Culture Wars

First off, let me apologize for the girly picture.  Bear with me, there is a point to this (beyond my own infamously prurient nature, of course).  This is a picture of an ad featured in a magazine I found while killing time at a Mugg & Bean coffeeshop in the Mushrif Mall in Abu Dhabi.  Granted, it is amusing/offensive on several levels, not the least of which is the always successful appeal to male fears of waning virility.  However, what I find most interesting are the black lines which attempt, clumsily, to cover up the more "offensive" parts of the woman.  As you might guess, those are lines from a black marker which some Emirati official used in an ineffectual attempt at censorship.  My grandfather Herbert, the Hoosier philosopher, to allay my fears, would tell me that when I saw a snake I should remember that the snake is actually far more afraid of me than I am of it.  The same can also be said for our relationship with the Islamic world.  Despite our well-documented fear of this part of the world, mainly whipped up by the increasingly hysterical right wing, the truth is that Muslims are far more afraid of the U.S., and not because of our military might.  Rather, they are afraid, rightly so, of the cultural might of America and the concomitant worldview.  The point is not whether or not that worldview is better or worse than the prevailing worldview (as with most things it is a little bit of both), but that it inspires some very tangible fear, which might manifest itself as anti-U.S. riots in the street or something as seemingly harmless as black marks in magazines.  The reality is that very few Americans actually have any contact, even tangentially, with any aspect of the Islamic world, whereas America touches the lives of every Muslim.

If you are reduced to using a black marker to color out the naughty bits of women in magazines you are taking a serious pounding in the culture wars.

Exorcising Demons

I am back safe and sound in Vermont after my year in the UAE - and a glorious five day visit to the UK (more on that later).  In addition to buying a car and organizing an apartment and getting caught up on a year of mail, I'm also preparing for classes to start next week.  For the first time in fifteen years I will not be serving as an administrator, and will be returning full-time to the classroom.  Teaching is my first love and being able to devote all of my attention to my students without balancing the endless demands of running an international program (as much as I believe in the Global Modules vision and am proud of what we accomplished) just feels like a gift.  I'll also be devoting serious time to some long-delayed writing projects, including the epics book which was supposed to be the topic of my sabbatical before the unexpected Zayed offer.  So, I'm excited to launch this chapter of my life, even though I can also see it lasting only a year. I'm at the point in my life when what matters most to me is being happy and contented, and I can easily see how the pursuit of that quest could lead me pretty far afield.  Yes, Dorothy, there may be no place like home, but who can say where home is?

Here I am on the famous/infamous Exorcist stairs in Washinton, DC, as part of last year's Trip of Excellence.  What better place to exorcise personal and professional demons?

Doors of Sana'a

Guess I've been thinking a lot about Yemen, and also about closing old doors and opening new ones.

Lucca

"It's the woman in you that makes you want to play this game."

Neil Young, Cowgirl in the Sand

Packing Once More

And since I mentioned packing, here's evidence of my limited progress.  It's funny to think after all these months I'm now down to just a few days.  And so I'm launching yet another new chapter in my life.  Right now it looks like I'm heading back to the Woolen Mill in Winooski, where I first lived during my separation. It seems like I've fallen into the trap of an endless series of one year stays: the first year in the Woolen Mill, a year acting as faculty in residence at Quarry Hill, a year here in Abu Dhabi, and now another year at the Woolen Mill.  It would be nice to settle in for a longer stretch - I'm getting a little road weary; sort of an extended version of that seven week/seven country trip from a few summers ago.  Truthfully, I have mixed emotions about returning, and part of me would almost prefer to stay in Abu Dhabi and carry on with the life I've built here.

Well, at the very least Monkey is really excited to begin the trip home.  Now, how do I get everything in three suitcases and two carry-ons?

Songs: Tecumseh Valley

I am way too busy finishing up my global course redesign work and packing to leave Abu Dhabi to give this song and this songwriter the attention they so richly deserve, but I've been listening to the Rear View Mirror, a live album from Townes Van Zandt, for about a week straight and it refuses to be ignored.  Here's a link to the song Tecumseh Valley, which may be the saddest song ever written.  I came to Townes Van Zandt only recently, and as is so often the case it was because of a very strong endorsement from my best friend David Kelley from Cincinnati.  I don't have the time to go into the life story of Van Zandt, suffice it to say that it is every bit as sad as his songs.  Through it all - or maybe because of it - he was an extraordinary songwriter, and a poet in the purest sense.  Now, a good question is why am I so drawn to this song (beyond the obvious fact that it is beautifully written and performed)?  Part of it relates to the fact that in an age of surface level superficiality it is increasingly difficult to find anything that is authentic, and, like him or not, Townes Van Zandt is authentic.  In addition, I like it because, as I said, it's a really sad song, and I love really sad songs.  So, why?  That's a tough one, but I always have.  I'm sure that's what led me to my love of people like Neil Young and Lucinda Williams, who I still think are the greatest songwriters of the last half-century.  It's not because I need any more unhappiness in my life - I've had my share, thanks.  It could just be that I equate sadness with authenticity, with some profound and essential truth.  I've always joked with my students that I'm deeply mistrustful of happy people, although, in a way, I don't think it's really a joke.  Guess I need to ponder on this some more, and maybe this is a post that I'll revisit and expand in the future.  Now, back to writing and packing.  In the meantime, give a listen to Townes Van Zandt's Tecumseh Valley and let me know what you think.

