Apology

This blog has not been updated for a long time now due to a totally numb mind. nothing to feel, think, and of course mention.
To the ones who asked. Apologies.

Marooned but loving it...

Image Card: The famous Barbir Junction (now a bridge) in the year 1967. (Big thanks to my brother for providing the picture)

My story: - well not actually mine - the person i speak of this time is not someone i do not know. I tell the story of my grand father. Pretty old by now, he's become - and excuse my bluntness - socially marginalized. It has made me notice how the more we have things around and available, the more we take them forgranted and the less we pay attention to them and to their value added.

After all these years around this man - this amazing man - who has witnessed a plague, 6 wars, lived in three countries, travelled to around twenty, considers Vienna the most beautiful place on earth and cried on the day Jamal Abdel-Nasser resigned... after all these years... he accidentally told me how he himself had the measles in his childhood and was quarantined and was very close to dying.

I've so often felt guilty about not spending time with this man. But truth be said, when I do, I do not sit with him for a social duty, i stand amazed at the treasures that he withholds! I stand more amazed at how he withholds them... It's like having massive purchasing power but no demand. He has lost the desire to maybe share these stories that i so desparately try to lure out of him.

Day by day, my grand father is becoming less and less interested in having something to tell. Day by day, my grandfather is retreating to his own contemplative sanctuary... his own waiting room... his own driver for life: this image...

If you look carefully in the picture, u can read a sign that says: maktabit al-horsh (Al-Horsh Stationary) this is HIS stationary. It stands to the day. Every day for more than 45 years now my grandfather heads out to this 4x5 meters room with the most outdated most primitive merchandise and sits there for around 5 hours in the afternoon. Nothing has stood in his way, not war nor violence nor politics nor sickness not even family vacations or the visits of his immigrant children, and the whole family knows not to even try to convince him to give it a break at this age.

In this juncture in particular, the most noisy and polluted area in the whole of Beirut probably, the region famous for being the defense line against the Israeli 1982 invasion, the block that has seen nothing but fire since 1958... in this place were you have thousands of carrel vendors and a most popular market place and never-ending traffic... my grandfather does his meditation. Lately, I've been passing by his stationary every day on my way back from work... and every day i find him spacing out... and every day it reins on me with so much intensity. Every day i wonder about the things that he thinks about... memories mostly i assume... than again assumption is the mother of all fuck-ups.

(flashback) My grandfather once said to me in reply to a joke i made about getting him to start dating long after his wife had died (1992) by saying: he is so much in love with her and can't wait to meet her again.

I keep thinking that maybe he constantly thinks of her and remembers his life with her... truly, a perfect love story with absolutely no flaw! I always recall the story of how on picnics he used to go for walks with his wife when they were young and her parents would send her little sister with them so that they would not be alone and instigate conservative criticism... His wife (my grandmother) would pretend to have forgotten her hair clip back where they used to settle for picnics and send her little sister to get it, saving some quick minutes of surveillance-free contact.

Ideas rush through my head so fast i can't organize my tale properly! This image really got to me... for a weird reason i felt proud of that damn little place... it has hosted my grandfather for so long and provided him with his sanctuary. And i also feel so grateful for it. I actually treat this place as someone dear to me. I even envy my grandfather for this place. I know i am living my life in search for that little corner of mine... that corner where i will contemplate and will meditate in my own way... I also know that so does everyone else... and lucky are the few who have found their sanctuaries.

Images of our reality and riddles for mind games...

We watched the tragedy unfold

We did as we were told

We bought and sold

It was the greatest show on earth

But then it was over

We ohhed and aahed

We drove our racing cars

We ate our last few jars of caviar

And somewhere out there in the stars

A keen-eyed look-out

Spied a flickering light

Our last hurrah

And when they found our shadows

Grouped around the TV sets

They ran down every lead

They repeated every test

They checked out all the data on their lists

And then the alien anthropologists

Admitted they were still perplexed

But on eliminating every other reason

For our sad demise

They logged the only explanation left

This species has amused itself to death

Roger Waters - "Amused to Death"

What God wants God gets

God wants voodoo

God wants shrines

God wants law

God wants organised crime

God wants crusade

God wants jihad

God wants good

God wants bad

What God wants God gets

Roger Waters - "What God Wants"

By the cold and religious we were taken in hand

Shown how to feel good and told to feel bad.

Tongue tied and terrified we learned how to pray

Now our feelings run deep and cold as the clay.

And strung out behind us the banners and flags

Of our possible pasts lie in tatters and rags.

Roger Waters - "Your Possible Pasts"

Climb your favorite apple tree

Try to catch the sun

Hide from your little brother's gun

Dream yourself away

Why can't we reach the sun

Why can't we blow the years away

Blow away Blow away

Remember Remember

Richard Wright - "Remember A Day"

A daily dose of Soap...

Sometimes, the most interesting details that you usually are on the hunt for are those that lurk around you every day, every minute, and in every corner.

With me being no exception of course, I finally came to meet Mr. Fix. Mr. Fix is someone I see 5 days a week, 36 hours a week. Despite this intense stretch of time, and after several months of that routine, I realized some truth about Mr. Fix (hence the name).

