Saturday, 18 July 2009

Links 18 July 09 - 02 Aug 09

The funny stuff:

The best Whose Line Is It Anyway clip I have ever seen.

Are you bored with the internet?

How to piss off the aeroplane passenger next to you: take a deep breath, open your laptop, and pull up this URL - annoying and funny, but great (Egyptian) pop song makes it all fine in the end.

Serious stuff:

Equal rights for men please, says woman.

Collins' scientific narrative on God. Scientists doing God can sound weird.

I don't know what the USA's effect is on BBC correspondents, but one after the other, it takes their breath away. From Alistair Cooke (of "Letter from America"), who adored his adopted new home and sent a broadcast letter once a week for about fifty years, to Stephen Sackur, whose eight-year stint included covering Clinton's infamous "I did not have sex with that woman" line, and now Justin Webb, they all turn wistful and loving.

Read the now-traditional "This-America-is-so-full-of-faults-n-paradoxes-but-darn-don't-I-just-love-its-almighty-awesomeness-and-ain't-I-sad-that-I's-goin-backs-to-that-overcast-knife-crime-ridden-place-called-Britain-again." Justin's reports from the US over the past eight years have generally painted sympathetic pictures. And now it's time for his farewell.

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interesting links this week

The funnies

- Parody of New Scientist magazine. Great!

- Is she coming back you think?

- He caught his wife cheating.

- new meaning of "retired"

- Ridiculous T-shirts.

Describe your philosophy about life in one sentence: discussion fires up good quotes and links. Examples: Some days you're the pigeon; some days you're the statue. 'Be kind to everyone along the way for we all fight a hard battle' - Plato. And this thought-provoking Alan Watt vid .

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Wednesday, 15 July 2009

The Bonfire of the Vanities - coming to this blog

Tom Wolfe likes to introduce his novels with a sort of "making of" Introduction. I noticed he did so with "I am Charlotte Simmons"; and now I discover that, about twenty years before, he did the same with "The Bonfire of the Vanities."

The Introduction to "The Bonfire of the Vanities" is a lovely literary essay, the sort of thing that arouses serious writers (whom Tom Wolfe defines as those who aim for literary prestige). It is rich with historical context from the world of fiction, from as far back the nineteenth century to the 1980s. It is also an argument for something.

Wolfe argues that novel writing must rely on reporting skills. A serious writer must be able to document - carefully - the world he wishes his work to inhabit. He has to interview, live in, make friends with, that world. Wolfe compares realism to electricity; you can't go back on it, you can't do without it. Realism is essential for fiction, he argues.

His point seems true; part of The Wire's immense TV success is that its creator immersed himself in the inner-workings of Baltimore, Maryland. Indeed, David Simon was a reporter for a local Baltimore paper for many years.

Some nuggets:

  • In 1969, Tom Wolfe sought to write a novel about New York - that irresistible destination of all those who insist on being where things are happening. He thought it the most obvious idea an American writer could have.

  • 1960s America was a time of immense change. He kept waiting for novels about those changes. Nothing.

  • By the time 1979 swung around, and still no grand novel on New York had come out, Wolfe began to prepare for writing that book himself.

  • The reason why no novels where forthcoming was complicated. Most writers were experimenting with different forms of fiction. The realism school was deemed to have been 'over'.

  • Extraordinary and abundant news coverage challenged fiction writers. There was no way they could replicate that realism. The news was full of detail, full of things even a fictional novelist would be at loss to match for symbolism and surprise.

  • Reporting is the most vaulable and least understood resource available to any writer with exalted ambitions, whether the medium is print, film, tape, or the stage.

  • Wolfe sought to document the influence of society on even the most personal aspects of the life of an individual. It strikes me as folly to believe that you can portray the individual in the city today without also portraying the city itself.

  • I doubt that there is a writer over forty who does not realise in his heart of hearts that literary genius, in prose, consists of proportions more on the the order of 65 percent material and 35 percent the talent in his brain.

  • Between 1981-1985, Tom Wolfe gathered material by visiting neighborhoods and making friends with people he would never have encountered. The novel was published in 1987 to widespread acclaim; it was often described as 'prophetic'.

Hola: While in London, my friend avantcaire set up this book-reading-circle of sorts; to my lot fell the honour of "The Bonfire of the Vanities" - all 740 pages of it. My task is to read it, and send it on to the next person in the ring. Wish me luck!

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Tuesday, 7 July 2009

The hijab martyr: Marwa el Sherbini

I am astounded this story did not receive the coverage it deserves. This is a horrible racist crime, and the fact that the German media has not given the story the coverage it deserves tells me all I need to know about German attitudes.



Update:
An interesting low-budget video featuring a discussion between a woman and herself on hijab.

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Thursday, 2 July 2009

Rickroll question

Was rickrolling a piss-take of the vid, the song, and of Rick Astley? Or was it a genuine attempt to draw attention to the song, by tricking people to watch it?

