Women in Pakistan
Last but not least from today’s Kuwait Times are two articles from recent news in Pakistan, both involving women and the men who (seem to) own them:
Police Seek Pakistanis Pressing Woman to Hand Over Her Daughter
Karachi: Police are seeking ten men, including several tribal elders, accused of pressuring a Pakistani woman to hand over her teenage daughter as payment for a 16 year old poker debt, officials said yesterday.
In the latest case highlighting how conservative customs threaten women’s rights in Pakistan, Nooran Umrani alleges that despite paying off her late husband’s debt of 10,000 Pakistani rupees, she was threatened with harm if she failed to hand over her daughter, Rasheeda. The 17 year old was to be surrendered as a bride for the son of Lal Haider, the man who won the card game years before, Umrani told reporters . . . Police said yesterday that the mother and daughter were in their protection and that an investigation was opened against Haider, his son, and eight others. . .
Nooran said her husband was a gambler who ran up the debt at a poker game when Rasheeda was 1 year old. He promised Haider that he would get Rasheeda in lieu of payment when she grew up, Nooran said. . . .
President General Pervez Musharraf has vowed to give women more rights in line with his policy to project Pakistan as a moderate, progressive Islamic nation. In December, Musharraf signed into law a bill that makes it easier to prosecute rape cases in the courts, and the country’s ruling party recently introduced a bill to outlaw forced marriages, including under tribal custom in which woman are married off in order to settle disputes.
My comment: The debt was paid. And what was the father thinking?? giving away his daughter to cover his debts? I can’t wrap my mind around it.
Pakistani Sells Wife’s Kidney to Buy Tractor
Karachi: Pakistani police have arrested two men after a village woman complained that her husband and relatives had sold one of her kidneys in order to buy a tractor, police said yesterday. Although her kidney had been removed 18 months earlier, the woman named Safia only learnt it was missing after seeking treatment for a urinary tract problem in January. “She had said she was three months pregnant when her husband, Shakeel Ahmed beat her and then took her to the hospital for treatment,” said Mohammad Akram, duty officer at Noushera Jadeed police station in Punjab province. “But at the hospital, her husband, in connivance with three other people, sold her kidney to buy the tractor,” he said. Unlike many other parts of the world, including neighboring India, there is no law in Pakistan banning the trade in organs. Poverty-ridden Pakistanis living in rural areas sell their kidneys to pay off debts or raise money for their families. Sick but wealthy Pakistanis, and foreigners from the Gulf, Britain and Canada flock to private hospitals in Pakistan for kidney transplants, made possible by these donors.
My comment: Seems his wife is just another revenue-raising resource to Shakeel Ahmed. If asked, she might have even agreed, but it would be nice to be asked, not to discover it 18 months later. The news article says he was arrested. I wonder if he committed a crime under Pakistani law?
On a Lighter Note: Exhibitionist Held
God bless the reporters of crime news in the Kuwait Times, in the midst of all that horror, they occasionally find an article that is almost purely hilarious:
Exhibitionist Held
Farwaniya police arrested an Arab expatriate after he put on an artificial male organ on his own to seduce female passers-by. The organ, which was too huge to be true, drew shocked gasps, not only from females but also from all around. The expat however shrank when he saw the police and was subdued after a hot chase.
My comment: *Dying laughing.* From beginning to end. The title. *Gasping for breath* he “shrank” *howling* and was subdued after a “hot” chase. Kill me now! This reporter is too funny!
Isn’t Sodomy Considered Perversion?
Two articles from the Kuwait Times crime pages, but a daily occurrence:
February 27, 2007
Kuwaiti boy Sodomized
A Kuwaiti living in the Jaber Al-Ali area recently filed a complaint that a man offered his younger brother a lift while he was walking in the Mubarak Al-Kabeer area. He said the man then drove into the desert where he sodomized the boy after threatening him with a knife and also shot nude pictures of him.
February 28, 2007
Bedoons, Kuwaitis scuffle over attempted ‘sodomy’
Kuwait: Two bedoons travelling in a car in Riqqa spotten an eleven-year-old Kuwaiti boy standing in front of his house, and decided to kidnap and sodomize him. One of them alighted and tried to force the boy to get inside the car, but the boy started screaming; alerting other boys in the neighborhood who wrestled with the bedoons and managed to pin them down until the police arrived. However, the boy’s father when informed on the situation along with his relatives rushed to the police station where they encountered the bedoons’ relatives. Both groups were then involved in a scuffle. The boy’s father then stabbed one of the bedoons several times. The victim had to be admitted to the intensive care unit at Adan hospital. Police arrested the boy’s father and referred him to the relevant authorities.
