On Olives & Sake: The Written Episodes of My Life

Moving...

2008-12-06T01:06:00.002+09:00

I have been on this blog for more than 3 years already. It has been my little place of solace for a long time. But now, change is in order.

I am moving to a more comfortable, and accessible place.

http://yazanbadran.com/blog/

Update your links, and follow me there to give you a quick tour of my new house.

I have to say, I will miss the blue lines of this blog.

Ciao Blogspot.

Their Golan

2008-12-01T01:13:00.007+09:00

Syrian Bloggers decided to initiate a Blogging week about the Golan.

Here is my participation,

To be honest, I find it rather funny and comical, how all of Syria suddenly decided to remember this Golan a few years ago. Everyone at the same time seems to have gotten this divine message on how we are entitled to the Golan.

Are we entitled to the Golan?

Tell me, how are we entitled to that land?

We betrayed it. We (collectively) let it succumb to our enemy, we let its people down and we lost them their homes, their lands, and their families. We were the ones who turned its people into Nazeheen (refugees). We are the ones who left them in the most dire of situations, and continued watching our Maraya. We are the ones who turned our backs on them after we lost them their homeland, and we are the ones who continue to ignore their plight, and leave them living in the slums. We are the ones who continue to treat them like second-class citizens. And we were the ones who also turned a deaf ear to the plight of their courageous families who decided to stay in that land. We were the ones who ignored it for years on end, and then decided to dust it out of the box when we found it politically viable.

You and I, can lay no claim to the Golan. We have no moral right to that land.

But make no mistake; that land belongs, and will always do, to the brave men and women who stayed there, and refused to give away their ID cards for 40 years. It belongs to the disenfranchised and poverty-stricken generations of Nazeheen. Those who were thrown out of their homes, into this pathetic excuse for a homeland. They, and only they, can lay claim to that land.

They lay claim to the land, and they lay claim to our conscience.

We own not a single stone in that land, rather, we owe it to them.

Nevertheless, just as much as we have no moral claim to it, we have a moral responsibility to bring it back to them, kiss their foreheads and ask for forgiveness.

When Will This Circle of Horror End?

2008-11-29T23:02:00.003+09:00

Had Gadia - From Amos Gitai's Free Zone.

Cynicism at its best

2008-11-26T02:04:00.003+09:00

If you did not actually know for a fact that this is the real Walid bin Talal, what would your reaction be?

I watch his body language and the background, and wonder, what the hell?

Random Snippets of Life

2008-11-13T22:09:00.004+09:00

I started writing computer programs back in 1993. My cousin Houssam had just come back from Germany with a Ph.D, and took on himself to start an information revolution in our sleepy Latakia. I was his first and most personal student. I remember those first few months quite vividly. I remember almost all the programs that we made on LogoWriter. That summer, I remember spending 8-9 hours everyday in front of those black and white screens. (Pixel-burners as they used to be called, because the monitor physical pixels would actually be burnt out if they weren't changed in a timely manner, hence the invention of Screen Savers!). My mom wasn't very impressed when my glasses doubled in thickness the next year.

Houssam, 10 years after coming back, went into depression, sold everything and moved back to Dubai/Germany.

After coming back from Syria this October, my Professor offered me to join his Lab. I am writing programs again (a little more complicated than moving a drawing turtle, but still programs). It feels just as satisfying as it did 15 years ago.

***

I love the Spring and Autumn time in Japan. Spring here (and autumn likewise) is an explosion of Color, rather than colors. What overwhelms you is not all the different colors that pop out of no where, rather, the intensity of that pinkish hue that overtakes everything. The cherry blossoms bring out all the spectrum of white and pink, they fill out the trees, the ground and the sky. Every single petal has its own distinct lifelines of pink, but all of them seem to flow together in perfect harmony.

Japanese spring comes unannounced, takes you by surprise, and leaves just as unexpectedly. In 2 weeks, you won't find a trace of that white blanket that used to cover everything... All that you're left with is Summer. Autumn, however, sneaks in much more slowly, the leaves start changing colors in early October, bringing out all the burning of red and the seriousness of brown. It takes over everything you see, by mid Noveember. Even the November sunsets, they all seem to be intertwined in some heavenly plot to paint the city tangerine. Autumn never really leaves, in the coldest of winters, there would still come Sundays where it feels as if Autumn is in full blow.

***

I find myself, more often than not, repelled by the argument that there is no fundamental difference between masculinity and femininity. And that the whole concept of Gender is a socially constructed type of myth.

I agree heartily that our own perception of Gender is terribly flawed and inevitably affected by centuries of conscious social imbalance.
However, that does not, in any way, negate the fact that even before human consciousness, gender was indeed a factor in self-perception, and that gender is rooted in the very concept of the sexual act.

I find it hard to believe, that through the 200 million years of evolution, since the first mammal, having one particular dominant pattern for sexual reproduction, had no effect whatsoever on the self-perception and even the evolution of both sexes.

***

Lately, I've been having quite a hard time going to sleep early. Insomnia has plagued my nights for almost a month, while sleep deprivation ruins my few hours of sunlight.

It's a terrible feeling when you're rolling in your bed, thousands of thoughts seem to race around at that particular moment. You catch yourself, one too many times, conversing with yourself, or with a person that happens to be stuck in the back of your head that night. I have found myself, involuntarily, conversing with people that I haven't met in years, or people that I've only met once, a long time ago, just because I happened to land on their name, or facebook page before I went to sleep.

Every half an hour or so of futile attempts to sleep, or when my thoughts lead me to particularly painful or depressing memory, I light up my cell phone, look at the time, sigh, and shake all the thoughts out of my head. Maybe even open my macbook and take a look at my email. A glance at the clock and suddenly it's not 2:30 anymore, it's 3:15 now, 1 hour less of sleep.

Good night everyone!

Radiohead

2008-10-03T23:06:00.003+09:00

Hypnotizing, is the word. Radiohead's concert was hypnotizing.

Listening to Thom Yorke chant Exit Music (for a film) with a completely silent crowd was a truly exceptional experience.

You can try the best you can
If can try the best you can
The best you can is good enough

Radiohead - Optimistic - Live in Osaka

And ofcourse, the most natural thing to wrap up an evening like this in japan was...

On Hope

2008-09-26T04:39:00.004+09:00

Almost a year ago, I was sitting in the office of the head of the Political Security apparatus in Damascus, to get an approval for a new passport instead of that stolen in Thailand. I was sitting there, listening to him as he read out loud my father’s file, and counted the number of arrest warrants with his name. That was less than a week after my parents’ death.
He rolled up in his big fancy leather chair, and said, “What exactly guarantees, that if we do give you a new passport, you wont go and turn out to be an asshole like your father?” I closed my eyes, swallowed myself, and let my uncle do the talking.
2 days later, I walked out of the immigration bureau of Homs with a brand new passport, and the freedom to leave anytime I wanted. Less than a week later I was boarding a plane to Egypt and eventually back to Japan.

That flight was probably the worst, and darkest two hours I’ve ever had to go through. My sense of abandonment was the only individual thing I could put my hands on. Everything else was just blurry, and painful.
I looked around as I was leaving and couldn’t think of a single reason for me to come back. I couldn’t find any part of me in anyone or anything here. I remember thinking back then of what a pathetic, deformed and fragile generation I was representing.
Followed by the most terrible year of my life in Japan. I had to literally deconstruct my own sense of identity. This pathetic, deformed and fragile identity that grew through years of the most honest forms of make-believe and doublethink. One that promised to collapse under any pressure, to leave me, at 21, completely naked and defenseless, sitting in a plane heading nowhere.
I’ve hit rock bottom this last year. The feeling that took over me at these moments was one of utter homelessness. There was not a single place where I felt any sense of belonging, not even within myself.

Now, as I look back at last year, I realize that I’ve completely come a full circle since that October. While I am nowhere closer to reconstructing my own sense of identity, I do feel like I already have the means to do it. And it will take years before I fully comprehend why and how this happened, this sudden collapse of everything I knew as part of me.
During the last month I spent here, a tremendous amount of recovery happened. Walking through the narrow alleys of the old city of Tartous tempted me to venture into the few old houses that still survive in my own Latakia, to talk to their people and listen to their stories. The little camel arcs that I saw while I was walking through this strange mix of new ugly facades and old rocks felt like they were filling a real empty spot in my mind.
I felt so close to this place, I felt like we were going through the same exact crisis. My Latakia too had a collapse in its own sense of identity. It wasn’t sudden, and it was more like someone shattering a fine china plate, but the end result was almost the same. I, like many others now, was living on the very edge of the cliff. The whole country is living off the edge of a cliff.

The only thing that I can see clearly around me is this collective lack of belonging. This collective collapse of everything people were building as their identity. Not many are conscious of what is happening, but even them, you can see them desperately trying to hold on to anything that may be saved.
It is truly sad to see this happening, in a sense. But it also offers a real chance to truly change. To try to reconstruct together our own national identity, just as we do with our own personal one. To start critiquing ourselves, and our world more consciously. To dust off our own layers and layers of cement and ugly facades and look what’s underneath. To read our own history more critically, and reconnect with it. To regain a long lost sense of dignity and humanity. To try and let this generation recognize its problems, and express them.
It’s a monumental challenge. But it doesn’t seem like any of the people in power is willing to recognize it. Everybody seems happy to just surrender this place and its people to this strange mix of old wooden language, mazot and mega projects.

Summer

2008-07-19T17:18:00.002+09:00

Two more weeks to go, and I am off to another airport. I am particularly looking forward to this summer. In many ways, it will be a much-needed closure, and hopefully it will provide me with, also, much needed inspiration and motivation.

This will probably be the last visit to Syria in a while. As I finish my second year here, I will have to pay more attention to internship opportunities and actually start thinking of my post-graduation plans, hence, less time to spend on airplanes to the Middle East. There’s no point in making assumptions though, I’ve learnt my lesson, that plans don’t always (almost never) work the way you thought they would. Nonetheless, just for the sake of argument let’s lose the cynicism for a while.

I finish my last final on the late afternoon of the glorious day of July 31st. I drink myself into absolute unconsciousness and spend August 1st enjoying my hangover without worrying about homework, linger around the apartment and pack my stuff.
At the early hours of the morning of August 2nd, I head out to Osaka, dragging three bags (?). Spend the day with the wonderful Bulgarians of Kansai, and then jubilantly take the train to the airport the next day.

This is my tentative plan for the next couple of weeks.

It will be a well-packed summer.

August 2-9, Kuala Lampur, Malaysia (I am using Malaysian airlines, and I couldn't resist stopping in Malaysia on the way). Which will include spending another one of those random birthdays in random places with random people (I still haven’t made up my mind whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing).

August 10-15, Beirut, a little trip down memory lane.

August 15 (hopefully), off to Latakia and then off again to Damascus for what is arguably the highlight of my summer, Ziad Rahbani, Live in concert.

August 22-25, back to Beirut for a blogging conference, and more importantly have a chance to catch up with the wonderful Sami, and try to drag him for a few days in Latakia.

The rest of the trip, try to rediscover the places, the people and the language. Which will probably include:

- Spending much time on coach-buses between Latakia, Homs, Damascus, Aleppo and the beautiful little sister of Tartous.
- Many lazy days on the beach, or somewhere in the greenery of Kasab.
- As little coffee as possible, and in that same spirit, as much alcohol as possible.

But, for now, Let me get back to my Assembly homework.

On Paris

2008-07-13T18:34:00.011+09:00

Seeing our President in Paris gives me a whole set of mixed feelings. It isn’t hard to notice why this is a big event for Syria and Syrians. Ending a horrible 3 years of speculations and dreadful possibilities. The Syrian regime has come out unscathed, stronger and definitely scored much higher than its foes on the credibility scale (ironically enough, that is). They shouldn’t take all the credit though, for what better enemies could you have than the imbecile trio of Bush, the Saudis and the March 14ers. Having the Saudis in a coalition that was oh-so concerned with human rights violations of the regime, was no less comedic than having the March 14ers whining about foreign intervention in Lebanon, and the sectarian nature of Hizbulla. Nonetheless, it would be futile not to admit that they have successfully navigated the most treacherous of waters. As to why did we have to venture there in the first place, that will be up for discussion and disagreement for years to come. No matter what you have to say about them (and there is a lot to be said), I can’t say I’m not enjoying this break from that constant stream of ignorant (if not flat out racist and hypocritical) media portrayal of Syria.

On the other hand, as beautiful and elegant our First Gentleman and First Lady look together as they walk down that red carpet, I can’t help wondering whether people like Michel Kilo, Anwar al-Bunni or Aref Dalileh even cross their minds as they smile and shake hands. As they walk triumphantly through the streets of Paris, what kind of a country do they think of, that country that they left behind. What do they think of that? The poverty, the corruption, the pollution, the monopolies, and the stagnant social, educational, political and cultural life. What about Seydnaya?

I know this post might raise some eyebrows. But I think, it is very sad to see how we are coerced, everyday, to live our lives in that narrow space of black and white, wrong and right. I, for one, don’t feel like I can play that game. That being said, it does not mean that I am simply neutral. I am, and will always be, strongly opinionated. The fact is, I would feel like a hypocrite if I had to tweak or modify (no matter how little) my own sense of the world just so I can join one of them (camps), and be “opinionated”. It would be, and let me quote Wassim on this one, more like “Political cheerleading”.

2008-07-12T04:32:00.001+09:00

It’s hard to write, if you’re not reading. A very simple fact.
The last book I read was Pamuk’s Snow. It took a lot of effort, and resilience to finish it. I’m not sure why, at any other time I would’ve devoured it in a day. The story is beautifully written, and the scenery is breathtaking. Nonetheless, it took me 43 days, to be exact, to finish it.
I’ve never been this far away from the written word.
I miss the thick yellow pages of our Library. My father had a passion for the old novels printed in the 1930s-1960, when paper still had a texture, when every book had a distinct smell. He passed that down to me.
I spent hours on end flipping and reading Churchill’s war memoirs. I loved the smell it left on my fingers after I put it back on the shelf.
It was Jubran that put my little heart’s ache into words. I was 10, and she sat behind me in class, the most beautiful girl that ever wore that brown uniform.
I loved reading them times and times again. It was all too easy for me to start over from the beginning and go through the story as if it was the very first time. I might have read Farewell to Arms more than twenty times, yet it never failed to shake me all over again.
I can’t help thinking of all these characters, not characters, but people. All these people that I’ve come to meet, and care for. It’s disturbing to think they’re all nothing but a product of one’s mind, just like Sophie in Sophie’s World.
The words of these novels feel so far away now, but that distinct smell of age lingers on. It reminds me how tired I am of, and how terrible I am at this passive game of waiting.

Leaving the Island, finally

2008-06-25T19:58:00.002+09:00

There is something that fascinates me in Airports. An amazing, restless flow of energy and emotions.

Off to another airport...

The truth is...

2008-06-05T22:07:00.001+09:00

I'm a wreck.

That's the truth.

I can't sleep until I'm too tired to open my eyes, and once I do, I never want to wake up. I have dreams of everything I wanted to do, and nightmares of everything I did.

I struggle to concentrate, I struggle, I truly, struggle to be interested in anyone, or anything around me.

I feel as homeless as can be. And it's choking me alive. There is nothing worse than this feeling of alienation from everything that used to your home. This disconnection, this continuous state of denial. I think I've forgotten how to belong anymore.

I'm tired. I'm really tired, and I know well enough that a break, just won't do.

Happy 6th of June everybody.

Disillusionment

2008-05-21T23:28:00.005+09:00

"We are condemned to hope..."

Saadallah Wannous.

I know I am running the risk of being cursed by Wassim for over-quoting Saadallah Wannous, but that is exactly what I am feeling. What happened today, gives absolutely no real reason (especially if you look at the history of our Middle East) to be hopeful, be it the Syrian-Israeli renewed talks, or the "breakthrough" agreement in Doha. Nonetheless, it is sometimes necessary to take in, these very little shreds of hope, close your eyes, and think, just think, of a better day.

I, confirmed my flight to Beirut this August.

