Mr C

Moving blog

2009-02-17T23:47:00.001Z

This blog has now moved to www.ramblesofmrc.wordpress.com

Please feel free to join me there

Cricket Test

2007-04-15T19:16:00.000+01:00

It could hardly have passed anyone’s attention that we’re in the middle of the Cricket World Cup competition. Despite following the odd match with slightly more than a cursory interest, I have to say I haven’t followed this as I would have in previous years. One just doesn’t have the time these days – even for a one day match. I don’t remember how I could have followed test matches in years gone by, which to the bemusement of non-cricket lovers every where, can last five days and still end in a draw! But with the Bengal Tigers punching above their weight and causing upsets against India and now South Africa, the hype is getting too irresistible. At time of writing England proved to be a challenge too far. Next time, just maybe……..

The current tournament (and a friend’s blog) brought to mind the old debate around which cricket team to support a.k.a. the Norman Tebbit Cricket Test. For those younger than a certain age, you probably don’t remember Norman Tebbitt. Suffice it to say he was a Conservative party big wig during the Thatcherite years, a driven ideologue whose obituaries will no doubt be filled with his contribution to the race debate in Britain. The Norman Tebbitt Cricket Test essentially is a crude test of loyalty, allegiance and identity. Stirred up by footage of Britsh born Pakistanis (and later Indians, Sri Lankans and West Indians), supporting the teams of their parent’s origin, Tebitt basically posed the question about whether you can be English and support another team.

In the days before Bangladesh was honoured with test status, I ‘followed’ Pakistan’s exploits, then a star studded team led by Imran Khan in the 1990s. It never occurred to me to do anything else. At school the black boys followed West Indies, the Indians India and the majority of the white boys England apart from the odd Antipodean. It helped that Pakistan were flamboyant and successful, but looking back even then cricketing affinities could be seen along racial lines.

As primitive as it was it seems that this did not only apply to Cricket. With no decent sub-continental team to support, we sided with Argentina or Brazil with England being a reserve for our support in the event they played Germany. Perhaps our choices were a reflection of how black players (there are/were no English Asian footballers) were treated on the pitch despite representing their country – remember how John Barnes got monkey chants and had inflatable bananas waved at him despite being the most skilful player in the side. Similarly if you went to a cricket match, you couldn’t help being put off by the antics of the ‘barmy army’, usually booze fuelled and politically incorrect to say the least. Its not surprising that few of us would pass the Cricket Test. Scottish nationalists famously printed out t-shirts with ‘I failed the English Cricket Test’ on the front.

But how does all this apply to the post modern world we live in today? Multiple identities in a multi-cultural world are de riguer with no-one batting an eyelid if for example, you celebrate Eid, enjoy a Thai curry, holiday in Africa, speak three European languages and feel at home in a sarong. Children born of immigrant parents have no problems carrying dual or more identities - its just they way they are. Whether they are bi-lingual, have multiple heritages or different religions, they can be more secure in their identity than many may think. By having to face the question about who you are it perhaps does more to query the insecurity of the questioner as well as being forced to organise the thoughts of the questioned. If someone can give me a definition or checklist of what it means to be English/British perhaps the question can be answered.

This opens a veritable smorgasbord of opportunity to muse the subject of identity of the children of immigrant communities, multiculturalism and integration, but that my dear readers, is for another day. For now, we must revel in the irrelevance of the Tebbit Test. If I was good enough, I would have almost no problem in playing for England. Just look at the ‘success’ of Monty Panesar and Sajid Mahmood to see how defunct the question has become.

Of course, not content with that, the Tebbit Test question has been replaced by a new generation with the ‘Army Test’ - Would you fight for England against the country of your (parents') origin? The debate rumbles on….

Slave Trade

2007-03-24T00:22:00.000Z

On 25 March 1807, Parliament passed the Act for the Abolishment of the Slave Trade, outlawing the trans-Atlantic slave trade, in my mind probably the greatest crime in human history. Britain is commemorating this bicentennial anniversary and Britons certainly should remember William Wilberforce and the abolitionist movement.

The Act passed made it illegal for British owned ships to transport slaves at the risk of being penalised £100 per slave. The trade continued and as the slaves were considered nothing more than chattel, if unscrupulous captains feared being boarded by the Royal Navy they would throw men, women and children overboard to lessen the overall penalty.

By the time that Britain had woken up to the brutality and immorality of the transatlantic slave trade, the wealth generated from the previous two centuries of legalised cruelty had already kick started the Industrial Revolution giving Britain a competitive advantage, setting her in prime position for the next stage of colonial domination and imperialist ambitions. As the headline in the Voice newspapers shouts, Britain was ‘Built on Black Blood’ with much justification. Lloyds of London, Barclays Bank, the City of Liverpool and countless other institutions, industries and towns were built, directly or indirectly, on the profits of slavery.

But should Britons today apologise for the slave trade? Whilst the devastating impact of slavery on present day Africa, their descendants in the Americas and of course on the direct experience of upto 30 millions transported slaves cannot be ignored, who do we apologise to now? What responsibility do I or anyone living in Britain today have for the actions of pirates, traders and capitalists hundreds of years ago? What would you say and to whom? If you apologise does this imply culpability and the need to make recompense. There are serious advocates claiming that the government make substantial reparations. How do you put a price on kidnap, forced labour, cruelty, dispossession, rape, oppression, murder and torture?

Despite all these imponderables, Ken Livingstone to his credit, has issued a full and unequivocal apology on behalf of all Londoners for London’s role in the slave trade. In the absence of any previous formal apology on behalf of the nation, it probably is time to finally record the country’s regret at the inhuman activities which it legalised and the blood and tears it prospered from. Germany apologised for the Holocaust and as a way of acknowledging and coming to terms with its past, this was a necessary first step.

But by doing so, it should not be implied that individuals today bear any responsibility for the actions of previous generations. That would be contrary to natural justice. The Quran states ‘that no bearer of burdens shall be made to bear another’s burden’ 53:38. Which is obviously quite different from the fundamental Christian concept of Christ suffering for the sins of others.

An apology could only be a symbolic gesture to ensure, as with any lesson from history, that we learn from our mistakes and seek to avoid them in the future. Lessons it seems we as humans have forgotten - modern day slavery is still around us in the form of trafficked women from Eastern Europe, bondaged labour in the sub-continent and exploited migrant labour in the Far East. The Quranic exhortation to free slaves (2.177) has as much resonance today as it did when revealed.

Bangla Windows

2007-02-26T19:12:00.000Z

This is one for the Bengali speakers out there - made me laugh out loud.

Bill gates was in Bangladesh last year. He announced that Microsoft plans to release a windows version in Bengali. Here are some Windows related terms that may be used in the Bengali version of: Janaala1971

Phaail --- File
Basao --- Save
Oula Basao --- Save As
Hokholre Basao --- Save All
Amare Basao --- Help
Khanda Thaki Dheko --- Zoom In
Duur Thaki Dheko --- Zoom Out
Bhaago --- Run
Kofi --- Copy
Gulli Maro --- Delete
Saddor Bisao --- Spreadsheet
Itar naam zanina --- Database
Ghaas --- Tree
Unduur --- Mouse
Onthaki Hono, Honthaki Ono --- Scrollbar
Khagoz Bango --- Page Break

Big Bother

2007-01-29T20:20:00.000Z

Now whilst I try to avoid getting sucked into the detrius of junk TV, I have to admit to wasting a few hours watching Celebrity Big Brother over the last week. Unsurprisingly this has been prompted by the debate of the day that has exorcised the international media on what must have been a very slow news cycle.

For the uninitiated, this excuse for a social experiment locks half a dozen z-list celebrities in a house, points cameras at them 24-hours a day and sees what happens when the eponymous 'Big Brother' manipulates their environment sowing discord in the name of entertainment. Apart from only recognising the Face (only those of us watching TV in the 1980's truly remember the A-team in all its macho-glory - 'I luv it when a plan comes together' and 'I pity the fool') I didn't know any of the others.

