tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46442733118652113202024-02-19T06:44:25.736-08:00Loundja: An Algerian woman throwing in her two centsThoughts on my country, on motherhood, and everything that tickles my appetite for moaningLoundjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455510333569587790noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644273311865211320.post-45934073214436496552023-04-26T13:37:00.000-07:002023-04-26T13:37:58.273-07:00Painful Wonderings <p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">As I took my seat on the train this morning, I looked out of the window in the hope of catching a glimpse of the sun. Not to my surprise, the heavens were still adamant that it was non grata on their premises despite it being April. Stubborn at they are, they would not budge to grant the sun the joy of weaving its rays, and caressing our skin so hungry for its touch and warmth.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">The scenery was the usual flat green space with new houses dotted around randomly as if someone closed their eyes and sprinkled them around on the ground… the view was hardly one to take one’s breath away. My gaze turned to the people inside the train instead. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">A pre-teen boy was sat a few seats down the train carriage opposite me; he caught my attention when he stood up to help an old lady with her luggage. This sight triggered my motherly mind which started wondering as it does sometimes… I started thinking about the baby boy that I had and who would have been of a similar age to this boy…wondering about what he would have looked like now, what likes and dislikes he would have had… about which sister he would have been drawn to most… whether he would have had the British stiff upper lip or the Algerian fieriness…<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">With the football chants from fans on the train growing louder, I wondered if he would have liked football, about how my life would have turned out had he fought harder for his life…<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I wish he knew that he gave me so much joy on the day he was born that I said I wanted to have 10 children. I wish he knew that there was a beautiful world out there… he who saw of this world nothing but the harsh lights of the NICU and its uniformed staff…he who came to this world too soon…he who after 2 agonising months, on a fateful April day, 12 years ago stopped his fight, he whose mention gives me misty eyes but I have learnt to control the tears…<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">He who lies beneath the ground thousands of miles away from me, my only solace is that the sun is shining over him constantly. <o:p></o:p></p>Loundjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455510333569587790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644273311865211320.post-65428493381250591532020-04-18T14:42:00.000-07:002020-04-26T05:52:34.516-07:00Some clarity in murky waters <div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
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<span lang="EN-US">With lockdowns and death of social life, I have taken to Twitter to vent off my frustration with the way the British government has been handling the Covid-19 pandemic. But, as my screen time increased so did my frustration with the amount of misinformation that it out there on many scientific questions and one of these is how the drug development process works. So, I see it fitting to shed some light on how the sometimes very precious medicines make their way to you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The drug development industry is one of the most if not the most regulated industry in the world, all aspects of drug development from the conception of the molecule in the laboratory to the day the last patient in any clinical trial has taken the medicine have to be documented, inspected, reviewed and contested before any medicine gets the green light to be marketed and then make its way to the patient. The reason this industry is heavily regulated is due to some disasters that happened in the past from the Nuremberg trials where Nazi doctors were conducting human experiments on concentration camp prisoners to the Thalidomide scandal to name just a few. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The first step in the development for novel therapeutic molecules is to make sure they show efficacy which is another way of saying that they have the potential to treat an ailment. This is usually done in vitro, if there is a glimpse of evidence that the molecule has a beneficial effect, animal studies can be the next step in the process. These studies will have to be conducted according to guidelines, and the safety of the product has to be assessed in these models. For some indications, there exist animals exhibiting symptoms of the studied condition but these are not available for all indications. Experimentation on animal models is conducted by utilizing multiple concentrations and multiple dosings of the product under investigation. If the animal data show that the product has the potential to be well-tolerated, then the move to clinical trials can be considered. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The move to the clinical phase of the development is when regulatory agencies such as the FDA which act as the police of the pharma industry start getting involved. For large companies with extensive development experience, the move can be smooth as they have an army of staff with all expertise required. For smaller companies, regulatory agencies tend to take them by the hand offering them incentives, reduced fees and scientific advice. The latter procedure is when the company has a set of questions on the drug development process that they would like to discuss and get validated and through this procedure they can tap into the expertise offered by regulatory agencies around the world. It is of note that most if not all sovereign countries around the world have regulatory agencies. The G7 countries have the largest and most experienced staff but countries rich and poor have committees in place to study and decide whether to approve procedures based on the evidence presented in documents submitted by pharma companies. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">For any company to start a clinical trial, a dossier needs to be compiled this is called the clinical trial application. In this application the drug developer needs to have the protocol that is like a manual to be followed by investigators (clinicians) and staff at the sites where the clinical trial will be taking place in addition to other technical documents detailing the efficacy and quality and safety tests that have been conducted to show that the product is fairly safe to proceed to usage in humans. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Phase I trial is the first-in man, this is the riskiest of all phases for participants, and it usually is conducted on healthy volunteers unless it is unethical to do so (e.g. drugs known to have serious side effects that a healthy patient should not be exposed to). This phase usually focuses on showing safety and involves a small number of volunteers. The drug developer needs an approval from each nation where the trial takes place. This comes after studying the dossier submitted and getting an ethics committee involved to approve the trial. Ethics committees look at whether the way the study is designed ensures the safety and integrity of trial subjects. They have doctors, lawyers, as well as patients in these committees. Not many nations allow phase I trials to be conducted on their people but countries in the EU, as well as the US and Canada and South Korea do allow phase I trials because they can monitor patients in case of serious incidents following the administration of the drug. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">If all goes well, then the drug developer can move to phase 2, which is a larger trial where both efficacy (proof of concept) and safety are assessed. Some phase 2 trials are used to identify the best dose (safest and most efficacious). These trials are usually multi-center conducted in several countries around the world. An approval needs to be received for this phase from each regulatory agency in each country where the trial is conducted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">If phase 2 trials show evidence that the drug under investigation has the potential to show some efficacy in a larger population then the move goes to phase 3. This phase is a decisive phase in dug development. A huge proportion of trials do not make it past phase 2, but once phase 3 starts, there is a lot at stakes. The trial in this phase are usually designed to show efficacy either in comparison to a placebo (rare these days) or another drug that is thought to be not do good and is already in use by doctors. Phase 3 trials can include even 40-50 countries, with multiple sites in each country. The same process of approval is needed as in phase I and 2, but at this stage, more animal and human data is available and drug developers are scrutinized more by the regulators. Approvals can take months to be handed to them by regulators. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">In general, trials can take from 1 to 4 or 6 years, and the length varies depending on the indication to be treated, the prevalence of the disease and the speed of recruiting the patients. Rare diseases are very hard to recruit for and trials for these would only include 10-20 patients sometimes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">If all goes well, and it seldom does, the drug developer now has data from phase 3 trials to suggest that the drug is efficacious and superior to either placebo or standard of care. To show this the trial would have been designed to include enough patients (powered) to show that any difference between the treatment group and the placebo group could not be due to chance or in other words proving that the null hypothesis in wrong. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">During the clinical trials, the drug developer would have started to has to prepare a marketing authorization application. In this application all the details of the development need to be documented. This is a colossal dossier especially if the drug is a novel molecule. The experts in the agency make sure that all the guidance laid out by the regulators (e.g. FDA and EMA) have been followed and that the quality of the product is ensured as well as safety and the claimed efficacy can be verified. Questions are asked by regulators at every step of the process, and every regulatory agency can have its own questions that need to be answered in a timely manner with very tight deadlines.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">If the evidence to suggest that the drug under investigation has a favorable benefit/risk profile i.e. the benefits from taking the drug to treat an indication outweigh the potential risks associated with it, the drug receives a marketing authorization or a license and can be marketed. However, it does not all stop here, pricing and reimbursement have to then be negotiated with governments around the world before the product can be placed on the market. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The whole process takes years and years, but for serious diseases like cancer, the process can be sped up as there is a potential for accelerated reviews if drug has the potential to save lives as is the case with Covid-19. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
Loundjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455510333569587790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644273311865211320.post-63813020605758173672020-04-09T07:53:00.001-07:002020-04-09T07:53:25.946-07:00The good, the bad and the ugly <br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As humanity finds itself in unchartered waters trying to steer away from an invisible enemy, our interconnectedness as human beings has never been more apparent. We are living at a time when a pandemic is sweeping across the planet at unprecedented pace, reshaping the post-modern world as we know it. The incubation period of many viruses which would have elapsed during travel in the olden days seems to be long enough now for these to cross continents in a matter of days. The speed of travel and the pace of life that we have become accustomed to is now coming back to haunt us.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This virus is not a great leveller, those who are considered to be at the bottom of the heap by society are paying a high price during this pandemic. Reports are showing us that wealth and privilege play a great part on deciding who lives and who dies. As I see this pandemic emphasising the inequality of societies around the world, I cannot help but draw parallels with scenes from the epic movie Titanic. First class passengers being the first to evade the sinking ship with guaranteed comfort whilst the lower classes are left to perish in the cold waters.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This pandemic has brought out the worst in people; we are seeing how companies are profiteering in trading with people’s lives by hiking prices of essential life-saving equipment, how air piracy has become a norm with world leaders literally stealing medical equipment destined for others, and how the blaming fingers of politicians are trying to find a scapegoat to divert attention away from their utter failures in dealing with the crisis.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Amidst all this <span style="color: #222222;">heinousness, the planet is now breathing, neighbours are talking to each, families are getting to know each other and society is already thinking how to make the world a fairer place where the next pandemic will be easier to handle. </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Loundjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455510333569587790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644273311865211320.post-1968317218734160722019-04-11T11:21:00.002-07:002019-04-11T11:21:15.422-07:00Beauty and The Beast<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
