Lent and Laughter
“So how’s that workin’ for you?” cackles AdventureMan, on a roll. He is totally cracking himself up.
“Hey, where’s your wife, AdventureMan?” he goes on, his high story-telling voice as he goes on making up stories. “Oh, I had to send her back to the Us of A for cursing in the car during Lent.”
He is not even listening. He is on a roll. Oh, he thinks he is so funny.
Today is the first day of Great Lent, our 40 day season of repentance and looking inward, fasting and spiritual examination. AdventureMan has asked what sacrifice I will make, and I had just said that last year, giving up swearing in the car, one word in particular, while I was driving had been a real struggle, but that I had actually managed, mostly. Not perfectly, but mostly.
“This year,” I told him, “I am going to practice turning the other cheek, I am going to try to be a peaceful spirit on the road, I am raising the bar.”
That’s when he started cracking up. There was no stopping him.
He had already told me he is giving up liver and brains and kidneys for Lent, all foods he stays far away from anyway. AdventureMan doesn’t take sacrificing for Lent very seriously. “I’m going to fast the way Little Diamond describes in her blog, you know, like the Maronites,” he giggles, barely able to talk, “only instead of fasting from midnight to noon, I will fast from ten at night until ten in the morning!”
He is laughing so hard he can hardly hear me.
“That’s not a sacrifice!” I argue! “You are sleeping most of that time, and you don’t eat breakfast anyway! That’s not a sacrifice!”
‘You worry about YOUR sacrifices and I will worry about mine!” he says, and I know he is right.
The truth is, AdventureMan sacrifices every day of his life. He works hard to provide a good life for his family. He sacrifices his time and energy every single day. He goes to church with me willingly, he prays with me every morning. It’s enough.
“Because No One Wants to Know”
There is a chilling article on today’s BBC Health News on the silent epidemic of male suicide. Suicide, says the article, is outstripped as the leading cause of death among young men only by road deaths. I have often wondered how many road deaths are also a silent cry of despair?
The silent epidemic of male suicide
By Dan Bell
BBC News
Young men are taught not to talk about their problems
Whatever the individual reasons that drive people to suicide, the one thing that puts you most at risk is being a man under the age of 35.
Of the 13 people who killed themselves in South Wales over the past year, all but one were men aged under 27.
John Hogan, the father who threw himself off a hotel balcony in Greece, was aged 32. When his two brothers Stephen and Paul killed themselves, they were aged 17 and 35.
Suicide is the second most common way for a man between the ages of 15 and 34 to die. It is outstripped, only just, by road deaths.
Suicide ‘epidemic’
About 900 young men take their own lives each year, and they account for about 75% of all suicides in this age group.
“You’ve had what is effectively an epidemic of young male suicide,” says the National Director for Mental Health in England, Professor Louis Appleby. Between 1970 and 1998, the rate more than doubled. At its peak, five men were dying for every woman.
‘It was worse than we knew’
Yet according to Prof Appleby, less than 20% of young men who commit suicide have had any contact with either their GP or mental health services in the previous year. Quite simply, he says, “they don’t seek help when they have problems.”
If suicide is the second most serious public health issue for young men, why don’t we know about it?
According to Jane Powell, coordinator of the Campaign Against Living Miserably (CALM), the only national organisation that specifically reaches out to young men at risk of suicide, it is because no-one wants to know.
You can read the rest of the article HERE
Adventures in Banking
Sometimes when I am faced with a difficult task, I just put it off. I put it off and put it off – it’s not such a bad strategy, really, as sometimes the problem can go away, or be overcome by events, or solves itself. Most of the time, I reach some point where I am required, finally, to deal with the problem.
I needed money. I had money in my bank, but I didn’t know how to get it. I called the bank to ask how to get money moved from this account to that account.
“No problem, habeebti (dear one),” the customer services lady said, when I explained my problem. Not only did she solve my problem, but she gave me a grin that lasted for the rest of the day. I’ve never had a bank employee call me “dear one” before.
When I would need money, I would go in to the Women’s Bank. It was cool – only women, no important men pushing their way in front. Sometimes we would drink tea as I sat at the desk and filled out the withdrawal form. It all worked fine until they broke off a separate Islamic bank, and I was banking with the non-Islamic side, so I had to use the regular bank.
