I'm disappointed in the New York Times. Usually, it's one of my favorite newspapers (and that probably tells you a lot about the type of person I am).
Did you see this article about 2 weeks ago? http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/12/world/middleeast/12saudi.html?scp=1&sq=saudi%20arabia%20dating&st=cse It's a story about young Saudis and how they are coping with new attitudes regarding dating and falling in love versus the conflicts with traditional culture. This article couldn't be more distant from the actual Saudi Arabia that I experience. I think the journalists probably needed to travel into the Bedouin areas of the desert to find people who live like this.
Last night, I was at dinner with some work collegues and their spouses. One side of the restaurant they called the "dating area". An area where young couples who are dating will sit together. It's next to the "family area" which means an area where women are allowed and is separate from the "men's area". OK, so I admit it's still a bit odd to have separate areas for men and women. But, nevertheless, young unmarried couples are sitting together in a restaurant sharing a shisha and having a coffee just like any other couples in the world (sans the booze).
It's things like this that get my goat. Really, how are Americans supposed to form a balanced perspective of the world when this is the type of story they read. And from a reputable paper, too. Couldn't the reporter have qualified his story by saying, "I traveled into the back of beyond in Saudi Arabia to find a family of sheep herders. . ." It just continues to feed the mindset that there is a huge chasm to fill between Saudi Arabia and the US. It's not right!!!
I mean really - Saudis are normal people. Giving. Generous. Kind, kind, kind - to the core. It's so much easier to put people into a hell-hole like Gitmo or torture them in Abu Ghraib when you can depersonalize them into a bunch of weirdos.
Can you tell I'm angry?
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Jeddah, Again
Hope those in the US are enjoying the long weekend.
Today I'm in Jeddah. I still feel a bit awkward at times when I'm here. Simple things - like I'm not sure if I can get in the front seat when my work collegue picks me up from the airport (which I can). And I'm not sure if I'm overreacting to the stories in the press or if it is technically not allowed. Probably a bit of both. There seem to be a lot of things here that are technically not allowed, but are commonly practiced. Like I'm not sure if I'm allowed to go to the mall next door without an escort. And if I would ask at work, they'd want to know why I wanted to go to some old dingy mall - which I don't - but I wonder if I can. Probably I can, but technically it's not allowed, maybe.
In the office, everyone is very welcoming. The women in the office are so happy to see me. It is so unusual to have a woman visit and I think that it is encouraging to them to see a woman who is treated as an equal on the management staff. Most of the office is non-Saudi men. They're all used to working in environments where women are a part of the workforce. And the Saudi men in the office have all received education outside of Saudi, so they too are comfortable working with women. I enjoy coming here and working with the team. It's a nice work environment.
We're getting close to the end of the school year. Lyra will be graduating from her nursery on Thursday. I'll be heading home from here on Wednesday to make sure that I can go to the graduation ceremony. I'm sure it will be an emotional experience. She's made some good friends, but they're all going to different schools next year. I will be sure to post some pictures of the event.
Today I'm in Jeddah. I still feel a bit awkward at times when I'm here. Simple things - like I'm not sure if I can get in the front seat when my work collegue picks me up from the airport (which I can). And I'm not sure if I'm overreacting to the stories in the press or if it is technically not allowed. Probably a bit of both. There seem to be a lot of things here that are technically not allowed, but are commonly practiced. Like I'm not sure if I'm allowed to go to the mall next door without an escort. And if I would ask at work, they'd want to know why I wanted to go to some old dingy mall - which I don't - but I wonder if I can. Probably I can, but technically it's not allowed, maybe.
In the office, everyone is very welcoming. The women in the office are so happy to see me. It is so unusual to have a woman visit and I think that it is encouraging to them to see a woman who is treated as an equal on the management staff. Most of the office is non-Saudi men. They're all used to working in environments where women are a part of the workforce. And the Saudi men in the office have all received education outside of Saudi, so they too are comfortable working with women. I enjoy coming here and working with the team. It's a nice work environment.
We're getting close to the end of the school year. Lyra will be graduating from her nursery on Thursday. I'll be heading home from here on Wednesday to make sure that I can go to the graduation ceremony. I'm sure it will be an emotional experience. She's made some good friends, but they're all going to different schools next year. I will be sure to post some pictures of the event.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Stressed? Get a Cat
While you're at it, get two.
A University of Minnesota research study has found that cat owners have a reduced risk of dying from a heart attack http://health.usnews.com/usnews/health/healthday/080221/cats-help-shield-owners-from-heart-attack.htm. Possibly dog owners have the same benefit, but there weren't enough dog owners in the study to draw conclusion.
The reduced risks were as low as taking heart or cholesterol medication - but without the risks or side effects of those drugs.
There's nothing like a purring kitty to calm your mind.
A University of Minnesota research study has found that cat owners have a reduced risk of dying from a heart attack http://health.usnews.com/usnews/health/healthday/080221/cats-help-shield-owners-from-heart-attack.htm. Possibly dog owners have the same benefit, but there weren't enough dog owners in the study to draw conclusion.
The reduced risks were as low as taking heart or cholesterol medication - but without the risks or side effects of those drugs.
There's nothing like a purring kitty to calm your mind.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Night Sounds
I don’t remember when I started listening to the night. Some of my most vivid childhood memories are of lying in bed, on the cusp of sleep, and listening to the world outside of my room.
When I was five or six,I spent a summer with my grandparents. They had put my bed out onto the breezeway right under the windows. I remember one night after being put to bed I put my nose up to the screen and listened to the sounds in the field below their house. The night was hot and humid and full of the stillness of a summer evening as fireflies flickered through my grandpa’s tomato plants. From across the field, a train passing by seemed so loud and clear I could hear the clack clack of the wheels on the rails. The diesel engine roared as the whistle blew to warn passing cars; one short whistle, one long – woo, wooooo. We had just ridden the train from Austin, TX to my grandparent’s and I wondered if our train had passed by the house on this set of tracks.
