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Archive for November 2005

Quoting anonymous on Stupidity

In Opinion, Quoting on November 30, 2005 at 7:13 pm

Yet another time the Box features a quotation on Stupidity, with a capital “S”. My motivator, and the clue behind the semi-repetition, is a comment that went unpublished, which I received today. This comment made me praise the wisdom of my creator, because he made some intelligent and some less sharp. Such a miracle when one reflects on it. Not to mention the many thanks and the growing fondness I am manifesting towards Blogger, and the comments moderation system.

I believe some obstacles exist in one’s life only to push one to give more. I have many a blockage of the sort, some more potent than others. What they serve to do is quite the contrary of what they were designed for. Therefore, allow me to be a bit informal and express my pity for the person who has been trying for around six months now to put me down. What a better way to tantalize than not to dignify a trifle with a proper answer? Let the moth that roams around a lightsource consume itself; watch as it never quenches its lust for a reward.

I had wished to receive constructive critique of a thought expressed in one of the entries. Perhaps even a suggestion for a novice topic or series. I imagined one would send off an intriguing idea, a word of advice, make that what you wish provided it is of use and essence. Any individual with a sense of right and wrong would abhor nonesense, not everyone can avoid delivering it though,that is tricky business. What makes this a passing disease is the presence of many a sensible reader, a thoughtful commentator, or a reflective friend. For those, and for the dim-witted, thanks are due.

Dear readers of Tololy’s Box, I hope for your understanding of the matter. I cannot promise that I will post no more quotations on this particular subject, Stupidity, as long as I receive such nonesense from a weakling. I hope I did not come across as a fuming voice through a blog. I am rather amused at this, it makes me scratch my head and think of better entries for the Box, if only to exhibit triumph over the “blockage”.


Artifical Intelligence is no match for natural stupidity

-Anonymous

Clumsy detected at HSBC

In Opinion on November 30, 2005 at 12:16 am

On Monday November 28th, I head for an HSBC building to conclude a financial affair of mine. The clock was precisely 1:45 p.m., and the weather was too hot to handle in the black leather I was in. Nothing too kinky, think not much of the matter.

As I approached the door, I read a sign that delivered explicit apologies from the management of the bank to their clients. The motives behind such a posting on the portal became clear in a moment. I walked past the first door and then I was stopped by a man in a uniform, whom I took to have the bank’s security as his profession. I did not mind being stopped, I minded something else.

The uniform man then indicated the presence of a uniform woman who was situated close by, he made some gestures with his hands, and probably with his voice, so that I understood that there is something to yet be done before I can go about my business. Again I say, I did not mind that. I realize the importance of security and I am for the freshest safety-related measures in Amman.

I got to the woman, who had a hand held detector, and I smiled at her. She carefully slid the device over my body, with focus elaborated on my waist, and then she asked me to open my big black bag. I opened the bag, expecting her to go through my personals, and possibly intimates, with care and dignity. I was mistaken. The woman literally stripped the inner folds of my bag with her hands, she made a joke about my chocolate, then another concerning the small old navy shoe that I often play with, and I was stunned at this. I smiled at her, because I did not wish to make a scene.

The woman laughed it off and told me she was “kidding” with me. I was so taken aback by the surprise of it all that I said nothing, and smiled on. In general I am not a person who welcomes such impulses of familiarity from absolute strangers, and certainly not from strangers with a hand in the bag and a joke about one’s chocolate.

I admit that now when I look back at the incident, I regret not having been to the office of this woman’s superior. I am not sure whether or not such a step was necessary, do I come too harsh for contemplating the advance?

Random conversation

In Bits & pieces, Opinion on November 29, 2005 at 12:13 am

The subsequent conversation took place a minute ago. X is feverish and Y is sleepy. See if this bit of real life chattering strikes a chord your way.

X: What do you want from life?
Y: Peace of mind.
X: How will you achieve that?
Y: Oh, spiritual tranquility, decent cash, and a lover.

T Play Box VIII

In T Play Box on November 28, 2005 at 5:53 pm

The last T Play Box session ended a month ago, on October 28th. Now that I have had my dose of, well, something, I feel like playing.

One of the things that get to me the most, and just make me tick, is when someone walking ahead of me suddenly brakes. For that reason I would like all pedestrians to install rear lights, and to use them as often as possible. This kind of an “incident” happens so frequently when I am minding my own walking business at the university campus.

Most of the time it is a veiled girl, or a group of them, casually chatting and then they stop. It is also noteworthy that they like to halt their progress near, or at, stairs and/or very narrow routes. Why this happens so often, and in such a seemingly organized fashion, I have no clue. All I know is that it usually ruins my mood because I cannot understand it.

There was this morning some eight months ago when I opened my eyes with such a lovely mood. I promised myself that no matter what happens that day at university, I would not let it taint this perfect state of mind and spirit that I was in. I went to my classes, saw my buddies, had my junk food “food”, and then it happened.

I was walking, a very simple action, you know. I started from point A, and in my mind I was set to reach point B. I opened the transparent doors that so often push me backwards because, you see, I am not exactly a bodybuilder, and I trod on asphalt roads and my clothes got caught in the untrimmed bushes in ceramic pots here and there, and all was a generally pleasant experience.

Then an obstacle named “stairs” came my way and I was determined to overcome it, and there they were. Three, bigger, girls clustered around the mouth of the stairs in such a way that nobody could pass. They were talking, “Did you see how he…?” and I was quite uninterested in their conversation. I wanted to get to point B. I stopped by them for a minute, trying to emit as many mental messages as possible to inform them of my desire to walk by them and cease this forced eavesdropping. My mental station was not functional that morning, or so it seemed.

Body to the rescue! I resorted to my body language and I sort of kept moving in my place to show them that they are preventing me from reaching point B. That came short of success as well. So I figured I should use my tongue, right then and there, and I really dislike using my tongue on strangers. Most often such occasions don’t end nicely, and I could feel a bit bad afterwards.

Then I discovered that if I said something “not nice” to them, I would break the promise I made to myself earlier on in the day. “No matter what”, remember? This was one of the toughest mornings, eight months ago, when I was in a lovely mood. I lashed the girls with my tongue and in my head I hurt them even more, they answered back but hey, that’s life. Keep away from the stairs or risk my wrath.

Bil 3arabi

In Opinion, عربي on November 28, 2005 at 12:29 am

P.S. This is a post that makes use of the �real� daily language of Tololy, being a Jordanian �young lady�. It employs transliteration, which is a method vastly used in online chats, to deliver its message. Jordanians do not speak Arabic, as in standard Arabic. In their daily lives they communicate using Jordanian, a local variant of Arabic.

You will find some English words thrown in, this I do to dress a shade of verisimilitude on the subject. Many Jordanians use English words here and there in their conversations, and of those I am one.
This entry is an experiment with the sole aim of examining the impact of using daily slang in blogging on the seriousness of the Box. That, I declare, should be interesting.

I wonder sho biseer iza I blogged heek. Halla2 ma32oul el seriousness tab3et el Box tet2assar meshanni ma 3am aktob la bil 3arabi el fasee7 wala bil engleezi?Iza bedna nettalla3 3al mawdou3 men linguistic perspective, menla2i ino el essa kteer akbar men Tololy�s Box. El essa heyye ino fi kteer nas 3arab, ma bye7ko 3arabi
wala 7atta engleezi, bye7ko eshe nus nus. Ana barken wa7deh menhom, ma3 ino I try dayman Arakkez 7akyee ya 3arabi ya ingleezi bas kteer sa3eb.

Ma beddi adayye3 mawdou3 el entry, illi howa ino ana bedi ashof iza hay el jargon ra7 tdayye3li el weightiness elli bil Box. O iza 3an djad ra7 t2asser 3al Box, lakan daroori nfakker addish bet2asser 3ala our daily messages lamma ne7ki.

Halla2 transliteration sha�3leh mawjodeh o ma3roufeh, elli heyye ketabet el kelmat b a7rof mo lal lo�3a el asleyyeh tab3et-hom. Bas, I�ve never read a blog maktoob bil hal taree2a, have you? O hada eshe ana bashofo mo healthy, la2ino iza fi fasil been el lo�3a illi mnesta3melha kol youm o el lo�3a illi mnoktob feeha, ma3nato fi eshe mo mazboot.