One time, when I was withdrawing funds to pay for a trip, the customer at the next customer service desk looked just like Saddam Hussein. The customer service woman at that desk was explaining to him that yes, he had checks but he could only write checks for the funds he had deposited in the bank. You could see he got the part about having checks, and writing checks, but this part about funds in the bank to cover the checks – what was that? He looked puzzled, and fierce, and angry, and he argued with the woman, and thought she was messing with him.
Now, I needed to have my name listed on an account my husband had set up for me. After months of putting off the inevitable, including trips to the bank to actually get it done, only to find that branch of the bank was closed, we finally got to the right bank, together, and the bank was opened.
We explained to the receptionist what we wanted, a joint account. He looked at my husband:
“You want her on your account?” (the tone was disbelief)
(Husband nods)
“But WHY??”
(We look at him in astonishment.)
“No. It is not possible.”
(We drop our jaws.)
Then he pats my husband on the back, laughs (he was joking) and takes us to the place where this is done.
We go through the routine again, with the teller. Again, we get astonishment.
We are sent to an office, where paperwork is prepared. In actuality, my name will not be on the account, but I will have access to the account. I don’t know why. No one could ever explain it, other than that is the way it works.
Just to be sure, once my name is – well, not on the account, but allowed to use the account – I give it a try, to make sure it works.
At first, it doesn’t, but then the customer service guy comes by and tells the teller it is OK and voila! I have money! Later in the week, I will try it at an ATM to see if this really works. I’ve gotten cynical. It’s not Kuwait; I have had trouble using ATMs in my own little home town, too. It’s like ATM voodoo.
This bank has small vases of flowers everywhere; the flowers look fresh. There is a system, with taking a number and waiting your turn, and even the very important man who tried to cut the line is told, very politely, that he must take a number. I’m impressed. The bank employees are all very polite, seem to know their jobs, and although it seems our seemingly simple – to us – request is outside their norm, they work hard to accomodate us. All in all, I would give the customer service at this bank an A.
But best of all, I secretly like it that the customer service woman on the telephone calls me “dear one.”
Hegemony
Here is what Wikipedia has to say about Hegemony:
Hegemony (pronounced [hə.ˈdʒe.mə.ni (Amer.), hɪ.ˈɡe.mə.ni (Brit.)])[1] (Greek: ἡγεμονία hēgemonía) is a concept that has been used to describe the existence of dominance of one social group over another, such that the ruling group—referred to as a hegemon—acquires some degree of consent from the subordinate, as opposed to dominance purely by force.[2] It is used broadly to mean any kind of dominance, and narrowly to refer to specifically cultural and non-military dominance, as opposed to the related notions of empire and suzerainty.
The processes by which a dominant culture maintains its dominant position: for example, the use of institutions to formalize power; the employment of a bureaucracy to make power seem abstract (and, therefore, not attached to any one individual); the inculcation of the populace in the ideals of the hegomonic group through education, advertising, publication, etc.; the mobilization of a police force as well as military personnel to subdue opposition.
If you want to learn more, you can read the complete article at Wikipedia on Hegemony.
Niemoeller and “When They Came for Me. . . “
Today’s quote from A.Word.A.Day:
Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the
tormentor, never the tormented.
-Elie Wiesel, writer, Nobel laureate (b.1928)
When I read this quote, I was reminded of Pastor Martin Niemoeller’s poem about Nazi Germany, “When They Came For Me:”
In Germany, they came first for the Communists, And I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Communist;
And then they came for the trade unionists, And I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a trade unionist;
And then they came for the Jews, And I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Jew;
And then . . . they came for me . . . And by that time there was no one left to speak up.”
We are all by nature cowards. We take the easy way out, we look the other way, we tell ourselves “later” I will do this or that, “later” I will get involved. When our nations and our character slide into the dumps, we have no one but ourselves to blame.
“Hello! My Name is Heather . . . “
Every now and then, one of my readers writes to me. Most of the time, it is on an issue, and behind the blog we have a great conversation. (I learn so much from you, my readers.) 🙂
Occasionally, I will get one that makes the little hairs on the back of my neck rise up. I wish I had saved the one I got that started “Hello! My name is Heather (last name) and I live in (small-town) Iowa, and I would like your permission to share your (wonderful) blog with my friends.”