Today, that field behind my grandmother’s house has been filled with condos and my grandmother and aunt have moved into one of those new homes. When I sleep at their house I can still hear the trains on the exact same tracks as I lay in bed. Now, their whistles are muffled by the hum of the air conditioning and the closed windows; one short whistle, one long – woo, wooooo. The sound has the ability to transport me back to that hot summer evening in my bed on the breezeway
As a child, we often went on camping trips with families from our neighborhood. At bedtime, I loved to lie in my sleeping bag and listen to the grown ups sitting up late into the night. The flames of the fire would produce the occasional pop and send up crackling sparks into the darkness. A loud comment or laughter would rise above the mutter of conversation. Across the campsite, another parent check on their children; z-z-z-zip as they opened the tent, z-z-z-zip as they closed it. Someone would open a cooler and dig through the ice to get a drink and eventually I’d doze off. Later, I’d partially wake up as my parents came to bed. Z-z-z-zip as they opened the tent, z-z-z-zip as they closed it.
Now, I’m one of the grown ups sitting around the campfire. After dark, I put Lyra to bed in her tent before heading back over to visit and chat into the night. Z-z-z-zip as I open the tent, I blow her a kiss, z-z-z-zip as I close it. Later, as I snuggle into my sleeping bag, I listen to the low mutter of late night campers in nearby campsites and the crackle from their fire.
When we were in India, one of our hotel rooms had a set of French doors that led onto a veranda. I had carried a chair outside to sit and read my book in the cool night air. Next door to our hotel was a Catholic church where the mass and homily were broadcast on the loudspeakers out over the neighborhood. I listened to the preacher saying the mass in Hindi and the microphone would pick up the background sound of the congregational response. Even in Hindi, you can recognize “Lord, hear our prayer.” Off in the distance, a mosque started the call to prayer and somewhere was the sound of drums, chanting, and dancing. As everything quieted down and the evening turned to dusk, the tree above my head erupted into the loudest chorus of cicadas I’ve ever heard. Wzzz-wzzz-wzzz-wzzz. It was magical. I had just looked up from my book to enjoy the stillness of the settling darkness and then in unison the entire tree began to sing. I closed my book and sat there surrounded by the chirping; Wzzz-wzzz-wzzz-wzzz.
Here in Dubai, I love the sound of the early morning adhan (call to prayer.) Since the first prayer is before sunrise, the call these days is coming at around 4:15 in the morning. Many mornings I wake just enough to hear the chanting in the distance. Allah akbar, allah akbar (God is the greatest.) I love knowing that I have another hour before I need to get up. We have two mosques near enough to hear the prayers. I always stay awake long enough to hear both of the muezzins. One has a rough, gravelly voice and the other has a lyrical “Gregorian” style to his calls. Sometimes, I’m still awake 15 minutes later when they broadcast the prayers, but usually I’ve drifted back to sleep.
At Lyra’s bedtime, the final call to prayer is chanted. Allah akbar, allah akbar; one gravelly voice and one lyrical. Lyra looks at me and says, “It’s time for me to be asleep.”
When I was five or six,I spent a summer with my grandparents. They had put my bed out onto the breezeway right under the windows. I remember one night after being put to bed I put my nose up to the screen and listened to the sounds in the field below their house. The night was hot and humid and full of the stillness of a summer evening as fireflies flickered through my grandpa’s tomato plants. From across the field, a train passing by seemed so loud and clear I could hear the clack clack of the wheels on the rails. The diesel engine roared as the whistle blew to warn passing cars; one short whistle, one long – woo, wooooo. We had just ridden the train from Austin, TX to my grandparent’s and I wondered if our train had passed by the house on this set of tracks.
Today, that field behind my grandmother’s house has been filled with condos and my grandmother and aunt have moved into one of those new homes. When I sleep at their house I can still hear the trains on the exact same tracks as I lay in bed. Now, their whistles are muffled by the hum of the air conditioning and the closed windows; one short whistle, one long – woo, wooooo. The sound has the ability to transport me back to that hot summer evening in my bed on the breezeway
As a child, we often went on camping trips with families from our neighborhood. At bedtime, I loved to lie in my sleeping bag and listen to the grown ups sitting up late into the night. The flames of the fire would produce the occasional pop and send up crackling sparks into the darkness. A loud comment or laughter would rise above the mutter of conversation. Across the campsite, another parent check on their children; z-z-z-zip as they opened the tent, z-z-z-zip as they closed it. Someone would open a cooler and dig through the ice to get a drink and eventually I’d doze off. Later, I’d partially wake up as my parents came to bed. Z-z-z-zip as they opened the tent, z-z-z-zip as they closed it.
Now, I’m one of the grown ups sitting around the campfire. After dark, I put Lyra to bed in her tent before heading back over to visit and chat into the night. Z-z-z-zip as I open the tent, I blow her a kiss, z-z-z-zip as I close it. Later, as I snuggle into my sleeping bag, I listen to the low mutter of late night campers in nearby campsites and the crackle from their fire.
When we were in India, one of our hotel rooms had a set of French doors that led onto a veranda. I had carried a chair outside to sit and read my book in the cool night air. Next door to our hotel was a Catholic church where the mass and homily were broadcast on the loudspeakers out over the neighborhood. I listened to the preacher saying the mass in Hindi and the microphone would pick up the background sound of the congregational response. Even in Hindi, you can recognize “Lord, hear our prayer.” Off in the distance, a mosque started the call to prayer and somewhere was the sound of drums, chanting, and dancing. As everything quieted down and the evening turned to dusk, the tree above my head erupted into the loudest chorus of cicadas I’ve ever heard. Wzzz-wzzz-wzzz-wzzz. It was magical. I had just looked up from my book to enjoy the stillness of the settling darkness and then in unison the entire tree began to sing. I closed my book and sat there surrounded by the chirping; Wzzz-wzzz-wzzz-wzzz.
