Its A Matter Of Attitude

Ever since my return to the U.S., I had flipped to a new page in my life. I had resolved that there was no point about being melancholic about life. At one point in my life, I used to embrace melancholy, just as this mysterious feeling would envelop the literature of Pamuk and Poe. A multitude of homesickness, detatchment from society, a profound chasm with reality had all led me to dig a hole in my life and hide in it. I found myself losing self confidence and morale.

What was perpetuating all of this? After some introspection, I realized that it was just a matter of attitude. I was taking life a tad bit too seriously. I was like a scholar who was driven by dissatisfaction with the status quo and who was on a mission to seclude himself from everything to learn about life in the books. Well, I realized that theory doesn't always convert to practice. This whole time, I was look at the empty half of the cup.

I realized that there is no need to keep searching for the answers to the questions of life any more. This may sound tremendously cliche, but if you look deep into your heart, your will find all that you seek. Each of us has a part of God inside us, and only ultimate bliss can originate from the source. There is a natural balance of happiness in life. What you lack in one aspect of life will inevitably show up in another part of life, so its better to just look at the bright side of things. It is unfortunate that there are somethings beyond our control, but all we can do is improve our present state of life and not necessarily stretch ourselves too thin by concerning ourselves with the problems of the world. Just seek for internal peace and you will achieve it.

Now that I have come to terms, the only thing that's left is to transform myself for someone who's trying to keep myself from melancholy to one who can sublimate his newfound bliss to prosperity, success, and glory. I think its like a rebirth. Once you start having faith, hope and motivation, a lot will change...its sort of the butterfly effect. Its a matter of appreciating what you have.

Obama, I'm Finally Listening

So the pessimist cynic in me was just waiting for this whole Obama fad to pass by so that we could return to reality. I remember sleeping through what will be deemed the most memorable moment of the decade, if not the century, the election of Barak Obama. While America was raving for their new prince charming president, I was busy reading some radical communist doctrine. I was sure nothing would change. Sure, America might better itself under Obama, but the world will remain in peril as long as America flexes, its muscles, I thought to myself. We of the Middle East, I thought to myself, are hopeless. America has its dogmatic neoconservative agenda, and it will carry it out regardless of who's in the white house. I was like the three monkeys, each of whom would either cover their eyes, close their ears, or shut their mouth. I was completely indifferent to what was going on regarding the elections. As a foreigner, I thought to myself, this is "their" election and it should concern me. Deep down inside, I was jealous that the Americans could enjoy such a sound electoral system, where as we, those of the Arab World, would never be able to enjoy such liberty in the near future.

At the same time, I had been thinking to myself, who out there could possible set a role model when it came to my future aspirations to lead? My admiration for the likes of Che Guevara, Nasser, Nekruma, Nehru, and other revolutionaries of the 20th centuries has not waned the slightest bit, but I have come to realize that their ideologies aren't necessarily compatible with today's times. So I looked around me...Sarakozy, Putin, and Gordon all seem like laughable jokes! Was this ideal that I'd been searching for all along before my eyes? Could it really have been the guy I'd been so skeptic about this whole time? Could it have been Obama?

I never really knew much about Obama or his beliefs as a politician. The revolutionist in me only paid attention to Obama whenever he was compared to having socialist tendencies. In any case, my thought was that he must be the lesser of the two evils when it came down to him running against McCain. I only started paying attention to how Obama's intentions truly aligned with mine when visiting Washington DC during the inauguration weekend. Never in my life had I seen so many people rally in the streets from one man. I thought the days of popular support for figures like Gandhi, as one can still see in the black and white documentaries, were long gone. I was proven wrong on the 18th of January when walking across the national monumental "Mall" in Washington DC.For the pre-Inauguration party that I attended with several friends who study in DC, I had never in my life seen so many people from so many different walks of life, creeds, and ethnicities come together to celebrate one man. The Lincoln memorial was like the colosseum Rome, with trumpets horning to celebrate the glory of an empire. After some entertaining shows put on by U2, Beyonce, Usher, and Shakira came the moment the million or so people had been waiting for, Obama's oration .