Palestine Day, May 15

2008-05-14T19:38:00.001+09:00

أَنَا يُوسُفٌ يَا أَبِي.
يَا أَبِي، إِخْوَتِي لاَ يُحِبُّونَنِي،
لاَ يُرِيدُونَنِي بَيْنَهُم يَا أَبِي

يَعْتَدُونَ عَلَيَّ وَيَرْمُونَنِي بِالحَصَى وَالكَلاَمِ
يُرِيدُونَنِي أَنْ أَمُوتَ لِكَيْ يَمْدَحُونِي
وَهُمْ أَوْصَدُوا بَابَ بَيْتِكَ دُونِي
وَهُمْ طَرَدُونِي مِنَ الحَقْلِ
هُمْ سَمَّمُوا عِنَبِي يَا أَبِي
وَهُمْ حَطَّمُوا لُعَبِي يَا أَبِي

حَينَ مَرَّ النَّسِيمُ وَلاَعَبَ شَعْرِيَ
غَارُوا وَثَارُوا عَلَيَّ وَثَارُوا عَلَيْكَ،
فَمَاذَا صَنَعْتُ لَهُمْ يَا أَبِي

الفَرَاشَاتُ حَطَّتْ عَلَى كَتِفَيَّ،
وَمَالَتْ عَلَيَّ السَّنَابِلُ،
وَالطَّيْرُ حَطَّتْ على راحتيَّ

فَمَاذَا فَعَلْتُ أَنَا يَا أَبِي،
وَلِمَاذَا أَنَا

أَنْتَ سَمَّيْتَنِي يُوسُفًا،
وَهُمُو أَوْقَعُونِيَ فِي الجُبِّ، وَاتَّهَمُوا الذِّئْبَ
وَالذِّئْبُ أَرْحَمُ مِنْ إِخْوَتِي..

أَبَتِ! هَلْ جَنَيْتُ عَلَى أَحَدٍ عِنْدَمَا قُلْتُ إِنِّي:
رَأَيْتُ أَحَدَ عَشَرَ كَوْكَبًا، والشَّمْسَ والقَمَرَ، رَأَيْتُهُم لِي سَاجِدِينْ.

محمود درويش

The World

2008-05-13T19:36:00.003+09:00

China: 12,000 dead and counting in a 7.8 earth quake.

Burma: The Burmese government still rejecting aid while the death toll still rises from initial reports of 100,000. [I'm sure someone will come to their defense, I mean, I'm sure they are a victim of a biased western media, just because of their righteous anti-western policies, No?]

Meanwhile in Lebanon, Bush offers to extend help to the army so it can disarm Hizbulla [Reads: If you guys still need any help dragging yourself to full blown civil war, we'd be more than glad to help].

And personally, I refuse to be drawn into a game of "Either this, or that...", it is not either Hariri or Nasrallah, just like it's not either Assad or Bush. I'm very sorry for those marching armies of color-blind people.

The more accurate picture

2008-05-09T11:14:00.003+09:00

I don't want to look at the bigger picture anymore, it matters very little when the smaller one is this dark.

All I can see right now is, Lebanese people shooting at other Lebanese people. All I can see is, people eager to start shooting, put up barricades, and split Beirut into "Manate2" [zones].

At this moment, I care very little whether this was orchestrated by the US, or Syria. Iran, or Israel. If I look carefully, all I can see is, Lebanese people shooting at Lebanese people.

Is Islamic culture stronger than Barbie?

2008-04-28T23:34:00.011+09:00

"Promoting figures like Barbie, Batman, Spiderman and Harry Potter and the uncontrolled import of CDs of video games and films should alarm all the country's officials," Ghorban Ali Dori Najafabadi was quoted as saying by the student ISNA news agency.

"We need to find substitutes to ward off this onslaught, which aims at children and young people whose personality is in the process of being formed," he added.

Dori Najafabadi's comments came in a letter to an Iranian vice president, urging measures to protect "Islamic culture and revolutionary values".

This was not how I intended to get back to the blogsphere after my long hiatus, but statements like these truly infuriate me.
What is really alarming, and what is a real crisis is what hides behind this pronounced anti-western sentiments Muslims [Or at least those who speak for them] seem to be competing over. I think it hides a serious inferiority complex, one that people seem in complete self-denial about.

Is there any other explanation to all the fuss we get whenever there's a westerner who converts into Islam? Is it that we think it makes our case stronger? Is it that we think they ARE better than us, and their recognition raises us a little bit more? Is there any other explanation for why we keep quoting those western journalists with such vigor [For a wider perspective on this, you might want to read Rime's post]? Why is it that an American reporter who knows close to nil about the region, is always more authoritative a source [To us, that is. Depending which side of the divide you're on, you will have your own list of journalists.] than any local reporter, or even an expat journalist who might happen to know the region [Yes, standards of academic research and reporting are higher, most of the time. But, that is not the reason why we love them so much, if it was, we wouldn't have been so selective about WHO we listen to].

It just seems that those who are most critical of and most aggressive towards the "decaying west" appear to be, at the end of the day, the most desperate for its approval, at least subconsciously.

But, doesn't it make sense? Isn't it the simple law of Identity. Whenever a component of your Identity is in danger [or is perceived to be in danger], you magnify it until it eats up all other parts of your identity. And the poorer your perception of your identity gets, the less confidence you have in it. And the less confidence you have, the more aggressive, defensive and eventually a defeatist, that you become.

And all these Salfis/Wahabis/etc... who present their magical banner of "Islam is the Solution", in the form of letting go of all these "western" influences that we have been misguided to think of as civilization, or at least a collective development for the human race, shut out the rest of the world and go back to the "real Islam". Then and only then will we be victorious again. Then and only then will Baghdad, Damascus and Cairo be back as the centers of human cultures.
The bitter irony of it, is that the main characteristic of that Islamic Empire they pine so much for, in its Golden age, was how confident it was in its own identity, and thus, how open, tolerant and receptive it was towards other cultures.

Only a crisis of confidence in one's identity, produces such a feeling of inferiority, and that of intimidation towards the "west". And this, I believe, has been a major obstacle that kept us stalled at the same spot [if not moving backwards] for nearly 700 years to date. The only real collective attempt to overcome this chronic condition was the Arab renaissance. Unfortunately, it was nipped in the bud.

P.S.: Just to preempt any comments about the subject. Having said that, it doesn't mean I am blind to the role the "west" played in us reaching this low, but since everyone seems to be well on top of their game in pointing the injustice and cruelty inflicted on us [And there has been plenty], I thought maybe "some" self-criticism was in order.

When I started writing, and before it developed into a full blown boring essay, I was only gonna say this:

"النائب العام الإيراني يطالب بحماية الثقافة الإسلامية من دمية الـ"باربي

كس اختها لهي الثقافة, أو الدين, أو القيم, أو... اللي رح تهدمها لعبة باربي. وبس.

Hewar in Kyoto

2008-03-23T22:02:00.002+09:00

Kinan Azmeh and Issam Rafea - Dance

A crazy cycle of Sushi, Sake, Music and Sleep deprivation would be the only way to describe those 3 days spent in Kyoto. Rushing out from one taxi to the other, from one temple to the other, and from one sushi joint to the next. Leaving stuffed up with food, images, and the sound of 3 syrians laughing disturbingly [as we'd find out later] out loud.

This blog is not dead!

2008-03-10T05:00:00.006+09:00

I have been an absentee blogger for the most part during the last couple of months. In no way does that mean I stopped reading what you all have been writing. It's actually more rewarding sometimes, to just read.

I have also been somewhat busy with other projects I'm involved in. Namely, GV Lingua Arabic and CouchSurfing. As well as getting the best out of this holiday from school and believe me, I AM.

Anyways, I'm still in that place where I can't find it in me to write about any of the things I want to write about.

Meanwhile, here's an interview that the wonderful Amira had with me for Global Voices.

A Syrian blogger in Japan? That's no other than our Syria author and Arabic Lingua editor Yazan Badran, who has agreed to sit with us this week for our Blogger of the Week series of interviews with Global Voices Online authors and volunteers.

Who is Yazan Badran and what does he do? What interests him and what annoys him?

“I am a Syrian, and a Human. I grew up in Latakia, which is a little sleepy city on the eastern Mediterranean. In my early years I spent the summers in Beirut, another Mediterranean city, not-so-sleepy, though. Culturally, I am as Levantine as they come.

My parents were veteran Marxists, and my grand parents were highly-respected religious figures, one of the many paradoxes and extremes that gave me interesting insights into very different worlds of thought, something I feel very privileged to have had at such a young age.

Humans interest me in a profound way, and in many ways I find myself on the extreme side of anthropocentrism. Interests? First and far most, travel. Then comes Philosophy, Literature and Photographic arts, Politics and Technology are the areas that fascinate me the most.

Annoyances are a slippery road. I am very easily annoyed [something I'm not too proud of], whether it is someone parking their cart in the middle of a supermarket aisle, or having to watch Fox News covering just about any story,” says the 21-year-old blogger.

What are you studying in Japan and what has it got to do with blogging?

Well, I am a Monbukagakusho Scholar, studying Computer Science at Nagoya Institute of Technology. What has it got to do with blogging? Well, it depends. My studies per se are not quite influential in my blogging; I don't blog about Technology much, but the cultural experience of living in Japan, learning the language, and studying in that (very) foreign language has affected what I blog about, and how I blog.

How long have you been blogging and why? What do you blog about mostly?

I've been blogging since June 2005, which is just a little less than three years. At that day, a car bomb in Beirut had assassinated Samir Qassir, someone that I had much respect for. The event itself, and its context shook me deeply. I felt it was extremely important to voice out the individuals. In an area where we live daily with interconnected conflicts, it becomes easy to forget the humans, the individuals, in favor of the “Causes” that are always “Just” in the eyes of their beholders. I wanted to write about me, simple and clear. I wrote much about politics, religion, society and development, but I was always very careful to remind every reader that it was very personal. When I wrote about politics it was politics that was personal to me. And with the number of national and international media personnel covering these conflicts, each with their own agendas, and each claiming objectivity to himself, it was important to have people who are just that, individuals.

How long have you been with Global Voices Online and why?

I came to Global Voices in February 2006. The next day riots in Damascus torched the Norwegian and Danish embassies in Damascus. That was my first article on Global Voices. It was something very painful to watch, never mind writing about it. But the amount of reaction, and the kind of reaction the Syrian blogsphere took that day was and still one of the reasons I still blog, and in a way one of the reasons I write for Global Voices. I don't want to mention the obvious, Global Voices has been covering many stories that conventional media wouldn't think of covering, and in many ways they seem to be the only ones worth covering. Representing the Syrian blogsphere in such a diverse environment seemed extremely important for two main reasons; One is the amount of encouragement that will give to what was a young, small blogsphere that was to grow ever rapidly since then. The second, is that it represent the “individuals” which is exactly what I went out to do when I started blogging.

In a nutshell, can you describe the Syrian blogoshere? As Syria author, what interests you about the Syrian blogosphere? Who are your favourite bloggers and what do they write about? Are Syrian bloggers a true reflection of Syrian society?

When I first started blogging, back in June 2005, there were only a handful of blogs out there [maybe eight]. Ayman Haykal, was the first blogger I'd read, and his enthusiasm about blogging Syria was enormous that I can safely say he inspired many people to keep blogging at a point when we seemed very lonely.

Now, the picture is very different, the Syrian blogsphere is one that is growing rapidly. And more importantly the amount of quality blogs is increasing. That growth was extremely hindered last year with the government's censorship of all (.blogspot) blogs, but I can safely say that it has started to recover again, with many people returning with ever more enthusiasm, switching to other blogging platforms just to circumvent the blocking.

Is it representative of the Syrian society? I can't really say that. A great number of bloggers are expats [including myself], and those who are inside Syria mostly blog in English. Lately the blogsphere has been expanding horizontally, with many blogs in Arabic or switching to Arabic, which is a good sign, because it helps paint a more sincere picture of Syria.

There are many great bloggers out there, many of them have come to be good friends at one point. I can only mention a few. Ayman Haykal, whom I'd mentioned earlier. Abu Fares is our own rock-star famous blogger, whom I've interviewed for GV before. Omar Faleh, whose posts I personally relate to very much. Razan Ghazzawi, whose conviction, enthusiasm and activism, in real life just as much as on the blogsphere has been a real inspiration for the last year. And many many others - Rime Allaf, The Syrian Brit, Omar Salaymeh, Sasa, Abu Kareem, Wassim.

Describe your work at Arabic Lingua and tell us about your plans and future hopes for the site?

I am the editor for the Arabic Lingua project. I run a wonderful team of volunteer translators, and do translations myself.

Lingua seemed like the natural expansion of GVO. As someone mentioned before, to actually call ourselves Global, we need to speak Globally. So now GV speaks more than 10 languages. Which is, to say the least, amazing. Arabic Lingua is a part of this family. It is important to bring all these wonderful diverse stories from authors all around the world to the reach of Arabic readers. It was important to bridge that gap between Middle Eastern blogs that blogged in Arabic and those that blogged in English. When I translate an article from an Arab country, and all the links are to blogs that blog in English, I am linking them to a whole new audience who otherwise would not read it. And vice-versa.

Arabic Lingua is still a very young project [we were officially launched just before the new year]. So for now we are trying to keep a flow of articles appearing on the site, and sustain that flow to build up a readership. Future plans include more systematic focus on regions other than MENA, as to serve in widening the sphere of interest for Arabic readers. Quality is also something that is very important, to develop methods to determine the quality of a certain translation and how to improve that; something that is very important because all of us are just amateur translators.

When not online, what do you do? What are your hobbies and interests?

I am in love with the outdoors. Coming from the Mediterranean, both the sea and the mountain feels like natural habitat to me. I am happy to spend days on end camping out in the wonderful mountains around here in Japan. Travelling is also a real passion of mine. The simple conversations and everyday encounters while travelling are of my dearest memories. Swimming, walking and playing basketball is how I (try) to keep myself in shape. Music and Reading are as personal as politics to me. And, watching a Stanley Kubrick or Woody Allen movie with a glass of vodka is also known as a personal pastime.

Can you talk to us a bit about being an Arab in Japan? How different are the customs and traditions; people and attitudes; and everyday living from life in Syria?

Japan, is a very interesting experience. But like every other interesting experience, it is a very difficult one. The really difficult part is not being an Arab in Japan, as much as being a Foreigner in Japan. Being a foreigner in Japan is something that's been talked about again and again, so I won't go into that.

How different? As different as it can get. The main fundamental difference would be that Syria is a society with extremely complex ethnic, historic, religious and social backgrounds to every stone and every person. While Japan is an Island that was isolated from the outside world until 200 years ago, so it developed a very distinct culture. That is something that determines many aspects of your daily life. The matter of fact is, Japan is a country that you Need to be a part of in order to live comfortably in. Yet, it is not one that will accept you easily. Everyday here brings a new experience, but what makes it special is that most of these experiences borderline on the Extremes.

Final thoughts?

Thank you for this wonderful opportunity. I am personally very proud to be a member of this GV family, along with an amazing team of volunteer authors and translators. GVO is a wonderful symbol of how the Internet has changed the world, and ourselves, to the better.

Change

2008-02-12T04:09:00.000+09:00

Walking down a street that you've never walked, not knowing where it leads, walking down such a street is intoxicating beyond belief.

I'm wrapping up my second year in Japan. Almost 2 years since April 2006.

And this, aforementioned feeling, is probably the most amazing thing that Japan has given me. Japan, as in, the whole experience.

For Tariq

2008-02-06T16:31:00.000+09:00

It is important, to sound out. Even if very few will hear.

It is important to try, just try, to challenge the hegemony of fear.

For what it's worth, We Support Tariq.

[Tariq, is a fellow blogger, who was arrested for leaving a comment on a public forum, criticizing the Security Apparatus.]

More...
Free Tariq Campaign's Main Website.
Sign the Free Tariq Petition.
Razan's extensive coverage on the subject.

لبنان الجديد, طلع لحم بعجين. كمان مرة!

2008-02-05T02:30:00.000+09:00

رشيد: خمسة شباب لبنانية, خمسة شباب لبنانية عم يتمشو. مثلاً يعني. اي هودي مش خمسة, هودي واحد و واحد و واحد و واحد و واحد. هيك بيطلعو.

الحكيم: اي بيطلعو خمسة.

زياد: ما بيطلعو خمسة.