Here in Dubai, I love the sound of the early morning adhan (call to prayer.) Since the first prayer is before sunrise, the call these days is coming at around 4:15 in the morning. Many mornings I wake just enough to hear the chanting in the distance. Allah akbar, allah akbar (God is the greatest.) I love knowing that I have another hour before I need to get up. We have two mosques near enough to hear the prayers. I always stay awake long enough to hear both of the muezzins. One has a rough, gravelly voice and the other has a lyrical “Gregorian” style to his calls. Sometimes, I’m still awake 15 minutes later when they broadcast the prayers, but usually I’ve drifted back to sleep.
At Lyra’s bedtime, the final call to prayer is chanted. Allah akbar, allah akbar; one gravelly voice and one lyrical. Lyra looks at me and says, “It’s time for me to be asleep.”
Guys Named Vikram
Do you remember that I mentioned earlier that India wasn't really on my list of places to travel? Not that I had anything against India, it just hadn't piqued my interest. Which is surprising really because two of the most enjoyable books I've read have both been set in India.
The first, is my all time favorite book. A Suitable Boy, by Vikram Seth. It's full of characters and multiple stories that converge upon one another. The main tale is about a Hindi family that is trying to find a "suitable boy" for their daughter to marry and meantime she falls in love with a Muslim boy. As I learned in this book - that's not something that's going to make the parents happy. I loved this book so much that I actually started reading it more and more slowly so that it wouldn't end. It's over 1,000 pages, so really there was no reason to want it to last longer. But I did. It was the first time I had read anything set in India (well, no, actually I think I had read Passage to India) but anyway I was just so enthralled with the characters and the history (it is set just after Partition). Later, I lent it to a friend and never got it back and I love it so much that I bought another copy - just so I could have it in my collection. Since then, I've read everything I can get my hands on by Vikram Seth.
Now, I'm just finishing a book called Sacred Games, by Vikram Chandra. You'd think I have a thing for guys named Vikram. This book is as big and bold as a Bollywood movie. The main characters are a Hindi gangster warlord, a Sikh cop, a corrupt politician, and an egotistical guru. It's set mostly in modern day Mumbai with flashbacks to other parts of India. This too is about 1,000 pages (so that makes 3 books I've read about India that are all 1,000 pages) and as I'm nearing the end I'm tempted to slow down except that there's a mystery to what's going on and I'm eager to find out the ending.
To be fair, I started Sacred Games while we were on our trip in India - so I really hadn't read it to have it prompt my interest to visit. But it sure was fun to read it while we were actually there - made many of the images in the book much more vibrant.
After this, I think I'm going to read A Suitable Boy again.
The first, is my all time favorite book. A Suitable Boy, by Vikram Seth. It's full of characters and multiple stories that converge upon one another. The main tale is about a Hindi family that is trying to find a "suitable boy" for their daughter to marry and meantime she falls in love with a Muslim boy. As I learned in this book - that's not something that's going to make the parents happy. I loved this book so much that I actually started reading it more and more slowly so that it wouldn't end. It's over 1,000 pages, so really there was no reason to want it to last longer. But I did. It was the first time I had read anything set in India (well, no, actually I think I had read Passage to India) but anyway I was just so enthralled with the characters and the history (it is set just after Partition). Later, I lent it to a friend and never got it back and I love it so much that I bought another copy - just so I could have it in my collection. Since then, I've read everything I can get my hands on by Vikram Seth.
Now, I'm just finishing a book called Sacred Games, by Vikram Chandra. You'd think I have a thing for guys named Vikram. This book is as big and bold as a Bollywood movie. The main characters are a Hindi gangster warlord, a Sikh cop, a corrupt politician, and an egotistical guru. It's set mostly in modern day Mumbai with flashbacks to other parts of India. This too is about 1,000 pages (so that makes 3 books I've read about India that are all 1,000 pages) and as I'm nearing the end I'm tempted to slow down except that there's a mystery to what's going on and I'm eager to find out the ending.
To be fair, I started Sacred Games while we were on our trip in India - so I really hadn't read it to have it prompt my interest to visit. But it sure was fun to read it while we were actually there - made many of the images in the book much more vibrant.
After this, I think I'm going to read A Suitable Boy again.
Monday, May 19, 2008
A Maid
So, we're getting a maid - I think. We have found some neighbors who want to sponsor a maid, but they don't have a maid's quarters. They are required to provide housing - and we have a maid's quarters, but don't know what we'd do with a full-time maid. Really, there's not enough to keep one person busy here at our house. So, it seems to be a great arrangement. We'll provide the accommodation and they provide the sponsorship and then we'll share her time. Actually, there will be 3 families sharing, but we haven't sorted all the details.
Technically, it's illegal to share a maid. I'm not sure why. Up until now, we've been getting by with paying some of the neighboring maids/house boys to come by once per week to clean up. At first, it was working pretty well. We had a guy from down the street coming by 2x/week. He was ok, not great. But the house was clean and pretty tidy. Then, he went home to Sri Lanka for December and when he came back - he never came back to start cleaning again. Long story.
So, for several months we did without. Boy was our house a pit! I hate cleaning and this place is SO DUSTY that you really need to dust and mop the floors at least once per week or else you start to feel the grime on the bottoms of our feet. Then we found that a neighboring maid was looking for some extra hours on her day off. Thing is, she's not so reliable. Sometimes she comes and sometimes she doesn't. She's really good, but we can go 3-4 weeks without a cleaning and by then I'm ready to climb the walls.
So, I'm hoping this situation with the neighbors works out. All we want is some cleaning on a regular basis. Plus it will be nice to have access to child care. There doesn't seem to be any baby sitting teenagers in this country. What's up with that! Everyone relies on their maids or the neighbors maids for child care. We've been out only 3 times since moving here. So, that's got to change.
Will be odd to get used to having someone living at our house. She'll have her own private quarters (bedroom and bathroom) with her own private entrance. So, she can come and go as she pleases. But if she wants to cook anything, or get something from the fridge, she'll need to come into the house to use the kitchen. I've seen some houses that give the maid's quarters an entrance to the kitchen - which would be nice for her to feel like she could get into the kitchen without having to disturb us. But hopefully she soon feels comfortable being here with us (and us with her).
