Too noisy to work ...

Dana's rendition of Faulkner's "A Rose for Emily"

Saoud's rendition of Mansfield's "Miss Brill"

Sara's rendition of Head's "The Prisoner Who Wore Glasses"

Hussain's rendition of Hemingway's "Soldier's Home"

After each member of the group presented their part, he started wrapping up by saying that Defoe's Robinson Crusoe is considered the best work of literature at the age, at which time she jumped at him to say that she strongly disagrees on that. Being as we have often seen brother and sister competing in class, we thought they were actually having an argument within their group, especially after she pointed out that he, due to his disability, being short, fails to appreciate Swift's story about giants. It turns out this play was part of their presentation. Thank you S & S for livening up our summer course with your act.

She approached me after class to ask if her participation is a little over the top. I reluctantly answered her by admitting that she does have a habit of interrupting people in the middle of their sentences all the time. At which point, she promised to be careful about this next time and wait for me to call on her in order to give the other members in class the chance to talk as well. Today A proved that she cannot help being A :)

I occasionally stay in the office to get some work done. But it seems that as long as my neighbor is this adorably noisy colleague, I can never get any work done. His voice is so loud that you can hear him speak from across the building. This post goes for Dr. H, my neighbour.

لنسمعهم صوتنا

نبي حكومة بلا عناصر الفساد والتأزيم
نبي مجلس برئاسة وطنية تمثل الشعب ولا تمثل عليه
وهم نبيها خمسة
لنسمعهم صوتنا كما أسمعناهم من قبل
ساحة الإرادة - مقابل مجلس الأمة

الجمعة ٧ يوليو2006
الساعة الثامنة والنصف مساء
البس البرتقالي واحضر

For those who mistook my last post as a sign of surrender, I add this here to show that I haven't given up. I received a blow, a strong one, but I haven't given up on Kuwait and never will.

3 wise monkeys

When we went into the Criminal Investigations Building this last Wednesday the 21st of June we were met everywhere with this statue.
Now I know what it means exactly.

The 3 deaf, blind and mute monkeys are indeed very very smart. So smart they're gonna lose this country to other monkeys.

حسافة على الكويت

جمعية الشفافية الكويتية

تدعو جمعية الشفافية الكويتية الراغبين بالتطوع للمشاركة في مراقبة إنتخابات مجلس الامة يوم 29/6/2006 إلى التسجيل لديها على ان تقدم لهم دورة تدريبية بعنوان (المراقب الإنتخابي) للخبير الدستوري د. محمد المقاطع و سيمنح المشاركون شهادة مراقب إنتخابي.

عنوان جمعية الشفافية الكويتية
اليرموك ق4 مقابل شارع المطار
هاتف : 5358901
5358902

الدعوة موصولة الى مدونين الكويت خاصة ان تساعدوا في نشر الدعوة ولنتصدى بها الفساد ولنكن درعا نحمي إرادة الشعب من التزوير. ان الامل كبير

ليعلو صوتك ... مارسي حقك

For more/clearer info visit Ayya

وهم نبيها خمسة

ripped to pieces

I didn't have the chance to take a picture of the posters yesterday. And now they are all ripped to pieces.
Posters in Surra, scattered around, not too many. They say something like "We can't be bought by the Dinar," and "We're not for sale" (rough translation).

Now who would rip such posters?

Toni Morrison: Sula. 1973

"Once upon a time there was an old woman. Blind but wise." Or was it an old man? A guru, perhaps. Or a griot soothing restless children. I have heard this story, or one exactly like it, in the lore of several cultures. Toni Morrison. Nobel Lecture.

Two girls, raised in two different matriarchal families, finally realize that the bond that unites them as friends is stronger than other societal bonds that kept them apart.

Eva’s husband walks out on her leaving her with two girls and a boy. Her house becomes a place where many seek shelter. But the house lacks proper order, an attribute Morrison reserves for those who are not willing to allow a space for differences among people. As part of her illogical, disorderly fashion, Eva takes in 3 boys and calls them all Dewey, against everyone’s quizzical inquiry as to how to distinguish between the 3. Her daughter Hannah also loses her own husband when their daughter Sula is only 3, leaving Sula to be raised in an a-typical matriarchal family.

Helene Wright is raised by her grandmother away from the Creole whore who gave birth to her. When Helene marries a seaman who is constantly away and bears her daughter Nel, she raises her in such an orderly fashion that makes this matriarchal family the opposite of that of Sula.

It is this opposition that joins the two girls and leads to a friendship that becomes the main focus of the novel, even when Morrison crowds her novels with many more interesting characters and stories:

Eva herself kills her own son when his war trauma leaves him too attached to his mother, but then throws herself out the second floor window onto her burning daughter in an attempt to save her life.

Sula sees her own mother burning but doesn’t move to save her, partly because of hearing her mother in an earlier occasion admit that she loves, but does not like Sula, her daughter.

There is also Shadrack, the shellshock veteran who celebrates National Suicide Day every year, and who finally leads some townfolks into a tunnel, and accidentally, to their death.


Another one of Toni Morrison’s successes. If you haven’t touched a Morrison yet, what are you waiting for?

