City of the merlion

Imagine that you are a young boy growing up in a fishing village. Your family is relatively well off and you are lucky enough you have access to education. You do well in school and somehow you find yourself at Harvard Business school studying law. You see a completely different world... a world of success and prosperity. You learn a lot. You see a lot. You like a lot of things, others you don't. Then it's time for you to go home and you are happy to go home, but you decided to bring back a lot of what is good in this place. You decide to create your eutopia.

Singapore is one man's idea of eutopia. It's a strange place that panders to one man's idea of what is and isn't right.

It has a strange mix of the traditional, the modern and the eccentricities of one person and one person alone.  It has all the prosperity that this young man wanted to bring back.  It is economically successful.  It is a model of what Harvard teaches.  Yet, it is a prison.  By virtue of being one man's dream, it belongs to him and only him.  Many do not find themselves in that place.  The choice that many face is either to pander to his dream, be a part of his vision, or cease to exist.  George Orwell never imagined this.

on the tram

I was on the tram headed home last Thursday night. It was around eight in the evening and the tram was full, but not crowded. I was carrying my laptop and some books so was glad to get a seat. I didn't want to stand all the way carrying the heavy bag.

In front of me was a young woman, probably in her early twenties. She was wearing black tights, white runners and a white coloured sports top. She had brown hair and blonde streaks, and was talking on her iphone. She was not quiet. It was hard not to hear every word in her conversation. A conversation that was not pleasant. I didn't want to hear it.

She was obviously talking to a work colleague. They were complaining about a third colleague, maybe a manager.

Lots of people don't like their managers, and many speak ill of them. Not many use such language to describe them in public. It was an appalling conversation. I felt every word penetrate my ear and burn. With every word I felt pain. No human being should be described in such a way, and one should be subjected to such a conversation in a public place. The tram was no place for this.

I leaned slightly over and said "excuse me, do you think we should all be hearing your conversation?"

"wait a minute" she said to her phone partner. "there is a lady here that doesn't want me to talk"

She didn't see a reason for my objection, as if it was her right to speak as loudly as she wanted, and she certainly didn't see anything wrong with the conversation itself.

"I second that" said another woman a few meters down the tram, then another agreed and a few other passengers were now smiling and nodding. I felt encouraged.

"well what do you suggest I do" she asked me sarcastically

"speak lower" I responded "stop talking on the phone, get off the tram"

"there is another one that agrees" she continued to her friend on the phone "and she's fat, you want me to put you on loud speaker? hang on..." she was continuing, other people on the tram were responding.

I stood up "I don't have to listen to this we're obviously not all civilised here" I moved the another section of the tram, put my ipod in my ears, turned it up and ignored the rest of the world.

The other passengers were continuing with the argument. The culprit continued to behave in the most appalling way insulting anyone that spoke to here and her phone partner, now on speaker, joined in. They behaved as if it was their right to behave this way.

I listened to my music.

The tram reached my stop.

I stood up. As I walked towards the door I noticed three inspectors sitting by the door. The large men in inspector uniforms were completely ignoring the events that had still been continuing on the tram.

I dismounted the tram with three thoughts: firstly that most people are decent. Most passengers were disturbed by the events and most, especially the women, were prepared to say something despite the very real possibility that they would become targets of this appalling behaviour. Secondly, that some people don't deserve the lives and opportunities they have, but still carry on in their lives as though they were right and they have the right to be abusive. They will probably not be able to continue in this way for long, because soon enough someone even more abusive will stand in their way.

The third thought supported an observation that I'd had for a long time. People in small positions of authority are not deserving of those positions. Policy officers, parking inspectors, ticket inspectors are the like are not deserving of the respect some portions of society afford them. Too often they deserve worse treatment than the 'culprits' that the system gives them power over.

bright

It is bright in here, there is no darkness.

There is light. There are hopes and dreams.

I have ambition and imaginings.