Obama's reference to America's ancestors is a clear reminder of the foundations on which this empire is founded. He gives the Americans purpose of existence, hope, motivation, and inspiration for this country to move forward. It is this nationalism and values of freedom and equality that American is built on, which Obama reminds Americans where they came from. He reminds America of its ingenuity, innovativeness, prosperity, and grandeur that is incomparable in the world. This is the power of America that can prove to be an unprecedented in history. Could America's ability to renew itself, to repeat a renaissance every couple of decades, prove to be essential to allow this empire to never face a decline or collapse as every other empire in history has experienced?

Obama has inspired me. I am not another political sheep who follows the herd, but after hearing Obama live and feeling the energy in the crowd, I am convinced that an idealist revolutionary is now in the rightly crowned the most powerful man in the world. He gives hope and motivation to all to strive to defy reality to fulfill the ideal. I am convinced that this is a new era that every human being should look forward to, that the world's leading superpower is now steering a new course than the one it has led for the past decade. I am optimistic. Even if Obama can't go through with all of his promises, I am convinced that his mere aura is one that gives hope to revive a nation and a world. I am inspired that if we can import this inspiration and hope from a country like America to the Arab World that we can bring about justice, egalitarianism, and a reason for the oppressed to rise and stand up for their rights. Finally, by lending an ear to an inspiration to Obama, I myself am inspired to work for a better future for me, for Egypt, and for the world.

The Reader

It was the around 9pm on the 17th of January that I made another one of the realizations worth noting in a blog entry. The realization of the fact that reading means experiencing, means living, means breathing. There is no way to experience the 5 sense without living the lives that reading has to offer. 

I just completed watching The Reader in a Georgetown theater. I can attest that this is a movie that I want to remain in my memory as one of the moments I cherished, like the a sugar cube that one whirls around their tongue until it gradually dissolves. I don't think I'd ever sympathized with a fictional character as much as I had with Hannah Schiller. To the illiterate, who cherishes knowledge, illiteracy is worse than being handicapped. The sense of touching a book, but being unable to read it can be petrifying. Being unable to read is similar to being unable to speak, hear, or even feel. 

I don't think that it is possible to experience one of the most important emotions of life with out reading, the emotion of loving. This reminds me of the novel, The Old Man Who Read Love Stories, which makes one appreciate the access to the world of reading, an unboundless world of creativity. I love reading and I am fortunate for my literacy more than I've ever been. 

Although The Reader is a bitter, sweet, dark, harsh, and painful delight to experience, I recommend that you watch it. It will change the way you look at the simple things in life. It will make you appreciate what you take for granted. You will realize how empowered you are by being good at something as simple as merely as reading. I never thought I was good at anything until I realized that I was good at reading. The Reader will teach you how one must strive to pursue his passion of life, even if it is as simple as the task of reading. Some may use reading for futile, busy, silly work, such as drinking something as dull as beer, or for enlightening themselves, such as drinking something as exhilirating as divine wine. The point is, you can use the same cask for drinking two diametrically opposite drinks, its a matter of making the most out of what you have. 

The Travels of the Egyptian Marco Polo

Since returning from Inner Mongolia, I haven't really had the opportunity to sit down with a good cup of tea to reflect about what was truly an eye opening experience. Although my visit to China this vacation had taken me to Beijing, Shen Zhen, Hong Kong, Macau, Zhu Hai, Guangzhu, and Hohhot, all of which are some of China's largest metropolises, I don't think any of these cities sufficed in showing me the traditional side of China I had been craving to see. I was curious to see how the traditional Chinese person lived, what he ate, where he slept, how we spent time with the family and friends, what he did in the bitter cold of the north of China, how he reacted to a foreigner... These were amongst some of the questions that my sense of curiosity was eager to find out.