A very honest poem

In Literature, Opinion on November 27, 2005 at 11:36 am
Wake me up,
When the war
is over.

Untitled

In Bits & pieces on November 27, 2005 at 10:56 am

Two days ago, I managed to talk my father into reading Rooster the rooster. A short story previously published in its designated place here at the Box, and submitted to a Creative Writing professor. Rooster the rooster was read by many people. I read it aloud to my sister when I finished it, we were in the car heading home and I was thrilled that the tale was finished. So thrilled was I, that I could not wait to get home for her to know about it. So I started reading.

I did not use the voice I imagined I would use if I read the story. The narrative voice I used was quite different, and very unexpected. It was pretty casual though, I thought such a step would rob the story of its satire, but it didn’t.

So my father agreed to read the two papers I put in his lap as he watched TV. He asked what the papers were about, and I said “Oh, just read!”. Much to my content, he complied.

I sat on a couch close at hand, and I waited for the comments. My father, you see, has his own architecture of thought. He doesn’t always quite get the jest of what I say or write, and that makes the process all the more pleasant. I sometimes have his temper and when he fails to understand what I mean by something, I normally use this temper if my conduct is not checked.

Not to speak too long of details that contribute nothing to this entry’s core, I will proceed with the logical sequence of events. So there I was, sitting on a couch looking at my father as he put on his glasses and started reading the passages I composed.

Now he smiled, then he laughed. He threw a stylistic remark my way but I talked it away, explaining the reason behind the deliberate glitch. “But that belongs here, because…It’s all deliberate, you know what I’m saying” -”Ahhh. So you meant to say such and such eh? That’s smart” – “Why of course!”.

So went our brief conversation. The way my father reacted to the piece was amazing. It made me see, first hand, what a reader with a completely different line of thought would juice out of it. He smiled, and that was proof enough for me to feel that he was able to relate to it. That is my writer’s ecstasy.

The Box in your inbox

In Bits & pieces on November 26, 2005 at 12:20 am

The Box is offering three ways for its readership to stay in sync with its happenings, Tololy believes in the power of choice and does not like an overdoes of technicalities that all pretend to understand when most really don’t. I have been looking around for some ways to help my readers keep up with Tololy’s Box entries, in a timely fashion, and this is what I have come up with so far.

Should you be an interested reader, and should you wish to be informed when a fresh entry is added to its siblings in Tololy’s Box, all you need to do is feed this link into your RSS reader. For those who do not know what RSS is, and who are not exactly into learning at this point, I say: Do not despair!

Feedblitz makes it happen that once you submit your email address to its service, you will have Tololy’s Box entries sent to your inbox when an update has been made. Just click here, add your email address, and voila! Once you wish to die on the Box, you can un-subscribe in a snap.

There is always the third, and ,if I may say, dominant way to stay updated. Just visit Tololy’s Box when the need moves you.

Italia mia: Now visual

In Italiano on November 25, 2005 at 11:54 am

After receiving a speedy reply from the talented Mr.Luca Postpischl concerning the beautiful pictures I spoke of in my previous entry, now I may include some of them in Tololy’s Box. I shall post one of my favorites now, taken in Venice, S.Marco Square. I urge all interested readers to visit panoramic pictures of Italy, perhaps this would spur Mr.Postpischl to take some more visual extraordinaries.


“Panoramic pictures of Italy” courtesy of Luca Postpischl

Grazie Luca e buon lavoro!

Italia mia

In Bits & pieces on November 25, 2005 at 9:29 am

This entry comes your way in English, and not in Italian, because the target audience will probably be made up of English language readers.

I stumbled upon a fantastic site of panoramic pictures of Italy, and seeing as I have not been to Italy, in the concrete sense of the statement, I just loved it.
This site offers 360-degree picture, as well as 360-degree e-cards, for various Italian cities, such as Rome, Florence, Venice, Bologna, Siena, Pisa and Verona.

The quality of the pictures is impressive, and I appreciate 360-degree photography quite a lot. Once you’re at the main page of the site, all you need do is click a city name by “Explore the panoramic galleries” and your browser will handle the rest. If you like slide shows and Italian scenes, then this site is for you, go on, don’t be shy.

Unveiling Metablog

In Metablog on November 24, 2005 at 11:43 pm

The Online Etymology Dictionary defines Meta as a prefix meaning 1. “after, behind,” 2. “changed, altered,” 3. “higher, beyond,” from Gk. meta (prep.) “in the midst of, among, with, after,” from PIE *me- “in the middle” (cf. Goth. miþ, O.E. mið “with, together with, among,” see mid). Notion of “changing places with” probably led to senses “change of place, order, or nature,” which was the principal meaning of the Gk. word when used as a prefix. Third sense, “higher, beyond,” is due to misinterpretation of metaphysics (q.v.) as “transcending physical science.”

The definition above need not interest you in its essence. It is alluded to in this introductory entry to make clear what is meant by Metablog, yet another series to be featured in Tololy’s Box. It has become a habit of mine to found a nexus of entries, as you might have observed.

What interests me in the etymology of meta, and what is in verity the meaning I will be using in Metablog, is that which states that Meta is a prefix meaning “after or behind”. To dilate matters a bit more, and depending on my own understanding of the prefix in terms such as, say, meta-theatre or meta-linguistics, the prefix is used to indicate a species of knowledge that discusses its own principles and theories.

As for blog, that word still has not found a proper meaning that convinces me, because the variations are so wide and amazingly hypnotic. This word I leave undefined, and you may outline it as you please. Now Metablog will, as I would like to design it to be, handle issues related to blogging in general, and not the Box in particular. I may start from the Box, but the scope is always larger and the outcome could be applied to a number of blogs, hence the naming of the nexus Metablog. Tololy’s Box, in its Metablog chain, is a sort of a blog that talks about blogs, now Meta is almost certainly clearer to you.

A tale rarely told: The purest Aryans

In Opinion on November 24, 2005 at 10:42 am

Notwithstanding my admiration for the Circassian culture and traditions, I am not blind to many of the flaws that distort the beauty of this civilization. Some may have harbored the illusion that I am in favor of anything Adiga, or perhaps that I aim to portray a polished image of the people because they are my kinsfolk, the people who thought as such would readily see the mistake they have made.

Having grown in a multi-cultural community, and having known a decent number of Adiga individuals, I have been faced with an ugly face of reality; racism. I am not about to pass a generic judgment over an entire race that contributed to my existence, but I speak from personal experience when I state that some Adiga individuals are racist. This may come as a stun to you, but if I were fond of using the word victim I would probably attribute it to myself and add “of racism”. I am not for victimizing myself, however, and thus the usage of the term does not appeal to me.

I would like to shed some light as to why some Circassians are racist. To start with a bit of a logical observation, if unattended with scientific evidence as yet, I think it is because Circassians were persecuted out of their native lands into a fresh environment in which they were, and still are, a minority. This sort of history put in mind could help observers understand the circumstances, always rejected but subject to study, behind racism.

This sentiment of a whole nation of being “small” in a yet larger society would make this community a somewhat closed one. Fear of losing heritage or letting language and customs slip by could also contribute to a sentiment of loss thrust upon this mind of the people, to which the people may react in a debatable fashion by imagining that they are better, and definitely better off without merging with their hosting community.

Looking different, I am sure, also helped form this belief that some have of being superior to their Arab neighbours. Circassians have a distinctive appearance that is mostly easy to recognize from that of Arabs. Another interesting bit of the “why” behind this racism, as I have come to learn, traces its roots to geography. Circassians used to live in a most beautiful environment of greenery, snow-topped mountains and abundance of water, and were transferred to a completely different atmosphere. Amman, the capital of Jordan, was when the Circassians came but a humble village with very little water and marginal greenery compared to that of the Caucasus.

One of the most disturbing, but altogether amusing, stories told about the Caucasus, the homeland of Circassians, is that which has it that when god created mankind he divided earth between the different races. He left the final piece of land, the Caucasus, for himself. But when he saw that the Circassians were left with no piece of land, he gave them his share. This is a story thrown back and forth on some Adiga tongues, and it ascertains their so-called “superiority”.