The old woman is keenly aware that no intellectual mercenary, nor insatiable dictator, no paid-for politician or demagogue; no counterfeit journalist would be persuaded by her thoughts. Toni Morrison. Nobel Lecture.

update on shuroq

This isn't my own post. But I found the comment stretching a bit too long in Shuroq's blog so I chose to include it here.

الشاب اللطيف في أثناء الحديث قال هذا أبوي وإذا أبوكم نزل نفسه بالانتخابات ما راح تساندونه؟ فردت عليه عالية: إذا كان شريف. فقام الشاب اللطيف بإعطاء عالية تلك الخزة الطويلة الظاهر مصدق إنه ريّال ويخرع. كان قبل شوي قايل حق شروق إنه لو كان متزوج كان عنده عيال قدها وقايل بعد إن احنا من نكون عشان نقعد نربي ونهذب بأخلاقيات الناس واحنا يهال وما نفتهم (كلمة يهال صايرة تنقال لنا وايد هالأيام بس أول مرة أسمعها من ريال عنده 17 سنة. بس الداهية شروق عرفتله وقالت إي طبعا أنت أكبر منا لأنك ريال) وأعتقد أن هذا السبب اللي خلاه يتوجه حق شباك شروق لأنها فاهمته تمام.

وسألونا ليش تبونها خمس ترى الخمس مو عادلة (شافو الشريطة البرتقالية بسيارتي ما شاالله عليهم نبيهين). وقالوا شلون توزعون فتاوي الطبطبائي مع أنه ضد المرأة. وقالوا عادي ماهي رشوة لأن مرشحنا طول عمره يحب يعاون وسألوا الوالد عن أفضال المرشح على المنطقة (الوالد ضحك لين قلناله، وشر البلية ما يضحك) و بينما شروق قاعدة تحاور المأسوف على شبابه دخل بالسالفة ثالث من أهل الدار يقول لنا أنتو ليش قاعدين تحاورون وتقنعون، بس وزعوا منشوراتكم و خلاص (طبعا الأخ واصل عالسالفة من الآخر وما يدري ولا حتى يبي يسمع أننا ما طلبنا نحاور أحد) لا وبعد كاسرين خاطرة يقول أنتو بنات و ما له داعي تكلمون صبيان بالشارع. يعني يكون ضميره صاحي على هالموضوع وايد.

المهم أن ولدي لما قلناله السالفة قال إي ما عليكم منه هذا كلكشي معاي بالصف و

he's messing with you

وهذا مرة جمع كم دينار من الطلبة بحجة أنه بيرتب لهم حفلة وطلع بالأخير قاص عليهم. الظاهر الابن البار كان يبي يعاون الوالد بحملته الانتخابية ببعض الدعم المادي. عفية عليك يابو عمر. والله عرفت تربي كثر الله من أمثالك.

وسلامتكم

My blood is boiling

What happened tonight is beyond anything I ever expected. My blood is boiling and my hands are still shaking. I never believed corruption could run so high and in such an open manner.

Distributing flyers with a message against buying and selling votes ended in one of the most aggravating and disturbing conversations ever when 2 men directly offered us money to shut up and/or sell our voices.

I will leave Shuroq to fill you in on the details. She's a more prolific writer with a better memory. And she has already been threatened to publish something by noon tomorrow or else.

Toni Morrison: The Bluest Eye. 1970

Quiet as it’s kept, there were no marigolds in the fall of 1941. We thought, at the time, that it was because Pecola was having her father’s baby that the marigolds did not grow.
This is how 9 years old Claudia begins telling us the story of Pecola that she and her sister Frieda, 10, were witness to. In this story, Morrison takes her readers into the world as seen in the eyes of two black girls whose fortune is only a little better than the distressed Pecola. Pecola, influenced by the seemingly happy life displayed on the screen of this pretty blond with blue eyes, decides that what happened to her could be prevented if she had Shirley Temple’s blue eyes:
It had occurred to Pecula … that if her eyes … were different, … she herself would be different. If she looked different, beautiful, maybe Cholly would be different, and Mrs. Breedlove. Maybe they’d say, “Why, look at pretty-eyed Pecola. We mustn’t do bad things in front of those pretty eyes.” …Each night, without fail, she prayed for blue eyes.
But Pecola is not that lucky. Her eyes aren’t blue. And her father Cholly rapes her. And her mother Mrs. Breedlove breeds no love on the girl.
So it was.
A little black girl years for the blue eyes of a little white girl, and the horror at the heart of her yearning is exceeded only by the evil of fulfillment.
We saw her sometimes, Frieda and I—after the baby came too soon and died. After the gossip and the slow wagging of heads. She was sad to see. Grown people looked away; children, those who were not frightened by her, laughed outright.
…
All of us—all who knew her—felt so wholesome after we cleaned ourselves on her. We were so beautiful when we stood astride her ugliness.
…
She, however, stepped over into madness, a madness which protected her from us simply because it bored us in the end.
It is only when Claudia grows older that she realizes that the town and she herself were wrong when they acquiesce to life’s unjust treatment to one of their own, saying the victim has no right to live.

