Pakistan’s flawed and feudal princess | Comment | The Observer
Benazir Bhutto was a courageous, secular and liberal woman. But sadness at the demise of this courageous fighter should not mask the fact that as a pro-Western feudal leader who did little for the poor, she was as much a central part of Pakistan’s problems as the solution to them.
Simply saying that everyone has the vote doesn’t do it for me. Until at least two parties have been in power, i don’t think a country can have any claims to democracy. How many African countries have universal suffrage, and have peacefully changed the ruling party. I don’t know, but precious few I suspect.
South Africa presently has no opposition party that has any chance of meaningful power. Perhaps in time, the best option would be a split in the ruling African National Congress, but then the fear of violence and bloodshed will surely increase.
The ANC is now well and truly ensconced, with widespread corruption and syphoning of funds through all levels of power. Its clear that to rake in the bucks, you have to be a member of the ANC. And the problem of course is that it takes a powerful opposition to keep the ruling party on the straight and narrow. So while you are riding the gravy train what chances are there that you will join the opposition or split away.
Not until the abuse of power becomes absolutely clear to an educated majority of the voters.
Education is the key here, it may take a generation of educated South Africans before it becomes clear that the ANC should not be in power forever. While i am sure there are plenty of high minded moral ANC members – if i was a corrupt official I wouldn’t be that interested in improving the standards of education any time soon, nor would i be interested in expanding a diverse media through a free press, or supplying new media channels (say the Internet) to all points of this large country.
Some new photos from South Africa – Dorp means small town in the middle of nowhere (or in this case the Free State).
silence of the lambs?
I remember arriving on a beach in Martinique with a group of Americans I worked for. The males, on seeing the almost naked french girls on the beach, attired in only string thongs, thought, based on past experience, that they were about to have sex. Perhaps not on the beach, but very soon.
Of course nothing could be further from the truth. There is nothing less approachable than naked french girls on a Martinique beach, attired in little more than red nail polish. But Americans at the time were not accustomed to being around real live naked girls unless they were about to get laid. My boss promptly checked into the hotel and spent the next few days fruitlessly strutting his stuff.
French television and billboard advertising will often use female breasts in a variety of formats, right in front of the poor impressionable kids during prime time television. No-one bats an eyelid, or pays much attention for that matter, including the kids.
Benazir Bhutto
I remember watching the BBC’s Newsnight a few years ago when Benazir Bhutto, the rather pretty Muslim ex prime minister of Pakistan was being interviewed about some serious political and religious matters. I forget what they were. During a long – perhaps 20 minute debate, her head scarf was slowly slipping backwards off her head. Was she permitted to appear in public without a head scarf? I didn’t know. Nor did she realize that her scarf was slipping off. The tension was incredible, was it going to slip off? A few times it was tugged back into position, but finally her head and hair were uncovered.
It was very sexy show. I can understand that some might find this level of titillation unacceptable, but had she appeared without her head scarf, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought, and might have paid attention to the arguments she was doubtless expressing with great skill.
The tea plant, Camellia sinensis, comes in many forms—black, green, oolong. What makes Camellia so healthful is its polyphenols, antioxidants that protect against cell damage and help prevent diseases like age-related decline, cancer and heart disease. But herbal teas like chamomile don’t have the same benefits. That is, all except one. The South African “rooibos,” meaning red bush in Afrikaans, has the benefits of Camellia without the caffeine.
Psychology Today: Tea from the African Bush
I have been addicted to Rooibos tea for several years now – excellent brew for the evening – but beware, it may not have caffeine, but it gives a little lift – not unlike the other Indian and Chinese herbs of the variety Camellia sinensis.
I am an atheist, but recently I started an RSS search feed in my feed reader (FeedDemon) to search the blogs and news for the keyword “God”.
The problem with the word GOD, or GAAD in American Baptist (GAWD in London), is that no one can define what they mean by GOD – it could be almost anything, from a bearded man in the sky, to a general term for the sum total of everything. And if the answer is GOD – what is the question?
There is no point rattling on about a term if there is no clearly defined definition. I have a feeling that if you manage to define the term you will be half way to forming a new religion – and before long you will have more money than god (who is always broke).
Should you be able to define Gaad , you will also probably discover all his hidden names, and he will appear before you and split your head asunder. Though I doubt you can find any of His names, as God uses a different vocabulary to the average mortal – when was the last time you used the word “asunder” (or “smite”)?
But using “God” as a search term is always rewarding, you get the occasional theological discussion, a lot of cussing/swearing, a fair smattering of politics (too much GW Bush perhaps), the latest news on just about every war on the planet, and a not inconsiderable amount of Eric Clapton and various guitar legends. Not a half bad search term for a broad view of the general zeitgeist of the day. Economical to type, mostly entertaining and informative, even a little mysterious.