I was truly fortunate that the opportunity presented itself in the last week of my stay in China. After returning to Beijing from my trip to the south of China, I had been passing time shopping, reading, spending time with the family, writing, but I realized that during this whole time, I wasn't experiencing China. Then, luckily, my good friend Xiaohuan and his family invited me to their village in Inner Mongolia. After accepting their cordial invitation, I felt that I was Marco Polo embarking on a journey to the ends of the world to experience exotic distance lands where I might come across treasures and miracles. This was obviously my exaggerated imagination taking me on an unrealistic adventure, but now I realize that the rewards of this trip truly did contain treasures of friendship and miracles of realizing that no matter where people lived, be it on the eastern end of the Orient in China or the western end in Egypt, people essentially had the same needs, emotions, and love for one another. These conclusions that I had come to had comforted my heart in a time when humanity can really show its dark side via financial crises, wars, etc...

After my first night in Xiaohuan's village, I remember writing in my diary "Never in my life have I been treated so hospitably and graciously as I have today by Xiaohuan's family." This was only an excerpt from the many impressions I had of living with a Chinese family for a couple of days. During my visit to Inner Mongolia, I had tasted the most delicious food ever, such as lamb dumplings, and tasted some of the finest green tea of my life.

What was truly interesting was the reception of the villagers to a foreigner. I believe that a foreigner hadn't set foot in some of the villages surrounding Xiaohuan's house in a very long time, so I wasn't surprised when some of the townspeople would stare at me for extended periods of time. People were anxious to see this alien from Egypt. Almost everyone I met asked me questions about my country, which seemed to them to be at the other end of the world.

Of course, my traditional Chinese experience didn't go without sight seeing to some of the most fabulous places in Inner Mongolia. Unfortunately we were unable to see some of the beautiful grass lands because it wasn't the appropriate time of the season, but what we did see was more than sufficient to make it up. Xiaohuan was very culturally considerate to take me to a Muslim restaurant upon my visit.
The most intriguing think I was exposed to must have been the milk tea, which was very tasty but very new to me. We then went to a Buddhist temple that convinced me that Buddhism is a very lively and colorful religion.

We also visited the Zhaojun museum, which showed me the prehistoric side of China's history. Although it was almost -8 degrees celsius as made our tour, I truly enjoyed seeing what was in Hohhot.

The next day was truly a revelation for me to see a side of China I never fathomed existed. we visited some of th poor villages in Inner Mongolia where people lived a very harsh life. These run down villages reminded me of the poverty I had seen in Egypt and India. Moreover, due to the financial crisis, these people lived under really dire circumstances. The was malnutritioned animals and unsold corn harvest. Upon experiencing this side of China, I was grateful to God for my comfortable life.

We also visited China's famous yellow river. It was truly a beautiful sight seeing a frozen stream still flowing in the bright sun.


I would have to say that the highlight of the trip was by far the farewell dinner I had. Xiaohuan's family had invited many of their acquaintances to a dinner to bid me farewell. There was a live performance and Xiaohuan and his sister even sang to me!

I have just given you, dear reader, an excerpt of the many chronicles of my adventures in the far land of Inner Mongolia. I leave the rest of my adventures to imagine based on your own curiousity so that maybe one day when I become a famous traveler like Marco Polo and my travelogue is published, you may find out the rest of my adventures (hehe!).

In any case, if there is anything that was truly worth getting out of this trip, it was the amiable friendship I have with Xiaohuan and the people of China.

The Cartoon Revolution

Ever since writing my old post (i.e. A Voice for The Arab World) on Carlos Latuff, the Brazilian political cartoonist, I had started corresponding the artist himself to express my admiration for his cause and his art. I was ecstatic when Carlos replied to me to thank me for comparing him to the likes of Guevara and Nasser for voicing the plight on behalf of the oppressed and speaking out against injustice.

As the current crisis in Gaza is escalating, I am saddened to see the world stand by in idleness as more than a thousand Palestinians have been killed. My sympathy for the Palestinians is not one out of my Arab identity, but one out of the fact that I am a human and cannot stand blind as such a humanitarian genocide takes place. It is in this light that I believe that every human who has emotions should take action, no matter how minuscule his or her impact may be, to put an end to the war in Gaza and bring about Peace in the Middle East. I know that it starts with us, the new generations of the Middle East to bring about any peace and justice. It is for this reason that I have joined the Students for Peace and Justice in Palestine organization here at the university. I and Assad are heading the Publicity initiative to raise awareness by puttying up fliers to keep university students informed of the latest news regarding the crisis. I truly hope that our efforts will make some sort of impact.

