Missing Our Muezzin
As we listened to the church bells clinking out the sound of the hours last night, AdventureMan turned to me and said “I miss our muezzin.”

We have a spectacular muezzin. You know how some people TALK about loving God, but when you look at how they behave, you wonder “is that what loving God looks like?”
When we hear our muezzin call out the call to prayer, we can hear his love of God. He was gifted with a glorious voice, and even at the earliest prayer, around 3:30 in the morning, he calls with joy and love in his voice. This man loves God, and he serves God by doing his best with every prayer.
(I did not draw that muezzin above. It is a poster, and you can find it by clicking Allposters here.)
Moving Violation
You may have noticed I am not as engaged with the blog right now. Truth is, I have a lot on my mind. As with many expats, this summer will bring a move from Kuwait, and moves take a lot of energy, both mental, emotional and physical.
I do some of the packing myself, because having something to do helps me fight the sadness I feel about leaving, and also because the things that the packers don’t see, don’t disappear. I know that sounds cynical.
This is my 30th move. In one of my early moves, two packers arrived with great big bags. It did occur to me that was rather odd, but I was a sweet and trusting young woman. When I arrived at the other end of the country missing two sterling silver cups engraved with my son’s name and the date of his birth, I started to get wiser about moving. To this day, it hurts me inside that someone would steal cups given to me to commemorate our son’s birth. It isn’t the cups. It’s that they were celebrating a very special event. It still hurts.

The second illumination was arriving at my destination to discover my riding boots packed with my formal gowns. it wasn’t the dresses. It was that someone cared so little that my worn, dirty boots would be packed with those filmy, fantasy creations. It was almost hostile. I still remember it, and it has to be over 20 years ago.
One move, each piece of tupperware was wrapped individually. One salad bowl – plastic – was wrapped in one large box. Even though the government was paying for these moves, not me, it sent a strong message. Someone was stretching the square footage of the move. Now, I pack my own tupperware, and it easily ALL goes in one box, and no, not a lot of wrapping.
One move, three boxes just never showed up, and they contained things of no value to anyone but me.
I have a thing about putting too much value on things. I don’t want to miss things – I want to let them go. I am good at letting go of things I choose to let go of, and I find I am not at all good at letting go of things taken from me when I had no choice.
And it’s a whole lot easier for me to focus on packing things, and thinking about things that have gone missing than to allow myself to experience the PAIN of all I leave behind every time I move, the sweet friendships, the church, the teams I play on, the sights, the smells. Sometimes I think all my photos are an attempt to hang on to something I know I will have to leave behind.
John Berendt and City of Falling Angels
When AdventureMan brought home City of Falling Angels for me, I thought it was another mystery by the author of the famous Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. I had loved that book, full of unforgettable characters living in Savannah, Georgia, so I was a little puzzled with the immediacy and real-life feeling of this new mystery when I started it.
It’s set in Venice. The main “character” observes – much like Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil – Venice, and its population. He arrives just after the horrendous fire that totally destroys La Fenice, the opera house, and we meet a wide variety of characters right off, experience the fire through their first hand experiences. We smell the smoke, we feel their horror as the fire grows, and spreads. We are depressed when the fireboats cannot quell the flames because the waters in the canal have been emptied, and are too low in the others.
I kept waiting for Commissario Guido Brunetti, Donna Leon’s Venetian detective, to show up.
I was about half way through the book when I realized – this wasn’t fiction. It was John Berendt living in Venice, meeting with and interviewing all these fabulously interesting people. Yeh, sometimes I am so SLOW!
But I was hooked. I kept reading. The mystery is how did the fire at La Fenice start, who started it and why. In the end – and believe me this is not a spoiler, because this book is really only peripherally about the fire at La Fenice – people are convicted, but you are never really sure these are the right people, or if, indeed, there was really a crime, or if the crime was negligence – but how can negligence be a crime if it is part of the culture?
One thing Berent says that Donna Leon also implies – don’t go to Venice during tourist season! Go when tourists are not there – after carnival, when it is cold, when it is raining. Stay in Venice, and walk, off the paths the tourists on their one-day-in-Venice travel. Visit the small markets, drop in for a coffee where the locals are drinking, but most of all – walk. And walk. and walk.
This is not an exciting book. It will not hold you on the edge of your seat like some horror thriller, turning pages because you are afraid to turn out the lights. The horrors in this book are the gossip, the strivings of various people to enter into Venetian society, the cut-throat competition for invitations, and who gets the prime seats at the opening night at La Fenice.
On the other hand, I loved his attention to detail, the ease with which Berendt got people to talk to him, the clarity with which he captures their personalities. I loved his description of the interiors, and how he uses the voices of others to paint in a detailed picture of Venice today. I loved being inside the Venetian community, and hearing their innermost thoughts. This was a book I looked forward to at the end of a long day, it took me to another – and fascinating – world. I just wish Commissario Brunetti had showed up. 🙂
Spit for Brains
From today’s Kuwait Times:
Idiot Apprehended
A drug-user was caught thanks to his own stupidity after pulling over to gawp at a traffic accident scene on the Salmi Highway. Police at the scene were suspicious of his demeanor and asked to see his ID card. on producing it, police found a piece of hashish stuck to the back. He has been referred to the relevant authorities.
I am just quoting this. I don’t make this stuff up.
But did you notice – the Kuwait Times has made a major improvement; the police suspected the idiot’s demeanor. They used to say the police “suspected” the idiot, but did not say what drew their suspicions – this is a major breakthrough. Also, red handed was only used once, and it was used very cleverly:
Prostitutes, Punters arrested
Four Asian prostitutes and three of their customers were arrested ‘red handed’ when a vice squad team raided a brothel in Hawally. The officers acted after receiving a tip-off from an informer about the goings-on in the flat. The three customers confessed to paying KD10 each for the women’s services. All have been referred to the relevant authorities.
First, wooo hoo, Kuwait Times, for the ‘goings-on’ – the crime news has seriously taken a jump in the grammatical direction. 🙂 Second – 10KD??? It occurs to me that these women could be earning a lot more doing manicures and pedicures, and have a much less dangerous life at the same time.
Amazing Day
Yesterday turned out to be one of those days that surprise you. I didn’t have a lot of hope for the day, I started off feeling negative and thinking about cancelling appointments. My head has been a little stuffy, I have a mild cough, altogether, I am not in peak form.
I decided to keep my appointments, which required preparation, and the prep turned out better than I had expected. In fact, the entire day was full of unexpected blessings.
First – I know not all of Kuwait experienced it, but the storm! Lightning! Rain! Rain in late late April! Whoda thunk?
Then, the light – drama drama drama – dark dark clouds, but sunlight on the white-capped water, bringing out all the shades from turquoise through jade and lapiz into deep purple – oh, what joy! Last but not least, the wonderful breeze that kept everything from being hot and sticky – what a day! What I might have missed!