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Talking with Lyra
On Tuesday, Lyra woke up and complained of a headache. Nothing much - she still went to school. After school, she went to ballet. On the way home, she complained of a headache again. She told me, "When we got home, I said to Baba, 'Baba, we should take my temperature.' 'We're not taking your temperature,' he told me. [Note: taking her temperature is a frequent request from Lyra.] But when we took it it said 1-0-2. And Baba said to me, 'I should listen to my daughter more often.'"
I asked her, "Do you like taking your temperature because it's fun?"
"No," she said, "I take my temperature because we should know if I'm sick."
[point taken]
Later on, the subject moved to school. She and her friend, Meera, are both very strong personalities. At times, they end up fighting or arguing. Lyra was upset because she felt Meera had fibbed. Lyra told me, "I asked her, 'Meera, why did you fib about that?' and she told me, 'It was a joke.' I said, 'That's not a very funny joke.' Mama, doesn't Meera's mama teach her not to fib?"
"Of course she does, but when you're five, you're still learning and sometimes you make mistakes," I said.
"We-ell, sometimes I say things to Meera and I know it's not nice and then she says things that aren't nice and I think, 'I shouldn't say that.' And I know it's not nice. And then sometimes Meera will go like this (sticking out her toungue) and that's not a nice thing to do. And I think, 'Why is she sticking her toungue out at me? Doesn't she know that's not nice?!?' And today Meera told me not to play with Inaya, but I told her 'I haven't seen Inaya all week.' Why did she tell me not to play with Inaya?"
"Sometimes it's hard to share," I said. "But I'm glad you still played with Inaya."
I asked her, "Do you like taking your temperature because it's fun?"
"No," she said, "I take my temperature because we should know if I'm sick."
[point taken]
Later on, the subject moved to school. She and her friend, Meera, are both very strong personalities. At times, they end up fighting or arguing. Lyra was upset because she felt Meera had fibbed. Lyra told me, "I asked her, 'Meera, why did you fib about that?' and she told me, 'It was a joke.' I said, 'That's not a very funny joke.' Mama, doesn't Meera's mama teach her not to fib?"
"Of course she does, but when you're five, you're still learning and sometimes you make mistakes," I said.
"We-ell, sometimes I say things to Meera and I know it's not nice and then she says things that aren't nice and I think, 'I shouldn't say that.' And I know it's not nice. And then sometimes Meera will go like this (sticking out her toungue) and that's not a nice thing to do. And I think, 'Why is she sticking her toungue out at me? Doesn't she know that's not nice?!?' And today Meera told me not to play with Inaya, but I told her 'I haven't seen Inaya all week.' Why did she tell me not to play with Inaya?"
"Sometimes it's hard to share," I said. "But I'm glad you still played with Inaya."
How many ways can you pronounce "th"?
Lyra has numerous ways:
What's dat?
Dat's noffing.
I sink so.
But I can't think of a word where she uses the "TH" sound.
She even corrects her friends.
Lyra: Mama, why does Meera say 'some-FING'? It's 'some-SING'.
Me: Actually, it's 'some-THING'. TH-TH-TH. Can you say, TH?
Lyra: Nu-uh, it's some-SING.
Me: Well, it's not.
[What I really wanted to say was, "Hey little smartie pants. I've been speaking English 40 years longer than you. I should think I'd know if it's some-SING or some-THING. "]
What's dat?
Dat's noffing.
I sink so.
But I can't think of a word where she uses the "TH" sound.
She even corrects her friends.
Lyra: Mama, why does Meera say 'some-FING'? It's 'some-SING'.
Me: Actually, it's 'some-THING'. TH-TH-TH. Can you say, TH?
Lyra: Nu-uh, it's some-SING.
Me: Well, it's not.
[What I really wanted to say was, "Hey little smartie pants. I've been speaking English 40 years longer than you. I should think I'd know if it's some-SING or some-THING. "]
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
60th Anniversary of the Creation of Isreal
Here, in the Arab world, they call it "Al Nakba", the catastrophe. The formation of Israel as a Jewish state continues to reverberate through this area of the world and influence the decisions that affect people everywhere. I say this without hyperbole. The Arab view of what happened during the formation of Isreal reverberates today in how countries treat one another.
People of my generation - of my parent's generation - weren't alive or old enough to recall the events that lead to where we are today. Most don't understand the context or even try to understand the decisions that were made and the options that were avaialbable. From a purely historical point of view (without regard to political or religious beliefs), the formation of Israel is a great example of Westerners drafting agreements without understanding the regional context. I'm not saying the formation of Israel was a mistake, but the WAY in which it was created, the land that now forms Israel, the lack of international administration in shared holy areas (like Jerusalem) - these all contribute to the inequity felt by Arabs about what happened. And subsequently, the addition of new lands to Israel through wars and fighting continue to add to the injustice felt in this region. It could have been accomplished in so many other ways - and possibly left us in a completely different place than we are today.
Over a million Palestinians were displaced during the formation of Israel. They fled as refugees to countries throughout this region. To this day, many remain without a country or without citizenship. After 4 generations, many have given up hope and they have immigrated to other countries, given up their Palestinian "citizenship", and are integrated into the cultures of countries around the world. But many haven't given up hope, or are in countries (like the UAE) who do not offer them the opportunity for citizenship. So, they remain in limbo. They have no citizenship to any country - they carry Palestinian identity papers and have no passport.
At one time the Arab countries were very generous to the Palestinian refugees. But even in this region there is a sense of fatigue about the situation. There are fewer and fewer opportunities for Palestinians to apply for citizenship in Arab countries. The benefits and support they once received are being reduced or eliminated. Ironically, they are now turning to countries in the West where they are more easily able to apply for citizenship and integration into society.
In the US, we view these things as history, something that happened 60 years ago. "What's done is done," seems to be the opinion of many - if they even have an opinion. "Why can't 'they' (meaning both Jews and Arabs) just accept that and then move on?" It's difficult to generate any emotion in the US about a situation that is so far away. But here, it's not history - it's today's reality. The emotions are real and are felt today - especially on this 60th anniversary. It's too close to ignore. The historical sense of injustice continues to be felt. The wounds have never healed.