Mr. Fix is obsessed with two things: cleanliness and the air. At least every 10 minutes, Mr. Fix would run to the closest window to check out the weather. His obsession in life is whether it is windy or not. How windy is it? And how much dust is there in the air current. And the funny thing is… it has been quite a stressful time for Mr. Fix lately. With global warming on the rise, or as comedian Robin Williams puts it: the earth is cooking – we are witnessing an alarming rise of average temperature and the recurrence of dust-bearing wind almost on a daily basis. In Beirut in particular, it has poured mud-rain at least 10 times this spring – an incident that usually happened once or twice at most. Anyway, Mr. Fix has been keeping an open eye on the issue and I must say… he’s freaking out! And how unlucky he is… his two obsessions have interplayed to his horror: dust and wind!

Mr. Fix goes to the bathroom every hour. At first I found that really odd. I am not much of a gossiper nor do I like intruding on people’s lives. I despise the Lebanese habit of doing so. But… I did notice. I kept it to myself despite the fact that his bathroom visits were kinda penetrating my “base-view frame”… but for some reason Mr. Fix finally broke the ice.

For the millionth time, Mr. Fix came to the window where I sit and said: not much wind today? Do you think it might get stronger? Of course, being it a most recurring incident the absence of any significant response on my behalf had become an established norm.

When Mr. Fix headed to the bathroom, he suddenly stormed back out with an extremely alarmed look and an aggressive posture. I literally jumped out of my seat. Thinking the man probably saw a rat or something I was ready for the confrontation (although rats and pests give me the damn chills...)

Instead, Mr. Fix suddenly said: there’s no soap! Where’s the soap?!

Shouting and hustling for the office keeper to get some soap… he started trembling and saying: everything has to be clean… everything has to be clean… everything has to be clean…

Stupidly too lazy to amuse his obsession I asked: why? Did you spill anything on yourself? Did you dirty yourself or your hands?

The reply was the same: everything has to be clean… clean…

I looked over and realized saying: yes but you are clean! You didn’t go to the bathroom yet and you actually washed some hour ago!

He then said: cleaning is like praying… you shouldn’t do it at your convenience only! What’s the use then? You should commit yourself in order to be saved!

“How many people do you think shall be saved? Do you really think those who live at their convenience and ignore their commitments shall be saved? Do you think that those who do not adhere to this life and consider themselves bigger than it can capacitate, shall be saved?!!”

In memory of Kevin Carter

In memory of Kevin Carter (1960-1994), the South African photographer who took this photo.

He lived his life trying to fit in. He never did. He got to where he did in life, through coincidence.

His childhood witnessed a very hard time for him as he lived at times of the racist South African system, by his middle teenage years he ran away from home and was too ashamed to go back. He was considered to be a "nigger-lover" by people around him. With time he found himself serving in the military. After being injured while serving in the Praetorian Army in bomb that killed 19 people around him, he then had some job i can't really remember what exactly when he got dismissed. Feeling down (an extension of his chronic alienation) he was wandering around the streets of Johannesberg when he saw a photoshop with a sign that said: Repair Man needed - No experience required.

He took the job out of despair, and then what do you know... he picked up an interest in Photography and with time he became a journalist photographer. In 1994 (at the age of 33) he took the photo featured here... He won the Pullitzer prize for it. But what no one knew was; this man never overcame his alienation, even when they considered him to be "on top".

Two months after receiving his Pulitzer, Carter would be dead of carbon-monoxide poisoning in Johannesburg, a suicide at 33. His red pickup truck was parked near a small river where he used to play as a child; a green garden hose attached to the vehicle's exhaust funneled the fumes inside. "I'm really, really sorry," he explained in a note left on the passenger seat beneath a knapsack. "The pain of life overrides the joy to the point that joy does not exist."
How could a man who had moved so many people with his work end up a suicide so soon after his great triumph? The brief obituaries that appeared around the world suggested a morality tale about a person undone by the curse of fame. The details, however, show how fame was only the final, dramatic sting of a death foretold by Carter's personality, the pressure to be first where the action is, the fear that his pictures were never good enough, the existential lucidity that came to him from surviving violence again and again - and the drugs he used to banish that lucidity. If there is a paramount lesson to be drawn from Carter's meteoric rise and fall, it is that tragedy does not always have heroic dimensions. "I have always had it all at my feet," read the last words of his suicide note, "but being me just fit up anyway." (This part is taken from Scott Macleod's article: The life and death of Kevin Carter / Johannesberg)

Ederlezi

This song is taken from Emir Custurica’s Dom za vešanje (Time of the Gypsies)… it is credited to Goran Bregovic but funny enough it is not his… and if you have lived in the Balkans you’d be aware how many hate this man for being a “thief”. I have been to Sarajevo and have been captivated with the life and the culture that I was exposed to. I found myself in the people, the music, the scenery, the history, the culture, the art, and the war… I remain incapable of expressing the feeling to the day… i know i shall go back...

