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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 live in Austin, Texas, with my partner, Ray, and our child dog, Mocha. 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: ‘murder’



Rest and Relaxation

Thursday, August 20th, 2009

My wanderings around the state have come to an end, and not a moment too soon.  I do enjoy the traveling, but there comes a point when you’re in yet another hotel chain that looks like any other hotel chain (LaQuinta?  Fairfield Inn?  Hampton Inn?  Is there a difference?) when you realize that you simply can’t face one more morning with Faux News blaring in the background over another styrofoam plate and plastic fork breakfast featuring KAW-FEE brand coffee bean product and individually wrapped English Muffins (which are neither English nor muffins.  Discuss).

There is the occasional quirkiness to be had.  Despite the fact that San Angelo–which only two years ago was proudly putting in all of its tourist literature that it had the highest murder rate west of the Mississippi between 1850 and 1870–is now trying to bill itself as the culture capitol of the Panhandle Plains (a title that is disputed by … well, no one), the town is relatively uninteresting.  A tour around town on a Sunday evening revealed a frightening number of businesses with Christian names (such as: Bible Automotive.  I’m not kidding.) and a dearth of business actually open to the public.  After eating Mexican food from a restaurant that clearly used to be a service station (the food wasn’t bad — Bobby Flay had apparently been there at one point), Natalie and I wound up at Baskin Robbins … along with half the town because, as I may have mentioned, there was nothing else open at 7 pm on a Sunday.

Then there was the unexplained psychedelic van (above) that I stopped to photograph on the way out of town.  And this place:

This place practices false advertising: there are no man’s for sale in the man’s shop.

My most recent trip ended a scant three hours ago with a flourish and flutter (literally: the woman sitting next to me apparently cramming for a medical school exam who had refused four requests to put away her book and notes for landing seemed surprised when it all flew up the aisle upon touchdown.  That’ll learn her).

We were over in El Paso, the one place in the state that, it is regularly agreed upon, we must fly to.  I’ve heard rumors that you can drive it in under eight hours now, with the speed limit on I-10 through west Texas now legally at 80 miles per hour, but I’m more happy to reduce it to an hour and twenty minutes on Southwest Airlines.

I have always liked going to El Paso — in fact, I’ve enjoyed all of our trips to the border area, both in West Texas and down in the Rio Grande Valley (for the uninitiated among you, even though technically El Paso is on the Rio Grande, the term “Rio Grande Valley” seems to only apply to the part between Laredo and Brownsville, on the Gulf of Mexico).  We usually get groups that are really energetic and happy to learn, and this was the case with our session yesterday.  One of the guys was so enthusiastic that he engaged me in conversation in the men’s room.  I am not a particular fan of the conversation-while-I-pee.  If you see me in the men’s room, please don’t strike up a conversation until I’m at the sink, OK?

It’s also saying something about the sort of people that Natalie and I are that we kept coming back to the five or so really negative evaluations we collected at the end of the day.  There were 68 people in the room–our largest audience ever.  The vibe was overwhelmingly positive, but we still kept coming back to those negative ones.  I think somehow we just need to validate that the criticism isn’t valid–we’ve gotten unenthusiastic comments before, but this time the people who didn’t like us really didn’t like us, and they weren’t shy about expressing it.

At the end of the day, though, this last trip was a good note to end the late summer training sessions on.  We had a new audience, and they seemed to be happy with what we were doing.  The people who invited us were effervescent.  And then it was off to have a nice drink in the historic Dome Bar in the lobby of our hotel, the historic Hotel Paso del Norte.

And now … I’m home.  Next up is a trip to a conference in San Juan, Puerto Rico toward the end of September.  Technically it’s work.  I just wonder if I can put sunscreen on my expense account :D

The Queen Boat, Reconsidered

Tuesday, November 11th, 2008

It’s been quite a while since I’ve written one of my long boring posts, so if you don’t like them, well, I’m sorry.

We had a guest lecturer on campus yesterday who got me thinking (which I am wont to do from time to time) about stuff I haven’t thought about in quite a while.  I’m not going to use his name because he made himself a bit infamous for reasons that have nothing to do with the talk he gave, and I don’t want people stumbling across my blog by seeking him out in Google.  If his topic sounds interesting, e-mail me and I’ll point you in the direction of his article.

The gist of his talk is something to the following effect: he argues that what he calls a “sexual binary”–namely that one must either identify as hetero- or homosexual–is a western notion that is being imposed on the rest of the world.  If this sounds post-colonialist, you’re not wrong (if you don’t know what post-colonialism is, don’t worry about it — I’m only passingly familiar with it as I think the concept that your thoughts have to be limited by a school of thought is kind of stupid).