I dream of a future full of success.

I dream of peace and shelter.

I dream of warmth.

I dream of air and freedom.

I have ambition for success and legacy.

I want to give more than I take, more than I yet have.

I will not be thanked.

It will all be given in silence.

I will not be recognised.

I have anonymity.

That I want to keep.

I want to keep my light.

The more I give, the brighter it is.

I want to keep dreaming of warmth.

I keep dreaming of a future I will never have.

A future as bright as it is in here.

The world needs coordination

I'm on the move again. Travelling.

In fact I'm writing this from an airport.  I hate airports.  They are the only places in the world where the norm is to act like you're homeless.  People sleep on the floor, everybody smells and is grumpy.  I'm no exception.  At least I'm not in high heels and full make-up!

Travel is hard.  It's an ordeal.  Especially for long distance travellers.  But it's not made easier by those in authority.  Those who design the systems are either lacking in intelligent capabilities or derive pleasure in making people say 'how high'!

Tell me this.  You pack your bags and make sure no sharp objects are in your carry on luggage (why tweezers are dangerous I'll never understand, but apparently I have to spend the two days  feeling that one hair that I just can't quite pull out, and feeling very self conscious about it. I miss my tweezers).  You make sure that all your liquids and gels are in small bottles less than a hundred mills and all in a single A5 size plastic bag.  This, in my opinion, serves two purposes, firstly to generate a trade in the small and un-economic size cosmetic products that last only as long as your flight, and secondly to make you feel uncomfortable... people who have dry skin need to moisturise.  I should get exemption.

Anyway, so you take all your precautions and you jump through all the hoops to get into the international terminal.  Including a pat-down search mind you... randomly!  And you are finally on the plane.  They tell you to keep hydrated but don't give you any water or let you bring your own.  Who do I sue if I get deep vein thrombosis and extremely dry skin due to lack of water and moisturising?

You endure 15 hours in a seat smaller than you'd get on a bus, and avoid getting up so as not to disturb the other person who would have to get up every time you felt the need to stretch your feet.  You use plastic knives because that is all they trust you with.

Then you finally land and are herded onto a bus, then a terminal, then you go up some stairs, then some more stairs, all the while feeling like a rat in one of those glass mazes to test their intelligence and how long it takes them to find the food.  Before you know it you are in a long long line going through more metal detectors before they let you into the terminal to wait for your next connecting flight!

What is the point of that.  Is it just to make people stand in long lines carrying their luggage. Then make them all take off their belts, shoes and watches?  What security purpose is it serving? What could I have possibly picked up on the flight that would require this sort of precaution?

I finally get through into the international terminal.  I have no idea where I was before that!

I start to  think about the next four hours.  I try to call a friend who happens to live in this city.  Seems like catching up would be a good use of the four hours they are making me spend here.  Little did I know a single phone call was no small ask.  I have no phone card.  The public phones don't take any other form of payment.  And to top it all off it seems my new mobile network lied when they said I had roaming access.  I'm carrying a brick!

So I try to hunt for a phone card.  I ask the information desk with a big 'i' and the girl didn't know.  Am I really the first person to try making a phone call in this airport??!!!

I walk to the next information desk and I get pointed to a shop.  I stand in line at the shop, and as soon as it's my turn the shop assistant turns around and walks away.  Tell me, is it common practice for people to stand in long lines at registers only to leave as soon as they get to the front?  Why would I be standing there if I didn't have a question?

Anyway, he pointed me to another counter... eventually I reach the magic counter where they stock phone cards.  Supposedly I have to buy a 30 dirham card just to make a single phone call that would cost about 1 or 2 dirhams.  They don't make any smaller cards.

I ask if I can pay in Australian currency.

"yes maam"

"how much"

"nearly twoew dollar"

"what?"

"twoew"

"twenty?"

"No maam twoew"

I look blankly then the colleague comes to the rescue "twelve dollars"

Oh twelve.  

