On Olives & Sake: The Written Episodes of My Life

Moving...

2008-12-06T01:06:00.002+09:00

I have been on this blog for more than 3 years already. It has been my little place of solace for a long time. But now, change is in order.

I am moving to a more comfortable, and accessible place.

http://yazanbadran.com/blog/

Update your links, and follow me there to give you a quick tour of my new house.

I have to say, I will miss the blue lines of this blog.

Ciao Blogspot.

Their Golan

2008-12-01T01:13:00.007+09:00

Syrian Bloggers decided to initiate a Blogging week about the Golan.

Here is my participation,

To be honest, I find it rather funny and comical, how all of Syria suddenly decided to remember this Golan a few years ago. Everyone at the same time seems to have gotten this divine message on how we are entitled to the Golan.

Are we entitled to the Golan?

Tell me, how are we entitled to that land?

We betrayed it. We (collectively) let it succumb to our enemy, we let its people down and we lost them their homes, their lands, and their families. We were the ones who turned its people into Nazeheen (refugees). We are the ones who left them in the most dire of situations, and continued watching our Maraya. We are the ones who turned our backs on them after we lost them their homeland, and we are the ones who continue to ignore their plight, and leave them living in the slums. We are the ones who continue to treat them like second-class citizens. And we were the ones who also turned a deaf ear to the plight of their courageous families who decided to stay in that land. We were the ones who ignored it for years on end, and then decided to dust it out of the box when we found it politically viable.

You and I, can lay no claim to the Golan. We have no moral right to that land.

But make no mistake; that land belongs, and will always do, to the brave men and women who stayed there, and refused to give away their ID cards for 40 years. It belongs to the disenfranchised and poverty-stricken generations of Nazeheen. Those who were thrown out of their homes, into this pathetic excuse for a homeland. They, and only they, can lay claim to that land.

They lay claim to the land, and they lay claim to our conscience.

We own not a single stone in that land, rather, we owe it to them.

Nevertheless, just as much as we have no moral claim to it, we have a moral responsibility to bring it back to them, kiss their foreheads and ask for forgiveness.

When Will This Circle of Horror End?

2008-11-29T23:02:00.003+09:00

Had Gadia - From Amos Gitai's Free Zone.

Cynicism at its best

2008-11-26T02:04:00.003+09:00

If you did not actually know for a fact that this is the real Walid bin Talal, what would your reaction be?

I watch his body language and the background, and wonder, what the hell?

Random Snippets of Life

2008-11-13T22:09:00.004+09:00

I started writing computer programs back in 1993. My cousin Houssam had just come back from Germany with a Ph.D, and took on himself to start an information revolution in our sleepy Latakia. I was his first and most personal student. I remember those first few months quite vividly. I remember almost all the programs that we made on LogoWriter. That summer, I remember spending 8-9 hours everyday in front of those black and white screens. (Pixel-burners as they used to be called, because the monitor physical pixels would actually be burnt out if they weren't changed in a timely manner, hence the invention of Screen Savers!). My mom wasn't very impressed when my glasses doubled in thickness the next year.

Houssam, 10 years after coming back, went into depression, sold everything and moved back to Dubai/Germany.

After coming back from Syria this October, my Professor offered me to join his Lab. I am writing programs again (a little more complicated than moving a drawing turtle, but still programs). It feels just as satisfying as it did 15 years ago.

***

I love the Spring and Autumn time in Japan. Spring here (and autumn likewise) is an explosion of Color, rather than colors. What overwhelms you is not all the different colors that pop out of no where, rather, the intensity of that pinkish hue that overtakes everything. The cherry blossoms bring out all the spectrum of white and pink, they fill out the trees, the ground and the sky. Every single petal has its own distinct lifelines of pink, but all of them seem to flow together in perfect harmony.

Japanese spring comes unannounced, takes you by surprise, and leaves just as unexpectedly. In 2 weeks, you won't find a trace of that white blanket that used to cover everything... All that you're left with is Summer. Autumn, however, sneaks in much more slowly, the leaves start changing colors in early October, bringing out all the burning of red and the seriousness of brown. It takes over everything you see, by mid Noveember. Even the November sunsets, they all seem to be intertwined in some heavenly plot to paint the city tangerine. Autumn never really leaves, in the coldest of winters, there would still come Sundays where it feels as if Autumn is in full blow.

***

I find myself, more often than not, repelled by the argument that there is no fundamental difference between masculinity and femininity. And that the whole concept of Gender is a socially constructed type of myth.

