The rich composition of different cultures and faiths that have settled in Amman peacefully for decades is a story to tell. Amman was originally built on seven hills that housed in its modern history a variety of inhabitants;Palestinians,Syrians,Iraqis,Circassians,Armenians,Chechens as well as many others from different origins.

This year, it has been a 100 years since its citizens have realized the need for organized urbanization, and when, in 1909, the Amman City Municipality was born.

Today, Jordan’s capital is home to a 2.25 million residents. Amman’s spirit is one that represents genuine diversity; a collage of people, places and cultures, both old and new.

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Today, hundreds celebrate Amman, hundreds start their parade from the Roman theatre and walk all the way to the Greater Amman Municipality Building in Ras al Ain, today they tell the story of Amman in 100 steps.

Many people have wondered what Amman would say if it could talk, and what the people of Amman would say about it if they were given the chance to talk. ‘2in 7akat’ Amman, what would it say? And if you, the Jordanian, Palestinian, Syrian, Iraqi, Circassian and Armenian were asked to tell Amman’s story, what would you say? Would your stories be the same? Close? How many different stories does Amman have? “Amman’s story is the story of its people”. Share yours.

amman in7akat

My Amman, is the Amman that welcomed my family when they first set foot here a long time ago, it’s the 10 minutes you need on its streets to go back in time, and the other 10 you need to go back to the present. Amman is that jasmine tree outside my grandma’s old house where I’d sit and put all those jasmines in a necklace and wear it around the house. Amman is walking to school for twelve years, and seeing the exact same faces every single day, sharing their stories with me as I grow. It’s running into that old friend I haven’t seen in years on the traffic light. Amman is green mosques all around, with that church right around the corner, that never ending competition their white stones live each day. Amman is the olive tree on the sidewalk and me on the street, it’s the hundred cars with flashers on honking to celebrate his graduation or their wedding. Amman is that flag up high in the middle of the city. Amman is the awakening talents, passion, power. Amman is the old smell, the history. Amman is the new smell, the future.

I pass by you, Amman, every day, in every corner of my life, in the words of every old man, in the smile of every child, in eyes, looking in different directions but in everything they see, there’s you. I wake up with you, go to bed with you, at times I forget you, I hate you, I pass by and not say hello. I take you for granted, not knowing how other places are like. To you I raise my hat, to your beauty.

My Amman is just that, MY AMMAN, and when I think of my Amman I think of something else as well, something just as important as my Amman, just as close to my heart, just as beautiful.

I’ve never seen its people, never walked its roads, never smelled its jasmine nor seen where its olive trees are rooted, on the sidewalks? Haven’t seen its sidewalks either. Its beauty is not in its people, nor in its stories (since not many tell me its stories), it’s beauty -to me- is just that, beauty. Palestine, I wish I can pass you by like I do Amman every day, so I can tell your story, so I can tell those who ask me all about your beauty, about your people and your streets, so I can have a reason, to call you beautiful, and to call you mine.

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