I hand her a twenty dollar note.  She says they can only give me change in the local currency.

Do I really want to spend twenty dollars just to make a fifty cent call?

I rummage in my purse and luckily find exact change.  I hand her twelve dollars exactly.

"I'm sorry maam we don't accept coins"

Are they serious? What sort of a policy is that?  Who thought up that rule and what purpose does it serve?  If you don't accept coins, don't charge me amounts that have to be paid in coins.  Come to think of it all I wanted was a fifty cent phone call.   I don't want the phone card in the first place.

I protest by walking away and blogging.  At least they have a wireless connection that can talk to my laptop.  Thank God for small mercies.  I now get to spend the remaining three hours on the web.... but some websites are blocked!

The world needs better co-ordination.  There are too many idiots at the helm.

The blaming soul

...To dwell at the stage of blaming oneself is to dwell in hope and trust. It is to turn oneself over to God, since only the awareness of God in the first place allows one to blame oneself. Rumi makes this point in answer to one of his disciples who was upset at the way in which people had to kowtow to the Mongol rulers of the time, who were not even Muslims:

"In former times [said the disciple], the truth-concealers worshipped idols and prostrated themselves before them. Today we do the same thing. We go before the Mongols and prostrate ourselves and show all kinds of respect to them. Then we consider ourselves Muslims! And we have many other idols within ourselves, such as greed, caprice, spite, and envy. We obey all of them. Hence, outwardly and inwardly we act the same as the idol-worshipers, but we consider ourselves Muslims!"

The master answered: "But there is one more thing. It enters your mind that 'This is bad and cannot be approved of.' Hence the eye of your heart has certainly seen some ineffable, indefinable, and tremendous thing that shows these to you as ugly and shameful. Salt water appears salty to someone who has drunk fresh water. 'Things become clear through their opposites. Hence God has placed the light of faith in your soul, and it sees these things as ugly. After all, they appear ugly in comparison to that light's beauty. If not, why don't others have this pain? They are happy in what they are doing and say, 'This is the thing." God will give you what you seek for. Wherever your aspiration lies, that you will become. 'The bird flies with its wings, and the person of faith flies with his aspiration.' "

(Taken from Sachiko Murata and William C. Chittick, The vision of Islam, Paragon House St. Paul, Minnesota, 1994, p316, the quote is referenced as: Adapted from Chittick, Sufi Path of Love, pp. 152-53, 212)

On the fall of Adam

Ahmad Sam'ani, one of the great sufi Persian poets, wrote Rawh al-arwah fi sharh asma' al-malik al-fattah, (The Refreshment of the Spirits: Explaining the Names of the All-Opening King 1368/1989).

This is an extract taken from William C. Chittick, Sufism A Short Introduction, 2000, Oneworld Oxford, p132.

On the fall of Adam:

"O dervish! On the day when Adam slipped, they beat the drum of good fortune for all human beings, God set down a foundation with Adam at the beginning of the work. He gave him a capital from His own bounty.

The first example of bounty that He gave Adam was that He placed him in paradise without any worthiness and without his asking. And the first example that Adam displayed of his own capital was his slip.

God made a contract with Adam at the beginning of this business. The stipulation of the contract was that whenever someone buys something, or sells something, he has to give a taste.  Adam gave a taste of his capital when he disobeyed the command and ate the wheat. God gave him a taste of the cup of bounty when He pardoned that slip.

No sin is as great as the first sin. This is especially true when the person was nourished on beneficence and nurtured through blessings. The angels had to prostrate themselves before him - the throne of his good fortune was placed on the shoulders of those brought near to God. He was brought into paradise without any worthiness. God gave him a home in the neighborhood of His own gentleness. Since He pardoned the first slip, this is proof that He will pardon all sins.