I agree heartily that our own perception of Gender is terribly flawed and inevitably affected by centuries of conscious social imbalance.
However, that does not, in any way, negate the fact that even before human consciousness, gender was indeed a factor in self-perception, and that gender is rooted in the very concept of the sexual act.

I find it hard to believe, that through the 200 million years of evolution, since the first mammal, having one particular dominant pattern for sexual reproduction, had no effect whatsoever on the self-perception and even the evolution of both sexes.

***

Lately, I've been having quite a hard time going to sleep early. Insomnia has plagued my nights for almost a month, while sleep deprivation ruins my few hours of sunlight.

It's a terrible feeling when you're rolling in your bed, thousands of thoughts seem to race around at that particular moment. You catch yourself, one too many times, conversing with yourself, or with a person that happens to be stuck in the back of your head that night. I have found myself, involuntarily, conversing with people that I haven't met in years, or people that I've only met once, a long time ago, just because I happened to land on their name, or facebook page before I went to sleep.

Every half an hour or so of futile attempts to sleep, or when my thoughts lead me to particularly painful or depressing memory, I light up my cell phone, look at the time, sigh, and shake all the thoughts out of my head. Maybe even open my macbook and take a look at my email. A glance at the clock and suddenly it's not 2:30 anymore, it's 3:15 now, 1 hour less of sleep.

Good night everyone!

Radiohead

2008-10-03T23:06:00.003+09:00

Hypnotizing, is the word. Radiohead's concert was hypnotizing.

Listening to Thom Yorke chant Exit Music (for a film) with a completely silent crowd was a truly exceptional experience.

You can try the best you can
If can try the best you can
The best you can is good enough

Radiohead - Optimistic - Live in Osaka

And ofcourse, the most natural thing to wrap up an evening like this in japan was...

On Hope

2008-09-26T04:39:00.004+09:00

Almost a year ago, I was sitting in the office of the head of the Political Security apparatus in Damascus, to get an approval for a new passport instead of that stolen in Thailand. I was sitting there, listening to him as he read out loud my father’s file, and counted the number of arrest warrants with his name. That was less than a week after my parents’ death.
He rolled up in his big fancy leather chair, and said, “What exactly guarantees, that if we do give you a new passport, you wont go and turn out to be an asshole like your father?” I closed my eyes, swallowed myself, and let my uncle do the talking.
2 days later, I walked out of the immigration bureau of Homs with a brand new passport, and the freedom to leave anytime I wanted. Less than a week later I was boarding a plane to Egypt and eventually back to Japan.

That flight was probably the worst, and darkest two hours I’ve ever had to go through. My sense of abandonment was the only individual thing I could put my hands on. Everything else was just blurry, and painful.
I looked around as I was leaving and couldn’t think of a single reason for me to come back. I couldn’t find any part of me in anyone or anything here. I remember thinking back then of what a pathetic, deformed and fragile generation I was representing.
Followed by the most terrible year of my life in Japan. I had to literally deconstruct my own sense of identity. This pathetic, deformed and fragile identity that grew through years of the most honest forms of make-believe and doublethink. One that promised to collapse under any pressure, to leave me, at 21, completely naked and defenseless, sitting in a plane heading nowhere.
I’ve hit rock bottom this last year. The feeling that took over me at these moments was one of utter homelessness. There was not a single place where I felt any sense of belonging, not even within myself.

Now, as I look back at last year, I realize that I’ve completely come a full circle since that October. While I am nowhere closer to reconstructing my own sense of identity, I do feel like I already have the means to do it. And it will take years before I fully comprehend why and how this happened, this sudden collapse of everything I knew as part of me.
During the last month I spent here, a tremendous amount of recovery happened. Walking through the narrow alleys of the old city of Tartous tempted me to venture into the few old houses that still survive in my own Latakia, to talk to their people and listen to their stories. The little camel arcs that I saw while I was walking through this strange mix of new ugly facades and old rocks felt like they were filling a real empty spot in my mind.
I felt so close to this place, I felt like we were going through the same exact crisis. My Latakia too had a collapse in its own sense of identity. It wasn’t sudden, and it was more like someone shattering a fine china plate, but the end result was almost the same. I, like many others now, was living on the very edge of the cliff. The whole country is living off the edge of a cliff.