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Saturday, 27 June 2009

Michael Jackson

My oldest friend in the world texted me yesterday at midnight: "Can't believe Michael Jackson is dead."

That's how I found out.

Our flat went into an hour of shock; I broke the news to them. A Dutch woman of 24, a Portugese of 28, and I, all united in our shock and love of this icon.

The thing that most strikes you now that he is gone, is his incredible output. A
treasure trove of amazing songs. A track record that goes back to when he was 11.

As avantcaire says, our generation loved MJ. We associate childhood memories with him.

His music had ability to stir into action, to make you dance, to make you feel good, and also to make you contemplative, sweetly so. I always had a soft spot for his sentimental songs.

Here is a song that was one of my favourite since I was 13: Human Nature.

This too, used to be one of my favourites when I was a teenager: The Girl is Mine.


Gotta be startin somethin' - my Nigerian classmates loved that song!

'Off the wall' - this phrase entered the vocabulary in my Nigerian school because of Mr Michael Jackson.

...

And I will never forget the excitement that overcame me when I learned, at age 15, now in Cairo, that Mr Michael Jackson is back with I just can't stop loving you.

Why do we wait until someone dies to appreciate them? Imagine all MJ's contemporaries and competing artists, how they probably never called him, and how they probably want to do so now. They never celebrated his success, yet now they do.

The legacy is clear: volumes of music, a great voice, great dance moves, excitement, novelty, and sometimes, message as well.

You want to be remembered? Produce!

Sure, the guy had lost his way by the end. But boy did he produce!

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Wednesday, 24 June 2009

Niqab equals ...

I'm posting on the niqab subject in a new post because I want to clarify a few things.

What Sarkozy is doing is saying: "You're in our country, you abide by our norms, and if not, we may take things into our hands." He wants to change the law.

And you know what, on reflection, that's probably a more honest approach than pretending to be tolerant when you can't stand the sight of niqab.

Meg asked what niqab equals?

Niqab equals devoutness.
Niqab equals piety.
Niqab equals a visible display of religiousness.
Niqab equals a statement of virtue and decency.

As far as we know, niqabs existed before Islam, and not just within Arabia. But it became part of Muslim culture when the Prophet Mohammed's wives were named "the mothers of the muslims", told not to marry after his death and to wear niqab. Even though this was directed to the wives of the Prophet, many women followed their lead. The niqab became a symbol for maximum decency, propriety, virtue, etc.

It is absolutely not "required"; but for some reason women have been held captive by its strong statement of "rising above" the standard hijab.

You know how nuns wear a particular uniform to indicate their choice to rise above, get themselves out the equation of, the sexual, the material? The niqab is the same - max strength.

It seems that its wearing came and went with fashion and place. I'm not sure that in Egypt, for example, women always wore niqab. But certainly in the 1920s, middle class Cairenes would put on something to cover their face on top of what they were wearing.

My late grandmother told me about the time when - as a result of a campaign by a man called Qasem Amin - women stopped doing that and started wearing European-style clothes. I got a sense that it was a weight off her young shoulders.

Today, women who wear niqab in Egypt do so by choice. Their life is not easy. Some hijab-wearing women see niqab as affront; as if the niqab wearer is saying I'm holier than thou.

In parts of Afghanistan, and the tribal regions of north Pakistan, I understand that niqab is widely spread, and "comes as standard". A girl grows up with all her female relatives in niqab, she knows that's what she'll wear when she grows up.

Sarkozy was addressing niqab wearers in France. These women chose.

There is little evidence - in my opinion - for the "causality" argument: that women wear niqab because their men would kill/intimidate them otherwise. Such a link would not hold up under scrutiny.

I recently received a call from a Saudi PhD student at another university in the UK. She wears the niqab (not all Saudi women wear niqab). She'd met me a year ago at a seminar at her university. She is finding some difficulty in making progress in her studies and was panicking a little. Let me say that I found a strong, clear-thinking woman on the other end of the phone. I felt a lot for her.

I know her supervisors (Englishmen), and the rest of her faculty (mostly Englishmen), and I can imagine what is going on in their minds while dealing with her. In fact, I advised her to seek a Muslim supervisor (not me) - because she might contend with less with him/her. But then she told me that one of her PhD colleagues is a non-hijab-wearing Muslim woman who absolutely, studiously distanced herself from her. Talk about isolation!

Having been a foreign PhD struggling with a different educational system, on my own, with no close family or genuine friends, I knew her situation. She not only has to deal with all that, but also the unremitting prejudice that no doubt exists in the minds of all who deal with her. All they can see is "slave", "prisoner of male domination", etc.

I am going to say something slightly controversial, and it may disappoint you, but I think the feminist story is simply that. It's a story. It has a bad guy (manhood) and a hero (womanhood) and it's about the hero's struggle with the bad guy. I'm not sure it's true.

