"'cuz if you mind yer own business then you won't be a'mindin' mine."
I had most of Christmas day off to take care of personal bidness with The Firm. I've never worked so closely within an organization of locals. What a trip.
I carried to the administration building the hammer I used to crack through the marble veneer covering the Arab mind; I want learn more.
The Arab mind gives very little away. Individualism is important but what's the point in revealing it to strangers? Individualism is also key to understanding westerners, especially, 'mericans. It's in reverse sadly; whether they want it or not, strangers are often subjected to learning just who it is they are talking to regardless of whether or not this is of concern to them.
If...I...sp-ah--eak, slow....ly...then...would...you (point finger out)..know...what...I (point finger in) ..mean (point to the brain)? Hell....lo-O!
(The little Bengali tea boy just smiled and whobbled his head from side to side and thought "What an asshole")
True, we outsiders are guilty of misunderstanding the culture, making our hasty generalizations based on assumptions; we prove our hypothesis about the Arab mind without following any scientific methodology other than, if I don't get what I want when I want it, some lazy sunnabitch dropped the ball.
However, some responsibility for our misreading rests upon the Arab mind as well. Drop those metaphorical knickers and show us what you got because I am really confused.
For example--I can read Arabic--simplified, billboard, street sign, store front Arabic. I know that in Kuwait there is a large mall called "The City Center", and in Arabic, instead of the sign reading in translation "Al Markez Al Medina", it transliterates:from right to left "retneC ytiC".
So, naturally I might ask, why would they do that?
Big mistake. Never ask why. There's a simplified reason. There's Andalus. There's transparent. Then there's Kufti.
The beauty of cryptic Kuftic calligraphy is in harmony with the purposely complicated arrangement of streets and alleys (designed to disorient marauders), and both reflect the super ego of an indigenous population that went from village wells, candle light, and one town battery operated radio crackling away with the latest promises of Gamal Nassir to unify under his guidance.
Then came modern urban sprawl in fewer generations than "son of, son of".
Grandpa remembers the radio. He once had a donkey. Now worry about his eye sight so let an Indian driver shuttle him around in the Merc.
(Talk to Grandpa kids, talk to him while he's still around, ask him what it was like, get it on tape. It may be of some personal value someday).
"So we beat on, boats against the current", push on just a wee bit more, we may with some effort realize we've only peeled away the layers of the onion which are exposed purposefully so that we come to believe that we're actually getting to the heart of the matter.
Sometimes we believe we've reached the inner circles; American women married to Arab men often get this far and it's as far as some will ever get.
G'head.
Put on a hijab. Volunteer twice a week to work at the A.W.A.R.E Center. Say "yallah" a lot. You'll fit right in. Right where you are supposed to be. There's more, but why trouble yourself. Isn't life a mystery? Do you enjoy life? Look at the stars. Do they make you wonder? Are you awed? Go with it. Go with the feeling. Go with the silent feeling. Go with bliss. Don't spoil it with questions. Silence. With a neglible, imperceptible degree of exception, the universe almost entirely exists in total silence. That is God's domain. Quiet.
Questions make too much noise.
Don't delude yourself Miss America.
There's more to discover.
You're still on the outside, now locked out of the main chamber which is hidden behind many layers of drawn curtains. On the other side of the curtains--more dissimulation and accessible doorways which lead to inaccessible labyrynthine corridors which spiral down then up then down then up, finally we might reach another labyrinthine structure: but we're tired. So we learn that all we really need to know are a few phrases, salutations and rationalizations set out like a buffet, a quick answer to questions which satisfy the immediate needs of people who want to know how is your color? (Thank God) how is your day (God is generous) you've lost some weight (Mashalla). See you later (God willing)
This is all the conversation ye need know. National compreres working side by side for 20 years never get much beyond this level of discovery. Why should we strangers be any different?
You want a different answer? Well, he hasn't come in yet. How's that?
Fadal.
Take a seat.
Have some tea. How much sugar do you take with your tea?