I love Morrison’s multiple narrators. I love her refusal to allow her readers to classify good and evil. I love the fluidity of her style. But most of all, I love this, her first novel, and to me, the most gripping of all her 8 novels.

My aim is to begin some sort of a book review here. Not a very typical one, just my own thoughts and observations of a few of my favorites books. Toni Morrison being my favorite author, I will begin with this, then follow with the rest of her 8 novels before I move on to other writers.

That, my dear reader, is the plan. But I am generally not one to follow through with her plans :)

الهارون & النيباري

And if you read this before 8:30 tonight:

الفساد... الى متى؟

Tuesday 6 June 2006

8:30 pm

المقر الإنتخابي للسيد عبدالوهاب الهارون

ضاحية عبدالله السالم

دعوة خاصة لشابات وشباب نبيها خمس وكل من مل الفساد ويريد الارتقاء للكويت ولاهلها

Vote for Dad

عبدالمحسن تقي مظّفر
مرشح المنبر الديمقراطي الكويتي عن الدائرة العاشرة

لانتخابات مجلس الأمة 2006

Inspired by Alia

Away from politics

Away from politics 1:
Today is the last day of class, the worst day of the year for me. I hate saying goodbye to students. Every semester I get to know a number of students. Some are old students from my days as a school teacher. Some are interestingly bold and original in their way of thinking. Some are a raging volcano of emotions and thoughts under a quiet facade. Some are still learning to gain a voice. Some are struggling with balancing family and school. Some I enjoy teasing and some take pleasure in teasing me. But all are such a pleasure to teach and an honor to know. To my 475 class and to those who graduated before, I dedicate this post.

Away from politics 2:
The maid I borrow from my sister twice a week to clean the house has to go back home. After finding a suitable candidate, I went to apply for her visa armed with the necessary papers only to be told that they need a recent divorce paper, not more than 6 months old. What's the logic behind this? 6 months? I'd understand, or can pretend to understand, 3 months, as a woman cannot remarry within three months of her divorce. But 6? What would happen in 6 months that can't happen in 3?

Away from politics 3:
I was supposed to join Walk the World with my friend yesterday. She couldn't take the day off so I decided not to go alone. But later on I decided to go to release some stress (not caused by the latest political events but by personal matters). Is it still supporting Child Hunger is my cause was a fresh walk on the beach for exercise and for stress release?

I leave you with pictures of the event:

وهم نبيها خمسة

Kuwait Political Database

Coming to terms with my ignorance regarding the current political situation, getting tired of having to refer to my little sister for information, and being in a state of perpetual confusion as to each MP's position regarding this and other debates, I decided to google Kuwait Politics and came across a very interesting and informative site for those political novices like myself. Check it out.

I just spent the last hour surfing through the various levels of information presented there. I found out that there are 44 registered voters sharing my family's last name, 4 of whom live in Jabber :)

التجمع القادم
وتستمر الإرادة
بمشاركة نواب الأمة .. نلتقي معاً في ساحة الإرادة
أمام مجلس الأمة - شارع الخليج العربي
يوم الجمعة 19 مايو - الساعة الثامنة مساء

pooh fellow bloggers/nabeeha5 fighters/ شباب الياسمين : Seeing your faces at those political gatherings has been part of the pleasure I derive from my meager political activism. I find myself insisting on attending in spite of my busy work schedule (semester nearing its end, exams not yet written) partly in excitement over meeting with you again. Our political struggle will hopefully continue beyond our struggle to approve the 5 constituencies. However, I would love for us to be able to meet on a more social ground. Are you interested? I wasn't able to contact all of you by email so I chose to spread my call here and in some of your blogs. Email me if interested.

هم نبيها 5

Let's not give in now. Sunday at 6. See you all there facing the Parliament.

I'm repeating the call of my fellow bloggers. It's time to make a stand. It's no longer about 5 or 10 or even 25. It's Kuwaitis showing they care about their country, showing they are involved, showing they are politically aware, or at least, politically interested in what's going on around them.

Please please please be there. Don't be passive. Don't say it's pointless. Don't say one person won't make a difference. If you care even a little bit about making this a better place to live in, start now. What harm would come to you? A few hours gathering with a bunch of devoted, interesting, fun, energetic and patriotic group of people (blogville is filled with those, as I have come to find out) can do you more good than harm.

Sunday, 6 pm, Facing the Parliament: See you there.

Let them eat cake!!!

Isn't this similar? I don't write political posts. This isn't politics. I write about food. So here's food for thought:

Isn't approving 10 when you ask for 5 similar to suggesting cake when you ask for bread?

Well, not quite. Offering cake is an indication of ignorance. Offering 10 is one of not giving a damn. Or is it not so?

Sunday: 6-8 PM

Parliament

5 for Kuwait

Rallying for 5, I met the following wonderful bloggers today:
Zaydoun: His was the first orange shirt I saw.
Papillona: Lovely and beautiful but feeling a little hot tonight.
Nunu: I seem to have confused you with noony (Judy Abbot currently I believe). Nice meeting you nevertheless.
iDip: Spotted through a women's plot to find the mysterious iDip.
Ayya: Meeting you made my night. I felt like a teenager meeting her idol.
The Stallion: Who thought we were gathered to celebrate cinqo de mayo :)
Walladah: Another one of my idols. To see that a real person exists behind those poetic visions is always baffling.
Nibaq: Nice meeting you again. Didn't have the chance to chat this time.

