Spam Comments
Before you go any further, this comment which I found in SPAM is a “fund-raising” SCAM. I am only printing it as an example of some of the “Nigerian” scams out there – this is a new one for me, clearly targeting Muslims. It is hard for me to believe that people act on these letters, and find themselves out of their life savings.
The moral: if it seems to good to be true, it IS too good to be true. Don’t let greed blind you. This is a SCAM:
Dear Sir,
I’m Ali Ahmed, from Gambia West Africa,I want to explain my problem to you as Muslim father.My biological father name is Mohamed Ahmed,my father was born in a christian home,but my father and I find Islamic religion as the only true religion,and my father and I started practising Islam for good two years before my father relatives poison him because he changed to Islam.Now they after me,trying by all means to terminate my life,so that they will wipe Islamic religion in the family, As am writing to you my life is in danger,I can no longer go to my fathers compound,I cannot move freely in the street because their running behind me, My father was a successfully international business man, he trade on mineral resurces all over Africa.My father deposited 20,000 000 Million united state dollars to the national security company Gambia,of which I am the next of kin.All the documents both the depositing certificate is in my possession, Pleas sir, I want you in the name of Allah to help me come to your country and invest this money. May Allah Bless you, You can call me through this number
Tel (removed by blogger)
Email (removed by blogger)
Thanks
Yours faithfuly
Ali Ahmed
A Long Way Gone: Ishmael Beah
Back when I wrote an update on Dharfur, my blogging friend Chirp recommended a book, A Long Way Gone; Memoirs of a Boy Soldier by Ishmael Beah. I ordered it that very day, and read it this last week.
It is a truly heartbreaking autobiographical book about a young mischievous boy growing up in Sierra Leone, leading a relatively simple and carefree life in his village with his family. It is very African. He talks about the games he and his friends play, his fascination with rap music and the simple joys of the life he is leading.
Then the rebels come. The invade the villages, hopped up on dope, their dead eyes with no pity, raping, killing, chopping off limbs, stealing all the village food and burning the village behind them, often with people locked inside their huts.
Ishmael escapes once with friends, eventually returning to the village to find his entire family gone. Most of the book has to do with what he has to do to survive. Many villages are very afraid of groups of boys, even boys as young as these are – in their early adolescence – and will hurt them. At the very least, most of the villages hurry them along. At one point Ishmael is hiding out in the jungle forest on his own, hiding from lions, giant feral pigs, sleeping up in trees and looking for the rare fruit or grass that he can eat without getting sick.
Finally, after meeting up with some other boys and continuing to try to find his family, a village takes him in, a village run by the state soldiers. As they are attacked by rebels, the boys are forced to make a choice – go out on their own again (where the rebels will also try to recruit them, and if they refuse, will kill them) or agree to be soldiers. These are kids 12, 13, 14 carrying AK 47’s. As part of their training they are given drugs on a regular basis which keep them hopped up, full of energy, and not sleeping for days. The young boys learn to kill without pity. He becomes the very people he was fleeing.
This is a book about redemption. At the center where the boy soldiers are taken, they are constantly told “none of this was your fault.” It is a very African approach, a very human and loving approach to redemption of lives that might have been totally lost to the horrors they have witnessed and inflicted. The author is now nearly 30, and sounds – unlikely as it might be – happy.
Thank you, Chirp, for recommending this wonderful book.
Trivial
Any time I start to get all puffed up about readers complimenting me on my blog, I just take a look at the search terms that bring them in.
You know, I would love to think it is our discussions about political and social issues, the books I review, the travel destinations I recommend, the human experiences we share . . . I would love to think that.
It just isn’t the truth. Here is what brings the most people to look at Here There and Everywhere. It is truly, truly humbling.
Deemaland
You know, I always visit my commenters to make sure they are not someone marketing drugs or enlargements or some kind of objectionable filth, and also because I often find a blog I haven’t seen before, and I really like.
I found one like that yesterday – Deemaland. When you go there, the first thing you see is this:
Oh my friends, is that gorgeous, or what?
Then, she tells us about an exhibit:
9-13 Mar. 2008
Event: “Architectural Catwalk”
5th Annual Exhibition of Architecture
Host: Kuwait Architectural Student Association [KASA]
Type: Exhibition of the students work.
Location: Al-Raya Complex, Sharq district, Kuwait City.
(the exhibition is in the Ground floor of the mall side)
Only on HER blog, even the information looks artistic.
This woman has an EYE. She publicizes events that otherwise might go unnoticed. Go visit Deema’s starkly beautiful blog. Also, take a look at her gorgeous Flicker photos.