In 2008, when the world’s eyes were turned to a new kid in the block, giving a victory speech in one of the most historic passings of power in recent history, thousands of miles away, another history was being made. The president of Algeria was to change the constitution to allow himself to stay “with” the presidency until death do them part. <o:p></o:p></div>
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When Bouteflika was brought in by the army in 1999, Algeria was trying to turn the page on one of the most difficult and darkest chapters in its history. A decade of blood and terror where the struggle to survive and the fear of facing death was the daily routine of all Algerians. A few years into his rule, peace-in the form of decrease in the number of massacres-started to crawl back into our lives; daily news of death was not the norm anymore, and life started to go back to normality, except that everything had changed, and society was never to be the same again. Suspicion of the other meant that people started to withdraw into self-inflicted confinements, and apathy started to reign. Public space was confiscated from Algerians by the regime in place and the ghost of the black decade was always hovering around to deter people from any attempt of change. The people had divorced their country, their regime and each other.<o:p></o:p></div>
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With all this apathy, a new beast was growing, fuelled by soaring oil prices, the appalling management of public money meant that anything was up for grabs. Algeria was the new Eldorado where anyone who wanted to make a quick buck would go to. The regime running the country continued to deteriorate and became a mafia in all sense of the word, and as the oil prices started to plummet, the mafia had to find new ways to satisfy its insatiable appetite for money, this meant that illegal trading, money laundering and drug dealing was also on the table; the mafia was pushing the country into a dystopia.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My family like many other families had to think of ways to survive in a country under regime that cared for no one and where everyone was for themselves. Water supplied by the government is not trusted for consumption so my dad started a weekly trip to a spring to fill jerrycans with clean water to use for cooking and for drinking as bottled water would not be sufficient. Meat was sourced directly from farms as my sister, an inspector of food quality warned of the dangers of meat consumption, hospitals were to be avoided at all cost as my sister who is a doctor warned against these. Our cities became open air prisons, and got uglier by the day, so trips to the countryside were our escape from small living spaces and eyesores mushrooming like there is no tomorrow. <o:p></o:p></div>
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As the beast grew bigger, it engulfed every corner of the country and every fabric of society, very few were those who resisted the regime and its practices. But as history has it, against the backdrop of all this chaos, a new beautiful generation which saw the pain, the chaos, and the injustice, and witnessed on a daily basis the further descent of the country into an abyss was waiting for the right moment; it seized it in the most beautiful way , it broke the silence and lifted the fear and the rest is very recent history.<o:p></o:p></div>
Loundjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455510333569587790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644273311865211320.post-12904035685736002812017-11-23T15:24:00.000-08:002017-11-23T15:29:50.820-08:00Back in Blighty<span style="font-family: "calibri";">"You must be mad!”. This is how friends and family <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>greeted my decision to return to England after
leaving it some years ago. Four cities and three countries later, I find myself
in the town that I used to love so very much, but which I had to leave for
greener pastures. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I do question my sanity when I look
out of the window and cannot tell whether it is morning or afternoon because of
the constant dark aura that wraps this country in the autumn months, or when I
look at the sky and the dreary greyness is all I can see. I sometimes wonder if
it was the right decision when I think of all the taxes we pay and how
childcare fees make you think that you get punished for having children in this
country.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I left England because I was lonely, I wanted to be close to
family. London was great, it offered me everything I dreamed of as a youngster,
yet hitting the age of 30 and having no kids and no family around me made me unhappy.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I convinced my husband that brining up
kids in a good area of London without having a million pounds stashed away was
going to be impossible. I could not see myself continuing to take the tube or public
transport beyond the age of 30 or as a pregnant lady, inhaling all the horrible
black dust on the underground… <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Aside
from the vibrant atmosphere of the city and the illusion that you are somewhat
important just because you happen to wear a suit and take a boat to a business
meeting, there was nothing to keep us in London, so move away we did. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">When I left, I wanted to be somewhere that offered me
everything; the family, the children, the sun, and the money. Above all, I
wanted a new beginning. Fast forward a few years, my decision, which was great
for my social life did not seem to do much for my career. My freelance business
never really took off and I had enough of sponging off my husband. So after a
few years of dwindling income, I decided it was time to head back to
England<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to spend more years working in a
box, looking at a box and dealing with people who cannot think outside the box,
aka the corporate world. Now that I am back, I sit in front of a box all day
making sure I clock up enough years, serving my corporate sentence so that I
can be free again. For a rebel like me, every day is an agony mostly because of
the red tape that exists everywhere. People follow procedures blindly and seem
to leave their common sense and brain at home before heading for work. What the
business world calls streamlining, I label dumbing down and automating tasks so
that work becomes merely a robotic repetitive mechanism. Sitting at your desk
wishing your life away until the weekend is what I do. But the weekend is not a
time for fun anymore. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">We left as <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">2 </span>and now
we are 4. Life with young children is very different; nothing prepares you for
it. What seemed like a given before is now a luxury-at least in this country. Life
for middle class families here is hard. Finding Alibaba’s treasure cave is easier than
finding decent childcare. Nurseries are run by half-wits who cannot even spell
and who hate looking after children; <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>but
they ask for astronomical amounts of money. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">As parents, we run from school to nursery (which are never
near each other) to after school activities to nowhere. The weekends are spent
trying to entertain the kids or get ready for a new school week. Nannies and babysitters
are so fussy that you think they are doing it for free. As a result, your
social life as an adult away from the kids becomes non-existent <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">In all this chaos, you find pleasure in knowing that your
kid attends an outstanding school and seeing them thrive there makes all the
agony worthwhile. The school becomes your life again as a parent, and your kid performing
a song or a play during a school assembly warms your heart. <o:p></o:p></span>Loundjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455510333569587790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644273311865211320.post-18720812809600502272015-10-06T08:23:00.001-07:002015-10-06T08:46:37.306-07:00How green is your grass?<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We are told that the grass is greener where we are not. Just
like the color of the sea which gets bluer the further away you move from the
shores, the grass seems greener the further away you drift from your home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Undeterred by Dahmane Elharrachi’s song and the tales of those older than us who tell
us that leaving one’s home is not for
the faint-hearted, we embark on a journey of discovery and adventure, leaving everything familiar behind. We follow our
dreams, which we later realize they are not even ours. We taste the different flavors
of each land and we keep moving in search of that perfect place to finally
realize that it only exists in our hearts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Some wise people exercise discipline and convince themselves
that whatever they have is perfect and that the only way to be content is to
accept what is there, deal with it and improve it. This is the case of those
Algerians who enjoy their life back home. The case is also true for citizens of
other countries who never complain about the bad weather, the high taxes or the
dirty and polluted cities. They will just live in their little town or big city
never yearning to know what if feels like to be somewhere else. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I came across people on my various trips who are just like
me, they have lived in various countries, and are always willing to move, this
gives me reassurance. But, I have also met people who stayed in one place all their
lives, and worked at the same company for as long as they have been employed; life
abroad does not tempt them in the slightest. These people have travelled but
they have always come home. I feel jealous of them sometimes. They have found
satisfaction, and are confident that the land where they are offers just as
much as anywhere else. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Along my trips, I met so many people each with their own
story of leaving their land. For some, it is the search of freedom. A roommate
of mine in college told me once that she could never imagine herself wearing a
bikini in England (on a hot day), but she would gladly do it in Egypt because
there she feels free(er). Many other expats also re-iterate the same feeling of
being free, away from the eyes of those
who have come to know them very well; as if ones’ homeland becomes a confinement
and freedom is only to be found away, anywhere but at home. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For those of us who come from conservative societies, we
think that our society is suffocating because of customs, and religion; we flee
to get away but even those from the free world seem to be fleeing. Some flee taxes, others flee the
cold weather, for others it is just the experience to put in a CV to get
promoted and earn more money. For a few, it is the love of adventure.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Beacuse you have lived in multiple lands, people think that you are
an authority on the best places to live; I personally think that there is no perfect
land but that which exists in your heart and that the grass is as green as your
eyes make you see it. If one’s heart is content and happy, it will always be
happy no matter where it lives, and if you are miserable grumpy soul, you’ll
always find faults with every country that you have called home. I belong to
the latter category I am afraid.</span><br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
Loundjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455510333569587790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644273311865211320.post-23537936709662002822015-07-09T00:54:00.001-07:002015-07-09T00:54:48.539-07:00Ramdhan Z'man<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As someone living
in nostalgia, I keep trying to convince myself that many things used to be better
before. One of them is Ramadhan. As a kid, I used to get so excited about this
month and await its arrival with great anticipation; for me, it meant eating
more sweets, and being able to play outside when it is dark. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One of the
things I miss dearly these days is the smell of Ramadhan and the aura that accompanied
this month. You could not escape it, </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">it was
in the air everywhere; it was not just the smell of coriander in shorba
emanating from every house in the neighborhood, not the smell of Z’labia being
deep fried or dipped in syrup, not that of Qalbellouz sold in stalls in many
places, and not that of orange flower water in the Sherbet. It was all of that
and a lot more. Even if you were too young to fast, or were at school where you
would not whiff any of the above delightful smells, you could still feel the
presence of the month.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I grow
wiser, I feel that aura less and less and start to believe that it was maybe
one of those childish feelings I had, which rendered my world a lot more exciting.