Seeing the enthusiam behind this rally tonight made me feel very optimistic. I'm hoping for the best.

Crash

My Lexy got hurt today :(
Here’s a sketch. I’m gray. He’s pink.

1:15: I call 777 to report it
1:18: Faiha Police Station calls to get details. They ask that I drive to Faiha. I ask: “But shouldn’t you come over to sketch the accident”. He answers: “It’s Ok. You come to Faiha PS we’ll figure it out.” I decide a genius works there so I relent. Driver of second car, however, refuses to budge till his boss comes. I call Faiha PS to tell them. They say: “Who was it you hit? An Indian?” I flip and say what the hell does that got to do with it? He says they always crash!!! He says let me talk to him. he does. Then I tell him forget it dude. You come inspect scene of accident. He agrees after I seem to remind him of his job.
1:40 He comes. He sketches. I follow to Faiha PS to leave car there as he said he’d call around 5 when inspector’s there so report can be written.
5:06: He calls. I head there with brother. At Faiha PS he tells us to photocopy license and registration. Naturally they don’t have this service at PS so we head out to nearby copy center. We make copies. We return to PS. He takes copies. Puts together with his sketch. Tells us to head to Kuwait City PS (Now why couldn’t he have done that earlier when we headed to PS to leave car there? It’s a mystery my dear readers. But we are not to question authority)
6:00 (or thereabouts) We arrive at Kuwait City PS. After 30 minutes wait, we meet inspector. After asking the other driver about what happened, inspector asks me: “Is the car in your name?” I say: “Yes”. Inspector/genius has car registration with my name in his hand while asking question. Next question: “What’s your address?” I give address. Then our noble inspector turns to my brother and asks “What’s your phone number?” My brother gives him his number refraining from making an obvious comment here, but couldn’t completely hold himself when inspector asks me to sign and wonders “Shouldn’t I sign since you took my number?”

Home and in bed. But worried about my baby sleeping all alone in an unknown area. Only soothed by the fact that my 2 other, not-so-baby babies are also not home. So I'm home alone. No kids. No car. Just me, myself and my Sony.

You know you're old when ...

... you no longer enjoy your own company.

When I was younger, I loooooved staying in my room all by myself. I mean what's not to love? I had my books. I didn't need to acommodate anyone else. It was time for me and me only. And what better company can there be?

Up till very recently, I loved being alone. Ba3ad shasawee I'm a hermit by nature. Utterly anti-social. I'm the boring one you find sitting quietly in social gatherings. The one who can never start a conversation and when addressed responds briefly. So quiet and withdrawn that people often mistake my inability to mingle as excessive pride "shayfa roo7ha."

But lately, maybe due to the fact that I live in a house with two boys who are rarely home themselves, I get bored staying home alone. It's too quiet. I think I need noise in my life. Maybe staying alone in my room before was doable because the house was always noisy and you don't get this sense of being alone.

Or maybe ...

maybe ...

maybe ...

Dare I say it?

maybe ...



... it's a sign of getting old :)

Birthdays Birthdays Birthdays

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BROS

We had a wonderful time last night. Candlelit night, oud music, and amazing company (family only actually, which is really the most amazing and fun company I know)

Thanks A and E for a wonderful night.

المسجد

كتاب اللغة العربية للصف السابع - ص.120

This is part from lesson 20. I'll sum the rest here:

Aside from their religiouos purpose, neighbourhood mosques have a social purpose of caring for members of each neighbourhood. As a hospital cares for the sick body, so the mosque cares for the sick soul. It educates the ignorant, helps the poor, offers advice for distressed families, and much more. Such mosques are a necissity in life, functioning like schools, courts and charity organizations.
Why can't the mosque also be a school for women just like it's a school for men? Why can't each mosque devote lessons to educate women with regards to their religious and social duties, with guidance to how a woman can fill her house with happines and joy? (personal note: of course, what else is a woman good for other than adding joy to her home?)
(this is where the scanned excerpt fits: my humble translation: woman is now deprived of her spiritual and religious nourishment, being away from the mosque, deprived of it for no good readon ... as woman is deprived from her mosque, so will her children be deprived from religious compassion ... and if a woman strays from the right path once and finds no solace in the mosque, she will err again ... she now wanders from home to malha (bar/game/fun/play) with no mosque to balance between the boredom of home and the extremity of having fun)
The piece continues explaining how this is the purpose of mosques, educating both men and women and that lately people have been drawn away from mosques because the preachers can't get to their hearts.

I don't even know where to begin to comment on this piece of crap.
Ok. So all if fine and dandy. So mosques are an institution that assists in the role of schools and court. Fine. I'll shut up about all that.

But why dedicate a whole paragraph to women strayingfrom the path of righteousness? What about men? Don't they ever err too?

**egh anger anger**egh smashing whatever's close at hand**egh hates our stupid educational system**egh hates that her sons have to read this nonesense**f**s**who the hell approves of these books?

