The “A” Word: Accountability
My internet was out when I got up – waaaaaay too early this morning, totally jet lagging, so I read this morning’s Kuwait Times, which I usually save as my reward for getting work done. (Yep, total news geek.)
You can usually scan a politician’s speech quickly to tell if it is platitudes or substance – so Speaker of the National Assemply Jassem Mohammed al-Koraifi’s speech at the opening of the National Assembly yesterday caught my eye. For one thing, he used the “A” word – accountability – three times. That’s a very brave word for a government official to use, and he used it in impressive ways.
He may have used the “A” word more than three times – I am betting he was speaking in Arabic, and the full text of the speech is not printed, only excerpts. Still – three times!
First, I’m impressed that he encourage women who are interested in participating as elected officials to start running NOW. He’s right. It takes more than an electoral season to build a winning platform. You know there are good women out there qualified and capable of public office – encourage them, support them, and introduce them to your friends.
The KT quotes the Speaker as saying that “reform is a responsibility that lies with all, and that that both parliament and government are first to bear that responsibility. ‘I stress to the head and members of the government; you are responsible for laying policies and responsible for implementing legislation and are accountable for your institutions and bodies’ performance, and bear the responsibility before your superiors.'” (emphasis mine)
His next reported use of the word is in his section on reform: “Parliament is a constitutional partner in the planning of reform precedures and legislation, and an overseer over implementing reform programs and realization of its objectives, and a body those who abuse its means and tools shall stand accountable to.” (emphasis mine)
The last reported use was in the part of his address on building consensus. “This should all come within a positive relationship based on transparency, credibility, mutual respect, and guarantees for optimal use of supervisory and accountability tools and where the independence of the judicial authority is maintained with none interfering in its affairs and where its objectives are the interests of Kuwait and its future, its security and its stability.”
My favorite part of the speech, beyond the “A” word, is this: “When coming upon difference inopinion or disagreement over an issue, the matter should be dealt with in parliament and in its committees and with a keeness to preserve this partnership.
“Handling such issues should be as partners who disagree rather than as enemies with a dispute; none shall question the patriotism of another, it is not right for any to doubt another’s loyalty, and there cannot be hurling of accusations and abuse and settling of scores as that would strain the social fabric and dispel amicability and respect.”
I started reading blogs when I was coming to Kuwait, and trying to find out what the issues were. The papers are . . . ambiguous. Vague. I could catch glimpses, but it was following the blogs that I have learned the most. One blog helped me understand the issues in May The Ultimate with words and photos and a discussion of what the difference was between one voting district, five voting districts or ten voting districts – something I had never found in reading the English press.
I find committment, passion, insight and intelligence in your blogs. I find potential leadership, and an honesty when you are talking with one another that I don’t find when I ask questions myself. We are all so careful in our cross-cultural conversations, not to offend, not to give too much information which makes us look bad.
My country is also young – only 200 years. We have had our corrupt Presidents, scandals, lax standards and poorly enforced laws. Rule of Law is not something that happens overnight – it only happens when a good majority of the people have the conviction that the rule of the majority serves the greater good of all, while still protecting the interests of the minority. It takes time. It takes committment. And it takes accountability.
Morning Culture
In Kuwait, driving early Friday morning is a delight – everyone is sleeping in, things won’t get busy until around noon. Sometimes you have the whole road to yourself.
Here, in the land of the descendants of Scandinavians, the morning may dawn dark and foggy and damp, but by 8 this weekend morning the highways are already crowded with early birds, out to catch the worm. I can’t help but wonder where they are all going on a Saturday morning, so early.
Saying goodbye to my parents this morning was really heart wrenching. They have become so weak and so frail. They are already up, although I am stopping by early, and Dad is watching a football game and Mom is fixing coffee. It breaks my heart to know how hard they struggle to stay independent, and that there is nothing I can do to make them young and hearty again.
I remember when my Dad was always on the cutting edge of technology. Well into his 70’s, he was buying new computers and writing code to make them do what HE wanted them to do. Now in his late 80’s, we were all astonished when he showed no enthusiasm for the new laptop we bought him – until we discovered that his hands were now bothering him, and the keys on the laptop were too small for him. I wonder when we will no longer find new technologies so enticing, and will long for simpler days – and we will look back on the early 2000’s as the “good old days” when life was simple.
The flights are crowded today – it’s a full flight, and here is is, the end of October. Isn’t this usually low season?
myafrica September Statistics
I like Africa anyway, but this blogger, Cerengeti, goes way outside the Africa box. He has gathered statistics from all over the world – and he gives all the references – that are amazing, horrifying, fascinating – from abortion in India to plagiarism in the United States – take a look at Myafrica’s Index for September 2006.
