Dusk in Kuwait
Dusk anywhere is one of my favorite times of day. In Riyadh, my husband and I would head down to the Dira’a souk, usually arriving just before the Isha call to prayer. We would buy a couple felafel sandwiches and a juice drink and sit in the large courtyard by the fort and eat our sandwiches while all the shops were closed for prayers. The sky would go from deep blue to a very deep blue purple, and it was that moment we waited for – the stars just visible and this just-before-black incredible color.
In my mind there is also a hush, but that is unlikely, as there were usually women and their children waiting in the same area for the men to finish their worship, and the children would be playing.
We are still looking for felafel sandwiches that taste that good. We would laugh; eating out for under $2 and it felt like such luxury.
In Kuwait, we are usually on our way to meet up with friends or somewhere around dusk. I always have my camera handy – you just NEVER know what you might see.
This isn’t really dusk, but it is dusky, in the interiors/exteriors shop as you enter the Free Trade Zone in Shwaikh – I can’t help it, I love this shop:
Not crisp, but the skyline is so eccentric:
Dwarfed in downtown Kuwait:
Almost dark – the mosque in the circle, downtown Kuwait:
Donna Leon Crossing Cultures
I’m in the middle of a Donna Leon read-fest. When I wrote the reviews the last time, I saw three books by her I had never seen – and I comb the aisles of Barnes and Noble when I am in the US, and Half Price Books, looking for titles by her. I am guessing some of her books haven’t been printed in the US, but I was able to find them from the UK Amazon.com.
The two latest books I have read by Donna Leon are timely. The first, Fatal Remedies, starts out being about Commissario Guido Brunetti’s wife, Paola’s crusade against the sex tours to undeveloped countries, her outrage against trips that allow grown men to exploit the poverty and need that the poorest of families will sell their own daughters and even young children to satisfy these men’s uncontrolled lusts. Her outrage leads her to a jail cell in her own husband’s precinct.
But just when you think you know where this story is going, it turns, as many of Leon’s books do, and tackles another subject, one very much in the eye of the news – falsified medications. There is a huge profit to be made, and huge wrongdoings in the medical supplies field, as expired medications are shipped to the most needy countries, and prescription and over-the-counter medications contain ingredients that are at best, harmless, and at worst – poisonous!
Guido Brunetti follows the money, and exposes the cheats.
In the second book, The Death of Faith, the issue – corruption in the church – comes close to home, as Brunetti’s daughter gets a low grade from her religious education instructor for asking questions, logical questions, about the dogma of the Catholic faith. Leon also tackles the issue of the order of Opus Dei, the same mysterious order featured in The DaVinci Code, an order that does exist, but about which solid knowledge is murky. What is known is that the order, in jihadist fashion, seeks to establish the Catholic church as the supreme guide to behavior on earth, it’s own version of sharia law to be the ruling principle in every country.
This is an anethema to Commissario Brunetti, and to all thinking Italians who savor the separation of church and state. He asks the eternal question – who decides? Who decides what behavior is acceptable, what questions are allowable? Religious belief, or the lack of it, is so very personal – this is a very timely issue that all nations are struggling with. Religious rule? Secular rule?
Underlying all the Donna Leon books is the sweetness of daily life with Brunetti’s family, his beautiful and principled wife, his teenaged children, the food they eat, the family discussions they have, the flowers he brings home and the strength of the connection they have with one another. The Venetian setting weaves its own magical thread through every novel, as we ride with Brunetti in the vaporetto on the canals, as we sit with him in a local bar for a quick coffee – or something stronger – and as he walks the streets from home to office, or to talk with a witness.
And last, but not least, the utter corruption in the Venetian system reminds us that veniality is not restricted to the United States, or to Kuwait, or to Nigeria, or Italy, or to any one country, but wherever man seeks to impose order, the chaos of corruption must be slowly and surely overcome by the building of an honest bureaucracy, people like you and me, serving in seemingly hopeless situations, but doing our best, day by day, like Guido Brunetti, to build a better world for our children.
Blarney Blarney Blarney
There is a two syllable word that starts with “b” and has to do with bulls and excrement and you use it to imply that someone is saying something that is not true. It is not a polite word, but there is a perfectly good two syllable word that also starts with a “b” and that is “blarney.”
When Adventure Man is chatting me up about something, and I can see where it is going, him spinning all these illusions and wanting my buy-in and this is the perfect “b” word to use: Blarney, Blarney, Blarney. We always end up laughing.
And Blarney is the word-a-day for today:
This week’s theme: toponyms coined after places in Ireland.
blarney (BLAHR-nee) noun
1. Flattery.
2. Misleading talk.
[After the Blarney stone, a stone in Blarney Castle in Blarney village,
near Cork, Ireland which, according to legend, gives the gift of the gab
to anyone who kisses it.]
A Word a Day is in the blogroll to the right, or you can subscribe to A Word a Day here.