Tying this back in with my correspondence with Carlos, the artist encouraged me to spread his work. He informed me that "my art is your art". It is this selfless spirit that will allow us to achieve our dream of bringing about justice in the region. Especially in a country like the US where ignorance tends to be prevalent, I think it is imperative that everyone one who is informed carry out their share of duty to inform those who are ignorant. In the words of Carlos,

"I beg you reader, my brothers and sisters-in-arts, to spread these cartoons. Reproduce them in posters, newspapers, magazines, zines, blogs, everywhere. Let's make the voice of the Gaza people to be heard all around the world."

Likewise, I encourage everyone to do all that they can to raise awareness regarding this issue, even if with a cartoon, to bring about an information revolution that can bring about justice about the genocide taking place in Gaza.

For more of Latuff's artwork, check out: http://tales-of-iraq-war.blogspot.com/
For more artwork to raise awareness about the current situation: http://www.gazaresist.com/

Lovin' My New Shogun

I'd always wished for a road bicycle, but for some reason, I'd never thought that I would end up with one. Upon coming to UVa, I realized that bicycles were an indispensable means of transportation for getting around. Since I still had not acquanted myself with the biker lifestyle, I said I'd take it easy at first as an amateur biker and then upgrade from then on. So, my first bike was a $20 foldable bike that I carried in a suitecase from China. The sight of this bike was laughable and it was always a good joke for my friends to laugh at me when riding it! Whenever anyone would hear the name "Mostafa," they would automatically associate it with the "little" bike from China. Actually, its quite interesting, because after being the first person to ride this bike, I have seen the number of little foldable bikes multiply around campus.

After realizing the need to upgrade after my second year at UVa, I went with a couple of friends to Community Bikes to build my own bike for free. We literally assembled the bike from scratch, customizing the tires, wheels, chains, gears, brakes...everything! Although I took pride in this newly built bike of mine, it was falling apart as I was riding it. Unfortunately, half way through my first semester of my third year, I got in a pretty bad accident in which I had road rashes all over. That's when I realized that I ought to invest the money in something safe!

My old bike parked outside of Community Bikes

Finally, the opportunity presented itself and I purchased the Shogun, which is a sweet little bike for getting around town. I was thinking about buying a car before buying the Shogun, but now I don't think I'll be riding anything but my Shogun. Other than its comfortable ride, I truly enjoy its bright and unique color! What's more, the guy who sold me the bike was nice enough to give me a free lock with it. I can't wait to start riding this bike to classes. This is definitely a nice way to start of my semester!

My new bike, the Shogun

The Art of Chinese Tea

After spending almost a month here in China, I have come to realize that the consumption of green tea is both an art and a lifestyle that is unmatched anywhere else in the world. Luckily for me, my taste buds are akin to the exasperating taste of tea. As I have found out from a Chinese friend, and after doing some reading, the history of Chinese tea is not one that merely satisfies the Chinese, but is ingrained in an ancient philosophy of their way of life, i.e. the philosophy of Qi Gong, which is an art and science of natural energy.

Obviously I knew the difference between green, black, and herbal tea, but never realized that the richness of the tea can vary to various degrees. It was a realization I made when my Chinese friend, Xiaohuan offered me tea from the Yunan province, told to be some of the rarest and most precious tea offered in China. I realized that the aroma, color and taste of the tea all played a role in giving one the pleasure of tea. I was later informed that the cultivation of tea is an art in China. The climate, the soil, the quality of cultivation, and the degree of fermentation all determine the kind of tea one can be sipping. Evidently, green tea is tea in its purest tea as it is mostly unfermented, while black tea is the result of fermented green tea. I was actually shocked to find out that both black and green tea originate from the same plant, i.e. camellia sinensis.