الحكيم: شو بيطلعو؟

زياد: ما بيطلعو ما مخهن معكوف بيفردو ما بيقدرو يطلعو.
لأنو مثلاً عالعكفة, ما الزلمي بعكفة, هلق عكفة على عكفة حكيم ما بتلقط معك بتزحط, بيصير في ما بيعود في مجال بيطلعو, بيجو ليطلعو بيزحطو. يعني هالعكفة مثلاً, واحد و واحد و واحد بيجو , بس بيضلو, ما بيطلعو.
واحد و واحد و واحد, حد بعض يعني, وووووو, هيك عرفت كيف مثلاً, ما في شي انو شي بيأثر على شي تاني. كل شي, شي. شي شي شي, بهالشكل مثلاً. مثلاً ما في مثلاً, شييي. شو هوي؟ ما في! مظبوط يا خيي؟
عرفت كيف حكيم؟

الحكيم: لا, ما فهمت عليك, ما فهمت عليك رشيد.

رشيد: العمى ليه؟؟

زياد الرحباني - فيلم أميركي طويل.

An Unplanned Friday Night

2008-01-12T12:39:00.001+09:00

I caught the train that runs to downtown Sakae, and like every other friday night, I made my way down to Heaven's Door. The small bar down in the basement of the liveliest district of Nagoya. To the upsetting of my perfectly ordinary friday night, the door said "Closed until next week".

Disappointed, and quite uneasy with the fact that I won't get my dose of intoxication with beer, nicotine, and Bob Dylan, I refuted the idea to call anyone or try any other bars, and made my way home through the big puzzle of little alleys that connects this city.

It was a very picturesque walk. I was already armed with the over coat and the scarf around my neck. The hands in the pockets. The melancholy of Pamuk's Istanbul, and the echoes of the last two hours of Maya's Manifesto. Tom Waits telling me that he's "in love with a jersey girl...". A fair baggage of painful memories, a road that goes ahead and little drops of rain pouring every now and then.

If this was a movie, this would be where all the revelations come pushing through, and driving the hero either to death or discovering his hidden success.
It was all too suited for that. All too suited indeed, that I walked into the first bar that had decent music and effectively anesthetized all these seeds of revelation.

The Alawite Question

2008-01-11T14:24:00.000+09:00

For some reason, I have missed this article when it was first published.

2 years on, the same questions linger on.

It is easy for an idealist like me to call them off, but they are still valid questions for many the Syrians on the streets.

And if you don't think so, just check the comment section, and you'll see how very pressing they still are.

It has been argued, times and times again, that the only possibility for a successful coup d'etat, that can hold social cohesion through a transitional period died with General Ghazi Kanaan, who was groomed for such a move [I say that, not without much irony].

A Visit

2008-01-05T21:57:00.000+09:00

syria is the kind of place where, within minutes of your arrival, you are transported into an old, 35mm, black and white family movie state, where achingly beautiful scenes bring you back to a not-so-far-away past where life was a bit more simple and pleasures were a bit less hard to reach.

Jimmy, has a wonderful recollection of his Syria visit, with a number of breathtaking photos.

Cosmic Self-conciousness

2008-01-05T01:10:00.000+09:00

How are we, as mankind, going to treat other life forms that we might bump into in that infinite comic matter?

This question is very relevant, especially if that other life form was less developed than ours.

2008

2008-01-01T19:22:00.000+09:00

2008, a year that I am strangely convinced will be a spectacular one. And it started out as nothing less than that.

I've had a more than wonderful start for this year, I hope everybody else did too.

I'm glad I can just commit 2007 to the bag of bad memories now, and look forward to this new year.

انفجار

2007-12-30T08:13:00.000+09:00

وزير الثقافه نعسان اغا قايل انو حيصير انفجار معرفه بسوريه, بعرف انك باليابان بس انتبه ما تصيبك شظية لان الانفجار يمكن يكون قد معرفة نعسان اغا

عمو نزيه...

كل عام وانتو بخير.

A post about Japan

2007-12-28T05:08:00.000+09:00

So, is it?

While the whole world will never stop marveling at the inexplicable economic and social miracle, that is Japan. Kyoto, once the most perfectly woven place, will continue to suffer with the likes of that hideous Kyoto tower. Rivers will continue to be dammed, shores to be splattered with cement. And 6 year old children will continue to commit suicide.

Corruption, will continue to plague the notorious bureaucracy [aka Japanese state], and the Zaito will continue to grow, eating all the savings of the Japanese people.

The educational system will continue to prove its flaws, one time after another, teaching false information, and shaping the kids into the obedient people that will live in cliques, like how they did in high school, not allowed to be better, nor worse, just average.

Xenophobia will rule, starting from the classroom...

Internet will be regulated, censored, and butchered.

I sometime doubt that foreign observers can't really see this, sometimes all I see is a disgustingly condescending outlook. How many of them would actually live in the 30m tin boxes that are Tokyo's apartments.

Poor people, strong state. As Alex Kerr so elegantly puts it.

Meanwhile, fear not. For the japanese cabinet makes it official: There are No UFOs!

In Memory of Death

2007-12-20T02:18:00.000+09:00

In memory of Ali Shafey el-Moussawi,

An Iraqi blogger, killed, 31 bullets between the chest and the head. 31 bullets in the face of humanity.

His father and brother were killed in a bombing two years ago, what's left of his family is his sister and mother.

How can you reflect on that, what possible words can you write about it.

What pain is it that you struggle to describe, what kind of helplessness, surrender and utter dispair do you feel, towards this kind of cruelty.

I can handle the cruelty of Death, but the cruelty of humans leaves me in pieces, everytime.

Scarcasm

2007-12-16T15:19:00.000+09:00

Sarcasm is God's own personalized art form.

Seriously?

2007-11-28T15:16:00.000+09:00

New rules declared that any reincarnations without government consent were illegal.

Think Sigmund Freud

2007-11-23T17:25:00.000+09:00

I am a lonely child.

I lived with my mom alone until I was 12, and slept in her bed until I was 9.

My mother was a pediatrician [i.e. no other doctor was allowed to lay hands on me until i was 18, except under severe circumstances, and close-friend-doctors only, under direct observation], Mom was my healer.

Boy, am i gonna have some serious relationship issues!

خلونا نعيش!

2007-11-20T18:30:00.000+09:00

هم ساكنو التفاصيل منذ صرختك الأولى وحتى نزعك الأخير.
منذ استيقاظك وحتى آخر هزيع في ليلك البهيم.
هم البداية والنهاية مروراً بما بينهما.
تلك القاعدة رغم تناثرها تشكل أرخبيلا واحداً من ظلمات عصر ولى وانقرض.
لقد انهارت الحضارات السابقة تحت ضربات الهمجيات السابقة واليوم ثمة من يفكر ويعمل على إعادة المشهد المأساوي الرهيب.
السيناريو عينه تقريباً..بدايته في التحريم وخاتمته في التهديم..
***
لولا الفراعنة من ذكر الهكسوس؟
لولا الرومان من سمع بقبائل الجرمان؟
لولا هرقل هل احتلتِ العقرب برجاً في السماء؟
****
كل ذلك تحت أنظار الملك المحنط منذ بضعة آلاف خريف..بعيد أفول عشتار...

نور الدين بدران 2-10-2007

خلونا نعيش!

Unsubscribe Me

2007-11-16T11:04:00.000+09:00

I got to know about this video through this wonderful interview with the director.

Amnesty International, Unsubscribe Me Campaign - Stress Position.

Brainstorming

2007-11-13T00:17:00.000+09:00

How do you get past your own Annie Hall?

Thank You

2007-11-02T12:35:00.000+09:00

"We are condemned to hope..."

Just as we are condemned to life...

I can not start to thank the many many people who stood by my side through the last months. The amount of support and passion I saw, and the sincere emotions I recieved was in every sense overwhelming.

For everyone who came, callled, posted, emailed or commented here, I give my sincere gratitude, to each and every one of you.

Thank you, and I do hope I will see you all in better times, for all of us.

2007-10-04T17:21:00.000+09:00

The shaved me up, cut my hair, and dressed me up so I can be "presentable" for my parents funeral.

I have broke that last bridge that connects me to this place.

May they rest in peace.

Thailand 1

2007-09-06T20:16:00.000+09:00

First impressions,

Why does everbody here greets me with "Shalom"

Well, I asked someone, and she said, "Well, they usually have cool hair... like you", I wonder whether I can take that as a complement.

Anyways, talk about a bad guess.

More later, Now I'm hopping on a bus out of crazy Bangkok up to Chiang Mai.

Ready, Set, Go!

2007-08-24T04:41:00.000+09:00

P.S. I'm gonna be transiting in Beijing Airport for a couple of hours. Anybody for a pro-freedom of speech rally there?! ;)

Freedom of Speech, Massacred and dragged through the streets of the Middle East

2007-08-23T07:35:00.000+09:00

What is happening in the Arab World is scary.

Reading this, made me go into real melancholy.

And the fact that there was absolutely no publicity about it makes it even more painful. Why do we have to be so selective in what we chose to fight for. Why was Kareem on almost every single blog, all through his trial, and sentence. While I struggled to find any mention of Mohamed Rashed al-Shohhi's case. And was it not for Amira slipping me a link to this small roundup from Sami Ben Gharbia on GlobalVoices I would not have even heard about it.

While Egyptian bloggerKareem was on trial because of things he chose to write, Mohamed is sentenced to 1 year in prison and $13,600 fine for an anonymous comment on an online forum he happened to run. [You think there might be a connection with the decision to ban comments on Syrian sites earlier this month?! Hmmm...].

Mohamed is in prison, and he literaly did not do ANYTHING.

It is not a blow at freedom of speech. No, this a serious well-planned decision that can only be described as mental-terrorism. This is not aimed to keep him from practicing his right to express himself (Again, the guy did not do anything), rather this is a warning to anyone who might even think of raising a voice. Whether against totalitarianism, corruption or repression... all of them are a common characteristic of our Arab World.

Again, in a very similar case, Kuwaiti blogger Bashar Al-Sayegh was arrested [He was released today] yesterday for an anonymous comment left on his forum.

If you read this, please help spread the word. Let's not be selective in what we chose to rally for.

The latest chunck of news coming from our Middle East does not look good.

Blogspot is still banned in Syria, contrary to earlier reports about the ban being lifted.

By decision from the Ministry of Communication, anonymous comments of Syrian sites are now illegal.

Wordpress is banned in Turkey.

UAE imprisons a webmaster and suspends the website over anonymous comments on his forum.

Kuwait detains a blogger over anonymous comments on his forum.

And, Egypt, Tunisia... Where to start exactly?!

UPDATE:
A letter from ex-PM Riad Seif regarding the continuous refusal to allow him to leave the country for medical treatment. (From Syrian Brit)...

More than two months after medical examinations and tests established that I have an advanced stage of prostate cancer, and after ascertaining that the necessary and viable treatment for such a situation is not available in Syria while it is available in some developed countries with the possibility of successful treatment as high as 90%, I submitted a request to travel for treatment outside the country to the Syrian authorities. So far, all of my attempts have failed and I have received nothing from the security authorities but delays and postponements, despite the advanced stage of the disease and fears that it might metastasize to other parts of my body.
I was subjected to a similar ordeal previously during my time in prison, when the coronary angiogram I had on 2/7/2005 showed an occlusion of the left anterior descending coronary artery, which required open-heart surgery to bypass the occlusion. After I was released on 1/18/2006, I filed a request to leave the country so that I could conduct the necessary surgical work, but this request was also denied.

Now that I have run out of options, I can find no alternative but to present my state of health to all those who are interested in human rights issues in Syria and in the world, with the hope that I will procure assistance in obtaining my natural and legitimate right to receive necessary treatment abroad that could let me spend the rest of my life in a natural way.

Damascus 13/8/2007

The Bloggers

2007-08-13T17:31:00.001+09:00

I dont usually post my GlobalVoices posts here, but I will do it this time because it is dedicated to the fellow bloggers all over this blogsphere.

My last piece on GlobalVoices was dedicated to the very personal bits that makes up this amazing blogsphere of Syrians.

Read it here.

2007-08-12T18:38:00.000+09:00

Who could enjoy the cosmic fireworks display when the rows of seats in the heavens were filled with nothing but ice and fire? who could have guessed that the first bold amphibian was not only crawling one small step up the shore, but also taking a giant leap on the long road to the point where the primates could see a panorama of their proud evolution from the start of that selfsame road? The applause for the Big Bang was heard only fifteen billion years after the explosion.

Jostein Gaarder - Maya.

No. They are not!

2007-08-09T19:12:00.000+09:00

It has been announced, nearly two months ago, that the State Department was disbanding a Syrian Destabilization Unit. Nobody commented on this. They said that it will be replaced with a unit that will work with more conformity under American law. I immediately sent a letter to the State Department (knowing that I was being sarcastic) regarding some official government visas they had sent me to process. I asked whether these people ‘were involved in the Syrian Destabilization Unit?’ They answered: ‘No. They are not.’ I never resist being sarcastic when I can.

Imad Mustapha - Syrian Ambassador to the US.

I might have a lot of attitude towards this regime, its foreign policy and most of its officials. But this man has always earned my respect. Mostly through his wonderful blog, but also through his wit.

Read the full interview here.

21

2007-08-08T18:37:00.000+09:00

1986

2007

I guess I'm still the same angry little kid.

Syrian Army Men, RIP

2007-07-27T07:04:00.000+09:00

To the 15 soldiers who died because of our monumental levels of neglection and corruption [If I hear Extreme Heat again I will literally explode myself].

Rest In Peace. May God have better mercy on you than your own country men.

Update:
An explosion in a Liquid Gas Containers Warehouse in Raqqa leaves many wounded, this time due to electricity blackouts.

Ink, always gets more vivid when it dries

2007-07-22T03:36:00.000+09:00

He writes with ink, he uses white paper with many small watermarks splattered all over it, and writes with ink. The ink takes a long time to dry, absorbed by the wet paper, it feels more vivid with time. Some of these papers have been lying here for years, some of them might still need many more years before you can read them.
I picked up one of them and started going through the smudgy lines.

...He would lie there next to her, for hours, watching the subtle movement of those lines on her back, as she breathes ever slowly on her way to sleep.
His fingers used to caress her skin, drawing lines slowly through the sweat. His fingers never felt more confident than when they're touching her back. Listening to the faint sounds of their hearts and breaths, breathing in all the odors in the room and going through the delicate details of her curves takes him to one of the many fairytale worlds they'd laughed so much about. Her dark, sun colored skin never fails to make his heart stop beating, for many hours, waiting for this body to speak, to tell a story of a world. He imagines how history took place between the small curves of her body. Right above her neck where her hair grows ever so soft, that is where Egyptians fought the Hittites in Kadesh. There, where a little drop of sweat was making its way down to her belly, was probably where Achilles had his last battle. Peace and war, love, life and death, revolutions, all couldn’t have taken place no place else other than her beautiful skin… The lines of her back form a different world from that we know. They tell Homer's Iliad and Neruda's Saddest Poem with few subtle moves, they explode with colors and words that he doubts anyone will be able to put into paintings or poems.

The ink-smudged papers fill the whole place around me, on the walls, over the television. Some were ripped apart but u can still see the ink seeping through them.

I try to make my way out, stepping on as few as I can. When I close the door behind me, I wonder, whether I might ever find my way back there again, and maybe, just maybe, write some of my own.

Who can imagine what goes through their minds as they lie there, while the whole world goes bustling around them behind these walls...

2007-07-20T00:09:00.000+09:00

نحن سلالة لا تدخل الأوطان إلا من منافيها
...

Change?

2007-07-12T04:50:00.000+09:00

Alex from Creative Syria, has launched this month's topic for his blogger forum,

If you had the choice what would you change in Syria?

This was my own addition to the debate... [Read the whole article here...]

To define what kind of change is needed in a country like Syria is not an easy mission, and most definitely it is not one without controversy.

I would say, among all the fundamental issues that our country (Syria, in the tightest geographical sense that is) is suffering from at the moment, whether it is a failing economy, a rising sense of consumerism, the issues of democracy and human rights and the constant retreat of secularism against conservatism, among many. The disintegration of our sense of Identity strikes me as the most alarming. (The space is too limited to go into the clear signs of this disintegration.)