“So Many Christians!”
My Kuwaiti friend was shaking his head in disbelief. He had been to the old city to pay a condolence call on a Friday, and happened by the Lighthouse compound near the Sheraton circle on a Friday morning, just as some of the services were getting out.
“I had NO idea!” he looked at me in absolute amazement.
I just laughed. When we first got here, we attended church on that compound; our church moved off only months ago, when the road construction work got seriously under way and parking increasingly became a problem. It was the most amazing experience on earth – there were the Indian Men’s Catholic services and the Philipine Evangelical service and the rock-music evangelical service and the staid Anglican services and the family Philipine Catholic services and . . . well, you get the picture. There are an amazing number of expatriate Christians in Kuwait. At any one time on the compound, there are about twelve different services going on, and no sooner does one finish and the participants exit, than the new group is coming in.
Now, churches meet all over Kuwait. They met in villas, they meet in schools, they meet in every neighborhood. Today, in our church, we asked for blessings on Kuwait, on the Emir and his family, and those in leadership positions in Kuwait. We prayed for the leaders of all the countries in our congregation (English, Irish, Scottish, South African, Chinese, Indian, Nigerian, Kenyan, Dutch, Egyptian, Ethiopian, American, Australian {I have forgotten a few, I am sure} . . . lots and lots of blessings!) Most of all, we thank God for the freedom to worship in Kuwait.
(This is not our church in Kuwait. This is the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, in Jerusalem. I was looking for a church that looked more Middle Eastern than Western, and this is what I could find!)
Our pastor also has a blog, q8bridge about which he says “The purpose of this blog is to enable a bridge to be built between Christians and Muslims, especially those living in Kuwait. Through questions and dialogue we hope to promote deep friendships and mutual understanding.”
He examines the beliefs we have in common, and where we differ, and some of the reasons why we differ. I urge you to have a look.
History of Architecture in Old Kuwait City (3)
I am quoting so much from Saleh Abdulghani Al-Mutawa. Architect, that you may think you don’t need to run out and buy the book but I assure you, I am only sharing with you a few of the gems I found within. The author has done so much research with such loving attention that the book is full of treasure, every page offers something worthy.
The Year of Demolish
It is a sad memorial in Kuwait’s history. In Rajab 1289 A.H. (i.e. in the middle of the nineteenth century), heavy rains accompanied by severe winds hit the old Kuwait city, and demolished most of the mud houses. Sea waves went high and hit and wrecked ships. It was a disaster for Kuwaitis.
A second natural disaster took place in Kuwait on 30 November 1954 when heavy rains fell and demolished houses and forced 18,000 Kuwaitis to seek refuge in newly built schools. Houses built of mud and a little cement were severely affected, while houses built of rock were not affected.
My Kuwait friends – tonight, instead of going out in your cars, stay home! Sit with your grandparents and ask them about the house they grew up in. Ask them about the meals they cooked. Ask them about the heavy rains, so heavy that they could destroy houses and force 18,000 Kuwaitis to abandon their homes and go stay in schools. These are amazing stories – learn your stories from your grandparents . . . and then come tell us all the stories in your own blogs. If you don’t have a blog, or if you want to share here, you are welcome.
Some of my Kuwait friends ask why I care more about these things than the Kuwaitis. First – my Kuwaiti friends care. In my country, we call these people “the silent majority.” Every now and then the majority energizes and asserts itself. Kuwaitis care. Change is happening, it happens slowly. Keep the faith.
Second – I live here. I may not be Kuwaiti, but I care about the places where I live. If God has placed me here, I trust that he has his reasons, and it is my obligation to him to learn as much as I can and to serve – wherever he may place me. He placed me in Kuwait.
Tomorrow I will print my very favorite part of this book – where it describes family living. Meanwhile, run out and buy your own copy. There is so much I am not covering. This book is a part of your heritage.
Stealing My Ideas?
Yesterday I was happily working in the project room. The Qatteri Cat, feeling neglected, came yowling back a few times, then went and got his baby and came back to be with me, and went to sleep. He looked so sweet. We don’t know what the baby is all about. Maybe he is lonely? Maybe we all need something small to comfort us when we are feeling neglected? All we know is that wherever we are, the QC will bring his baby back to be with us – and then, often he will leave it, as if we are the baby sitters or something.
So here is the Qatteri Cat and his baby:
You know when your cat – or your child – does something so sweet, you kind of think he’s the only one in the world that has ever done something that cute?