Tea's quality doesn't matter only for aesthetic or flavor reasons, but has a long history. Tea is a natural form of Chinese medicine. Each type of tea, according to Chinese legend, has its own energy level according to the Qi Gong philosophy. Xiaohuan's father once informed me that it is advisable to drink black tea in the winter and green tea in the summer to balance our internal and external temperature levels.

On another level, tea has spiritual benefits and has long been used by Buddhists for meditation. I truly have experienced tea's mood altering effects. Believe me, some incense and tea can be the ultimate stress reliever.

Personally, I enjoy my cup of tea to be bitter in flavor by not adding any sugar to it. I am not sure whether it is a habit to taste the meloncholic life that I sometimes love to embrace or whether its merely my taste buds craving to taste tea in its most original form. From experience, I can attest that tea helps one become serene, bright, and healthy. What I truly tend to savor about tea is the company of friends and family I will be enjoying this tea. Tea is an excellent way to share harmony, peace, and tranquility with others.

While reading some Taoist texts, I happened to cross upon a poem about tea that I tremendously enjoyed.

In gratitude for a gift of fresh tea

The first bowl moistens my lips and throat;
The second bowl banishes all loneliness;
The third bowl clears my mind of words and books.
At the fourth cup, I begin to perspire-
life's troubles evaporate through my pores.
The firth cup cleanses my entire being.
Six cups and I am in the realm of the Divine.
Seven cups-ah, but I can drink no more:
I can only feel the gentle breeze blowing through my sleeves,
wafting me away to the Isle of Immortality!

-Lu Tong, 18th Century Chinese Poet

"Word Painting"

Word seem to trickle from my mind onto the screen like a god sparkling stars in the heavy velvet sky. It is in this essence that I have recently learned of a new writing technique that goes by the name of word painting. In my quest to excel as a writer, I have been seeking alternative forms of the art of writing, similar to an artist experimenting with realism, modernism, impressionism, in an endeavor to best suite his style.

Word painting is a technique similar to oil painting on a canvas but in an analogy a means to ferment our ideas and impressions on the beauty of a certain concept on paper. This is the backbone of all great works that allows the writer to divulge, in deep description about his deepest feelings. Novelists tend to manifest these innermost emotions through the personalities and personas of their fictional characters just as a painter might bring out the beauty of a scenery before his eyes.

At times, we find that our descriptions of certain impressions don't do justice to explain how we really feel. Its not the same as providing your reader the body language and gestures that you might try to convince to a reader of a certain feeling. Simply said, its not the same as a "face to face" conversation with the reader. It is thus imperative to word paint to bring across to your reader the true essence behind what your aim to convey.

Every human is innately an artist. Every human is capable of word painting. It is merely required of every human to search in the deepest of his abysses for the true meaning of his emotions to dig out the right words as if they are unpolished gems and make them shine with the forces of adjectives, adverbs, transition phrases, and descriptors that will make the read as free flowing and colorful as water painting.

When writing of a certain idea or emotion, be specific, inquire as to what it is you really feel. Ask yourself what, where, why, when, and how your may be feeling the way you do. Be concise, avoid redundancy, analyze your emotions, visualize and feel what your are saying. Your words are a representative of yourself. Wouldn't your want to put yourself in the spotlight among other writers and have others appreciate your work as a form of art? Otherwise our writing becomes a chain of phrases, idioms, and expressions that are cliche and borrowed from popular culture outlets, such as films, songs, and other un-intellectual outlets of the entertainment industry. Hence, be original!

Not only does word painting explore our psychological subconscious of how we perceive the world, it opens the reader's eyes to new dimensions of impressions and emotions. We can experience new moods of elation through mere descriptions, such as visualizing vast, lush, green meadows with dew forming droplets of cool, refreshing water on the meadow lining the hill's body like the scales of a slumbering dragon. Visualize the imagery and feel the mood of awe that such a silly statement that can give you. Through such descriptions, we don't only inform the reader of the insight behind the subject matter, but enlighten ourselves as to what moved us and why it did the way it did.

