Throw me a fag.
You know what? Just get over here.
I’ve been thinking… Remember those days? When we moved seamlessly through life, often asking ourselves if it could possibly be any better? If the passersby, the colossal statue we shared with them and the same one we fought over, were true to reality? Was it merely an attempt of evading a series of conventional bores? Or did we really come across love in its most infant form?
By Feature WriterYou say you wanted a happy surprise,
A jewel in a piece of sugared dough,
Something to crack a molar on and more.
A life that’s a feast fit for a troll,
A grain of sand that’s bursting with the world,
- All the things you say you want.
By Feature WriterProfessor Nigel Ashton, who recently spoke to Jonathan Mok about the life and legacy of King Hussein, returns to answer questions about Benjamin Netanyahu’s recent speech and what it means for the future of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
Jonathan Mok: How should the Netanyahu speech be interpreted?
Nigel Ashton: Beyond uttering the words ‘Palestinian state’ Netanyahu has not yet conceded the creation of an entity which would have genuine sovereignty. His concept of ‘demilitarisation’ is so wide ranging that any Palestinian state created under it could not be deemed to have full control over its territory and would therefore not be sovereign. Nevertheless, he has at least conceded that peace negotiations cannot proceed on the basis of his opening position which amounted to little more than a form of economic autonomy. So there has at least been some movement in his position even if so far this is limited.
JM: It appears that the Arab world has been silent in response to Bibi’s speech. How do you perceive the apparent lack of interest?
By Feature WriterNigel Ashton’s latest book is entitled King Hussein of Jordan: A Political Life.
Jonathan Mok: Why and when did you get interested in the life of King Hussein?
Nigel Ashton: I’ve been interested in King Hussein ever since I was a PhD student back in the 1980s working on British and American policy in the Middle East during the Suez crisis. I was fascinated from an early stage by the way the King successfully negotiated a series of dangerous challenges to his position and the way in which he managed his relations with other powers in the region.
After King Hussein died in February 1999, I felt it was a good time to start researching a biography of him. Up to that point there had been no full biography written with the benefit of access to his papers and interviews with his close friends, family members, and confidants. Thereafter I made more than a dozen trips to Jordan between 1999 and 2007, carrying out a range of interviews with former political leaders and his close family members, including his wife Queen Noor and his eldest son, King Abdullah of Jordan.
Jonathan: King Hussein seemed never to employ anti-Semitic rhetoric to condemn the Israeli occupation and Jewish lobby in the United States. In fact, he was believed to be good terms with leaders such as Golda Meir and Yitzhak Rabin. How did the King view Jews and the Jewish state?
By Feature WriterThe plate du Jour in most Jordanian newspapers today is a discussion and a debate on taxes. The proponents of tax reduction argue that it would induce additional investments, thus expanding the economy and increasing the size of the pie from which tax revenues can be extracted. Those in the opposite camp, who advocate keeping the tax code as is, are concerned with the expanding deficit and argue that companies which generate the highest tax revenues will not be induced to invest further because of a reduction in taxation, and that any resulting savings will go to the bottom line. The debate is still raging.
The area where few dare to tread is the concept of cost/waste reduction as a means of enhancing revenues or making each Dinar count. Divining cost saving methods requires relevant experience* and hard work. It does not lend itself to slogans and is not particularly glamorous. One remembers the decision of the Water Authority to fix leaking pipes throughout the city of Amman. It was estimated that fixing the pipes is tantamount to increasing the water supply by 30%!
What is required today is a handyman with cross jurisdictional ministerial authority to do the fixing wherever it is required.
By Feature WriterI flew miles and miles to reach your bed,
Where men speak a different language and women say nothing at all.
Here night crouches at the threshold like a hungry cat,
There the eyes of stars are bloodshot with the dawn.
The back of your head contains sweetness I’m afraid will spill,
I’m always chasing it in a crowd.
It’s like a high a young, toothless woman mumbles about,
When she accepts an offer of a cigarette and remembers better days.