The only thing that I can see clearly around me is this collective lack of belonging. This collective collapse of everything people were building as their identity. Not many are conscious of what is happening, but even them, you can see them desperately trying to hold on to anything that may be saved.
It is truly sad to see this happening, in a sense. But it also offers a real chance to truly change. To try to reconstruct together our own national identity, just as we do with our own personal one. To start critiquing ourselves, and our world more consciously. To dust off our own layers and layers of cement and ugly facades and look what’s underneath. To read our own history more critically, and reconnect with it. To regain a long lost sense of dignity and humanity. To try and let this generation recognize its problems, and express them.
It’s a monumental challenge. But it doesn’t seem like any of the people in power is willing to recognize it. Everybody seems happy to just surrender this place and its people to this strange mix of old wooden language, mazot and mega projects.

Summer

2008-07-19T17:18:00.002+09:00

Two more weeks to go, and I am off to another airport. I am particularly looking forward to this summer. In many ways, it will be a much-needed closure, and hopefully it will provide me with, also, much needed inspiration and motivation.

This will probably be the last visit to Syria in a while. As I finish my second year here, I will have to pay more attention to internship opportunities and actually start thinking of my post-graduation plans, hence, less time to spend on airplanes to the Middle East. There’s no point in making assumptions though, I’ve learnt my lesson, that plans don’t always (almost never) work the way you thought they would. Nonetheless, just for the sake of argument let’s lose the cynicism for a while.

I finish my last final on the late afternoon of the glorious day of July 31st. I drink myself into absolute unconsciousness and spend August 1st enjoying my hangover without worrying about homework, linger around the apartment and pack my stuff.
At the early hours of the morning of August 2nd, I head out to Osaka, dragging three bags (?). Spend the day with the wonderful Bulgarians of Kansai, and then jubilantly take the train to the airport the next day.

This is my tentative plan for the next couple of weeks.

It will be a well-packed summer.

August 2-9, Kuala Lampur, Malaysia (I am using Malaysian airlines, and I couldn't resist stopping in Malaysia on the way). Which will include spending another one of those random birthdays in random places with random people (I still haven’t made up my mind whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing).

August 10-15, Beirut, a little trip down memory lane.

August 15 (hopefully), off to Latakia and then off again to Damascus for what is arguably the highlight of my summer, Ziad Rahbani, Live in concert.

August 22-25, back to Beirut for a blogging conference, and more importantly have a chance to catch up with the wonderful Sami, and try to drag him for a few days in Latakia.

The rest of the trip, try to rediscover the places, the people and the language. Which will probably include:

- Spending much time on coach-buses between Latakia, Homs, Damascus, Aleppo and the beautiful little sister of Tartous.
- Many lazy days on the beach, or somewhere in the greenery of Kasab.
- As little coffee as possible, and in that same spirit, as much alcohol as possible.

But, for now, Let me get back to my Assembly homework.

On Paris

2008-07-13T18:34:00.011+09:00

Seeing our President in Paris gives me a whole set of mixed feelings. It isn’t hard to notice why this is a big event for Syria and Syrians. Ending a horrible 3 years of speculations and dreadful possibilities. The Syrian regime has come out unscathed, stronger and definitely scored much higher than its foes on the credibility scale (ironically enough, that is). They shouldn’t take all the credit though, for what better enemies could you have than the imbecile trio of Bush, the Saudis and the March 14ers. Having the Saudis in a coalition that was oh-so concerned with human rights violations of the regime, was no less comedic than having the March 14ers whining about foreign intervention in Lebanon, and the sectarian nature of Hizbulla. Nonetheless, it would be futile not to admit that they have successfully navigated the most treacherous of waters. As to why did we have to venture there in the first place, that will be up for discussion and disagreement for years to come. No matter what you have to say about them (and there is a lot to be said), I can’t say I’m not enjoying this break from that constant stream of ignorant (if not flat out racist and hypocritical) media portrayal of Syria.

On the other hand, as beautiful and elegant our First Gentleman and First Lady look together as they walk down that red carpet, I can’t help wondering whether people like Michel Kilo, Anwar al-Bunni or Aref Dalileh even cross their minds as they smile and shake hands. As they walk triumphantly through the streets of Paris, what kind of a country do they think of, that country that they left behind. What do they think of that? The poverty, the corruption, the pollution, the monopolies, and the stagnant social, educational, political and cultural life. What about Seydnaya?

I know this post might raise some eyebrows. But I think, it is very sad to see how we are coerced, everyday, to live our lives in that narrow space of black and white, wrong and right. I, for one, don’t feel like I can play that game. That being said, it does not mean that I am simply neutral. I am, and will always be, strongly opinionated. The fact is, I would feel like a hypocrite if I had to tweak or modify (no matter how little) my own sense of the world just so I can join one of them (camps), and be “opinionated”. It would be, and let me quote Wassim on this one, more like “Political cheerleading”.