Throughout history, smart men have known that women are an asset best at their sides. The Prophet Mohammed said “God enjoins you to treat women well, for they are your mothers, daughters, aunts.” "Kindness is a mark of faith, and whoever is not kind has no faith."

I'm not evil for being a man. Yes, I may inherited a baggage of male domination issues. But women have also to realise that the genders have different strengths. Under pressure, under stress, some women are not effective. Many women yearn for male leadership: they look for a strong, visionary man; they want to be in the company of an expert; they want a teacher; etc. Again, I'm going on personal observation and hunch.

The genders have different qualities - let's just accept that. And no one's perfect.

The strongest women I have met have been the ones most wanting to be _dominated_ (their word) by strong men. I've heard it from impressive, independent, high-achieving women that I'm sure it says something.

The women most sensitive about how men deal with them, I found, are the ones who have a deep, dark backstory involving their father or an old ex. Again, it's a hunch I have based on a small sample.

The niqab issue for me is a matter of practicality. I wouldn't want my wife and daughters to wear niqab, but that's mainly for social reasons. I recognise that they would become outcasts or ill-advantaged (even in Egypt). But do I approve of this outcasting business? No way.

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Monday, 22 June 2009

Deprived of identity?

Sarkozy, the vain attention-seeking cuckoo from France, is now saying that niqab (the burka) is not welcome in France.

What is it his business to intrude on someone's personal choice of attire?

Niqab is not equal to terrorism.

Niqab is not equal to wife-beating.

Niqab is not equal to male domination.

Niqab is not equal to "servitude".

Niqab is not equal to "undermining of dignity".

"Prisoners behind netting, cut off from all social life, deprived of identity."

Wow. Are they really?


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Thursday, 18 June 2009

Sunday, 14 June 2009

1979-2009: Iran's Islamic Republic

The guys who run Iran have seriously miscalculated. The results are implausible. There's no way Ahmedinejad won two-thirds of the vote. This result puts into disarray the 1979 Republic and may well turn out to be a historical blunder by the grand clerics. Not only will the youth of Iran feel that the 1979 Republic no longer represents their values, but they will also resent it. The revolutionary constitution of 1979 will cease to have serious moral value.

Up until now - say what you want about the 1979 constitution - elections in Iran were fair. The candidates may have been vetted, but the voting process was transparent. I always felt that Iran's regular, free and fair elections were an example for many Muslim countries. But this falsification is a turning point. In 2009, 30 years after 1979, the Velayat-e Faqih - "Rule by the Supreme Jurist" - is failing spectacularly. If rumours are to be believed, Ayatollah Khameni's long dispute with Mousavi, Ahmedinejad's main rival, led to the fixing of the outcome of the election.

The 1979 constitution stipulates that the people are the source of power. The rigging of the election puts Khameni in direct conflict with the people of Iran.

Update 14/06/09

It's just not credible that Ahmedinejad would win in Mousavi's home province. It is not credible that the other candidates would gather only two percentage points between them. Given the extremely high turnout, Mousavi was supposed to benefit. Instead, according to the official results, it seems that even those who voted for a reform candidate four years ago, plopped for Ahmedinejad this time - not credible. Ayatollah Khameni was supposed to verify the result after three days. He signed them off right away.

See NYT columnist in Tehran.

Update 16/06/09

Interestingly, an Iranian colleague of mine believes that Ahmedinejad DID win - but perhaps with not as wide a margin as the official result. He believes Ahmedinejad has genuine popularity amongst the poor, and they see him as one of them - on their side. This echoes Robert Fisk's anonymous trusted friend:

"The election figures are correct, Robert. Whatever you saw in Tehran, in the cities and in thousands of towns outside, they voted overwhelmingly for Ahmadinejad. Tabriz voted 80 per cent for Ahmadinejad. It was he who opened university courses there for the Azeri people to learn and win degrees in Azeri. In Mashad, the second city of Iran, there was a huge majority for Ahmadinejad after the imam of the great mosque attacked Rafsanjani of the Expediency Council who had started to ally himself with Mousavi. They knew what that meant: they had to vote for Ahmadinejad."

"You know why so many poorer women voted for Ahmadinejad? There are three million of them who make carpets in their homes. They had no insurance. When Ahmadinejad realised this, he immediately brought in a law to give them full insurance.

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Thursday, 4 June 2009

Obama speech in Cairo

This is my placeholder post for reactions and commentary on the Cairo speech, earlier today.

I'm not a fan of Egyptian blogger sandmonkey at all, but he was invited to Cairo University to attend the speech and his report is very good.

What I think in a nutshell:

Obama needs partners and supporters in the US to help him deliver on his paradigm-changing words.

In the Arab/Muslim world, with the exception of Iran and a few Islamist movements, most of the regimes are pro-US and will happily support him. It will be Israel's government that will most likely hold things up.

Obama's speech has won him extra affection at the street level; it will probably stem the drip-drip leak of angry men to jihadi-type activities. But decisions and actions by the Obama administration, to back up the words, are crucial.