It's a tragedy that we are where we are. Who can say what the solution is? Not even the "experts" seem to know. The only way we can move forward is to really try and understand the past, understand the emotions, and demonstrate our commitment to justice.
For an arab perspective:
http://www.gulfnews.com/opinion/columns/region/10213011.html
People of my generation - of my parent's generation - weren't alive or old enough to recall the events that lead to where we are today. Most don't understand the context or even try to understand the decisions that were made and the options that were avaialbable. From a purely historical point of view (without regard to political or religious beliefs), the formation of Israel is a great example of Westerners drafting agreements without understanding the regional context. I'm not saying the formation of Israel was a mistake, but the WAY in which it was created, the land that now forms Israel, the lack of international administration in shared holy areas (like Jerusalem) - these all contribute to the inequity felt by Arabs about what happened. And subsequently, the addition of new lands to Israel through wars and fighting continue to add to the injustice felt in this region. It could have been accomplished in so many other ways - and possibly left us in a completely different place than we are today.
Over a million Palestinians were displaced during the formation of Israel. They fled as refugees to countries throughout this region. To this day, many remain without a country or without citizenship. After 4 generations, many have given up hope and they have immigrated to other countries, given up their Palestinian "citizenship", and are integrated into the cultures of countries around the world. But many haven't given up hope, or are in countries (like the UAE) who do not offer them the opportunity for citizenship. So, they remain in limbo. They have no citizenship to any country - they carry Palestinian identity papers and have no passport.
At one time the Arab countries were very generous to the Palestinian refugees. But even in this region there is a sense of fatigue about the situation. There are fewer and fewer opportunities for Palestinians to apply for citizenship in Arab countries. The benefits and support they once received are being reduced or eliminated. Ironically, they are now turning to countries in the West where they are more easily able to apply for citizenship and integration into society.
In the US, we view these things as history, something that happened 60 years ago. "What's done is done," seems to be the opinion of many - if they even have an opinion. "Why can't 'they' (meaning both Jews and Arabs) just accept that and then move on?" It's difficult to generate any emotion in the US about a situation that is so far away. But here, it's not history - it's today's reality. The emotions are real and are felt today - especially on this 60th anniversary. It's too close to ignore. The historical sense of injustice continues to be felt. The wounds have never healed.
It's a tragedy that we are where we are. Who can say what the solution is? Not even the "experts" seem to know. The only way we can move forward is to really try and understand the past, understand the emotions, and demonstrate our commitment to justice.
For an arab perspective:
http://www.gulfnews.com/opinion/columns/region/10213011.html
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Bye, Clive
Well, we decided that Clive wasn't working out for us. Primary reason (and we haven't told the charity this) is that he nipped our neighbor when he came over for a visit. No blood or anything, but aggressive behavior and a nip on the bum. Luckily it was Neil, the dad, and not Rose, the young daughter. And luckily it was through his jeans and not directly on his skin.
This after he had the car wash guy cornered in the garage earlier the same day. Poor fellow was protecting himself with a work bench. I was yelling and grabbing for him (Clive) - but he was fixated on protecting the house. Once he gets into his protective behavior, he will not obey either Russell or I.
Added to that is his behavior towards the cats. Somehow, he and Jet Girl have reached detente. But Peter still spends most of his day upstairs and away from the dog. Even when Clive is in his kennel. I think some of Peter's recent weight loss can be attributed to the stress of the dog barking and growling each time he sees Peter.
This all makes him sound like a bad dog. He's not. At home with us, he's a real sweetheart. A very clever dog who loves his family. But he's not into strangers or cats. And really if it weren't for the fact that he nipped the neighbor, I'd probably get all soft hearted and keep him.
I asked Lyra this morning if she'd miss Clive. "No," she said. "I don't like him jumping up on me." It was difficult for her to get attached to him. He jumped on her when he was excited, jumped up to see what food she had in her plate as she carried it to the table, jumped on her when she was going in the door to try and get inside. She did learn how to be firm with him - which is a good thing to know. Many times he would listen to her and get down, for a moment. And then he'd jump back up again.
I've learned from this that as much as puppies are hard work, I'd rather get a puppy and train him with good behaviors than to get a dog we don't know and try to break bad habits. Or if we did get an older dog, I'd like to know the background and habits first.
This after he had the car wash guy cornered in the garage earlier the same day. Poor fellow was protecting himself with a work bench. I was yelling and grabbing for him (Clive) - but he was fixated on protecting the house. Once he gets into his protective behavior, he will not obey either Russell or I.
Added to that is his behavior towards the cats. Somehow, he and Jet Girl have reached detente. But Peter still spends most of his day upstairs and away from the dog. Even when Clive is in his kennel. I think some of Peter's recent weight loss can be attributed to the stress of the dog barking and growling each time he sees Peter.
This all makes him sound like a bad dog. He's not. At home with us, he's a real sweetheart. A very clever dog who loves his family. But he's not into strangers or cats. And really if it weren't for the fact that he nipped the neighbor, I'd probably get all soft hearted and keep him.
I asked Lyra this morning if she'd miss Clive. "No," she said. "I don't like him jumping up on me." It was difficult for her to get attached to him. He jumped on her when he was excited, jumped up to see what food she had in her plate as she carried it to the table, jumped on her when she was going in the door to try and get inside. She did learn how to be firm with him - which is a good thing to know. Many times he would listen to her and get down, for a moment. And then he'd jump back up again.
I've learned from this that as much as puppies are hard work, I'd rather get a puppy and train him with good behaviors than to get a dog we don't know and try to break bad habits. Or if we did get an older dog, I'd like to know the background and habits first.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
School Choices
We're debating about what school to put Lyra in next year.
Our preference would be to keep her in Montessori, but that isn't available. So, we're down to looking at two different schools. Each offers their own advantages and it's really difficult to try and decide which way to go. So, I'm looking for opinions. What would sway you?