Sometimes, I wish I could reconstruct the atmosphere in my head for it is a
great one. I travel to Algeria in Ramadhan sometimes hoping to experience that
feel again but it is not there anymore. All you experience is the heat and the
dead streets. I think that people have just given up on trying to make this
month exciting.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">People
complain a lot about this month, I do, sometimes, as well. We find the fast
difficult, and I find the cooking difficult. We are expected to fast, pray, be
spiritual, and cook decent food without tasting it. If there is an invitee, we
pray that the salt is just right.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In all of
the extra tasks we create during this month, we distract ourselves from the
true essence of this month, and as Ramadhan nears its end, we feel a sort of
regret for having complained about its arrival, for not welcoming it warmly
enough, for not having done enough good deeds and wonder what our lives will be like next Ramadhan, and whether the aura will visit us again. </span></div>
Loundjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455510333569587790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644273311865211320.post-87319760875955800972014-05-25T03:55:00.000-07:002015-07-09T06:36:07.643-07:00Mrs La Blanche<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mr Le
Blanc, according to Gad Elmaleh, is this guy whom the universe conspires to make
his life as smooth as silk. When he eats all the components in his sandwich
enter into a pact and decide to do their best to make it to his mouth without
soiling his nice clean clothes. Eating a sandwich for him is a pleasure, no mayo, no sauce
leaves that sandwich until it reaches the desired destination. At the airport,
his luggage is the first to arrive on the belt, intact and spotless; and the list
of fortunate events in his life is endless. At the other end of the spectrum
there is Mr. Swad essa3d, whom Murphy’s law shapes his life and everything he
does goes awry.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For every
Mr. Le Blanc, there is of course Mrs La Blanche. You spot her at the local
coffee shop drinking a skinny latte, looking like a million dollars. She has
three kids, not one, not two but three! Yet she manages to have a figure of a
single woman in her teens. She has three kids and she manages to have hair
that looks like she has just stepped out of a salon. No dark circles under the
eyes; so her kids must have slept through the night from day zero. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mrs La
Blanche’s kids sit quietly when she eating out with hubby, playing with their toys; eating all their veggies and any crap that Mrs La Blanche
offers. She of course manages to stay as fresh looking as when she stepped out
of her house. Her kids do not seem to grab her hair or clothes. The kids smile or
laugh all the time, you wonder if they were born in Stepfod town. You look at what
she is having and you want to ask the waiter to get you exactly the same stuffs
maybe some of that luck would rub on you.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She drives
a Range Rover to drop her kids at school or at nursery. She wears a different outfit
everyday, which looks like it has just arrived from the drycleaners. Her kids
put a kiss on her cheek and say bye and run to their classroom looking like
they are going to a playground. At nursery, she leaves her baby who has such a
big smile on his face, you wonder if he on something. Everyday you see Mrs La
Blanche, you hate her more; you try to convince yourself that she has at least
two maids and three nannies for she sets the standards so high you wonder if
she is human.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You, on the
other hand, never sleep through the night, because your baby does not; so
looking fresh is out of the question. Your barely have time to comb your hair
because your baby is screaming for something that is not among the 1000 things
in front of her. You decide to wear hat nice outfit to outdo Mrs La Blanche
just that once but on the way to the car, the baby decides to puke all over you
and you run back to the house and grab that dress that does not need ironing but
which makes look like Jo Brand. You decide to wear it anyway because you are so
late for everything. You run around the house like crazy checking and
rechecking that you have got the million things that you baby does not need at
nursery, but which you decide to pack anyway because you want to make your life
more stressful.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At nursery,
your baby screams and screams when you leave her that you decide to either be
the first or last to arrive at the nursery so that you can make it out quietly and
avoid the accusing eyes of those mums looking at
you like it is your fault that your baby does not want to leave your side. There
is nothing worse than judging eyes of other mums who want to tell you how to
bring up your child.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When you
have had enough and you want to eat out with hubby, you pray and pray that your
baby does not make a scene; she of course does not let you eat and you end up
taking turns with your husband on eating and drinking. She barely eats her food, and ends
up being grumpy as she can see all the people around her eating and she cannot
do the same. Your baby decides all of a sudden that bedtime that night is when
the dessert arrives. You ask the waiter to pack it for you and make your way
back home. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As a mum, you want to
be Mrs La Blanche everyday, you tire yourself like mad to get there; but then you realize
that she is 10 years younger than you, she started having kids when you were
busy climbing the career ladder. She married a loaded Mr. right, and after all
her kids go to school, she can start her career and will become a CEO by the
time she is 45. You give up trying...<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Loundjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455510333569587790noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644273311865211320.post-61523799768656322622014-02-04T02:40:00.002-08:002015-07-09T06:36:20.484-07:00Married! Keep away from me!<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Marriage
and men are a recurring theme in some excellent blogs run by single Algerian
females. Patriots on Fire also has some posts dealing with the problem of
marriage in Algeria, and in a post published last year, there was a mention that Algerian women only
care about getting married and Turkish soaps. As extreme as it may sound, there
is actually some truth in this. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">When I was
in my early twenties, I used to get regular calls from a friend of mine, informing
me of all the marriages amongst the small Algerian community in England. Some
of the names I knew, but in most part they were people I did not know and could
not care less if they got married, stayed single or did anything else. That
friend of mine used to share the news to get things off her chest, for the news
were too great a sorrow for her to bear alone. I remember once she contacted me
to break the hot off the press news that one of our friends had a baby boy,
with a lot of melancholy in her voice. As if the universe was conspiring
somehow to give the baby boy to her friend and consequently deprive her of it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Some years
passed, and it was my time to witness things through the married woman’s eyes. As
I am a discreet person, I did not send a group e-mail to everyone in my inbox
who are spread across the globe telling them that I had got married. So, many
of my acquaintances learnt about it from others, or years later. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was
recently travelling and decided to inform an old colleague of mine whom I had
not seen for 8 years, of my being in her city. I sent her an e-mail, and I got
a reply straight away asking me of how I was and giving me her mobile number
suggesting that we meet for coffee. In the second e-mail I sent her, I said
that I was with my husband in town that it would be nice to see her. I had not
heard from her ever since. The meeting for coffee was cancelled and my calls
were unanswered.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The second
funny event was at Harrods, and more precisely in the ladies bathroom. I was speaking
to my sister and a woman was looking closely at us making it clear that she
understood every single word; she was Algerian. She informs her daughter who
comes straight to us and introduces herself, after names, the next question
was: “are you married?” When the answer was positive, she did not look happy
and decided to disappear with her mum. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Another
recent event was a meeting with another single friend of mine after years of
absence. She made it clear that she was not happy to see me and was quite aggressive
towards me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">These are
all reactions of girls who have not even met my husband or asked about his
profession or his looks. It is true that
some married women in Algeria think that they are somehow superior to their
single counterparts. But these women are certainly sad creatures. Also, I find it strange that many single women always try to find faults with people’s marriages
or husbands/wives. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">My mother
finds these reactions unjustified and silly as well. She always reminds us that
most people end up getting married and that when she was young, it was not a
big deal to be married, and no one felt jealous or bitter as it was the norm.
Just like having kids; she, who has had so many, never understood why women these days show off
being pregnant and ostracize those who cannot have kids. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Loundjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455510333569587790noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644273311865211320.post-44415571571617452322014-02-03T00:49:00.005-08:002014-02-03T00:56:22.313-08:00Black or White<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">When
strolling around Algerian cities in recent year, a new phenomenon becomes apparent
to the observer, the ever increasing presence of the colour black among women. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The little
black dress has always been described as a must have in any wardrobe. So are
black jeans or black tops, as these have the tendency to give the allusion that
one is thinner than one actually is. As someone who has never suffered from excess
weight, I never felt the need to acquire black clothes except for the odd thing
or two; so I am not mad about this colour.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">But the
black thing that is parading in our streets is not the little black dress, but
the abaya or the milaya as some would like to call it. After several years of
the disappearance of the white <i>hayek </i>that women used to drape themselves in, and
years of adopting the fashion that comes from the other side of the Mediterranean,
our girls have found a new way to express themselves i.e. copy those from the
Gulf countries. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Women after
the independence started to conquer the work place and realized that the <i>hayek</i>
was not practical, so they decided to opt for more practical clothes, those
that allow the woman to move freely, catch public transport, and run sometimes to do
that. This, in addition to the feeling
that the <i>hayek</i> was a sign of backwardness, something the French encouraged by promoting the burning of the <i>hayek </i>in the fifties, contributed to its gradual disappearance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">When
visiting Morocco, I noticed that women there were still wearing their traditional <i>jellabah</i>, young
and old women alike. In fact, hardly any women were wearing the black <i>abaya</i>. The
black <i>abaya</i> which made its way to the front of fashion in Algeria is a lot less prevalent in our neighbouring
Morocco. </span>I don’t know about Tunisia now, but last time I was there in 2007, there was no sign of it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What I like
to question here, is not the <i>hijab</i> itself but the fascination of Algerians
by what comes from abroad. Since it was possible for the Moroccan <i>kaftan</i> to be adapted by top end designers around the world, and has become a must have item, why can't we have our own attire and develop it into something practical and fashionable? Isn’t
the <i>kablye</i> dress worthy of developing into a modern fashion item? why not make the <i>karakoo algerois </i>a practical everyday clothing item? Have we no
imagination or will do nothing but just import everything? </div>
Loundjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455510333569587790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644273311865211320.post-18265053921095961882014-02-01T03:22:00.001-08:002014-02-03T00:05:16.753-08:00Back in lifeAs I have disappeared from the blogging scene for nearly a year, I thought I would write a word or two to explain the reason behind the absence to the one or two readers who visit this page.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Well, I have been on maternity leave. I know that writing a post should not be compared to working full-time, but when you are sleep-deprived for what seems like an eternity, putting two words together in your mother tongue is sometime a challenge let alone trying to write something meaningful in another language. </div>
<div>
<br />
I have got some drafts from before, which I will publish in the next few days. That is until I can get my brain to think about things other than baby naps, sleep and food. </div>
Loundjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455510333569587790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644273311865211320.post-48466940552175518672014-02-01T03:00:00.001-08:002014-02-03T01:13:32.254-08:00The Open Door<div class="MsoNormal">
A friend of
mine has lent me an interesting collection of short stories written by kids
whose ages range from 8 to 18. The stories selected were winners of a writing
contest on the theme “The Open Door”. These kids come from different cultural
backgrounds; I read all the stories and was impressed by the quality of the writings,
and the imagination that these kids have, and the effort that they put into
their work.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Some of the
stories were written in Arabic and others were written in English. One of the
intriguing things that I noticed after finishing the book was the difference
between tackling the subject between Arab kids and Western kids. Most of the
Arab kids, writing either in Arabic or English thought of the open door as a
metaphorical expression, and built their stories around hope, which the open
door signifies. On the other hand, the Western kids always thought of the actual
door as an object and their stories evolved around walking through open doors,
or trying to open closed ones. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">What makes
things even more interesting is the theory that Malek bennabi proposed in his
book <i>Le </i></span><i>Problème</i><i><span lang="EN-US"> des </span></i><i>Idées</i><i> </i><i>dans</i><i><span lang="EN-US"> le Monde Musulman</span></i><span lang="EN-US">. He states that the European man
has always looked towards the ground or his feet using what is beneath to make
things, whereas the Eastern or precisely the Middle Eastern man has always looked
towards the sky in search for answers to his existence and being. He also believed
that the obsession of the European with material things (objects) made this