Rola Dashti Tackles Sensitive Issues
“Why are you looking so sad?” AdventureMan asked me as we sat down to dinner.
(Sigh) “There are people in Kuwait who don’t believe change is possible, and there is a movement afoot to WITHHOLD their votes as a protest.”
“Why do you care? It’s not your country?”
We call it “falling on your sword,” when a person does something fatal to self, to career, to family or to country, choosing an issue and staking everything on it. Rarely does it pay. The world moves on, life goes on and you are left behind bleeding on your sword.
Withholding your vote gives more power to those who are good at stirring up the rabble with irrational and selfish issues. Those who get the votes are those who make grandiose – and general – promises, those who refuse to be held accountable.
If you are a person who cares deeply about Kuwait – Please, do not withhold your vote. Do the hard work of listening to the candidates, and exploring their reputations for truthfulness and accountability. Think beyond your own needs, think of the greater good of Kuwait.
This is from today’s Al Watan; a candidate tackling some very sensitive issues, bringing them out in the open.
Ghenwah Jabouri
Staff Writer Al Watan
KUWAIT: In pursuit of winning enough ballots to secure a seat in the National Assembly, Dr. Rola Dashti, who is believed to be a potential woman candidate, delivered an emotive speech Monday evening to announce her parliamentary agenda if elected.
Dashti touched on sensitive and delicate issues which aroused the emotions of the audience, resulting in heated engagements later on in the evening.
Dashti mainly focused on family related issues, germane to women issues.
In an attempt to recoup the cynicism manifested by citizens toward parliament, Dashti urged the audience to not ponder on who is wrong or right.
“We need to move on; seeking to blame parliament, government, MPs, etc., is not going to serve us justice. We need to focus on developing Kuwait, rather then pointing our fingers at the wrongdoers, ” Dashti said.
She stressed that whether it was the parliament, the government, or the citizenship who committed the mistakes is not important; “what is important is that we learn from such mistakes.
“Individuals who have the cultural habituate of blaming, attacking and are cynical, do not want to move toward the future; rather, they want to travel back in time. Allow me to give you an example: last year, thirty percent of citizens in my constituency did not cast their ballot. These people are like you and me: their heart is burning for Kuwait, and they observed nothing positive, and they are in immense suffering.
“They gave up on hope and decided to ultimately not vote. Had half of them voted (nine thousand), ten people who would have succeeded in the Third Constituency elections would have determined a better fate for those that abstained from voting.” She further lamented that society should consider first and foremost Kuwait, and that the children, the youth and coming generations “deserve this.”
Dashti, further illustrating her point, noted: “For example, if soـandـsoـperson does not vote, who is going to protect their rights and so forth?”
Dashti stressed that Kuwait is experiencing “tumultuous times” and that the country is on the verge of a major collapse.
“Kuwait cannot afford political arguments and political confrontations and commotions. It is in our hands to save Kuwait. If we take responsibility, vote and call on those who did not vote to cast their ballot, change might have a chance of survival.
“Hundreds of people did not cast their votes because they lost their confidence in parliament. However, many families are suffering, and so, it is pivotal to acquire each and every vote; we need to give back what Kuwait bestowed us with.
“We need to give a little back to those who lost their lives to protect Kuwait during the Iraqi invasion in 1990; many people lost their lives during the invasion who fought for our liberty. Women were raped and families were torn apart. We need to give back a little, we need to continue to believe, and fight for our children and future generations,” Dashti added.
“Does Kuwait not deserve for us to stand in the cue for fifteen minutes to cast our votes?”
Talking more about women”s issues, Dashti noted that there are many things that need to be considered where women’s issues are concerned.
“Women have many burdens that they shoulder; the divorced, the widowed, the one who is married to an expatriate, and housing for women, all are issues the Kuwaiti woman suffers from.”