More links and comments to follow ...

Obama would win presidency of Egypt easily.

British-educated, Harlem-based Egyptian Mona El-tahawy always has a different take.

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Sunday, 31 May 2009

Synecdoche, New York



Charlie Kaufman needn't prove his artistic worth to anyone. He's written Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Being John Malkovich. For some reason, the 50 year old writer's worried about his heritage, his mortality; he's still trying to show how broad, vivid, inventive his imagination is.

Synecdoche, New York is a vanity project. Kaufman is not entertaining anybody's concerns; he's just telling us all of his own. He is 50; it's time for his pièce de résistance, his magnus opus (not necessarily his masterpiece).

What a world he depicts: a central character insecure, unhappy, unhealthy, deserted by his wife, longed for by a receptionist whom he cannot fuck, admired by an actress whom he does fuck, ... Meanwhile, he receives a generous grant and embarks on a lifetime project lasting 20-25 years, in which actors play actors playing actors (ad finitum). His project becomes a full replica of an NYC cityscape, with the stories of his main characters taking part inside apartments.

An epic imagination; a crazy, fevered desire to leave, make a mark, to have insight; a bleak, nihilistic, vision; a dream.

http://www.sonyclassics.com/synecdocheny/site/

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Sunday, 10 May 2009

That pig cull

Summary

The Egyptian government ordered a cull of all pigs. Western popular opinion sees it as an attack on the Christian minority. That perception indicates more the Western mindset than reality.

The cull

A day or two after the appearance of 'swine flu', the Egyptian government announced it was slaughtering all 300,000 pigs in the country. Initially, it said the measure was a public safety measure. Egypt had suffered about 25 deaths from bird flu, and the government didn't want to be caught out again.

Within about 48 hours, international expert opinion began to come to a consensus that a cull is not necessary, that once the flu has spread to humans, it is more likely to continue spreading via humans, not via pigs. Indeed, there seemed to be an opinion that the mere idea of flu transferring from pig to man is laughable, which it isn't - it is possible.

The Egyptian government came out with a revised opinion: this measure isn't about avoiding swine flu only, it's also about restructuring pig rearing in Egypt. Pigs are not bred in farms in Egypt, instead they tend to be hemmed in with garbage and left to do what they like. These dumps-with-pigs tend to be inside Cairo, surrounded by not far from dense human quarters, in the illegitimate slums known as "ashwa'eyyat" ('randomites', 'vagarites').

This Economist article does a good job of succintly explaining some aspects of the rubbish-and-pigs set-up.

British hypocrisy

I can't say I've conducted a comprehensive survey of British opinion via the media, internet and street opinion, but it was very interesting to me that the story was given an immediate Christian-Muslim angle. "The pigs are reared by Christians, eaten by Christians, thus when the (Muslim-dominated) government orders a cull of pigs, this is clearly aimed at the Chrstians, it's a subtle form of persecution, it's Islamist opinion getting strident and using a health-scare to score 'told-you-so' points. After all, the Muslims don't eat pork because they believe it to be unclean, and so Muslims can now gloat about their religion's wisdom and have an excuse to kill off all pigs."

I live in the UK, so I'll take aim now at British hypocrisy. For a country that culled cows - when there was the mad cow disease scare, a country that undertook an equivalent of a holocaust in the history of sheep (killing almost ALL sheep in the UK) - because of foot-and-mouth disease, I found this particular strand of British opinion to be shameless. So those Egyptians are backward, unscientific, driven by medieval religiousity, but we Brits, we took things slowly, one step at a time, and only escalated to a complete cull when we had no choice. I see.

Same outcome! Human beings kill animals at will: If it comes down to: us or the animals, light up the furnaces.

And let me just follow the logic here: we do NOT want to kill animals in a mass-slaughter fashion because ... ?? We want to fatten them up, and hela-hopp, slaughter them when the market needs them.

It's the synchronised killing that's the problem here. If we could just stagger the process, mix-it-up a little, not have them all scream at the same time, that'd be fine. Spread it out. Maybe Mondays and Tuesdays, and the fourth Thursday of every month. That's all we're talking about here, y'know what I mean?

'Egyptian style'

Incredibly, this is now exactly the Egyptian government's policy. It will spread the cull out over the next several months.

Egyptians have this instinctive understanding (sometimes) of how to stroke other people's egos. Okay, so you're offended because pigs have got nothing to do with spreading the flu? Oh, well, erm, it was an overdue, much-needed restructuring of pig rearing. You guys still not happy? Okay, we'll spread it out, we won't have a bloodbath, promise. Happy? Tell you what, we'll financially compensate the rubbish collectors, and parade a bunch of doctors wearing masks and holding giant injection needles in front of the world's cameras - that should reassure you. Still, no? Okay, get a female lead doctor, let the leader of the medical operation be a woman, and let her talk about all the _humane_ precautions the team's taking. Get all men out of the camera frame, repeat, leave the uncovered, decent-looking, well-qualified female lead to take the full shot. Thank you.