Anyway, one day, two particular characters in this car wreck of a show, Jade Goody and Shilpa Shetty have an argument over oxo-cubes and chicken curry. Small thing to argue about you might think, but bear with me. This descends into an uncontrolled rant, a tirade of incomprehensible gibberish from Goody whose apparent claim to fame is that she was on another version of the show. In fact her most marketable characteristic apparently lay in her panache for asking stupid questions, chavette like behaviour and 'down to earth girl in the next council estate’ charm which has garnered her £8m so far! Shilpa Shetty on the other hand hails from Bollywood royalty and apart from being cultured and possessing dignity, knows how to string words together to make a coherent sentence.

So when Goody and her Goons gang up on Shetty and say things like ‘She doesn’t speak English’, ‘She should go back home’, wilfully mispronounce her name, call her ‘Popodom’, and other petty gibes, the question that Shilpa Shetty and the world ponders is ‘Is this what Britain is today?’. To be sure Goody and the Goons are bullies but are they racist? They are no doubt extremely ignorant and represent an unpalatable side of British society. But is it representative, or is it merely a class issue representing the views of the young disenfranchised underclass? These are questions that will no doubt me the subject of future media relations PhDs.

To give the benefit of the doubt to these girls, especially when Shetty herself was magnanimous in her forgiveness is probably the reasonable thing to do. To foist upon them a status as a barometer on British society is a bit harsh. Indians themselves are not immune from a bit of racism and class intolerance themselves – see the caste system for one. There’s just that nagging feeling at the back of my mind which says you don’t have to scratch too far below the surface to bring out people’s innate intolerances and prejudices.

I hope Channel 4 never do another Big Brother. Its an awful concept for a show.

Veiled Threats

2006-10-26T00:07:00.000+01:00

The blessed month of Ramadan is now over all too quickly as usual. It does seem that every year that it slips by faster than the last one and one hopes that you live to see another one. With Eid now celebrated (with the now customary moon sighting dispute) it seems appropriate to reflect over some of the hysterical media reporting that blighted last month's spiritual exercises.

From stories about policemen not guarding embassies, cabbies not letting guide dogs in vehicles, pharmacists not dispensing pills, teachers wearing veils, Muslims against the Olympics (apparently it will clash with Ramadan!), potential race riots (thanks Trevor), university lecturers to spy on Asian looking students, prison officers to spy on Asian/African/convert prisoners, 'hot-spots' identified by Ruth Kelly all topped of by the a Pope's speech, you wonder why some people are beginning to feel a little victimised. And that’s just some of the negative news stories I picked up on.

It's not that Muslims should not be open to sincere debate but the vitriolic nature of unbalanced (and uninformed) editorial opinion pieces, hours and hours of phone-in radio programmes and the pandering to the basest instincts of human nature can only, at the very least have a severe polarising effect. At worst, political acquiescence to some these views has given them a credence not previously enjoyed and released expressions of bigotry and hate which are entering the public discourse as being perfectly acceptable to be held by rational and reasonable people. Sadly this has already led to increasing incidences of verbal and physical assaults on Muslims.

The issue that seems to have dominated the majority of air waves and news print and exorcised angst is over the veil. This is only worn by a tiny minority of Muslim women in the UK but has been picked out as amongst other things a symbol of male subjugation of women, a throw back to pre-medieval society, a slap in the face for a generation of bra-burning feminists or political expression of a pro-terrorist agenda (the latter view seriously espoused by Melanie Phillips on Radio 4’s The Moral Maze).

What is glossed over is that it is actually overwhelmingly a personal choice for these women who see this as essentially a religious observance and mark of their piety. Islamic edicts differ in opinion on whether the veil is obligatory or merely permissible (unlike the hijab which is considered obligatory by all orthodox schools of thought). So although it is not viewed as compulsory (from a religious perspective), the fact that women choose to wear this is mainly a demonstration of free will.

Now whether you approve or not is not really an issue. I may not like tattoos, facial piercing, blue hair or inappropriate exposure of flesh but if people choose to express themselves in this way so be it. With these choices do, I acknowledge come consequences, some of which will include limitations in the way you can interact with society in general. Given that over 60% of women in general are not economically active anyway, why should the choice of a minute number of women to wear the veil and not ‘fully participate’ in society matter so much?

Think Positive

2006-09-29T10:54:00.000+01:00

I saw this poem and liked it enough to share.. enjoy.

It Couldn't Be Done

Somebody said that it couldn't be done,
But he with a chuckle replied
That "maybe it couldn't", but he would be one
Who wouldn't say so till he tried.
So he buckled right in with a trace of a grin
On his face. If he worried he hid it.
He started to sing as he tackled the thing,
That couldn't be done and he did it.

Somebody scoffed: "Oh, you'll never do that;
At least no one ever has done it";
But he took off his coat and he took off his hat,
And the first thing we knew he'd begun it.
With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,
Without any doubting or quiddit,
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn't be done, and he did it.

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,
There are thousands to prophesy failure;
There are thousands to point out to you, one by one,
The dangers that wait to assail you.
But just buckle in with a bit of a grin
Just take off your coat and go to it.
Just start to sing as you tackle the thing
That "cannot be done," and you'll do it.

Edgar A. Guest

Think Positive,
Believe you can,
Do everything that you plan,
When you do - it will turn out grand.
So, Think Positive, man!

Chichester Golf course

2006-07-11T23:09:00.000+01:00

A professional swinger in action..

And how not to do it. Appalling posture. tut-tut.

Gentlemen Only Ladies Forbidden aka GOLF!!

2006-07-11T22:57:00.000+01:00

So my first encounter on a golf course did not quite start on the right foot. Having woken up late and with a two hour journey to ahead of me, I seriously contemplated cancelling. But with at least one months advance warning and the fact that I was actually looking forward to it after about a month work pressure I roused my self from my slumber and arranged to meet my golf buddies at the fifth tee. I say golf buddies – but this was the first time I actually played on a course and not just on a pitch and putt or on the driving range. How hard could it be? As P.G Woodhouse said "Golf ! After all, what is golf? Just pushing a small ball into a hole. A child could do it...."

For a start there is whole paraphernalia that you need before you event set foot on the course. Apart from the set of clubs, the trolley, balls and score cards, you need to make sure that you have the correct clothes and shoes in accordance with club rules. Lucky for me no major faux-pas with the clothes and I was able to borrow the rest. Of course this gives plenty of a opportunity for one-up-manship wrt to club and clothes brand etc. Ide even had a remote controlled trolley thanks to his competition win and looked like the consummate professional in all his gear.

Suffice it to say my first round on the golf course was embarrassing. I think I lost about 10 balls in rivers and lakes and although I was beginning to hit a few good strokes, couldn’t help feeling that this was going to be a very expensive and frustrating hobby if I was going to carry on. Having said that, Chichester golf course on that beautiful summer’s day was as pleasant a way to spend four hours as you can imagine. Yes – that’s right – FOUR hours. You can see why it elicits mixed emotions from players as evidenced by the quotes below. So thanks Ide for arranging it and opening my eyes to this very British of past times. I look forward to the next one.

For you amusement – what famous people have said about golf.
1. Winston Churchill: "Golf is like chasing a quinine pill around a cow pasture."

2. Jack Benny: "Give me the fresh air, a beautiful partner, and a nice round of golf, and you can keep the fresh air and the round of golf."

3. Lee Trevino: "You can make a lot of money in this game. Just ask my ex-wives. Both of them are so rich that neither of their husbands work."

4 Unknown: "Golf is not a game, it's bondage. It was obviously devised by a man torn with guilt, eager to atone for his sins."

5. Hank Aaron: "It took me seventeen years to get 3,000 hits in baseball. I did it in one afternoon on the golf course."

6. Lee Trevino: "Columbus went around the world in 1492. That isn't a lot of strokes when you consider the course."

7. Lee Trevino: "I'm not saying my golf game went bad, but if I grew tomatoes, they'd come up sliced."

8. Sam Snead: "These greens are so fast I have to hold my putter over the ball and hit it with the shadow."

9. Paul Harvey: "Golf is a game in which you yell "fore," shoot six, and write down five."

10. Tommy Bolt, about the tempers of modern players: "They throw their clubs backwards and sideways, and that's wrong. You should always throw a club ahead of you so that you don't have to walk any extra distance to get it."