My comment and question: In our holy book, Jesus says that the very worst punishment in the afterlife is for anyone who harms one of the little ones, one of the “innocents,” who damages that innocence in any way. I am betting the Qu’ran says something similar. (I welcome your feedback on this, because I would like to know the sura’a.)
And aren’t Bedoon’s MORE religiously conservative than other Kuwaitis? How does this track?
In western culture, men who ‘bugger’ other men are considered less than manly. Is this not also true in Islam?
Is sodomy not considered a perversion in Islam?
What is the penalty for sodomy in Kuwait, and how is the penalty enforced?
Good Outcome – Check Your Boats!
Today, on my way home from grocery shopping, I was at a stoplight, and a guy with a boat was trying to enter traffic from a boat parking lot on the gulf. All of a sudden, the tarp covering the back of the boat was boiling and twisting, and then, just as the truck was starting to enter traffice, out from under the tarp popped a frantic, scrawny little black and white cat, desperate to escape. He twisted himself out from under the cover, hit the road, and fortunately chose to dash in the direction of the boatyard, not the traffic.
The guy driving the truck with the boat attached never even knew what had happened.
If you have a boat that you keep parked out where cats might think it a good place to catch a snooze, you might want to check inside your boats before you drive away. At least this little cat was able to escape back into his known territory. Other little cats might not be so lucky.
Bureaucrats Joke
A Department of Agriculture representative stopped at a farm and said to the old farmer, “I’m here to inspect your farm.” The old farmer said, “You’d better not go out in that field.”
The Ag representative said in a demanding tone, “I have the authority of the U. S. Government behind me. See this card, I am allowed to go wherever I wish on agricultural land.”
So the old farmer went about his chores. In a few minutes, he heard loud screams and saw the Department of Agriculture rep running for his life, headed for the fence. Close behind, and gaining with every step, was the farmer’s prize bull, nostrils flaring, madder than a full nest of hornets.
The old farmer cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled out, “Show Him Your Card! Show Him Your Card!”
Egypt blogger jailed for ‘insult’
From BBC News:
An Egyptian court has sentenced an internet blogger to four years’ prison for insulting Islam and the president.
Abdel Kareem Soliman’s trial was the first time that a blogger had been prosecuted in Egypt.
He had used his weblog to criticise the country’s top Islamic institution, the al-Azhar university and President Hosni Mubarak, whom he called a dictator.
A human rights group called the verdict “very tough” and a “strong message” to Egypt’s thousands of bloggers.
Mr Soliman, 22, was tried in his native city of Alexandria. He blogs under the name Kareem Amer.
A former student at al-Azhar, he called the institution “the university of terrorism” and accused it of suppressing free thought.
The university expelled him in 2006 and pressed prosecutors to put him on trial.
During the five-minute court session the judge said Soliman was guilty and would serve three years for insulting Islam and inciting sedition, and one year for insulting Mr Mubarak.
Egypt arrested a number of bloggers who had been critical of the government during 2006, but they were all freed.
“This is a strong message to all bloggers who are put under strong surveillance that the punishment will very strong,” Hafiz Abou Saada of the Egyptian Human Rights Organisation told Associated Press.
Donna Leon: Read and Savor
When I tell you about Donna Leon, I am really introducing you to a friend. I can’t remember when we met, but I can tell you that I seek her out whenever I can. Just listing her books, I realized there were several I hadn’t seen and I ordered them immediately, from the Amazon re-sellers.
“Why the resellers?” you are asking. Donna Leon is not that easy to find, in the United States. Some of the books in her series seem to have been printed only in the UK, which is a pity, because The Donna Leon books really need to be read in order.
While they can be a quick read, they are better read slowly and savored. It’s not that hard. Her humor is subtle, sometimes even sly. Commissario Guido Brunetti, her main character, lives in Venice. He has a family, a sweet wife – Paola, and a daughter and a son. He eats Venetian meals, he lives in an illegal Venetian apartment, he has a glass of wine or two with his lunch. It helps to read the books in order, as his children grow from childhood to teen-agers, and to grow older with him as he solves his cases.