2008-07-12T04:32:00.001+09:00

It’s hard to write, if you’re not reading. A very simple fact.
The last book I read was Pamuk’s Snow. It took a lot of effort, and resilience to finish it. I’m not sure why, at any other time I would’ve devoured it in a day. The story is beautifully written, and the scenery is breathtaking. Nonetheless, it took me 43 days, to be exact, to finish it.
I’ve never been this far away from the written word.
I miss the thick yellow pages of our Library. My father had a passion for the old novels printed in the 1930s-1960, when paper still had a texture, when every book had a distinct smell. He passed that down to me.
I spent hours on end flipping and reading Churchill’s war memoirs. I loved the smell it left on my fingers after I put it back on the shelf.
It was Jubran that put my little heart’s ache into words. I was 10, and she sat behind me in class, the most beautiful girl that ever wore that brown uniform.
I loved reading them times and times again. It was all too easy for me to start over from the beginning and go through the story as if it was the very first time. I might have read Farewell to Arms more than twenty times, yet it never failed to shake me all over again.
I can’t help thinking of all these characters, not characters, but people. All these people that I’ve come to meet, and care for. It’s disturbing to think they’re all nothing but a product of one’s mind, just like Sophie in Sophie’s World.
The words of these novels feel so far away now, but that distinct smell of age lingers on. It reminds me how tired I am of, and how terrible I am at this passive game of waiting.

Leaving the Island, finally

2008-06-25T19:58:00.002+09:00

There is something that fascinates me in Airports. An amazing, restless flow of energy and emotions.

Off to another airport...

The truth is...

2008-06-05T22:07:00.001+09:00

I'm a wreck.

That's the truth.

I can't sleep until I'm too tired to open my eyes, and once I do, I never want to wake up. I have dreams of everything I wanted to do, and nightmares of everything I did.

I struggle to concentrate, I struggle, I truly, struggle to be interested in anyone, or anything around me.

I feel as homeless as can be. And it's choking me alive. There is nothing worse than this feeling of alienation from everything that used to your home. This disconnection, this continuous state of denial. I think I've forgotten how to belong anymore.

I'm tired. I'm really tired, and I know well enough that a break, just won't do.

Happy 6th of June everybody.

Disillusionment

2008-05-21T23:28:00.005+09:00

"We are condemned to hope..."

Saadallah Wannous.

I know I am running the risk of being cursed by Wassim for over-quoting Saadallah Wannous, but that is exactly what I am feeling. What happened today, gives absolutely no real reason (especially if you look at the history of our Middle East) to be hopeful, be it the Syrian-Israeli renewed talks, or the "breakthrough" agreement in Doha. Nonetheless, it is sometimes necessary to take in, these very little shreds of hope, close your eyes, and think, just think, of a better day.

I, confirmed my flight to Beirut this August.

Palestine Day, May 15

2008-05-14T19:38:00.001+09:00

أَنَا يُوسُفٌ يَا أَبِي.
يَا أَبِي، إِخْوَتِي لاَ يُحِبُّونَنِي،
لاَ يُرِيدُونَنِي بَيْنَهُم يَا أَبِي

يَعْتَدُونَ عَلَيَّ وَيَرْمُونَنِي بِالحَصَى وَالكَلاَمِ
يُرِيدُونَنِي أَنْ أَمُوتَ لِكَيْ يَمْدَحُونِي
وَهُمْ أَوْصَدُوا بَابَ بَيْتِكَ دُونِي
وَهُمْ طَرَدُونِي مِنَ الحَقْلِ
هُمْ سَمَّمُوا عِنَبِي يَا أَبِي
وَهُمْ حَطَّمُوا لُعَبِي يَا أَبِي

حَينَ مَرَّ النَّسِيمُ وَلاَعَبَ شَعْرِيَ
غَارُوا وَثَارُوا عَلَيَّ وَثَارُوا عَلَيْكَ،
فَمَاذَا صَنَعْتُ لَهُمْ يَا أَبِي

الفَرَاشَاتُ حَطَّتْ عَلَى كَتِفَيَّ،
وَمَالَتْ عَلَيَّ السَّنَابِلُ،
وَالطَّيْرُ حَطَّتْ على راحتيَّ

فَمَاذَا فَعَلْتُ أَنَا يَا أَبِي،
وَلِمَاذَا أَنَا

أَنْتَ سَمَّيْتَنِي يُوسُفًا،
وَهُمُو أَوْقَعُونِيَ فِي الجُبِّ، وَاتَّهَمُوا الذِّئْبَ
وَالذِّئْبُ أَرْحَمُ مِنْ إِخْوَتِي..