What, still not happy!



PS. Vegeterianism is the solution.

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Friday, 1 May 2009

Same language, different countries

Roger Cohen writes in the NYT about British English.

A good read, that piece, and one that I see is very popular on the NYT website. Americans love Britishisms. So much so, I suspect that many of the words Roger Cohen pointed out affectionately will seep into educated, American middle-class usage.

Meanwhile, the youth of Britain have become more and more at ease with the various youthful Americanisms that they see and hear in the popular media. There used to be a generation of British people that scorned any American usage, they hunted for it and shot it down in contempt. But the young people of Britain, certainly here in London, they're "cool" with it. Like, totally. Duh!

I detect this subtle age-gap thing, where younger English people adapt to, and find cool, any exotic use of their language. Particularly, when inflitrated with Americanisms: the Noo Yewark intonations, the Black-American rhythms of speech, "The Wire" drug-dealers-and-cops talk, mafiosi speak, Al Pacino fuck-you-you-owe-me-a-cadillac explosive delivery, ... these are all welcome, these are signs you're tuned-in.

It's perfectly normal to hear a 20-something in London have a conversation on his mobile (cell, if you must) that goes like this:

- Hey, Andy.
- Wassup dude?
- Cool man, awesome.
- Was just wonderin if you wanna hang out at my place tonight, play some Wii shit.
- Nice, man, nice. Ahahahaha.
- Okay, well sweet, mate, catch you round 8 at my place then.
- Byebye, bahbye, bah.


On the other side of the ocean, I detect an increasing influence of British pop culture. British The Office is seen by many Americans as infinitely more pleasing than the American version. Before there was an American version, Gervais and Merchant had to start a special section of their website to translate the various Britishisms of the show to an ever-so-keen American audience.

Jeremy Clarkson's "Top Gear" is probably as popular in America as in Britain - who'd have thought (I can't stand him)! Clarkson is very contemptuous of popular American culture, but American audiences laugh with him and love him for it. Simon Cowell - need I say more?

A friend who lives out in San Franciso dropped by London recently. We spent a few hours together. He was very complimentary about London, and the "cleverness" of British opinion. To him, reading an article or essay written by a British author, is a more pleasurable and intelligent exercise than one written by a typical American author.

In the past, Britain was seen as a fading power. It was listened to only amongst the elite of the US. But it has regenerated its image. Now it's seen as a thriving livewire of talent and sophistication. And whereas in the past, it sought to separate itself from the US - because it thought itself superior, now it freely mingles with US culture, able to communicate with it, use it, learn from it, and deal with it as an equal, a wealthier, bigger equal.

On the plane from Seattle to New York a few months ago, I sat next to two American guys of about 17 and 19. They were both keen followers of British culture, able to discuss Jeremy Clarkson, Ricky Gervais, Tony Blair with ease and fluidity. Likewise, I keep meeting young British people who have travelled America up and down and are extremely familiar with its popular culture.

It seems to me the cultural divide that Roger Cohen writes of is receding.

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Sunday, 26 April 2009

Il Divo

About four years ago, I watched director Paolo Sorrentino's "Consequences of Love". A cool, stylised Italian film it was; magnetic, intelligent. How about this for an opening sequence?

Or how about this scene for cinematic inspiration? You don't even need subtitles.

Two weeks ago I went to see Sorrentino's latest: "Il Divo". It won the 2008 Cannes Jury prize.

The movie is about the real character of Giulio Andreotti, who was prime minister of Italy three seven times, 1992 being the last year he was so. Andreotti is reputed to have had links with the Mafia, but despite numerous investigations in Italy, nothing has been proved, and he has been acquitted time and again. He is alive - 90 years old.

The film is a stylish, funny, energetic film about a man whose entire attitude to life seems to be tight-lipped, sardonic, wily. Andreotti is a shrewd man with a quick mind who seems to have studied his acquaintances, his peers very carefully. His every move is a chess move, designed to take advantage.

The film does a terrific job of mocking the man and the whole enterprise of power. Framing certain scenes in funny ways, ridicules the situation and the characters very effectively, without getting them to say ridiculous things.

I enjoyed it thoroughly.

An examination of his daily routines, that often started at 4am and involved a deep relationship with the Church.

The scene which depicts his supposed meeting with mafia bosses, an event never proven. Notice the subversion of the whole thing.

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Saturday, 18 April 2009

Letter to the Egyptian People

Egyptians love this poem. It's just perfect in Arabic, and it's an utter misrepresentation in English, but its message bears spreading. This is my quick translation.