The Good Husband of Zebra Drive
In Alexander McCall Smith’s newest book about Mma Ramotswe, it is a time of transition and unease. Unthinkable things happen. Mma Makutsi quits her job as Mma Ramotswe’s assistant detective, and Charlie, the apprentice, quits to start his own taxi service. Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni feels a restless urge to try out his detecting skills and everything is in turmoil.
And underneath, amazing things happen. When you think differently, there is room for change, and forgiveness.
With Mma Makutsi back in her usual place, the heavy atmosphere that had prevailed that morning lifted. The emotional reunion, as demonstrative and effusive as if Mma Makutsi had been away for months, or even years, had embarrassed the men, who had exchanged glances and then looked away, as if in guilt at an intrusion into essentially female mysteries. But when the ululating from Mma Ramotswe had died down and the tea had been made, everything returned to normal.
“Why did she bother to leave if she was going to be back in five minutes?” asked the younger apprentice.
“It’s because she doesn’t think like anybody else,” said Charlie. “She thinks backwards.”
Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni, who overheard this, shook his head. “It’s a sign of maturity to be able to change your mind when you realize that you’re wrong,” he explained. “It’s the same with fixing a car. If you find out that you’re going along the wrong lines then don’t hesitate to stop and correct yourself. If, for example, you’re changing the oil seal at the back of a gearbox, you might try to save time by doing this without taking the gearbox out. But it’s always quicker to take the gearbox out. If you don’t, you end up taking the floor out and anyway, you have to take the top of the gearbox off, and the prop shaft too. So it’s best to stop and admit your mistake before you go any further and damage things.”
Charlie listened to this – it was a long speech for Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni – and then looked away. He wondered if this was a random example siezed upon by Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni, or if he knew about the seal he had tried to install in the old rear-wheel-drive Ford. Could he have found out somehow?
In another place, Charlie has just told Mma Ramotswe of his plans to start the No. 1 Ladies Taxi Service:
For a minute or two, nobody spoke. Mma Ramotswe was aware of the sound of Charlie’s breathing, which was shallow, from excitement. We must remember, she thought, what it is like to be young and enthusiastic, to have a plan, a dream. There is always a danger that as we went on in life we forget about that; caution – even fear – replaced optimism and courage. When you were young, like Charlie, you believed that you could do anything, and, in some circumstances at least, you could. . . . .
“I will tell all my friends to use your taxi,” she said. “I am sure you will be very busy.”
And oh yes, in the midst of all this, three mysteries get solved – a case of inventory gone missing, a case of a string of inexplicable hospital deaths, and a case of a husband potentialy gone astray.
GREAT summer reading, deceptively simple. You find yourself mulling over the situations, the responses and the outcomes, and trying out new ways of thinking. Give it a try – you don’t have to read the whole series to enjoy each volume.
This eighth book in the series is available from Amazon.com for a mere $12.70. It makes great summer reading.
Today in History
First, congratulations to all our Kuwaiti friends on their Independance Day. 46 years. I hope you have a great celebration.
There is a wonderful website Today in History where you choose any date and you can see all the births, deaths and major events in history. Pretty cool!
Isn’t it amazing what is out there? People have taken so much time and energy to offer information and services to the world community.
Zanzibar for Magical Droplets
Magical Droplets asked for shots of Zanzibar, one of our very favorite places to relax.
So near, who would think this tropical paradise would be so close? Most flights from here go through Dubai or Abu Dhabi to Dar as-Salaam, but sometimes you can find a flight that goes Muscat – Zanzibar direct. So you get to go to two really cool places instead of just one.
If Oman is fusion Arabian, influenced by Africa and India, than Zanzibar is fusion African, with heavy Arabian, Indian and British influences. We stay at the Zanzibar Serena, only because we never seem to be able to get into Emerson and Green’s, a very funky hotel, every room different (and nice and large) and where you try to be for sundowners on the roof. It’s tradition.
To get away from everything, we stay at Mnemba Island, which has only one hotel on the whole island, run by CCAfrica. You have your own bungalow, which is as big as a small house, and all the privacy in the world. You can even have all your meals in your bungalow – your butler brings them. They do daily diving trips, and they have their own marine reserve with more fish than I have ever seen in one place, even an aquarium. The food is fresh and fabulous. You are treated as a cherished house guest. They tell you when you land that you will not need your shoes the entire time on the island, and you won’t believe them (the first time) but it’s true! The weather stays in the high 80’s (F) year round.
CCAfrica specializes in maintaining a low ecological profile while providing all this luxury. The bungalow is full of locally crafted goods, and the small gift shop is full of locally produced soaps, papers, textiles, crafted items. . .It isn’t easy to get reservations, as it is a great favorite with post-safari travellers and with honeymooners.
For us, the greatest luxury of all is privacy. Mnemba Island is paradise. Ahhhhhh. . . .Zanzibar . . .
Zanzibar Serena
Mnemba bungalow
Kinan’s Tag
1. Last movie you saw in a theater?
Pirates of the Caribbean 2
2. What book are you reading?
Currently: Donna Leon, Through a Glass Darkly
3. Favorite board game?
Board games are too slow. Hearts. Bridge. Poker!
