“We Have Lost Our Moral Compass”
There is something I need to confess, as I print my friend Amer’s most recent editorial from the Arab Times in Kuwait.
Amer is writing about the great loss of civility in Kuwait, a country where trade routes crossed, merchants ruled and differences were tolerated. While I lived in Kuwait, I was horrified at the flaunting of traffic rules and the reckless endangerment of the population because some people believed the laws did not apply to them.
Amer, with a few differences specific to Islam, your editorial, sadly, could be equally well applied many places in the United States today, where some people believe they should not have to patiently stand in line, or obey the traffic rules, or protect the quality of the food supplies or water sources that provide for the communities.
When we fail to restrain ourselves and our selfish greediness, we harm others – but we also harm ourselves. We damage the fabric of society that protects us from the chaos of anarchy. Well said, Amer.
We Have Lost Our Moral Compass
EVERY Ramadan we are inundated by articles and features highlighting the proper means of fasting, alms-giving, praying and other essential pillars of Islam. I am not going to do that.
Most citizens are decent, God-fearing individuals trying to improve their lot and the lives of their loved ones. I believe the Kuwaiti character in essence is one of integrity and generosity — we are a charitable people, evident by the Ramadan dinners we sponsor and the alms we pay (Zakat) — indeed we are almost always the first to rush in aid of others, local or internationally. We should be proud of this trait.
We are, however, far from perfect. Praying, fasting and spending alms on the needful are not enough to qualify us or other societies as superior Muslims.
Our Prophet (Peace Be Upon Him) stated, ‘The best amongst you are those who have the best manners and character.’
Recently, we have all been witness to a drastic deterioration in the way people treat one another and conduct their lives — a certain segment lack the proper traits, either due to absence of decent rearing, non-implementation of laws (which they view as ‘toothless’) or the gradual radicalism in society which encourages gender segregation, intolerance of foreigners and non-Islamic ideals and views.
Our society seems to have lost its moral compass; gaze around you, materialism and power is valued over integrity and honesty; harshness in tone is embraced, over humility and etiquette. An individual’s caliber is immaterial; what matters is how one can ‘benefit’ another, the extent of personal influence and how many laws one can break with impunity.
On the behavioral level, this is evident all around us, nothing is respected; people don’t wait their turn, they drive erratically, they walk into elevators without waiting for others to exit, they are rude to foreign workers, they disturb women in malls and public places, they cause a ruckus in movie theatres, road and traffic signs are ignored, municipality laws are ignored, smoking signs are ignored. The list goes on…
This personal methodology is poisoning society — we are all victims of and responsible for this collective, ethical Achilles’ heel.
Follow the law, pay your bills on time, stand in a queue, follow road signs and you’re regarded as a dimwit.
These days you get a taste of good manners when you travel to countries like the United States and the European Union where parents educate their children ‘not to point at others’, ‘scream’ and wait patiently for their turn in a queue, saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’
Even progressive GCC states such as the UAE — eager to attract foreigners and investment — do not tolerate any law breaking: speeding tickets affect the validity of your car license and insurance premiums; if unruly youths disturb or sexually harass women in public, security arrests them, shaves their heads, splashes their mugs in the papers, for example. People think twice before embarking on any moves which might offend the personal space or respect of others.
It’s the atmosphere of tolerance, openness and the implementation of laws that truly make an Islamic society, not the number of mosques built or how many foreigners converted to Islam. Where is Islam if society deems Expired Food Merchants and MPs and their ‘state benefactors’ — who dabble in tens of millions of corrupt money — for example, as ‘untouchables’?
People’s behavior forces one to ditch the law because the law is not really on one’s side, it’s not really being enforced — it’s an illusion. Additionally, we need to start embarking on ‘naming and shaming’ lawbreakers and criminals instead of shielding their identities from the public, who have a right to know.
The state apparatus — traditionally infatuated with forming committees, hosting seminars and running bloated campaigns — needs to execute them properly, namely by implementing a two-track initiative: On the one hand formulating an awareness campaign on ‘Islamic Moderation And Tolerance’ by highlighting the work of groundbreaking pioneers and world-renowned Moderate Islamic voices such as our very own Dr Naif Al-Mutawa (creator of the comic book series ‘The 99’) and Dr Reza Aslan, author of ‘No God But God,’ among other accomplished intellectual luminaries — so that younger generations may be able to benefit from their stimulating, refreshing views. Simultaneously, on the other track enforcing Civic and Constitutional Laws preaching freedom of speech, equality and appropriate justice — so individuals may learn to respect state laws and tolerate differing views – they need to realize grave repercussions are incoming, leading to imprisonment or worse, if they indulge in any lawbreaking or negative antisocial behavior. Ultimately, the State needs to step up to the plate and protect society, lest individuals take the law into their own hands and mob rule surfaces.