continent incapable of producing a prophet or a religion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">In this
book he cites the examples of Daniel de Foe’s <i>Robinson Crusoe</i> and Ibn
Tufail’s <i>Hay ibn Yakdhan</i>. The Castaway </span>Robinson Crusoe tries to occupy himself by writing a diary, making a
table, and other things, whereas Ibn Tufail’s protagonist who finds himself
alone in a forest searches for a meaning to life and he finally comes to
realise the existence of a creator. <span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Although it is an
interesting comparison to make, and it lends supports my observation above. I
believe that Malek Bennabi has missed
crucial differences between the two stories. Danield De Foe and Ibn Tufail lived
in completely different times, separated by hundreds of years of civilization,
which at the time of the writing of Robinson Crusoe was moving towards industrialization,
i.e. the making of things which must have influenced the line of thinking of Daniel
de Foe. Robinson Crusoe was an adult when he was cast away on the island. He
had already seen the world and experienced life, so he was trying to make a
life that resembles the one that he left behind. However, Ibn Yakdhan was
raised alone in a forest, away from human influence and civilization.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Having said that, it
has been some time since I read the book; and I may be missing some other
points which led Malek bennabi to deduce the crucial difference between the
Eastern and Western man. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Going back to the Open Door, I would have thought that the age of globalization would produce kids that were not so different.Loundjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455510333569587790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644273311865211320.post-32562243820051790712013-03-14T05:11:00.001-07:002015-07-09T06:38:30.592-07:00The land of Timgad…The home of the mud<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">In an article published in <a href="http://www.worldfinance.com/home/final-bell/urbanisation-20-the-mother-of-all-building-booms">World Finance</a> on urbanization 2.0, Dan Lewis, a </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Director of the Economic Research Council, states that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Today’s municipal planners dream wistfully of Timgad, a perfectly symmetrical, self-contained grid-laid Roman town in Algeria built in 100 AD. Instead they have given us the likes of Milton Keynes in the UK. </i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The statement above shows his dissatisfaction with modern town planning which has given the world cities without a soul. However, if this author were to visit Algeria, he would lament the state of our town and cities (and thank god for Milton Keynes), he would realize that Timgad, which appears to be an inspiration for town planners around the world, has not enthused our architects to produce anything remotely as decent. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">If he were to drive on the East-West highway, he would find himself alternating between beautiful dreams and nightmares. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">One moment he could imagine himself in the best of countries, beautiful landscape as far as the eye can see unraveling herself to the observer, inviting to be seen and enjoyed. Another moment eyesores erected by men, never thinking about creating harmony between nature and buildings, resulting in an esthetic unevenness that would detract him from looking out of the car’s window and push him to look away. He would also notice the inexistence of spaces and structures that lift the spirit. He would certainly question the shocking designs by our architects and their inability to know where a building is not suited.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">If he were to take walks around our cities, he would see how some rare decent buildings metamorphosed into ugly ones thanks to the jealous man who thinks that by turning a balcony into a window or even a block of concrete, he would be protecting the honor of his family, by hiding his wife, sisters or daughters from the preying eyes of other men. And </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">if he were to venture outside his hotel room on a rainy day, he would bring heaps of mud back. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">If he were to read comments on Algerian newspapers and blogs, he would find people objecting to the creation of beautiful buildings, he would come across articles criticizing any attempts to build decent roads and bridges. He would find people asking for a freeze on projects until a democratic system is established. If he were to talk to people about cleanliness, he would find everyone espousing the idea that cleanliness of homes and streets should be a priority, but he would realize soon after that everyone brilliantly destroys it. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">If he were to visit Timgad, he would find a ghost town, revived only for concerts to hypnotize the people. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<br /></div>
Loundjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455510333569587790noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644273311865211320.post-57454955644639405692013-03-13T09:09:00.001-07:002013-03-13T09:12:04.563-07:00Stop the bashing!<br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Today, I
decided to pick up on a a posting by an Algerian blogger on Algerian women. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">On Patriots
on Fire, a post entitled “Algerian women serve no purpose” was recently published,
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>which amongst other things states that
some interviewed Algerian men think that Algerian women serve no purpose and
that their interest is centered<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>around
marriage and Turkish soaps. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shockingly,
the comments to the post seem to endorse the statement in the title. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I cannot
deny that marriage and men are a recurring theme in some very popular blogs run
by single Algerian females. Searching for a husband seems to be a favourite
preoccupation of young women in Algeria. There is the famous slogan that girls
at Algerian universities use which is </span><i><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">diplôme</span></i><i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">
plus un </span></i><i><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">homme</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">, which makes finding a man a
priority for a young woman just as much as getting the degree. Indeed, some
girls just want to go to university to be able to find a partner as the milieu
offers more choice than one would find in the small community from which one
hails. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Nevertheless,
the interviewees or the blogger seem to suggest that there is a norm and that
Algerian women by focusing on finding a husband or a partner seem to be
shifting from the norm. But the need to find a male partner or a mating partner
to be more biologically precise does not only occupy the Algerian female’s
mind. Bridget Jones’s Diary and Sex and the City are very good examples of the
pressure put on women in Western societies to be hitched once they reach a
certain age and also to produce descendants. So, it is a bit unfair and
shortsighted to imply that this phenomenon is purely Algerian or even Arab by
reaching conclusions based on this fact.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">On a recent
assignment in a town not far from London, in a company dominated by women, I was
surprised to find out that babies and children were the preferred discussion topic
during lunch breaks, and that everyone made sure to mention the achievements,
the concerts, the pantomimes, the sports days that their children were
attending. These women were not without a purpose, 80% of them had PhD’s from
top universities in the UK and in Europe. The question: ”Do you have children?”
was asked by everyone I met, and someone went even further as to ask me: “Do
you not want to have children?”. I decided to make a joke about it. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, it is
really only natural to try and find a life partner to fulfill a biological need
and to pass one’s genes on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If people
who are looking for a partner are thought to serve no purpose, then most of young
people on this planet are useless. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Loundjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455510333569587790noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644273311865211320.post-30529786758184512602013-01-30T05:44:00.000-08:002013-01-30T05:46:34.380-08:00Memoirs of Little Aicha: Summer Camp in France<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgX3pLbVuwO2txxFmJSXXqe7Ku3AI6HTR4bQWcXPybMGXYSPtXHhfEyScQjtc2pOCS5nNDGTIoiBQvwyw3-yZ7lgcuAsKe2iOf7j_ay6tybk1BPwHiPFXDiLoeqVPngkZZz4dLqSXGo7g/s1600/girlCampFire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgX3pLbVuwO2txxFmJSXXqe7Ku3AI6HTR4bQWcXPybMGXYSPtXHhfEyScQjtc2pOCS5nNDGTIoiBQvwyw3-yZ7lgcuAsKe2iOf7j_ay6tybk1BPwHiPFXDiLoeqVPngkZZz4dLqSXGo7g/s320/girlCampFire.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">After
experiencing the camp life in Algeria, the free-spirited little moi decided to
cruise the Mediterranean, and witness at first-hand how the poor French kids
spent their summers</span>.</div>
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<span lang="EN-US">One happy
summer day, quite some time agoooo, I was informed that I would have the fortune
to be amongst some kids selected by the state to go and spend a few weeks at a
summer camp in France. It is not exactly how they put it. We were just informed
that we would be going to France on holiday, and who says France says shopping.
The first picture that came to my little mind was the Eiffel tower, and then
the Eiffel tower, and then lots and lots of shops. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">My
preparation for this trip was quite different from my Algerian summer camp
days. I was going to France yew! I had to have nice clothes because no one
would steal them, and then I had to give a good image of my country (beh mayadahkouch
3lia les F</span>rançais). So, my three sisters who were at Uni then, chipped in using
their summer grant money (bourse) to buy me clothes. We decided to go to
Algiers. Shops in my hometown did not cater for young teenage girls who failed
to grow up fast; you had to be either a child or a woman, you had to choose. If
you went to a shop and tried something on and asked for a smaller size, the
answer would always be a big NO!!!!! It was my fault after all, I was thin and
should have defied my genes and grew fatter quicker. My mum always used to
remind me: “<i>I told you, you should have stayed in that volleyball team, you
would have put on some muscle and grown taller!</i>”. She was right of course,
most of my friends who stayed in the team, undeterred by the psychopath coach
that we had, were a few inches taller, and bigger than me.</div>
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<span lang="EN-US">My sister
knew la Rue Disley very well and that’s where we headed for the shopping. My
previous shopping trip that year was to Bab Ezzouar in Ramdhan to buy clothes
for Eid. There was a big market there where they sold clothes that fit young
teenage girls. It was my first time in that Rue Disley, and it was a real step
up from souk Bab Ezzouar. After paying an arm and a leg for the clothes, I felt
sad that I had used up my sisters’ grants for the clothes; and I promised
myself that I would return the favour one day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Departure
day was in August, it was hot in Algiers. The port was full of <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>immigrés</i></span></span> coming
or going back, and over a hundred kids queuing up, all excited to be on this
adventure of a life time! The ship was grand; it made me think of Titanic.
It was the first time I had seen anything like it: a floating palace!</div>
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<span lang="EN-US">A day at
sea, and lots and lots of laughs and happy moments later, the ship finally
arrived in Marseilles.
After the formalities, the counting, lunching and a bit of sightseeing, we were divided into groups of 8, and each group was sent
somewhere. That somewhere remained a mystery up until we reached the train
station. We were overwhelmed by how different everything seemed, some of us had
never been on a train before, so there was some excitement there. A train, then a bus journey later, we arrived at our destination, which was in the middle of
nowhere...There was no Eiffel tower to be seen, no shops, and hardly any people
walking around. It was raining and dark, and I could feel each one of us
dreading what was to come. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Sleep came
hard to me that night. I wanted to cry, but realized that it was silly of me to
do that. I was in France, the land from where all that </span><i><span style="background: white; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">publicité</span></i><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span></span><i><span lang="EN-US">de chocolat, de Chambourcy</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> came from. It could not be that
bad…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Things got
better. After a few days, we realized that there were not many rules, no lines
to walk in, no anthem to sing, no 3-4hr siesta. Well, there was a routine but
we did not have to follow it religiously! The continuous sunshine of August, and the beautiful surrounding landscape made it easier for us to adapt. There were about 40 kids in the camp, 8
Algerians (4 boys and 4 girls), and a dozen adults (20 somethings) looking
after them; One director, an avid photographer, who did not bring his family. I
don’t think he had one; he had a red sports car!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The Camp
had three buildings which looked like old chateaux, but were well-renovated
inside, there were 4 of us in each room. The rooms were painted in a happy
colour, I think it was pink for us girls. There was a nurse but no doctor. The
gardens, full of fruit trees, were so big and as there was no fence, we could
not tell where they ended. We also had huge sequoias, which were towering over us. Activities
ranged from swimming and horse-riding, hiking and mountain biking to caving and
kayaking. The siesta was less than an hour and it could be taken either indoors
or outdoors. When it rained, there was a game room facility to use with table
tennis and table football. Some afternoons were spent drawing wall frescoes. In
the evenings, we had murder mystery games, board games, Pictionary, story
nights, or quiz nights; there were two parties one to say hello and the other
one to say goodbye. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Our sheets
and clothes were washed regularly, and I was very surprised to find my clothes washed,
ironed, and left on my bed, come sunshine or rain. I had to ask how they could
do it when it rained. And it was then that I discovered the amazing mysterious </span><i>sèche-linge</i><span lang="EN-US">.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">During my
time in the camp, I forgot about the Eiffel tower about the shops, and about
the cities that I was expecting to visit. A couple of days before our
departure, we were taken to the nearest city, ate McDonald, and did a bit of shopping.