His specialization is the Arab World, and his particular grief is that the West is imposing this sexual binary on the Arab World when human rights groups, NGOs, etc., identify a certain subset of the populace as gay or lesbian, even when those people may not identify as gay themselves.

For the record, I started having problems with this guy’s talk when he contradicted himself by suggesting that Arabs have learned the concept of being exclusively “gay” or “lesbian” from the West, but then later said that he knows there are Arabs who do identify as gay or lesbian and that’s OK.

Now, he’s not one of these guys suggesting that homosexuality is a western disease and that it’s an unnatural behavior learned from the West — what he’s saying is that in a good chunk of the world, sexuality is more polymorphous than a simple binary.  Men who are married to women and have children also have sex with men, for example, and that these societies have constructed space to allow this behavior.  What he’s arguing is that the insistence from outside that these people be recognized as “gay” and given rights that they’re not asking for is actually causing more harm than good.

And then he brought up the example of the Queen Boat.  The story is recapped as follows: in May 2001, police raided a nightclub in Cairo (the Queen Boat — it was one of the nightclubs that’s on a large boat that goes out for a two or three hour cruise on the Nile that are popular among tourists and Egyptians alike) that was a reputed gay hangout.  52 men were arrested and charged with debauchery (there being no law against gay sex in Egypt), and the trials spanned over months.

Several international gay rights organizations picked up the banner and pressured western embassies to take up the cause of Egypt’s “repression of homosexuality.”  The western gay press ran stories about “Egypt’s Stonewall.”

The problem was this: none of the men arrested identified themselves as gay, even under allegations of torture.  The gay press attributed this to a long-standing social stigma against homosexuality, but Our Speaker suggested another explanation: none of the men actually considered themselves gay.  Many, in fact most of them were married and had children.  Instead of being Egypt’s Stonewall, it was a trial that went nowhere, and with the exception of two men who’ve been in jail for years, most of them were free within a couple of months, badly embarrassed at having been accused of “licentious behavior.”  Several of them have since emigrated from Egypt (with wives and children).

Our Speaker argued that the international attention did more harm than good–Egypt at the time had no law against homosexual acts.  Parliament is now considering them, however, in response to the Queen Boat incident.

I was trying to digest all of this–I think he’s got a point, although I think there are problems with his analysis–when a friend of mine, an Egyptian doctoral candidate in history, raised her hand and made a counterpoint that I’d been waiting for.  The Egyptian government was, at the time, facing rising opposition from Islamist parties who were accusing the government of being corrupt and amoral, and were holding themselves to be the protectors of virtue.  Shortly thereafter, the Egyptian government sanctions a raid on a well-known gay nightclub that’s been operating for years and charges everyone on board with amoral behavior.  Coincidence?  She doesn’t think so, and neither do I.

Another example our speaker brought up was the novel/film ‘Omaret Ya’qubian (The Yacoubian Building), which was very popular the last time I was in Cairo in 2006.  Among the characters in the novel–which is a sort of Egyptian Peyton Place, following the lives of the inhabitants of an apartment building in downtown Cairo–is the self-identified homosexual character Hatem, who engages in a relationship with a Nubian soldier, Abed Rabbo.

Our Speaker argued that the novel is essentially Islamist in tone, even though the author clearly thinks he’s being very sophisticated.  Hatem, who lives alone and is the passive partner in the relationship (read: “bottom”) is identified as شاظ “shadh” (or “shaz,” as the Egyptians would pronounce it) which means deviant or pervert, but is also common street slang for gay.  (I started to have problems with his talk around this point, because he was saying that the book was mistranslated into English because shaz used to only mean “deviant” in a much broader sense, even though now anyone who reads the book would read it as “homosexual,” which the author is on record as having said is what he meant).

Abed Rabbo, on the other hand, is married and has a son, and is never identified as a shaz.  (Abed Rabbo later murders Hatem … well, it’s complicated).  Hence, Our Speaker puts forward the suggestion that the behaviour is only deviant because Hatem has sex exclusively with men, and exclusively in the passive role, for which he is “punished” with death at the end of the novel.

Again, he kind of has a point here, although I kind of think that Our Speaker would do well to review, for example, The Celluloid Closet for examples of early gay and lesbian characters in film, who almost always met a tragic end.  One of the explanations of this is that it helped anyone in the audience who was having conflicted issues about feeling sympathetic toward the gay character feel better when he or she “got what they deserved.”  Indeed, audiences who watched the film version of The Yacoubian Building were reputed to cheer Hatem’s death, even if they had been sobbing moments earlier when Abed Rabbo’s son took ill and died.