Islam without proper laws, justice for all and proper education is abridged, toothless — as a society we need to instill the values amongst ourselves and future generations, not just censure ‘external influences,’ the media or the West for our ills (many which are self created). Moreover, we need as a community to re-examine the way we conduct ourselves and treat others — to realize that no good can come from a society that obliquely persuades fraud, dishonesty and ill-treatment of others.
By: Amer Al-Hilal
The Value of the Trivial
“Be sure to use your full name, First, maiden and married, on your quilt labels,” our presenter instructed us.
Oh-oh. I’ve been lucky just to get labels on my quilts, and I haven’t used my maiden name at all.
“Years from now, if someone is trying to track you as a quilter, it will help to have your maiden name to distinguish you from other quilters who may have similar names,” she continued.
OK. So now I will include my maiden name. (For my Moslem friends, it is our custom to take our husband’s names when we marry. Some women don’t, but even now, the majority do. I know, I know, it seems backward to you, it is irrational, it is just the way it is. We also don’t have marriage contracts.)
At lunch with a long-time friend this week, she mentioned she still has her mother’s diaries. I suggested she offer them to a major university near where my friend grew up, to their historical collection, and my friend said “oh, it’s just daily weather, who’s sick, stuff like that.”
Stuff like that is just exactly what historians treasure. When I was at university, I worked for a time in the copying department of the library, and I specialized in the historical collections, many of which were from people who came west. The papers were fascinating – letters home, lists of supplies they asked to have sent West, to-do lists, old photos. The scraps of paper you and I throw away – there in the Northwest collection.
They become valuable, at least for historical research, for writing period fiction, for medical research – because we do throw them away, and so few survive.
Keeping up with this blog has become more problematic. I just don’t have the time in my life I used to have. My life is interesting to me, but now that I am no longer living in exotic locations, I don’t believe I am so interesting to others. My internal debate is whether or not to continue. I would let it go in a heartbeat and not miss the time, but . . . I think I would miss your feedback.
I’m not writing this for you. I’m sort of writing more for my own record-keeping, it’s why I include news articles and scraps of daily life (not my own) and all the oddities and irrationalities that catch my eye. I love having a place to store it all (this blog) and I love your comments, which can sometimes completely turn me around in point of view; you give me perspectives I hadn’t considered.
The point of all this is the ephemeral nature of our daily lives, and the records of our lives. There are things worth keeping.
I wish someone in Kuwait were doing oral histories on the older people who were living there ‘before oil’.
“Feels Like . . . “
AdventureMan is at a meeting, and I had been thinking lunch at the beach later today when he gets home. At “feels like 120°F,” I think maybe not the beach today.
Oddly, while the temperatures are high, it hasn’t felt like the worst days of summer. I have tomatoes growing again, so some of our nights must be going below 70°F, and with the recent rains, the roses are blooming again and the lantana in the former pool area (not our doing, the original owner) is going bananas. The bees are busy, and I am hoping they will fertilize the eggplant, so the plant I have been nursing all summer will not have been for nothing. It FEELS like Fall is coming, in spite of the temperatures.
On my Weather Underground home page, I have temperatures for Doha and Kuwait also listed. Doha, nine hours ahead, has almost the same exact temperature at 6 pm that Pensacola has at 9 am. God’s mercy is showing in Doha, cooling the evening for the Ramadan celebrations. 🙂
Arabian Gulf Legacy
In today’s Lectionary, Psalm 107, there is the following verse:
41 but he raises up the needy out of distress,
and makes their families like flocks.
My heart goes back to Qatar, and I think of “my” family there, a family who adopted me, slowly but surely. The woman, who taught me Arabic, has twelve children. “Twelve children!” I used to think, was about ten too many, but I learned so much from this woman, and from her family. Every day she and her husband would sit together. They discussed each child. No child in that family was lost or overlooked; they cared for each and every one. I, too, know each child. I was particularly close to the oldest girls, but there was one young son who hit me on my bottom during my very first visit, hard, as I was bending over to put on my shoes. While everyone else looked on in horror, he just grinned up at me, and I couldn’t help but laugh. I pray for each and every one in this family, and they pray for me. Relationships don’t get much more intimate than that, I think, that we pray for one another, and we have some idea what to pray for.
And while they are not wealthy, they have enough, and they are a happy family. When one has a need, the others sacrifice, and I never hear a grumble of a complaint. Each has an assurance that when their turn comes – as it comes to all of us – their family will be there to assist them.