Time not permitting, I could hardly buy anything, and thought of all those requests
I got before my departure and that handsome sum of Francs that was to be
returned almost untouched. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">When the
three weeks came to an end, we had to say our goodbyes. We were told that we Algerians had made life a lot more enjoyable for the kids. I enjoyed my
time in the camp mostly because there were people from my country to make it
fun, to make jokes about everything, and to make life a bit less serious in the
Camp. It was great to be there but I don’t think I would have been happy without
them.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Judging by
the red eyes of some of the kids who stayed up until midnight to say goodbye,
the red eyes of some of the people who were looking after us, I understood that
friendships could be knit between different people of different cultures and
languages, within a short time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />Loundjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455510333569587790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644273311865211320.post-70714050027760149032013-01-29T02:32:00.002-08:002015-07-09T06:32:28.069-07:00Memoirs of Little Aicha: Summer Camp in Algeria<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiud0RZ1oR16VY9sekEJcMJPC7Hsl9oO3AfL641R8aRfFp7aA43OsP1s6J5KH3IGSkcKHOHqig8pDtpqKCBNXkvAC6wy9AMf-dkqrFxpdwZjrTdt713H5GrZpQR_VB1mOoXn1vCJXyJ_KU/s1600/choir.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiud0RZ1oR16VY9sekEJcMJPC7Hsl9oO3AfL641R8aRfFp7aA43OsP1s6J5KH3IGSkcKHOHqig8pDtpqKCBNXkvAC6wy9AMf-dkqrFxpdwZjrTdt713H5GrZpQR_VB1mOoXn1vCJXyJ_KU/s1600/choir.jpg" /></a></div>
Going to children
Summer Camp or <i>Colonie de Vacances</i>
was a rite of passage for Algerian children, a way to taste freedom, and
explore new places, away from the overprotective eyes of parents.<br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Like many children, I
was <strike>un</strike>lucky enough to be posted to one of these. At the age of 7, my dad
decided it was time for me to follow the family tradition and be let free to go
to the <strike>amazing place</strike> that is camp. Of course, the previous years I had always
envied my sisters who used to come back looking very dark, I mean very tanned, and
who would tell endless stories about their time there and how great it was. </div>
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<br /></div>
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So
in preparation for the big day, my dad would take me to his company’s doctor
who used to run multiple tests to make sure it was safe enough for the camp to let me in! Four times, four different camps, one story…</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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The big day is here, my sister and I would be up early enough to
beat the sunrise, my mum would have prepared our luggage, which would consist of ancient
bags containing our worst clothing, so that it would not get stolen. My mum
always made sure however that a tooth brush was included, for in summer camp
you had to have a toothbrush. My dad would accompany me and my sister who was
two years my senior and was a feisty fighter, so no worries about getting bullied,
I who had always looked younger because of my small stature, was an easy prey
for kids at school and I expected it would be the same in summer camp which had
at least 300 kids (i.e.my child mind estimation). <o:p></o:p></div>
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When it was my first
time, I could not be happier; but, when dad dropped us at the bus station
and I saw all the other kids, I could feel my heart pounding off my chest, fear
took over, and the excitement disappeared.
Kids I did not know; they did not look friendly, and they were all older and
bigger than me was a sight that made me tremble, there was no going back though; dad had already paid the fees. When it was time to leave, dad
would kiss us on the cheeks and wish us a happy holiday and then go to work. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The coach rented by my
dad’s company was always old; it had a horrible smell like old motor vehicles
did in those days. You would be lucky to find a new taxi or a bus in Algeria in
the eighties. We used to be round 30 (always a child’s estimate), accompanied by a few adults whom we would later call<i> moniteur
</i>for male and <i>monitrice</i> for
female. The journey was never dull; as soon as the bus starts moving, singing
would start and the <i>moniteur </i>who would
have a derbouka would make the atmosphere very jovial. Two or three hours
later, we would reach our destination (a coastal town in Algeria).
This is the condition for any summer camp; it had to be in a coastal town, and a
few hundred meters away from the beach. <o:p></o:p></div>
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My first day in the
camp was full of confusion, all these people from different corners of the
country, speaking dialects that sounded foreign to me. Some of them looked very
different to us, they were black; it was the first time I met someone
Algerian who looked so different to us, I later learnt that they were from <i>Tougourt </i>a town in the south East of the country. After
having lunch, it was time to divide us into groups of 11 just like a football squad;
sometimes it was 12, if there were left-overs. The aim was to put people from different towns
in one group, a way of getting people to know one other. Girls were put in
separate groups to boys, which was great relief because as a child, I never
liked boys just like any female. By the
end of the distribution! I realized that would be sharing a tent with another
21 girls, we were two groups per tent. The tents were big enough for 24 beds,
including those of the <i>monitrices</i>. Being
with twenty one girls whom I had never met in my life was enough to bring tears pouring down ; I
started to cry and demanded that my sister would be in the same tent as me. One
<i>moniteur</i> could not stand it, and he decided
to go hunting for my sister, tent by tent,
in that rather big camp. The search had nearly ended when we headed back to
my tent and we realized that there was a tent about 50 cm away from mine, my
sister was there and they decided to put her in the same tent as me.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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The beds were older
than time itself, made of metal boards. The mattresses had stains everywhere,
and smelled horrible, but the sheets were thankfully clean. The routine starts
the second day and it was the day all the kids suddenly realize that mum and
dad are not there and it is custom that we all decide to cry our eyes out and
then be comforted by either seniors who enjoyed being there or <i>moniteurs </i>who did make life enjoyable
and were all comedians. <o:p></o:p></div>
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7 o’clock, we all wake up and make our beds, then we would walk in a line, one behind the other…Everyday, down we
marched in a line like ants, to the restaurant, led by the <strike>shortest</strike> youngest girl
in the group. Before entering the restaurant it was custom to salute the flag
and sing, not just the national anthem but all sorts of nationalist songs and
other meaningless songs. If there was one thing we learnt in camps it was
singing, and sing we did. After the choiring, we finally head to the restaurant
which was made of concrete flooring and sugar canes for walls and roofing, it
was very nice, especially in comparison to the rest of the camp. Breakfast was
always a bowl of milk with chocolate. It was supposed to be hot chocolate, but was
rarely hot, occasionally warm, and mostly tepid; and piece of bread, which is
quarter of a baguette cut in the middle and butter and jam for a filling. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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By the time breakfast
is finished, it is around 8:00; we head back to our tents, change into our
swimwear and wear flip-flops and head to the beach, in a line but this time
walking in twos. The beach was usually a few minutes’ walk away from the camp,
we would pass by restaurants and see some tourists mostly French Algerians. Once
at the beach, we also sing all sorts of songs, one of which mocks socialism; (Algeria was ruled by a socialist party, and was very influenced by Russian and
Chinese thinkers-the country was on the brink of collapse but little did we
know at the time). There was also a song about the agricultural revolution of Houari
Boumediene. After all the singing we are finally left to go and swim. Security
was very tight and we were never allowed
to go beyond a line which was a few meters into the sea. This meant that
we never swam but just splashed water. We spent at least three to four hours,
until lunch time. Come mid-day we would be led back to the camp where we are
washed and then dressed and readied for lunch. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Outside the
restaurant, we sing, and sing until lunch is finally served. The food varied
but it was mostly soups and sea food. I had never eaten fish, except for sardines, before going to summer camp. I did not even know the names of the
fish we were served there. Fish for most Algerians who do not live in coastal
towns means sardines. It was the only fish that we saw or ate in my town which
was a two-hour drive away from the sea, it is now one hour after the construction
of the highway, but fish is still scarce. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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When lunch finished, it
was time for siesta, a very long punishment, from 2 pm to 4 or 5 pm. We were not
allowed to chat, laugh or play, we had to sleep and if we did not, there was
another form of punishment. Once we decided to defy the system and our
punishment was the cleaning the whole camp. It was harsh. Add to that the
naming and shaming by the director of the camp who would always bring his
family to camp and put his kids in a separate tent. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Following the siesta,
it would be time to go to the forest. Funnily enough, there was always some
sort of woody area near the camp. The best was in Jijel. During our time there,
it is singing again in preparation for the evening galas. I don’t know if it was
part of national strategy in the eighties, but there was so much of it. By the amount
of that tebrah we did in camps, I am quite surprised we do not have a Pavarotti,
or a Charlotte church. Well, it is not like the singing we did was to train us
to be proper singers; it was to fill the rather long hours of summer… <o:p></o:p></div>
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Two weeks, sometimes
three was the length of our stay in the camp.