There is another fable about Hitler visiting the Caucasus and hailing the Circassian people as the “purest Aryans”. Some youth actually find pride in telling this story, and they draw the swastika to express their outward support for what could be called neo-nazi influences. I have no record of the authenticity of either one of these tales, I narrate them here because I have seen a number of Circassian youth recite them and make them their bible, from which they derive authority to regard others as inferior beings.

I bore witness to a number of incidents where I tasted the bitter flavour of racism practiced by some Adiga people, despite the fact that the blood that runs through my veins is in fact, if I want to divide it into two quantities, half Adiga. I do not wish to recount the details of the situations I found myself in because they do not add to the soul of this entry, but I do want to state that racism is blind. It is inexcusable, that we pretend to know, but I find it utterly blind.

I do not think the people who believe in racism fully realize what they are in favor of; I frankly think they are misguided. This is why I refuse to retaliate and be regarded as an extra misguided person, I would like to believe I know better than to pull a tooth for my own, or turn the other cheek.

A last appeal is due to all my Adiga relatives and readers, I did not post this entry to attack a culture I find most rich. I would like people to understand that this post springs forth from personal experience, and does not go so far as to condemn a whole people for the actions of some. Most Adiga people that I know have the warmest hearts and a unique heritage to share with the world, this is precisely why marginal defects present within a small group of individuals should be mended lest they harm the bigger, and more tolerant, image of the rest.

If by Rudyard Kipling

In Literature on November 23, 2005 at 10:09 am
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

No Arabic? No problem!

In Bits & pieces on November 22, 2005 at 11:28 am

Should you be unable to read Arabic, and thefeore unable to satisfy your curioisity with regards to the short story in the following entry, kindly email me with a request for a translation as I am working on one presently. I trust there is a good number of automated translators online but, if this be your desire, I will gladly provide a translation of the text; the working of my own mind and language.

Arabic Entry: النمور في اليوم العاشر

In عربي on November 22, 2005 at 9:30 am
رحلت الغابات بعيداً عن النمر السجين في قفص، ولكنه لم يستطع نسيانها، وحدّق غاضباً إلى رجال يتحلّقون حول قفصه وأعينهم تتأمله بفضول ودونما خوف، وكان أحدهم يتكلم بصوت هاديء ذي نبرة آمرة: ’إذا أردتم حقاً أن تتعلموا مهنتي، مهنة الترويض، عليكم ألا تنسوا في أي لحظة أن معدة خصمكم هدفكم الأول، وسترون أنها مهنة صعبة وسهلة في آن واحد. انظروا الآن إلى هذا النمر. إنه نمر شرس متعجرف، شديد الفخر بحريته وقوته وبطشه، ولكنه سيتغير، ويصبح وديعاً ولطيفاً ومطيعاً كطفل صغير، فراقبوا ما سيجري بين من يملك الطعام وبين من لا يملكه، وتعلموا‘.فبادر الرجال إلى القول أنهم سيكونون التلاميذ المخلصين لمهنة الترويض، فابتسم المروض مبتهجاً، ثم خاطب النمر متسائلاً بلهجة ساخرة: ’كيف حال ضيفنا العزيز؟‘.

قال النمر: ’احضر لي ما آكله فقد حان وقت طعامي‘.

فقال المروض بدهشة مصطنعة: ’أتأمرني وأنت سجيني؟ يا لك من نمر مضحك! عليك أن تدرك أني الوحيد الذي يحق له هنا إصدار الأوامر‘.

قال النمر: ’لا أحد يأمر النمور‘.

قال المروض: ’ولكنك الآن لست نمراً. أنت في الغابات نمر، أما وقد صرت في القفص فأنت الآن مجرد عبد تمتثل للأوامر وتفعل ما أشاء‘.

قال النمر بنزق: ’لن أكون عبداً لأحد‘.

قال المروض: ’أنت مرغم على إطاعتي لأني أنا الذي أملك الطعام‘.

قال النمر: ’لا أريد طعامك‘.

قال المروض: ’إذن جع كما تشاء، فلن أرغمك على فعل ما لا ترغب فيه‘.وأضاف مخاطباً تلاميذه: ’سترون كيف سيتبدل فالرأس المرفوع لا يُشبع معدة جائعة‘.

وجاع النمر، وتذكر بأسى أيام كان ينطلق كريح دون قيود مطارداً فرائسه.وفي اليوم الثاني، أحاط المروض وتلاميذه بقفص النمر، وقال المروض: ’ألست جائعاً؟ أنت بالتأكيد جائع جوعاً يعذب ويؤلم. قل أنك جائع فتحصل على ما تبغي من اللحم‘.ظل النمر ساكتاً، فقال المروض له: ’افعل ما أقول ولا تكن أحمقاً. اعترف بأنك جائع فتشبع فوراً‘.

قال النمر: ’أنا جائع‘.فضحك المروض وقال لتلاميذه: ’ها هو ذا قد سقط في فخ لن ينجو منه‘. وأصدر أوامره، فظفر النمر بلحم كثير.وفي اليوم الثالث، قال المروض للنمر: ’إذا أردت اليوم أن تنال طعاماً، نفذ ما سأطلب منك‘.قال النمر: ’لن أطيعك‘.قال المروض: ’لا تكن متسرعاً فطلبي بسيط جداً. أنت الآن تحوص في قفصك، وحين أقول لك: قف، فعليك أن تقف‘.قال النمر لنفسه: ’إنه فعلاً طلب تافه ولا يستحق أن أكون عنيداً وأجوع‘.وصاح المروض بلهجة قاسية آمرة: ’قف‘.فتجمد النمر تواً، وقال المروض بصوت مرح: ’أحسنت‘.

فسرّ النمر، وأكل بنهم بينما كان المروض يقول لتلاميذه: ’سيصبح بعد أيام نمراً من ورق‘.وفي اليوم الرابع، قال النمر للمروض: ’أنا جائع فاطلب مني أن أقف‘.فقال المروض لتلاميذه: ’ها هو قد بدأ يحب أوامري‘.ثم تابع موجهاً كلامه إلى النمر: ’لن تأكل اليوم إلا إذا قلّدت مواء القطط‘.فكظم النمر غيظه، وقال لنفسه: ’سأتسلى إذا قلدت مواء القطط‘.وقلّد مواء القطط فعبس المروض، وقال باستنكار: ’تقليدك فاشل. هل تعد الزمجرة مواء‘.فقلّد النمر ثانية مواء القطط، ولكن المروض ظل متجهم الوجه، وقال بازدراء: ’اسكت اسكت. تقليدك مازال فاشلاً. سأتركك اليوم تتدرب على مواء القطط، وغداً سأمتحنك. فإذا نجحت أكلت، أما إذا لم تنجح فلن تأكل‘.

وابتعد المروض عن قفص النمر وهو يمشي بخطى متباطئة، وتبعه تلاميذه وهم يتهامسون متضاحكين. ونادى النمر الغابات بضراعة، ولكنها كانت نائية.وفي اليوم الخامس، قال المروض للنمر: ’هيا، إذا قلدت مواء القطط بنجاح نلت قطعة كبيرة من اللحم الطازج‘.قلّد النمر مواء القطط، فصفق المروض، وقال بغبطة: ’عظيم أنت.. تموء كقط في شباط‘. ورمى إليه بقطعة كبيرة من اللحم.وفي اليوم السادس، ما أن اقترب المروض من النمر حتى سارع النمر إلى تقليد مواء القطط. ولكن المروض ظل مقطب الجبين، فقال النمر: ’ها أنا قد قلّدت مواء القطط‘.قال المروض: ’قلّد نهيق الحمار‘.قال النمر باستياء: ’أنا النمر الذي تخشاه حيوانات الغابات، أقلّد الحمار؟ سأموت ولن أنفّذ طلبك‘.فابتعد المروض عن قفص النمر دون أن يتفوّه بكلمة.