We said goodbye to our Saudi friends this week, on their way back to the desert kingdom to finish Ramadan and celebrate Eid with their family. They have been such a blessing in our lives here, and we wish them well. They left a lot of last minute things for me, a coffee and tea set with coffee cups, trays for serving drinks, spices, bags – the detritus of a life of moving, there are always things which still have use but for which you have no room in your packing crate. I am starting a lending closet with them; as other families arrive, I will offer them up to new arrivals who need the same pieces for their daily life and entertaining. The spices I will share with one of my co-mother-in-laws who makes a chicken biryani they call Chicken Perlow. It is moister than biryani, but has much the same flavor. Oh yummm.
As our Saudi friends depart, we have new friends arriving and we will have them for dinner tomorrow night. We have met them, one is Algerian, the other is Omani; as the Ramadan fast ended, the Algerian was trying to eat a piece of bruschetta with a knife and form. “You are so French!” I laughed, and told him we eat this with our fingers, which greatly relieved him, as he was standing, and to try to cut a piece of French break with a fork while standing is close to impossible. Both are a lot of fun, and while we will miss our departing Saudi friends, we are looking forward to these new friends.
One thing that pleases me greatly. I asked my Saudi friend how she was received when she went out, as she is fully covered, abaya and scarf and niqab (face covering). She said she had been warned before leaving Saudi Arabia that people would be unkind to her, but never once did she run into this, that people were always kind, “in the hospital, in the Wal-Mart, in the shopping, everywhere.” It just made me so proud to be living in Pensacola.
Welcome, Ramadan! Ramadan Mubarak
Or do you say Ramadan Mubarakhom if you mean ya’ll? 🙂 I know my Muslim friends have awaited this season with eagerness. Who would think? At the very hottest time of the year, our Muslim friends will not be eating, drinking, or smoking cigarettes from dawn to dusk. This is the time of year when if you do something evil, you cannot blame Satan, because he is banned, the evil you do comes from inside your heart. You cannot backstab (gossip).
You meet with family and friends and eat foods that delight the heart when the sun goes down. You spend the month in holy scripture, refining your soul to become more pleasing to God/Allah.
I wish you all the very best in your holy month of Ramadan, time with God, time with family, and time in the stillness of your soul connecting to the great Creator. 🙂
Waking Up Cold
I shivered as I woke up; about a thousand gulls screaming past, up from the water, circling the town, loudly gossiping. It is a shiver of delight – I can sleep with the window open, no air conditioning needed, and the morning air is very cool. I am in heaven, also called Seattle.
It is so totally different coming in from Pensacola. As I showered the night before, I was thinking “about now I would be landing in Amsterdam, with several hours wait for my next flight. Being able to sleep in my own bed, get up early in the morning, five minutes to the airport, a breezy check-in and then a bare half day of traveling – so easy.”
Er . . . almost. I still trip the full inspection triggers, and got the complete pat down yesterday. The TSS lady was very professional, although much more thorough than ever before. It is annoying, but on the level of swatting a mosquito away; one minute later you’ve forgotten all about it.
Flight leaves late out of Pensacola, I have to RUN in Atlanta to make my connection, but it’s good to get some aerobic exercise in the middle of a long day of flying. 🙂 Unfortunately, my bag doesn’t make it, so when I reach Seattle they tell me it will come in on the next flight and they will deliver it. After all these years of back and forth, I have learned to have a nightgown and a change of clothes with me, and there are stores where I can pick up mascara and small things I need short-term. The bag arrives in the early evening, so all is well.
As I entered the Seattle airport from the A-concourse, I had a big grin. Where am I? This looks so much like Doha; there is a roundabout near the airport with the same collection of water gourds:
Seattle is cool and beautiful, and has rolled out a sunny day for my arrival. It’s always a thrill to see the Seattle skyline, and even more of a thrill when the roads are dry:
I pick up lunch on my way to my Mom’s, Ivar’s, as is our tradition, oh yummmm – halibut and chips for Mom, and a Salmon Ceasar for me.
I guess I’m a little more tired than I thought – it was an early flight. I grab a quick nap, and I feel like myself again. Mom and I head out shopping – we have a week of errands and appointments ahead of us, and some fun stuff too. Mom turns 88 this week – something to celebrate!
The ExPat Dilemma
A short while back, I told you about a book I read and loved, Cutting For Stone. You know it is a really good book when, months later, you are still thinking about it.
What I am thinking about today is how the main character writes about when he got to New York, and was homesick for Ethiopia, a country where he was born, but was always an expat. He spoke several Ethiopian dialects, he ate Ethiopian foods, he was affected by Ethiopian politics – but he was never Ethiopian. He was an Indian expat, working in Ethiopia, with Ethiopians, but always an expat.
He is in the US, and is desperately homesick for Ethiopia, and at the same time, he wryly notes that he is homesick for a country-not-his-own.
We’ve been away from Kuwait for two years now, but every now and then I am disoriented, missing Kuwait. It is hot now, for one thing, and it is so hot on some days that it feels like Kuwait. There are times my mind slips, and I am crossing the street near the Afghani shops, heading into the Mubarakiyya.