11. Tommy Bolt: "Putting allows the touchy golfer two to four opportunities to blow a gasket in the short space of two to forty feet."

12. Jimmy Demarest: "Golf is about the only things you can enjoy without being good at."

13. Jack Lemmon: "If you think it's hard to meet new people, try picking up the wrong golf ball."

14. Lee Trevino: "If you're caught on a golf course during a storm and are afraid of lightning, hold up a 1-iron. Not even God can hit a 1-iron."

15. Unknown: "Fifty years ago, 100 white men chasing one black man across a field was called the Ku Klux Klan. Today it's called the PGA Tour."

16. John Updike: "Golf appeals to the idiot in us and the child. Just how childlike golf players become is proven by their frequent inability to count past five."

17. "Silk Stockings" TV Show: "The people who gave us golf and called it a game are the same people who gave us bag pipes and called it music."

18. Gerald Ford: "I would like to deny all allegations by Bob Hope that during my last game of golf, I hit an eagle, a birdie, an elk and a moose."

19. P.G. Woodhouse: "The least thing upsets him on the links. He missed short putts because of the uproar of butterflies in the adjoining meadows."

20. Bob Hope: "If I'm on the course and lightning starts, I get inside fast. If God wants to play through, let him."

21. Ken Harrelson: "In baseball you hit your home run over the right-field fence, the left-field fence, the center-field fence. Nobody cares. In golf everything has got to be right over second base."

22. Chi Chi Rodriguez: "The first time I played the Masters, I was so nervous I drank a bottle of rum before I teed off. I shot the happiest 83 of my life."

23. Chi Chi Rodriguez: "After all these years, it's still embarrassing for me to play on the American golf tour. Like the time I asked my caddie for a sand wedge and he came back ten minutes later with a ham on rye."

24. Tommy Bolt, toward the end of one of his infamous high-volume, temperamental, club-throwing rounds, asked his caddie for a club recommendation for a shot of about 155 yards. His caddie said: "I'd say either a 3-iron or a wedge, sir." "A 3- iron or a wedge?" asked Bolt. "What kind of stupid, #*!~%^* choice is that?"
"Those are the only two clubs you have left in the your bag, sir." said the caddie.

PS How do you put up pictures??

Latest news...Mrs C graduates!

2006-06-18T17:01:00.001+01:00

Its been a while but just to let you know I'm still here. I'll fill you in later but for now the news is that Alhamdulilah, Mrs C has now passed her exams!!

Good news but I feel a little for the patients. I better not say anything else in case I get stabbed by a knitting needle or get balls of wool thrown at me! But seriously congratulations - a lot of hard work has gone in under difficult circumstances.

I suppose you want a present now..

Enemy Combatant

2006-05-01T12:09:00.000+01:00

I had the surprising pleasure of being at a presentation titled 'An Audience with Moazzam Begg'. For those who have short memories he was released from Guantanomo Bay after three years in detention courtesey of the US government.

His story is a painful one for those who have any sense of justice or compassion. After managing to escape the US bombardment of Afghanistan following 9/11 (he was there setting up a school for girls) he was reunited with his family in Pakistan whom he had given up for dead. After about three weeks his house in Islamabad was raided by FBI/CIA and ISI agents and he was carted off in front of his wife and young kids. He was imprisoned and interrogated by various agencies including MI6 and the British Foreign office whilst still being denied any basic legal rights. Shortly thereafter he was taken to Bagram where he was subjected to the most obscene violence and abuse and then carted off to Guantanomo Bay where he was kept in solitary confinement for nearly two years. For anyone who believed that UK politicians and officials stood up for justice and tried to help Moazzem's father who spearheaded a fantastic campaign for his son's release, it seems that they were just as complicit in prolonging his suffering.

I've summarised the main points but what came across most in his presentation was that despite suffering various levels of mental and physical torture that could be invented by the US military and intelligence agencies, Moazzam Begg was articulate (a result of more than 300 interrogations!), clearly very intelligent, still retained a sense of humour and most of all did not display a sense of rage or anger that you might think is a reasonable reaction. I don't think it's anywhere close to forgiveness or anything but the forbearance and reliance on Allah developed through a renewed relationship with the Quran during those years in isolation clearly comes through.

At Guantanamo, as he was one of the few who could speak English, Urdu and Arabic, he managed to establish relations with other 'detainees' as well as the guards - many of whom were ignorant of pretty much everything, never mind history, politics or religion. He bore no ill-will to many of the individual guards who were assigned to him although there were many whose brutality led to the deaths of some prisoners. In fact one of the enduring ironies was that he was asked to be a witness for the prosecution in the legal proceedings against soldiers who had killed prisoners in Bagram whilst being denied due process himself.

You feel that his lectures have a cathartic effect, each time he recounts his story is part of the continuing rehabilitation for himself and family. Yet I wouldn't be surprised if there are things that he hasn't mentioned, things that are still too painful to said out aloud.

I bought and got a signed edition of his book, 'Enemy Combatant' and recommend all to read it. It humanises those men in orange suits, most of whom were 'sold' to the Americans for money. It definitely opens your eyes to a different perspective in the insane age of the 'war or on terror', or more recently renamed 'the long war'.

Hard disk heaven

2006-04-22T15:01:00.000+01:00

Our laptop has died. The tragedy has been compunded my the loss of all nearly our digital photos from our recent trip to Turkey, Egypt and Bangladesh. Luckily all our wedding pics have been backed up on disk - but let this be a lesson to you all - back up data - NOW and regularly thereafter. If anyone has a record of our visits to these places, can you please give us copies for our album.

Back home and back to reality

2006-04-15T11:55:00.000+01:00

So i've been back nearly two weeks and its straight back to work. Egypt seems so far away now and its very worrying how you can settle back into a new routine. Sadly as the physical ramble has come to an end the raison d'etre for the blog is also diminishing. However the mental rambles will still go on so pop in from time to time.

Work will be very busy but as most of it is confidential (and of no interest to any body outside the world of trains) I won't dwell on this. Mrs C is working very hard for final exams although seems more interseted in interior design, making cakes and very expensive handbags!!

I will be posting pictures up of our time in Egypt soon so stay tuned.

Honoured Guest

2006-03-19T19:06:00.000Z

A week in to my bachelor status and things are falling in to a routine. You’ll all be glad to know that I’m not wasting away here on my own. Arabs are renown for the hospitality shown to guests and this has been liberally applied. I’ve noticed that many people from the east know how to honour their guests and it reminds me of Michael Palin’s comments after returning back to Blightly after his 80 days around the world trip that people were less gracious and caring in the UK more than anywhere else (or words to that effect).

A conversation in a Middle Eastern/Sub Continental/African/Central Asian/Far Eastern household between a guest and host might go something like this:

Host: Would you like something to drink?
Guest: No thank you, I’m fine.
Host: Really, tell me its no trouble, I insist?
Guest: No honestly its fine, I’m OK.
Host: Well how about some water then, at least that?
Guest: No need really.
Host: Please you would insult me otherwise?
[And so on for about five minutes until…]
Guest: Some water will be great, but only if its no trouble, thank you.
[Host goes to kitchen and wheels out a five course meal made up of the freshly sacrificed goats, exotic specialities and the best food in the house, including jelly.]

A similar scenario in the UK might be slightly shorter:

Host: Would you like some tea?
Guest: No thank you.
Host: OK [and goes to make himself a cup and drinks in front of guest]

I do of course exaggerate slightly, there have been plenty of times I’ve not even been offered tea! The honouring of the guest or traveller is greatly praised in many cultures, and the Islamic tradition is no exception to this as can be seen from the following translation of a verse from Quran and narration.