Everybody perceives his own identity in a completely different manner. And even within a collective identity, there will always be not-so-subtle differences within every other person, whether it's his choice of religion, ideology or even his choice of music. That being said, for a country, a society to function at its full potential there has got to be a sense of belonging, a collective choice of belonging, that is.

In essence, the kind of change that is needed is one that brings up that topic to the debate. In very few words, one that allows us to do some soul searching.

A Much Better Job

2007-07-03T17:19:00.000+09:00

With all due respect to the lord. It would've taken me more time to create this world, but I would've definitely done a much better job.

Alfredo.

An Advice

2007-07-01T00:48:00.000+09:00

My father's last advice before I left home was,

Never trust a man that does not dance, or a woman that does not laugh.

A Haiku for Dams

2007-06-27T02:25:00.000+09:00

Ever since I finished reading Dogs & Demons: The Fall of Modern Japan by Alex Kerr about a month back, the way I see life in Japan has changed a lot. It’s a devastating book that lists up a massive amount of incomprehensible facts about how Japan works, and why it has become the way it is. It covers Japanese society, culture, economy and foreign relations widely enough to include disturbing facts that anyone who is interested in Japan, obviously including non-native Japanese people who live in Japan as well, should have it in their book shelves. The only problem is that it turns the illusion of Japan (supposedly of being a super-modern country parading at the very front in terms of infrastructure, technology, health care and whatnot), into what it really is; a country that faced sever problems after opening its ports to the world a mere 150 years back, booming after the Second World War and halting somewhere between 1970 and 1990, with a government abusing its people, its nature and its hopeful long-term visitors. If you can handle it, buy it, read it, and see Japan in a completely different way. You’re in for some big ass bumps on your way there. Or maybe that should be big ass tetrapods.

I could not have said it better myself.

After the first chapter, this book, with the cruel reality of it, turned from this pain killer to my endless suffering in japan that year, it turned into this scary fact about a country heading to a "concrete" wall of its own making, in the speed of Shinkansen.

Many people want to live the Japan Fantasy, it's hard to tell them that it's never really existed.

2007-06-27T00:26:00.000+09:00

I feel empty.
I feel absolutely hollow and empty.

What is this country, and what are these people.

توفيت رشا ( 14 ) عاماً في منطقة الشيخ مقصود بحلب , إثر تعرضها لعملية تعذيب على يد أبيها , أدت إلى نزوف متعددة في كل أنحاء جسمها , ثم إلى وفاتها .

وكان الأب قد قيد ابنته من قدميها , ثم علقها في " أرض الديار" , وبدأ بضربها بكبل معدني على كل أنحاء جسمها , لمدة تزيد على الساعة , وعندما اشتد نزيف الفتاة , قام بإنزالها وإسعافها إلى المستشفى لتفارق الحياة فور وصولها إليه .

وقبل أن تصل رشا إلى قبرها , كان والدها قد وصل إلى السجن , فقد سلم نفسه لقسم الشرطة مباشرة بعد وفاتها , مدعياً أنه قتلها " بدافع الشرف" .

This is our country. These are our people.

وحول العقوبة المترتبة على هذا الجرم , قال المحامي السيد " إذا أثبت الأب أن هناك علاقة مشبوهة بين الأخ وأخته , فإن الجناية تتحول إلى جنحة , عقوبتها من سنة إلى ثلاث سنوات , أما إذا لم يستطع إثبات ذلك , فالجريمة توصف ب ( إيذاء مفضي إلى الموت ) عقوبته بالحد الأقصى خمس سنوات , تخفف إلى سنتين ونصف

Another Story

2007-06-21T18:42:00.000+09:00

This story, like every other pointless one, starts, sometime in the first month of 2006, when the freezing wind was blowing the trees off the eastern Mediterranean, the fuse burned and the house that was sheltering the 4 lost souls was sacked into the darkness. Darkness? it's more like darkness, with the sound of your blood freezing in your veins.

Ofcourse, the most natural thing, any 19year old group of syrians would think about at 3am, would be, let's go wander on the Corniche [Sea side].

The absurdity of the idea must've made it a fact, who in their right mind would dare go to the corniche in this unearthly freezing weather, nevermind the wind that was probably shaking the earth right and left.

We set off at my place, after rapping ourselves with every jacket/blouse we can find in the house. Armed with our lonely Cybershot back then.

We walked, we walked, and we walked, it's a real distance from my place to the southern seaside... and If we're gonna kill ourselves, we might as well do it with passion.

Tayyeb, enno we got there.

Bas that's it, we got there, we found an empty "7awieh", and just as, we decided that it is worth the feeling, how does it feel inside a 7awieh, I would say pretty damn normal.

One of us found himself a popcorn stand...

Me, I tried to jiggle myself out of..., well, this...

And then, just like any other story would end, we found a place to empty our bladders [Dont worry we were careful where to pee], and walked back home.

It is obviously of no real point to anyone who might read this, but it is, just like a great part of 2005 and early 2006, one of my fondest memories of those people.

It's amazing how this thing friendship works, how funny every stupid, obscene, absurd thing we do looks like. The amount of memories that you can hold to, the amount of firsts. I mean seriously, how the hell am I gonna get to take care of a guy who's balls were literally about to explode, simply because of too much making out without sex. We had to drive him to the hospital to take an emergency shot.

It's amazing how, everytime I happen to talk to one of them on the phone, it feels exactly as if am lying on my bed in that room and just chit-chatting off the boring afternoons...

The Good Times

2007-06-18T00:48:00.000+09:00

I haven't written a word for a long time, June almost passed, and for the second year i don't have the drive to congratulate this blog for its anniversary.

I've been thinking a lot, I've been feasting on what everyone else has been writing, I've been listening to music excessively, and again thinking a lot.

Abu Fares asked me to write about the good times, and I promised myself to do that, or at least to stop writing about the bad times, for a while...

Amongst all the violence surrounding us, all the violence we inflict on others, we inflict on ourselves... Amongst all the beating we serve ourselves for every slip up in life, for every word that might've got out wrong, all the self-consciousness, and my own.
Amongst a lot, a lot of depressions, middle aged men handing you flyers to half naked women that says 70 minutes for ￥25000, the loud voices coming out of everywhere telling you to buy this and buy that, even your teachers yelling that a period always comes after a sentence, never before.

There are these random moments of serenity, or honesty, you can call it happiness.

They never last enough for me to write about them, only enough for me to savor them.

Sitting on a random bench, in a random park, watching random people walk by.

Being able to deliver a thought, without repeating what you say in every possible syntax.

Drowning yourself completely in the world of a book, when you become that Kafka on The Shore.

Dancing the night away, dancing with every part of you, with every drop of sweat.

And, enjoying a cigarette and a cold bear after a long friday, listening to the few voices of people sitting on that one red couch, and watching the bar tender having his usual Jack Daniel's, with Tom Waits' vinyl playing in the background...

There are many things one can think about in these moments, many feelings that will escape you any other day...

And those were the days of roses, poetry and prose
And Martha all I had was you and all you had was me.
There was no tomorrows, we'd packed away our sorrows
And we saved them for a rainy day.

And I remember quiet evenings trembling close to you...

Tom Waits - Martha

The presidential referendum...

2007-05-26T00:31:00.000+09:00

لا

We say No,
Gottfried Stutz!
Yazan
Golaniya

وهناك أشياء كثيرة كان يمكن أن يتحدث عنها المرء...

2007-05-20T17:01:00.000+09:00

When I close my eyes, and see in the back of my head, images of Palestinians fighting against eachother, of a stateless people dragging themselves into a civil war.
No one can describe this utter feeling of helplessness you feel when you see one of the most genuinely painful Human causes, disintegrating.

I go back to Saadallah Wannous, and quote him, "There are many things that one can talk about..."

Since the first time I watched this movie, and until today, everytime I go back to it, or coincidentally catch a scene of that interview, or just get a flash back of the his voice, everytime I think we have reached a bottom... I realize we are still in descent.

Saadallah Wannous' testimony in that movie makes your teeth clinch no matter how many times you've seen it. It's a testimony of half a century of disappointments... thats our legacy, thats what our fathers handed us, and, most probably thats what we will be handing our children...

I uploaded the movie on Rapidshare for everyone who wants to download it...
Part 1,
Part 2,
Part 3,
Part 4.

It is by far, the most impressive work of Omar Amiralay I had a chance to watch.

Passive Agressive State of Mind

2007-05-15T01:53:00.000+09:00

I am living out my own passive aggressive phase of life, admittedly i would've preferred having it sometime other than my prime 20s.

Did I experience anything worth chronicling during these 7 months?

Well, depends, on how u identify experience... I have definitely changed many lanes, I have been in and out of many situations, and had chances to meet brilliant people, and communicate with individuals who have been idols for me throughout my life. I've started a real university life again, I am handling Ghurbeh on my own, I have written many comments and taken part in many debates, I have laughed a few times, I have danced till my legs literally gave up on me many many times, I've thrown up tequila shots many more times than I can remember, I've read some of my favorite literature so far... yet.... I still come back to this futon everynight, and stare at my laptop with expressionless eyes.

How much did all these experiences change me? how much did they push me forward or backwards? not a single inch, I am still at the same place I was at a certain moment 7 months ago. It's like I am frozen in time.

Maybe I should add that to my definition of Frustration.

It's not even that, it's not even that I am frustrated or unhappy, I am just, at this moment, utterly Nothing.

I feel like my own biological clock is slowing down day by day.

This blog has been a mirror of this pathetic state of mind, with the most repetitive, boring and meaningless posts I've ever written. I look back and I realize I haven't written anything worth reading for more than 7 months now.
This blog was, at some point, one of the many faces of me exploring the extremes, in their extremity... It was the place where I wrote the most boring story ever, it was where I cried out my insides time and time again. Now it's just like my insides, just like my GV Roundups, just like my Syria, just like my Absolutes, frozen, with a passive aggressive look on its forehead.

Why am I writing these thoughts?

Because, for the first time in a long while, I felt real pain this week. The kind of pain that paralyzes you, and in the same time electrifies ur brain, it has been a while since I admitted to myself a painful thought.
What happened last week in Syria, brought back so many flashbacks and thoughts, dreams and hopes, so many friends, and so many slogans, so many nights we spent on the streets, walking and laughing, and making plans for our Syria, days that seem so distant now.
Flashbacks of when my vitals mattered, of when I was able to taste food, of when I enjoyed a good meal, of when vodka was not just another alcohol. Of when I wrote passionately about me, about life, about everything, when writing used to fire up bottled emotions, when they'd make all these bubbles explode inside of, with a hysterical cry, laughter, or simple exhaustion, when I used to write about love... of days when I loved with every instinct I had, whether it's a beautiful city or a gorgeous lady, a breathtaking view of the Mediterranean or the taste of freshly baked warm bread at 5am, whether waking up at 4pm and staying in bed until 7pm, or waking up at 6am and watch sleepy Latakia wake up little by little... whether Fairouz, Ziad, Radiohead or just a random MTV show buzzing in the background, I miss the small details I used to fall in love with.

I miss the days when we were allowed to hope for a new Syria. I miss the rush that used to run through me when I walked through the streets of Damascus, not even paying the slightest attention to all the ugliness surrounding me, because it was simply, temporary, my country had a chance to be reborn.

I will go through my passive phase, but who will bring back my home? who will bring back my eternity? and who will bring back Summer 2004 in Latakia, and Summer 2005 in Damascus, and Summer 2006 in Cairo... who will bring back my Syria?

2007-05-10T22:17:00.000+09:00

Labwani, 12 years in jail... and Assad for 7 years in Kassioun.

The verdict was announced as President Bashar al-Assad was addressing the Syrian parliament.
He said Damascus would not co-operate with a UN-backed tribunal to try suspects in the killing of former Lebanese Prime Minister Rafik Hariri if it would undermine Syrian sovereignty.
"The abandonment of sovereignty means that Syrian law no longer protects Syrian citizens," Mr Assad said in the televised address.

Because that's what syrian laws do, they protect their citizens.

2007-05-01T01:25:00.000+09:00

How many people have to die, how many generations have to live in utter humiliation...

حين فرغت من رواية عبد الرحمن منيف الجديدة, أحسست حلقي جافاً, وغمرني شعور ذاهل بالعار. كيف نعيش حياتنا اليومية ونساكن هذا الرعب الذي يتربص بنا هنا... والآن؟ أي صملاخ بليد يحجب عن أسماعنا الصراخ والأنين, كي نواصل نومنا كل ليلة! أي ذاكرة مثقوبة تلك التي تتيح لنا أن نتناسى الآلاف الذين يهترئون في السجون هنا... والآن! هذا عار يكاد يلامس التواطؤ. من خوفنا, وغفلتنا, وصمتنا يغزل الجلاد سياطه. ومن خوفنا, وغفلتنا, وصمتنا تغصّ بنا السجون, تغدو الحياة هنا والآن كابوساَ من الجنون والرعب.
إن رواية عبد الرحمن منيف تمزق الصمت, وتعلن الفضيحة. هذه الأوطان - السجون الفضيحة, وهؤلاء المواطنون - المساجين فضيحة, وهذا التاريخ الشرق أوسطي معتقل يستنقع في الفضيحة. ورغم أن الرواية لا تلاحق هذه الفضيحة بتنوعاتها القطرية, وتعدد مستوياتها, فإنها تتعمد أن تظل قولاً ناقصاً, قولاً لا يكتمل إلا إذا أضاف القارئ عليه موقفاً أو فعلاً.
وبين التعرية والتحريض, وبين النمنمة الفنية والوعي التاريخي, يبني عبد الرحمن منيف رواية -شهادة, لن نستطيع الاستغناء عنها إذا أردنا أن نعرف الــ الآن... وهنا, وإذا أردنا أن نغير الــ هنا... والآن أيضاً.

سعد الله ونوس

You tell Saad Allah Wannous how can we sleep at night? Again and again and again and again and again...

Remembering our bravest

2007-04-30T12:34:00.000+09:00

This is a letter that has been sent from our freedom fighters behind bars in Adra Prison in Damascus...

It has been republished around the blogsphere...

From the Prisoners of Conscience in Damascus Central Prison Al Adra

We are prisoners of conscience and opinion in Damascus Central Prison, lawyer Anwar Al Bunni, writer Michel Kilo, Dr. Kamal Labwani, activists Mahmoud Issa, and Faek Al Mir, and Professor Aref Dalila who could not be reached as he spends his sixth year in solitary confinement. After the sentencing of lawyer Anwar Al Bunni on 24 April 2007, we would like to say thank you and greet our families, friends, and all the people, groups, committees, organizations, associations, parties and political assemblies of Arabs, Kurds and Assyrians in Syria and the Arab world. We thank and greet the official representatives, countries, media and websites that support us by protesting our trials and arrests, and denying the accusations against our colleague Anwar Al Bunni.

We would like to send our heartfelt greetings and thanks to all of you and hope that your noble and brave attitude will not stop only with denying these accusations and supporting our cause. Our case as prisoners of conscience is part of the continuing crisis of basic freedoms and human rights in Syria that began with the Emergency Law 44 years ago. This crisis reached its height in the 1980s and again today by an increase in tyranny, arrests and the suppression of fundamental freedoms.

Tens of thousands of Syrians have paid a horrible price, some with their lives, others with the loss of years and youth from inhumane prison conditions and cruel torture. Still more have suffered by being forced to escape the tyranny or enter into voluntary exile, another difficult experience. Other Syrians stayed, throwing salt on their wounds and binding their tongues to save themselves pain. Those that couldn’t live with their tongues tied faced a future in prison, homeless and alone. For the few people that climbed to the top of the tyranny and darkened Syrian society, they have contributed to the corruption, theft and poverty that have strangled the necks of the people.

The denial of fundamental human rights in Syria is the main case that we work for and your support for prisoners of conscience is part of this fight. Fighting for the release of these prisoners is a duty, not only to decrease their suffering and their families’ pain, but also to encourage others by knowing they are not alone. We must give society hope, making sure its doors and streets are not closed. With the power of hope it is possible to fight the crisis of freedom and human rights in Syria in a peaceful way.