4.Favorite magazine?
New Yorker
5. Favorite smell?
Jet fuel
6. Favorite food?
Italian and Japanese
7. Favorite sound?
Call to prayer
8. Worst feeling in the world?
Making a careless decision that causes harm to others
9. What is the first thing you think of when you wake up?
Gahwa!
10. Favorite fast food place?
Ivar’s (seafood chain in the Pacific Northwest)
11. Future child’s name?
Morgan. Douglas. Megan.
12. Finish this statement. If I had a lot of money:
I’d join Bill Gates Foundation and find ways to make the money work hard making the world a better place.
13. Do you drive fast?
Yeh.
14. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?
Husband? Cat?
15. Storms cool or scary?
Very cool.
16. What was your first car?
An ancient Mercedes
17. Favorite drink?
Bordeaux
18. Finish this statement, “If I had the time I would…”:
I have the time . . .
19. Do you eat the stems on broccoli?
In soup.
20. If you could dye your hair any color, what would be your choice?
Red
21. Name all the different cities/ towns you have lived in?
Alaska, Seattle, Heidelberg, Kaiserslautern, Mannheim, Wiesbaden, Tampa, Tunis, Monterey, Amman, Riyadh, Leavenworth, Doha, Kuwait
22. Half empty or half full?
Mostly Full
23. Favorite sports to watch?
College football
25. Morning person, or night owl?
Morning
26. Over easy, or sunny side-up?
3 minute
27. Favorite place to relax?
Zanzibar
28. Favorite pie?
Blueberry or rhubarb
I tag Fluent Thoughts, Magical Droplets, Skunk, Swair and Little Diamond.
No Accounting for Taste
My Mother once joked that the definition of good taste was someone whose taste agreed with your own. Her house is all smooth, modern, elegant lines, while mine is all old, antique and semi-antique. She has clean lines and clear surfaces, and I am guessing that to her, my decor is cluttered. (Not that she criticizes me.) We just have different tastes.
My husband and I also have different tastes. Often, his eye will alight on something, say like a Masai shield 7 feet long, and he will say “wouldn’t that be great in our house?” and my response is “yes! In your den!” He calls his den The Adventure Man Museum, and says that the only thing the Tarek Rejab has on him is that they have had a couple more decades of collecting. But he is still working on it!
He LOVES these trees. He keeps threatening to buy a couple for our yards back home. I mention little things like shipping expenses. . . . or maybe he is pulling my leg – ya think?
So far, we agree that they look great in context. I am not so sure they would do so sell in a rainy climate.
And this is what I love:
You used to find these everywhere in the Gulf, even in the cities you would find them in the diwaniyyas. This is the only one I have seen since I came to Kuwait, and it is in a museum. I remember being out in the beit-as-shar in the desert (for my non-Arabic speaking friends: tents, literally, House of Hair because the tenting was woven of goat and camel hair.) I remember the sound of the metal clanging as the coffee was ground in the morter, I remember the smell of the wood fire when the coffee was brewing, and I remember the coffee being poured through branches that kept (some of) the grounds out. I miss that ceremony; I miss the sounds and smells and taste, because out in the desert coffee tastes different. It wasn’t that long ago – but I never see them anymore.
Do you?
Happy Birthday, Big Diamond
You were the one with all the courage, you were the one who never understood the word “no.” With your big, sunny smile, you went ahead and did just exactly what you pleased.
“Watch me! Wheeeeeeeee!” you shouted as you jumped out of the swing, breaking your arm.
“This is how you do it!” you yelled, sliding on the ice down the long wooden walk, falling and breaking the other arm.
Nothing stopped you. You look the impossible in the eye, and you spit.
And all these years later, you still do! You are the most amazing woman, indominable, unstoppable. You set a high standard for all the rest of us, with your energy, your clarity of values, and your generousity of spirit.
And today, your birthday, will also be the christening of your first grandchild.
How amazing, how wonderful. You are in my thoughts, dear sister, and I wish I could be there to celebrate with you.
Souk Mubarakiyya Art Fun
It’s no secret. I love the Souk Mubarakiyya, and I love all the handicrafts shops, the jewelry shops (it’s no sin! It’s also a handicraft!) and the food stalls. I even love the fish market, and the dark, seedy shisha place that looks like it is out of some bad movie.
Here is one of my favorite pieces of public art in the market. Not because it’s good, it isn’t. but it is a lot of fun. When you take guests to the souk, you can position one of your guests in front of the woman, and it looks like he/she is part of the market scene.
Magical Droplets says she is inspired, and has grabbed her camera to start shooting.
It’s summer. Not a lot going on . . . so here is my challenge to you, Kuwait Bloggers. Grap your camera. Show us the beauty you see, the beauty of your community, show us the beauty of Kuwait, even in the scorching, crispy heat of a Kuwait summer.
And please come back here and tell us when you’ve posted, so my non-Kuwaiti readers can also click through to take a look at what you see. Keep your camera handy – you never know when a perfect photo will come up.
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