Please design and build me a house. I am not quite sure of what I need, so you should use your discretion. My house should have somewhere between two and forty-five bedrooms. Just make sure the plans are such that the bedrooms can be easily added or deleted. When you bring the blueprints to me, I will make the final decision of what I want. Also, bring me the cost breakdown for each configuration so that I can arbitrarily pick one.
Keep in mind that the house I ultimately choose must cost less than the one I am currently living in. Make sure, however, that you correct all the deficiencies that exist in my current house (the floor of my kitchen vibrates when I walk across it, and the walls don’t have nearly enough insulation in them).
In need of a name for your new band?
Web manipulator and Dilbert funny man gets his readers to do all the work.
My Favorite from the 70′s – The Sex Beatles.
Fundamentalist Christian right "para church" ministries with apocalyptic theological views have penetrated the United States military in a pattern, we’ll shortly be demonstrating, that goes from the Pentagon on down to the base level, in which evangelical organizations, under the Campus Crusade for Christ, teach Biblical literalism and "Rapture" theology. These ministries have been invited onto US military basic training facilities to run "religious education" programs and evangelize recruits.
Daily Kos: Pervasive Pattern Of Fundamentalist Influence In Military
BuzzMachine » Blog Archive » There is no safe harbor from change
I continue to see news people wishing upon stars for some salvation from the change bearing down on them: fairy godmothers who will swoop in from government or foundations or rich families to provide magic money that lets them continue to do business as they have. Consider this Columbia Journalism Review piece wishing for government support of news and this New York Times report setting up the Poynter-Institute-owned St. Petersburg Times as an ideal.
How to Survive as the Family Tech Support Guy (or Gal) – lifehack.org
One of the most insidious pressures on tech-savvy people these days is the seemingly constant pressure to provide quick, top-quality computer and web support — to our families.
But it’s a responsibility that can quickly grow to wreak havoc on our schedules. You soon find yourself barraged with calls, making house calls, and squeezing in last-minute requests. It’s like the freelancer’s worst nightmare client, except a) you’re not being paid, b) you can’t ask them to take their business elsewhere, and c) you’re expected to offer a lifetime guarantee.
Two very similar articles in the last few days from completely different sources – I guess there are plenty of Americans who don’t fall for all the smoke-up-arse-blowing that is being done by the government lackey media.
The first from Salon:
the U.S. State Department denounced Ahmadinejad as himself little more than a terrorist. Critics have also cited his statements about the Holocaust or his hopes that the Israeli state will collapse. He has been depicted as a Hitler figure intent on killing Israeli Jews, even though he is not commander in chief of the Iranian armed forces, has never invaded any other country, denies he is an anti-Semite, has never called for any Israeli civilians to be killed, and allows Iran’s 20,000 Jews to have representation in Parliament.
Iran’s Ahmadinejad, public enemy No. 1? | Salon.com
The second from Dilbert Blog:
Ahmadinejad also called the holocaust a "myth." Fuck him! A myth is something a society uses to frame their understanding of their world, and act accordingly. It’s not as if the world created a whole new country because of holocaust guilt and gives it a free pass no matter what it does. That’s Iranian crazy talk. Ahmadinejad can blow me.
You CAN get there from here … if you fold through the dimension above
Here, however (for what it is worth) is the definitive verdict of thermodynamics: water is not a fuel. It never has been one, and it never will be one. Water does not burn. Water is already burnt — it is spent fuel. It is exhaust.
Newsnight | Inside Mugabes Zimbabwe
Last nights Newsnight on BBC2 painted a disturbing picture of life in Robert Mugabe’s Zimbabwe – check the link above for an outline and link to the video.
What is even more disturbing to me – with cholera epidemic just around the corner, people starving, and a life expectancy in the middle thirties for most people – is the continued complicity of the South African government and all that this implies – they are not about to condemn a brutal dictator because of the colour of his skin.
Its hard to imagine that conditions are any better for most people than during apartheid regimes of the past. The new rulers of southern Africa don’t seem to have read George Orwell’s Animal Farm – they seem to relish the prospect of grabbing power for themselves and screwing the people into the earth. There is going to be no revolution while people are busy starving. Meanwhile as the rulers in South Africa look over their shoulders in paradoxical envy, South Africa itself is flooded with poor Zimbabweans surviving as best they can in gangs that rob loot and rape.