And then this got me thinking about Prop 8.  I know, it’s kind of crazy that thinking about the tenuous relationship between Islam and homosexuality in Egypt might have gotten me thinking about Prop 8 and the enormous backlash against the Mormons for funding it.  Believe me, I’m all for holding the church accountable for their part–but Californians actually voted for it.  I find it interesting (anthropologically speaking) that someone could stand in the election booth and vote for Barack Obama, arguably one of the most liberal Democrats to run for office in years, on the one hand while voting for Prop 8 on the other and see no contradiction.

What, I wonder, was the tipping point?  I don’t believe that it’s as simple as “the Mormons poured a bunch of money into the campaign and that’s why it passed” (note to Michael: I’m not saying that I don’t think it’s A reason, I’m saying that I don’t think it’s the ONLY reason.)

I don’t have answers to this, I’m merely posing the question: what made the people of what is, next to Massachusetts, considered the most liberal state in the Union decide not only to ban gay marriage but to retroactively alter the state constitution, thus potentially invalidating 18,000+ marragies already on the books?  The LDS campaign may have pushed it over the top (in fact, I’m fairly sure it did), but there was already a solid base to begin.

How could we have made history by electing our first black president and shattering the racial glass ceiling, but reaffirm separate-and-unequal status in several states all in one fell swoop?  Are we the sacrificial lamb being offered up?  “We’ll elect a black guy, but the immorality has to stop” — is that it? Trust me, I’m kind of used to it.  I live in Texas.

But it doesn’t make me happy about any of this.  It just makes me wonder what’s really going on here.

If I have any more thoughts, I’ll share.  You can, too.

How Time Flies

Thursday, January 10th, 2008

Is it Make Up Stories About Foreign Enemies and Then Kill Your Neighbors and Cook Them Day already??

Man, I miss out on all the good holidays …

About the Banner: Istanbul

Thursday, October 12th, 2006

Turkish novelist Orhan Pamuk was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature today, and this has inspired me to create a new banner:

Istanbul

The original photo is here, not much different from the cropped version used in the banner:

IMG 4583

This is Istiklal Cadessi (Independence Avenue) in the heart of Beyoglu, Istanbul’s fashionable European inspired neighborhood. Istiklal is the wild heart of cosmopolitan Istanbul, where cultures, races, creeds, nations, and genders all come together in a loud bizarre mishmash the likes of which you haven’t seen unless you’ve rewatched Tales from the City recently.

I went to Turkey in 2004 for the first time on a Fulbright program that took us first to the troubled island of Cyprus. Coming from a Greek-American family, I’d heard all of the horror stories about both places, about what “they” did to “us.” For the record, both halves of my family are from Greece proper, and we have no relatives in Cyprus, so I’m not sure who “us” is, but that’s another story altogether. As I had begun to suspect, after some time in both places, I realized that most of my relatives had no idea what they were talking about.

On the other hand, there are skeletons in the closets of all three nations: Cyprus, Greece, and Turkey, and so far it seems that Cyprus is the only one of the three that has even remotely begun to take a hard look at itself (even though it’s also the only one that has reason and motive to place a good chunk of the blame for its current situation on outsiders).

When I suggested at a recent family gathering that Greeks and Turks have more in common than they do in difference, my aunt began speaking in tongues and crossed herself so much that I was afraid she’d develop carpal tunnel syndrome. Her Greek sister-in-law (by which I mean that she’s actually from Greece, not of the diaspora) was far less troubled by this statement. And so the struggle continues.

Which brings us back to Orhan Pamuk. He’s been in trouble in Turkey recently for taking his government to task for not allowing open discussion of That Which We Shall Not Discuss: namely, the issue of what happened to Turkey’s Christian minorities in the waning days of the Ottoman Empire (whether it be genocide or not), and the issue of Turkey’s Kurds, for whom the problem can best be summed up in a statement that I heard in a lecture in Ankara: “There is no Kurdish problem. There is no problem for the Kurds at all. They can be anything they choose, as long as they choose to be part of the Turkish nation.”

Pamuk’s greatest achievements, though, as Svenskaakademien recognized in their choice, have to do with his writing. His books play off the conflict and union of cultures as East and West have combined to create something new. Anyone whose read any of his novels recognizes that he’s also taken a uniquely western form of writing (the novel) and made it into something new. (My personal favorite is My Name is Red, set amongst intrigue and murder in 16th century Istanbul).

Pamuk is only the second writer from an Islamic country to be awarded the prize, the first being Egyptian writer Naguib Mahfouz, who died in August. Where Mahfouz was a popular writer, Pamuk seeks to re-define writing on his own terms. Both of them have loads to offer us in the West by way of introspect into how a part of the world that we view only in terms of difference and conflict really thinks, feels, and acts.

 

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