وفي اليوم السابع، أقبل المروض نحو قفص النمر باسم الوجه وديعاً، وقال للنمر: ’ألا تريد أن تأكل؟‘.قال النمر: ’أريد أن آكل‘.قال المروض: ’اللحم الذي ستأكله له ثمن، انهق كالحمار تحصل على الطعام‘.فحاول النمر أن يتذكر الغابات، فأخفق، واندفع ينهق مغمض العينين، فقال المروض: ’نهيقك ليس ناجحاً، ولكنني سأعطيك قطعة من اللحم إشفاقاً عليك‘

.وفي اليوم الثامن، قال المروض للنمر: ’سألقي مطلع خطبة، وحين سأنتهي صفق إعجاباً‘.قال النمر: ’سأصفق‘.فابتدأ المروض إلقاء خطبته، فقال: ’أيها المواطنون.. سبق لنا في مناسبات عديدة أن وضحنا موقفنا من كل القضايا المصيرية، وهذا الموقف الحازم الصريح لن يتبدّل مهما تآمرت القوى المعادية، وبالإيمان سننتصر‘.قال النمر: ’لم أفهم ما قلت‘.قال المروض: ’عليك أن تُعجب بكل ما أقول وأن تصفق إعجاباً به‘.قال النمر: ’سامحني، أنا جاهل أمّي، وكلامك رائع وسأصفق كما تبغي‘.وصفق النمر، فقال المروض: ’أنا لا أحب النفاق والمنافقين، ستحرم اليوم من الطعام عقاباً لك‘.

وفي اليوم التاسع، جاء المروض حاملاً حزمة من الحشائش وألقى بها للنمر وقال: ’كلْ‘.قال النمر: ’ما هذا؟ أنا من آكلي اللحوم‘.قال المروض: ’منذ اليوم لن تأكل سوى الحشائش‘.ولما اشتدّ جوع النمر، حاول أن يأكل الحشائش، فصدمه طعمها، وابتعد عنها مشمئزاً، ولكنه عاد إليها ثانية، وابتدأ يستسيغ طعمها رويداً رويداً.وفي اليوم العاشر، اختفى المروض وتلاميذه والنمر والقفص، فصار النمر مواطناً، والقفص مدينة.

قصة زكريا تامر.

Personal Entry: Why am I in high heels?

In Opinion, Personal on November 21, 2005 at 12:49 pm

This whole setting that I am in seems to contribute well to the propaganda that I am a real employee at a real establishment, working in real time and being read by real people. Reality is, as you might’ve guessed, a problematic issue to my perception, as I prophesy it is for many others.

I normally go about my daily business in tennis shoes or toe-exposing slippers, those foot necessities-turned-embellishments I enjoy having and using to the max. Then came the genesis of my professional misery: No tennis shoes or jeans at the office, so said the Big Boss.

A fellow employee protested, as did I but did not voice it, and the Big Boss was pretty gentle about it. I honestly expected a Hitler-like decree of the obey-me-or-die sort but I was (un)fortunately disappointed. The man simply said that this has been the establishment’s policy for years now and the people upstairs want their employees to look “professional” and “tidy”, or something to that like. I respect that and I truly respected the way the man above squished a humble employee’s would-be revolution.

I have been giving this matter too much thought but it really gets to me. I do not see how the quality of my work is affected by the sort of textile I put on my skin and what shoes host my feet. If I were to be serious about this and yet retain what sense of sarcasm I could have I would ask: Do I think with my shoes? Do high heels mean that I am more professional? Or, say, do jeans mean I am not?

It is rather illogical, in my assessment; to be caged within what common rules of acceptable “professional” dress are when there is no calling for the business at all. To take myself as a model; it is not my job to meet clients, be they potential or existent, and I do not leave this cubicle until the clock announces my departure hour, much to my heart’s content. I deal with words, and not people. This being the case, why should I not wear my comfortable casuals that could in fact make my life much easier and, marvel of all business marvels, boost my productivity?

Rooster the rooster

In Literature on November 20, 2005 at 10:58 am

Today’s celebrations should carry a special flavour, hence I shall post a short story that I wrote for my Creative Writing class in some five minutes. The comical yet sardonic bit about this brief tale is that I did not want it to develop into this shape at all. I commenced my writing session, against my will, and I devised a semi-plot and thought I would see it consummate.

Short-lived were my expectations. I soon forgot what the plot was and about five ideas crowded my head simultaneously. I was frustrated and wishy-washy about which to so proudly pick and claim my own and which to discard.

An eerie feeling of how twisted the whole situation is took over me and I convlused and scratched my head in the process. Then I adjusted my protection glasses that make me look like the nerd that I probably am, and I resolved to let the “ideas” flow with no plot prepared.

Well what do you know! I had my story readily. One last thing remains to be said about the satire at the end of the tale, a word of advice, that is, if you feel the presence of subliminal messages, do not scold yourself. Sometimes those happen, sometimes they don’t. In either case you could be mistaken and self-abasement is usually called for in more crucial issues. Save that for later.

The tale behind my becoming the leading rooster of the chicks and chickens is one not too long to narrate. I was told that when my chicken mother laid me as an egg, alongside my sibling eggs, that I was a bit distinct in color. My egg was more on the yellowish side and its shell was harder.

She settled on us, my chicken mother, until the eggs hatched. The other eggs all opened up with a weak picking from the soft beaks of the other baby birds. Mine was not so easy to unlock, I picked at it endlessly to no avail. My chicken mother gave up on me and altered her attention to the caring of her other babies. So much for motherly love, in retrospect I say. I eventually grew weary after that trial and I heard my beak creaking so I decided to try one last time. Lo and behold! It worked.

Once out, my chicken mother cared for me on equal foot with her more fortunate chicks. I was a weak male chick, really; playing with my peers, picking here and there for seeds and what not but never volunteering for a fight or anything of the sort. My friends came to call me “Rooster” as means of teasing me about my helplessness. I did not even mind that.

There was an ugly old rooster in charge of us, group of chickens. He was known under the name of “Spike”. My chicken mother often told of his unlimited strength and adventures. She even fabricated stories of him defying the farmer and preventing him from taking eggs and such. Those were lies, now I know that for a fact. But at the time when we were entertained and petrified by them they seemed utter reality.

I was playing casually one day with my chicken friends when Spike came up to me and lashed me with his tongue. He spoke ill of my mother and I was enraged by his behavior. I picked a stone and threw it at his arrogant head and the old fellow crumbled to the ground, his limbs shook and twitched. His crown got smeared with dirt and eventually his limbs twitched no more.

My friends and I stood awestruck for a long time. It was a painful pause during which I did not have the slightest clue what to do. Then all of a sudden my friends started laughing in a down right repulsive manner, they dragged me off to the chicken shed where we lived and there they proceeded to telling everyone what I, in a moment of fury, had done.

To my great surprise the chickens did not seem to mind Spike’s death. Ceremonies took place and I was crowned the leading rooster of the company. They still call me Rooster, it’s severely odd when you think of it. I am an ineffectual chick by my own admission and yet they applaud me as a superior rooster. Who ever said that governing the company requires preparation was doubtlessly mistaken.

Cha Cha Cha

In Bits & pieces on November 20, 2005 at 12:37 am

An unfinished short story project of mine reads:

I sit to my usual desk, mouse in hand and a monitor emitting harmful radiation in front of me. I start the ritual with an invocation to all the juices of creativity possibly existing within my frame: “ Oh holy imagination ooze! Come to your suppliant and answer her demand, once more!”

I wait for a minute or two, anticipating a future rush of adrenaline and proposals; I slide to the edge of my yellow chair as a result of this state of acceleration. Nothing happens. “That’s odd”, I think to myself, and I wait some more.

This is the 100th Tololy’s Box entry. I am glad that the Box is growing, and helping me grow with it. This may stun you as a surprise but I am thankful for the presence of my readership, without whom I could’ve lost interest and ceased to “blog”, what ever that means. Cut the tech talk, I can’t do math.

The media is not the enemy

In Bits & pieces on November 19, 2005 at 11:14 pm

I am all the more thrilled now that I see a fellow Jordanian female blogger, Lulu, getting zealous about a major issue that has been much debated in Tololy’s Box.

The Box featured two entries related to the topic of media and the public Jordanian opinion, with regards to the seemingly increasing number of incidents involving what could be coined as hate speech against Iraqis, or even in some cases the infliction of physical damage on Iraqi people and property within the Jordanian borders.

Lulu, was true to her words. She said in a comment posted November 15, in response to The Russians love their children too, a post discussing the role of Jordanian media in promoting violence, that she will “search for a way to contact Jordanian radio and TV stations” and voice her opinion on this. She has indeed come up with a number of emails that can be used to send off messages to some radio stations and the official Jordan TV station. You can click here to read Lulu’s post.