Addiction and Amy Tan
“I’ll just go in to get the birthday cards,” I said to myself, but the moment I opened the large brass-handled swinging doors, my heart started pounding, my breath came faster and like a moth to the flame, I headed straight toward that huge pile of “Best Sellers” just inside the door.
Mentally slapping myself and forcing myself back on the planned path, I forced myself away from the new arrivals and towards the cards. But oh, the temptations along the path . . . new sudoku. . . .oh a new Gregory Maguire . . . oh! oh! oh!
With great discipline, I manage to buy the cards and only two new books, a new Stephen King book, hot off the press, (my son had mentioned it and that it was getting great reviews) and the new Amy Tan book. Rationalization – I am returning to Kuwait and it is a looooooooooooonnnnnngggggg trip, easily a two book trip. But when you have an addiction, any excuse will do.
Amy Tan is always a rollicking good read. For one thing, her books focus on that big favorite theme of mine, cross cultural communication – and miscommunication. She has a keen eye, rapier sharp wit, and filets her characters neatly, but humanely.
Saving Fish from Drowning is about a tour group en route to China and Burma, told from the point of view of the tour group organizer – an art and museum patron who dies before the trip begins! She is with the group, however, in spirit – able to see everything, know what people are thinking, but not to intervene. Without her guidance, the group goes desperately awry – and it is funny, but also very very scary. You know something BAD is going to happen, and it isn’t going to be pretty.
Tan writes some great prose. Here is an excerpt about the main character, as she looks back over her life:
“But I ask myself now – was there ever a true great love? Anyone who became the object of my obsession and not simply my affections? I honestly don’t think so. In part, this was my fault. It was my nature, I suppose. I could not let myself become that unmindful. Isn’t that what love is – losing your mind? You don’t care what people think. You don’t see your beloved’s faults, the slight stinginess, the bit of carelessness, the occasional streak of meanness. You don’t mind that he is beneath you socially, educationally, financially and morally – that’t the worst I think, deficient morals.
“I always minded. I was always cautious of what could go wrong, and what was already “not ideal.” I paid attention to the divorce rates. I ask you this: What’s the chance of finding a lasting marriage? Twenty percent? Ten? Did I know any woman who excaped from having her heart crushed like a recyclable can? Not a one. From what I have observed, when the anesthesia of love wears off, there is always the pain of consequences. You don’t have to be stupid to marry the wrong man.”
Whew! Amy! You said a mouthful!
A Visit to Williams Sonoma
I am visiting Williams Sonoma looking for the elusive white truffel butter required in The Equalizer’s recipe for Pumpkin Risotto. Can’t find the white truffel butter, but I did find some very lovely things – things we can get a lot cheaper, maybe even better, in the Middle East.
First is what they call a Greek pepper grinder, for a mere $79.
I bought the same, beautiful pepper grinder in the Diraa souk in Riyadh for $10 – and I believe it came from Turkey. It grinds peppercorns beautifully and stores the grindings airtight in the bottom until you need to use them.
Then these two pots. The first one is $200, and the second ranges from the low $200’s to $320, depending on the size . . .
they are beautiful, hammered copper from Italy . . .and we bought beautiful, heavier pots with beautiful handles in Damascus for a fraction of what these cost. If I had to choose, I would choose Damascus any day for shopping, over Dubai. 😉
Is there anyplace in Kuwait where you can get copper pots re-tinned? Or has that, too, gone by the wayside?
(And a BIG shout-out to Joan of Arc who patiently taught me how to link pretty)
Dubai 2010
My niece (Little Diamond aka adiamondinsunlight) doesn’t have her own blog yet. Until she does, I get to share all the information she shares with me.
This one is from New Left Review and is a fascinating article about the Dubai of the Future, a playground for the rich and idle, with unimaginable luxuries – but at what cost?
“Trending” toward Democrat
I love to watch language change and evolve, and it’s happening all the time. Today on NPR the announcer was talking about the upcoming mid-term elections in the US in November, and he was talking about states that are “trending towards Democrats”. I haven’t heard “trend” used as a verb before, but why not? I “google”, and been googled. I blog! All kinds of words are transitioning from noun to verb. I wonder if the same thing is happening in Arabic?
Amazing Race Kuwait: Dying Laughing
The funniest part of all is watching the contestants on the Amazing Race Kuwait trying to find Souk Soulabiyya. The funniest thing of all is watching them look at the maps and say “it isn’t on here!” No kidding!
The coolest thing of all the the gracious people who help, even dropping their own errands to lead them in the right direction.
And the most amazing to me, is that one member of each team had to climb up the outside of the Kuwaiti water towers – holy smokes. Even those who had a terrible fear of heights were determined to make it. I was in awe of how they faced their fears and prevailed.