When I checked in with I Can Haz Cheezburger? this morning, I found this:
Enter the ICHC online Poker Cats Contest!
I think they must have plucked the thoughts out of my brain. 
While You Were Sleeping
It’s not that I’m that good, that obsessive, that I would get up every morning to photograph the sunrise. No, AdventureMan has to get to work, I have projects I am working on – AND there is the Qatteri Cat.
His little pea-brain doesn’t know it’s Friday morning. All he knows is that his food dish is empty. He goes around the house, pulling over the trash bins (they are small, they don’t make a lot of noise) and then he scratches at boxes and closets, thinking somewhere there might be food. I am guessing it goes back to some deep instinct, looking for food, from his street days.
I had forgotten to fill his dish last night.
I was so tired, I kept falling asleep over my latest Donna Leon book. Finally, around nine, I turned out my light. When the Qatteri can started sniffing around, pulling over trash cans, opening cupboards (what you hear is thump. thump. thumpthumpthump as he tries to paw it open) and scratching at boxes, I was mostly ready to get up, even though it wasn’t quite six.
Good thing! Cold, clear morning, no sand, not a cloud in the sky and just look at that sunrise:
It is 46°F/8°C this morning. There is a wind, and it feels colder.
Phase Me
AdventureMan and I were having one of those conversations we love so much – why we say what we do. This time, it was on the word phrase “phase”. We have a collection of words you use one way but not the other, and we are adding to it all the time.
Like with “phase” – we never say “Oh, man, I was so totally phased.” We never say “that phased me.”
We MIGHT say “I sort of phased out when he started talking about molecular electronics and phased back in as he summed it up,” but that is a phrase – phased-out / phased-in. I’m not sure they are related.
No.
We say:
That didn’t phase me.
I wasn’t the least bit phased.
We got throught he entire procedure unfazed. (It’s the same word.)
I’ve been searching the internet for any kind of explanation as to why we use this almost exclusively in the negative, and I can’t find much.
I did find a website, Urban Dictionary which asks for audience participation to define what words and phrases mean. Very interesting:
1. phase
(Votes) 132 up, 17 down
(Verb) To disturb, perturb, deter or intimidate. Usually used in the negative.
“They swore at me, but hey, I’m not phased.”
“You can’t phase me by talking while playing chess.”
This entry brought to you by Mrm who used the phrase in a recent comment and it was just too much of a co-incidence, so I had to write about it.
Update:
I just couldn’t let it go. Finally I discovered the problem. Me and Mark Twain have the same problem, thinking phase and faze are related. They are not. From Wiktionary:
English
Pronunciation
fāz, /feɪz/, /feIz/
Homophones: phase
Rhymes: -eɪz
Verb: to faze
third-person singular simple present: fazes,
present participle: fazing,
simple past: fazed,
past participle: fazed
To frighten or cause hesitation; to daunt, put off (usually used in the negative)
Jumping out of an airplane does not faze him, yet he is afraid to ride a roller coaster.
Related terms
unfazed
Translations
to frighten or cause hesitation; to daunt
Usage notes
Citations for faze in the OED start in 1830; usage was established by 1890.
The word phase is sometimes used incorrectly for faze; such notables as the New York Times and Mark Twain have made this error. This sometimes leads to the supposition that faze is an uneducated spelling of phase; they are distinct terms.
The Purg’s Not-Tag
The Purg has non-tagged us to link to The Purgatorian Blog with things that fascinate us.
It fascinates me that thirty year olds are sounding like really really OLD people, criticizing the young people just the way the adults used to criticize them, their choice in music, their ideas of fashion and I wonder how we change from young people who explore new ideas into old people who criticize new ideas?
It fascinates me that although we became “human” so long ago, we find the most amazing reasons to beat up on each other, kill each other, torture each other, and if you just step back a step or two, you begin to see that all the reasons to fight one another are flimsy compared to the great miracle of our creation. I wonder if we are really civilized? I wonder just how thin the veneer of civilization really is? How little it takes to turn us back into beasts?
It fascinates me how the things we own really own us. I have a horror of being forced, in the afterlife, to carry all the THINGS I consider important in this life on my back, like a turtle with it’s shell.
It fascinates me the trivia I give my attention to, the time I WASTE when I have things I really need to do.
I am fascinated by the darkness we all carry within us, and the heroic people I know who strive on a daily basis to overcome that darkness, to give their best in every situation, with earthly good humor and humility.
The Purg sent out this not-challenge to anyone interested to write a post on the sorts of thoughts that fascinate you.
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