**The piece is taken from فيض الخاطر for أحمد أمين

The Road Not Taken

Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken" has always been one of my favorite poems. I thought I'd share and see what you think:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

To King Zaydoun with Love

No no no I'm not hitting on you :P

This started as a comment on your blog. But then I realized it's getting long so thought of making use of it to fill my lately-quiet blog.

So...
It's Thursday. Family gathering. We want to go out. Took me forever to find numbers to Totally Fish (fully booked) then Biella (reservation secured)

So suggestion extended to you, King Z, for the following reason:
Whenever I google any restaurant in Kuwait, your blog comes up as first on the list. You seem to have inadvertently covered most restaurants in Kuwait.

So ... why not make that a vocation? Why not devote a blog for restaurant reviews? This way you can give the ignorant among us a guide to refer to. (I suggest you include address and phone number too to make it easier on me :)

Now your not so loyal subject has to return to work to avoid being banished from your Kingdom.

The cutest 'Notice' ever

Don't you just love this? It's posted on the main door to my building. Apparently the maids have been having trouble cleaning the 'big mash' caused by cat and dog in the 'down steared'

Sorry, but the English teacher in me can't leave this undocumented.


How's your week everyone?

Dear God ...

My favorite DEAR GOD's:

Dear God: Did you mean for giraffe to look like that or was it an accident?
Dear God: Instead of letting people die and having to make new ones, why don't you just keep the ones you have now?
Dear God: Thank you for the baby brother but what I prayed for was a puppy.
Dear God: We read that Edison made light, but in Sunday school they said you did it. So I bet he stole your idea.
Dear God: Maybe Cain and Able would not kill each so much if hey had their own rooms. It worked with my brothers.


Sorry if the picture is too small to see. Picasso would've been a better choice but this is faster and I'm getting sleepy.

Crash

Now this is one hell of a movie. But I don't wanna ruin it for you by telling you how great it is. So watch it. You won't regret it. I got it a few days ago and only now got the chance to see it. I think the Oscars might have hastened my decision to watch it now. But it has certainly not affected my judgement of it.

Oh and this scene here. This is when ...

Naaah. I ain't gonna spoil it for you. :)

Enjoy

أسـبـوع الـفلـم الـلبـناني

تحت رعاية المجلس الوطني للثقافة و الفنون و الآداب
نـادي الـكـويـت للـسـينما

يقدم
أسـبـوع الـفلـم الـلبـناني

في الفترة من 5 إلى 8 مارس 2006

الأحد 5 - 3 - 2006
طـيـف الـمديـنـة
إخراج : جان شمعون

الأثنين 6 - 3 - 2006
طـيـاره مـن ورق
إخراج : راندا شهال
أحـلام المـنـفى
إخراج : مي المصري

الثلاثاء 7 - 3 - 2006
لـما حـكيـت مـريـم
إخراج : أسد فولادكار

الأربعاء 8 - 3 - 2006
بـيـروت الـغربـيـة
إخراج : زياد دويري

يبدأ عرض الأفلام في الساعة 7 مساءً , و سيكون إن شاء الله في القاعة السمعية البصرية في مبنى المجلس الوطني للثقافة و الفنون و الآداب في منطقة الشرق , مقابل غرفة الصناعة و التجارة و مقابل وزارة الداخلية

للإستفسار
تلفون - بدالة : 2420848 الداخلي : 124

. . . . . . . . . .

LATEST UPDATE:

الأثنين 6 - 3 - 2006

طـيـاره مـن ورق

إخراج : راندا شهال

الثلاثاء 7 - 3 - 2006

أحـلام المـنـفى

إخراج : مي المصري

الأربعاء 8 - 3 - 2006

لـما حـكيـت مـريـم

إخراج : أسد فولادكار

تم إلغاء بـيـروت الـغربـيـة لعدم ملاءمته للمجتمع الكويتي المحافظ

نشكر الرقابة على حرصهم على أخلاقيات الشعب الكويتي وجزاكم الله ألف خير

ونأمل أن تصدق الإشاعة بشأن منع لما حكيت مريم أيضا

Child Labor

He said he was nine. The denied he was here last Tuesday at 9, a school night. When he realized I'm interrogating rather than buying, he evaded by saying it's turning green. It's gonna be green now. شبت خضرا. Then he ran to the other side of the road.

Child labor in Kuwait. How long before someone puts a stop to it? Are these kids being sent by their parents? Are they copying all the other kids who are doing it and easily winning their parents' approval to do that? How is it even legal? They close the 'baqala' in our neighborhood (and other hoods of course) but this, they endorce ... Go figure!!!

Is there a Charles Dickens in Kuwait?

Analysis of a Blogger's Block

This can't be a writer's block because I can't claim to be a writer. Lately my blogging has diminished. I can find two main reasons for that:
1) There hasn't been anything interesting going around in my life lately.
2) I am becoming really busy.
3) Blogging no longer interest me.

Now to analyze these point:
1) assumes that what I have been rambling about previously was interesting. Searching through my recent blogs I found some on my trip to Albuquerque (that can't be interesting), my KG report (like who cares), the ugliest collage ever of some breakfast item ... you catching my drift? Lack of interesting things to write about has never been the case.