They seemed like a life time for me. I missed my parents, my hometown
and my street; I missed the freedom of playing outside. During this time, we would get one or two visits by our
parents. Only those who lived nearby had their parents come to visit them. Luckily
I was one of them. I had a lot of pride when my dad used to come and visit me
and my sister. My sister never cared much, I, on the other hand, felt that a
visit from dad meant that I was important, by what logic? I don’t know. When my
name would be called out, to go and see dad, I would stand up and take a long walk
of pride, sometimes I would get applauded! My dad never missed an opportunity
to show us that he loved us as kids. His visits meant a lot to me. I would talk
about them for the few days that followed and would show off the stuffs he bought
me which were chocolates or biscuits. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Two weeks later, a few
shades darker, a bag of dirty clothes heavier and a ton of memories richer; it is time to head back home. The mother would
be waiting with a bar of soap ready to disinfect us at arrival. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Loundjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455510333569587790noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644273311865211320.post-22554963862347179132012-11-12T03:48:00.000-08:002012-11-12T03:51:18.174-08:00It is so third world but I love it<br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I know the wedding season in Algeria is over or nearing a
closure, but it is never late nor out of context to talk about weddings in
Algeria. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In recent years, there has been a tendency to formalize
Algerian weddings. This is most cases means having the celebration in a wedding
hall, decorated tackily with Chinese plastic flowers and tinsel. For those who
are real show offs, it is real flowers, but it is rare because there are never
enough flowers in the shops to decorate one wedding hall let alone a few. I remember as a kid, there used to be more florists
selling real flowers, but their numbers have declined dramatically like
everything beautiful in Algeria. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As I am an old-school at heart, I am all for wedding celebrations
at home. I have recently watched a video of Mourad Djaafri playing at a wedding
for men. The celebration took place in the open air, more precisely in the
space between apartment blocks (the formal name of which I ignore). I am glad
he did not feel that he needed a hall for his performance, for having men dance
happily in the street at night, where no alcohol or blasting DJ music are
needed, simply cheerful people sitting on plastic chairs is what a
celebration should be about. It reminds me of a wedding about 20 years ago,
before Algeria was plunged into years of darkness. Our neighbour held his
wedding in the street; it was a quiet street where hardly any cars passed by,
and everyone one was dancing and happy for him to be married, nothing formal,
just happy people enjoying themselves.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> I am glad this tradition has not
completely died out in favour of a wedding hall where people sit around tables,
staring at each other, and the host is so bitter about spending a fortune to
rent the hall that the food ends up being a few biscuits and you are meant to
fast for a day just for the pleasure to be in a wedding hall.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Loundjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455510333569587790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644273311865211320.post-50138952457859760822012-10-07T04:43:00.002-07:002012-10-07T04:46:35.049-07:00Chadli est mort <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">For those of you familiar with Fellag’s comedy, he said in one of his stand-up acts that in Algeria, we would have to interpret documentaries to find out about what is happening in the political scene. He gave the imaginary example of when Boumediene died; they showed a wild-life documentary on TV in which an elephant was left to die by the rest of the herd. And as Algerians are clever, they figured out that it was a message telling them that their then president Boumediene “est mort”. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Lucky for us, it is not as bad as that with previous presidents*, we learnt about the death of one Algeria’s presidents </span><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chadli_Bendjedid"><span style="color: purple;">Chadli Bendjedid</span></a></span><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> in the numerous newspapers that have been in circulation since the reforms he introduced following the uprising of October 1988. Prior to these reforms, Algeria was under one party rule where all newspapers and media outlets were the echo of the voice of that party. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">As I read about the news of his passing away, I felt sad. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am sad that one of our rulers died and we did not get to learn much from him. I know that he wrote his memoirs, but I believe that he exercised auto-censorship in writing them. They will be published soon, but the truth about our pouvoir* will still remain a mystery to most of us.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">Bendjedid is </span><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">the only president whom I stood for hours waiting to see, when I was 4 or 5. He visited my small town, and luckily for us, his procession was only meters away from my childhood home. I was excited all day, made sure I got a flag, and waited in a line to get a glimpse of him, for hours. He was whisked away in a black convertible, and kids were running trying to follow his car. He is also the only president in Algeria’s history to have so many jokes made about him, about the fact he was not the cleverest of presidents, especially in comparison to the likes of Mitterrand or Regan.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">As Muslims, we are meant to recount the deceased’s good deeds and good character. He has his mistakes like all humans, and more so because he was a military man, then a politician. What will he be remembered by? Each one of us will remember him by something, but he will be mostly associated with the 1988 uprising and the reforms that followed. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I believe that he was a tolerant president, having allowed so many exiled politicians to return to Algeria, and particularly the two heroes of the Algerian revolution: the late Ben Bella, and Ait Ahmed. Chadli came to power before I was born, and during his rule, I enjoyed the happiest days of my life as a child. I guess that is what I will remember his era by. I will try to forget anything post 1990, for now. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">*<em>Algeria has one of the most opaque governance systems in the world. Communications with the people or the rest of the world about Algerian matters is very obscure. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></em></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>*Le pouvoir is the ruling clan in Algeria<o:p></o:p></em></span></span></div>
Loundjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455510333569587790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644273311865211320.post-91952269125866357722012-09-12T01:29:00.002-07:002012-09-12T01:32:00.238-07:00The Final Countdown<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A few months ago, The FT published a series of articles on a
new source of energy which will take the Western world by storm. It is shale
gas: an unconventional source of energy, a gas that is extracted using sophisticated
technology called fracking. The US has made immense progress and is set for the
first time to become a gas exporter rather than an importer. Energy
independence has been a title of American strategy on energy; Barack Obama
spoke on several occasions about weaning the US off Middle Eastern oil, and it
looks like he has kept up his promise. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Given that the price of this gas is cheaper than natural
gas, the success made by the US drew the attention of several other countries.
The Chinese are keeping a close eye on the matter and they have funded some of
the projects and are hoping to get the US technology to start projects at home.
The Poles are following suit with their own attempts at extracting this gas;
and the Brits are investing in several projects in the US.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Articles like these should set alarm bells ringing in oil producing
countries and especially Algeria. Algeria is in a double whammy because it
depends on oil and gas for its existence, and the US is our number one trading
partner. We export the equivalent of 24billion USD of crude oil and gas to the
US. What adds salt to the wound is that even if our rulers know anything about
this, which I doubt they do, they do not have any tricks up their sleeves to
come up with strategies to deal with the consequences of losing a significant customer
like the US. They made us believe that we did not have to worry about this
problem for another 50 years or so. It looks like they were wrong, and the time
to do something about it was yesterday not tomorrow.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Many Algerians believe that
our rulers have planned well for their escape to Europe, by stashing Swiss bank
accounts with stolen money in preparation of the dreaded day, when oil and gas run
out. Let’s hope they will do that sooner, when they realize that the US and the
West do not need their oil anymore. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">P.S: some environmentalists are against the extraction of
shale gas in the US due to the dangers of polluting drinking water. Maybe they will slow the process down and give our rulers some time to re- build
a few roads… </span></div>
<br />Loundjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455510333569587790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644273311865211320.post-52934265513342232412012-07-21T21:50:00.000-07:002012-11-08T04:09:46.415-08:00The neighbours<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As summer is in the air, people start thinking about holiday
destinations. As usual, when searching the net for holiday packages, the
Algerian is faced with very limited if any choices in his own country, so
he or she starts looking elsewhere. This elsewhere has traditionally been our
neighbour to the east. It used to be both neighbours; but I believe that the
traffic to the western borders is very limited both by air and by land. Some holidaymakers
are even eyeing destinations like Turkey, which seems to be offering some good
packages even for the Algerian in the middle-class category. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This year, I did not have the chance to make a choice about
my summer-holiday destination (which most of the time is Algeria), as my
husband is very busy I decided to accompany him on a business trip to
Casablanca and try and make a holiday out of my time there.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After much anticipation, we landed at Mohammed V airport, a
dated airport. I was surprised to see very few tourists mostly people from the
Gulf countries, which made me think that Casablanca was probably not a very touristy
destination. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As my husband’s company was footing the bill, we decided to
stay in a decent hotel in town, a luxury hotel in the centre of the new quarter
of the city. It is certainly not the best hotel I have been to, and I would go
as far as saying that it needs better management. There are no spaces for
non-smokers, and breakfast and the internet are not included in the extortionate
price they charge.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My first impression of the city was a negative one, as we
entered the city from the old quarter which is run down, and neglected; I felt
that Casablanca was overrated. However, after a couple of days and a few
strolls around the city, I changed my mind. The new modern quarter of the city
is very nice, and had it not been for the crazy driving (Indian style), I would
have thought I was in a southern European city. The street cafes give the city
a Parisian feel, and add a certain je ne sais quoi to the atmosphere. The food
served at cafes and restaurants is very nice albeit being dearly priced in some
places. The cafes are full at most times of the day which makes me think that
they are frequented by tourists (mostly Moroccans though). The service at
restaurants and cafes ranges from I could not care less a l’Algerienne to very
good Asian-style hospitality. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As an avid culture tourist, I was looking forward to
visiting the old Medina, which is in the old quarter of the city. Except for
the wall that surrounds it, which looks old, it does not offer much in terms of
architecture, culture or style. It is just a few street shops selling knick-knacks
and a few souvenirs. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As I read about the city, I realized that it was
conceived in 1912, hence the absence of old monuments. The Hassan II mosque was
worth the visit. The mosque looks out onto the ocean, and its architecture is
magnificent. However, it is in much need of maintenance as the carpets are old
and a bit smelly; and the ablution area should have been outside the main
mosque. The entrance is free but the staffs need training on how to run it. Very
few people speak English and unlike the Zeitouna in Tunis, there is hardly any
information about the mosque. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A few days in Casablanca and one feels that one has seen enough of the city, so I decided I wanted to discover the rest of the country. After much begging, I succeeded to convince my husband to drive us to Marrakesh. Finding a car to hire for a day
was an impossible task, and after a long search we found someone willing to
rent us a car for one day. However, the price was extortionate, but we felt
that Marrakesh would be worth it.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After a three-hour drive in the scorching heat
without AC, we arrived in Marrakesh. The city was a disappointment mostly because
of my expectations. I was imagining a <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 115%;">Ghardaïa</span>
but with a well-developed tourist infrastructure. I have heard so much about it
in the media, which raised my
expectation a lot. The city is basically
a desert town with lots and lots of compound villas, apartments, and resorts. All the buildings are
painted in a brick-like earthy colour, which is the only thing positive I can
say about this place.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was looking forward to discovering the Medina. We went to
Jemma El-fnaa, which is an old mosque with hardly any information about it, and
very old watchmen who open the mosque's doors to only a few people at a time. It was
just a few of us, mostly Moroccan tourists. Not far from the mosque there is
the shrine of Youssef Ibn Tachfine, which is not well maintained.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">All in all Marrakesh was a disappointment as the old Medina
was just a few old houses. This side of the city is not welcoming and is very
poor. Loads of mechanics decided to open shops there and the shops selling
souvenirs are not nice like the ones in Tunisia. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Unlike Marrakesh, Casablanca has nice streets and the
new quarter can rival some places in Europe. What Casablanca offers is a very
pleasant weather. It is rare to find a city with such a mild summer in the
south Mediterranean. If one is looking for a destination to escape the summer
heat and have nice food then Casablanca won’t disappoint especially with the
green spaces that they have here. Some suburban areas are beautiful and the
investments that rich people have made here are apparent. Palaces and huge