School #1
1. Is accredited by the American School system (not that this will really matter until she's doing standardized testing - which I think starts in 3rd or 4th grade).
2. Uses the International Baccalaureat curriculum - which we really like. It seems to have the closest relationship to Montessori principles.
3. Primarily expat families. Not just American or Canadian, but from all over the world. A smaller population of local families. Perhaps this would make it easier for Russell and I to meet the parents and make some friends.
4. Arabic is taught as a foreign language, but the entire curriculum is in English.
5. Full-day school day (8am to 3pm). I think both Lyra and Russell are ready for her to go for a longer school day.
School #2
1. Is also accredited by the American School systems.
2. Uses Montessori teaching principles in the Kindergaten classrooms. Is not a Montessori school, but has 2 Montessori trained teachers on the staff and they are applying many of the learning principles in the classroom and using some of the Montessori materials.
3. Primarily local families. The curriculum is taught in English and Arabic. Lyra would truly have a chance to learn to speak Arabic in this school.
4. One of her best friends from school now will be attending this school. We've kind of come to know her mother - and I really like her mom (not that we're buddies or anything), but she's really a neat person. So, maybe also a way to continue getting to know that family.
5. Half-day school day (7:45 to 12:30). We'd be able to enroll her in ballet, horseback riding, piano lessons, etc. to help keep her days busy.
Rebecca said...
Ohhh .... Love the IBC school - really opens the future for Lyra if she sticks with it (since you guys seem to be a traveling family!)
Learning Arabic would be so cool too though ...
These two items are exactly what is making it hard for me.
IB school - v. - going to a local school and learning Arabic - When else in her life will she have this opportunity?
Our preference would be to keep her in Montessori, but that isn't available. So, we're down to looking at two different schools. Each offers their own advantages and it's really difficult to try and decide which way to go. So, I'm looking for opinions. What would sway you?
School #1
1. Is accredited by the American School system (not that this will really matter until she's doing standardized testing - which I think starts in 3rd or 4th grade).
2. Uses the International Baccalaureat curriculum - which we really like. It seems to have the closest relationship to Montessori principles.
3. Primarily expat families. Not just American or Canadian, but from all over the world. A smaller population of local families. Perhaps this would make it easier for Russell and I to meet the parents and make some friends.
4. Arabic is taught as a foreign language, but the entire curriculum is in English.
5. Full-day school day (8am to 3pm). I think both Lyra and Russell are ready for her to go for a longer school day.
School #2
1. Is also accredited by the American School systems.
2. Uses Montessori teaching principles in the Kindergaten classrooms. Is not a Montessori school, but has 2 Montessori trained teachers on the staff and they are applying many of the learning principles in the classroom and using some of the Montessori materials.
3. Primarily local families. The curriculum is taught in English and Arabic. Lyra would truly have a chance to learn to speak Arabic in this school.
4. One of her best friends from school now will be attending this school. We've kind of come to know her mother - and I really like her mom (not that we're buddies or anything), but she's really a neat person. So, maybe also a way to continue getting to know that family.
5. Half-day school day (7:45 to 12:30). We'd be able to enroll her in ballet, horseback riding, piano lessons, etc. to help keep her days busy.
Rebecca said...
Ohhh .... Love the IBC school - really opens the future for Lyra if she sticks with it (since you guys seem to be a traveling family!)
Learning Arabic would be so cool too though ...
These two items are exactly what is making it hard for me.
IB school - v. - going to a local school and learning Arabic - When else in her life will she have this opportunity?
Thursday, May 8, 2008
It Was Fake
I found out today, that Tuesday's rain and thunderstorms were Man Made - a fake!
http://www.gulfnews.com/nation/Environment/10211450.html
I'm now feeling justified in my doubt that the clouds would actually produce rain. Under natural circumstances - it is unheard of to have rain in May.
http://www.gulfnews.com/nation/Environment/10211450.html
I'm now feeling justified in my doubt that the clouds would actually produce rain. Under natural circumstances - it is unheard of to have rain in May.
Cowboy Kitty
When we first got Peter, he was a tiny fellow. We saved his life! At over 1 year old, he was about 6 lbs and had a horrible upper respitory infection. The first day he was home, he curled up on the couch when we were heading out to a movie. Three hours later, we came back to find him in the same place. He was so skinny that when he walked around you could see the curves in his hips. He had bowed legs and looked like he'd spent his whole life on the back of a horse - like a cowboy. So, I started calling him Cowboy Kitty.
We really got worried when he wouldn't eat. We took him to the vet and she gave us antibiotics for the upper respitory infection and then gave him injections of fluid to help him recover from dehydration. We kept a close eye on him, but still he wouldn't eat. So, back to the vet and she gave him valium - which is an appetite stimulant - and told us to buy human baby food, the pureed meat.
After we returned home from our second vet visit, we put him down in front of a plate of warmed pureed meat. Peter started eating with gusto and after finishing the food, started rubbing his face and entire body all over the plate. The valium worked! Unfortunately, it just kept on working because he just kept on eating and eating and eating. Is there a valium antidote that we were supposed to take him in for?
By 2001, after 6 years in our care (and the care of my brother who pitched in when we moved to London), Peter had reached the size of a small ocelot. He was 23 lbs. Yes - twenty-three pounds. Gone were the cute bowed legs - they were hidden under his huge girth. And gone was his Cowboy Kitty nickname.
So, he went on a diet. The vet advised us that we'd need to go slowly. He would need to lose less than 1/4 lb a month or else run the risk of kidney damage. Over the next years, he gradually slimmed down to about 15 lbs before we came to Dubai. For a cat his size, this seemed a healthy weight. But since we've been here, he has continued to slim down to the point where we were worried about his health. A couple of weeks ago, he weighed 10 lbs.
We took him to the vet here and he diagnosed a parasite that seemed to be gone, but was still causing some pain on Peter's chin (there was a raw spot under his chin that seemed to itch and would bleed when scratched). At first, he asked us to see if it would heal on its own, but it seemed to just get worse. Peter would scratch it and he was bleeding all the time. But when it didn't get better, he gave us some medication. He said, "I didn't want to use this, but I guess we will." We would soon understand the reason for these ominous words.