Terrorism is the enemy of mankind and civilization itself. It flourishes in societies that lack freedom and close doors to peaceful expression, leaving violence as a way of expressing oneself. Inside these societies suffering from poverty, where they find no well being on earth they will turn to the heavens and the answers that it may provide them. The lack of basic freedoms and human rights coupled with poverty are two faces of the same coin in the Third World. Syria is at the forefront of totalitarian countries, ruled from an isolated point of view with its citizens either idle passengers or doomed to be labeled traitors

The lack of freedom, means of expression, political participation and accountability leads to the growth of corruption, despotism, looting of public funds, rampant poverty and the collapse of moral values. The real fight against terrorism must not only be about combating extremist ideas. These ideas have existed throughout history, though they will always remain on the periphery, isolated and shunned, unless they find fertile soil to take root and grow. If they are allowed to develop in the soil of society, they will spread like toxic plants, poisoning communities and innocent people.

Addressing the root causes of terrorism requires opening up pathways to free expression and the peaceful exchange of ideas. By giving people unfettered freedom we can blunt the sword of injustice, oppression and domination to grant full political participation, a hand in future decision-making, accountability, the preservation of equality and a life of dignity. This would make the world a safer place and improve international security.

Syrians have paid a high price for their rights and freedom and we hope to be the last group forced to pay this price to help the great Syrian people. To do this we need more than your solidarity and denunciations. We need constant and tireless efforts to compel Syrian authorities to respect human rights, international law and the treaties and agreements it has signed which demand freedom of expression and opinion. The release of political prisoners is a necessary first step, including the abolition of the State Emergency Law and other such laws like Decree 49 signed in 1980 or the Hasakah Accountability Decree of 1962. Syria must abolish the State Security Court, compensate those that have suffered, create an independent judiciary, end torture and hold perpetrators responsible. They must stop political arrests and ensure the freedom of the press, allowing political participation and the formation of parties, organizations and civil society.

They must stop the looting of public funds and policies of impoverishment and domination. However, these steps are just the beginning necessary to put Syria on the path to security and move towards development, progress and the protection of national unity that now suffers from division and tension. These rifts and divisions are now impossible to conceal, despite the dancing and celebrations and empty rhetoric about a healthy society that in reality is sick and suffering. As prisoners of conscience and opinion we are apprehensive about the future of our homeland, our children and our very decision to shape Syria’s future. However, we will not be deterred by threats, intimidation, and the repression of long years of imprisonment that we face to save our country and ourselves

Adra Prison. 28-4-2007

And the Arabic translation, from ME Transparent:

من معتقلي الرأي في سجن دمشق المركزيإننا معتقلو الرأي والضمير في سجن دمشق المركزي /عدرا/، المحامي أنور البني والكاتب ميشيل كيلو والدكتور كمال اللبواني والناشطين محمود عيسى وفائق المير والبروفسور عارف دليلة الذي لم نتمكن من الاتصال به والذي يمضي سنته السادسة في زنزانة منفردة، وبعد الحكم الذي صدر على المحامي أنور البني بتاريخ 24-4-2007، فإننا نود أن نتوجه بالشكر والتحية لعائلاتنا وأهلنا وأصدقائنا وجميع الأشخاص والمجموعات والهيئات والمنظمات والجمعيات والأحزاب والتجمعات السياسية في سوريا من عرب وأكراد وآثوريين وفي البلاد العربية في مختلف أنحاء العالم والممثلين الرسميين والاعتباريين والدول ووسائل الإعلام ومواقع الانترنت وكل الذين تضاموا معنا واحتجوا على اعتقالنا ومحاكمتنا ونددوا واستنكروا الحكم الصادر بحق زميلنا المحامي أنور البني الناشط في مجال حقوق الانسان.

نتوجه بالشكر والتحية لكل فرد منكم من كل قلوبنا ونتمنى أن لا يقف هذا الموقف النبيل والشجاع عند حدود اللحظة والمناسبة والتضامن والاستنكار فقط.

إن قضيتنا كمعتقلي رأي وضمير في سوريا هي جزء واستمرار لأزمة الحريات العامة وحقوق الانسان في سوريا بدأت مع إعلان فرض حالة الطوارئ منذ أربع وأربعين عاما قاسية وشهدت ذروة حادة في الثمانينيات وهاهي تشهد ذروة حادة أخرى بزيادة وتصاعد القمع والاعتقال ومصادرة الحريات

لقد دفع عشرات الألوف من السوريين ثمنا غاليا طوال تلك الفترة فمنهم من قضى نحبه ودفع كل حياته ومنهم من دفع سنوات طويلة من

زهرة عمره وريعان شبابه في ظروف لا إنسانية في السجون والمعتقلات وعانى التعذيب الوحشي ومنهم من هرب من البطش والقمع إلى من الغربة مختارا النفي الطوعي وتجربة قسرية ومعاناة بشكل مختلف وبقية السوريين فرض عليهم الانكفاء إلى ذواتهم ووضع الملح على الجرح والمعاناة والعض على الألسنة هربا من البطش. ومن لم يستطع احتمال زمن القهر الطويل فانفلت عقال لسانه أو عقله كان مصيره السجن أو التنكيل أو التشريد، والقلة القليلة تسلقت قمة القهر والقمع والتسلط التي خيمت على المجتمع السوري فعاثت فسادا ونهبا وإفقارا وتسلطا على رقاب البلاد والعباد.

هذه هي القضية الأساسية التي ينبغي دائم العمل من أجلها. وتضامنكم مع المعتقلين هو جزء من هذا الفعل والعمل لإطلاق سراحهم هو خطوة واجبة ليس فقط من أجل تخفيف معاناة المعتقل وعائلته بل هو ضروري لتشجيع الآخرين وإحساسهم بأنهم ليسوا وحدهم في هذه المعركة ولأجل إعطاء أمل للمجتمع بأن الأبواب ليست مغلقة نهائيا والطريق ليست مسدودة نهائيا وأن هناك قوة أمل حقيقي أن تصل أزمة الحريات وحقوق الانسان في سوريا إلى حل سلمي آمن.

إن الإرهاب عدو البشرية والإنسانية والحضارة الأول، يلقى الدعم والأرض الخصبة في التجمعات التي تعاني أزمة حريات وتغلق أبواب وطرق التعبير السلمي مما يفتح الأبواب لطريق التعبير العنفية والتجمعات التي تعاني من فقر شديد حيث لا يجد الانسان ما يملكه أبدا في الأرض فيسعى تحت تأثير الأفكار المتطرفة الخاطئة إلى ملكيته في السماء وما يوعدون.

إن انعدام الحريات العامة وانتهاك حقوق الإنسان والفقر الشديد وجهان لعملة واحدة في بلدان العالم الثالث وسوريا في مقدمة هذه الدول خاصة وأنها من الدول الشمولية التي تحكمها وجهة النظر الواحدة والرأي الواحد والآخرون مارقون وخونة.فغياب الحريات ووسائل التعبير والمشاركة السياسية والرتابة والمحاسبة يؤدي على نمو الفساد والإفساد والتسلط والإفقار ونهب الأموال العامة ويستشري الفقر وتنهار القيم الأخلاقية والإنسانية.

إن محاربة الإرهاب الحقيقية لا يجب أن يكون هدفها فقط محاربة الأفكار المتطرفة فهذه على أهميتها فإنها موجودة عبر التاريخ ولكنها معزولة ومنبوذة وليست ذات تأثير إذا لم تجد التربة الخصبة لزراعة أفكارها بل يجب أن يتوجه إلى تجفيف هذه التربة التي تتلقى هذه البذور لتحويلها إلى نباتات سامة تجتاح مساحات أوسع فأوسع من المجتمعات وتنقلب على أفكار إجرامية تطال الأبرياء والمجتمع ككل. إن معالجة أسباب الإرهاب يتطلب فتح أبواب وطرق التعبير السلمية وتبادل الآراء وإعطاء الشعوب حريتها المسلوبة منها ورفع سيف الظلم والقهر والتسلط عنها ومنحها حق المشاركة السياسية الكاملة برسم مستقبلها وصنع القرار وصنع القرار والقرابة والمحاسبة وحفظ حقها بالمساواة والعيش الكريم. وهذه مسؤولية دولية عامة لأن الأمن أصبح في العالم أمنا واحدا.

إن الشعب السوري دفع أثمان غالية للحصول على حقوقه وحرياته ونأمل أن نكون نحن آخر دفعة من هذا الثمن الغالي والكبير الذي يستحق الشعب السوري بعده أن يسترد حقوقه وحريته.إننا نحتاج إلى أكثر من تضامنكم واستنكاركم. إننا نحتاج إلى عملكم المستمر والدؤوب لإلزام السلطات السورية باحترام حقوق الانسان والقوانين والاتفاقيات الدولية التي التزمت بها وتطبيقها فعلا وإطلاق حرية التعبير والرأي والعمل السياسي ولعل إطلاق سراح المعتقلين السياسيين هو الخطوة الأولى الضرورية لذلك.بالإضافة إلى إلغاء حالة الطوارئ والقوانين الاستثنائية وعلى رأسها المرسوم 49 لعام 1980 ومرسوم الإحصاء الاستثنائي في محافظة الحسكة عام 1962 والمحاكم الاستثنائية وفي مقدمتها محكمة أمن الدولة والمحاكم الميدانية وإلغاء أحكامها والتعويض على المتضررين منه وإعطاء القضاء استقلاله الكامل ووقف ومنع التعذيب ومحاسبة مرتكبيه وإلغاء الاعتقال السياسي وإطلاق حرية الصحافة والإعلام والسماح بالمشاركة السياسية وتشكيل الأحزاب والمنظمات وجمعيات المجتمع المدني خارج الوصاية الرسمية ووقف نهب المال العام وسياسة الإفقار والتسلط والهيمنة.

إن هذه الخطوات تشكل فقط البداية الضرورية لوضع سوريا على سكة الأمان وبالاتجاه الصحيح للتطور والتقدم وتحمي الوحدة الوطنية التي تعاني من الشروخ والانقسامات والأزمات والاحتقانات التي تعصف بها ولم يعد ممكنا إخفائها بالأهازيج والمهرجانات والدبكات والتصاريح الجوفاء الفارغة حول صحة المجتمع الذي يعاني أمراض عدة شديدة .

إننا كمعتقلي رأي وضمير خائفون على مستقبل الوطن الذي نتمسك به وعلى مستقبل أطفالنا ومن حقنا المشاركة بصنع هذا المستقبل ولولا إبداء رأينا ولن نأل جهدا من أجل تحقيق مستقبل أفضل لهذا الوطن ولن يرهقنا التهديد والوعيد والقمع والقهر لا سنوات السجن الطويلة عن الاستمرار بما آمنا به وندرنا نفسنا له

سجن عدرا 28-4-2007

A quick note of democracy...

2007-04-24T22:55:00.000+09:00

Anwar al-Bunni sentenced to 5 years in prison for "endangering internal security"...

Shame on every one of those who will step into the parliament next week...

3eed al-Jala2

2007-04-17T22:36:00.000+09:00

April 17th. National Independence Day.

The last French forces depart from Syria in 1946 and President Shukri al-Quwatli declares Syria independent from the French Mandate. Quwatli makes the day the national “Independence Day” of Syria, formally ending 26-years of the French Mandate. The first celebration of independence was marked with grand festivities all throughout Syria. At 9:300 am on April 17, 1946, a 21-gun salute was fired from all the castles surrounding Damascus, indicating that the last French troops had formally evacuated. Before the thousands that assembled in front of government headquarters in the Marjeh Square, President Quwatli appeared with Arab officials and Syrian nationalists who came to celebrate Syria’s Independence Day. By his side was former President Hashim al-Atasi, who had led the nationalist movement during the years of the Mandate, and ruled Syria in 1936-1939. The first secretary-general of the Arab League, Abdul Rahman Azzam Pasha, was also present, and so was Lebanese Prime Minister Sami al-Sulh, Saudi Foreign Minister Prince Faysal (later king) Ibn Abdul-Aziz, and King Farouk’s special envoy Abdul-Latif Talaat Pasha. The long awaited Syrian Army paraded through the streets of Damascus, and was accompanied by troops from the Lebanese, Egyptian, Saudi Arabian, and Iraqi armies. Following the Syrian Army came the Syrian Boy Scouts, then the Maysaloun Troops, carrying a huge portrait of General Yusuf al-Azma, the Minister of War who had died while fighting the French when they entered Damascus in 1920. Representatives of every Syrian city came to Quwatli and presented him with a small silk sack containing the soil of every Syrian province, telling him that he was the leader of all of Syria and not only Damascus. Quwatli led the procession to Maysaloun, the site where Yusuf al-Azma had been killed in 1920. Collectively, they commemorated him as the first Syrian official to fall while fighting the French Army.

Source: Syrian History.

مزاج...

2007-04-12T19:59:00.000+09:00

بغيبتك نزل الشتي, قومي اطلعي عالبال
في فوق سجادة الصلاة, واللي عم بيصلوا قلال
صوتن متل مصر المرا, ويعليك الرجال
عا كتر ما طلع العشب بيناتنا بيرعى الغزال

وديت مع راعي حمام, يشفلي الطقس شمال
قلي السنة جايي هوا, بيوقع الخيال
يا ريت لا سرجت الفرس, ولا بعتت هالمرسال

مرسيل خليفة - قومي اطلعي عاليال
شعر... طلال حيدر

powered by ODEO

وقمح

2007-04-09T09:46:00.000+09:00

Too many stuff to put in one post, but it is here anyway.. I'm just gonna write and post when i get my internet.

-----------

So, what has been happening in the last few weeks...

I would only describe it in the amount of confusion mounting up inside of me.

There are so many people that I wanna write about right now, so many pages have been written and flipped over with the new spring.

So many obsessions, so many small papers I've kept in a safe place, and so many more memories of everyone, of May, of Zeid, of Maad, of Alisa, Tamara, Farhad, Tanya, Laura, My teacher who came to me and toast me a glass of wine on my graduation... all the way through the many airports I dragged myself through, all of them saw me both, hopeful and depressed, from tokyo to seoul to cairo to moscow to damascus... and back to tokyo, all the hours I've spent in Keio trains and Tokyo metro, Roppongi Hills, Shibuya a place in which I fell in love with, of the first dawn of 2007 on the Latakia cool seaside...

Just like how the sakura explodes in ur eyes once u look at it, Nature, God recreates the world again in these 7 days of sakura, and you can see it, and you can sit there and let your heart skip a beat, two, three beats... the way it renders the smooth sun rays into your eyes leaves you in the confusion between reality and all the pictures flashing in your mind, all these people you have had to say goodbye to, the sweet laughter coming from a person walking next to you, the glorious feeling of intimidation towards the brush strokes of a Da Vinci original masterpiece, the smell of the ground, the rain drops, the sounds of the train driver telling you to stand behind the yellow line, and the laziness in ur steps walking down from tobitakyu station to your dorm at 7am on a saturday morning... the amount of knowledge, pure knowledge, pure happiness, pure sadness, nostalgia, ache and laughter, that one year can hold... The same confusion that you felt staring from the campus cirlce to the sakura trees one spring ago... only with a lot more of everything, and a lot more to come.

Nagoya, I fell in love with this city the first day, maybe because I had already decided to, or maybe just because it is beatiful...
Nothing so special about it, no huge crossings, few impressive skyscrapers, nothing too fancy, except a laughter that you can see everywhere, people laugh here, people chat on the train, they gesture with their hands and talk to you, they use different voice tones, and frown when they dont like something, they talk to you in bars, on a bench waiting for ur turn at a bank, in trains and shops...

They say Good Morning in the elevator.

the beauty of having the whole world close to your fingertips, the taste of Azerbaijani wine and the sound of a Georgian laughter, the way "Californians" believe in Google as the new god [Admit it Alisa, you do], The sound of a hourse-cart strolling through a Cairo cool summer night, and the taste of Syrian well made Bamieh in the midst of an afternoon Nagoya...

I understand just now why it is such a magical thing for the japanese, I realize how beautiful it is to have only beginings... To begin a new year, but never end one...

------------

When you look back at your life, how will you decide that u have led a good one...?
I said, among other stuff, When I think of an old love, I wanna be able to smile in nostalgia and still enjoy the memory.

I still dont understand the simple ways in which i function.