She pointed out that not every family is living happily, “although this is something I would love to achieve.
“Today, the Kuwaiti family has to wait fifteen years for (government) housing. Where will the divorced woman go during this lengthy period?
“This woman could be my sister, my mother, or our daughter; where does she go?”
Dashti noted that the law stipulates that a woman who is over forty years of age and both of whose father and mother are deceased and is unassisted by a guardian “is entitled to receive a housing allowance.”
“However,” Dashti said challenging the law, “what about other women in a somewhat parallel situation where the father is deceased but is not receiving allowance from her guardian ـ what can she do? Shall the woman take her guardian to court to sue him?
“Why does the law in pursuit of helping women insist on punishing them, even insulting her?
“This law is one of many that are flawed and need to be amended,” Dashti stressed.
She further said that “neither Kuwait or the people of Kuwait can tolerate empty words and useless slogans. Today we need to put many things on the table and take action in tackling them.
“Let”s now have a look at the children of some Kuwaiti women who are married to expatriates: we need to look at their educational, health, and employment and social needs and treat them with justice, like other children are treated who have Kuwaiti fathers.
“This is their country, why are we abusing them? These are our cousins, our brothers and sisters, and have to be treated with equality when their mother is a citizen of the country.”
She further added that citizens have been “fooled” enough; “vote for someone who knows what they can do, someone who can save us from the financial burden.” Touching on an issue that has become central in campaigns, Dashti noted, “We should not allow people who do not understand finance to tamper with the budget.
“Nor should we allow individuals who are responsible in dealing with the financial budget to use the financial budget for personal gains.”
“Why should we follow those who damage our financial budget, and steal the money of the public? There is another option: choose someone who will protect the public financial budget and enhance the budget!”
Dashti further stated that there is an “internal bleeding” in the country and that she is not going to offer an “aspirin to silence your pain to only kill you” as a member of parliament.
“I will opt for a long term alternative and choose to cure you.”
During the question and answer session following her address, particularly passionate but enraged voices emerged, where some expressed their frustration with the old faces of parliament.
One woman said she was “fed up with the old faces and that it is about time new faces took over.”
She further said, “We have been deceived, fooled and cheated by the old MPs,” and stressed, “We are suffering and are in desperate need of MPs who will promote social and financial justice.
“Kuwait has hit a plateau and something”s got to give,” she noted.
Another woman made a remark about Dashti”s strong foreign accent.
She noted: “Society often criticizes you (Dashti) for speaking in a Lebanese accent.
“I don”t understand why you come under scrutiny for such a reason. After all, people have television at home and typically watch the satellite channels, all of which speak in foreign accents.”
The woman”s comment was understood to be a positive comment, where she welcomed Dashti”s candidacy and believes that the candidate will be a forceful vehicle towards righteous deeds toward society.
Another frustrated woman spoke about property and about people whose houses was taken from them by the banks. She said that she read an article in Al Watan newspaper that there are many withdrawn properties and houses for sale.
“The inheritors are crying blood and are traumatic, because their houses are being taken from them. Other citizens are staying in small apartments after they used to occupy villas,” she said.
Another woman who was virtually in tears pled to the people “to opt for change and choose new faces, even if the new members of parliament will do nothing.
“The former parliament has tormented and killed me; please, give your votes to new faces, in the name of God, please, vote for change.”
Shimmering Sunrise
It’s not yet eight in the morning, and the temperature is almost 90°F / 32°C . . . this is the beginning of hot hot hot:

There was a group of fishermen in the water this morning, just before sunrise, using old fashioned nets; the water must be very warm now. The sun had to battle a thick layer of low lying clouds, and won the battle.

I don’t know if it shows up in this photo at all, but to the left, there is a bright spot with just a tiny slice of rainbow peeking through. 🙂 A good omen! Have a great day, Kuwait.
Forecast: Hot and Crabby
It isn’t my fault. I was born in the cold winter months in Alaska, and to this day, I thrive in cooler weather. When October comes to Kuwait and I can feel an occasional cool breeze on my face, I am in heaven for the next six months. When the rains come, I dance for joy.
So, alternatively, when I open the door to take a photo of the sunrise from my balcony, and it is as warm outside as it is inside, my heart sinks.
The sunrise this morning was awesome – lights and darks and sparkles all over the place:

What is not to love?

I’m trying not to be grumpy. I’m trying to think cool thoughts, and to be cool-headed. Keep me in your prayers, please, for sweetness of spirit, and for peace of spirit, and for super organizational skills.
Sunrise 26 April 2009
Last night, out for dinner, the air was not cool and refreshing. It was warm. The outdoor seating was thronged; for many, the temperatures are wonderful; for me, it is a little stale. Just the night before, we were outside and it was wonderful, still a tiny cool breeze now and then. Overnight, you can feel the inevitable approach of the scorching summer. It’s coming. It’s almost here.
Sunrise this morning was silvery. There are some fleecy little clouds up in the sky, but no, it doesn’t look like rain, only a little tease.

At 0700, it is already hot.

The pace is picking up, lists of things to do growing instead of shrinking . . . the pressure is on.
Horseback Riding Camp

“Whatever you might have heard from your kids” the camp director started, and AdventureMan and I looked at one another with concern, “it is just rumors. The counselors did not have a big drunken party, and we have the situation under control.”
We hadn’t heard anything. We were there to pick up our son and his best friend from Horseback Riding Camp. They were eight years old and this was their first time away. We had dropped them off a mere week before, at the clean clean little chalet camp in Southern Germany, where they would learn to ride and take care of their horses.
“So, son,” AdventureMan starts with that casual voice grown-ups use with their children when about to launch an interrogation, “tell us about the camp!”
We were driving back, and wanted to get a campers-eye-view of the week. Our eight-year-old son was exhausted and not very talkative; it was only during the following week that most of the details came out.
He hated horseback riding. He hated taking care of horses. The instruction they got was minimal to non-existent. Most days they missed their horse riding lessons because the counselor overslept. The kids got up and got their own breakfast – cereal – until the milk ran out, and then they ate it dry.
Horrors. We had done everything right. We had checked the camp references, had visited and inspected the camp before deciding to send him there, had met the counselors – horrors! In fact, our son enjoyed the week, but mostly because they had a TV, and no supervision. They spent most of the week watching TV.
In the following years, he went to other camps – adventure training camp, karate camps, Space Camp (that was the best organized) and then became a camp counselor himself, teaching karate. Our most graphic memories as parents, however, are of picking him up at horseback riding camp and learning how loosely organized and supervised it was, compared to what the brochure said and the inspection visit promised.