Someone once suggested to me, that if the rest of the world threw up a fence around Africa – no one outside of Africa would give a damn. Apart from some resources – its hard to argue with this viewpoint. Is Africa going to be a mess forever? Is it all the fault of the colonial past – if so why isn’t East Asia in the same mess?
The Doors – When The Music’s Over
Jim Morrison’s 1966 ecological message – still great after all these years:
What have they done to the Earth,
What have they done to our fair sister?
Ravaged and plundered and ripped her and bit her
Stuck her with knives in the side of the dawn,
And tied her with fences and dragged her down.
So when the music’s over,
Turn out the lights.
Psychology Today: Crying Over Spilled Semen
The finding that women who do not use condoms during sex are less depressed and less likely to attempt suicide than are women who have sex with condoms and women who are not sexually active, leads one researcher to conclude that semen contains powerful—and potentially addictive—mood-altering chemicals.
Looking at a map, it appears that Djerba – off the south eastern coast of Tunisia would be a good island base from which to explore southern Tunisia. Within easy driving distance of the oasis of the northern sahara, and with access to the sea and beaches.
Further contemplation of the map reveals a “Zone Touristic” along the eastern beaches of Djerba. Not a good sign, but having decided on a whim that Tunisia sounded like an exotic destination for a family vacation, logistics demanded that we locate near the sea. I found an excellent looking “residence” outside of the zone touristic but within walking distance of the sea – so i booked a week and we flew down “en familie”.
The best hope i have for Djerba, is that they find oil on the island and some aggressive nation, near far or local, decides to invade, and in the process levels the “Zone Touristic”.
The idea i believe is to fly down tourists by the bucket load, then pack them on the baking beach while providing an “all inclusive” holiday. Each hotel had its own 100 meters of beach front, patrolled by security in case an inhabitant of a nearby “all inclusive” should decide to partake of a finer vintage of inclusivity. Security was tight, but we had been given rights to one of the nearby hotels facilities by our “residence”. Even so, without the tell tale bead bracelet, whistles were blown in our direction any time we strayed outside the 3 meters of wet sand or wandered towards a pool.
I have as much desire to spend my day next to 100′s of oiled up tourists, as i have to spend my days riding the London Underground. So leaving this beach was not a problem. If you want to find the most expensive hotel in the zone, and spend a few days within its confines – i do believe you could have an enjoyable weekend – assuming it is the middle of winter in the northern hemisphere and you have serious vitamin D deficiency. But its not my gig.
The zone touristic stretches along the sea front for 10′s of kilometres. Some hotels were smart and exotic and no development was over 2 stories high. But outside of the actual hotels are vacant lots – best way i can describe them – filled with rubble and garbage. It seems like some older building projects (or perhaps an ancient civilisation) has been bulldozed to the side to make way for the latest development, then left to fester in any open space available. On one side of the coast road are the “all inclusive” hotels, inter-spaced with vacant lots of rubble and garbage, on the other side of the road are cheap Disney World type fast food restaurants selling limp chips and flyblown salad Tunisian (with the inevitable topping of canned tuna), crappy boutiques filled with belly dancer Halloween costumes and hookahs and all the tat that the misguided locals seem to think tourists would be delighted to accumulate.
As you move inland things improve, the buildings thin out and some evidence of palms and olive groves can be found. There are smaller vacant lots of rubble and garbage and some smart looking villas among the sandy roads. Everything is separated by empty lots or half buildings and rubble. I don’t know if Djerba went through a boom period and things have now slowed down, or perhaps they only build at night or in winter, but i never saw any evidence of serious construction, no sign of workers toiling in the 36 degree heat – and who can blame them, but how did all these half finished buildings get there.
Given my lack of enthusiasm for the “Zone Touristic”, I am happy to report that our rooms at “Residence Amphora Menzel” were excellent – half a mile back from the chaos of the main road and the ZONE. An imaginatively decorated 2 storied 2 bedroom 2 bathroom 3 balcony “residence” with a kitchenette. Cooled by 3 air con units and surrounding a courtyard festooned with cushions and carpets. Merek the owner and our guide, gave a resoundingly warm welcome, catered to our every whim, gave excellent advise as to what to see and avoid, provided a hire car delivered to the door, and was general good guy and friend. A worldly doctor in Paris he developed these 6 residences in 2001 which he then furnished with taste. He paid relentless attention to detail, and was available at all hours. Merek chatted and fed us mint tea on the carpets in the courtyard and he quickly spotted my lack of enthusiasm for all inclusive beach bumming and suggested a two day drive into the interior in search of authenticity and oasis.