------------

I listened to an old conversation about pain, qouting Jubran from the prophet... As much as pain carves down ur spirit, it creates space to contain joy... its easy to romanticize this, i do. But she'd say, "I dont want this pain, this joy is not mine anyway..."

I know nothing about pain.

I've read about it, I've romanticized it, I sympathized with people in pain, I might've helped some at some point... but I've never really experienced pain, I always crack down even before I get to the point where pain is.

"There is no such point where you stop feeling pain, it will always be more painful each second... there is no threshold...", 3ammo Hassan. someone who had to go through "pain" for years in mukhabarat basements...

How do you ease people's pain when you know nothing about it. you simply can't.

------------

I'm more and more growing into another George Costanza, I need to figure out what my instinct is telling me about anything, and then, go the exact opposite way. It might make life much easier for me, and for those around.
90% of the decisions that I had made conciously throughout those last 2 years have come back to haunt me one way or the other...

Now, I'm stuck in a whole new city, in an apartment that I have to leave within the month, with the cost of moving into a new apartment exceeding $2000 that we both have $400 out of it, a dorm is not a possibility [one of those decisions that come back to haunt me] I have just subscribed to the phone and internet that I have to move yet again to my new place. And yet, I have another guy stuck in the same shit, because of what my stupid instinct have told me.

and now I have to chose my electives for this year, I am seriously considering chosing the things that I would never usually think of, because according to the new "Theory" it would be the right thing to do...

Personally, it's a whole different story... it's a life of deliberatly chosing the wrong thing to say over anything else... I've hit my head against so many different walls, so many different times because of the level of idiocy this theory works through...
I was just checking some old conversations with May, and the whole time, I was in somekind state of sarcastic disbelief of what i have taken myself to write there...

maybe its a disease... what do u say?

------------

That being said,
Waking up in the early morning to go to kyoto, stealing ur roommate's iPod and and taking a walk to chikusa station at 7am with Fairouz drawing the widest smile on ur face, saying goodmorning to the smiling faces staring at you... is still a genuine happy moment...

I am still alright.

------------

وقمح

al-3alam ekhwat sharmota, ya 7akeem

2007-04-04T00:51:00.000+09:00

I still dont have internet, probably on friday with more updates on Sakura and Nagoya... but for nowm I just need to scream my heart out...

Why the fuck is it that always the third question I get from Syrians [after whats ur name, and where are u from] is, *Men wen ballah, men al-lad2ieh nafsa walla men al-reef?*

3ala 2olet ziad,
al-3alam ekhwat sharmota, ya 7akeem

Ziqaq al-Medaq = Medaq Alley?

2007-03-26T04:55:00.000+09:00

My early childhood was quite shattered between my Grandpa's house in Latakia, and Grandpa's house in Homs, and Dad's Bierut tiny flat.
The one thing that they all had in common was a vast library of books, Arabic books in particular.

Even, when we moved to our own place in Latakia, the only thing that dad carried with him along that walk through the Lebanese-Syrian borders, was a book [And it was worth it, it is still one of my favorite books, Sadeq Jalal al-Azm's The Mental Taboo].

I read most of Jubran's works when I was 12, and although I know I did not grasp most of it, but it made such an impact on my life ahead...

I only started to learn English in school, in 4th grade, in the Private school of Karmelite, for one year, and then I went back to a public school...

Even though my English is far from perfect, but it's the one language that I am most comfortable writing myself. And I definitely owe that in the bigger part to Duck Tales, Gummie Bears, and the rest of the world of Disney that Future TV used to broadcast everyday at 5pm...

Having said that, When I hold a book to read, having it in Arabic still sends a warm feeling inside of me, being able to read the amazing feats of people like Abdulrahman Muneef, or Najeeb Mahfouz in their original words, that no translation will ever be able to explain, sends a beautiful feeling through me...

What translation is that, that can capture the word Mahfouz's Ziqaq in Ziqaq al-Medaq, and transform it into Alley... It's a gift that when I read the word Ziqaq, I can get the real feeling of a Zeqaq...

But, Lately, I've had some kind of a cultural shock, if u can call it that, to see so many people who prefer to read Najib Mahfouz in English rather their mother tongue.

most of them are people who are way more smarter than I am, and can by far appreciate the delicacy of the Arabic language more than me...

Makes you wonder...

reflections

2007-03-14T23:06:00.000+09:00

Love, my self-adorned Humanity, and me, were in every book that I had to read lately. In every scene of a movie I saw. In every conversation with people that I like, even with those i dont.

And when I reflect back on them, on Orwell's 1984 or Dogsville, or just the simple feeling of unease around people who I denounced as Hypocrites. Even more, in the feeling of betrayal I somehow felt from within myself.

It only results in a session of self loathing, maybe some good lashing, and self spanking. Things that when I look infront of a mirror or sit on bed and raise my legs on the wall, look at me from above, seem such a pathetic cry for attention, or for my teacher to tell me that I'm good at math. Ironically, very typical.

Who's to say that I wouldnt do what Dogsville people did. Who's to say that it'd make any difference if I didnt. or If I'd respond differently to someone trying to inflict that on me.
Who's to say why I write this on this blog. Who's to say why u come here and read it.

Even now when I am trying to spill out my disgust at my own inability to understand myself, to reassure myself, disgust at the irony, that I could spend a whole night talking to someone about humanity, and then come back to my bed and feel this utter loneliness.

Who's to say which is worse, the hangman or the victim that forgives him. And who's to say which one you are, at any given moment in time.

What if evil disappears? What if suffering seizes to exist? isnt that in a way just shrinking the colors of life... how is it enriching to Humanity in anyway? to lose one of our feelings? isnt it just like the destruction of language in Orwell's 1984?

And, finally, How cruel is it to ask such a question?

It probably is nothing more than the hallucinations of someone trying to make his own trivial sufferings "noble" or maybe "intellectual"...

At times,

2007-03-13T05:21:00.000+09:00

...when melancholy enclaves me so deeply that I can feel my insides shrinking, when I feel it going down from my brain, I feel it in my eyes, I feel it in the 3'assa in my throat...

The only thing I can do, is to put a stream of photos, songs, memories or dreams and just watch me breakdown, exhaust my pain, exhaust my melancholy, blow it up inside of me, then rest down in pieces, in ashes... and sleep.

I'm leaving again, I'm leaving this room, cell, hell... and I'm leaving such a huge part of me in it, one that I thought so beautiful. I'm leaving memories, again.
I'm leaving people, half-way, people who in any other circumstance might've been best friends for a long time... unfortunately, I dont have that luxury.

Farewell Tokyo, I know it wasnt ur fault, its never easy to belong for a complexed me.

Save Old Damascus...

2007-03-09T18:22:00.000+09:00

Scan from Tharwa Community: Whereto, Syria?

The heart of the oldest city in the world is being destroyed little by little, without anyone raising a finger...

What the hell is wrong with these people?

Changing career...

2007-03-01T15:12:00.001+09:00

I just recieved,

A Phone Bill for 5万　(=$500), cuz apparently when they say Internet 使いほだい　in ur contract, they really only mean, WAP!

A repair bill for my VAIO for 35万 (=$350), cuz apparently the concept of Full Warranty is different with Sony.

Now, if you`ll excuse me, I need to go find myself a corner in Roppongi and try my luck as a Male Whore... unless I wanna spend the next couple of months sleeping on the Nagoya streets.

Fuck!

Syrian Bloggers: Free Kareem

2007-02-27T10:23:00.000+09:00

We, as a community of Syrian bloggers, condemn the arrest and sentencing of Egyptian blogger Abdel Kareem Nabil Soliman for the peaceful expression of his dissenting views. We ask the Egyptian government to reconsider its decision to arrest and prosecute Abdel Kareem. The stated reasons for their action include the preservation of the public peace and state security, and the prevention of incitement against Islam. We contend that his arrest will achieve neither. Silencing such dissenting voices as Abdel Kareem’s, serves only to strengthen the hands of extremists who will not shy away from violence to achieve their goals. Moreover, we remind the Egyptian government that his arrest and prosecution violates at least two articles (see below) of the 1948 United Nations universal declaration of human rights to which Egypt was a signatory.

Relevant United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights articles:

Article 18. Everyone has the right to freedom of thought, conscience and religion; this right includes freedom to change his religion or belief, and freedom, either alone or in community with others and in public or private, to manifest his religion or belief in teaching, practice, worship and observance.

Article 19. Everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression; this right includes freedom to hold opinions without interference and to seek, receive and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers.
Such rights for freedom of expression are also enshrined in the 1990 Cairo Declaration on Human Rights in Islam and the 2003 Universal Declaration of Human Rights by the World's religions.

Signed by,

Yazan
Sasa
Omar
Ammar
Philip I
Syrian in London

Februray, Last Year

2007-02-20T16:35:00.000+09:00

Jaiboul - 2006, Haitham's

It was cold, and beautiful...

One of the reasons I dont blog much about Japan

2007-02-14T22:07:00.000+09:00

Is what my friend Alisa puts out so bluntly here...

I will not say that Japanese are racist, but, I can definitely say with confidence that a huge number of them are...

You see, we "gaijin" or "mukonohito" = the people from far, will never have the pure genes of the superior japanese...

we've gotten used to being eyed in the train, or people leaving their seats when u sit, or not talking to u when u need to ask for direction, or... or...

read the post... it's kind of like "fashet khele2" but, the problem goes way much deeper inside...

I'm feeling better now, much better.
In Japan you have to get over things quickly.
They have a saying that means "there's no way around it"- shou ga nai.
They say it often, too often. They use it as a blanket to cover all kinds of sins, corruption, and laziness. But the culture of shou ga nai is infectious, a carte blanche for every inaction.
But, take my example. When I was searching for apartments I got rejected from four different places, sight unseen, because I was a foreigner. The first time, I was really hurt and stunned. The second time, I was angry. The third time I was annoyed, and the fourth time, I was numb to it. Shou ga nai.
This is how it happened. I was sitting in a sunny realtor's office, flipping through a gigantic binder of apartments in an area I wanted to live in. When I found one of a decent size for a good price, I would tell the kid who was helping me, and he would call the other realtor's office. They would say if the apartment was still available, why it was so cheap, and when it would be available for a viewing. If everything seemed OK, my agent would go into his speech:
"Now there is just one thing, my client is a foreigner. She's a girl, she's American, she works for a Japanese company, she has two guarantors, the president of her company, and another friend, who is Japanese. Is that OK?"
Then there would be a pause, and sometimes he would say "yes, she speaks Japanese...Thats OK? Alright thank you."
I got so used to the eventual OK that I was beginning to think that the whole process was just a formality. It wasn't.
Eventually I asked about a place in the area and the guy went through his lines. Then the pause.
"Oh. Oh. Oh I see. Well, thanks anyway."
I watched his face as he put down the phone, and I could see the poor kid was trying to work out how to break the news to me. "Well, apparently they don't rent to foreigners. They've asked the landlord before, and they've always said no"
He watched my face as I took the news. I didn't say anything, I just smiled and blinked. What could I say? I wasn't surprised, and although I was angry, who could I be angry with? It wasn't the fault of this kid in front of me, nor the decision of his manager. I couldn't blame the voice on the other end of the phone, and the landlord, three degrees of separation away from me, was probably some crotchety old lady who didn't like anybody and was afraid of everything.
After a few minutes, he said. "daijoubu desuka?" I looked at him and smiled too big. "Hai."
The next day my coworker tried to explain it to me, "Well, you know, the landlords, they don't like renting to gaijin because they don't know their habits."
I threw down my chopsticks and gave him the most dangerous look I've given anyone in a while. I was sitting in a basement restaurant, eating raw egg and grated yam over rice. No one had any right to say anything to me about my "habits". He didn't notice my look though. He continued, "What? They don't know what they will do to the room? Desho?"
No. Not "desho". This is what I wanted to say, but what I couldn't say:
"Don't justify their RACISM to me!!"
That's right people, I said RACISM.. about JAPAN!!! Not xenophobia, or protectionism, or isolationism, or any of the politer words that Japan, as a world power, seems to be entitled to.
I can't go into all the reasons why Japan systematically and unrepentingly gets away with racism. It has to do with their massive foreign PR mechanisms, their houdini-like ability to pretend problems aren't there when they are, and the magical timing of the MOJ, which swoops in with symbolic reforms just as people were starting to make a big to-do about some injustice.
But mostly, mostly, it has to do with the fact that foreigners like myself, white, privileged, educated foreigners, are generally treated very, very well here. They love my English, they love my skin, and they love me when I can use their chopsticks and eat my food. Sure they may never accept me, they may never offer me a real job and they may get huffy when I refuse to leave after three years or so, but when I complain about those things, people just scoff and tell me to get over it. Of course, every once in a while, the deep seated racism that lives in this country blindsides me in a way that ruins my week and makes me angry. But because I can't complain about the general way my life is going, I forget about it that too. In a few days I feel better, and I let it go.
The people who lose in this situation are the Chinese, Korean, Southeast Asian, and Middle Eastern residents, immigrants, and temporary workers. They don't get well compensated for their jobs; nearly no one finds them "cute" or "kakkoi". They don't have time to write letters to their prefectural government, or write blogs about racial equality in a supposedly homogeneous and traditionally isolated country.
The racism, the widespread, institutionalized, and accepted racism in this country needs to stop. And not because Japan will need to open its borders as their workforce decreases, and not because they signed some pact with the UN. Just because its wrong, and because its wrong anywhere.
Yeah, I know my life isn't in danger, and in other places there are genocides and riots and violence over race. And I know America has far more race- related problems than Japan. But at least in America we can talk about it. We have shows like Chappelle's show, which actually brought some complicated racial dynamics to the forefront. We can major in Ethnic studies, and we can talk about the psychological impact of transracial adoption. (right lisa?). But because everyone thinks that Japan is a magical land of cherry blossoms and lollipops, where the trains run on time and everyone is polite, nothing ever gets discussed. And therefore nothing ever changes.
For anyone needing some final proof about the extent of the problem, check out the review of a magazine that was released and sold in Family Mart, a huge convenience store chain. It is a sensationalistic, fear mongering chronical of evil foreigners and the crime wave they are inflicting on Japan. Check out the evil, slanty-eyed Chinese, whose inferior DNA makes them predisposed to be violent. And how about that terrorist in the background? This magazine was published with cooperation from the national police force, making it in part a government concoction. Imagine if a magazine like this was sold in a 7-11 in America. Just imagine it.

play

2007-02-13T18:29:00.000+09:00

1970: Japan's GDP per Capita = 6 * Syria's GDP per Capita

fast forward,

2005: Japan's GDP per Capita = 26 * Syria's GDP per Capita

stop.

考え方が悪いよ。

2007-02-06T02:47:00.000+09:00

I need to reprogram me. period.

It's just not working. It's not... Me has totally stopped functioning.

I dont remember when was the last time that i had a real sense of accomplishment, for something that I honestly worked hard for... If I wanted to be honest with myself I'd say, Bakaloria...

I donno for how long I'm gonna get these free passes that are still moving me up the ladder. And I'm just so fucking frightened to my bones from that moment where I, just simply, Fall flat.

I need to start functioning again. Clean my head, clean my soul, clean this fucking room.

I'm an Atheist Moslem

2007-02-02T18:25:00.000+09:00

I'm an atheist; I don't believe in God, I don't believe in his existence in any materialistic or spiritual way. Yet, I acknowledge the probability of his existence. My belief is my own personal opinion about those 2 probabilities.

I believe in the big boom, and I believe that we don't know a lot of stuff, but that doesn't "necessarily" mean that it's supernatural. It might, It might not. I feel [through experience, life, readings, and way of thinking, as ME] more for the "Might not" option. Very simple.

I believe in trial and error, I believe in proofs. I don't believe in Myths. Although i enjoy reading them, immensely. I enjoyed reading the bible, just as I enjoyed reading Greek and Nordic mythology.

I believe that, even in case God turned out to be a real thing, in any of the old, or new forms, whether the Sun was God, or whether Jesus was the son of God, or whether God was merely light... No God has the right to question my decision to stay honest to what I feel inside, and what I sense outside... and that is exactly what I'm doing.