أَبَتِ! هَلْ جَنَيْتُ عَلَى أَحَدٍ عِنْدَمَا قُلْتُ إِنِّي:
رَأَيْتُ أَحَدَ عَشَرَ كَوْكَبًا، والشَّمْسَ والقَمَرَ، رَأَيْتُهُم لِي سَاجِدِينْ.

محمود درويش

The World

2008-05-13T19:36:00.003+09:00

China: 12,000 dead and counting in a 7.8 earth quake.

Burma: The Burmese government still rejecting aid while the death toll still rises from initial reports of 100,000. [I'm sure someone will come to their defense, I mean, I'm sure they are a victim of a biased western media, just because of their righteous anti-western policies, No?]

Meanwhile in Lebanon, Bush offers to extend help to the army so it can disarm Hizbulla [Reads: If you guys still need any help dragging yourself to full blown civil war, we'd be more than glad to help].

And personally, I refuse to be drawn into a game of "Either this, or that...", it is not either Hariri or Nasrallah, just like it's not either Assad or Bush. I'm very sorry for those marching armies of color-blind people.

The more accurate picture

2008-05-09T11:14:00.003+09:00

I don't want to look at the bigger picture anymore, it matters very little when the smaller one is this dark.

All I can see right now is, Lebanese people shooting at other Lebanese people. All I can see is, people eager to start shooting, put up barricades, and split Beirut into "Manate2" [zones].

At this moment, I care very little whether this was orchestrated by the US, or Syria. Iran, or Israel. If I look carefully, all I can see is, Lebanese people shooting at Lebanese people.

Is Islamic culture stronger than Barbie?

2008-04-28T23:34:00.011+09:00

"Promoting figures like Barbie, Batman, Spiderman and Harry Potter and the uncontrolled import of CDs of video games and films should alarm all the country's officials," Ghorban Ali Dori Najafabadi was quoted as saying by the student ISNA news agency.

"We need to find substitutes to ward off this onslaught, which aims at children and young people whose personality is in the process of being formed," he added.

Dori Najafabadi's comments came in a letter to an Iranian vice president, urging measures to protect "Islamic culture and revolutionary values".

This was not how I intended to get back to the blogsphere after my long hiatus, but statements like these truly infuriate me.
What is really alarming, and what is a real crisis is what hides behind this pronounced anti-western sentiments Muslims [Or at least those who speak for them] seem to be competing over. I think it hides a serious inferiority complex, one that people seem in complete self-denial about.

Is there any other explanation to all the fuss we get whenever there's a westerner who converts into Islam? Is it that we think it makes our case stronger? Is it that we think they ARE better than us, and their recognition raises us a little bit more? Is there any other explanation for why we keep quoting those western journalists with such vigor [For a wider perspective on this, you might want to read Rime's post]? Why is it that an American reporter who knows close to nil about the region, is always more authoritative a source [To us, that is. Depending which side of the divide you're on, you will have your own list of journalists.] than any local reporter, or even an expat journalist who might happen to know the region [Yes, standards of academic research and reporting are higher, most of the time. But, that is not the reason why we love them so much, if it was, we wouldn't have been so selective about WHO we listen to].

It just seems that those who are most critical of and most aggressive towards the "decaying west" appear to be, at the end of the day, the most desperate for its approval, at least subconsciously.

But, doesn't it make sense? Isn't it the simple law of Identity. Whenever a component of your Identity is in danger [or is perceived to be in danger], you magnify it until it eats up all other parts of your identity. And the poorer your perception of your identity gets, the less confidence you have in it. And the less confidence you have, the more aggressive, defensive and eventually a defeatist, that you become.

And all these Salfis/Wahabis/etc... who present their magical banner of "Islam is the Solution", in the form of letting go of all these "western" influences that we have been misguided to think of as civilization, or at least a collective development for the human race, shut out the rest of the world and go back to the "real Islam". Then and only then will we be victorious again. Then and only then will Baghdad, Damascus and Cairo be back as the centers of human cultures.
The bitter irony of it, is that the main characteristic of that Islamic Empire they pine so much for, in its Golden age, was how confident it was in its own identity, and thus, how open, tolerant and receptive it was towards other cultures.

Only a crisis of confidence in one's identity, produces such a feeling of inferiority, and that of intimidation towards the "west". And this, I believe, has been a major obstacle that kept us stalled at the same spot [if not moving backwards] for nearly 700 years to date. The only real collective attempt to overcome this chronic condition was the Arab renaissance. Unfortunately, it was nipped in the bud.