But in Donna Leon’s books, solving the cases is not the goal. As often as not, even while Brunetti solves the case, justice is not served. The books are about the living conditions and social realities of life in Venice, and in Italy. The books are about painful subjects – child prostitution, traffic in women, blood diamonds and African immigrants, and about art fraud and Mafia crime and big business. And the book is about Venetian and Italian interconnections, so that some crimes just disappear, some evidence just disappears, and Brunetti’s dunderhead of a boss tells him to just look the other way.
While each book is deceptively short, and written in clear, simple language, the books are richly complex, weaving a myriad of details into each page.
Thanks to Donna Leon, I know what it is like on a cold, rainy day in Venice, when the water rises and you have to try to walk on raised boards to get where you are going. I know what it is like to have a family emergency and the police vaporetto is in use elsewhere and to try to figure out the fastest way to run home, crossing bridges, grabbing a taxi, complicated by the canal system and tourist infestations in Venice. I know when policement get together for lunch in Venice, you don’t talk business until AFTER you have finished your exquisite pasta with truffles, accompanied by a glass or two of the fabulous house wine. Donna Leon has taken me there.
In Death and Judgement, the book I just finished, Brunetti is called by a police sergeant who has arrested a former police sergeant and wants Brunetti to come to the station. Brunetti’s conversations with the arresting sergeant always require a lot of patience:
(Brunetti) “Did the people in Mestre tell you to make out an arrest report?”
“Well, no, sir,” Alvise said after a particularly long pause. “They told Topa to come back here and make a report about what happened. The only form I saw on the desk was an arrest report, so I thought I should use that.”
“Why didn’t you let him call me, officer?”
“Oh, he’d already called his wife, and I know they’re supposed to get one phone call.”
“That’s on television, officer, on American television,” Brunetti said, straining towards patience.
We’ve all been there. Dealing with those who think they understand, and their understanding is . . . imperfect.
In another part of this book, in which the major issue is the big business of trafficking in women for prostitution, Brunetti is having a conversation with his wife:
Paula pulled gently on his hand. “Why do you use them?”
“Hum?” Brunetti asked, not really paying attention.
“Why do you use whores?” Then, before he could misunderstand, she clarified the question. “Men, that is. Not you. Men.”
He picked up their joined hands and waved them in the air, a vague, aimless gesture. “Guiltless sex, I guess. No strings, no obligations. No need to be polite.”
“Doesn’t sound very appealing,” Paola said, and then added “But I suppose women always want to sentimentalize sex.”
“Yes, you do.” Brunetti said.
Paola freed her hand from his hand and got to her feet. She glanced down at her husband for a moment, then went into the kitchen to begin dinner.
If you are reading that interchange too quickly, too superficially, you will totally miss the significance of the last sentence. If you have been married a long time, you will totally understand that a whole lot happened. This is one of the things I love about Donna Leon.
Death at La Fenice
Death in a Strange Country
Dressed for Death
A Venetian Reckoning
Acqua Alta
The Death of Faith
A Noble Radiance
Fatal Remedies
Friends in High Places
A Sea of Trouble
Willful Behavior
Uniform Justice
Doctored Evidence
Blood From a Stone
Through a Glass Darkly
I Never Knew There Was a Word for it
From this weeks A-Word-a-Day (see Blogroll)
This week’s theme: porcine words to mark the Chinese new year.
epigamic (ep-i-GAM-ik) adjective
Of or relating to a trait or behavior that attracts a mate.
Examples: In an animal, bright feathers or big antlers.
In a human, a sports car or a big bust.
[From Greek epigamos (marriageable), from epi- (upon) + gamos (marriage).]
-Anu Garg (garg wordsmith.org)
“The change from the young, intellectual, epigamic Jays, to the more
diplomatically sophisticated Hendersons also reflected a sharp change
in Washington lifestyle.”
Peter D. Carr; It Occurred to Me; Trafford Publishing; 2006.
Global Terrorist Incidence Map
My husband told me about a website, Global Incident Map.com where terrorist events are entered on the map and refreshed every 300 seconds (sometimes a little faster and sometimes a little slower.)
You first see a map of the world with flashing incidence icons – explosions, planes, some I am still figuring out. You can click on any one incident to get more information. You can also zoom in and out a la Google Earth – same kinds of controls, to get a closer look at any one part of the globe.