Our drive across the island at 7:30 in the morning, painted the island in a more favourable light than our excursions of the previous day in our hire car. Things get better towards the centre and south of Djerba, more olive groves, but all set in a flat uninteresting landscape. And any time you get close to tourist spots of the slightest interest, the bartering with the insistent locals gets tiresome. You expect to be pestered in the north African Souc’s, you have to develop your skills with humour and patients, and don’t let the first guy to come along latch onto you or you are stuck with him for the duration. “Hey remember me from the hotel” was a common introductory phrase.
We caught the ferry to the mainland and found ourselves on the continent of Africa, drove north along the chaotic main road to Tunis and at Gabes, turned left towards Kebili and Tozeur. Driving through the towns is always interesting, scooters and pedestrians cross the road without a look in any directions- right into your path. After a while i wondered if it was not a ploy to be hit by a hire car and extort money.
This was a harsh land, a trickle of water the only reason for any town to develop, and as we headed west it got hotter. Excursions in the middle of day went only a few feet from our air-conditioned tourist mobile. As the day progressed people were harder to spot, anybody with any sense was in the shade somewhere. Then we went through Kebili and a series of “Palmiers” and oasis and found ourselves on a salt desert with only gleaming crystals for miles in either direction. Car failure here would have been interesting, if not life threatening. When we stopped on the edge of the salt desert the temperature must have been well over 40 degrees in blasting baking wind. Having a pee felt like doing the place a favour.
Crossing the “Chott el Jerid” successfully we saw a line of palms rising slowly from the gleam, floating like a mirage above the heat, and turned south towards Tozeur, following the dusty villages who support the few palm oasis on the edge of the salt pan.
Tozeur is another tourist destination, and horror of horrors, has a “Zone Touristic”, with all the appeal of all the “Zone Touristic” that we had so far encountered. Air conditioned Gaudy hotels with Alibaba codpieces, speckled with dust blown fast food monstrosities. But the “Palmier” here is a big deal, dates farmed from homes behind elaborate gates with irrigation systems plumbed into the fabric of the soil. We had hoped to find a meal on the edge of the oasis and enjoy a light lunch, but after driving through the palm groves for long enough, we finally happened upon the “Little Prince”. What a dump, designed it appeared to accommodate coach loads of tourists in a semi air-conditioned light less dungeon.
Is the notion of what tourists actually might want, so far removed from the Tunisian mind that they plonk them in the first space they can air condition. How difficult would it be to create an elevated and shady retreat overlooking the palms of the oasis. Make it out of palm trunks and leaves, surely easier than the brick and cement buildings that were always evident in their half completeness.
Stocked up on cokes and headed north to Tamerza!
And then it got interesting again crossing the near desert, with a line of mountains visible in the distance and “beware of the camels crossing” signs next to the road. On the left we thought we could see signs of water, but it became apparent that these were actually heat mirages.
At the foothills we followed a series of oasis up to Tamerza and checked into the “Tamerza Palace”. Overlooking the ruined old town of Tamerza that had been washed away when it rained for a half an hour back in 1969, it was a truly spectacular location. Perched on the side of the hill; a four star hotel with cool swimming pool, comfortable rooms and good food. We freshened up, then took an early evening walk in the palms oasis before heading over to Mides for the sunset. We found a delightfully sad old guide who claimed to be one of the original inhabitants before the old town of Mides had also washed away. He missed the old days he said and showed us the ruins where he was born and brought up. Now they had to build brick buildings, the palm groves couldn’t support the village, and things just weren’t the same. 2 dinar for a bottle of cold water seemed reasonable.
I leaned out dangerously over the precipice and took a shaky shot over the canyon made famous by star wars movies, our guide stood next to me like a mountain goat while my family wailed at my stupidity – i had all the passports and money.
We were one of only 4 parties dinning at the Tamerza Palace that night – real bear and wine with the meal. A location not to be missed, and my North African skills were improving – we managed to haggle the price of our suite down by 100 Dinar.
The next day we drove back through Douz and Matmata. In Douz we found hundreds of camels sitting beside the sand dunes of the Sahara, all saddled up and waiting, it appeared, for coach loads of tourists to take an hour excursion into the desert. In Matmata we found the troglodyte dwelling holes of former the inhabitants – another tourist trap. Between the two towns we actually ran across a line of camels crossing the road. The “camel crossing” road signs were not a tourist ruse.
Between Matmata and Metameur we had the most beautiful and authentic drive of return journey. The town of Toujane appeared unspoilt, real Tunisians sat outside the houses keeping cool. We had finally found a Town that had not been driven to gaudiness by the relentless march of the Tour operators.
When we finally returned to the 36 degree heat of Djerba and the Amphora Menzel, it felt cool, chilly even – and it felt good to be out of the rain.