Allah says, "Has the story reached you of the honoured guests of Ibrahim? When they entered his dwelling and said, 'Peace! 'He said, 'Peace! O people unknown to us.' So he slipped off to his household and brought a fattened calf. He offered it to them. He exclaimed, 'Do you not then eat?'" (51:24-27)

Abu Hurayra reported that the Prophet, may Allah bless him and grant him peace, said, "Anyone who believes in Allah and the Last Day should honour his guest. Anyone who believes in Allah and the Last Day, should maintain ties of kinship. Anyone who believes in Allah and the Last Day, should speak well or be silent." [Agreed upon]

Anyway this tradition is keeping me well looked after although on the converse side there are etiquettes of being a good guest and not being a burden to ones hosts. At the moment I don’t think I’m near that threshold but I would like to buy a present for them to show gratitude – any ideas anyone?

Back to being a bachelor - sort of

2006-03-10T18:13:00.000Z

So Dahab was cool. I can fully recommend it for a week break or so. Get a decent hotel near the Corniche, not one these mega chain ones, and just kick back. The original chilled out feel has still been preserved quite well with the activity bits tagged on, like camel riding in the desert, horse riding on the beach, quad biking, wind surfing (kite surfing as well), kayaking, and of course snorkelling and scuba diving. Not a Pharonic temple in sight or over-zealous sales people! Might have to go back one of these days. Of course it helps if you can negotiate big discounts on almost everything.

Mrs C went back to UK to start revising for her finals last week. I’ll be staying on for another month – shorter than I wanted but apparently I’m needed back in the office. As planned I’ve vacated our over priced flat and gone back to living like a bachelor, sharing digs with a student from Al-Azhar university. The good thing is that my flat mate, although from South Africa, speaks fluent Arabic and the place is cheap and functional. Unfortunately it is slightly far from the network of people I’ve got to know over the last couple of months and a bit sparse. He has just gone on a three day trip with some of his uni mates so tis a bit lonely here on my own for a few days (except for the ants to keep me company).

Ustad Ahmed’s wife has taken pity on my bachelor status and although I insisted I knew how to cook and could at least pick up a phone and order a pizza or kushary (yum) if I needed, she gave me enough home-cooked food to last the week! This also included a massive tray of jelly which resulted from a passing remark I made about not being able to get halal jelly in the UK! Well at least I won’t starve – and my pots and pans remain unpacked.

The by product of their genorisity, as Ustad Ahmed sees it, is that I now have more time to study and revise. Given the short space of time I have left, Ustad Ahmed is keen on packing in as much as he can and the lessons are becoming more and more intense. I know I won’t be able to remember a lot of it but at least I will be able to revise when I get back and have my notes – I hope. We’ve started tajweed and I’rab of the Quran now. Sometimes my head hurts from all this and I had call in to cancel a couple of Diwan classes – but I’ve promised myself that I will never do a ten-hour day of pure grammar – it will just drive me insane.

On the plus side I met up with another student from Al Azhar university today. I first met him a week or so after we arrived and he mentioned that my Arabic had very much improved since that first meeting. He’s offered to show me around some of the sights of Islamic Cairo which are not necessarily on the tourist trail – I think I’ll take him up on that.

And finally, I came across this on the net. Some of it is starting to ring true…

You Know You've Lived in the Middle East Too Long When ...

You're not surprised to see a goat in the passenger seat
You think the uncut version of "Little House on the Prairie" is provocative
You expect the confirmation on your airline ticket to read "insha'allah"
You don't expect to eat dinner before 10:30 p.m.
You need a sweater when it's 80 degrees outside
Your idea of housework is leaving a list for the maid
You believe that speed limits are only advisory
You have no problem with tractors driving 40kph on the highway
You know whether or not you are within missile range of Iraq
You get excited and spread the news when "Oreo" cookies show up at the grocery store
You fully expect to go to jail when a local national hits the back of your car at a stop sign
You know which end of a shawarma to unwrap first
You think that the further you inch into the middle of an intersection, the faster the light will turn green
You consider it normal for the same section of the road to be dug up three times by contractors in the space of a few weeks
You understand that the true definition of a nanosecond is the time interval between the light turning green and the guy behind you honking his horn
You think that all gas stations are made of marble
You can receive every TV station crystal clear except the local one
You get used to using the cold water tap to get hot water during the summer
You make left turns from the far right lane without a second thought
You expect gold for every birthday
You think Pepsi begins with a "B"
You think that a box of kleenex belongs on every dinner table
You think water only comes in bottles
You understand that when someone says "Bukra (tomorrow), Insha'Allah" to you it really means "Sometime during this calendar year"...if you're lucky!
You start writing from the right side of the page.

2006-02-26T19:25:00.000Z

There's a nasty, carcinogenic, ozone-filled smog swirling around Cairo. I'm off to Dahab for fresh sea air and sunshine.

A Tourist in Egypt

2006-02-25T21:14:00.000Z

A previous post alluded to plans for an odyssey of exploration through Egypt’s fascinating and profuse historic monuments and artefacts. My sister joined us for the Cairo leg before returning to her east-end dwarves and we went on to Luxor for a cruise down to Aswan. I thought it would be interesting just to list some of the places and things we visited and a factoid or two.

Khan al-Khalili – A bazaar made more famous in recent times by Naguib Mahfouz’s writings originates from 1328 and was historically dominated by the foreign merchant classes of Jewish, Armenian, Persian and non Egyptian Arabs . Now a tourist trap extraordinaire but quite good fun if you start haggling with a good-natured trader. While I am quite a good haggler, I hate shopping so I left the ladies to go shopping by themselves and ended up just shaking my head at the prices they paid. But I’m amazed at the prices that some of the real tourist end up paying for pointless nick naks.

Opposite Khan al-Khalil is the Al-Azhar mosque. Originally a university, one of the first in the world, this is an impressive example of Islamic architecture. Thousands of students from all around the world still come to study at Al-Azhar university which is now based near us in Madinat Nasser and is one of the premier places for Islamic learning and knowledge. You can still see some classes being taught in circles within annexes to the mosque as has been the case for over a millennia. We prayed Jumma prayers there before going on to Cairo Tower.

A visit to the Cairo Tower is normally remembered for its unrivalled view of the city including the pyramids of Giza in the distance and mediocre dinner in a revolving restaurant. Unfortunately we will remember if for the horrific beating of an alleged thief by police and under cover agents on the grounds. The man was literally beaten unconscious by about four or five policemen and whilst the camcorder was rolling at the time it was turned off and there is no Rodney King style evidence of this event. It’s a reminder of the precarious balance of a police state.

Pyramids of Giza truly are impressive structures and serve as reminders of the rise and fall of bygone empires. The genius, vision, complexity and sheer scale of effort of building the pyramids themselves really have to be seen to be believed. The huge blocks of chiselled granite were transported hundreds of miles from quarries in Aswan from Upper Egypt. Of course the best thing about a visit to the pyramids is the obligatory ride on camels and gallop on a horse on the edge of the Sahara. My horse unfortunately was a little on the small size and it just looked a little silly. The other unfortunate thing is that Mrs C is very very very allergic to horses and suffered the most horrendous reaction and it took a couple of day for her eyes to go back to normal.

The Egyptian Museum is one of those places that just have to be seen. As well as housing the infamous Tutankhamen collection, mummies (human and animals), statutes, models and hieroglyphics the layout is to say the least confusing and the labelling atrocious. You definitely need a guide and the touts outside must make a fortune. One of the mummies is alleged to be Mernetepah (son of Ramses) who was the Pharoh of the Biblical Exodus and is recorded in the Quran as being preserved as a sign for future generations (10.90- 92). To this day, no-one is sure of the mummification process which keeps the bodies so well preserved.

