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About Ramblings of a Hopeless Khowaga

Welcome to my Web site. My name is Chris, and I’ll be your host. I\'m an opinionated, snarky, gay academic with a predilection for the history, the Arab world, languages, photography, food, and music. I live in Austin, Texas. You can read more about me, learn 100 random things about me, and if you’re wondering what the heck a khowaga is, click here. Feel free to browse, read, and leave comments!

Tag: ‘languages’



Random Round-up

Wednesday, October 18th, 2006

I’ve been feeling uninspired to write anything recently. I could write about politics, but everyone writes about politics. I could write about Kim Jong-Il, but he’s crazy (sorry, he’s a non-rational actor) and everyone’s talking about North Korea (and not enough people are talking about how we can’t take North Korea on because we’re overextended elsewhere … oops, did I say that?).

I’m not giving Mark Foley another thought. There comes a point in your life when claiming that you were abused by a priest in no way makes up for discussing penis size with one of your 16 year old pages. (Check it out over at Towleroad if you haven’t seen the unedited version of that little bit of correspondence…) He’s now a disgrace to gays and people who were molested as children.
What’s a blogger to do when faced with being a Writer’s Blockhead?

Time for another random round-up. (For the record, I don’t know anyone who uses the term ’round-up’. This is Texas, but I grew up in Ohio, and I’m doing it for the alliteration.)

What the hell is up with the Argentine death cult?

If you’ve seen Evita (and don’t deny it — even I’ve seen Evita, and I’m not that big a fan of Madonna) you’re probably aware that the Argentines sure do love their Peróns. In fact, they’re moving Juan Perón to a big new $1.1 million crypt away from the center of Buenos Aires where he can rest in peace … until the next time they decide to dig him up and move him around. Juan Perón died in 1974. Just so we’re all clear on this. Loyal Perónists want to move his beloved wife (Eva, not Isabel, and certainly not his first wife whose name no one seems to know) to be out there with him. Evita’s family seems to think she’s been through enough already (what with her body having been moved to Italy under an assumed name for a few decades), and would like her to stay where she is, in the family crypt.

I suppose that the title that I just gave this section might be a little misleading — the Argentines don’t have a death cult so much as a slightly bizarre (to the outside observer) obsession with two dead people. Someone was so obsessed with Juan’s corpse that they broke into his crypt in the late 1980s and stole his hands. WTF? We have some pretty revered folks in our history, too, and as far as I am aware, George Washington, Abe Lincoln, and Ben Franklin still have their hands. What on earth would possess someone to decide that their life wouldn’t be complete unless they owned Juan Perón’s hands? I mean: ewwww.

All I’m saying here is: let the poor couple rest in peace. Haven’t they been moved about enough? Or do we need to do it one more time, just for old time’s sake?

On Tony Blair and the Veil

British Prime Minister Tony Blair has an opinion on Muslim women’s fashion. This may surprise many of you, as it did me, given that I was previously unaware of Blair’s academic background either in Women’s and Gender Studies or in Islamic Studies, but since he has issued an opinion, I guess I must be wrong. After all, no political leader would stand up and make an assertation that they weren’t qualified to make, would they?
At the heart of Blair’s newly revealed talents is a national debate raging in Britain about the Muslim population and the alienation and ostracization that’s been taking place since the July 11, 2005 bombings (which, as you will recall, were carried out by members of the British Muslim community). There’s a lot of talk about the need to integrate and assimilate the Muslim community into the greater population and society (resistance is futile), which can be a good thing, so long as Britain (and other western nations) realize that this is a two-way street–the host populations are often just as unwilling to assimilate the newcomers as the newcomers are to be assimilated.

However, as is usual with debates like this that become highly politicized, the national dialogue appears to have run off the road and into a tree. At the center of this particular tangent is the niqab, the full face veil with the slit for the eyes that ultra-conservative women wear in the Middle East and some other Islamic countries. A couple of weeks ago, Jack Straw, ex-Foreign Minister and now leader of the House of Commons, said that Muslim women visiting his office need to remove their veils. A teaching assistant in northern England has been suspended for refusing to remove her veil while she works because it ‘impedes her ability to perform her job.’ I’ve seen women in grocery stores in Saudi Arabia juggle three children and a useless husband all while wearing a niqab, but I suppose that’s different.