God willing, an answer may come around mid-morning. Maybe tomorrow. God willing.
I carried to the administration building the hammer I used to crack through the marble veneer covering the Arab mind; I want learn more.
The Arab mind gives very little away. Individualism is important but what's the point in revealing it to strangers? Individualism is also key to understanding westerners, especially, 'mericans. It's in reverse sadly; whether they want it or not, strangers are often subjected to learning just who it is they are talking to regardless of whether or not this is of concern to them.
If...I...sp-ah--eak, slow....ly...then...would...you (point finger out)..know...what...I (point finger in) ..mean (point to the brain)? Hell....lo-O!
(The little Bengali tea boy just smiled and whobbled his head from side to side and thought "What an asshole")
True, we outsiders are guilty of misunderstanding the culture, making our hasty generalizations based on assumptions; we prove our hypothesis about the Arab mind without following any scientific methodology other than, if I don't get what I want when I want it, some lazy sunnabitch dropped the ball.
However, some responsibility for our misreading rests upon the Arab mind as well. Drop those metaphorical knickers and show us what you got because I am really confused.
For example--I can read Arabic--simplified, billboard, street sign, store front Arabic. I know that in Kuwait there is a large mall called "The City Center", and in Arabic, instead of the sign reading in translation "Al Markez Al Medina", it transliterates:from right to left "retneC ytiC".
So, naturally I might ask, why would they do that?
Big mistake. Never ask why. There's a simplified reason. There's Andalus. There's transparent. Then there's Kufti.
The beauty of cryptic Kuftic calligraphy is in harmony with the purposely complicated arrangement of streets and alleys (designed to disorient marauders), and both reflect the super ego of an indigenous population that went from village wells, candle light, and one town battery operated radio crackling away with the latest promises of Gamal Nassir to unify under his guidance.
Then came modern urban sprawl in fewer generations than "son of, son of".
Grandpa remembers the radio. He once had a donkey. Now worry about his eye sight so let an Indian driver shuttle him around in the Merc.
(Talk to Grandpa kids, talk to him while he's still around, ask him what it was like, get it on tape. It may be of some personal value someday).
"So we beat on, boats against the current", push on just a wee bit more, we may with some effort realize we've only peeled away the layers of the onion which are exposed purposefully so that we come to believe that we're actually getting to the heart of the matter.
Sometimes we believe we've reached the inner circles; American women married to Arab men often get this far and it's as far as some will ever get.
G'head.
Put on a hijab. Volunteer twice a week to work at the A.W.A.R.E Center. Say "yallah" a lot. You'll fit right in. Right where you are supposed to be. There's more, but why trouble yourself. Isn't life a mystery? Do you enjoy life? Look at the stars. Do they make you wonder? Are you awed? Go with it. Go with the feeling. Go with the silent feeling. Go with bliss. Don't spoil it with questions. Silence. With a neglible, imperceptible degree of exception, the universe almost entirely exists in total silence. That is God's domain. Quiet.
Questions make too much noise.
Don't delude yourself Miss America.
There's more to discover.
You're still on the outside, now locked out of the main chamber which is hidden behind many layers of drawn curtains. On the other side of the curtains--more dissimulation and accessible doorways which lead to inaccessible labyrynthine corridors which spiral down then up then down then up, finally we might reach another labyrinthine structure: but we're tired. So we learn that all we really need to know are a few phrases, salutations and rationalizations set out like a buffet, a quick answer to questions which satisfy the immediate needs of people who want to know how is your color? (Thank God) how is your day (God is generous) you've lost some weight (Mashalla). See you later (God willing)
This is all the conversation ye need know. National compreres working side by side for 20 years never get much beyond this level of discovery. Why should we strangers be any different?
You want a different answer? Well, he hasn't come in yet. How's that?
Fadal.
Take a seat.
Have some tea. How much sugar do you take with your tea?
God willing, an answer may come around mid-morning. Maybe tomorrow. God willing.
1 Comments:
happy christmas!
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