The Citadel and the Mosque of Mohammed Ali is one of the more dramatic and dominant features of the Cairo skyline. The Citadel or fortress was founded by the famous Salah al-Din Ayyubi in 1176 and was the centre of governance and rule for nearly every leader since till 1874. Mohammed Ali’s mosque built in 1833 acknowledges and defies the Ottoman Empire in style and scale. The gingerbread clock from Louis Philipe of France in exchange for the obelisk removed from Luxor Palace and now in Place de la Concorde in Paris has famously never worked except perhaps for the journey to Egypt. This place is definitely worth a visit for the views of the city alone.

That’s it for tourist Cairo although there are other things to see and do. I’ll put up pictures and write about the Nile cruise another time.

Cartoon Crisis

2006-02-12T14:22:00.000Z

Some links to articles commenting on this:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/cartoonprotests/story/0,,1703496,00.html

http://observer.guardian.co.uk/comment/story/0,,1707922,00.html

http://al-miftah.blogspot.com/2006/02/something-rotten-in-state-of-denmark.html

http://www.zaytuna.org/articleDetails.asp?articleID=92

Don't necessarily agree 100% with everything written but with little time to write in detail about this, it covers most of my views!

Update

2006-02-10T19:57:00.000Z

We were invited to the opening of the Foreign and Commonwealth Office sponsored photo exhibition a few of days ago. I say invited, but sadly this wasn’t an exclusive embassy event with mounds of Ferror Roche being passed around on silver platters. As part of our government’s ‘hearts and mind’ offensive in the Muslim world the British Council has been putting on a week of events in Egypt to portray how positive relations are in the UK between muslims and the rest of society. It was introduced by HM Ambassador who spoke in Arabic, which despite being in a stilted English accent was quite impressive.

‘The Art of Integration; Islam In Britain’s Green and Pleasant Land’ was the title of the new photo exhibition undertaken by Peter Sanders. Putting aside the differences in opinion about human representation in art, this was an interesting set of snaps which captured a certain aspect of Muslim life in the UK today. It was surprising that I recognised quite a few of the subjects, which perhaps shows how small the pool of positive subjects there is within a certain circle. Despite the extremely positive images of muslims in the UK (i.e. Mosques built out of local stone, Muslims working in the community as doctors, politicians, businessmen, teachers, lots of playing kids etc etc) its quite clear that some of the journalists present were not suddenly converted from their preconceived opinions. For example one journalist I chatted to asked me about discrimination and racism, riots in Bradford, poor education and increasing curbs on civil rights (the last one is a bit much coming from an Egyptian!). A week of exhibitions, films and workshops aren’t going to sway minds.

Talking about human representation, the furore over the publication of cartoons of the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) is making waves here as well and has well and truly put a dent in any positive EU charm offensive. After Jummah prayers leaflets were being handed out urging us to ban Danish products including an old favourite Lego. Quite clearly depiction and republication of the cartoons demonstrates at least wanton insensitivity and at worst calculated provocation and insult to nearly all Muslims. I hear that it was the Egyptian foreign minister who kept the pressure on the Danish government urging them to make a public statement which they refused to until recently and far too late after the initial event. Muslim’s are reacting (perhaps over reacting) but the hurt and insult caused on so many levels is real and palpable. The love and respect for held for the Prophet (pbuh) is something that is not fully understood by many but perhaps this is the proverbial silver lining and calmer minds can start explaining this (although really incumbent on all Muslims). Sadly many people have died already, and there are rumours (stress rumours – I don’t want to start one) of retaliatory Quran burnings to the Danish flag burning. It’s easy to become depressed at these events and the world really is in a turmoil but as an optimist I believe that there are better times ahead. And to the guy who wore a ‘suicide vest’ in London in protest – just three words – ‘What A Plonker’.

Lessons are ongoing and am feeling a little saturated and exhausted. We’ll be taking a well deserved break and doing a few touristy things next week once Mrs C Senior and Teacher C arrive in Cairo.

Egypt has just won the African Cup without Mido their star player in a penalty shoot out! Judging by the cheers and car horns outside, we’re not going to get much sleep tonight. As we can’t beat them we’re off to join them and take in some of the atmosphere.

Misr! – Boom.Boom.Boom – Misr!

2006-01-29T14:27:00.000Z

Only the most absent minded would notice that Cairo has become a bit football loopy over the last couple of weeks as it hosts the Africa Cup of Nations. Kids are playing on the streets, the standard fizzy drinks are being endorsed by African football stars and there’s even an African Cup song. So we decided to go along to a game as it would be rude not to imbibe some of the culture of your host city for the next few weeks!

Egypt 3 – Ivory Coast 1. That’s how the match ended. As a qualifying game, it was largely inconsequential – Coite d’Ivoire were assured of their place in the knock out stages and the host nation just had to avoid losing to make sure their destiny was in their own hands and not rely on the results of Libya v Morocco. The Ivory Coast team were bigger and physically stronger than the Egyptians, but the home team showed more heart, enthusiasm and courage in front of their inspiring fans.

The crowd atmosphere was something quite different than any sporting event I’ve been to in the UK. The absence of alcohol meant that the raucous enthusiasm never verged on the menacing and frankly it felt relatively safe and good natured. Of course you did have to go through about ten lines of security in this most security-obsessed country. We turned up with about 45 mins to go before kick off and were lucky to find 9 seats altogether near the edge of the pitch. I realised later that at that angle, about 10% of the pitch couldn’t be seen because of the advertising hoardings on our side! This was frustrating as Mido, Egypt’s best player, was dribbling down our flank for the first half-hour before he was substituted due to injury.

I was worried that I would have to explain the offside rule in Arabic to the bunch of football novices that came along, but it didn’t get much worse than; ‘Isn’t it mean that they boo the opposition team? And how do they know in which direction to head the ball’ before the yummy home made chocolate cake was passed around (Mrs C is a fantastic cake baker). The football chanting was no more imaginative than Misr! Boom-Boom-Boom- Misr! A crowd fluffer bizarrely managed to get a whole section of the second-class stadium to shout Oooooo! Aaaaaaaaa! And then what was suspiciously like the Old Macdonald Tune – E-I-E-I-O - in chorus. I was so enraptured with all this that I admit missing Ivory Coast’s goal towards the end of the first half but the crowd itself was something of a spectacle with red, white and black cladding nearly every single one of the 70,000 capacity stadium. They kept up the noise and encouragement for nearly all the game.

After a quiet start to the second half, Ivory Coast’s goalkeeper was substituted and Egypt went on to score a second and third, just in time to warm us all up by cheering along. We had agreed to leave a little early before the end of the match so that we could get a cab home, but mutiny in the ranks put pay to that and we got home really late. As expected the streets were jammed with fans celebrating with flags, horns, whistles and drums. Anyway with no cabs, we were forced to walk for ages and then got into a minibus whose driver insisted in blasting his horn all the way (inducing a headache, homework aversion and class cancellation the next morning). If you didn’t know there was a football match on you might think Egypt had just won a war against Israel! You can imagine the scenes if they do win this competition - the whole nation will go mental. For one short night, we were all Egyptians and the final word should be MISR!

PS Thanks should go to Ustadh Muhammad without whom things would have been a little more difficult.

PPS For a real match report click here.

Tagged

2006-01-25T17:42:00.000Z

Wow – my counters reached 1000! – thank you Mrs C Senior for logging on five times a day – my most loyal fan. I’ve been told that I should really write a bit more frequently but in all honesty, I haven’t had the time with two teachers equalling at least six hours of lesson time (sometimes more) and then at least three hours of homework. And herein lies the rumours of my entry into Geekdom. I wish I could say I can see the fruits of these hours spent but its early days yet. I’ve given myself a couple of days off but that’s just landed me double homework with an exam on Saturday!

Now its been brought to my attention that I’ve been ‘tagged’ by a certain Peanut, the Sleepy Jughead aka sister-in-law No. 2. What this means is that I’m supposed to complete in a silly blogfiller and tag some one else to do the same. After procrastinating about whether I should bother, I though why not and so here we go and coninue this idiocy.

10 years ago: I was at University. Beard starting to grow then. Interesting times on and off ‘campus’. Oh yes – there was a thing called the internet that was starting to take off, and the cool guys had Motorola bricks.