By Feature WriterThe British press seem to be continuing to bash Gulf states at every opportunity. Here’s a piece from The Sunday Observator’s bumptious columnist Gerhan Hankins, covering his visit to the nearby state of Bahdobian.
I look at myself in the mirror, sullen face staring back at me, wide, empty London smile fixed to my face, hiding the torment within.
What’s causing this? A meeting I have just had with my editor.
‘Gerhan’, he told me. ‘I want you to go to Bahdobian and write about how rubbish it is.’
‘I thought we loved it,’ I asked. ‘The last five features this paper ran said it was the best thing since sliced bread?’
‘Good point,’ said my editor. ‘The pendulum swings both ways, though. We decided it’s rubbish now.’
‘Fair enough, but why do I need to go? I already know everything there is to know about the place from my friend Germaine Greer – she spent four hours on the bus there only the other day.’
‘I know’, grunted my editor. ‘But we’ve got five days’ free at one of their best hotels, provided we give them a mention in the article you’ll write. File your piece before you leave, if you like – take the week as holiday.’
I’m still in shock. How can I, with my example-setting lifestyle, manage to survive five days in somewhere so awful as Bahdobian?
By Feature WriterSomeone stole
The sugar from the bowl -
On the little backs of ants,
Or the shiny beaks of crows.
I will shake my futile fist
Or I will rip my yellow hair;
It won’t matter, it won’t come,
Once it is no longer there.
By Feature WriterImagine, living in the aftermath of a war that not only occurred before your lifetime, but before the lifetime of your parents. Imagine, growing up in the wake of destruction from a wave that occurred decades before you were born. Imagine, knowing the aftermath without ever having known the antecedent.
Mixing henna for a bride Beit Sahour, West Bank. It's traditional for the women of a village to gather for an evening of dancing, singing, and henna mixing to wish the bride well the night before her wedding.
The majority of Palestinians living in the occupied territories are young people who have spent their lives in the shadow of a war from their great-grandparents’ generation. For Palestinians, it is not simply a matter of one, singular event that drives their situation. Palestinians mark time on an altogether unique clock; major political events designate their experience in a general sense, but for each person there are smaller and more personal events that mark each family’s own timetable.
To better understand the complexity of the term “aftermath” when applied to Palestinians, here is a general rundown on the Palestinian population: First there is the post-1948 population, those who originated in the region that is now the state of Israel. Many fled as refugees to southern Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, and what is now called the West Bank. Then there is the post-1967 population (which contains a large portion of the post-1948 population) that originated in the West Bank but became a mass of internal refugees during the Six Days War of 1967, as well as a population dispersed in refugee camps in Jordan and many other countries. Although separated by two decades, these two events mark the mainelements of the Palestinian Diaspora.
In the summer of 2007, I spent five weeks extensively traveling throughout the West Bank in order to photograph the daily life of Palestinians living under Israeli occupation. Read More
By Feature WriterI distinctly remember the moment before the first punch. He was looking down on me, his fist clenched, his eyes angry and clouded, his arm pulled back for momentum. I screamed, eyes wide in disbelief. I don’t remember if I braced for it or not. I don’t think it would have mattered.
The moment of impact is black. The moment after flooded with emotion—anger, confusion, acceptance, detachment, strength—all in one rush of adrenaline. The rest of the punches all blend together; after one, ten more aren’t all that unique. I don’t remember pain or blood or the feeling of my face breaking in three separate places. The touching, the grabbing, the clawing, the choking, the screaming: clouded and surreal.
What’s vivid was my reaction. It’s the first time I have ever proven to myself that I wanted to live, that I valued my existence. It’s the first time I have actively recognized my rights, the complex role of being a woman, and the sacred ownership of my body. I took it all for granted before that day. I’ve thought about it every day since.
I went abroad to change my views. On the sixteenth day of my year-long life in Amman, Jordan, my perspective of myself, of social roles, of the world changed forever. Read More
By Feature Writer