She went on to tell me a little about herself. I don’t know why – there was something about the letter that made me uncomfortable, and I have learned to trust those feelings.
I wrote to her and told her she was welcome to share my site, that anyone could visit, they were welcome. I didn’t share any personal details in return.
Her next e-mail coming back told me a whole lot about her life, and . . . it didn’t ring true. I don’t know why. When your instincts are telling you something is not right, you just MUST listen.
At the end, she asked who I really was, and where I was from and more oh-now-that-we’re-such-good-friends kinds of questions. Bingo. It felt like the whole thing had been set up to ask me that very question. I wrote back, as I always do, that I blog as Intlxpatr for a reason, and that I protect my anonymity.
Funny. I never heard from “her” again. I don’t believe a word she said, including I don’t know that I was corresponding with a woman, much less a woman named Heather.
Why on earth would anyone target me?
My friends, there are crazy people out there, people who think differently from you and me. No matter how good someone sounds, no matter how trustworthy, this is a virtual world, not a real world, and if you gut tells you to beware – then listen. Listen to that gut feeling, listen to the hairs on the back of your neck, and listen to that uneasiness . . . something is not right.
Given enough time, most scams and cons just can’t keep up the deception.
I once worked for an organization which would give emergency loans. I was pretty good, and pretty fast at putting a loan together, and verifying that the loan was needed. One day, a man came in with a serious problem, and with him was his boss, verifying his need. He had all the right papers, too. I made the loan.
Not two months later his boss came in to me with a hangdog look and said “I have to tell you about (so-and-so).”
He had been dealing drugs and had serious problems. His boss had vouched for him. The guy was clean cut and articulate and knew how to present himself. He had all the right papers – and both his boss and I were totally fooled. The boss brought the guy in to apologize to me – he was on his way to jail and he would never repay the loan; I had to write it off. The con-man looked at me and apologized sincerely, and gave me one piece of really really great advice:
“The reason they call us con-men is because we are really good at what we do. We make you believe us.”
Con-men fail in many other areas of their lives – anything that requires consistency and a long term commitment. They can’t perform under scrutiny over time – it’s mostly wires and mirrors and smoke, and it all falls apart when it is examined too closely.
Con-men also create drama that make you feel YOU have to commit now. They have deadlines, and terrible consequences. When you feel that happening in your life, take a deep breath. Slow things down. When you feel unduly rushed, when someone is pushing you for a quick decision on a major issue – that is the time to SLOW WAY DOWN, to examine closely, to give a situation some time. There are con-men and con-women in every culture.
“Heather” – or whoever “she” really was – has agendas you and I can’t begin to imagine. She/He may need money (they often do!) or your connections. He or she may just like messing with people’s lives.
Listen to your instincts, and take your time. Take a deep breath, relax – YOU set your own timeline. Ask around, ask if anyone you know has had experience with a similar approach, especially on the internet. Protect yourself. Protect yourself. Protect yourself.
The Qatteri Cat Sleeps Through Winter
You’ve been asking about QC. There isn’t much to tell you. He decided it was too cold, and all he does is sleep. Occasionally, he will wake up, take a walk to the food bowl and water dish, make a visit to the kitty litter, but then it’s back to sleep – waiting for warmer weather.
Yesterday, as I was working, he was following me around, “miaow, miaow” which meant “please sit down and provide a warm place for me to fall asleep” so I made him a little bed in the work room, and it wasn’t his first choice, but he made do, keeping me company while he sleeps through winter.
Leon: Friends in High Places
After reading two stinkers, I needed a read I could rely on for a good fix. I needed escape, mixed with good food, good clothes and some social awareness. I needed Guido Brunetti, Donna Leon’s Venetian detective, and his smart, savvy wife Paula, and his family meals of pasta with soft shell crabs and risi e bisi, his children, his disgust for the politics that impinge on his doing his job.
If you think Kuwait has “wasta” (doing business by connections, influence, calling in favors), you aint’ seen nuthin’ till you’ve seen how Byzantine Venetians operate.
Friends in High Places opens with Commissario Brunetti lying on his couch re-reading Anabasis when he receives a visit from a building inspector, who determines that the apartment he owns, on the very top of a building in Venice, was probably built illegally – there are no plans or restoration approvals on file at the bureaucracy regulating residential buildings in Venice – and may have to be torn down.