5 years ago: The world before September 2001, stock markets were flying high, internet share trading was the new fad and even I nearly go sucked in. Was working at Andersen which was still a reputable company then (pre Enron scandal). The world really has changed since then.

Middle School: I presume this means the years before GCSE? Why does anyone care. So long ago I can hardly remember suffice it to say that I hated playing rugby and can’t stand it now.

5 bands and artists: Can’t say I listen to much these days. My old tastes were quite eclectic from rap (old-school stuff – not this curent crop of pornographic gangster wannabes. The originals had social conscience, principles, intellect as well as being commercially astute), to Seattle grunge, to jazz (Jazz FM was always on during exams) and commercial classical.

5 things I'd do with £100, 000, 000:I think I would keep some, spend some and set up a tax effective charitable trust for various good causes of my choice. I definitely would not work again – but since noone’s going to give me £100m this is a mute point (for anyone from the office who happens to read this!)

5 places I would run away to:If the island in Swiss Family Robinson exists that would be quite cool. But since I’m allowed to cross the road now and don’t have to enter into the recesses of my imagination, perhaps the Galápagos Islands (spelling?). I’ve heared that’s quite cool. Somewhere with a temparate climate (definitely not cold), where they speak proper Arabic and don’t try charge you double the price for everything – oh! I’m going back to my imagination.

5 movies I like:
Shawshank Redemption (watch it to the end – I know it’s a long film), Malcolm X (book is better though),
Star Wars (good v evil – and the jedis are just intergalactic sufis with Yoda as the grand sheikh – warning: don’t base your Aqida on this film though, you’ll go astray!),
Bowling for Columbine (a bit unfair to Americans – makes them all look dumb except for the really insane ones) and,
Swiss Family Robinson (a childhood thing you understand – I know there’s no way you can have all those animals on a small island for real).

5 people I'd like to meet: Other than many obvious people from the Prophets, scholars, writers, thinkers and leaders, I’ve restricted this to the twentieth century world.

Malcolm X - martyrd in his prime – would have changed America and the world even more than he did.
Ghandi, Nehru and Jinnah – just to listen in to what they really thought would happen with partition.
The guy who assasinated the Serb in Sarajevo and started World War 1 – I think I would try to explain Chaos Theory and the Law of Unintended Consequences.
Oppenheimer (et al) – What did you think would happen? You’re smart guys.
Bill Gates – I’d lend him some money/take shares to start up a company

5 biggest joys of my life:
Good food, warm rooms, intelligent friends, family and watching toddlers learning to walk, stumble and fall over (it always makes me smile, so long as they don’t hurt themselves of course – I’m not cruel!).

Glad that’s all over – I ‘tag’ Insane Bovine – aka sister-in-law No. 3.

In the next couple of days we’re off to the Cairo International Bookfair and an African World Cup match against my better judgement. Will write about that later.

Settling in

2006-01-17T21:55:00.000Z

Well it’s been 10 days since we arrived in Cairo and Mrs C and I are beginning to settle into a routine of sorts. We were fortunate to see Eid within a couple of days of landing. Daughter of a Duck and Mrs C wrote about this so I won’t elaborate further other than to say that the streets of Nasr City really were awash with blood. The experience of Eid in a country where everyone celebrates and takes a national holiday was quite special – no need to try and book a day off weeks in advance!

The other thing about Eid is that everything shuts down for a week which gave us some time to acclimatise to our new home and surroundings before starting classes. As we had few cooking utensils, this also meant getting to know a lot of the major fast food places intimately. Given that they are so cheap (I mean really cheap by London standards) and they deliver to your door we soon became acquainted with the following outlets; Dominos Pizza, Chillies, KFC, McDonalds, Pullman , Smileys amongst others. If it hadn’t been for the kindness of strangers during the Eid holidays and being invited around to people’s houses I’m sure would have frequented a lot more. Being seriously in danger of bloating under such temptation, I’ve joined the local gym and we’ve promised ourselves to cook at home more. Good intentions and all that.

My classes at the language centre started three days ago. You have to sit a placement test so the teachers can judge your abilities. I was placed on Level 0! – the lowest possible!! (Mrs C was placed at level 5 and did a celebratory jig!). I was annoyed as the teacher only marked the first two pages and placed me on the basis that I didn’t know the words for ‘arrow’ and ‘date tree’ in Arabic (a slight exaggeration perhaps). Anyway I was more reassured when I heard that Imam Sohaib was also in Level 0 when he started and he’s been studying for years. He also reminded us of the need to have humility in our studies. I got moved up a couple of levels in the first class and am more comfortable with where I am. I should finish the first book in a month or so but my oral communication needs a lot of work – so I’m concentrating on that at the institute. For grammar I take private lessons and will pack a lot into three months. But what I’ve learnt so far is that three months won’t be nearly enough for what I want but still invaluable.

My day starts with grammar classes at 6.30am for about four hours! Ustadh Ahmed as well as being a grammarian and a specialist ophthalmologist is the sort of person who only seems to need 3 hours of sleep a day. As well as teaching me, he teaches others Arabic and medical courses. This is for 6 days a week with Friday as a holiday (i.e. for revision and consolidation). The ‘oral’ classes are for two-and-a-half hours a day and seem to whizz by. I’m trying to pick up at least 25 words a day although Ustadh Ahmed gave 80 on the first day. On top of that I have homework which takes a few hours a day. So you can see that there’s not much left in the day.

You would think that living in an Arabic speaking country that this will become second nature but the local dialect is so significantly different from the standard Arabic we’re learning that the institute teaches separate classes in the local Aamiyah dialect. It’s quite difficult to make yourself understood even if you have the standard vocab. For example the other day I went looking for a chicken to cook and asked ‘yuurid adajaj’ instead of ‘iyyaz al faragh’. It’s completely different if technically correct. In the end I cheated after pushing a wheelchair-bound Good Samaritan around for about half-an-hour (another story) and went to the local supermarket and picked up the aforementioned poultry from the local Shoprite (Egypt’s equivalent to Sainsburys). I have to learn a bit more before I chance it at the barbers – I need a trim soon and am scared something might get lost in translation (and not just all my hair). More soon. Oh and it’s still extremely cold in Cairo.

Istanbul

2006-01-12T11:25:00.000Z

As I write this now we have been in Cairo for five days now and have celebrated Eid yesterday.

The universal truth about both Istanbul and Cairo at this time of year is that it is very cold and full of stray cats – two things which I am allergic to. True, not as cold as in London but the homes and apartments in these countries don’t have any central heating systems, insulated lofts or sealed glazing so the nights feel particularly cold. For those that know me, you know that is not what I hoped for but thankfully the worst of the cold seems to be over and we’ve got our bawab (porter cum guard cum apartment caretaker and odd job man) to get some more heaters.

One good thing about the time of year was that there is a distinct lack of tourists around the main Sultanahmet tourist area of Istanbul. I have been fortunate to see many examples of Islamic architecture but I don’t think I have seen anything as ornate and beautiful as the Sultan Ahmet or Blue mosque. The domes, minarets, mosaic tiling, carpets, calligraphy and stained glass windows were first rate. And it’s not just that mosque, the Ottamans left hundreds if not thousands of these types of mosques. As soon as you head towards one, another comes into your eye line. Quite fantastic. And to bring them into the modern age, most of these mosques have been updated with under floor heating!

The famous Topkapi palace, the residence of the Ottoman Caliphs was also a reminder of the splendour and also decline of the Ottoman Empire. Its focus as the centre of the Islamic Empire over many centuries was evidenced by the many artefacts on display including many keys to the Ka’ba (the House of Allah in Mecca) here and in the Ibrahim Pasha House which now houses Turkey’s Islamic Art and Artefacts collections. I didn’t go to the harem section of the Topkapi palace but this had by far the longest tourist queue and reinforces the orientalist preoccupation with the exotic eastern ‘other’.

