Dust Storm Headache
It’s early Friday morning, WeatherUnderground Kuwait says it is overcast, but I have that dust storm headache and almost-wheeze that tells me this is more than just an overcast. There is something in the air that I am not meant to be breathing.
Although I live in a very modern building, which would appear sealed, little drifts of sand come in through creaks. I can feel a draft in the kitchen, my curtains are dingy with dust that has seeped through crevices in window openings.
It isn’t easy to show someone what living in the middle of a dust storm is like, but I am trying.
Here is the sunrise this morning at 0600:
An hour later, at 0700, it is 77°F / 25°C, and the particles in the air are magnifying the sun so that it looks like this:
These are unretouched photos, straight out of the camera. The day is mostly a bright yellow-grey.
Hot Dust Storm
106°F / 42°C and Hot and DUSTY. This is what it looks like at 3:30 PM:
The photo is not altered in any way. The orangey-yellow color is the real color of the sky. Totally weird. Big huge rolling waves coming in, good weekend to go shelling!
Home Schooling Muslims in America
The New York Times has this fascinating article:
LODI, Calif. — Like dozens of other Pakistani-American girls here, Hajra Bibi stopped attending the local public school when she reached puberty, and began studying at home.
Her family wanted her to clean and cook for her male relatives, and had also worried that other American children would mock both her Muslim religion and her traditional clothes.
“Some men don’t like it when you wear American clothes — they don’t think it is a good thing for girls,” said Miss Bibi, 17, now studying at the 12th-grade level in this agricultural center some 70 miles east of San Francisco. “You have to be respectable.”
Across the United States, Muslims who find that a public school education clashes with their religious or cultural traditions have turned to home schooling. That choice is intended partly as a way to build a solid Muslim identity away from the prejudices that their children, boys and girls alike, can face in schoolyards. But in some cases, as in Ms. Bibi’s, the intent is also to isolate their adolescent and teenage daughters from the corrupting influences that they see in much of American life.
About 40 percent of the Pakistani and other Southeast Asian girls of high school age who are enrolled in the district here are home-schooled, though broader statistics on the number of Muslim children being home-schooled, and how well they do academically, are elusive. Even estimates on the number of all American children being taught at home swing broadly, from one million to two million.
No matter what the faith, parents who make the choice are often inspired by a belief that public schools are havens for social ills like drugs and that they can do better with their children at home.
“I don’t want the behavior,” said Aya Ismael, a Muslim mother home-schooling four children near San Jose. “Little girls are walking around dressing like hoochies, cursing and swearing and showing disrespect toward their elders. In Islam we believe in respect and dignity and honor.”
Still, the subject of home schooling is a contentious one in various Muslim communities, with opponents arguing that Muslim children are better off staying in the system and, if need be, fighting for their rights.
Robina Asghar, a Muslim who does social work in Stockton, Calif., says the fact that her son was repeatedly branded a “terrorist” in school hallways sharpened his interest in civil rights and inspired a dream to become a lawyer. He now attends a Catholic high school.
“My son had a hard time in school, but every time something happened it was a learning moment for him,” Mrs. Asghar said. “He learned how to cope. A lot of people were discriminated against in this country, but the only thing that brings change is education.”
Many parents, however, would rather their children learn in a less difficult environment, and opt to keep them home.
You can read the rest of the article HERE
Sunrise 28 Mar 2008
It’s always good that the sun rises, but not every sunrise is that good. This morning, I am reminded of what we must be breathing:
The high at 0700 is 70°F / 21°C, and the week will be cooler, with high temperatures back down in the 90’s.
Kuwait Driver’s License
“oh, I can’t,” I was telling my friend, “I have to go get my driver’s license today.”
“I had a funny thing happen,” she responded. “When I went, I didn’t understand the guy too well and he said something like ‘how long do you want it for?’ and I said ‘three years’ and I got one for three years!”
“You’re kidding!” I said. “I’ve been having to go every year!”
It doesn’t make sense, but you just never know in Kuwait. Every year for two years now I have had to go get my eyes tested and get a new license. But you never know, maybe her company has some other agreement, and she gets a three year license. Some things you just can’t worry too much about or it will drive you crazy.
So I went and took the 30 second eye test and later that same day my husband brought home my new driver’s license – good for TEN years.
If I had known I was going to get a ten year driver’s license, I sure would have made sure they used a better photo than the one my sponsor provided them. AAAARRRRGGGHHH.
Ahmadi Singers, Orchestra and Pirates of Penzance
Woooo Hooooooooo Al Ahmadi Singers and Orchestra! I love Gilbert and Sullivan so much, I might have to buy tickets for all three nights! The Gala includes a dinner, and the following two nights do not, but the singing will be great all three evenings, I have been promised.
The last time I saw Pirates of Penzance was at the Qatar Academy, and the Emir’s son was the hero. 😉 He did it with a lot of panache.
Pirates of Penzance! See you there!
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.
Easter Monday Sunrise, March 24, 2008
It’s not that I am lazy, it is that with the coming of summer (two weeks of spring just isn’t long enough!) the sunrises don’t differ a lot from one another. It’s just one hot, sunny, hazy day after another.
(Sorry, yes that was cruel to my friends in the US and Europe who are struggling with the cold and snow and ice and wishing for a hot summer day!)
Happy Easter Monday!
Copy Shop
“I’m at the copy shop!” I shouted into the phone over the commotion in the background.
“Who are you with?” AdventureMan shouted back.
“No one! I am by myself!” I holler.
“By yourself? Why?” he asks.
“Why?” he responds, “why are you in the copy shop by yourself?”
“There are a lot of other people here, I meant I am not here with anyone. That’s what all the noise is about. They have a number machine, so I figured out how to get a number, but only me and one other buy took a number, everyone else just comes in and gets waited on, no taking numbers!”
Not only that, but in spite of the fact that there are already people waiting, some people, always men, will walk in and say in a loud voice “Excuse me! Excuse me!” or snap their fingers (I am not joking!) or say “I am ready now!” and expect to be taken right away, and I can see why, they are almost always taken right away. I guess they intimidate the guys behind the counter or something.
I held my number up to catch the eye of one of the copy-shop guys and immediately more noises happen, the numbers that incidate who is being waited on change and my number is up.
“Gotta go!” I say and take care of getting come copies made.
The next morning as we are dressing and catching up on what’s happening in one another’s lives, he says to me “I still don’t understand why you would sit and drink coffee all by yourself.”
I look at him in utter astonishment. From time to time, I do sit by myself in a coffee shop while I am waiting for a friend, or if my internet isn’t working, and I never think twice about it. But I hadn’t been anywhere near a coffee shop recently. What is he talking about?
“You remember yesterday, when I called you,” he continues. And I start laughing.
“Copy shop! Copy shop! Not coffee shop!”
And then we are both laughing.
Anything but Pedestrian
Yesterday on 5th ring, we saw the beginnings of the new pedestrian overpasses, which are anything but pedestrian in their design.
Look at that! Not only do they honor the architectural element of the wind tower tradition in Kuwait, but they will also allow pedestrians to cross safely to the other side. For all the derision we heap on highway planners here, they deserve a big pat on the back for these.
From Wikipedia on Windcatchers: A Wind Tower (Persian: badgir, Arabic: “barjeel” or badghir(from Persian)) is a structure seen on ancient buildings of the Middle East, particularly Iran and Bahrain. This acted like a natural air conditioner creating a soothing effect in the harsh conditions of the desert.
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