Should you feel inclined to send a message, kindly be gentle and focused. The media is not the enemy, if one can work it right. I would suggest using formal language and sticking to the topic in question. If the much-cited message is not yet clear to some readers, they ought to contact me or Lulu for more information.

Share a myth IV

In Mythology on November 19, 2005 at 8:13 am

After a long repose, one that was longer than my expectations had designed it to be, Share a myth series return. Again from Arthur Cotterell as General Editor, I take the subsequent myth from World Mythology, a Parragon Publishing Book, 2005 edition.

Chapter 15, “Africa” introduces an absorbing article titled “The Cosmic Egg”. I enjoyed reading this bit and I feel I should share it with my readership. What I found captivating is the fact that this particular myth affirms the existence of a single creator for the world, and the existence of a spider before man. Other aspects I found lovely are found at the end of the myth, and are related to the process of creating earth.

The Cosmic Egg

Mebege (Fang, Pahouin/ Congo Afrian Republic, Congo, Gabon) was lonely. He pulled some hair from under his right arm, took substance from his brain and lifted a pebble from the sea. He blew on these three elements and they formed an egg.

Mebege gave the egg to Dibobia, a spider who hung between the sky and the sea. When the egg became hot, Mebege descended and put his sperm on it. The egg cracked and three people emerged. Mebege took a strand of raffia and worked it into a cross, establishing the four directions.

He took hair from under his arms, and the lining of his brain, rolled these into a ball, blew on them and created termites and worms. These dispersed in all directions and with their droppings they built up the earth upon which the three humans stepped.

Bitter sweet Box mania

In Bits & pieces on November 18, 2005 at 9:28 am

According to Wikipedia Boxes are highly variable receptacles. When no shape is described, a typical cuboid box may be expected. Nevertheless, a box may have a horizontal cross-section that is square, elongated, round or oval; sloped or domed top surfaces, or non-vertical sides. A box normally may be opened by raising, sliding or removing the lid, which may be hinged and/or fastened by a catch, hasp, or lock. Whatever its shape or purpose or the material of which it is fashioned, it is the direct descendant of the chest, one of the most ancient articles of domestic furniture. Its uses are innumerable, and the name, preceded by a qualifying adjective, has been given to many objects of artistic or antiquarian interest.

I googled the word “Box” the other day in an attempt to explore boxes other than mine. I came up with an impressive number of boxes. I can’t say I liked them all, naturally, but some were appealing. Today I will feature a link to the Photo Box, which presents some of the most dazzling pictures I have ever seen.

You ought to see for yourself to feel the beauty. I highly recommend a visit to the Photo Box.

The Seven Meme

In Personal on November 17, 2005 at 6:25 pm
I wish to thank Mira for bringing this meme to my attention. I was tagged by her November 7th, but events prevented me from carrying on the meme tradition.

You can play this meme,too, just cut and paste it in your blog and answer away. Readers who do not have blogs can play via the comments page, it’s one big crazy party in Tololy’s Box today. Fun will spare none.

Seven things I plan to do:

1- Graduate
2- Get a laptop
3- Get a better,faster internet connection
4- Read the books I bought this month
5- Get more piercings
6- Get a car
7- Publish a book

Seven things I can do:

1- See
2- Hear
3- Speak
4- Write
5- Feel
6- Touch
7- Appreciate life

Seven things I can’t do:

1- Supress my opinions
2- Learn to love butterflies
3- Save
4- Stop buying bags, accessories, shoes, and books
5- Hurt an animal
6- Survive without food or water
7- Talk French or Chinese, yet

Seven things I say most often:

This is a tricky one, but I will not progress into any conspiracy theories now. I say so many things, and in so many ways that I cannot answer this question properly without missing a decent number of expressions.

1- Seriously?
2- ????? (That’s “thank you” in Arabic, it reads Shokran)
3- Go away
4- ????? ? ???? ( That’s a Jordanian greeting, it reads “Ahleen Wallah”)
5- Not really
6- I would if I could but I can’t
7- ???? (That’s literally “my eye” in Arabic, it reads “Ainy”, it is used to show that someone is dear to the speaker’s heart,etc )

Quoting Bernard Shaw on time

In Quoting on November 17, 2005 at 7:52 am

Everything happens to everybody sooner or later if there is time enough.

- George Bernard Shaw

Ask Tololy a question

In Bits & pieces on November 16, 2005 at 7:32 am

I woke up this morning with no muse by my side, or with one that I failed to take notice of. The reasons behind my mind being a semi-blank are not why I am writing, however.

I came across an entertaining page as I took my usual blog/web round and I figured: “Why don’t I start a similar trend at Tololy’s Box?”. I didn’t really wait to answer that question and therefore I now have an idea to post about.

If you could ask me a question, what would it be? I do not guarantee that I will supply any of the readers with answers, but the process itself seems pretty playful. I think I would like to know what are the things that make my readers curious about me, what wonderings roam their heads as they read my words.

The Russians love their children too

In Jordan, Opinion on November 15, 2005 at 9:46 am

What I brought to the attention of those who read Tololy’s Box, in my previous entry, is happening. At 8.45 a.m. Amman time, Monday November 14th, I tuned in to a local radio station under the name of Fann FM. Understand that what I am about to post about is by no means an attempt to attack this radio station.

There was this radio show hosted by a man named Mohammad Al Wakeel, who happens to be a well-known media figure in Jordan, and Mr. Al Wakeel was accepting live calls from people, to be aired directly on the show.

I cannot say I know what the show was about, but I managed to bring myself to listen to what is thrown back and forth in conversation between Mr. Al Wakeel and his audience and I was alarmed, if not disgusted, by what I grasped.

I will tell you briefly the content of one of the calls which were broadcasted throughout the country. A man congratulated the security forces and the Jordanian government and people for the capturing of the fourth criminal mind, the woman who attempted to blow herself up in hotel Radisson SAS. Mr. Al Wakeel then proceeded to send out a special salute to Jordan and its people. Then he asked the man what, if he could get his hands on that woman, would he do to her.

At that point I knew that the content of the message that is being heard by a large number of people, divulged by “Jordan’s number one radio station”, as Fann FM like to call themselves, is not healthy, to say the least.

The caller then mentioned that he works at some power generating plant, and he even went so far as to saying that if only he got his hands on that woman, he would electrocute her to death.

To stick to basics, that was pretty gory for a morning show, let alone the damage such messages emit into the minds of those who hear them and are willing to actually implement them.

To go a bit deeper, what ever happened to human rights? By that I not only mean the rights of that woman as a detainee, but also the rights of those who were listening to that show and were, similarly to me, nauseated by that horrible message.

I do not think that by inventing new methods of torture to be used on that woman, one proves to be more patriotic than others. Indeed, how does one allow one’s self to be in charge of other people’s lives, if one in the first place dismissed that notion practiced by them that one wants to hurt?

On a final note, I rememberd a song by Sting when I reflected upon this problem. Here are the lyrics to the song “Russians” , read them, and see if you can relate.

In Europe and America
There’s a growing feeling of hysteria
Conditioned to respond to all the threats
In the rhetorical speeches of the Soviets

Mr. Krushchev said we will bury you
I don’t subscribe to this point of view
It would be such an ignorant thing to do
If the Russians love their children too

How can I save my little boy
From Oppenheimer’s deadly toy
There is no monopoly of common sense
On either side of the political fence

We share the same biology
Regardless of ideology
Believe me when I say to you
I hope the Russians love their children too

There is no historical precedent
To put words in the mouth of the President
There’s no such thing as a winnable war
It’s a lie we don’t believe anymore

Mr. Reagan says we will protect you
I don’t subscribe to this point of view
Believe me when I say to you
I hope the Russians love their children too

We share the same biology
Regardless of ideology
What might save us, me and you
Is if the Russians love their children too

Another war on Iraq?

In Jordan, Opinion on November 14, 2005 at 7:34 am

When emotions run high, it is easy to find fertile soil for havoc, perhaps even racism. After the news made it public that an Iraqi woman, who was supposed to detonate her charge,self and those around her, was arrested in Jordan, I fear that disorder could prevail.