Other than Turkish delights, Turkey is also famous for its Turkish baths. Now this is normally something I would not necessarily indulge in mainly because of worries about ensuring haya or modesty. Muslim men are supposed to cover the area between the knees and navel at all times (don’t get me started on school dressing rooms). So I took my trusted lungi along (a sort of sarong from the sub-continent as modelled by fishermen and rickshaw drivers). The whole thing was quite traumatising. As soon as you enter, you are ushered to changing rooms then the sauna. There was a line of menacing looking moustachioed Svengalis that you had to pass. As it was the slow season there were very few clients and loads of them waiting ready to pounce on their next victim.

The hamam in itself, like all things Ottaman, was a beautiful marble clad steam room where I was made to sweat for about twenty minutes before Tahir, my stout and very strong masseuse stepped in. After showing me how dirty I was and scrubbing me till my skin was raw, he proceeded to ‘massage’ by back, neck, arms and stomach. I swear I thought I was going to pass out at one stage. When it was over, I pointed to my right shoulder which had been giving me some problems and he promptly went back to work kneading, pulling, stretching and scrunching and in general inducing more pain than I had ever experienced before. I think the tactic was to cause more physical distress so that the original problem pales into insignificance. If you ever wondered where the CIA, KGB and Saddam Hussein recruited the men for their torture chambers, Turkish baths may not be a bad place to start. At the end of it all and after stepping back into the real world I did feel strangely invigorated and refreshed.

Apart from that we fitted quite a bit in to our short stay including a trip to the Fatih district, a round trip around the Bosphorous straights (with breathtaking sunset views of Istanbul) and grand bazaar trip where Mrs C bought two fake leather handbags.

PS. I was going to post some pictures but it takes for ever on dial-up.

450 Chickens, 6 goats, 2 cows and a partridge in a pear tree

2006-01-06T08:36:00.000Z

That’s what it took for the ‘wedding’ function banquet in the home town of Moulvi Bazar (not the partridge of course). All except the two legged animals were slaughtered by my dad. Having seen this all before this was nothing new for me but Teacher C, Little Miss C and Mad Cow (my sister in law) had never seen how their kebabs got to the dinner table wanted a front row seat – and that’s what they got. Cows and goats were brought in, subdued and quickly slaughtered in the traditional Islamic manner, jugular vein slit whilst saying ‘Bismillah Allah Akbar’ and it was then all over very quickly. The three voyeurs were sat yards away and recorded it all on camcorders for those interested in a certain type of snuff movie.

I had previously wondered how it was possible that so much halal meat was available in the UK without using mechanical slaughter methods used in most abattoirs, but the speed with which the chickens were dispatched reassured me that it was possible for livestock to be slaughtered quickly and remain halal. Not that it helps win arguments with vegetarians though.

The function itself went well which was essentially just the serving up of the aforementioned livestock. It seemed like the whole town was invited and of course I did not recognise most people including those who came up to have photos taken next to us. The guest of honour was my wife’s grandfather a prominent personality in Bangladesh’s political life and it seems that most if not all came along to see him. It was all slightly bemusing and press photographers came along to take pictures for the newspapers as well as armed police to provide protection.

One of my personal highlights of any trip to Bangladesh is a stay at my Nana’s (maternal grandfather) home. I say home but apart from the house which is pretty much just a large tin shed with some modern amenities, the grounds on which it is sited is quite impressive. There are three lakes (two large and one small) used as fisheries, acres and acres of fruit trees of almost all indigenous varieties planted by my Nana himself and plenty of paddy fields.

Being a city dweller, the remoteness and sedate pace of rural life was a refreshing change to the traffic jams, blaring horns and general hullabaloo of town/city life. Cows are still used to tread on the paddy to separate rice grain from the stalk. A sign of modernity added to the age old techniques was the use of large fans to help separate the chaff from the grain. Previously you had to rely on several hours of back breaking work of chucking the grain/chaff mix high into the air and let gravity and natural breeze do the work. I wonder if in a few years time whether the cows will still be used even though they have been around for thousands of years. Unfortunately few people actually stay here now, most having moved to the city for the benefit of the next generation’s education.

The story of how my Nana and his brother’s came to settle down there is interesting in itself. They are originally from what is now India in the Assam province. After independence from British rule, the colony was split into two, Pakistan (East and West) and India. This led to one of the largest forced migrations of Muslims from India and Hindus from East and West Pakistan with associated looting, rioting and mayhem (that’s the PG version). The land that my Nana ended up living in was one of those abandoned by a rich Hindu family and taken over in a ‘reciprocal’ arrangement for those Muslims made land-less in India like my grandparents. The thumbnail sketch over looks some of the legal and physical obstacles that had to be overcome to hold on to it though – land disputes cases take up something like 90% of civil law cases in Bangladesh.

We’re now on our last day in Istanbul. I’ve fallen behind in my blogs so am slightly out of sync. I’ll write about this when we get to Cairo.

PS. If you want to see some pictures of Bangladesh go to www.bouquetofdreams.blogspot.com

Bangladesh

2006-01-02T06:45:00.000Z

We’re now back from Bangladesh. As you might have guessed from my lack of previous blog, I managed to get my revalidated flight the next day and obtain a visa in Dhaka – without any hint of baksheesh or bribe to oil the wheels (Bangladesh regularly features in the league of most corrupt nations). In fact the whole thing was so straight forward, you wonder why I had to go through all that stress. I was thinking about writing a stroppy letter but six of us got upgraded to Business Class on the way back so I may just let it drop and put it down to experience. Normally I don't agree with nepotism, but if your wife's maternal aunt's husband's first cousin happens to work for Qatar airlines at Dhaka International Airport and upgrades us, who am I to complain!

So first, apologies for not blogging once throughout my whole time in Bangladesh! There was a distinct shortage of internet cafes in the secondary provincial towns we were staying at as well as lack of time in our itinerary. Suffice it to say, it was very busy, with on some days visiting five to six houses a day (eating at each of these). We never slept in one place for more than a couple of days and must have clocked thousands of miles on plane, automobiles and rickshaws. At least no one got (seriously) ill, the ‘wedding’ functions went relatively well and every one was pleased to see us and made us feel most welcome.

Bangladesh can be a diverse country and your experience of it depends on how much cash you have. To keep my numeric friends happy, £1 = 114 Bangladeshi Taka at time of writing. A haircut (with beard trimming for moi) costs 50 taka, a loaf of bread 20 taka, the latest DVD about 80 taka and Harry Potter book 150 taka. So you can see being loaded with sterling means you can live very comfortably if that’s what you want.

In fact there is a word for those who work/live in the UK and own property and land in Bangladesh – ‘Londoni’. We saw some of the houses that Londonis were raising out of paddy fields and my were they lavish! Some of them looked like they were transported out of scenes from Gone With the Wind and would not look out of place in the Deep South. But the tragedy is that most will probably remain empty for most of the year as their families settle in the west and these status symbols will decay. My father told me of one such Londoni who built a small palace and only lived in it for three months before passing away – the house is now split in to three and rented out.

To satisfy the extremely wealthy, massive shopping centres have been built in the capital city. The whole of Bangladesh seems to be undergoing a construction boom (with land scarce, tower blocks are sprouting up all over the place). Boshundara City, the largest and plushest of these shopping centres, in my opinion rivals any in the UK. We spent many hours roaming through the DVD and sari shops. The DVD collection has been boosted quite nicely now.

One of the most conspicuous symbols of the secular elite life style is the Dhaka Club. I had originally thought that this was just a high-class restaurant and was shocked at the out of place decadence. The Dhaka Club was founded in British colonial times and every thing associated with the club is a throw back to those times, which includes rules such as no children and strict dress code. The members see themselves as superior to the masses and in some ways act as the new colonials with their mega wealth – probably through ill-gotten gains. Nowadays it just has a reputation for boozing, gambling and as a ‘gentleman’s’ club for the new elite. I won’t be going back – the food was not even that good.

Right now I’m getting ready for Egypt so I’ll write more about the functions and rural (read real) life later.