I don't know what the official name is - but unofficially this stuff should be called "Cujo Transformation Salve". When we swab a small amount of the salve on the raw spot on his chin it instantly produces huge gobs of saliva and drool. Instantly! (Warning: Cover your eyes if you're squeemish). Like a rabid bull mastif, the gobs of drool hang from the corner of his mouth in huge gooey strings to the floor. He cowers in a corner (poor thing) and breaths rapidly while pools of slimy spit form around him. The effects seem to last for about 30 minutes.
We've administered this medication twice. The first time, Russell was alone and I wasn't there to witness. Later, Russell told me, "I don't like that medication. It makes Peter drool." That's it. Drool. But it seemed to work - so, I insisted on putting it on a second time when I could see that Peter still had a few raw spots that were bleeding. This time, I was there to witness the transformation. WOW! Drool?!?! Yes - he's drooling all right. I tried to catch some of the gooey strings with a paper towel and Peter swatted me. Ohhh boy was he mad!! So, that's it for the Cujo Transformation Salve. No more of that.
In the meantime, skinny Peter's back to being called Cowboy Kitty again. And he's eating again. And we're feeding him as much as we can - trying to get him back up to a healthy weight.
We really got worried when he wouldn't eat. We took him to the vet and she gave us antibiotics for the upper respitory infection and then gave him injections of fluid to help him recover from dehydration. We kept a close eye on him, but still he wouldn't eat. So, back to the vet and she gave him valium - which is an appetite stimulant - and told us to buy human baby food, the pureed meat.
After we returned home from our second vet visit, we put him down in front of a plate of warmed pureed meat. Peter started eating with gusto and after finishing the food, started rubbing his face and entire body all over the plate. The valium worked! Unfortunately, it just kept on working because he just kept on eating and eating and eating. Is there a valium antidote that we were supposed to take him in for?
By 2001, after 6 years in our care (and the care of my brother who pitched in when we moved to London), Peter had reached the size of a small ocelot. He was 23 lbs. Yes - twenty-three pounds. Gone were the cute bowed legs - they were hidden under his huge girth. And gone was his Cowboy Kitty nickname.
So, he went on a diet. The vet advised us that we'd need to go slowly. He would need to lose less than 1/4 lb a month or else run the risk of kidney damage. Over the next years, he gradually slimmed down to about 15 lbs before we came to Dubai. For a cat his size, this seemed a healthy weight. But since we've been here, he has continued to slim down to the point where we were worried about his health. A couple of weeks ago, he weighed 10 lbs.
We took him to the vet here and he diagnosed a parasite that seemed to be gone, but was still causing some pain on Peter's chin (there was a raw spot under his chin that seemed to itch and would bleed when scratched). At first, he asked us to see if it would heal on its own, but it seemed to just get worse. Peter would scratch it and he was bleeding all the time. But when it didn't get better, he gave us some medication. He said, "I didn't want to use this, but I guess we will." We would soon understand the reason for these ominous words.
I don't know what the official name is - but unofficially this stuff should be called "Cujo Transformation Salve". When we swab a small amount of the salve on the raw spot on his chin it instantly produces huge gobs of saliva and drool. Instantly! (Warning: Cover your eyes if you're squeemish). Like a rabid bull mastif, the gobs of drool hang from the corner of his mouth in huge gooey strings to the floor. He cowers in a corner (poor thing) and breaths rapidly while pools of slimy spit form around him. The effects seem to last for about 30 minutes.
We've administered this medication twice. The first time, Russell was alone and I wasn't there to witness. Later, Russell told me, "I don't like that medication. It makes Peter drool." That's it. Drool. But it seemed to work - so, I insisted on putting it on a second time when I could see that Peter still had a few raw spots that were bleeding. This time, I was there to witness the transformation. WOW! Drool?!?! Yes - he's drooling all right. I tried to catch some of the gooey strings with a paper towel and Peter swatted me. Ohhh boy was he mad!! So, that's it for the Cujo Transformation Salve. No more of that.
In the meantime, skinny Peter's back to being called Cowboy Kitty again. And he's eating again. And we're feeding him as much as we can - trying to get him back up to a healthy weight.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
It's HOT
Well, there's no denying that hot weather has arrived. Yesterday, our temps topped 40C for the first time this year (43 was the high = 109F). I still can't call it scorching, that weather is still to come.
It's so hot that not even a breeze offers any sense of relief. The wind just manages to stir up the heat, swirl it around, and then blow it into your face. Can it actually be hotter with a breeze in your face? Yes, it can.
We still manage to get some comfortable temps in the evening and through the night (around 25C to 30C at night). But that will soon be over, and it will just be hot, hot, hot - daytime and nighttime. All the time. I find it a bit disorienting to walk outside into a dark evening and have it be HOT! HOT! HOT! Or into an underground parking garage - and it is HOT! These days are coming.
Today, I drove into the city and it looked like a huge thunderstorm was developing. I knew better than to get my hopes up that there'd be any actual rain. But it sure was dark and gloomy. As I approached my office, a huge streak of lightening went across the sky. The thunder up in the clouds was nearly continuous. When I got up to my office, all my doubts of actual rain appearing were proven wrong. We actually had a rain storm. Well, a small burst of rain. Enough to wet the pavement, but not enough to for puddles or streams. I wonder how many 100's of years it has been since there was rain in May.
You know what happens when you get just a few spots of rain in this place? Everything gets covered with spots of mud. Because the rain picks up so much dust as it falls, it actually rains mud. I think we have some laundry hanging out on the patio - I'll have to see what damage was done when I get home this evening.
It's so hot that not even a breeze offers any sense of relief. The wind just manages to stir up the heat, swirl it around, and then blow it into your face. Can it actually be hotter with a breeze in your face? Yes, it can.