This woman is said to be the wife of one of the men who carried out the criminal attacks against three hotels in Amman, The Radisson SAS, The Grand Hyatt Amman, and Days Inn. The news have it that she accompanied her husband into the Radisson SAS, with the intention of blowing herself up with him to complete their mission. Her charge somehow failed to ignite and she left the building, in her own words in an interview on Jordan TV, after her husband exploded the place. She said she ran out with the party people who survived the attack.

I have a feeling that a good number of country-loving Jordanians would now find it appropriate to bash Iraqis wherever they may be. I heard a rumor today that indeed an Iraqi youngster was hit by Jordanians near Starbucks in Abdoun, Amman. Whether or not this bit of data is accurate is beyond the point of this entry. Be it false, I can still imagine a fairly good possibility that such a thing might happen.

Needless to say, everyone is enraged and all are doing what they can to help protect this country from any future misfortunes. Yet that should not give some the license to violate the renowned and sanctified Islamic,Arab and Jordanian codes of hospitality by hurting random Iraqis in Jordan.

If one condemns what others do, then shouldn’t one refrain from behaving in a way that lines one up with those one carps? Yet the problem rests with the overflow of emotions, I believe. I would advise all not to pass collective rulings over Iraqis, and I am definitely against harming innocent people as targeted terrorists, for no fault of their own but the existence of some who smear their country’s name with executing such violent acts.

Voci italiane: Ma veramente una questione di religione?

In Italiano on November 13, 2005 at 1:32 am

Dopo la tragedia che è accaduta nella mia amata città Amman, tanti blogger italiani hanno lasciato commenti parlando della relazione della religione d’Islam e il terrorismo. Adesso vorrei citare alcuni di questi commenti, e ringrazio tutti per la loro gentile attitudine che indica le loro grandi personalità.Credo che ci doverbbero essere più persone che vogliono sapere la verità e non soltanto guidicare le cose superficialmente.

Cristian ha detto: Mi dispiace molto per le persone che sono morte o che sono rimaste ferite.Nessuno di noi in nessuna parte del mondo e’ piu’ al sicuro.Non credo che l’Islam sia la causa del terrorismo.La religione e’ sempre stata usata come scusa o come arma per nascondere progetti politici o economici.Non ho capito perche’ hanno attaccato il vostro paese.Non conosco molto bene la situazione in Giordania.Fammi avere tue notizie.A presto.

E Stefano dice: Ciao Tololy..mi dispiace molto per quello che è successo nella tua città.
ti assicuro che non sono tra le persone prevenute verso l’islam e non lo associo al terrorismo.

Mentre Sara dice: è assurdo cmq come il terrorismo stia distruggendo l’islam facendogli rivoltare contro anke l’opinione pubblica… spero ke la gente riesca a cogliere il filo quasi invisibile, ma decisamente netto ke divide le 2 cose..

Funeral Blues

In Bits & pieces on November 12, 2005 at 8:16 am

I post the following poem quite simply because Tololy’s Box should get back in sync with its regular rhythm. Those poetic verses send a chill down my spine every time I read them, for I know fully what they mean. I hope you enjoy the read.

Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever; I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood,
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

W.H.Auden

More questions in reply

In Opinion on November 11, 2005 at 8:02 am

I received the following comment on my entry Bombings in Amman: The aftermath of the tragedy and I felt obliged to reply to it, in my constant quest for knowledge.

“Islamic fundamentalsim is a problem inherent in Islam. We can’t simply say that Islam is a violent blood thristy religion but what we can say is that there Islam is crisis. Fundamentalism is not the pretence of one or two people. It is a huge movement, a school of thought that is gaining momentum fast within the Arab and Islamic world.

Even in Jordan, prior to today 60% of Jordanians were happy about Al-Qaeda. and a further 10& did not feel that attacks attributed to Al-Qaeda were morally wrong (I read this article on the BBC a while ago but i dont havethe link you can look it up).

I mean our society has definitely shifted towards religiosity since the 60s and the 70s. As an avowed atheist I see this as a problem inherent on all religions. that is the danger of religion to motivate people towards unthinkable acts in the name of faith. Personally I find the fact people
still buy into the mass delusion that is religion today to mind boggling. But I’m not going to attack religious people here.

What I want to say is that Islam needs a reformation similar to the Christian reformationWhat we need are better Islamic scholars. Where are the Ibn KHaldun’s, Al ghazali’s, and Averroes of the modern day?The sad truth is if you go down to the University of Jordan and look up admission records for the Islamic studies department you will find that the religion department (which churns out future Imams and islamic scholars) accepts the lowest of the low of the applicant pool. And this is true of Universities all across arab world (with exceptions such as Al-Azhar in Cairo but that has also let its standards slip).

Our Imams are the dumbest people in our society according to their high school leaving (tawjihi)tests. We are leaving our spiritual well being to a group of semi retarded idiots. I wouldn’t trust
someone who got a 55% on the tawjihi with deciphering my TV remote let alone my spiritual well ebing. Personally I didn’t do Tawjihi I did the International Baccalaureate instead so I don’t know what the Tawjihi is but if the best and brightest with 90% are going into Engineering that I’m assuming that a lare number of people do well and 55% is not a respectable grade.

So I say reform Islam or obliterate Religion, purge it from our midst (I personally would prefer the latter but thats just me.On a personal note watching what’s happening on CNN from the comfort of my apartment in college is absolutely surreal.”

-Khaled Talhouni

Dear Sir,
I thank you for an informative, although controversial, piece. Anonymous to me as you are, you comment has reached me and has been read by a good number of members of my readership, notwithstanding the fact that you entertain a line of (dis)belief different from mine and that of others, and that I have never met or talked to you face-à-face.

Trust that I do not wish to preach you into Islam, indeed I do not have that goal set before me and I personally, and quite bluntly, could not care less if a person commenting on my entries worshipped his or her pinkie. This here is an open forum and variations in religion and thought are always welcome to help broaden my, and my readers’, horizons.

You started your comment stating: “Islamic fundamentalsim is a problem inherent in Islam”. I could agree on that, only I have one problem blocking the way of that consent. I am ignorant to what you mean by “Islamic Fundamentalism”, and I confess my ignorance. Kindly post a comment clarifying what that term means, where and when it originated, by whom it was coined and after what incidents or in answer to what reasons. I cannot possibly accept less than a crystal clear, and documented, answer, since there seem to be in circulation a number of ambiguous terms.

To put a nasty hat on, I must also ask you to explain what you meant when you, so strongly and without doubt, mentioned that this same so-called “Islamic Fundamentalism” is “inherent” in Islam. Kindly provide examples of incidents where this “phenomenon”, if I may call it so, was rife and make them documented.
Moving on to you next point about the percentage of Jordanians who were for the killing of innocent people, I do not see how you found it passable to connect that to “religiosity” when you said: “ our society has definitely shifted towards religiosity since the 60s and the 70s.”

If I am to assume that you meant to establish some tie between the religiosity that you say has increased since the 60s and 70s, and for that bit of intelligence I have no official record, indeed, who could measure people’s degrees of faith?, and the support of massacres worldwide, well sir I could easily prove you wrong. I am not assuming that, however, but I will be so open as to ask you to elaborate, and furnish a well-structured rationalization.

Sir, do not mistake this for a trial. I am eager to learn from you and I think this projected exchange of thought to be of great use. You have proceeded in your comment to inform me, and anyone who read the comment, that you are an avowed atheist and you see the danger of religion to motivate people towards unthinkable acts in the name of faith. You were not about to attack religious people, by your own admission, and I am not about to attack you or any other.

But what I find most amusing is that atheism seems to clutch to certain concepts in its self-defense. Have no doubt that I possess, probably, a more skeptic stand and a critical mind when it comes to the existence of a certain deity. I do not wish to tell you of my path of mind and spirit so far, although I do hope that you feel that you, and other atheists, are not alone in posing certain questions.

The line of reasoning that you follow is questionable when you deduce that religion drives people to do evil. People are capable of evil with or without religion, sir. Should we have the capacity to carry out , well, let’s call it a “social experiment”, and we erected a small village of people with no religion and put them in the midst of natural circumstances occurring in possibility in any other society, in my estimation their capability of doing wrong would equal that of other people, if it does not exceed it.