2) busy? but i manage to find time to go out, to watch lost, to teach, to watch desperate housewives, to chat aimlessly with friends ... so again, busy is not an excuse here.

3) I can't analyze three, because if you have been a careful reader you'd notice I said I can find two reasons for that, not three. So reason three does not exist.

Here now (and not 'here boy', my sister's not so loyal old cat) A post is made. Enjoy and good night.

Week One

Week one started last Saturday. My classes seem promising so far. I'm not very crazy about segregated classes, especially of girls only, so that one is already my least favorite. Too soon to judge of course, but my first impression is very promising so far.

Officially week one was last week. But since I was away and missed Saturday and Monday*, my students assumed I won't show up Wednesday as well.


* I spent Monday in London. Arriving at the hotel at 8:30 am, leaving it by 9, I took the Bakerloo line to Piccadilly Circus and walked from there to the fascinating National Gallery where I enjoyed the fastest tour ever inside a gallery, arriving 9:30 and leaving by 12:



After that I walked to Westminster Abbey, stopping for a quick picture of Big Ben:

Another fast tour, this time of the Abbey, lasting less than 2 hours.

By 3 pm I was starving so took the famous London taxi towards Harrods knowing that if I go there hungry, I'd shop for food and thus satisfy my need to buy something at Harrods, and at the same time not burden my budget by buying something from Harrods. So it was Pizza from their Pizzaria. Delicious.

By then I was totally and completely exhausted from lack of sleep ( I took a 5 hour sleep in the airplane getting there, but that was far from enough), so I took the underground again to the hotel for a nap.

Waking up, I took the Bakerloo line again to Piccadillly for some gift-shop hopping before going in for a fascinating night of Mama Mia:

London Baby :)

**Bader Ben Hirsi, director of The English Sheik and the Yemeni Gentleman, just left a comment on my blog of that title. Check it out if interested.

Albuquerque - Day 4

Picture taking was to its minumum today. This is my rendition of the San Felipe de Neri that I had on my February 5th post.

The church is in OldTown. I wasnt impressed with OldTown. Its not very old. Our Mubarakiya has more of an old look to it. Shops repeated same old Native American merchandise.

Later went to watch The White Countess. A bit on the dull side though it has some interesting moments. I don't really recommend it.

In 9 hours I head to the airport, so I better get some sleep now.


Albuquerque, 13 February, 1:05 am

Albuquerque - Day 3

Hippie Town (Madrid) on the way to Santa Fe

Nedra Matteucci Galleries - Santa Fe

Sculpture Garden at Nedra

Lunch at Santa Fe

Loretto Chapel - Santa Fe

And thats all for today :)

Albuquerque, 10 February, 10:12 pm

Albuquerque - Day 2

Touring the city in the morning, my camera captured the following:

Casino in the middle of the desert. This is no Vegas, folks.

Winery: I was tempted to bring in a bottle of chocolate sauce with a hint of Cabernet. Would go perfectly well over some ice-cream or pie, or even as pancake syrup.

Statue at Botanic Gardens and Aquarium

Movie of the day: Brokeback Mountain. Wonderful story. Very much worth watching. Don't think they'd show it in Kuwait but oh well, long live piracy :)

Albuquerque, 9 February, 10:37 pm

Albuquerque - Day 1

After a restless night in bed, I finally woke up and headed to register and collect conference material. Around 12, and after chatting with this and that, my stomache started to protest, reminding me that I have been neglectig her (or is it him?) for the last 21 hours. Happily, I followed my stomache to a cafe where she ordered me soup and sandwich. We were both happy and decided to take a nap after such a satisfying meal to make up for last night's restlessness.

Alas, the nap lasted longer than expected and by the time I was up I could only catch the last session of the day, one against Spivak's Subaltern*. No harm done. I can still enjoy the rest of the night, maybe catch a movie. When lo and behold, here I am acting the role of the speaking subaltern as soon as I open my mouth with the words: 'Kuwait, I teach at Kuwait University.' Question upon question came tumbling on my head: do you wear burga' at home? do you date? do you have alcohol? do you eat meat? do you breathe? do you sleep? do Kuwaitis have 2 ears, 2 eyes like us Westerners? I submitted to these questions, like I usually do, by telling them 'No, No bother at all, ask away'.

When the subaltern in me satisfied herself by speaking, I decided to shut her up by taking her to a good-old American thriller. I mean heck, we Kuwaitis can watch thriller too, can't we?

I wasn't thrilled, neither was my muted subaltern, nor my grumpy stomache. Other than a beautiful house, the movie** had nothing. Why is it that thrillers always come with a beautiful house? Are we not to fear and pity those who live in projects? Such an Aristotelian mentality***!!

On the way back to the hotel, a mere 5 minute walk I spotted this and the blogger in me said: 'hold on here, let me entertain my blogging community with the first picture of Albuquerque downtown' I indulged, here's the result:

Church at 3rd and Tijeras.

And now me, stomache, subaltern, blogger and all are tucked in bed hoping to catch more sessions tomorrow.