We still manage to get some comfortable temps in the evening and through the night (around 25C to 30C at night). But that will soon be over, and it will just be hot, hot, hot - daytime and nighttime. All the time. I find it a bit disorienting to walk outside into a dark evening and have it be HOT! HOT! HOT! Or into an underground parking garage - and it is HOT! These days are coming.
Today, I drove into the city and it looked like a huge thunderstorm was developing. I knew better than to get my hopes up that there'd be any actual rain. But it sure was dark and gloomy. As I approached my office, a huge streak of lightening went across the sky. The thunder up in the clouds was nearly continuous. When I got up to my office, all my doubts of actual rain appearing were proven wrong. We actually had a rain storm. Well, a small burst of rain. Enough to wet the pavement, but not enough to for puddles or streams. I wonder how many 100's of years it has been since there was rain in May.
You know what happens when you get just a few spots of rain in this place? Everything gets covered with spots of mud. Because the rain picks up so much dust as it falls, it actually rains mud. I think we have some laundry hanging out on the patio - I'll have to see what damage was done when I get home this evening.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Um Ali
Yummmm.
There is a dessert here that is the ultimate in comfort food. Um Ali. More like Yum Ali to me. It is the ulitmate in bread pudding. If you're a bread pudding fan, and I am, there is nothing more disappointing and a waste of calories than dry, bland bread pudding - even with a whiskey sauce spice it up. To me, it needs to be soft, gooey, creamy, sweet, and hot. I order bread pudding from all over the world, and finally I've found the answer to my dreams. Um Ali. It is everything I want bread pudding to be.
The bread absorbs the cream and sugar to become soft and velvety in your mouth. As you are enjoying the warm creamy goodness, you run across a small chewy morsel - either almond or pistachio. Many recipes call for sultanas (golden raisins). And the secret ingredient is a small addition of rose water syrup - just a hint of floral aromas to make you wonder, hmmm what is that?
All Arabic cuisines - Egyptian, Lebanese, Syrian, Emirati, Saudi, etc -claim that Um Ali is theirs. Each chef has her/his own signature ingredient to slightly alter the flavors: cardamom, cinnamon, rose water, coconut, or cashews. But it's all good - every single time. No buffet would be complete without Um Ali on the dessert table.
Yesterday, Lyra was invited to a birthday party for a classmate, Abdulrahman. It was our first invitation to an Arab household since we arrived. Many of her classmates were there and I sat and visited with the moms. We were: Lebanese, Indian, Greek (now Emirati by marriage), Palestinian, and American. When I arrived I had failed to catch the name of Abdulrahman's (Aboud for short) mother and I asked the moms at the table, "What is her name?" They said, "Um Aboud" which means mother of Aboud and then struggled to remember her given name, Abeer. In the Gulf Arab culture, when a woman has her first son, they call her "Um [name of eldest son]". The other Arab mothers, Lebanese and Palastinian, didn't have the same tradition in their cultures. The Greek mother in our group, Miriam, said that she has struggled to get used to being called Um Majid (her son's name). Everyone in her husband's family calls her this - and she says she always forgets to answer until they call out her name, Miriam. I will ask her, but I think that Miriam is her Muslim name. Many people will take a new name if they convert to Islam - which I'm pretty sure she converted and was not raised Muslim (there's not too many Greek Muslims).
So, now I know that Um Ali means "Mother of Ali." Whoever Ali was, his mama cooks a mean bread pudding. Now that's the ultimate in comfort - having a dessert named "Mama".
Here's a link to a simple recipe that you can try for yourself: http://aromahope.blogspot.com/2007/04/umm-ali.html
There is a dessert here that is the ultimate in comfort food. Um Ali. More like Yum Ali to me. It is the ulitmate in bread pudding. If you're a bread pudding fan, and I am, there is nothing more disappointing and a waste of calories than dry, bland bread pudding - even with a whiskey sauce spice it up. To me, it needs to be soft, gooey, creamy, sweet, and hot. I order bread pudding from all over the world, and finally I've found the answer to my dreams. Um Ali. It is everything I want bread pudding to be.
The bread absorbs the cream and sugar to become soft and velvety in your mouth. As you are enjoying the warm creamy goodness, you run across a small chewy morsel - either almond or pistachio. Many recipes call for sultanas (golden raisins). And the secret ingredient is a small addition of rose water syrup - just a hint of floral aromas to make you wonder, hmmm what is that?
All Arabic cuisines - Egyptian, Lebanese, Syrian, Emirati, Saudi, etc -claim that Um Ali is theirs. Each chef has her/his own signature ingredient to slightly alter the flavors: cardamom, cinnamon, rose water, coconut, or cashews. But it's all good - every single time. No buffet would be complete without Um Ali on the dessert table.
Yesterday, Lyra was invited to a birthday party for a classmate, Abdulrahman. It was our first invitation to an Arab household since we arrived. Many of her classmates were there and I sat and visited with the moms. We were: Lebanese, Indian, Greek (now Emirati by marriage), Palestinian, and American. When I arrived I had failed to catch the name of Abdulrahman's (Aboud for short) mother and I asked the moms at the table, "What is her name?" They said, "Um Aboud" which means mother of Aboud and then struggled to remember her given name, Abeer. In the Gulf Arab culture, when a woman has her first son, they call her "Um [name of eldest son]". The other Arab mothers, Lebanese and Palastinian, didn't have the same tradition in their cultures. The Greek mother in our group, Miriam, said that she has struggled to get used to being called Um Majid (her son's name). Everyone in her husband's family calls her this - and she says she always forgets to answer until they call out her name, Miriam. I will ask her, but I think that Miriam is her Muslim name. Many people will take a new name if they convert to Islam - which I'm pretty sure she converted and was not raised Muslim (there's not too many Greek Muslims).
So, now I know that Um Ali means "Mother of Ali." Whoever Ali was, his mama cooks a mean bread pudding. Now that's the ultimate in comfort - having a dessert named "Mama".
Here's a link to a simple recipe that you can try for yourself: http://aromahope.blogspot.com/2007/04/umm-ali.html
Thursday, May 1, 2008
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