From where I stand, Islam needs to be understood. I wonder what reformation you were referring to when you sustained that “Islam needs a reformation similar to the Christian reformation”.

I share your wondering when it comes to brilliant historical personages, but I am not as pessimistic as I have received you to be. There is a good number of sensible and highly respected Islamic scholars in our day. From where I see it, they do not get enough exposure. That is a problem that should be dealt with because moderation needs to be stressed and divulged.

I would not necessarily link the high school averages of those who apply to major in Islamic studies and what not, with their level of intelligence. I would certainly not infer that such individuals, or Imams as you like to say, are “the dumbest people in our society” and are “semi retarded idiots”. Such descriptions come too extreme and I would advise against using them. I do not approve of a big chunk of what many so-called religious representatives say, and I do not know how they have been taught to say what they say, but I would not use such adjectives if indeed I were to verbalize this disapproval.

If one does not trust the intelligence of Imams, one can always learn for one’s self. Islam encourages learning and urges people to entertain critical minds and to question what they stand for. Despite what some people market, Islam is a highly personal faith. It is you and your lord, settling out your record is your own business and not the business of any other. That is not to say that the collectivity of Muslims play no role in society, which is an issue present in most, if not all, societies.

I respect you opinions and I hope you continue to share them with my readership and me. It is a rare occasion when one finds pleasure in learning of intriguing remarks. I also extend an invitation to all willing to take part in this conversation, all viewpoints matter.

Blood down

In Bits & pieces on November 10, 2005 at 3:27 pm

As cities go, Amman is proving to be holding up after what tragedies have struck the heart of her last night. Now that people are trying to calm themselves from the initial state of panic, and are struggling to absorb it all in, the news have changed.

Delivering eloquent critique is beyond the point of this entry. My mother has just received a phone call informing her of bits of intelligence that she had been previously unaware of. An Adiga relative is severley injured, and has lost a lot of blood. This lady was the mother of the bride who, like me, was made up from an Adiga-Arab cocktail.

My cousins were about to enter the hall where the wedding was hosted to join the party. They did not but another Adiga relative was inside and is now injured as well. I can think of ways in which the whole drama could get more personal, but to stick to the reality of the shock I am telling you that I have been to the house of one of those ladies and I have been her guest. My mother, on the other hand, knows both victims closely.

I suppose the maxim of this brief narration is to let you share this sorrow, although sorrow is seldom desirable to receive. Those who fell were real people. I am real; I am sad and writing you of this grief.

Bombings in Amman: The aftermath of the tragedy

In Jordan, Opinion on November 10, 2005 at 12:12 am

I have been glued to the TV ever since the three explosive crimes took place in the heart of Amman. I do not really know what to feel, I know I am petrified and angry however. I can feel the formation of endless questions in a way that is almost physical.

I realise that a good number of people would find it tempting to link the happenings to Islam and to all those I declare; you are mistaken. Do not have it in your heads to mix true Islam with those who cling to bits of it,modify them as they please, and act upon such false pillars of belief that they themselves have distorted into that shape.

There is this general misunderstanding of the Islamic religion in its pure,unpolluted form. That misunderstanding leads some to believe they are doing what is right and in harmony with their faith, when in fact what they do is smear its name and portray a negative image of it; quite the opposite from what they had set out to do. Such conduct leads to blind accusations and an almost universal frowning-down upon Islam.

I urge you not to link this to Islam, for being a Muslim myself, I do not approve of violence. In the Holy Quran Allah says that killing one person is equal to killing all people.

“For that cause We decreed for the Children of Israel that whosoever killeth a
human being for other than man-slaughter or corruption in the earth, it shall be
as if he had killed all mankind, and whosoever saveth the life of one, it shall
be as if he had saved the life of all mankind.” – The Glorious Quran, Sura 5:32

Ignite death

In Jordan, Personal on November 9, 2005 at 10:19 pm

I am trying not to be emotional but the freshest incidents in Amman, the capital of Jordan, have overwhelmed me. Three bombings have targeted three different hotels in the city, killing and injuring tens of civilians. There was a wedding party in the Radisson SAS, one of the hotels that were blown up, the explosion claimed the lives of those in attendance.

If I were to think of the matter thoroughly, I will panic without doubt. The bombings took place some two minutes away from my office and there happens to be a hotel adjacent to it. Suppose such a crime is repeated in a range closer to where I am present, how will I feel then, how will you feel then? Make it personal and reflect upon it, then you can feel the gravity of what has taken place in my beloved city.

I could have been there and I could have died, only I was not and I did not; my fellow countrymen and women were struck dead and I was spared. I do not know why this happened and I do not think I could fully understand the reasons behind it, even if I resort to objectivity and calmness. I am severely grieved and I mourn the souls of those who died tonight.

Quoting Aristotle on Education

In Quoting on November 9, 2005 at 9:10 am

It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought
without accepting it.

-Aristotle

Name my sex

In Bits & pieces on November 8, 2005 at 9:36 am

Do not entertain the illusion that I, Tololy, am asking you to name my sex. I am a self-professed female and I was born as such. The rather interesting title refers to Name My Sex; a site effectively entertaining that was featured on Click Online, a BBC World show that I try to watch when I can afford the luxury of time.

I enjoyed the site because I think it could play a more important role in the future. Such a role comes under the disputed flag of the ties linking, or detaching, feminism and language. On a more lighter note, this site is a real brainteaser. You would find yourself posing questions such as “Why do I think a car is female?”, or “How come home is male?”. It is highly taunting, see for yourself.

The seduction of a printed word

In Bits & pieces on November 8, 2005 at 9:35 am

Now this is nice. I just spent a fortune on two books that, allow me to declare, I had no intention of buying. I found myself walking into a bookshop and then I was taken by the eeriness of my sentiment; a feeling I often encounter upon seeing titles I have not yet laid my mind on.

I started leafing through the books and biting my lips so hard that the outline of my lipstick became asymmetrical. Nothing too wild for my taste. Then I proceeded to fishing the money out of my neatly tailored purse-wallet and the damage was done.
I even had a little chitchat with the man in charge of the store, he took the liberty of exposing to my humble knowledge the fact that he sells those books for 30% less. I admit I was overjoyed at this bit of intelligence, only it turned out that I had previously bought the books for the same price, from a different store. The irony of it all.

To make up for the sudden imbalance of budget, I decided to take the “How much is my blog worth?” test. Can I ever relate the rapture of seeing that my blog has increased in value? The money is fictional and non-substantial, nevertheless it helps mend this broken pocket one way or the other.


My blog is worth $7,339.02.
How much is your blog worth?

Arabic Entry: شعر عربي

In عربي on November 7, 2005 at 3:19 am

إليكم أبياتاً متفرقة من الشعر العربي, هذه أبيات تسترجع حكمة الشعراء و شياطينهم كما تستحضر فيَ أياماً ماضيات, يؤسفني أن لا
أستطيع التحكم بضبط الصفحة كما أشتهي و بالطريقة اللازمة , إنما يعود ذاك الى عدم مواتاة هذا البرنامج للغة الضاد

قال أبو حسن التهامي

ليس الزمان و إن حرصت مسالماً خلق الزمان عداوة الأحرار
نزداد هماً كلما ازددنا غنىً و الفقر كل الفقر في الإكثار

و قال آخر

حياك من ام تكن ترجو تحيته لولا الدراهم ما حياك إنسان

فيما قال آخر
و نحن نوفي العيش باللهو حقه و نخطف ساعات السرور من العمر

و بصفتنا مقبلين على فصل الشتاء, أستشهد بقول الشاعر

النار فاكهة الشتاء فمن يرد أكل الفواكه شاتياً فليصطلي

Yet again

In Bits & pieces on November 6, 2005 at 6:52 am

Indeed the box is up and running again. I am back to that old habit of updating Tololy’s Box, to the delight of myself and the readership. After a splendid three-day-off,I am still surprised at what could happen in such a short span of time. Relating the events of the past three days would prove to be quite a trial. That so-called-social-commentator-by-Orpah Eminem’s song “guess who’s back” is playing over and over again in my head like a broken record. I cannot help but disagree with Oprah on this one but the song is expressive and adequate for the moment.

