What I really wanted to say about that

“The absence of Marwa’s story from the mainstream media and the failure to start a debate about the immediate dangers of present European anti-Muslim racism shows the depth of the problem and draws us to expect a gloomy future for Muslims in Europe. Muslims like Neda only get to the news if their story serves the dominant narrative that presents Islam as the primary threat to freedom, while Muslims like Marwa who expose the pervasive racism of the West and challenge the existing stereotypes fail to get their story told.”

Read the whole article here.

(And yes, he took my title. But he’s allowed to, because he is my husband.)

One woman makes the news, another one doesn’t

So here’s what happened, and we saw it:A woman in Iran protested the outcome of the elections, and was shot by the Religious Guard. She died on the street. International outrage followed.

So here’s what happened, and we didn’t see it: An Egyptian woman living in Germany sued a man for using racist and sexist slurs against her. She won; the man is fined 780 Euros. He appealed, and when she showed up in the courtroom for the second trial, he attacked her and stabbed her 18 times, to death, with a knife – in front of her 3-year old child. Her husband, who rushed in to help her, was shot by the guards in the courtroom and remains in critical condition in the hospital. International silence followed.

Can we all take a moment to think about what it means that the first death is immediately widely covered in European and American press, and the second death widely silenced?

Simpelweg hilarisch

Ik heb al eens eerder geschreven over de lolligheid van een multiculturele relatie: humor laat zich maar lastig vertalen. Ik herinner me een Iraanse collega in Amsterdam die elke ochtend bulderend van het lachen de nieuwste Iraanse cartoon zat te lezen – cartoons die zelfs met de beste uitleg niet meer dan een glimlach op het gezicht van de rest van het team veroorzaakten. Hier is weer zo iets. Onderstaande video is een clip van een slapstick-achtige TV-show genaamd S.L.Chi (‘meest irritante ding’) die eind jaren ’90 hier in Libanon op de buis was. De meeste van mijn vrienden vinden dit geweldig, en kunnen niet stoppen met lachen als ze dit eenmaal na beginnen te doen. Ik doe heus mijn best in het integratie-proces, maar dit? Ik snap niet wat hier zo grappig aan is... (vertaling onder de video):

- Meneer, meneer! - Ja? - Uw deur staat open! - Wat? - De deur! De deur staat open! - Deur? - Deur! - Mijn deur? - Uw deur staat open! - Oh! (zegt iets tegen zijn mede-passagier/chauffeur) Dankuwel meneer!

Lachen gieren brullen, nietwaar... Wat denk jij?

Lost and found: does anyone know this little guy?

I found him on the street here in Hamra a little while ago. Someone must have loved him dearly – he’s missing a leg and two arms, and possibly his ears as well. If you know the kid who lost this little guy, please direct him or her to me; this little one is waiting to be picked up…

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What goes up...

Sietske has a post up about the way things are celebrated in Lebanon: with fireworks. Beautiful fireworks, and dangerous gunfire: emptying one’s Kalashnikov (or recently: RPG) straight up into the air to celebrate (re-)election of one’s favorite politician is considered quite acceptable behavior by many. It’s one of those habits that’s amusing as long as you don’t think about the consequences, because as Sietske says: what goes up, must come down, and a bullet coming at you vertically is no less lethal than a bullet flying horizontally.

Walid tells me the story of the first time Nabih Berri was elected Speaker of Parliament, in the early years after the civil war. Celebratory gunfire erupted in the neighborhood of his school. They were playing in the recreational area during the break when suddenly a boy fell to the floor, blood all over the place. He was rushed to the hospital and the bully of the class was punished because ‘he must have hit him with something sharp’. As it turned out later, a bullet coming down had entered the boy’s body close to his neck and had ended up close to his heart.

A friend of mine told me a similar story. When the civil war was over, she and her sister went out to celebrate. So did many people – with their weapons. The sister was hit by a ‘celebratory bullet’ in her lower back and brought to the hospital; she’s still in a wheelchair.

The most famous of these tragic stories is from a wedding in the Beqaa: when the newly married couple drove off in a convertible, their friends and family were shooting in the air to celebrate. One of the bullets came down and hit the bride; she died on the spot.

I heard this last story so many times I don’t know if it’s true; but it shocks me that these incidents are not more widely reported. If there is fighting, every killed and wounded is counted; but when it’s to celebrate, we hardly ever hear of all those things that go wrong. We may pretend it’s a fun game to guess the difference between the sound of firecrackers and Kalashnikov, but maybe Maya Zankoul’s rage is more appropriate. Not sure about her solution, though…