As you scroll down the page, you find a listing of the 25 newest events, listed by country. Scrolling down a little further, you find a search feature, and just below that, events divided into categories (airport/aviation, arson/fire, biological incidents, threats, bomb threats, chemical events, etc.)
The one drawback I have is that every now and then as the maps and incidents refresh, the program hangs up for a matter of seconds to a minute. It clears up faster if you just sit there and do nothing, but I am not good at sitting and doing nothing.
The map is worth a slot on your favorite places list, just for it’s astonishing relevance. Today, for example, in Kuwait, it says:
Kuwait increases security alert
“Officials said authorities did not rule out the prospect that Al Qaida insurgents from Iraq would seek to infiltrate Kuwait and conduct attacks during Hala.”
During HALA????? Strike the desperate bargain and entertainment seekers in Kuwait? We’re that dangerous???
On Wcities.com, HALA is described thus:
“Tourists flock to Kuwait during the period of Hala February. This month-long shopping festival celebrates the beauty of the spring season in the majestic deserts. Whether you come to enjoy the lush springtime greenery and animal life or to purchase items like spices, jewels and ornaments at great discounts, Hala February has it all. The city comes alive with its annual parade, cultural celebrations, entertainment and various organized events. Experience the true, warm Arabian welcome and make your stay a fun-filled experience.”
I don’t think life gets any sweeter than February in Kuwait, but I have a real hard time buying into tourists flocking here for the shopping experience. And a harder time imagining Al Qaeda crazies targeting bargain-crazed shoppers.
Stephen King and Hearts in Atlantis
You can be talking with serious people and watch their eyes change when they find you read Stephen King. I refuse to back down. Yep, I read Stephen King. I think he is a brilliant author, some books better than others, but when I am reading, sometimes I can feel my blood move faster through my veins as I wait for a life-threatening situation to resolve itself.
I can trust Stephen King. He taps into who we really are. I can also trust that most of the good guys will still be standing at the end, and most of the bad guys will meet a truly horrible and well-deserved death. I can trust that when bad things happen to good people, other good people will gather round, band together and the gestalt of all that willingness to help one another will prevail against the darkness.
The scariest book I ever read by Stephen King didn’t have any monsters, per se. It didn’t have the Walking Man, or any Wolves of Calla or any great evil, other than the evil that lurks in the human heart. The scariest book I have ever read by Stephen King was Hearts in Atlantis.
Hearts in Atlantis wasn’t even a novel, it was several shorter stories combined in one book. But the title story, Hearts in Atlantis, was about addiction. Not just any old addiction, either, but an addiction I had experienced.
It was my sophomore year in university. I had sailed through the trauma of freshman year with grace, great grades, I felt very confident. That summer, back home, I had taken bridge lessons, and holy smokes – I loved the game. It all made sense to me, and I loved figuring the probabilities and the possibilities, who had what card, how I could finesse that card, how I could WIN. I loved winning.
During the summer after my freshman year, I played a lot of bridge. So it was no wonder, when I got back to school, that I discovered a whole world of bridge players. Early in the morning, before my first class, I would head for the student union and pick up a coffee – and often a game.
The problem was, if I had a particularly good hand, the little devil on my shoulder would whisper “if you skip your class, you can win this hand!” and the bigger problem was – I would listen. I could afford to skip a class here and there, I did the homework. But through the year, I spent more and more time playing bridge and less and less time in the library. At the end of my sophomore year, my grade point average had fallen one full point.
That got my attention. I really wanted academic success. I spent my junior and senior years desperately working to get my grade point average back up to an acceptable level. Once the GPA falls, however, it only inches back up incrementally. It took almost straight A’s to undo the damage I had done to myself the year of bridge playing.
After graduation, I fell back into bridge playing on the duplicate level. But after a while, I noticed that while I travelled from place to place, it was the same smoke-filled room in every new city where we ended up, surrounded by a vampire-like culture that slept a lot of the day and only came alive at night. I also noticed that most of the conversations were about “the one that got away” – how such and such a hand might have been played best. Yawn. Yawn. Yawn. So one day, I just walked away, and never looked back.
Like all addictions, from time to time I hear bridge calling. From time to time I will enter a friendly game – party bridge, but it is no longer irresistable, no longer so seductive, so attractive. Thank God. Reading Stephen King brings back the terror of addiction.
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