From: Hosni Mubarak
To: The Egyptian People

Dearest people, dearest soulmates, dear babes, dear good, nice people that I carry in my pocket

My people, you smart-alecs, you empty-talkers, you who live in graveyards, patient and fine

You who eat anything, you impoverished worriers, you carriers of mountains

My people, you who sleep, who are lost in thought, who daydream, who drift, poor, and whose state is in a state

I love you just the way you are: drugged, happied-out, in-denial, dizzy and dizzied, in the clouds

I like you not-sweating-it, anodyne, compliant and deferential

I like those among you who are crooked, those who lie, those who are fraudulent and steal fortunes

I love those who see, who know, who fear, who say nothing, and keep mum

I love those who shut their eyes, the fools, the idiots, the jackasses

I love those who are content, who do nothing, those who 'just want to raise my kids'

I love those who've lost hope, those who're sad, those who're depressed, to whom everything is impossible

I like it when you travel, when you're distant, migrant, when you transfer your dollars and riyals

I like you drumming, yelling, clowning, for a football match, a film, or a column

I like it when you support, kiss-hand, flatter, concur, pretend, and lick-shoe

But when you think, plan, decide, engage, and open debate

When you trouble, make trouble, provoke issues, or ask questions

And when you want to enlighten, to develop, to make yourself special

Then, oh then, I will get you, never leave you, and I will make of you an example, a lesson

I will throw you around, humiliate your folk, and make your pain beyond tolerance

I will drag your distinguished self, disgrace you, respected sire, and shrink your withered honour

You'll get slammed a court case, be dead weight, and for the rest of your life, you'll live in isolation

So, dearest, if you accept, I will love you, if not, I'll slap you down, and whether you rise or you fall, you'll get my Gamal.

[Gamal is the president's son]

* By Ahmed Fouad Negm



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Friday, 10 April 2009

Obama's bow

In the Arab world, leaders greet each other with exaggerated gestures of affection all the time - and it means nothing. A leader will bow to another, a leader will kiss the forehead of another, etc. The late president Arafat was the best of them, he once kissed the Sultan of Oman nine times - pretty much everywhere on his face.

But it means nothing. If anything, I think Obama's bow (if it was a bow) shows a shrewd operator who knows how to win people over. Obama has out-Arab'ed the Arabs.

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Tuesday, 24 March 2009

What Howard Schultz said about supporting Israel

Summary: Howard Schultz, CEO of Starbucks, happens to sit next to me at one of the Starbucks stores in London. When I recognise who he is, I query him on his company's position towards Israel.

Many people in the Arab and Muslim world believe he supports Israeli settlement activities in the occupied Palestinian territories. Some believe he and his company make donations to various Israeli organisations.

He denied all this. I felt he sounded like a politician.

Quick-links:


Events before

I walk into one of my favourite Starbucks, on St Martin's Lane, London, just next to the Avenue Q theatre, a minute's walk from Trafalgar Square.

The first thing that strikes me is that there are many people queueing. And they're all in suits. I notice several attractive, tall women in snazzy business suits. I'm not happy about having to queue. One of the women immediately steps out of line and says: "Oh sorry, we're not waiting, you go right ahead." I notice her American accent. I notice they're all Americans.

"Okay," I tell myself, "so we have some American business-types on some kind of conference, coming for a coffee round. The top end of America: well-heeled, well-scrubbed, well-spoken, good-looking, ... bastards." I'm feeling a little cranky.

"I bet these Americans feel totally at home here, I bet they think: what's that guy doing in our shop," I think to myself. I shove the lady out of my way - I'm a little cranky, okay?

I order my coffee.

By the time I return to the sofa that I had "reserved" with my stuff, I find some executive sitting on the other end of the sofa. He's leaning over and being all nice and friendly to one of the good-looking women, sat on another chair. They're like old friends, talking in hushed tones - almost like teenagers sharing illicit intimate moments.

I sit next to them on "MY" part of the sofa. I'm a little agitated that I'm going to have to sit through their teenage huddle. The male executive, let's call him the Teenage Exec - eventhough he is in his forties, annoys me. While waiting for my coffee, I had seen how much of an easy presence he has, how outgoing, networky, fizzy, he is. He is also a little slimy.

On close inspection, the woman he is chatting to is not as impressive as my first impression. Lots of make-up, older than I first thought.

No sooner had I settled down, than another bunch of execs arrive. One guy sits on the sofa to the left of me. Across from him is an English woman who excitedly talks about a new range of crepes. I begin to notice that everyone is directing attention to the guy sampling the food.

I notice they have spread the crepe samples on the table as if my cup of coffee is not there. So, I push back one of their items and re-position my cup. The important man looks over to me and says "Oh sorry." But the teenage exec dislikes my move and pushes whatever I had pushed forwards, backwards - as if to say "you're one, and we're many."

The crepes-sampling man is older, possibly in his 50s, he is fit, he still has a decent mane that is not predominantly gray, ... He is relaxed and chatty and wants to be part of the crowd. He must be a senior, experienced exec, but not hugely important.

The teenage exec introduces the lady he's been chatting to: she works for Microsoft. "Tell me what phone to carry," the senior guy says to her. She asks what phone he carries now. He says it's an iphone but he doesn't like it, it's all-show. He tells her he is the least techie guy she could meet. They carry on talking about phones.