Disaster! (Short term one)

2005-12-17T16:58:00.000Z

As you all know, this sabbatical and extended leave has been in the planning for a long time now. Last minute packing aside (which for the benefit of the doubting Thomas’s out there went swimmingly) everything seemed to be on course for an inauspicious start.. Little was I aware that fate was about to play its hand.

Ever the dutiful son, brother and husband, I had carefully arranged and booked my family’s tickets and visas a long time ago. I had thought that everything was taken care of when a classic lesson of Not Taking Things For Granted was taught to old Mr.C (yes, I will turn 30 by the time I’m back). What I had of course forgotten to do was to check that I had a visa! Not a normal oversight you understand. Having been to Bangladesh about 5 times in the last 10 years, what I had forgotten was that I renewed my passport since the last visit so would also have to renew the visa. Duh!

In normal circumstances this is not such a big deal. You get to the other side and cough up $50 and Bob’s your uncle. However I had the misfortune, for the second time this week, to be on the wrong end of Small Man Syndrome. Nothing pleases uniformed petty officialdom than a minor clerical infraction. Not withstanding fear of liable, lets for arguments sake call him Prittesh Bhatt.

Now, I admit that I should have had a visa, but despite airlines having a process for making passengers indemnify them against the cost of the consequences of transporting passengers without valid documentation, this short man refused to let me on. I was fully prepared to burn plastic and sign anything that would cover the £2k that they would have been fined had I been arrested, incarcerated and sent back from Dhaka in shame in an orange jump suit, but no, this jumped up so and so smiled profusely and said he could do no more. He did however suggest that if I had an old passport with a similar visa, he could let me on, knowing fully well that there was no time to get this to him.

So we switch to sympathy. Surely any man would wilt at the thought of a ‘groom’ missing out on a ‘wedding’ function that loads of relatives around the world would be coming to – many on his own airline. Suffice it to say, it did not work and I had to be resigned to letting a now tearful Mrs C go on her own. (please comment on her blog to cheer her up)

Plan B was to get my old passport (with required visa) to Heathrow (I was at Gatwick), satisfy the staff there that I was kosher (so to speak), sign the indemnity and get a stand-by ticket. All of this actually did happen as the Heathrow staff were much more helpful, and I was left ‘hoping’ to benefit from some unknown passengers’ misfortune so I could be allocated their ticket. But they don’t call it the busy season for nothing – and there were no spare seats to be had.

The silver lining in this tale of woe, is that at least I managed to feign complete desperation at missing my ‘wedding’ long enough for a nice lady to ‘confirm’ new flights for tomorrow. But I won’t be Taking Things For Granted until I’m sitting on that plane from Gatwick. If I blog again tomorrow, you’ll know things really have gone skew-whiff.

Well I need some sleep – I’m cream crackered. Until the next time when Inshallah I will tell you of my adventures in the twighlight zone of Bangladeshi immigration. I shall have readies at the ready!

Any way, everything happens for a reason – you just don’t always know why.

Bleak House

2005-12-09T11:14:00.000Z

Now that Mrs C Snr, Little Ms C and Nana C (I’ll think up some better pseudonyms later) have blazed a trail to Bangladesh, the house feels a little quiet without them. Apart from the reverberations from a hacking cough that has kept Teacher C from her east-end midgets for nearly a week now, it is eerily silent. You begin to miss Nana C’s outbursts and exclamations on the news events of the day (usually misunderstood, inappropriate and non-PC). Anyway they’ve got there safely and at least Mrs C will have the kitchen to herself and can’t complain if someone throws away the gravy stock thinking its dirty water! Too many cooks and all that…

Which reminds me – it’s been one year since we got married! Or has it. Well it depends what you count as marriage and the calendar you choose to follow (handy flexibility to get me out of a scrape in case I forget – which will happen one of these days). A brief explanation for the uninitiated is in order here.

The Islamic calendar (known as Hijri translated as emigration) has at its starting date the year in which the prophet Muhammad (pbuh) migrated from Makkah to Madinah to flee persecution. This was according the standard Gregorian calendar in approximately July 622. It was introduced by Umar bin Khattab (the second caliph) as the agreed seminal turning point for the nascent Islamic community. After the emigration to Madinah (formerly known as Yathrib), the Muslims were able to organize and establish the first real Muslim "community," with social, political, and economic independence. Life in Madinah allowed the Muslim community to mature and strengthen, and the people developed an entire society based on Islamic principles. In addition to that Islamic months are based on lunar cycles (i.e. 28/29 days) or rather the sighting of the crescent moon which means that the months seem to move forward against the standard Gregorian calendar. This is why Ramadan creeps forward by about 10 days each year. Everyone keeping up so far?

So I have a number of permutations to go by. These are;

1. Islamic Marriage and Islamic Calendar,
2. Islamic Marriage and Gregorian Calendar,
3. Civil Marriage and Islamic Calendar, and
4. Civil Marriage and Gregorian Calendar.

Any suggestions which ones to go for?

So the date on which we got married was Sunday 19th December 2004 or according to the Hijri date 7 Dhul Q’ada 1425. According to calendar conversion software, 7 Dhul Q’ada 1426 was on the 8 December 2005! Yikes! – that was yesterday. I may be in some trouble. The house may become even more bleak. But then again19 December 2006 is in 10 days time. I could be reprieved (ever the optimist :))

Which brings me to another question. What is a good paper-based first anniversary present? Feel free to comment.

Oh and as no one in the world answered the question correctly, and I’m sure you’re all dying to know, the mountain in Wales is Blorange.

Sporange

2005-12-07T11:13:00.000Z

More about the title word later. Plans and packing are ongoing at C household for the trip to Bangladesh. This is phase 1 of the ramble. Ostensibly we are going to visit those who were not able to come to the summer functions of our marriage. As Mrs C and I have a large extended family (note understated tone) we have decided to invite them all round for two large gatherings (in Dhaka and Syhlet) so we don’t get exhausted and bloated my eating hundreds of sumptuous dinners. This is not to be mistaken for wedding party 4 and 5 (or was it 5 and 6 – I’m losing count!).

Anyway 3 Cs will be departing tomorrow together with about 50 bags. There’s too much drama in packing – I’d prefer to leave everything to the last minute. It’s amazing to know what you can live without – and if it’s important enough you can always buy it out there.

Back to Sporange. Occasionally busy office life is interspersed with random deep and meaningful conversations about the meaning of life and where are we all going and all that. Yesterday’s question was – is there a word that rhymes with orange? After much consternation, Mr T (my indispensable colleague) claimed that he had invented a word – sporange – to represent the cow-lick/matted feel to hair you get after wearing a baseball cap or construction hard hat for a long time. He has even sent emissaries to the far corners of Bicester to spread the message. Sadly for him, a simple question to the modern day Oracle of Delphi – Google – revealed that it is in fact a French word for a type of spore or fungus. Nice try Mr T. As for the answer to the question – there is a name of a Welsh mountain. Answers on the comments please.

More serious stuff next time.

And so it begins....

2005-12-03T17:23:00.000Z

Assalamu alaikum,

Following a well trodden path into the blogging world, I can legitimately be called a johnny-come-lately to the slightly barmy realm of the 'blogosphere'. So why do I feel the need? Surely a well adjusted man doesn't need to open up his private thoughts to the universe (well those who accidently come across this and a handful of others duly invited).

Why 'ramblesofmrc'? Well its a double edged of sword (or two birds with one of stone - which ever you prefer). As we set off on our travels (rambles) over the coming months I may decide to diarise my thoughts (rambles) on the issues or events of the day. Clever eh? It also lets any one who cares to know what I'm up to by forgoing a positive obligation to keep in touch. However I may end up of joining the circa tens of thousands of abondoned blogs started with good intentions - we'll see.

The e-world of Mr C will gradually unfold in the yet to be written pages. I give you no guarantees of either entertainment or amusement - although you may become more informed - join me if you wish.

'The mere physicist is like an ant who, crawling on a sheet of paper and observing black letters spreading over it, should refer the Cause to the pen alone.'