I would like to thank my readership, and quite basically every single person who reads my words, be that person a new or a regular reader. It brings me great joy to be able to connect to minds other than my own, sometimes I fail to connect to that one, you see. Another thank you note goes out to everyone who wished me a happy eid, and not to forget, anyone who wished to wish me a happy eid but could not. Now let’s cut to the chase.

From that past blog of mine I bring you what I wrote on Saturday, November 6th, 2004. I posted three entries, I probably was mentally over stimulated; a symptom not unknown to some and anonymous to others.

At 12:58 a.m. I wrote under the title “The kid in the car” the following:

Tonight, I saw a 7 year old boy in a car with his family. He held a small blue paper fan in his hand, and stretched his arm outside the window of the car so as to get the fan’s pannels to move by the gushing air. He was smiling and seemed so happy. It seemed to me as if he was in his own little world that,at that moment, revolved around the blue motion of the fan. It was small but it made him smile. I looked at him and felt happy with him. I tried to follow his facial expressions but the car he was in took a left turn and soon it was gone.

I looked up, tried to find my own source of smiles. All I saw was a tall building with a multitude of names of lawyers,doctors,people…I saw traffic lights and an ok number of people passing by chaotically. I searched for something that could bring a child-like smile to my lips, or revive one, but all I saw was a group of cars, a group of people, and a group of buildings… All too wispy.

At 10:33 p.m. under “Lollipop in my hair” :

There’s a green lollipop swinging between my previously-braced teeth, I won’t be exaggerating if I say the taste that runs in the equipped buds of mine is extreme. I’ve noticed that it’s some kind of a tendency lollipop manufacturers have, to carefully “project” exotic extremist tastes into their valuable and very often indispensable little creations. Depicting an image of “naughty” innocence, playful teasing, or say seemingly casual & child-like bounciness with a camouflaged sensual message. Isn’t that what comes to mind upon hearing this magical word? A lollipop is a yummy treat indeed. I enjoy lollipops immensely and I bet everybody else does, too. Well, maybe for different reasons.

I loved lollipops so much when I was still at school. I clearly remember a ritual I had for over a year, I used to buy a lollipop everyday after school and enjoy my little habitual treasure as I waited for the bus. One day, I mentioned lollipops in front of mom. She told me I shouldn’t “enjoy” a lollipop in the street. I don’t think I understood what that meant at the time. I got it eventually after considerable thinking and coincidental events. A lollipop in action meant so much more than just a yummy treat. That’s just sad.

This nice innovation comes in a multitude of colors & tastes. Different catchy names. “Honey ooze”,” Crazy melon”,” Fun banana”…

The funniest thing happened a while ago as I was typing this blog. I flung my arm backwards in a pensive manner, forgetting that I held a precious green lime lollipop in my hand. Yes, there is a down side to lollipops. They stick. And they are particularly good at sticking to your hair so watch it. It doesn’t matter what color, taste, or name the ‘ollipops claim, they can breed pain and pollution.

When you think of lollipops, chew over that.

The third entry was a quote, one of my favorites thus far, it read: “People say I am brainwashing people. No, I am not brainwashing people. I am certainly washing their brains – and I believe in dry cleaning.”

Announcement

In Bits & pieces on November 2, 2005 at 7:58 am

Tololy’s Box will not be updated starting November 3rd through November 5th. I am claiming some time off to be able to enjoy Eid Al Fitr. I do not wish to tempt you with the illusion that I will post entries in the days mentioned, simply because I understand that I will be unable to write properly and I would hate to insult your intelligence.

Eid Mubarak to all, enjoy!

Beaucoup Bucks

In Bits & pieces on November 1, 2005 at 10:00 pm
This made me remember a saying on an ancient poster that I had hung on the wall next to my bed. It read: ” Money talks, but it often says goodbye”.
I think it is highly amusing to find out that my blox ( that’s blog and box after mating ), is worth some money. Indeed money is not why I keep the box running, nevertheless knowing that what I am doing can generate revenue has a warming feeling to my senses.


My blog is worth $3,387.24.
How much is your blog worth?

Personal Entry: The house where yummies are made

In Jordan, Personal on November 1, 2005 at 10:28 am

I did not post an entry about Ramadan, the holy month of fasting for Muslims, because I could not spare the time to record all that loomed in my head about it. I will share a little of my memories of the month and perhaps inform you of some of its aspects.

In the month of Ramadan Muslims obey Allah by carrying out a special sort of worship called “Siam” or “fasting”. They do so by refraining from eating or drinking from the dawn of each day until sunset, for a period of 29 or 30 days, depending on the duration of the lunar month.
Ramadan was the month in which the Glorious Quran was first sent down to Prophet Mohammad, peace be upon him.

I have personally been brought up in a house that highly respects Ramadan. To bring you a more in depth look at how things normally run in our house during the holy month, I will relate some details.

It is customary for us, in Ramadan, to wake up at around 3:30 a.m. to eat. Now some people eat before they sleep and that is fine. But certain blessings are said to exist in the “dawn” meal, known as “Sohour” in Arabic. So we eat a little, think of it as a very early breakfast, and then some pray and others read some verses of the Glorious Quran, then all retreat to their beds for a brief sleep.

I realize that some find the actual act of fasting to be tiring. Some, who have not tried it, think it impossible. I respect all opinions but I do not think it is that hard. It makes you regard things differently, and appreciate the blessings of your life. It even helps you reflect on how people, who cannot afford the many things you have, manage.

A day in Ramadan is a regular day. One goes about one’s business and all the mundane details attached to that. When the day is almost over, families gather up and start preparing for the meal that will “break” their “fast. In our house my mother cooks, I prepare the table necessities and such, and we solemnly wait for the proper time when we can eat.

Once the sunset prayer is called for, it is time to eat. People often make the mistake of eating too much once they’re allowed to, this causes a number of problems. One should drink a little water and eat a date or two, perhaps have some hot soup. Moderation in all things is wise.
At home we normally drink a little water, and some have a date. I don’t because I don’t like dates,they’re too sweet for my taste. Then we leave the table and pray together. This gives time for our bodies’ systems to get back on track and prepare for the upcoming meal.

A story that my mother repeats often in Ramadan is of my fear of the “Msahharati”. That is a person who roams the neighborhoods at night with a drum in his hand. He strikes the drum and chants a few words to rouse people from their sleep, so they would eat and pray. This profession still exists in some areas despite the fact that usage of alarm clocks has been largely adopted.
The story has it that I, as a child, would be scared stiff when the Msahharati arrives. I would call him ” Al Tabbal”, meaning “the drummer”. So much for an elegant title.
I can gladly announce that now I have overcome my fear of Al Tabbal who walks the streets at night with a drum in his hand.

This is how the days of Ramadan fly by. The very first day after the month’s end is called Eid Al Fitr, which literally means: “The festival of breaking the fast”. The event lasts three days during which the month’s fasting is celebrated, social visits are exchanged, delicious sweets are made, and money is given to the needy.

Families prepare for the festivity beforehand; buying new clothes, making special schedules as to what gets done and when during the three days of Eid, and my favourite bit of it all, making sweets.

Sweets-making sessions at home are parties in their own rights. We all gather to model the yummies and this is probably the most delightful part of the preparations, in my eyes. It is true that I would rather consume the products than work them but I enjoy it all the same.

My mother has her own line of Eid sweets besides “Mamoul” which is the typical Eid sweet. It is normally stuffed with ground nuts or minced dates, flavoured with cinnamon and other spices. Mother makes little donuts that we cover with chocholate and chopped-soft coconut flesh. She also makes an Arabic sweet named “Ghraibeh”, this is not stuffed with anything but is very nice when it melts in one’s mouth.

As a line of custom, most houses offer Turkish coffee to guests in the days of Eid. They also serve tea or even soda. We do that as well but my mother makes it her job to prepare large quantities of hot cinnamon drink to be served to family and friends. This she makes by getting raw cinnamon sticks and boiling them for a very long time. Sugar is added as desired and so are ground nuts added to the surface of the drink in one’s cup. The smell of cinnamon in the morning of Eid is one of my strongest memories of the event. I wake up to it. Ours is the house where yummies are made.

I should be posting some pictures of the delicacies I mentioned. It would help give those of my readership who have never seen or had the luck of tasting them a better vision. I hope I will be able to do that soon.