Meanwhile, the senior exec is munching on the various samples of crepes. He turns around to me and says: "Would you like some food?" I give him a dismissive shake of the head. "Get off my table, you and your posse of execs," is what I'm thinking. I shut my eyes to shut them out.

Suddenly, I open my eyes. I look at his face and something tells me this man is Howard Schultz, the CEO of Starbucks.

Now it all makes sense. This is why the English woman was excitedly pitching to him the new line of crepes. This is why he looks so relaxedly powerful. This is why they're all looking at him. This is why he is asking such specific questions about the line of crepes: calorie count, ingredients, true cost, retail price, time of sale, etc.

He stands up and they look like they might be about to leave. I have to act.

Impromptu Interview with Howard Schultz

"Excuse me, are you Howard Schultz?" I say.

"Yes, I am," he says. He turns towards me, fully open to conversation. "And you?"

I stand up to shake hands with him. I give my name, and repeat it again.

"I was just thinking who might this guy be. And then it all suddenly, finally ... clicked," I say. They all laugh. I had clearly been a nuisance, a cranky man sat at the wrong place at the wrong time.

"A pleasure," he says.

"Actually, I want to ask you something, do you mind," I say.

"Sure," he says.

"A lot of Muslims believe you support Israeli settlement activity. Is it true?" I ask.

"Okay, I'm glad you asked that question. Please sit down. Let's talk about this," he says. He is very friendly, jumping at the chance to discuss the matter.

We sit down. All eyes are on us. My heart trembles. I am under pressure. He has celebrity power and I am - for a minute - allowed to sit with the big man, and to ask him an uncomfortable question.

"First off, what have you heard?" he says.

"That you personally support Israel, and so does Starbucks. Listen, I'm not a journalist or anything, I just thought if Howard Schultz is right here in front of me I should ask," I say.

"And I am so glad you asked. Nothing could be further from the truth. I have repeatedly denied this. These are hoaxes, and they circulate on the internet, and they keep growing, and it's not true, and I don't know what to do to stop it," he says.

"Right," I say. I am still steadying myself. I try to breathe properly. I have been totally unprepared for this. I try to focus on his eyes, to steady myself. I see green eyes that seem friendly, gentle, but I also see eyes that say nothing, and I hear a voice that has adopted a tone of a politician. I feel he is practiced in this sort of situation.

"Do you believe it?" he asks.

"Well, I personally have been coming to Starbucks for over five years. But it bothers me," I say.

"I am Jewish, but I have always said that I would never, ever want Starbucks to be the reason for any harm to come to any Muslim or Arab citizen. I want peace in the region. I want the Arabs to live alongside the Israelis in peace, and I would never support one side over the other. I'm at my wit's end, what do I have to do to let people know?" he says.

"I don't know, put it on the front page of the Starbucks website," I say.

"And we have!" he says. "I don't know what more to do," he says.

"Besides, you have all these Arabs and Muslims who work in your shops, right?" I say.

"Not just that: We have many branches across the Middle East and they're doing really well. We have a partner too, from Kuwait. They are a Starbucks partner. Where are you from?" he says.

"Egypt," I say.

"Right, we've have had very successful stores in Egypt. We're growing," he says.

"You opened three branches in Egypt recently didn't you?" I say.

"Yes, we have some amazing stores in Egypt," volunteered one of the standing execs.

"The thing is, I remember reading this internet circular over five years ago that had the text of a speech you gave to an Israeli organisation that supports Israeli settlement-building in the Palestinian occupied territories," I say.

"All a hoax. I never ... ", he says.

"I mean, there's nothing wrong with that. Many Jews support Israeli settlements, and that's their right," I say.

"Right. I've always said I'm for a two-state solution: a situation where the Palestinians live side by side to the Israelis. I want them to live in peace," he says.

Something tells me that the speech is not a hoax, that he might possibly have supported settlement-building at some point in his life, but now regrets it.

"Please spread the word. Maybe if people blog about it more," he says.

Afterwards

"What do you do?" he asks.

I hand him a business card, and tell him about what I do. The head of operations in the UK asks me for a card too. The teenage exec hands me his card. Mr Schultz points at the Microsoft woman and tells me: "She works for Microsoft!"

Totally over-awed by the situation, I ask for a picture with Mr Schultz.

"Absolutely, we must," he said. "Hey what phone's that? Is it good? We were just talking about phones," he says.

Then the head of UK operations takes our picture on my mobile.

I shake hands with Mr Schultz again and they leave.

The teenage exec and his lady chum do not leave, they continue to sit close to me. Very pleased with myself, I turn to the teenage exec and say: "You know, I was in Seattle last summer!"

"Is that right?" he says dryly. He turns to his companion and resumes conversation; my time's up.