Check this out:

And any woman who prays or proclaims God’s message in public worship with nothing on her head disgraces her husband; there is no difference between her and a woman whose head has been shaved. If the woman does not cover her heard, she might as well cut her hair. And since it is a shameful thing for a woman to shave her head or cut her hair, she should cover her head.

That’s not from the Qur’an, by the way. (I have the source here in invisi-text: 1 Corinthians 11:5)

I get the idea behind a veil being some sort of symbol of respect for a higher power. I also happen to find the niqab a little creepy, and I’m all for fewer women wearing them as a general rule of thumb. (Of course, I also happen to be gay and am not treating the women in question like a sex object, which is the whole raison d’etre for the thing in the first place.)

The following quote from Dr. Blair is what gets me:

People want to know that the Muslim community in particular but actually all minority communities have got the balance right between integration and multiculturalism … when people do integrate more, they achieve more as well. There is a reason why minority communities that have integrated well then end up doing better, achieving more, attaining more.

The question here is this: how does a government ‘encourage’ integration without doing something like legislating which languages we speak at home? Or passing a national dress code? Or — wait for it — regulating public and private behaviors?  If we start down this road, where does it end?  And does anyone else see how this could easily become an issue for other communities than British Muslims?
As Chandler Bing once said: Can–open.  Worms–everwhere.

I raise the question because there are no easy answers.  I don’t have the answer.  I recognize there’s an issue that needs resolving, and I am happy to stand here and say: this is a tough one. I don’t know what the answer is.
And you, my friends, would do well to mistrust any politician who tries to tell you otherwise.

Friday News Round-up

Friday, September 8th, 2006

Well, it’s Friday and things around the world are certainly in an interesting state.

Naturally, what my eye has focused on is the premiere of the Muammar Ghaddafi opera in London. The enigmatic-yet-charismatic leader of Libya is the subject of an experimental opera that hit the stage on Thursday night to mixed reviews.  Ghaddafi: A Living Myth seems to have alienated traditional opera-goers because, as the Daily Telegraph laments: “Singing was conspicuous by its absence.”  This is hardly a surprise.  Muammar isn’t a singer himself, and would probably have insisted on playing himself in his own musical.  Muammar is an author of several short stories, a couple of novels (all of them are big sellers in Libya – surprise!), a philosophical treatise called The Green Book which may have been translated into more languages than the Bible, and an entire system of government that he calls Jamahiriyya – ‘government of the masses.’  We can discuss whether Libya is truly governed by the masses later.

On a more positive note, today’s Times suggests that Ghaddafi: A Living Myth might well be the next Evita.  That’s not such a stretch, given that its subject is probably just as inappropriate for mass-market consumption.  After all, prior to Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical, who had ever heard of the Argentine first lady – other than the Argentines themselves?  Perhaps what this means is that in a few decades a middle aged Jake Gyllenhal or Heath Ledger will take to the silver screen in a lavish film adaptation of Ghaddafi: A Living Myth with some remote corner of Saudi Arabia standing in for Tripoli, the way that Budapest filled in for Buenos Aires in Alan Parker’s film adaptation of Evita.  Madonna will have to sit this one out, though, as Mrs. Ghaddafi has never had the cult of personality of either her husband or Eva Perón.

What I’m wondering, though, is who will be next to hit the light rock-opera stage.  Ceaucescu?  The Shah of Iran?   Hirohito?  The Crocodile Hunter?  Somehow, a singing-dancing Gandhi (Mahatma, not Indira) seems like a bad idea, but it’s probably already been done.  I’ll bet there’s a musical in Imelda Marcos’ shoe closet.  Hell, we could probably stage the musical in Imelda Marcos’ shoe closet.