P.S.: Just to preempt any comments about the subject. Having said that, it doesn't mean I am blind to the role the "west" played in us reaching this low, but since everyone seems to be well on top of their game in pointing the injustice and cruelty inflicted on us [And there has been plenty], I thought maybe "some" self-criticism was in order.

When I started writing, and before it developed into a full blown boring essay, I was only gonna say this:

"النائب العام الإيراني يطالب بحماية الثقافة الإسلامية من دمية الـ"باربي

كس اختها لهي الثقافة, أو الدين, أو القيم, أو... اللي رح تهدمها لعبة باربي. وبس.

Hewar in Kyoto

2008-03-23T22:02:00.002+09:00

Kinan Azmeh and Issam Rafea - Dance

A crazy cycle of Sushi, Sake, Music and Sleep deprivation would be the only way to describe those 3 days spent in Kyoto. Rushing out from one taxi to the other, from one temple to the other, and from one sushi joint to the next. Leaving stuffed up with food, images, and the sound of 3 syrians laughing disturbingly [as we'd find out later] out loud.

This blog is not dead!

2008-03-10T05:00:00.006+09:00

I have been an absentee blogger for the most part during the last couple of months. In no way does that mean I stopped reading what you all have been writing. It's actually more rewarding sometimes, to just read.

I have also been somewhat busy with other projects I'm involved in. Namely, GV Lingua Arabic and CouchSurfing. As well as getting the best out of this holiday from school and believe me, I AM.

Anyways, I'm still in that place where I can't find it in me to write about any of the things I want to write about.

Meanwhile, here's an interview that the wonderful Amira had with me for Global Voices.

A Syrian blogger in Japan? That's no other than our Syria author and Arabic Lingua editor Yazan Badran, who has agreed to sit with us this week for our Blogger of the Week series of interviews with Global Voices Online authors and volunteers.

Who is Yazan Badran and what does he do? What interests him and what annoys him?

“I am a Syrian, and a Human. I grew up in Latakia, which is a little sleepy city on the eastern Mediterranean. In my early years I spent the summers in Beirut, another Mediterranean city, not-so-sleepy, though. Culturally, I am as Levantine as they come.

My parents were veteran Marxists, and my grand parents were highly-respected religious figures, one of the many paradoxes and extremes that gave me interesting insights into very different worlds of thought, something I feel very privileged to have had at such a young age.

Humans interest me in a profound way, and in many ways I find myself on the extreme side of anthropocentrism. Interests? First and far most, travel. Then comes Philosophy, Literature and Photographic arts, Politics and Technology are the areas that fascinate me the most.

Annoyances are a slippery road. I am very easily annoyed [something I'm not too proud of], whether it is someone parking their cart in the middle of a supermarket aisle, or having to watch Fox News covering just about any story,” says the 21-year-old blogger.

What are you studying in Japan and what has it got to do with blogging?

Well, I am a Monbukagakusho Scholar, studying Computer Science at Nagoya Institute of Technology. What has it got to do with blogging? Well, it depends. My studies per se are not quite influential in my blogging; I don't blog about Technology much, but the cultural experience of living in Japan, learning the language, and studying in that (very) foreign language has affected what I blog about, and how I blog.

How long have you been blogging and why? What do you blog about mostly?

I've been blogging since June 2005, which is just a little less than three years. At that day, a car bomb in Beirut had assassinated Samir Qassir, someone that I had much respect for. The event itself, and its context shook me deeply. I felt it was extremely important to voice out the individuals. In an area where we live daily with interconnected conflicts, it becomes easy to forget the humans, the individuals, in favor of the “Causes” that are always “Just” in the eyes of their beholders. I wanted to write about me, simple and clear. I wrote much about politics, religion, society and development, but I was always very careful to remind every reader that it was very personal. When I wrote about politics it was politics that was personal to me. And with the number of national and international media personnel covering these conflicts, each with their own agendas, and each claiming objectivity to himself, it was important to have people who are just that, individuals.

How long have you been with Global Voices Online and why?

I came to Global Voices in February 2006. The next day riots in Damascus torched the Norwegian and Danish embassies in Damascus. That was my first article on Global Voices. It was something very painful to watch, never mind writing about it. But the amount of reaction, and the kind of reaction the Syrian blogsphere took that day was and still one of the reasons I still blog, and in a way one of the reasons I write for Global Voices. I don't want to mention the obvious, Global Voices has been covering many stories that conventional media wouldn't think of covering, and in many ways they seem to be the only ones worth covering. Representing the Syrian blogsphere in such a diverse environment seemed extremely important for two main reasons; One is the amount of encouragement that will give to what was a young, small blogsphere that was to grow ever rapidly since then. The second, is that it represent the “individuals” which is exactly what I went out to do when I started blogging.