Ramadan Kareem!

First off, Ramadan Kareem!

Despite my many trips to the Middle East, this is my first Ramadan.  I'll definitely have more to say about it later, but suffice it to say that it just feels different than the rest of the year.  Working hours are reduced and tremendous emphasis is placed on spending even more time with family, as well as volunteerism and spiritual reflection.  People, Muslim and non-Muslim alike, are simply kinder and more patient.  The difference is tangible. 

By way of explaining it to my Christian friends back home, and if my Islamic friends will allow, I'll just quote Ebenezer Scrooge's nephew Fred when, talking about Christmas, he proposed, "There are many things from which I might have derived good, by which I have not profited, I dare say.  Christmas among the rest.  But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round -- apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anhything belonging to it can be apart from that -- as a good time: a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys.  And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!"  And although I am not a Muslim, and paraphrasing Dickens, I think Ramadan has done me good, and I say God bless it.  It's a lonely time for me simply because all of my Champlain friends are, well, at Champlain, and my Zayed friends have mostly left for the summer.  Fortunately, my sister Lisa and nephew Garrett visited during the first few days of Ramadan, so I was able to have my own mini-versions of Iftar (the meal in evening that breaks the fast).  I've devoted more time to reading, listening to music and quiet reflection - and thinking about what really matters in the world.

I'll almost certainly have more to say about it later, but let me throw in a couple more quick thoughts.  When Americans think about Ramadan almost inevitably the first thing we think about is the concept of fasting.  This is probably because we eat way too much, and the concept of any sort of self-sacrifice is sadly almost anathema to us.  Yes, Muslims almost universally refrain from food, water or smoking during the daylight hours of Ramadan.  Certainly, there are allowances made in cases of illness or old age.  In my mind this is another one of those cases where the more secular mindset of Americans runs counter to the more secular worldview of much of the rest of the planet.  Whereas as Americans we might view it as a case of having to pray five times a day or having to fast as compared to choosing to pray five times a day or choosing to fast.  Obviously it is very difficult to fast, especially now when Ramadan has fallen in the middle of summer with temperatures routinely hitting 112 F (and a heat index in the upper 120s F).  It is made more difficult by the length of the days, and I saw a report the other day where someone proposed that this was going to be the longest Ramadan in memory, factoring in the long days of mid-summer.

So, where does that leave non-Muslims living in an Islamic country during Ramadan?  It is not as difficult as you might imagine, although there are definitely limitations and challenges.  All restaurants and cafes are closed during daylight hours, so if you're planning a long day trip you have to take that into account (when was the last time you ever went to a mall without getting something to eat or drink?).  The Emiratis are very serious about Ramadan and expect non-Muslims to show respect for their traditions by not eating or drinking or smoking in public during daylight hours.  However, they have not followed the example of the Saudis who recently threatened any offending non-Muslim with instant deportation (a decision that drew very harsh criticism from the Muslims that I follow on twitter; paraphrasing my favorite tweet "wallah? this is what Ramadan is about?").  Essentially, the Emiratis just want you to be respectful and eat or drink or smoke in private, and will often set up what are called Non-Fasting Areas in work places to facilitate it.  I have yet to see anyone called on it by any Emirati official.  What I find interesting is that I've found myself quite irritated by my fellow westerners breaking these rules.  The other day Lisa, Garrett and I went to the Mall of Dubai to go to the top of the Burj Khalifa (more on that later).  All of the restaurants were closed, but for some reason the Subway in the mall was open and it was selling sandwiches to go, which I suppose was the mall's way to dealing with westerners who were just not used to the concept of fasing - or God forbid were just so clueless that they didn't know it was Ramadan.  Both my nephew and I were horrified when some Americans just grabbed their sandwiches and went outside the door and began stuffing their faces as if they had just wandered in after forty days in the desert.  Garrett had a very interesting response to Ramadan and fasting.  At the mall he walked out of the restroom and, without thinking, grabbed a quick drink from the water fountain.  He realized what he had done immediately.  No Muslim said anything to him, but he was mortified by what he had done and felt sincerely bad.  Essentially, he had called himself on it.  The next day he actually fasted all day to make amends; his own decision.  I had to admire him, although his mother and I had to put up with his late afternoon grouchyness.

The common room where I live.  In the background you can see the curtains that were put up during Ramadan.  The folks who stay here are mainly ex-pats so we have our normal eating hours in the morning and evening, but we do so in private.