*Spivak's "Can the Subaltern Speak" basically argues that no, she/he cannot speak, since speech utilizes the hegemonic colonial discourse which makes them speechless to begin with. So by speaking the language of the west, we become Westerners and thus our words are not those of the subaltern anymore.

**Movie: When A Stranger Calls.

***Aristotle tells us that the best tragedies are those with noble heros.

Albuquerque, 9 February, 1:19 am

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Leaving to Albuquerque, New Mexico this Tuesday. It's gonna be one hell of a trip. 3 flights, a total of 21 hours to get there. I hope Panadol night does the trick and puts me to sleep for at least 6 hours of my 9 hour Frankfurt/Chicago flight. Of course knowing me, the thing that is most likely to keep me up is my getting really really cold in those damned airplanes. Stacking up on layers of clothing won't help either, it'd only make me uncomfortable.

Now enough whining. I plan to spend a full day and night in London on the way back, so should be arriving home totally rejuvenated. I hope :/

San Felipe de Neri, Albuquerque.

Westminster Abbey, London.

My Multicultural Breakfast

picture's ugly but have to rush so don't have time to edit:)

Items on my breakfast table:

French white cheese
Kuwaiti milk
Swiss via Turkish chocolate powder
Danish butter
German Philadelphia cheese
American honey
Australian Kraft cheese

روضة بلقيس

You know you're old when you KG report turns yellow :)

Deciding to finally make some sense out of the mess I call my den, I came across this interesting piece of evidence.


I don't exactly know why I chose to remove the rest of my name. I'm probably still pretending that my blog identity is still a mystery :)

Kuwait's emir has died

Kuwait's emir, Sheikh Jaber al-Ahmad al-Sabah, has died at the age of 77, state television reported on Sunday.
The announcement was made in a statement from the royal court carried by the television in the tiny Gulf state, a key U.S. ally and OPEC member.
The emir, who suffered a brain hemorrhage in 2001, was the 13th ruler of a 245-year-old dynasty which has ruled Kuwait since the Anaiza tribe, to which the al-Sabahs belonged, migrated from the Arabian hinterland.
Since the fall of Saddam Hussein in neighboring Iraq in 2003 and U.S. calls for change in the Middle East, the ruling family had come under intense pressure from both Islamists and pro-Western liberals to loosen its grip on the government and share power.
Kuwait, a founder OPEC member, enjoys one of the world's highest standards of living, despite its reliance on oil exports, unpredictable oil income and huge losses from the 1990-1991 Iraq occupation.
The Gulf state sits on one tenth of the world's crude oil reserves, or 95 billion barrels.
Used as the main launchpad for the U.S.-led invasion of Iraq in 2003, Kuwait hosts up to 30,000 U.S. troops and some 13,000 U.S. citizens live in the country.
Kuwait, which a population of about 2.2 million, has cracked down on Islamists opposing the U.S. military presence there. Diplomats say radical Islam is taking hold among Kuwaiti youth.
In December, a Kuwaiti court sentenced to death six suspected militants linked to Osama bin Laden's al Qaeda for bloody attacks in the country.
The six were among 37 Islamists on trial as members of the "Peninsula Lions" group believed to be linked to al Qaeda in Iraq and Saudi Arabia.

Yahoo New

The Perfect Dress

Jennifer's wedding day was fast approaching. Nothing could dampen her excitement - not even her parents' nasty divorce. Her mother had found the PERFECT dress to wear and would be the best dressed mother-of-the-bride ever!

A week later, Jennifer was horrified to learn that her father's new young wife had bought the exact same dress! Jennifer asked her to exchange it, but she refused.

"Absolutely not. I look like a million bucks in this dress, and I'm wearing it," she replied.
Jennifer told her mother who graciously said, "Never mind sweetheart. I'll get another dress. After all, it's your special day."

A few days later, they went shopping and did find another gorgeous dress. When they stopped for lunch, Jennifer asked her mother, "Aren't you going to return the other dress? You really don't have another occasion where you could wear it."

Her mother just smiled and replied, "Of course I do, dear. I'm wearing itto the rehearsal dinner the night before the wedding!"


just something to keep my avid fans busy while I continue playing with my template.

Thanks to Shuroq's "try Wordpress, they say it has good templates" and Jackie's "need any help with templates I can hook you up with a few websites with nice templates," I am now addicted to the maze they call html :)

Fun with Template

I'll be working on my template for the next few days, trying out new things, so bare with me.

I leave you to rest here in the meantime:

I wanted this as my background. If only I can remove the dog it'd be perfect.

I hate sending such emails :(

I think you plagiarized your paper. I'll give you your two options:
1) Admit plagiarism. Earn an FA for this course. Case closed.
2) Deny plagiarism. We sit together and you convince me that you actually wrote it. Bare in mind that once you deny plagiarism but I actually prove you wrong, an FA is no longer the only result. If we discuss the paper and you fail to prove it to be yours, I report you to the dean and you suffer the consequences, which might entail your failure in the whole term.

Let me know what action you want to take.