gardens add a lot to the beauty of this city. </span><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When I started writing this post, which I must admit reads like a travel review, my intention was to
say that branding is key when it comes to tourism. Morocco has done a brilliant
job at selling itself to the world, and people are flocking in. I know many
Europeans who love this country for its the culture and heritage. However, as an Algerian,
I feel that Algeria has a lot more to offer in terms of diversity as a cultural
destination. <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 115%;">Ghardaïa</span>, Timgad, and Djemila are museums in
the open air. Tlemcen is an excellent place to develop. As someone who has been
to many Algerian cities in recent years, I see enormous potential but very
little will, on the part of the people, and most sadly very little tourism
culture.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Loundjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455510333569587790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644273311865211320.post-41183301147985091842012-05-22T07:11:00.002-07:002013-01-29T23:13:43.258-08:00Demystifying Islam, Can TV help?<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While surfing the
net recently, I came across some articles about TV programs on Islam and
Muslims in the West. I found two of these TV shows particularly interesting, especially
against the backdrop of the current political situation, where Muslims are considered guilty
until proven innocent; as these shows aim to demystify Islam and its followers. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One of these is <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/All_American_Muslim">All-American Muslim</a>, which is a reality TV show, following the lives of five families
living in Dearborn, Michigan; and the other one is Little Mosque on the Prairie, a six series sitcom set in the small fictional town of Mercy in Canada.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I decided to watch
a few episodes of each show, and I thoroughly enjoyed them. All-American Muslim
focuses on Arab Muslim families within a large community of Muslims, the
largest in the US. I think that Americans value family life, and the support
and stability that it brings, probably more than Europeans do, due to Americans’
strong Christian roots. So, following the lives of families rather than
individuals was done purposefully to engage viewers who might otherwise ignore
such programs entirely. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Despite its benign
nature, the show was surrounded with controversy. Lobbying groups put pressure
on a company which was going to sponsor it, because they believed that the show
was an Islamist propaganda meant to whitewash Islam, which, in their opinion,
is an imperialist/violent religion. I find it quite sad that some Americans
praise their country for its democratic values and freedom of speech, and at the
same time try to prevent shows like these from airing. <span lang="FR"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The sitcom <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_Mosque_on_the_Prairie">Little Mosque on the Prairie</a> satirizes the lives of a group of Muslims, living in the
fictional prairie town of Mercy, in Canada. I watched the first few episodes,
and found it quite funny although not hilarious. It tackles issues within the Muslim
community in the West, which could also arise in families and communities in
the Arab/Muslim world. I think that
comedy is a great tool for opening up debate and breaking stereotypes. The
director of the show is Muslim and although I have not watched the show in its
entirety, I believe that it is set to educate rather than to offend, shock, or
create controversy. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I hope that these shows
will help dissipate the negativity associated with Muslims/Islam at least among
those who watch them. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
I know that some Muslim
readers think that we are always trying to defend ourselves against accusations,
and we are trying hard to prove to the Western world that we are not
terrorists, which we should not have to do. To them I say, i<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 115%;">n the words of
the scholar <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hamza_Yusuf">Hamza Yusuf</a>, who quotes Foucault, it is the powerful that define
things and set norms, and right now, the
Western world has an immense amount of sovereignty in the world, so it has
framed a discourse and we Muslims have to define ourselves within the model that
the Western world has set up.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have been
reading comments posted recently on both British and American newspapers websites
regarding Muslims, and what I read shocked me. These papers are usually read by well-informed
Americans and Brits. It is quite sad to come across so much hatred and insults
of a religion and over a billion people who follow it. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know that sometimes
no matter what you do, some people will never open their eyes to see. <span lang="FR">Voltaire says:
« Il n’est pire aveugle que celui qui ne veut pas voir ». </span>However, I believe
that it is our duty to defend our religion in all ways we can and prevent it
from being hijacked by some extremist nihilists who do not value life. These TV shows are a step in the right direction. I hope many more will follow. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Loundjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455510333569587790noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644273311865211320.post-16564808332760484112012-04-16T05:43:00.002-07:002012-05-22T07:30:16.926-07:00He had acted alone<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">"He had acted alone". This is what we always hear when a white Western man commits a crime such as the one committed by the American soldier who went on a shooting rampage leaving 16 Afghan children and women dead (he set some of the bodies on fire), or when the Norwegian <span lang="EN-GB">Anders Behring Breivik killed 77 innocent people, white Norwegians like himself, or when some white teenager shoots some other kids in some state in the US. The latter have become quite commonplace in the US, but we never hear anyone talk of influence or some secret circles behind these white men committing such atrocities. Most of the time, they are referred to a psychiatrist to assess their mental health and in most cases they are pronounced unstable, out of touch with reality or crazy. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Why are these people always acting alone? Is it because these white men from civilised countries are clever enough to commit crimes without being instructed to do so. Or is it because they are programmed to kill just like Terminator but there is no programmer, they are born with the genes that lead them to commit crimes. So, it is innate in them and it is not the influence of the surrounding environment in these white-majority civilised nations that turns one into a mass murderer. But if that were true, why are they proclaimed unstable, or crazy. Is it because white men cannot do such a barbaric thing unless there is something wrong with them. There must be a lot wrong with Bush and Blair who led the ‘coalition of the willing’ to kill masses of Iraqi civilians. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So these white civilized crazy murderers could not have been under the influence of anything such as the media which keeps demonising their to-be-victims and turning them into deserve-to-die people, they are definitely not influenced by politicians’ speeches who blame every problem in white nations on immigration from inferior less civilized nations. How could they? </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now, when a non-white man whose 5<sup>th</sup> or 10<sup>th</sup> great grandfather hails from a non-civilized Muslim country, commits a crime, the story is very different. This average Mo who has never seen a mosque in his life and does not know what Islam is, suddenly turns into a devout Muslim who ain’t acting alone. He is instructed to commit a crime by some obscure group headquartered in some exotic Afghan place. Names like Kabul and Kandahar spring to the surface. The media digs deep to find out where his 10<sup>th</sup> great grandfather comes from. If he isn’t white then they have to find out his origins. That’s how journalism works, don’t you know? So, after we find out where his roots lie, he is referred to as Mo a European or American of [Muslim country origin]. All newspaper have to do that, they couldn’t leave the right-wing papers enjoy the exclusivity of mentioning the origins of a mass murderer [or a shop-lifter]. Left-wing and right wing papers differ on many issues, but in this department, they shake hands and leave all their differences aside. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am no sociologist nor an anthropologist, but I would like to know the relationship between skin-colour and religion on the one hand and acting alone when it comes to crime on the other. Why do people whose origins are non-white never act alone when committing a crime? but white men always act alone. Do people of Muslim origins show more solidarity even when it comes to a murder. After all Islam emphasizes the importance of solidarity. Could it be that people of non-white non-Christian origin are not clever enough or brave enough to act alone. Or could it be that these people are so human, so kind, so angel-like that they cannot commit a crime without being under the influence of an evil group based in Afghanistan. The latter explanation has not been circulated in the media, I wonder why?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>Loundjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455510333569587790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644273311865211320.post-30578426069622176952012-04-10T01:34:00.001-07:002012-04-10T01:44:19.509-07:00Israel and the Wall of Silence<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Three unconnected events deserve our attention as they reveal yet again the absurdity of the Israeli defense mechanisms and their isolation from reality. These are about a poem, a Big Brother contender, and a song. </span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Last week, the German poet and winner of the 1999 Nobel Prize in literature, </span><span class="st1"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Guenter Grass,</span></span></span><span class="st1"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"> </span></span><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">was declared a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">persona non grata</i> in Israel after composing a poem in which he criticized the world for its silence over the Israeli nuclear program and alluded to the double-standards of the –powerful-Western world <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">vis a vis</i> the Israeli and Iranan nuclear programs. The western world which seems to only see through the beer goggles of Israel and thus concentrate on Iran. This<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Iran has always been months away from acquiring a nuclear bomb, this was the case three or four, wait even five years ago. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Israeli propaganda machine is in full swing now, digging deep in the past of the German poet and his nation and other Western nations to resurrect the Holocaust and the anti-Semitic tape that we have become all too familiar with. It is sickening how this spoiled brat of a nation has built a bulwark around itself made of lies, threats, and victimization. It has silenced the world over its illegitimate policies and practices. By being silent, the majority <span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">has become an accomplice in the spread of injustice in this world. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The poem:</span></span><br />
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>But why have I kept silent till now?</em><br /><em>Because I thought my own origins,</em><br /><em>Tarnished by a stain that can never be removed,</em><br /><em>meant I could not expect Israel, a land</em><br /><em>to which I am, and always will be, attached,</em><br /><em>to accept this open declaration of the truth.</em><br /><em>Why only now, grown old,</em><br /><em>and with what ink remains, do I say:</em><br /><em>Israel's atomic power endangers</em><br /><em>an already fragile world peace?</em><br /><em>Because what must be said</em><br /><em>may be too late tomorrow;</em><br /><em>and because – burdened enough as Germans –</em><br /><em>we may be providing material for a crime</em><br /><em>that is foreseeable, so that our complicity</em><br /><em>wil not be expunged by any</em><br /><em>of the usual excuses.</em><br /><em>And granted: I've broken my silence</em><br /><em>because I'm sick of the West's hypocrisy;</em><br /><em>and I hope too that many may be freed</em><br /><em>from their silence, may demand</em><br /><em>that those responsible for the open danger we face renounce the use of force,</em><br /><em>may insist that the governments of</em><br /><em>both Iran and Israel allow an international authority</em><br /><em>free and open inspection of</em><br /><em>the nuclear potential and capability of both.</em></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The other event <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>is about the Israeli <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>version of Big Brother “HaAh Hagadol’ and how, much to the dislike of the majority of Israelis, one contender , Saar Szekley, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>voiced his opinion on live TV about the injustice of Israeli IDF action in Palestinian territories and its illicit occupation of Palestinian land. He was attacked by fellow roommates in the Big Brother House, and was the subject of denigration. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was threatened with gruesome acts of assaults and facebook pages have been dedicated to the matter; he was ostracized. Poor him, he thought he was in democratic nation, the beacon of the Middle East.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The last but not least is about an Arab girl, </span><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Nissren Kader</span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">,</span><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> who by being a sycophant to Israel, thought she may be accepted by fellow Israelis. She took part in a Pop Idol-like contest singing in Hebrew and praising Israel and claiming that she was proud to be Israeli. Like all traitors in history, she was rewarded with countless complaints by REAL Israelis to the channel that DARED accept an Arab girl to sing on Israeli TV and hurt the sensitive ears of Jewish citizens. </span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></div>Loundjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455510333569587790noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644273311865211320.post-30147664991564778592012-03-20T02:35:00.000-07:002012-03-23T04:31:20.550-07:0050 years down, when is the UP?