I recently attended an art exhibition celebrating the 30 years of reform in China, where I say several artists with a pen and paper in hand sketching figures and details that inspired from the paintings of the galleries. This reminded me of the time I'd gone to Ataturk's museum in Turkey when I would carry my diary and pen around and "water paint" how I felt towards certain articles of possession, achievements, and inspiring traits of the modern founder of a Turkey. In a sense, I was water painting in an effort to attempt to emulate such a great leader's achievements, with hopes of instilling such impressions upon myself so that I may, one day, when given the opportunity, seek to bring about similar reform in myself, my community, my nation, and my world. Since then, I have carried out this tradition in museums so that I could benefit of the impressions that were drawn, carved, welded, written by the generations of the past. It is through word painting that we can record our impressions in certain circumstances and carry them with us through time to the future. Also through the process of word painting, we are drawn back to past times with the stimuli of smells, sounds, and feelings that allow us to drawn upon our past experiences to record our present condition to influence our future moods. Writing ties together past, present, and future phases of our lives through the mere phrases that define our word painting. It is in this spirit that I am able to visit the Mostafa of the past and talk to the Mostafa of the future.

I dedicate this entry to someone who taught me, but I never had the opportunity to express my deepest gratitude for bestowing me with this fruitful passion that keeps me awake in the late hours of every night. Thank you Dr. Henderickson, my IB English professor. Although you were strict and critical, you opened the world of writing to me, a world that I could spend a thousand lifetimes wandering in. I am forever grateful. Let this be a follow up manifesto towards my journey to develop and hone the skills of a writer.

On the Exoticism of the Orient

Since my arrival to China, I have observed many similar traits that transcend the borders of what has come to identified as the Orient. These traits have been observed, imagined, and recorded by Western Orientalists. Through my readings of oriental works ranging from Gustav Flaubert to Edward Said, I have come to the conclusion that there is a intricate entanglement between fact and fiction of the Oriental world. During my readings of my part of the world and that of the Far East, which I have been trying to familiarize myself with even more, I was astounded to see that there is a truly exotic flavor to what the orient truly is. Through my literary journeys with Flaubert, Delacroix, Voltaire, Defoe, Goethe and even Pamuk, I have come to identify some sources of this multifaceted identity of the Orient that has come to intrigue some of the greatest philosophes to walk this earth.

Before divulging into my findings, I would like to make two points clear. Primarily, my investigation of the Oriental world should not be confused with Edward Said's criticism of Western stereotypes of the Arab and Muslim world, but is an embracement of the literary and artistic achievement of Western philosophers in emulating the virtues they witnessed on their travels to the region. The second point is that although I will aim to extend my investigation to reach the furthest corners of the Oriental World, from Turkey in the Far West of the Orient and China in the Far East of the Orient, my bias will tend to drift to a focus on the center of the Orient, Egypt.

It is in this spirit that I will strive to romanticize the land of the Orient by exploring the various avenues that it has led to occupied in the fantasies of Orientalists for many centuries. First and foremost, Orientalism is a result of the mutual cultural exchange between the West and East and the apprehensions each of of sides had of the other. Various artistic and literary emulations of the East have ranged from Turquerie to Chinoiserie, which respectively are imitations of Turkish and Chinese art forms in the West. I can divulge about Montesquieu's Persian Letters or Van Gogh's emulation of Japanese art, which both seem tremendously exotic to me, but instead I choose focus on land that, although dubbed oriental, doesn't seem to exotic in my eyes, mostly because of my ardent familiarization with it. Although the exotism of Egypt "as a distant land" doesn't quite appeal to me, its ancient history is one that boggles my mind. How could single land have hosted some of history's renown men and women, face so many cultural changes, influence the world and be influenced in so many ways and yet retain such a firm identity. This mere notion excites me with the exoticism of my homeland and fills me with expansive, lovely, glorious, poetic dreams of a land that seems so exotic even though I can claim right to calling it my own. These are the stimuli that exoticism have on one!

Flaubert was once quoted by characterising the orient with a single phrase:
"Long live the sun, long live the orange trees, palm trees, lotus flowers, and cool pavilions paved with marble and wood-panelled chambers that talk of love! the Orient with her burning sun, her blue skies, her golden minarets, her caravans through the sand, the tanned, olive skin of Asiatic women-the Orient!"