Happy New Year

Last day of class today. A visit to Kaifan to collect mail and students’ paper (and apparently to argue with students about their grades not being well-deserved – their argument: they deserve more; my argument: they deserve less :)

I choose a marag 3adas lunch over going out in order to be faithful to my New Year Resolution to watch my expenditures. Ha-ha. I find myself laughing as I write this. Let’s see how long that lasts.

So now, 17 papers to correct, probably in a second or third version (when even really interesting papers lose their spark), and 10 more papers to correct for the first time, which means I have to struggle with sentence structure and language before I can even attempt to understand the thesis.
Wish me luck.

I’m not liking this coming Eid: two best friends are going away, one on vacation, another for a longer period. I’ll miss them tremendously. Two brothers also leaving with their wives so their kid will spend the vacation at their in-laws, making for a really quiet house at my mom’s.

I used to like Kuwait University

After finding this in my mailbox yesterday I came to accept that this is how things are. Whether I like it or not, our esteemed colleagues/administrators seem to think that it is the business of an academic institution to instill religious beliefs into its students. We might as well shut down the faculty of arts and transfer our students to Sharee3a.

Am I to expect a dress code soon? And will that apply to students only or does it also cover teachers?

And on a separate but related note: دعاء الركوب? Am I still at Kuwait University or is it now some religious institution? A colleague of mine was enraged because I asked my colleagues to consider the implications of these ads by leaving a note in their mailboxes. His/her argument was that I was thrusting my beliefs on them. Isn't the university administration thrusting its beliefs on students when it starts circulating religious messages in any form or shape? It's a university for god's sake, a place of learning. Can't we keep it as just that?
I have a big issue with calling our ministry of education وزارة التربية والتعليم, I don't accept strangers to be in charge of my children's 'tarbiya.'

The Fog

DONT WASTE YOUR TIME!
We didn't even have nachos or popcorn to distract us. I should've gone to see Ornina. The 3 hours spent on King Kong were much more worthy.

Saddam's trial is becoming quite a show. Funny in the beginning but getting on my nerves now. Get it done with already.

Our departmental lunch went well last Wednesday. But maybe not for the waiters at Biella. The poor souls, their service is already bad as it is, imagine having to serve a table of 6, no 10, no 24 who first asked for separate checks (you're joking ma'am, right?) then took over an hour to decide what to order. Of course yours truly totally forgot about that lunch and had lunch with her family at 2 only to have a colleague call and remind her of the department lunch at which time she helped herself with more lunch :)

So what's new in the blog world? I haven't been very blog-friendly lately. What did I miss?

Scars ... grudges ... and chicken

How long does it take for the scars of abuse to disappear? Do they ever go away? Whether it is child abuse, spouse abuse, or even strangers’ abuse, being in an abusive relation or witnessing abusive relationships seem to leave a permanent scar even if that scar is only obvious in one’s lack of inner strength, strength that usually enables us to deal with our shortcomings once we know their roots. Someone dear to me once told me I’m an adult now and should stop using childhood trauma (the term might be an exaggeration here) to justify my adult weaknesses. That person must have a deep reservoir of inner strength. I’m glad they do. But I don’t.

I am one to hold grudges. Even when I try not to, I can’t seem to help it. I have a really bad memory but when someone hurts me I can’t seem to forget. Maybe I forgive, but I almost never forget. Could that be why I don’t remember much from my childhood other than the times I was hurt? My only memory of the book fair that is held in Kuwait every year, and that I am sure was a yearly pilgrimage of my family, is of a dirty old man harassing me. I was fourteen back in the days when fourteen year old girls were actually girls. Or maybe I was just too buried in my sleazy romance novels to notice my bodily desires :). Up to this day I do not enjoy a trip to the book fair as much as I would want to. I even remember what I was wearing that day. Me. The one who wouldn’t remember what she ate for lunch yesterday or what she was wearing for work this morning.

People who lose their temper scare me. They actually scare me no matter how big or small they are. They scare me even when I know they have no intention of harming me. They scare me even when I know they can't hurt me. They scare me simply by heading towards me while they're angry. It's an instant irrational flash of fear that is/can not be explained or even contemplated. A very short glipse into darkness that is quickly chased away by my rationality. But chased away or not, it existed. For that blink of an eye it existed. Before my mind could register it my feelings took hold of it.
How chicken am I?

No Comment

I am a [female] university student ...

and my appearance suits my university.

I learn ... I discuss ... I debate
We compete in loving our university

No Comment. Hell. Please Comment. Please help me understand. Please tell me I don't work for this institution.

Both posters are displayed in Kaifan (داخل الحرم الجامعي)

Thank you cameraman N.M.

مهرجان القرين الثقافي

Last night (Thursday night) I went to Mishrif for a night of music with Ssassa, an Oriental Gypsy band. I haven't been going to many cultural events lately and I thought it's time to get back in the game (Going to Movie Week at Kaifan doesn't count). The music was so lively that it was hard to resist the urge to dance at times. A lebanese friend who was in our group was tempted to get up and do her share of dapka on those tunes. It was an extremely festive mixture of Greek, Turkish, Kosovan, and Macedonian tunes.



I don't know how many more of these qurain events I would want to attent though. I didn't check all their schedule yet.


On a separate note, did winter cancel on us this year or what?