Same amala oro kelena
Oro kelena dive kerena
Sa o Roma
(Amaro dive
Amaro dive, Ederlezi
Ej... ah... )
Sa o Roma, babo, babo
Sa o Roma, o daje
Sa o Roma, babo, babo
Ej, Ederlezi
Sa o Roma, daje
Sa o Roma babo, E bakren cinen.
A me coro, dural besava.
A a daje, amaro dive.
Amaro dive erdelezi.
Ediwado babo, amenge bakro.
Sa o Roma, babo. E bakren cinen.
Eeee...j, Sa o Roma, babo babo, Sa o Roma daje.
Sa o Roma, babo babo, EdeRlezi. EdeRlezi, Sa o Roma Daje.
Eeee... Sa o Roma, babo babo, Sa o Roma daje. Sa o Roma, babo babo, Eeee...
EdeRlezi, EdeRlezi.
Sa o Roma Daje

Ederlezi is Gypsy name for Serbian Fest of Saint George.It's celebrated on 6th of May. Ederlezi has been a fascination of mine for some time and I have collected various bits of information. The various Balkan spellings (Herdeljez, Erdelezi) are merely variants on the Turkish Hidirellez (not dotted), a holiday signaling the beginning of spring, occurring approximately 40 days after the spring equinox. The Balkan Slavs added the Christian layer of St. George's Day (Gjuorguovdan, Dz^urdz^ovden, Gergjuovden. Hidrellez is a very significant day in Anatolia. The word itself is very significant; it is the combination of names of two prophets: Hizir & Ilyas. Hidrellez signifies a rebirth of nature and is also considered to be the beginning of summer. According to Anatolian people's beliefs Hizir and Ilyas are two prophets who drank the water of never-dying; they are brothers and friends. They have given each other promise to meet on this night of May 5th every year to give rebirth to nature. Hizir is the protector of plants; he gives life to plants. He helps poor people. Wherever he goes, he brings abundance. Ilyas is the protector of waters and according to some, the protector of animals. Wherever he goes, animals become healthier. People believe that wishes made on this night will become true. They also believe sick people will become healthier and it will be the end of bad-luck and misfortunes.There are also a lot of rituals that people perform. Some people put a coin inside a red cloth and then hang it on a rose branch. In the morning this money is put into the wallet so that it will bring abundance. It is also believed that if you go out, have a picnic and be in nature on this day, your days in winter will have less hardship.

Most city people know this day simply as a picnic day...

NB: Unfortunately i'm quite the amateur blogger i don't know how to post music or even know if i can in the first place... the song that i am talking about is found in Le Temps Des Gitans (Goran Bregovic) I hope you can find it it is worth the try.

The Palestinian Victims and Damages

For the purpose of transparency and in order to maintain honesty on the question of the Naher el-Bared fighting, I feel it is imperative to site the following report that was issued by the Palestinian Organization for Human Rights (Shahed). The report has published the following numbers and facts:
1- More the 150 Houses were fully destroyed.
2- More than 350 Houses were partially destroyed.
3- 3 mosques were significantly damaged.
4- Various clinics were damaged, out of order, and empty on supplies and material to perform their duties. (the report lists them by name)
5- Two main water tanks were destroyed in full.
6- Some of the electric stations were directly hit.
7- Heavy machine guns have damaged a big number of medium sized water containers.
8- Basic food supplies have been depleted or out of reach. Children milk is also depleted.
9- The number of casualties remains an issue of estimation. There is no accurate number but the Organization is sure that it is high and is not less than 25 dead. The field coordinator of the Red Cross Mr. Youssef Boutros said that the number of evicted wounded surpassed 50 by the second ceasefire, and after that there were 84 cases in Safad Hospital and 19 births.

Finally the report listed the names of 18 civilians who were KILLED:

1- Jihad Mohammad Azzam, 37 years – Married *
2- Nayef Salah, 50 – Married*
3- Mountaha Khalil – 38 – Married
4- Amer Ahmad Hussein Mansour – 25*
5- Adel Khalil Younes – 50 – Married (UNRWA Employee)*
6- Abdelatif Ibrahim Abdallah Khalil – 35 – married*
7- Raed Ali Abdelrahim – 33 – Married
8- Linda Mohammad Jabr – 24 – student*
9- Oday Naser Ismail – 17*
10- Abdel Ghani al-Hajj
11- Assali Rashed – 65 – Married*
12- Mahmoud Hussein
13- Suhaila Rashed – 30
14- Salim Saleh – 65*
15- Said Haidar – 45 – Married*
16- Abd Shukri Mansour – 20
17- Ahmad Ali Abdel ‘Aal
18- Ahmad Saleh

According to eye witness interviewed by “Shahed” that a number of the victims were buried in the camp and others that weren’t ‘reachable’ and the organization has a number of pictures that show the destruction inside the camp and of those trapped inside as well as pictures of the victims.

Safad Hospital stated that they had delivered 15 bodies to their families that belong to the names that I have marked with (*) in the list above and to the additional names hereunder:
· Raed al-Shanas – Mountaha Abou Radi – Nader Hussein