal with pissed off people all day, and night, long. Prolonged stress also deprives our bodily repair mechanisms and immunity system of energy essential for their proper functioning, leaving our bodies debilitated and exposed before all kinds of sickening things, animate and inanimate.
Still, no matter how ruthless the rendition has been so far, outdoor Amman is a merciful mother when compared to its indoor manifestation. This conviction I formed during a couple of courses I took on the subject of built environment, and a subsequent short lived career in the same field. Under the rubric “Sick Building Syndrome” among some others, I learned about the havoc an ill-designed enclosed space can inflict on the well being of those who occupy it over lengthy periods. And through practicing I was introduced to the “standards” of Jordan’s construction contractors and designers.
I remember the troubles I used to get into for pointing out the necessity of sticking to the ASHRAE standards in designing indoor environments. Almost all of the seniors scoffed at the idea, and the few who did not take it as an insult to their “long careers that began before I was even born”, bantered that those standards were only for “the pansy people of the first world”, which I think was their rather churlish way of referring to the relatively pristine health states that citizens of the developed countries usually enjoy. Ironically enough though, if the ASHRAE standards were to be modified accordingly, then they should be made tighter and stricter for people living in developing countries, since they are more prone to illness and are of less robust constitutions, as research on socioeconomic pressures is already showing.
I also remember laying my hands on the HVAC schematics – pronounced “h vak” and is shorthand for heating ventilation and air conditioning – of a major mall in Amman. What I saw was so horrible that I immediately took a decision to never go there again. Since I can’t name it, due to some ethical obligations, I will only hint that it is probably the largest one in Amman, and few minutes into entering it you are likely to feel giddy and start yawning, both caused by hypoxia. A caveat is due here. The presence or absences of these signs alone is not adequate to judge if the place was ill or well designed. If air filters were not replaced per the right recommendations, for an example, they become a major source of contamination, and the first sign will most likely be a sore throat the day following exposure.
To be fair though, malls are not to be worried about as much as homes, since it seems to me that the concept of a comfortable house environment in Jordan never evolved from a rudimentary one of warm during winters, and cool in summers. There is no reckoning of humidity regulation and ventilation, despite the fact that a built space without proper air renewal and circulation can be 1000 times more polluted than the outdoors. Almost everything inside a typical compartment, including walls, generates unwholesome volatile grains that are likely to precipitate in your lungs for good, and this is probably responsible for the varied assortment of pulmonary disorders rife in Jordan.
It would be interesting to calculate the economic burden of Amman’s inappropriately designed spaces. Naturally this should include both the energy and health bills. But since this post is about morbidity, I find it more appropriate to focus on the later. However the dearth of data on the subject makes it impossible to even draw a sound conjecture, but by thinking in terms of a well defined phenomenon, such as seasonal allergies, we might come close to appreciating the fiscal strains that Jordan faces as a consequence.
From personal experience I know that a reasonable treatment for pollen allergy costs around 35 JOD per person (actually a bottle of efficient nasal spray costs around 48 JOD). Assuming 3% of the total population is afflicted with this ailment and seeks treatment, the annual cost stands at 6.3 million JOD. This type of allergy probably comprises no more than a fraction of the total aggregate of diseases, respiratory and others, caused by contaminated air. But it at least helps us imagine the total taxation on Jordan’s GDP due to our local engineers unprofessionalism.
For all of what preceded, I sometimes think that since Beirut is a variant of Aphrodite's & Adonis' daughter's name, Amman should have been the name of Eris' and Apollo's daughter, never born since they never copulated in the first place, and Amman never fall under a pure Greek hegemony for that matter. Still, I find this dark and malevolent image more appealing than that of a bride in a white wedding dress.