I guess art truly is in the eye of the beholder after all …

Sur les langues

Monday, August 21st, 2006

I have come to a decision in my life recently the outcome of which could dramatically alter the future of the universe as we know it.

I’ve decided to learn French.

Why, you ask, have I come to this monumental decision? Well, it looks quite likely like I’m going to be spending time in Morocco next summer, and Moroccan Arabic scares the bejeezus out of me, so French seems like the next logical choice. In Middle Eastern Studies, French makes much more sense than, say, Spanish as a second language. After World War I, the region was split between French dominance and English dominance, and I’ve just been really lucky that so far I’ve managed to stick to the English speaking parts. Well, no more of that.

I’ve always hated being in a situation where I can’t understand what’s going on around me. I hate to miss out on things that are going on, for one, and also the control freak part of me hates not being able to offer input (or even have the option).

It remains to be seen whether this French thing will work out. It’s a Romance language, so compared with, say, every other language I’ve learned it has to be somewhat more familiar, right? I did learn Spanish once, and the grammar wasn’t that strange for a speaker of English.

Not compared with, say, Turkish which is so militantly rigid in its grammar that you have to plan out sentences six years in advance (Example: “Did you call your friends in Istanbul?” is Istanbuldaki arkadaşlarina telefon gittin mi? – literally “Istanbul-(located in)-(referringto) friend-(plural)-your-(receiving action) telephone call you-made interrogative?”) I can imagine that trying to speak Turkish while suffering from a migraine might possibly be one of the worst feelings ever.

Then, of course, is the question of whether I want to try to learn to read French or just speak it (writing is, presumably, out of the question for now since it’s hard to grade yourself on that). I’ve done both – I can speak Greek passably, but I can’t read it, and I can read Swedish but I neither speak it nor understand it when it’s spoken (too many dipthongs with weird pronunciation: how “sj” comes out “h” is beyond me). I’m also getting lazy with Arabic and need to work on keeping up my reading skills.

Which brings up the question: why aren’t I just planning to speak Arabic in Morocco? Good question.

Arabic is a tricky being. As a student of the language, you’re taught something called fusha (that’s foos-ha), or modern standard Arabic, which is a very intricate language with lots of grammatical rules, lots of regular verbs, even more irregular verbs, and seems to make some sense — even if I have never successfully been able to identify certain grammatical structures. In all my years of visiting the Middle East, I have never been pulled aside by a policemen and threatened with jail if I didn’t identify 10 examples of a jumla wasfiyya in the following article in the next five minutes, and somehow don’t seriously expect that such a thing will ever happen. These are the sorts of things that get you through the next exam and then anyone with good sense forgets about them as soon as is humanly possible.

Then we fly to the Middle East for our first year of study abroad and realize what every student of fusha eventually finds out: no one actually speaks fusha. People speak dialects of Arabic – educated people can speak fusha, but not as their ‘first language.’ So, after having gone through all of that, you have to learn a dialect. Naturally, studying in Egypt, I picked up (but never really studied) Egyptian Arabic.

Most people that teach the language remain militant that students must learn fusha. Some Universities are now offering the ‘major’ dialects (Texas now offers Egyptian and Levantine), but only to advanced students.

Moroccan Arabic, however, remains the sort of bastard child that no one deals with. Like Cypriot Greek, Moroccan Arabic has retained a lot of vocabulary from the medieval era that isn’t used in the rest of the Arab world anymore. It also has incorporated quite a bit of the Berber languages. For those of us who prefer the eastern dialects of Arabic, Moroccan is a frightening language. Those consonant clusters are initimdating: while vowels aren’t written in Arabic (as is the case with most Semetic languages: Hebrew and Amharic are the same way), it also seems that Moroccans don’t pronounce vowels, either. Oh, they’re there, of course (somewhere) but it’s a whole new way of looking at the language.

Since Morocco is decidedly Francophone (many of the major newspapers, for example, publish daily in Arabic and French), it seems like learning French might be cheating a bit – but I’m not sure that I have enough of a committment to Morocco to want to start on a new dialect.

Frankly, I just got good with the one that I already have.

 

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