Wouldn’t that be a shock? It’s a shock to Brunetti and to his family, just as it would be to us. We learn all the ins and outs of housing codes, the impact of becoming part of the EEC, and how the clever Venetians devise ways around the codes, all while Brunetti is investigating one murder – and then three other murders.
It is a VERY satisfying book. I will share with you a lengthy quote from Friends in High Places as Guido and Paola discuss how to deal with the problem:
At no time did it occur to him, as it did not occur to Paola, to approach the matter legally, to find out the names of the proper offices and officials and the proper steps to follow. Nor did it occur to either of them that there might be a clearly defined bureaucratic procedure by which they could resolve this problem. If such things did exist or could be discovered, Venetians ignored them, knowing that the only way to deal with problems like this was by means of conoscienze: acquaintances, friendships, contacts and debts built up over a lifetime of dealing with a system generally agreed, even by those in its employ, perhaps especially by those in it’s employ, prone to the abuses resultant from centuries of bribery, and encumbered by a Byzantine instinct for secrecy and lethargy.
I am sorry to tell you that the only copy of this I could find on Amazon.com cost $99.98. I must have bought this one in England, where, I promise you, it was the normal cost of a paperback book.
I will warn you in addition, I was looking forward to reading a second Leon novel, Quietly in their Sleep, only to discover when I started that I had already read it, as The Death of Faith. The books published by Leon in England are often retitled for the American market. Leon fans, beware!
Kuwait: Women Leading? Not Permitted!
In today’s (17 January 2007) Kuwait Times is an article entitled MPs still divided over no-confidence motion. You’d think this issue would be put to rest by Minister of Education Nouriya al-Sabeeh’s stellar presentation, meeting her “grillers” with calm dignity and restraint, and with facts and figures. After the grilling, her accusers admitted to newspapers that they didn’t have the votes for a no-confidence resolution, and many spoke of her in admiring tones.
In today’s paper, this issue once again rears its ugly head, and buried deep in the article (read it for yourself by clicking on the blue type above) is this paragraph:
“The Secretary General of the Thawabit Gathering Mohammad Hayef Al-Metairi asked Islamist MPs to support voting for a no-confidence motion because women MPs are not permitted to hold leading positions according to Islamic principals.“
Women not leading is an Islamic principle?
Kuwaiti Women, Minors from Cradle to Grave
In an article in today’s Kuwait Times sure to raise discussions throughout Kuwait, staff writer Ahmad Al-Khaled brings up the laws requiring Kuwaiti women to have a husband /father/ guardian present to apply for a passport and other legal papers:
Published Date: January 15, 2008
By Ahmad Al-Khaled, Staff writer
KUWAIT: The issue of gender equality under the law has come under fire of late after an exasperated Kuwaiti woman wrote to a local Arabic newspaper telling the tale of her frustrated quest to renew her passport and was told the law required her to be accompanied by her male guardian. “It is frustrating that we are not considered equipped to act as our own guardians in 2008,” said a middle-aged Kuwaiti wife and mother of five, Um Talal, who read the woman’s letter describing how she was denied the right to renew her passport unless her husband accompanied her to the ministry.
While Kuwait is a Muslim nation, Kuwaiti law is not solely Sharia based, although it uses Sharia as a primary source of legislation according to the Constitution. Adult-aged Kuwaiti women are required under the law to be accompanied by their husband or father to renew their passports. If their father and husband are deceased or should they be divorced from their husband, they may be required to provide authorities with proof of their male guardian’s death or proof of their marital status.
“Why should we be required to offer such proof. It is insulting to be treated as if we Kuwaiti women are in need of guardianship. Shame on the government for continuing to allow such a law to remain in the books,” said a 30 something Fala Jassem. “It is not Islamic to treat women poorly, we are not children! Shame on anyone that calls this law Islamic,” said 65-year-old Bedour Bader.
While Kuwaiti women speaking to Kuwait Times were staunchly against the law, Kuwaiti men were divided with some going so far as to call the law a necessary requirement to keep their women protected. “It is a husband’s duty to act as a guardian for his wife. We must lead our families and this includes the wife,” said 53-year-old father of four Abdullah Nasser.
You can read the rest of the article HERE.
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