In a nutshell, can you describe the Syrian blogoshere? As Syria author, what interests you about the Syrian blogosphere? Who are your favourite bloggers and what do they write about? Are Syrian bloggers a true reflection of Syrian society?

When I first started blogging, back in June 2005, there were only a handful of blogs out there [maybe eight]. Ayman Haykal, was the first blogger I'd read, and his enthusiasm about blogging Syria was enormous that I can safely say he inspired many people to keep blogging at a point when we seemed very lonely.

Now, the picture is very different, the Syrian blogsphere is one that is growing rapidly. And more importantly the amount of quality blogs is increasing. That growth was extremely hindered last year with the government's censorship of all (.blogspot) blogs, but I can safely say that it has started to recover again, with many people returning with ever more enthusiasm, switching to other blogging platforms just to circumvent the blocking.

Is it representative of the Syrian society? I can't really say that. A great number of bloggers are expats [including myself], and those who are inside Syria mostly blog in English. Lately the blogsphere has been expanding horizontally, with many blogs in Arabic or switching to Arabic, which is a good sign, because it helps paint a more sincere picture of Syria.

There are many great bloggers out there, many of them have come to be good friends at one point. I can only mention a few. Ayman Haykal, whom I'd mentioned earlier. Abu Fares is our own rock-star famous blogger, whom I've interviewed for GV before. Omar Faleh, whose posts I personally relate to very much. Razan Ghazzawi, whose conviction, enthusiasm and activism, in real life just as much as on the blogsphere has been a real inspiration for the last year. And many many others - Rime Allaf, The Syrian Brit, Omar Salaymeh, Sasa, Abu Kareem, Wassim.

Describe your work at Arabic Lingua and tell us about your plans and future hopes for the site?

I am the editor for the Arabic Lingua project. I run a wonderful team of volunteer translators, and do translations myself.

Lingua seemed like the natural expansion of GVO. As someone mentioned before, to actually call ourselves Global, we need to speak Globally. So now GV speaks more than 10 languages. Which is, to say the least, amazing. Arabic Lingua is a part of this family. It is important to bring all these wonderful diverse stories from authors all around the world to the reach of Arabic readers. It was important to bridge that gap between Middle Eastern blogs that blogged in Arabic and those that blogged in English. When I translate an article from an Arab country, and all the links are to blogs that blog in English, I am linking them to a whole new audience who otherwise would not read it. And vice-versa.

Arabic Lingua is still a very young project [we were officially launched just before the new year]. So for now we are trying to keep a flow of articles appearing on the site, and sustain that flow to build up a readership. Future plans include more systematic focus on regions other than MENA, as to serve in widening the sphere of interest for Arabic readers. Quality is also something that is very important, to develop methods to determine the quality of a certain translation and how to improve that; something that is very important because all of us are just amateur translators.

When not online, what do you do? What are your hobbies and interests?

I am in love with the outdoors. Coming from the Mediterranean, both the sea and the mountain feels like natural habitat to me. I am happy to spend days on end camping out in the wonderful mountains around here in Japan. Travelling is also a real passion of mine. The simple conversations and everyday encounters while travelling are of my dearest memories. Swimming, walking and playing basketball is how I (try) to keep myself in shape. Music and Reading are as personal as politics to me. And, watching a Stanley Kubrick or Woody Allen movie with a glass of vodka is also known as a personal pastime.

Can you talk to us a bit about being an Arab in Japan? How different are the customs and traditions; people and attitudes; and everyday living from life in Syria?

Japan, is a very interesting experience. But like every other interesting experience, it is a very difficult one. The really difficult part is not being an Arab in Japan, as much as being a Foreigner in Japan. Being a foreigner in Japan is something that's been talked about again and again, so I won't go into that.

How different? As different as it can get. The main fundamental difference would be that Syria is a society with extremely complex ethnic, historic, religious and social backgrounds to every stone and every person. While Japan is an Island that was isolated from the outside world until 200 years ago, so it developed a very distinct culture. That is something that determines many aspects of your daily life. The matter of fact is, Japan is a country that you Need to be a part of in order to live comfortably in. Yet, it is not one that will accept you easily. Everyday here brings a new experience, but what makes it special is that most of these experiences borderline on the Extremes.

Final thoughts?