After all, we have a thousand times more excuses than Adam had. If the darkness of clay is necessary, we have it. If the weakness of earth is necessary, we have it. If the impurity of stinking mud is necessary, we have it. If some confused bites of food are necessary, we have them. If the times should have become dark with injustice and corruption, we have that. If the accursed Iblis has to be sitting in wait for us, we have him. If caprice and appetite have to dominate over us, we have that. At the first slip, Adam was excused without any of these meanings. Since we have all these opacities, why should He not forgive us? In truth, He will forgive us."

Ahmad Sam'ani died in 1140.

PS. (added 4 March 2009)

I came across this the other day which brought the point home for me:

"...the Prophet said, "no time will come to you which will not be followed by one that is more evil until you encounter your Lord." "

Sachiko Murata, William C. Chittick, The Vision of Islam, Paragon House, St. Paul, Minnesota, 1994, p332.

Diary 3-11-2007

The woman spoke about the housing market, prices and interest rates. It's worth paying more in todays money for a parking spot.
I opened my eyes. I've acquired a new piece of knowledge that I won't be able to attribute later. It's hard to get oriented when you've had so little sleep, and the radio often incorporates itself into my dream. The intrusion is at its worst when it's the news. Images of war and death are quite unpleasant in my dreams.

It was half past eight and I'd snoozed a few times already. Sleep should not be this scarce, but there was a whole new day waiting and I could no longer delay facing it.

Groggily I dragged myself out of bed, I have an appointment with the hairdresser this morning and need to shampoo. I always spend more time in the shower when I shampoo my hair. It's impossible to have three, four, or even ten minute showers when shampooing. I feel guilty about it, but there must be another solution. Whoever came up with these figures cannot possibly understand what it entails to deal with long, thick curls. They just have no clue.

It's ten and I'm still chewing breakfast. Having breakfast is a weekend novelty, I don't want to give it up. I need to make a phone call before leaving. I have this day planned almost to the second.

Ten minutes past ten and I'm on my way. It's all going according to plan. I remembered how much I'm enjoying driving a manual. Apart from the pure enjoyment of it, it's a great show off factor. Girls don't drive manual, usually. It has shock appeal. I like that.

Traffic though was not helping. I suddenly remembered that I was taking the worst possible route. I was going past the race grounds on cup weekend. I'm still enjoying the drive, but I'm running late. I was supposed to be there early, but now I'll be late.

It gets worse, there is no parking. I spend a full twenty minutes looking for parking and finally arrive forty minutes late for my appointment.

Midday, I'm stuck in traffic again. It's raining now and I actually do a burnout in front of the dozen or so cops directing traffic. God I hope they're not feeling cranky today. It could get interesting.

I get home just in time for a very quick check of my email. There are disadvantages to being a social node. It's time consuming at times. A lot of time is spent trying to maintain relationships. Each in its own way and each in its own medium.

Three in the afternoon and I'm already receiving a message informing me that my next catchup is stuck in traffic and will be late. I didn't bother replying that I too was stuck in "yucky traffic" and am running late. Finally we find each other and find where we were supposed to meet.
This is a friend I had not seen in six years. We had emailed every once in a while and rarely spoke on the phone. Actually I think it had been a few years since the last phone conversation. Our lives are dramatically different now.

Her father was dying and she was coping in her own way. She was planning. She has no control over her father's death, but she has control over what she would wear to the funeral. So she enlisted my help in hunting for appropriate clothing. I think I am the only rope some people have to link them to Islam, or Muslims. She was wanting to find trendy scarves to wear to the funeral. I didn't think it was morbid, just practical. I would probably do the same thing if I were in her shoes.

The shop we went to was quite the discovery. I think she loved it more than I did, but I wasn't going to tell her my criticisms. I've learnt how my words can sometimes affect people in ways I had not intended. I remained silent. She was very enthusiastic. I was once like that. It seems like a long time ago now.

We caught up over coffee and a hot chocolate later. We've both moved on a long way, but were still the same people. She told me how she was tired of people in her lives trying to control her. That she was too busy to notice if she was happy or not.