But oh, watching them try to navigate the roads – dying laughing! If you don’t laugh, you’re gonna cry.
Thought I had published this last night, but found it this morning in drafts. Drat!
Some Things Just Don’t Translate
Three sets of eyes looked at me with disbelief, mixed with horror. I was explaining to my three students that I was having a group of American university students at my house for Halloween. We would all welcome the Hallowe’en trick-or-treaters as they came around in our compound. We expected hundreds – children from far and wide throughout the city came to trick-or-treat where the westerners lived. Even if the children didn’t “get” Halloween, they liked the costumes and the candy.
It wasn’t the trick-or-treating my students didn’t get. It was that I had said we would all be dressed as pirates. We would have patches and capes and bandannas, some would have hooks, others would have swords. We would say things like “Ay matey!” and “Aaargh” and “Pieces of eight.”
They didn’t know what pirates were. They had never seen Peter Pan with Captain Hook, they hadn’t seen Johnny Depp in his fey performance as Captain Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Caribbean. I started off with enthusiasm.
“Oh, pirates lived a long time ago. Hmmm, no actually, there are still pirates today. They sail old ships, and then they stop and capture ships on the high seas and like hold people for ransom. They sing songs and drink grog and some of them have peg legs, or hooks for hands . . .” even I could see that this was not going well.
“No no!” one cried. “Why would you want to be a pirate?”
“hmmm, well you’re right, REAL pirates weren’t very nice, I guess. They raped and stole from others, but for some reason we just dress up and PRETEND to be pirates. . .”
Now, it’s even starting to sound lame to me.
“There were some good pirates, too. . .”
“What did they do, khalti?”
(I am totally blank. I have an image of a deer in the headlights; the deer is me with no where to run.)
I don’t know. Were there any good pirates? Why do we think pirates are so much fun? Is it the costumes? As kids we would make each other walk the plank, and swashbuckle around, it was a good break from cowboys and Indians. Seeing it through my students’ eyes, though, it just wasn’t working.
Some things just don’t translate.
“We Don’t Judge You By Our Standards”
It’s never a good thing when a sentence starts with “we don’t judge you by our standards.” You know that whatever comes next isn’t going to be good.
It was our favorite time during Arabic studies. We were sitting around in the majlis room, sprawled against the cushions. We had finished all the lessons of the day, practiced new verbs, done all the dialogues to death, and we had a few minutes left before classes ended. Our teachers were really special women, and during these last minutes it was always question time, when we could ask them anything, anything, and they would answer, even if sometimes to laugh and tell us it was none of our business. We had so many questions!
“When we go downtown, ” I had started, “we have a good time. We laugh and we talk and chat among ourselves as we shop. But when we see local women shopping, we see you in groups, but you aren’t laughing or chatting. Is there some prohibition against it?”
There was a long silence. I really liked this teacher, and she really liked me. I knew, as the silence dragged on, she was seeking for a way to be kind. Finally, she spoke.
“You know, we understand you have other ways, not our ways. We don’t judge you by our standards. . .” and she gave a little sigh.
“In our culture, for a woman to laugh out loud in public . . .it would be taken as lack of self control. People could criticize. It could keep a young woman from making a good marriage.”
You could hear the collective gasp. Although it was said with great kindness, it was a serious blow.
When you are first learning a new language, and a new culture, it can be intimidating, but mostly, if it is well taught, it is fun, exciting, and stimulating to be mastering a new skill. The women at this language center went to a lot of trouble to insure that we were entertained while we were learning. They taught us Ramadan customs, they prepared an Iftar supper for us, they brought in all their jewelry and produced a bride. They henna’d our hands, and poured us tiny cups of qa’wa and chai with milk and spices. They took us on field trips. They treated us like sisters, or daughters. They were so kind, and babied us along as we struggled with the new language.
I give this teacher a lot of credit. She could have finessed the question, but she didn’t. She considered her answer, she knew it could offend us. And she chose to answer us honestly, trusting we would deal with it.
I had a physical reaction. I wanted so badly to “get” Arabic, to understand all the customs . . . but to give up laughter? I went through all the stages of grief, staying longest with denial and anger. I thought of all the times I headed for the souks in a gaggle of laughing women, and I felt ignorant, and ashamed, and also angry. It was a real struggle for me, a blow to my pride, an embarrassment. I felt sick to my stomach, and stayed depressed for a couple weeks. I didn’t want to change. I didn’t want to have to give up laughter.
And then one day, somehow, it stopped mattering so much. Time did its work. Life went on. The teacher kept teaching, we kept learning. I no longer go downtown in groups of more than three, and we keep our voices down. We’re still our loud, noisy selves most of the time, among ourselves, but in public – we don’t want to be thought of as women who lack self-control.
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