Yet,
I, too, consider myself Moslem. I was born to a Moslem family [My Grandfather, his father, his grandfather... were very important religious figures in their sect, although my father turned Marxist, that doesn't change the fact that everyone else in the family is deeply religious], I've lived in a country with an overwhelming majority of Moslems, albeit, most are moderate, but still.. I practiced a lot of the social traditions, I celebrate Eid, I enjoy the culture, I enjoy reading Quran, I enjoy the History, I feel proud to belong to such history. I enjoy a lot of the traditions.

I know very well that I've read about Islamic History more than half of whom they claim themselves as the "Protectors" of this religion.

I am a member of this civilization. I am a member of this culture, I'm not a member of this religion [Islam], but no one, has the right to say I'm not a Moslem. because, Islam, is also a cultural identity.

The Islamic Civilization at its Height, was not only made by Moslems... there were Christians, Jews, Atheists... two of my favorite poets, and probably of the most famous Arab poets in history, are Abu Nawas and Abu al-'Ala' al-Ma'arry. Who are well known Atheists... in the modern sense of the word.

So, yes, I am proud of belonging to this culture, a culture that reached its height by opening up to all currents of thinking.

I might understand, why a Japanese person, with his own mindset, and his stereotypes might not understand that.

But, why is it so hard for us?

An Identity Crisis, or rather Identity of Crisis

2007-01-24T19:09:00.000+09:00

Everytime I talk about our identity crisis, as Middle Easterns, Levantines, Arabs, or particularly Syrians, everytime I tell them about all the psychological burden that we carry around excellently -The one we call our History- to almost, everyone... I get a look, of, understanding, they understand "me", but, behind that, I see a thousand question marks, of, irrelevance. and I don't blame them, they might never understand that, unless they are fortunate enough -or unfortunate for that matter- to actually live in that hub, The Middle East.

How, can u present the full depth, of a personality, an Identity shaped with an extreme feeling of superiority, the feeling of superiority we've been fed, by the monuments, by the streets, books, sights and smells… by the sheer names of our cities.

A superiority, that soon begins a never-ending fight with another complex. A complex of inferiority, towards a winner West a brutally developed and civilized West.

I don't understand it neither, I can just feel it, I try to put it to words… I try to explain the power of symbolism in area that has nothing left but symbols anymore. The wealth, the philosophy, the greatness, the pride… they're all long gone… what's left, is us, the people, who will still cling on to life, they all have all these things inside [as any other human, for that matter…], at least I hope we still do… and monuments, ruins, memoirs, of a past… What's also left? The bitter truth, that we might never catch up, the bitter feeling of humiliation, of victimization, of being stepped on every single day, by our fathers, our policemen, our presidents, and everybody else…

I try to write, about the Crusades, How they still live inside every Levantine, how u can see them in the family names of people. The Crusades, probably were the absolute turning point, where we went down, towards a West that ascended on a way up… the absolute feeling of victimization that we've felt since then… towards those barbaric, monsters of darkness and witch hunting, who disrupted the wealthy, sophisticated, civilization of ours… and, drove it… here.

It goes way beyond that, further than that. It's way before Muhammad [PBUH], before we even discovered that the poems of "Omro' al-Kais" are masterpieces. Before that, even before, Princess Europe of Phoenicia sailed from Byblos, to give Europe its name… before that…

When I write about, my Human Identity, when I write about my Syrian Identity, when I write about me, the sum of all these little things, what I eat, what I write, what I do, who am I… where did I grow up, and where am living… when I try to un-define myself, rather than define it with a single identity… I'm only trying to loosen up, this burden, this history. But the only way I can ever seem to do that, is through that very same history.

This Middle East needs people who are willing to forsake an unbeaten vicious circle. Willing to put off our complexes, to read the History, as a book… as a text book that is. And even more, He needs Faith in these people… all the faith that we've given to all the gods who were born here, to all of them who passed and stayed here…

I, for one, have not yet been able to. Not Yet, that is.

Another kind of love affairs...

2007-01-21T01:07:00.000+09:00

It's amazing when something u've been practicing/feeling for the whole of ur life gets manifested in a very simple form, very few, definitive words. like, I'm obsessed with Symmetry.

Simple and plain, yet, it took me more than 20 years, and flights back and forth to as far as Tokyo, to discover it, in an empty train from Chofu-station to Tobitakyu-station.

I'm obsessed with symmetry, lines, things... it makes me happy to see parallel lines of anything... parallel lines of hand holders in a train... or just a symmetric line of trees.

When I read a web page, a consensual reflex is to double click the word exactly in the middle of the line am reading... so that it gets highlighted.

When I read a book, half an eye is always looking for the word that makes a perfect symmetry in the line...

It was as if i had just re-discovered fire.. as silly and unimportant it may seem... it was one of the few discoveries about myself lately that didn't depress me, but rather cheered me up.

Highlights from Syria

2007-01-13T18:04:00.000+09:00

I laughed,
I loved,
I sighed,

And I did each of these like I've never before.

No highlights. I found out that I can't express myself with things that overwhelm me.

And It Begins, Again...

2007-01-11T21:05:00.000+09:00

I still need to gather up my thoughts about the last 3 weeks...

A lot has happened for 3 weeks.

When you realize the importance of something, or someone, you'll try to get the best out of every second you can get. And you'll feel it going through your blood just like caffeine or drugs... and you'll enjoy it... It happened in Egypt last summer... and again in Syria this winter...

I had some of my most endearing moments this winter.

You can check the photos on my flickr [if u havent noticed the HUGE link in the sidebar yet... then click HERE]...

This Movie, speaks for itself... I owe so much, to so many people.

Take 1: Bad Director...

Take 2: Ouch, that DID hurt...

Take 3: There it is...

Leaving again...

2007-01-05T09:23:00.000+09:00

It's always hard to leave the car at 5.30am when the ride is over,
It's always hard to accept a bad ending to a good movie,
It's always hard to let go of the moment, and not hold on to the future,
It's always hard to accept an end to a love story,
It's always hard to accept that us can fall, even momentarily,
It's always hard to let go of a dream, to watch it tear you apart,
It's always hard to skip a ripped off page in a book you learned to love,

It's so much easier to feel love, when it had already stormed you away.

I'm a very impulsive person, and for that, I owe my apologies.

I'm not disappointed. Never.
I'm just sad.

Eventually, life breaks down into the very primal feelings...

Fever

2006-12-27T09:13:00.000+09:00

I
A glass of water:No:Grandizer:Sedrieh:Wish:Heat:Sweat:Glass of Water:No:A pause, and We've changed. What will happen next, we really don’t know: Ballpens:I'm A Golden Medalist, you see:Titanic:Come back:No:Who?:No:Agagok:No:Flags:Flags:Flags:South Africa:A Glass of Water:No:You:No:Nestle:Aleppo:Beirut:No:A little Kid with his grandpa:A little kid lost by the sea:A little kid having his first kiss:Get Up:I:Get Up:God:Shu?......Blank…..1985.

What?
I've been in bed for 3 days now, extreme fever and flu. Yesterday, sometime before dawn. I know I started to hallucinate, or at least was half unconscious. Sweating, with piles of sheets on me. I was talking to myself, or thinking to myself, I really don’t know, there was this whole different vivid part of me that was pushing me to get up, to wake up, or get the cam, or the computer, or shake my head, but I was totally paralyzed. And I was almost crying cuz I couldn’t lift a finger.

A very surreal night, the total helplessness was Scary.
Very, very, very, few pulses that ran through my brain that night are those that I still remember. These are them in total disorder.

I'm Home

2006-12-18T13:43:00.000+09:00

I donno when this might be posted.
I'm in a plane, Aeroflot, Russian Airlines. Or let's say Fucked-up Airlines. But that’s a whole different issue.
I'm in a plane, I donno what time it is exactly in this part of the world we're flying over, it's almost 3pm or something in Moscow, we still have 3:30h of flying, adding up to 10h in air, and 1h delay on ground. I Hate Russian Airlines, the stewardess actually yells at u here. And theres a guy eyeing m because I'm apparently annoying him with my typing on the computer. There's no power plug so the pc will go dead on me in 30mins.
We're flying over Siberia apparently.
Was reading Murakami's Kafka on the Shore. Pretty interesting start. I have lots of things to read. I have to read the Life of Pi, The Great Gatsby [Again, since I don’t think I grasped it the first time], Body Language, finish Dogs and Demons… etc.
So I'm here, god known how many kilometers above earth, what am I thinking of? What could I be thinking of?
I miss her.

Listening to Radiohead telling me to sail to the moon… I'm in this ultra-high state of sensitivity, to any word, look, touch… I'm afraid to type here things that I don’t want out, because I promised myself to post everything I type here.

Looking back on Tokyo, now that my days there are coming to close. Is it really Tokyo's fault? Does it have to be someone, or something's fault that I'm fucked up?

The last 2 months was one long ongoing moment of bitterness. Don’t get me wrong. I was not crucified. Even, dare I say? I don’t even think I've learnt anything from these months, which is very sad. Very sad.

Why?
Is there a goddamn meaning. Why, is it that all the people I look up to, all the people that I care about, all the people that intrigue on the intellectual level, have this mysterious belief in the absolute purpose of life. And why is it that I don’t. at least not yet. It's amazing. How un-true such an argument sounds to me… maybe it's just the way they try to prove it. Maybe I'm too stupid to realize it, or even – and this one is actually very try – Maybe, I'm just less divine to actually feel it.

The brainstorming, of Whys, and Hows, and I don’t Care(s) that I went through these last 2 months, was overwhelming. That I had to just let go of all my unfinished speculations, analysis, theories, novels, and realities at the very first chance I had. I just let go, went blank, drunk myself until I passed out, danced until I passed out.

Dancing. Anthony Quinn said something so real, and so painful – for me, at least - in Zorba the Greek, he said that Dance is the way a free spirit speaks for itself, he who can not dance has a locked down spirit, probably it explains what I wrote earlier. I can never seem to be able to comfortably dance my soul out until after the 4rth beer or shot. And sometimes I drink just to be able to, just to feel what he's talking about. But it cuts through, when I do.

I'm listening to this beautiful piece of music now, I got to meet old reggae through Dan, a Canadian friend in my dorm. Hugh Mundell, singing "Africa Must Be Free By The Year 1983"… beautiful dubs. Beautiful…

And there's this girl infront of me that looks exactly like Anna, my cousin. She's so Russian… and she only speaks Russian and Japanese. We tried communicating, but it was painful for both of our poor Japanese vocabulary, so we just gave up with a very friendly handshake.

Again, I have not been fair to Tokyo, but I'm not in the mood to anyway. I will have to mention though, that I had one of the most beautiful moments over there alone above the world in Tokyo Tower, looking down, looking up looking inside of me… It was a much needed moment of peace, that I will be very grateful for it for a long time… Thank you, Tokyo.

I'm so much at peace with my flaws at this particular moment, it's amazing, u can not believe how much I love me, and consequently everyone around in this lousy Aeroflot Boeing flight from Tokyo to Moscow. I love them… I love me, I'm writing with such a joy, with a sense of liberation… maybe the fact that I'm gonna be in Latakia within hours, but I donno… it's much more complicated than that.

The fact that I admitted to myself that I had lost a battle, but not given up. The fact that I'm going back there, to kick and scream and fight again, fight against Me, fight against whatever I feel fighting… and live. The fact that I'm gonna be happy again, regardless of when and how, or what… is just making me so peaceful.

I love this planet, I love this species, I love us, I believe in us. I love that God that might never exist. I just genuinely have a flood of emotions right now that I can not transmit through this 16% charged notebook.

Cheers everyone, breakfast's up. And battery's down.

I love May. And that's genuine love. Real genuine love.
She's my Venice Queen. She's my Achilles' heel.

It's only been 30 minutes since i stepped foot back in this house, and the first thing i did was posting this...

2+2=5

2006-12-13T20:45:00.000+09:00

I'm going home in 5 days... I'll be back in this room in another 30 days. Let's hope a miracle comes along.

I need a familiar skin against my head,

I've lost my first battle with life. I dont even wanna think what that means.

I need to regroup. I need to relate, to dream, again.

u see, 2 and 2 always makes a Five.

powered by ODEO

Pity The Nation

2006-12-05T10:02:00.000+09:00

Pity the nation that is full of beliefs and empty of religion.

Pity the nation that wears a cloth it does not weave, eats a bread it does not harvest, and drinks a wine that flows not from its own wine-press.

Pity the nation that acclaims the bully as hero, and that deems the glittering conqueror bountiful.

Pity a nation that despises a passion in its dream, yet submits in its awakening.

Pity the nation that raises not its voice save when it walks in a funeral, boasts not except among its ruins, and will rebel not save when its neck is laid between the sword and the block.

Pity the nation whose statesman is a fox, whose philosopher is a juggler, and whose art is the art of patching and mimicking.

Pity the nation that welcomes its new ruler with trumpeting, and farewells him with hooting, only to welcome another with trumpeting again.

Pity the nation whose sages are dumb with years and whose strong men are yet in the cradle.

Pity the nation divided into fragments, each fragment deeming itself a nation.

Pity us, Pity Lebanon, Syria, Iraq, Egypt, Palestine... The Middle East. The World.

Lebanon, A real disappointment...

2006-12-01T13:25:00.001+09:00

Rime Allaf, again, saying my exact thoughts. I think, the exact thoughts of all syrians who had sympathy for Lebanon. Who had sympathy for the Lebanese, and who truly believed in real freedom and democracy for both countries.

What if we go into mass hysteria when one of our leaders is killed, forgetting all our past criticism of him, living in denial about the state of our economy and foreign debt, and only remembering his multi-billionaire's vision of our capital's downtown? What if we lose sight of the values we fought for all these years when the unjust rulers ruled? What if our intellectuals, writers and activists all suddenly decide to ignore those who for years defended their cause and wrote about it at great risk to their personal freedom? What if we ignore a joint declaration they have taken great risks to publish in support of our cause, and look the other way when they are punished for it?

What if we begin to mix between people and rulers, and what if we start taking it out on poor workers, beating them, killing them, burning their tents? What if we start speaking of the rulers' compatriots, or co-religionists, as if they were to blame for our years of hardship? What if we start treating them all in one way (a bad way), forgetting that they suffered as much as we did from these rulers, even if they came from the same background?

What if we start doing what they are doing? I've always thought Syrians had learned from their neighbors (in Lebanon and now in Iraq) never to fall into the temptation to take revenge or to fight on sectarian or other God-forsaken terms. I'm not so sure, however, that the temptation to bicker stupidly and endlessly has gone; in fact, if there's anything our sycophants know how to do, it's waxing poetic about leaders and repeating useless slogans ad nauseam while the important issues are ignored. Imagine if they start using these "skills" to reinvent today's "responsibles" as tomorrow's visionaries, and if they start to fight one another and paralyze the nation ... now that really would be the end of us yet.

The full article, Here.

This was my comment there...

I was such a passionate supporter of the "cedar" revolution, [the people that is, never the warlords], and i argued so fiercely that they will chose a new lebanon when they get a chance, that they've been through civil war 3 times, that they've learned how to be lebanese, as opposed to sunnis, shiites and maronites. that democracy in beirut, that a real lebanese state will only push "reforms" forward in syria, whether the royal family liked it or not. that the racism we've witnessed the first months, is just an instantaneous thing, it's just a reaction. I even wrote how syrians turned "racist" against lebanese also. which i still feel, but that's way beside the point now..

The sights on TV, of people swearing to be lebanese and only lebanese, of this girl kissing the security guard who's supposed to be holding her off, so she couldnt get to downtown. brought so many emotions, I honestly believed, like so many others, that it would actually be the start of the end for the regime, at least as "regime".

but then there was the elections. were, all the criminals were "elected" now. to be politicians. that was the first blow...
and then, and then, and then... and not the least, the continuous disgusting racism against syrians, as a people, as a culture, as a country, and as an identity.

ur article just cried my heart out.

thank you, thank you. thank you.

AHHHHHHHHHH

2006-11-28T16:14:00.000+09:00

I hate this,

I hate this damn feeling of helplessness infront of that paper. Words are in my mind, vague shapes, and stroke orders, I KNOW THEM, I know the reading, I know the fucking kanji... but my hands arent working.

I spent half the time staring at my physics paper. How am I supposed to explain Newton's law in Japanese.

HOW? HOW? HOW?