The imagery of this single quote is what fills my imagination like a pot filling a cask of cool mint tea on a sunny day in the desert. Reading of the orient quenches my thirst for exoticism, for the desire to continue living and traveling in oriental lands.

Now the Orient isn't just the beauty that the European romanticists depict to be, it is also the dreggy slums and backstreets of Cairo and Istanbul, but I have come to admire the dust and filth as a characteristic that defines the Orients modern day melancholic condition as Pamuk recounts in his memories of Istanbul. I could sit in the midst of the chaos in Khan El Khalili bazaar for hours on end and embrace and appreciate the shouting of the sales bakaals, the multilingual bargaining of merchants with what seem to us as exotic blonde foreigners, the Athan broadcasted above the minarets of El Huessain Mosque, the various aromas of the spice market, the colors of the various Chinese silk and Egyptian cotton garments, the moaning of donkeys, the sparkling lights of the Sufi night shows. Isn't this the colorful clamor that defines the Orient? Isn't the legendary Silk Road the bond that defines the fraternity of the Eastern cultures?

I understand that you may be wondering where this entry is going to take me... but that is another trait of the orient: the fluid, non-structured, and eclectic stream of conscious that might seem heretic to the orthodox mind. The chaos that defines the orient is the natural tendency for life to be all over the place, to be natural, free from the man-made structures and systems that we constrained the freedom of life to flow. Orientalism is the realization that life is the water that flows with volatility when shattering a glass filled with water. Tidiness and neatness disgust the orientalist as he seeks the natural tendency of life! We cannot deny that humans are not the divine, G0d-made creatures that we always envision them to be in their best light, but they are also animals that can be reckless and wild, and the Orient is the epitome of the jungle that defines the freedom for their imagination to flow. This best evident in the arts of Tunisian tiles where flowers, fruits, and nature are intricately intertwined to produce master pieces of art. Moreover, Persian poetry, which is so light and free flowing is what paints these images in words that can allow each individually to paint such imagery with his or her own imagination.

Moreover, the orient is a land where duality is defines the nature of people with an acceptance of the glorious palaces while the witness of the poor and filthy, a history of several milenia while the latest trend setting sky scrapers of the modern cities, the sexual fantasies of the harem and the purity and sacredness of religion, and so on and so forth. It is this duality that makes the Orient so bewildering to the Western mind. How could a culture have such diametrically opposite directions of aims.

To this day, the orient boggles our mind with a vast array of historical novels, films, photos, paintings, etc... Fortunately I can relive this exotic world of the orient through my readings and travels and see what remains of what truly fascinated the Western travelers that came to be known as the Orientalists. I sincerely hope that my fortune to travel and read such an expansive array of works will enlighten me and allow me to carry the torch that has shed such positive light on the Orient in what seem to be the Orient's dark times of today.

A Voice For The Arab World

With the recent crisis in Gaza, I think we all have been looking for a voice that can express our unified feelings. Who would have ever though that we can find this voice on the sandy beaches of Rio De Janeiro? Yes, it is the Brazilian Carlos Latuff that has best voiced the Arab's revolt to the barbarism and terrorism of the war.

I was just reading an article from an excellent paper, called el-badeel (i.e. the alternative) that featured an interview with Latuff and the story behind his caricatures. In it, he expresses how he, as a child, admired cartoons, preferred crayons for his birthdays, and how he has come to admire the struggle of the oppressed in the world, be them leftists, communists, or Muslims.

His main message in his latest cartoons has been that the Arab governments are truly subjected to the iron fisted domineering subjugation of Washington and how this is both an opportunity and responsibility for the Arab masses to rise to the call and help of their brothers in Palestine. It is a historical opportunity for unite and rally around a just cause, i.e. the rescue of the a mistreated people. It seems like the international community has fallen silent because of its apprehension to Zionism or its plainly fed up of what seems to be a hopeless conflict that has dragged on for over half a century.