<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yesterday marked the 50<sup>th</sup> anniversary of the signing of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%89vian_Accords">Evian Accords</a> to end the eight-year war of Independence that the Algerians started in November 1954 to oust the French after over 100 years of French colonial occupation of Algeria. The Evian accords paved the way for a referendum on Algeria’s independence, which was held in July 1962 and in which the Algerian people were asked to vote on whether Algeria should become an independent state cooperating with France. </span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">A bilateral ceasefire was declared to stop the bloodshed; however, a terrorist organization named </span><a href="http://www.armenianweekly.com/2012/01/28/womens-rights-activists-demand-dismissal-of-syunik-governor/"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Calibri;">OAS</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> , which was created with the aim to prevent Algeria’s independence, waged blind terrorist attacks between March and July of 1962 against civilian Algerians and even against French citizens on French territory and in Algeria. Although the independence became inevitable some time before the Evian treaty, this organization felt a lot of bitterness and decided to adopt the </span><span style="color: purple; font-family: Calibri;">scorched earth approach</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> to destroy the existing infrastructure. Also, OAS was hoping that the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Liberation_Front_(Algeria)">FLN</a> would retaliate and break the ceasefire. </span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">This occasion has been marked by media coverage and exhibitions in France; the French public national <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>TV channel </span><a href="http://programmes.france2.fr/guerre-algerie-la-dechirure/index.php?page=article&numsite=8699&id_article=30842&id_rubrique=8702"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Calibri;">France 2</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> decided to air a two-hour documentary, which was a first in the history of this channel, and the history of France. For a long time France decided to put the </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Algerian_War"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Calibri;">Algerian war of independence</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> or “la guerre d’Alg<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">é</span>rie” in the drawers of amnesia and classify it as taboo. For a long time, the French authorities and history books decided to call this war les <b>événements d'Algérie</b> (incidents <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>of Algeria) a mere keeping of public order in Algeria. Sending 400,000 soldiers and losing 30,000 of them <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in battlefield, and the killing of hundreds of thousands of Algerian civilians, in the opinion of the French, does not qualify for war. This reflects France’s uneasy relationship with its colonial past, which showed a dark, and violent side of this ’civilized’ nation, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the land of the French revolution which was a battle to achieve equality and remove oppression. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only this equality was reserved for those who were of European descent and Christian faith. </span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">This documentary presented the French view of the conflict, which is quite different from the way it has been portrayed in Algerian media. I must admit that the documentary showed an even-handed picture of the conflict. It was well prepared and well researched. It has opened my eyes for the first time <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to the impact this war has had on French politics (the collapse of the Fourth Republic) and on </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Metropolitan_France"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Calibri;">Metropolitan France</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">, which was the scene of many armed attacks. One of these is an attempt to kill President DeGaulle and the overthrow of the French government on a couple of occasions,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>by the OAS.</span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">However, as if in an attempt to counter the balanced view of the documentary the channel decided to hold a debate and invited: an Algerian who was a member of the </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Liberation_Front_(Algeria)"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Calibri;">FLN,</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> the revolutionary body that led the <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>war, he was<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> also </span>an ex-MP and minister in 1970s and 1980s; a priest, who was a soldier posted to Algeria <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>during the war, three </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pied-Noir"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Calibri;">pieds- noirs</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">, one of whom is </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Benjamin_Stora"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Calibri;">Benjamin Stora</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> a leading authority on Algerian history from 1830 to 1962 (the period during which Algeria was under French rule and was part of French territory); and a woman who was the daughter of a </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harki"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Calibri;">harki</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">. Harkis are Algerian traitors who decided to side with the French during the war and who were later abandoned by the French to meet their fate at the hands of angry Algerians in act of revenge. Of course, inviting one Algerian who was denied the freedom of speech on multiple occasions and was attacked by the others who felt that the story should concentrate on the violence of the Algerian side and ignore the violence the French committed for 130 years of rule says a lot. One of the pieds- noirs decided to justify the violence of this war, by the fact that Algeria had been violent by nature during thousands of years, and that it had been a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terra_nullius"><span style="color: purple;">terra nullius</span></a></u></i> without rule of the law...</span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Anyway, after watching the debate, the admiration I had for the French for coming clean about their past vanished. I thought to myself how naïve of me to expect this nation and its citizens to discuss their colonial past openly on TV without trying to repeatedly interrupt a citizen of the old colony and prevent him from airing his opinion. I also felt sorry for the man, he was alone trying to justify why Algerians wanted to be independent from a nation which left the country impoverished on all levels, and left a country with 98% rate of illiteracy, and a population living in shanty towns. The French want Algerians to apologize for having started a war to say to the French no we cannot continue to live like animals, whilst the minority Europeans are exploiting the resources to enrich themselves and France. </span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Having said that, Despite all the flaws of this nation and its evasiveness about its past history <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">vis a vis</i> Algeria, It had the guts to talk about it openly in the documentary. Nevertheless, I am still skeptical given that this is an election year and </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nicolas_Sarkozy"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Calibri;">Sarko</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> wants to lure immigrants of Algerian descent and the French leftists by showing his non-racist side; he is after all opening dossiers that remained top secret for a long time.</span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">On the other side of the Mediterranean, however, our rulers have decided that this event is not worthy of any attention and took a very low-key approach to the event. They probably were instructed by their superiors in France to leave it to them to show history as they see fit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Or, be it an election year, t<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">hey are afraid that a celebration may remind young<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Algerians of their revolutionary past, induce the expression of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a dormant revolutionary gene in the population, or ignite a spark , which would lead to an uprising of the population<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>i.e. an Algerian spring. </span></span></span></span><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our rulers maintain power through revolutionary legitimacy. This means that they are the sole authority fit to run the country because they fought for its independence over 50 years ago. So we will have to wait until they die to hold democratic elections and open the door for the new generation to have a say in the way their country is run. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">It is ironic how our rulers keep reminding the new generation of thier heroic past and their 'zealous' patriotism, and at the same time receive their orders from France regarding many issues. The French are considered top tier in our rulers’ eyes. They are the ones who benefit from investment contracts. It does not matter that there are other countries willing to enter this market and do better than the French, who still regard us as a dominion country. It is also sad to hear claims of patriotism in French, this language that our rulers decided to make the only foreign language worthy of study and use. Algeria remains one of the few countries in the world where movies, which are a mean of learning the English language for some, are dubbed in French. Also it is the sole country where rulers use foreign and French media to address their citizens and prefer to do so in the French language, the language of the 'elite' -or so they believe.</span></div>Loundjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455510333569587790noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644273311865211320.post-42176591902968355952012-02-28T04:49:00.001-08:002012-03-06T23:35:31.111-08:00Western Sahara: What's in it for us?<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It is not my intention to present all the details of the conflict, but since it is one of the main reasons halting the unification of the countries of the Maghreb, I believe that it deserves some attention.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I came to learn about this conflict when I was a child, camping in one of the coastal towns of Algeria. I was surprised to see a group of children, who did not speak our language, benefit from luxuries we would have never dreamed of in the camp. Driven by curiosity I decided to visit their dormitory to watch a cartoon on TV (it was a luxury to have a TV in a camp in the eighties). The kids and some adults who accompanied them explained to us that they were from Western Sahara, a colonized country, and they used to talk of torture and war. I was very surprised to learn that the enemy was no other than Morocco. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The conflict has its origins in the seventies (some Moroccans claim that it goes back a long way), when the Spanish decided to hand over the power to the Polisario. Both Morocco and Mauritania seemed to have historical claims over the country. The same argument used by the 19th century colonizers of "terra nullius" or un-owned land was used by Morocco and Mauritania to annex the country to their territories. Major incidents in this dispute include the march of 350,000 Moroccans into Western Sahara, and the armed conflict between Polisario and the Moroccan army, which started in 1975 and ended in 1991.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A UN mission, which was sent to Western Sahara, announced that the Sahrawi people were in favor of independence. However, this has not materialized. The Houston agreement suggested holding a referendum on independence, or unification with Morocco. It still puzzles me that to this day, no referendum was held, but useless negotiations are held sporadically from time to time which lead to no tangible results. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After Mauritania dropped its claims over the country, the parties in conflict remain Morocco and Western Sahara. However, Algeria has pledged it full support for the Sahrawi people to gain their independence. It remains a mystery to many, including myself, as to what Algeria will gain from the conflict. The following are possible reasons, reiterated by the Algerian government, and views of people in forums:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">1. Algeria, a country that suffered from 132 years of colonization, which left the country impoverished economically, culturally, and socially, rejects all forms of occupation and supports the right of people to decide their own destiny. Following its independence in 1962, Algeria supported various countries to gain their independence. Therefore this claim is in line with the Algerian policy, which it adopted in 1962 and still stands today.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">2. The Moroccans (both rulers and people) believe that Algeria's support for the Sahrawi cause is a demonstration of bitterness felt by the Algerian generals "who were bitterly defeated in the war of sands". The war of sands was between Algeria and Morocco over the borders. The Moroccans waged an attack on Algeria in 1963, a few months after the country gained its independence, claiming that Tindouf<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and Bechar were Moroccan territory and that France annexed it to the then French Algeria. It is believed that the Algerian president Ben Bella used his famous “hagrouna” which means we are being bullied to<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>describe the action of the Moroccans. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">3. Another claim circulated by the Moroccans and adopted by some Algerians in the street is that Algeria wants fishing concessions and access to the Atlantic Ocean. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A program on Aljazeera was dedicated to the issue. This program featured an academic from a university in Mauritania, who seemed quite Knowledgeable on the subject, But he was careful enough not to present any facts that would offend any side in the conflict. Interestingly, he claims that in the seventies (cannot quire remember the date precisely) Boumediene was about to drop his support for the Polisario and accept the division of the western Sahara between the two countries (Morocco and Mauritania), however, something happened that no one seems to know, which made him change his mind radically and drop his original agreement to the solution proposed then.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I find it interesting how the average Moroccan in the street views the conflict and how the Moroccan people fully support their government's decision to annex the country. Even the so called "intellectuals" often criticize the Algerian government for supporting the Polisario. One cannot deny that Algeria has fully supported the Polisario in this conflict; but at the same time, Morocco is not short of tricks either. By using the media in the West and the support they get from the US and France, Morocco seems to have held the upper hand in the conflict so far. In addition, they have waged a media war on Algeria, with the latter not failing to respond but in its usual cold manner. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Regardless of the gains or losses that will be incurred by the Algerian government, following a solution to this problem, I fully support the idea of a fair referendum; the Sahrawi people have the right to decide their own destiny. If they decide to be annexed to Morocco, then let it be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This conflict has been dragged on unnecessarily far longer than it should have been. It is high time a solution is found that will satisfy the parties concerned.<span style="color: red;"> </span></span></div>
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</div>Loundjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455510333569587790noreply@blogger.com0