[Mr Schultz hung around the branch for about twenty minutes more. I don't know what he was doing, the party had moved to another part of the shop. Later, he posed for pictures in front of the shop with a small photo crew.]

[Before leaving, Mr Schultz and the teenage exec glanced at me excitedly typing on my laptop. Could they have guessed I'm blogging about it?]

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Monday, 23 March 2009

Is this all there is to it?

Tonight we put on another sketch show: eight prospective writers wrote a total of 22 sketches and performed them in front of an audience. This time, unlike last time, it was in radio-recording format; we stood with our scripts in front of the live audience and read out the scripts into studio-grade microphones.

It went well.

But I cannot get over this business of the 'down' that one feels after the initial 'high'. The initial high comes from having risen to the occasion. But the low, that feeling of 'is this all there is to it?', is proving hard to deal with. People ask you "so what next?", and you have no idea. More importantly, you don't know what you've gotten out of the whole experience. You end up talking quickly and excitedly, like a child, about what you'd like to do, and you feel none the wiser.

*

The first time I gave a proper lecture I got a massive high. I had stood in front of about 120 first-year students, captured their attention, explained things, been in charge, got nods of satisfaction, and along the way discovered I had become an instant role model for some of them, ...

I went to a friend who'd been in the teaching business one year longer than I.

"So, what now?" I said.

"Nothing," he said.

"What about the high? It feels great!" I said.

"Temporary. Look, I'll pass by for coffee later, okay," he said.

*

Mark D was a professor in his 30s at a university I used to teach at. He was an inspiring model for me. Oxford-educated, intelligent, an actor and performer in his university days, and a present-day pianist with his own jazz trio. His students adored him.

A Greek girl enthused to me about how he'd walk into the lecture hall looking like he'd just got up, mad hair everywhere (he was balding, and that's one of our ploys to hide it: mad hair), and then in the middle of the lecture, he'd stroll over to the piano and play. She felt he brought a touch of class that no other lecturer could match.

So when I got my PhD finally, I was keen to chat to Mark D about it. He offered me a cup of coffee in his office.

"PhD. Big deal, eh? You work hard, you think it'll be the culmination of your life, and then you get it and you're like 'so what?' Getting a PhD is like having a girlfriend. When you don't have one, you think everything'll get better when I have one. Then you find a girlfriend, and it's like 'yeah, big deal, now what.'" (Although I suspect he did not express his feelings in quite those words to his girlfriends.)

*

After an improvisation night in which I'd performed well, I walked home actually feeling depressed. An actress I knew at the time helped ease the hardship: "it's always like that after a performance, it's a sign you did well."

*

I was at a meeting of life-coaches on Friday night. I overheard an expressive lifecoach in her 30s (an American who now lives here) complaining about coaching a 25-years-old client. "Oh I'm so confused. My life's a mess. I have no goals," the client told her. She said she wanted to just break out of her professional mode for a while and shake the hell out of her. YOU'RE 25 YEARS OLD, YOU CAN DO WHATEVER THE HELL YOU WANT. SHUT UP. NOTHING'S RUINED FOR YOU. YOU HAVE TIME. YOU'RE OKAY. STOP WHINING.

I wanted to complete her logic for her: you have time, but I don't!

*

After tonight's show, in an attempt to celebrate our achievement, some of us went out for dinner. There was a guy with us - also a prospective writer - who is almost 20, although he looks 17.

Out of a desire to make conversation, he asked someone at the table "how old are you?" We all laughed. Only a young person would ask that question with such directness. The guy became defensive; he said he looked up to those older than him, knowing he was going to be like them one day, he said he did not at all feel like we were old uncles and aunts to him.

Then, for some reason, we had a moment of feeling for the guy, and out poured unsolicited advice to him. The main thrust of it was: enjoy your life, you have so many wonderful years ahead of you, do everything you want, it's all good, etc.

It is remarkable: this outpouring of angst that comes from people in their mid-to-late 30s when confronted with the question of age. In other societies, the older people would take the young guy under their wings, and patronise him as a 'kid', and he would show visible deference to them. In London tonight, at our dinner table, it resulted in a mass projection of unease over the "mislaid years". Why would you say the things we said unless you felt a deep unhappiness over your present situation, unless you felt a yearning for your youth!

Thankfully, I stepped in. (The lone voice of wisdom, I hear you say.)

I said: "But hang on, when he gets to our age, he'll also feel that he could have done more but didn't. He's not going to get to do everything."

Now I realise that even that was a wrong assessment. The truth is that we HAVE done a lot. Perhaps we wish we could go back and add more to what we did, but we've done A LOT. I have not been sitting on my bum doing nothing. The last few years have been frustrating in terms of the ambitions that have been diminished or slowed down, but there has been a lot of progress.

We now live in an age in which we are addicted to doing new things and more new things. We are addicted to doing whatever the hell we want. And sitting down to face someone who still has about 15 years of that guilt-free 'fun' ahead of him scares the hell out of us.

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