Latuff has been an ardent supporter and voice to the Palestinian struggle for a century now, after visiting the West Bank in 1999 which led him on a spree to raise awareness of the struggle through his animation and caricatures. Although I have some reservations on how he sometimes portrays Egypt as a contributor to the crisis, I respect his revolutionary zeal for freely expressing himself regardless of the consequences and how his mere messages could potentially unite a currently fragmented nation, i.e. the Arab nation.

Inspirational interview conducted with Latuff: http://www.flickr.com/photos/benheine/392945926/
Latuff's website:
http://www.latuff2.deviantart.com/

Photography: For the Love of Beauty

Gently stabilizing my camera for another perfect shot, the question that has bugged me since I purchased my camera ran through my head once more: why do we photograph? While in Hong Kong, a city where everyone sports the latest DSLR cameras, the question became more pertinent then ever.

After reflecting upon this question for sometime, it hit me: we photograph for the love of beauty. Now this may sound like a lofty statement, but hear me out. I could never quite understand why I would at times be a frantic photographer when experiencing a new scenery, such as the exotic south of China. During my trip to the south, I felt my excessive photography was hindering my enjoyment of this truly beautiful part of the world. Then I realized that I was in a hurry to photograph what I could because I wanted to own this part of the world. I wanted a token of memory, a souvenir, to remind me that I was in this part of the world and it truly moved me. My photograph is evidence that I loved the scenery's beauty and thus, with the click of a shutter, I claimed ownership to the beauty it entailed.

I guess my hurry to photograph all that I could was a result of the anxiety of potentially losing this beauty that was before my eyes, that I could potentially never in my life see again. Moreover, this photograph would be a stark reminder that if I truly hoped to possess this beauty, then I would have to work hard to own it, by potentially returning to it. Although photography in of itself is a superficial activity that doesn't one to truly understand the history and story behind a scenery, it is late at night, in one of my nostalgic moments, when flipping through my photos, that I scrutinize my photos, research the story behind them, interpret them in my thoughts and writing, that I come to truly embrace the beauty of my photography (i.e. beauty in the eyes of the beholder, of course).

A famous artist and photography, John Ruskin, was once quoted for saying "Photography taken by this vivid sunlight are glorious things. It is very nearly the same thing as carrying off a palace by itself-every chip of stone and stain is there." It is in this very spirit that we can carry back a monument or relic that we can come to own, appreciate, and love its beauty through our own eyes, which is captured through the lens of a camera.

Even the emperors of the palaces that we visit may never witness, or even conceive, of the beauty that we might capture through our photography. Who knows if the sun will ever decline again in that angle from which you capture it. Will conditions permit that we every witness beauty at its prime again. What if there's no tomorrow? Its is through photography that we can freeze time and take a snapshot of a fraction of time that the cosmos may never bring around again.

As Gene McSweeney would say in Grey Water Photography:

"We try to grab pieces of our lives as they speed pas us. Photographs freeze those pieces and help us remember how we were."

On Passion

Sometimes I find myself doing the irrational for reasons beyond my comprehension or that of others. Its an addiction that will keep you up till the sun rise. I discovered that the underlying catalyst that keeps us going is passion. Temperament, the environment, and luck all play a role in determining our success in a certain field, but the underlying element that proves who ascends is passion. It is the courageous heart, in which passion lives, that will determine our fate. Although society requires that we conform, it is the mavericks, revolutionaries, those who take risks, those who argue and question logic that the established order. When pursuing your passion against all odds, even when others shun it, it is similar to pursuing your dreams. I look around me everyday and see those who thrive the most and are most blissful are those who are free to pursue their passion regardless of how high the hurdles may stand. There is a high price to have the freedom to pursue one's passions. One must be ready to endure the criticism and animosity from the established system. It is when we are terrified that we must conjure valor. People may question our absurdity, we may live a life of misery like the likes of van Gogh and Galileo, but it is so worth the suffering in the case where we might ignite a spark of ingenuity that may forever enrich humankind. So no matter how high the mountains that may stand in our way, have a warrior's heart for your energy and skill may be one of the many building blocks of other humans just like yourself that, once realizing their passion, may revolutionize the world.