I can see the page, I can see the writing, I can revise it in my head, Arabic is ofcourse easy, english is not that hard neither... but the fucking switch to japanese, doesn't work.. it just goes blank. I switch again, I start "drawing" the missing words in my answer... erasing, and writing again. The weirdest sentence patterns any japanese had ever seen.

I hate it.

I was about to scream, when I looked at this Kanji that I underlined 3 times while I was studying, and I just couldn't remember the stroke order. it wen blank. SHISETU. half an hour before the exam, I was joking with Miro that I'm gonna forget this kanji exactly because I studied it a lot. but when it happened it didnt feel funny. I was about to cry.

All is not good. relatively.

Although, Good times are coming soon,

But, Tomorrow, another day of helplessness infront of a Grammar paper, and then a chemistry one.

Thursday. Maths. Where I pick up [hopefully] those shreds of self-confidence scattered around.

cheers for now. drink for me people. for I cant.

Syria...

2006-11-26T02:26:00.001+09:00

الخوف من الغد هو العنوان الأساس لهواجس أسرتي وشعبي، أخي يقول: الله يجيرنا من مخططات الغرب والأميركان، ويضيف قريب لي: ومن حماقتنا وهو الأهم ، فالبراءة والنوايا الطيبة في هذا الزمن لا تكفي.
يضيف آخر : ليس كلنا أبرياء وطيبين ، بيننا من هم أنجس من شارون، ويفعلون المستحيل لتخريب البلاد.
يتنهد آخر قائلاً: الله يعينك يا بشار،والله كون محله لأحمل حالي وأمشي.
أمي تقول الله يسترنا من هالشتوية، قال المازوت بدو يغلا ومن عدا شي كل شي غلي،

كنت أصغي لأسرتي الصغيرة وأتخيل عائلتي السورية الكبيرة، ولا أظن الحديث مختلفاً عنه هنا.
كنت أفكر بصمت كيف سيقاوم شعبي المترع بالخوف من البرد من الجوع من الغزاة من الحماقات من اللصوص والمخربين في الداخل والخارج.
فجأة دخل أخي وقطع السلسلة السوداء حين قال : هل سمعتم؟؟
ميليس اعترف من أول لقاء مع غازي كنعان.

From some random draft paper of my dad's...

A notion,

2006-11-23T15:34:00.000+09:00

This is one of the best posts I've read in a while,

And definitely the most balanced commentary on the assassination of Pierre Gemayel.

It's nearly funny to note that most Lebanese bloggers are, as usual, passionately ridiculing the notion of "Syria doesn't gain by this" as even a possible rationale for their non-involvement. These days, it doesn't matter whether something makes sense or not as long as Syria can be blamed; you see, that rationale is that even if it doesn't benefit Syria, the Syrians are so stupid that they capable of doing things that hurt them.

I second that. It's become annoying.

Now what?

2006-11-22T01:21:00.000+09:00

Update: This post was a bit emotional. I wrote it when i first heard the news... It's just frustration, with every single thing in that place. How can a country survive if half of the people calls the other "Traitors", and vise versa...

I donno.

Pierre Gemayyel is killed in an attack on his car today in Beirut.

Hariri was quick to accuse the Syrian Regime.

I donno anymore... I definitely donno for sure if THEY did it or not. but, my guts tells me that, No.

But what's worse, is that I donno what's the difference. that it would make.

This is getting surreal, Lebanon is turning into this funny story i can tell my grandkids 50 years from now. The whole middle east seems just so distant, seems exactly like "Scary Movie".

I dont understand those people who can think of saying sth like, "yeah, let the americans leave Iraq immediatly.." leave it, to do what? for whom?!
We all know how much mes it is, and if something, it's THEIR job to make it right... levae where u idiot..!?

I realized that I dont care anymore,
Fuck, THEY CHOSE THIS FUCKING MESS. I dont give a damn what logical explanations u have. but they had the chance, and they elected Aoun and Junblatt and Hariri, and Nasrallah.

Kess ekht hal balad, ma ra7 tet3almo.

Fuck, I'm angry.
I'm ANGRY.

I was talking with shirine about Ziad's latest articles. and she actually dared to say that Ziad, Ziad Rahbani, "3am ye2bad men Nassrallah."

I didnt know what to answer her.

Just like that, with such an ease, because he has a different perspective of things. now Ziad Rahbani, is an Agent for the syrian regime. and the "Shiite Iranian plot".

Fuck

I dont agree with him. I dont like some words in his articles. but he's Ziad. yel3an deenkon, Ziad 3allamkon shu ma3na tekoono lebnanieh wa2t ma kan feekon tekoono gher sunna w shi3a w khara.

It annoys when a Lebanese tries to tell ME, a Syrian. What the regime did to them... It's hillarious.

Fuck. I love that country, but... it's sad...

حاسس حالي سنبل

2006-11-20T00:01:00.000+09:00

Since I obviously have nothing important to say, and I decided to take the weekend totally off. A weekend to "relax" = feel like shit without feeling guilty for wasting time...

I ran through my old videos, and here I am sharing quite "intimate" moments of a past life in a small city on the mediterranean, life with a bunch of people, somehow like me...

Ofcourse, I'm the one who says "7ases 7ali sunbol" = "I feel like sunbol" :)... remember sunbol?... a totally irrelevant sentence in a totally irerrelevant place.

The monthly cleaning of my flat.

A forgotten dish of "Burghul", and not any burghul. "Burghul 3eed"... I honestly didn't how long it's been "growing".

I found out, that if i had done it at a hair salon it would've costed less money and effort... nevertheless, The hair turned out well after all...

A very average afternoon, in 3assafeery. This time, Bashar was the victim.

To sign off, with 2 quite annoying vids... it wasnt a pleasant day for neither ends, just so u would know....

Incoherent Bullshit 3 - From Tokyo

2006-11-18T23:15:00.000+09:00

When I'm in the shower, I realize how oddly looking us humans are. I look down, I see two long "legs" and something dandling in the middle. when ur in the shower, try it... I'm sure u'll feel the same way. I donno for women though.

What is a definition of a great man...? Churchill is great, and so is Hitler. Omar al-Khayyam is great and so is his friend Hasan al-Sobah. funny isn't it?

I'm at this point of my life, where I live Bakaloria all over again. minus, the courage, the familiarity, and the self-assurance. added, the wager.

I have always had the tendency to close down on myself. to close down on my mind, my thoughts, my ideas. my heart. given any encouragement. I have always been trying to fight it, apparently with not such success, I hate closed minded people and I hate defeated people. I hate them with passion, because I have such a huge part of me that would just like to live that way. I guess.

I said...

　私は子供の時からコンピューターに非常に興味があります。９歳のとき簡単なプログラミングを習い始めました。その時から私は情報工学の専門家になりたいと思ってきました。２００２年に開かれた中東の情報オリンピックでは、金メダルをもらいました。日本へ来る前に、母国シリアの大学で一年間、情報工学を勉強しました。私はソフトを開発したり、システム・アナリシスのような専門を研究したいと思っています。
　現在、シリアでは、情報技術(IT)の専門はとても重要になってきています。シリアはコンピューターサイエンスの専門家が必要とされています。
　コンピューターの世界は大きい世界です。絶えず、発展しています。だから、私はこの世界で単にコンピューターを使うだけの人ではなく、コンピューターを開発する人になりたいと思います。
　私は、学部を卒業した後で、大学院に進みたいと考えています。その後、研究者になりたいと思います。

I have never lost hope, in a third, forth, fifth, or millionth way out of this mess called the Middle East. It's not only, my naive romanticism, it's also History.

You see, Individuals are the pioneers for change. Governments are not, People are NOT [at least positive change...], everyday that passes on this hell-hole called middle east, makes me deeply believe in this. Individuals are those who change, and no one else. This Middle East, Far East, whatever u wanna call it, never lacked the spirits, never lacked individuals, I believe in that.

I have this sickness, this urge, to read books, right before my exams. I read Maya 2 hours before a very important physics exam back in the days. Ali and Nino, during my 10th grade exams. I read Heinrich Heine's Travels in Europe, at the dawn of my Bakaloria Chemistry final exam. now I'm fighting this poisonous urge to read Murakami's Kafka on the Shore.

I never said there's no God, I don't actually know whether he exists or not. I don't know. That's why I dont believe in him. If it's that important for him me believing I'm sure he knows how to do it. Since he didn't, WHY DO YOU PEOPLE BOTHER? ARE YOU HIS SOLE AGENT ON EARTH?

The most meaningless 2 arguments that I hear so often, too often actually...

Me, "I dont believe in God"
Someone, "But, You have to!"
Me, "WHY?"
Someone, "Because God said so, didnt u read the Quran"
Me, "@($&%$^&$"

If there's a God upthere, then he's much more godly than all the names u call him. and he's ~~Ashamed with u people. How do I know? I don't.~~ [I got a very thoughtful note from a friend, and she's right. God IS about Love, God is bigger than being ashamed of us humans. But to make my point clear, I was merely referring to the stupid argument, and simplification and difilement effect on the idea of God these arguments manage to create (in my own opinion ofcourse)].

Who of you knows Joseph Sa2er?

I'm living the lack of words. the lack of any sort of creativity. the lack of space...

Pride.

Why am I here writing this obviously worth-for-nothing shit instead of studying? That too, I don't know.

At somepoint, I will leave this blog. For some reason... But I know, that, If I survive the next 10 years, I will look back on this and be happy. maybe I'll be nostalgic, maybe I'll regret some stuff. I'll probably understand the stuff I write more, I'll probably slap my forehead and wish I had done a certain thing differently, cuz it's obvious [THEN], maybe I'll miss some feelings, some people. But overall, I will be happy to have made it there.

If I read the last thought without knowing Me, I would've thought I'm somekinda bosnian war victim. For those of u, who dont know me. I'm not. I'm not living an epic. And actually, most people would kill to be in my shoes. I would.

Regardless, I know I will be happy.

Today's Mood... Soap Kills - Le Zaalan?

Bad hair day - Bathroom, Tokyo.

Stare7, Sta3ed...

2006-11-13T23:23:00.000+09:00

I was listening to "Humat al-Diar" just now, I was so taken in... and when it was finished, the very first image that came to my mind, was a sound i heard in my head saying...

Stare7,
Sta3ed...
yalla, etnen etnen 3al saff...

This is sad,

I am sad.

We owe this place years and years worth of apology.

Why?

2006-11-05T22:01:00.000+09:00

So after all is said and done,

Saddam is sentenced to death.

I donno how to comment on this, I always lined against Death Penalty, I've always looked at it as more crueler than Murder, exactly because It's a legalized murder.

I donno, a couple of tears came off when I read it... not for Saddam, per se... but for Iraq, for Syria, for all of us humans... So they're gonna hang a dictator, people will have their revenge, some will look back with nostalgia to the old days when they were in power... and then all of them, will go back to killing each other.

What's left? another number on the death toll, the body count rises one. And people will fight on BBC whether this is the US, Islam, Dictatorship or simply the Ottoman's fault?

I really donno what to think right now, I'm spacing out and in, does it matter Why it had to happen? because, thats what we all seem to care about, Why it happened?

it's funny, once, months ago, I really thought that knowing the Why(s) was a mission on itself... now, I'm not quite sure... I'm not quite sure about anything really, I'm just not in the mood to weigh things... but I know for sure that these few lines were very true...

infornt of an obstacl:
Men = why is this probleme here ? who's fault is it?
Ants = how and with whom's help i can fix it?
there will always be a great diffrence between those who ask themsleves "WHY" and those who ask themselves "HOW"
... BW

Like home

2006-10-19T19:39:00.000+09:00

I just finished my exams, nothing much, at least I got my A in maths...

I'm still doing the Dorm-cast thingy.. just need time..

on another note, he's posting stuff that makes me feel like home...

مدينتي لاذقية....لاذقيتي اله...الهي حبيبتي....حبيبتي مدينة

من أوراق أبو نواس

2006-10-15T11:32:00.000+09:00

كنت في كربلاء
قال لي الشيخ أن الحسين
مات من أجل جرعة ماء ..
وتساءلت
كيف السيوف استباحت بني الأكرمين
فأجاب الذي بصرته السماء :
انه الذهب المتلألئ : في كل عين .
.............
إن تكن كلمات الحسين
وسيوف الحسين
وجلال الحسين
سقطت دون أن تنقذ الحق من ذهب الأمراء
أفتقدر أن تنقذ الحق ثرثرة لشعراء ؟
و الفرات لسانٌ من الدم لا يجد الشفتين.

*****

مات من أجل جرعة ماء
فاسقني يا غلام .. صباح مساء
اسقني يا غلام
علني بالمدام
أتناسى الدماء

الرائع أمل دنقل - من أوراق أبو نواس - الورقة السابعة

*This poem, has been with me, for a long time, playing inside my head, since the first time i read it, it stuck there... This "Waraqa" is one of my favorite among "the Awraq..."

You can read the whole poem Here, plz do, its an amazing festive of words and emotions.

For Her

2006-10-08T02:48:00.000+09:00

For,
The once in a life time that happened twice,
The butterfly that never leaves my forehead when I sleep,
The blistering taste of sipping my morning nescafe from my blue "Love is..." mug,
The unconcious feeling of shivering when she touches my skin, ever so softly,
The point where it all started, The reason why it all started,

For that 5 that never left my veins,

I give, 8 words, of...

Love,
Years,
||,
Eternity,
Dambo,
A Star,
A Tree,
And a lot, a lot of Christmas Gifts.

Chronicles of Syrian Expats

2006-10-07T20:40:00.000+09:00

It opens ur eyes wide, to things u never thought of, to facts that u always believed they'd be right there. It takes away solid ground and replaces it with sands that pull u down, it takes away ur serenity and replaces it with noises, just as it takes away that noise that used to be ur music and replaces it with thick silence. It pulls deeper, deep down, through ur brain, to ur heart. It makes u see more clearly, but more cruelly...

These are the jottings of people, although they never saw me, while writing themselves they were crying my heart through...

Omar's Deconstructed Life

I am going through a period of refusal these days.. refusing any imposed concepts and ideas..refusing what's generally referred to as the "general rules".... I have lived my life following rules I don't believe in.. now, I just can't do it anymore... we only have a few dozens of years on this eath.. how many of them will we spend working hard to please other people.. even if those people are complete strangers?

Ihsan's Thoughts And Notes

It was because he knew that one day, I will stop feeling his presence…I will stop remembering him before going to bed, I will stop going to the cemetery to pay him my usual visit that didn't stop until recently. He knew it all, he closed his eyes for the last time, knowing that I will forget about him.

Abu Fares's Tartoussi World

I tossed in bed for an hour or two. Deep inside, I knew that this is decision time. There was a right turn and there was a left turn. There wasn’t any straight road ahead. The last time I took a left turn was two years earlier, when I decided to stay in the United States and work there. Another left turn was much more complicated this time. I had no idea how many years would pass, if ever, before I would even consider asking the question again: “Why don’t I go back home?” I was making my way to the crest of the wave of my advancing career. The further I would climb the tougher it would be to stop, retrace my steps and make that right turn and head back to Tartous. Too much was at stake. Like an athlete contemplating an early retirement while still ahead, I made up my mind and slept very well after all.

The only things in common, is the after-taste, the bitter after-taste of these words...

We owe it to the school of "Gherbe" as my Friend in the Far East put it in his comment...

A toast to this school of Gherbe...

A toast, to Omar, Ihsan, to Me, and most of all, to Abu Fares...

A toast to those damn turns, and a toast to any push into any turn, instead of staring at ur spot...

ضمير مستتر

2006-10-06T06:39:00.000+09:00

He says...

الولاد الصغار شو وسخين....كتير وسخين
شوفوا هيدوني الولد و البنت القاعدين عند البحر...قديشون وسخين...كلون غبرة و وحل وهبرنة...أنتو و عم تلاحظوا قديشون وسخين لاحظوا شلون ناطرين منظر الشمس هي وعم تغيب...أنتو و عم تلاحظوا قديشون وسخين لاحظوا كيف عم يرجف هو و عم يلزق كتفو بكتفها...أنتو و عم تلاحظوا قديشون وسخين لاحظوا قديشكون نضاف....ليش كل ما نكبر منصير أنضف؟؟

Maad now has a blog.