Thank you for this wonderful opportunity. I am personally very proud to be a member of this GV family, along with an amazing team of volunteer authors and translators. GVO is a wonderful symbol of how the Internet has changed the world, and ourselves, to the better.

Change

2008-02-12T04:09:00.000+09:00

Walking down a street that you've never walked, not knowing where it leads, walking down such a street is intoxicating beyond belief.

I'm wrapping up my second year in Japan. Almost 2 years since April 2006.

And this, aforementioned feeling, is probably the most amazing thing that Japan has given me. Japan, as in, the whole experience.

For Tariq

2008-02-06T16:31:00.000+09:00

It is important, to sound out. Even if very few will hear.

It is important to try, just try, to challenge the hegemony of fear.

For what it's worth, We Support Tariq.

[Tariq, is a fellow blogger, who was arrested for leaving a comment on a public forum, criticizing the Security Apparatus.]

More...
Free Tariq Campaign's Main Website.
Sign the Free Tariq Petition.
Razan's extensive coverage on the subject.

لبنان الجديد, طلع لحم بعجين. كمان مرة!

2008-02-05T02:30:00.000+09:00

رشيد: خمسة شباب لبنانية, خمسة شباب لبنانية عم يتمشو. مثلاً يعني. اي هودي مش خمسة, هودي واحد و واحد و واحد و واحد و واحد. هيك بيطلعو.

الحكيم: اي بيطلعو خمسة.

زياد: ما بيطلعو خمسة.

الحكيم: شو بيطلعو؟

زياد: ما بيطلعو ما مخهن معكوف بيفردو ما بيقدرو يطلعو.
لأنو مثلاً عالعكفة, ما الزلمي بعكفة, هلق عكفة على عكفة حكيم ما بتلقط معك بتزحط, بيصير في ما بيعود في مجال بيطلعو, بيجو ليطلعو بيزحطو. يعني هالعكفة مثلاً, واحد و واحد و واحد بيجو , بس بيضلو, ما بيطلعو.
واحد و واحد و واحد, حد بعض يعني, وووووو, هيك عرفت كيف مثلاً, ما في شي انو شي بيأثر على شي تاني. كل شي, شي. شي شي شي, بهالشكل مثلاً. مثلاً ما في مثلاً, شييي. شو هوي؟ ما في! مظبوط يا خيي؟
عرفت كيف حكيم؟

الحكيم: لا, ما فهمت عليك, ما فهمت عليك رشيد.

رشيد: العمى ليه؟؟

زياد الرحباني - فيلم أميركي طويل.

An Unplanned Friday Night

2008-01-12T12:39:00.001+09:00

I caught the train that runs to downtown Sakae, and like every other friday night, I made my way down to Heaven's Door. The small bar down in the basement of the liveliest district of Nagoya. To the upsetting of my perfectly ordinary friday night, the door said "Closed until next week".

Disappointed, and quite uneasy with the fact that I won't get my dose of intoxication with beer, nicotine, and Bob Dylan, I refuted the idea to call anyone or try any other bars, and made my way home through the big puzzle of little alleys that connects this city.

It was a very picturesque walk. I was already armed with the over coat and the scarf around my neck. The hands in the pockets. The melancholy of Pamuk's Istanbul, and the echoes of the last two hours of Maya's Manifesto. Tom Waits telling me that he's "in love with a jersey girl...". A fair baggage of painful memories, a road that goes ahead and little drops of rain pouring every now and then.

If this was a movie, this would be where all the revelations come pushing through, and driving the hero either to death or discovering his hidden success.
It was all too suited for that. All too suited indeed, that I walked into the first bar that had decent music and effectively anesthetized all these seeds of revelation.

The Alawite Question

2008-01-11T14:24:00.000+09:00

For some reason, I have missed this article when it was first published.

2 years on, the same questions linger on.

It is easy for an idealist like me to call them off, but they are still valid questions for many the Syrians on the streets.

And if you don't think so, just check the comment section, and you'll see how very pressing they still are.

It has been argued, times and times again, that the only possibility for a successful coup d'etat, that can hold social cohesion through a transitional period died with General Ghazi Kanaan, who was groomed for such a move [I say that, not without much irony].

A Visit

2008-01-05T21:57:00.000+09:00

syria is the kind of place where, within minutes of your arrival, you are transported into an old, 35mm, black and white family movie state, where achingly beautiful scenes bring you back to a not-so-far-away past where life was a bit more simple and pleasures were a bit less hard to reach.

Jimmy, has a wonderful recollection of his Syria visit, with a number of breathtaking photos.