Today I am working on a new quilt, and I need a purple. I see just the right one, lurking on my purples shelf, and as I unfold it, a note falls out, from my good friend, and it says “(Intlxpatr) With love I dye this for you.”

I never cry, or hardly ever. I’m not crying now. I am in that fragile state where I COULD cry, my throat is a little thick and my eyes are a little watery, and I never saw it coming. It totally caught me by surprise.
I miss my friend. I miss Kuwait. I am home, and yet, I am homesick for a country-not-my-own, and a life I used to have.
Jerry’s Drive-In, Pensacola
We pass it all the time. Jerry’s BBQ Drive-In. People kept telling us we had to go there, everyone goes there. When we were asking about the best hamburger in Pensacola, the word came back: Jerry’s.


When people tell you about Jerry’s it’s like in Qatar when people tell you “it’s near where Parachute Roundabout used to be,” because it isn’t a drive-in anymore, and they also don’t seem to have a lot of BBQ. Jerry’s IS like a time capsule, you walk in, you wait about 15 minutes for a table at lunch, or you try to find a seat at the counter, and it’s like you’ve walked back into the 1950’s. But it isn’t a theme restaurant, it’s just that nothing has changed. When we looked at the menu, we got a big shock – we don’t even remember prices like these. It would be hard to spend $20 on a lunch for two, unless you toss back a beer or two, and we saw a few people doing that.
It seems like a place where people are known – like people eat there all the time. We heard a many greeted by name. AdventureMan said if he were a widower, he would probably eat there all the time. It looked like the kind of place where you could get a good meal and a kind and friendly greeting.
Service was prompt, efficient, courteous and friendly.
AdventureMan said it was one of the best hamburgers he has ever eaten. He compared it to Red Robin and said it isn’t so big, and it doesn’t look so fancy, but it is the perfect size, perfectly cooked and he thinks it is hand packed, it had a great texture. He ordered it with ‘the works’ and was surprised that ‘the works’ doesn’t include a slice of onion, but it did include lettuce, tomato and pickle.
I had the BLT, which came on toast, with lettuce and tomato, nothing fancy, just a BLT, but a good BLT, generous on the bacon:
We ordered sides of hush puppies, baked beans and cole slaw, so we could see how they compare. Hush puppies were like AdventureMan used to eat when he was a kid, the kind people make at home, no surprises, no corn, no jalepenos, no sugar, just plain hush puppies, exactly in character with this slice-out-of-time. The cole slaw was wonderful. I am not a fan of mayonnaise-y cole slaw, and this one was a little vinegary, just what I love. The baked beans were divine. Not a lot of chunks of anything, just plain beans, baked to melting in a sweet tangy sauce. The best of the ’50’s.
They are undergoing renovations to add more seating room and waiting room – business is good, and they need more space to handle their many loyal customers. At the corner of Perry and Cervantes, in East Pensacola Heights, right at the stoplight. AdventureMan says this is the kind of restaurant they feature in Southern Living magazine, or Garden and Guns, one of the hidden gems of Pensacola.
Answered Prayer: Please Lord, Don’t Let it be a Muslim
In the aftermath of the horrific events in Norway, I was praying along with all my immigrant friends – “Please, Lord, don’t let it be a Muslim.” It wasn’t. Just another hater, this one has blue eyes and blonde hair and seems to be a Christian conservative. This one hates for his own reasons. It doesn’t matter much what those reasons are, does it, to the grieving families whose children were slaughtered, or the grieving nations whose peace is destroyed?
The 32-year-old Norwegian man who allegedly went on a shooting spree on the island of Utoya has been identified as Anders Behring Breivik, according to multiple reports.
The Daily Mail and Sky News were among those to report the suspect’s name. According to witnesses, the gunman was dressed as a police officer and gunned down young people as they ran for their lives at a youth camp.
Police said Friday evening that they’ve linked the youth camp shooting and Oslo bombing. Breivik is believed to have acted alone.
Norwegian TV2 reports that Breivik belongs to “right-wing circles” in Oslo. Swedish news site Expressen adds that he has been known to write to right-wing forums in Norway, is a self-described nationalist and has also written a number of posts critical of Islam.
A Twitter account for Breivik has surfaced, though it only has one post, this quote from philosopher John Stuart Mill: “One person with a belief is equal to the force of 100 000 who have only interests.” The tweet was posted on July 17.
On a Facebook account that Norwegian media outlets have attributed to Breivik, he describes himself as having Christian, conservative views. He says he enjoys hunting, the games World of Warcraft and Modern Warfare 2, and lives in Oslo. He also lists political analysis and stock analysis as interests.