It's seven already and I'm still changing in and out of my jeans. I like wearing them, but this may not be an appropriate venue for them. I don't want to feel under dressed. I'm running late again. It's raining.

I finally decide to be comfortable. It was never about the jeans. It was about the scarf. Did I really want to stop wearing it? How strong would I be? How confident am I?

Seven thirty and it's me this time that is sending a message that I would be late.

I'm meeting with some friends tonight that I have not seen in ten years. That is a long time for someone my age. I don't have many ten years behind me. I'd done a lot of growing up in this decade, but I'm still the same person. I'm just living in a very different life.

I can't find this place. It's raining, I don't want to keep looking any more. I simply ask one of the other restaurateurs. He smiled at me and said "come this way"
I was surprised, I apologised for asking him directions to his competition. "No" he said "we're only happy that people come to this area, the owner is a good friend of mine. Say hello"
"And who am I saying hello from?" I asked
"Rob" he responded as he pointed to my destination "enjoy your night and come by have a coffee after your dinner if you like. You are a very beautiful woman"
I was flattered. It was small, probably inappropriate, but it gave me that bit of confidence I was looking for all day. I didn't regret keeping the scarf.

Dinner was great. These were the people I liked back in school. We posed for lots of pictures. Will be posted in our facebooks soon no doubt. My other friends will see this part of me. It's all me but they see different sides.

There was a male belly dancer at this restaurant. The food was quite bad, but the belly dancer was a novelty. It was a guilty pleasure watching him gyrate so professionally. He was good. All the women flocked to him. Was it the dancing or was it the pheromones mixed in his sweat?

We were all single at the table. I remembered why we'd lost touch a decade ago. Out of high school everyone of them found a boyfriend, and our outings turned into me feeling quite uncomfortable and left out. So I simply stopped coming and they stopped inviting me. We'll never admit to that of course. 'We just lost contact', 'we moved' lots of excuses, none really true. Our lives moved on and here we were. All single. They've come round. They finally understand.

It's not about finding someone, one friend said. If I wanted to, it's the easiest thing to walk out to that club over there and pick up as many as I want. The problem is we're picky.. and the guys are intimidated because we are independent. I laughed on the inside. I thought this was just a Muslim problem, but apparently not.

I heard news of other friends. One, a close one who had helped me through a rough time, was not in good shape. She had acquired a disability. I was saddened. This could never happen to "us". This happened only to other people who appear on tv, not in real life, to my real life friends. But we were living in the real world, some more real than others. We all get what we are meant to get.

Eleven o'clock and I'm stopped at a traffic light. Two men, probably intoxicated in some way, are stopped to my right. It's a warm night and our windows are down, trying to feel some of that rare breeze. "Hey" they yell out at me "what's with the scarf? why are you wearing it"
"It's a religious thing" I answered despondently.
"what are you?"
"Muslim"
"what nationality are you?"
"Australian" I was in defensive mode by now
"yes but where are you originally from?"
"Australia"
"originally, where are you originally from?" they were getting frustrated by now
"my parents are from Australia, I'm not from anywhere else"
"can you get that?" they asked
"yes you can" I said and was thankful the light had turned green and skidded off at speed.
What I should have said was " yes, anyone can choose to be Muslim regardless of where they are or where they are from", but I was too defensive and caught off guard by then. They will never remember anyway.

I picture myself giving advice to a child. 'child' I say in my imagination 'you just be what you are, everyone else has their problems behind this facade. You just be what you need to be. You don't need approval from anyone'.
I wished someone had told me that as a child.

It's almost two in the morning. I'm ignoring another male. He's shocked that I've rejected him and he's behaving in quite an immature way. It's easier to just ignore him than to deal with it right now. I need to rest.

I will now retire this day. Put it past me and wonder. What will tomorrow bring? What could possibly happen? Who will I be?