Despair

He sits hunched over in a straight-backed chair, scarred hands and knuckles buried in his china blue eyes as if he never wanted the salty tears to flow. The course faded grey uniform is too loose against his already emaciated form. The metallic silver of the walls around him clang in argument while fellow mental patients chatter in cadence in a monotonous and incessant calm. He wants to let loose a thousand tears onto the hard floor; he wants to fling himself against the nearest exit to the outside world, and he wants to plunge a hand into his chest and tear out his frayed yet still beating heart. However, he cannot. The form beside him chants in a derisive falsetto, “the painter, oh the painter, the painter who cannot speak.” The ringing echo of these words leaps around the meticulously bleached room and he sinks deeper into his reverie. Like a dying flower among dandelions, he feels the effects of those surrounding him. They have no idea who he was, what he is capable of, for they only see him as another shapeless form crashing into oblivion. They are all the same here. The man’s chant continues to mock him as the unbearable irony descends upon him, and a shadow envelops the sun. He peers through his raw fingers down at his unlaced shoes, hoping to see the familiar brown boots he wears when he is home. Now, however, the sharp voices haltingly ring back into his head, reminding him of his intolerable internment. He traces his hands and bitten fingernails across his eyes to rub out any remnants of sorrow, refusing to give in to a feeling that would only lead to penetrating questions. He slowly rises, trudging past the embodiments of his agony, the mental patients. He moves past the unsympathetic, unloving, and uncomprehending doctors. Down the whitewashed hall is his cell, which the doctors call a “temporary home.” Here he finds no solace in sleep or isolation, as they only intensify his incomprehensible state of mind. Despite this fact, the cell is the only real place he can express all of his bound emotions; he can paint now. He can make light and shape come to life with pure emotion, yet “speaking” is not seen this way by anyone in this wretched place. It hardly matters what he feels, but rather to the doctors if is able to tell them the reasons why he was put in this institution. But for the moment he can blissfully forget all of this. He reaches down to pick up the washed brushes that have fallen and strokes them absentmindedly, already searching for something to paint. His mind whirls as he works, drowning out the calls and shrieks down the hall in other cells; thankful to be left quietly alone to his work, even if it is that of a madman. In this painting, he will represent the poignancy of his condition as he sees it, through himself. It will be called “The Threshold of Eternity,” he decides. The figure will sit in a stark room devoid of furniture or home comforts - save for a fireplace. He paints him sitting on a hard, practical chair not designed for comfort and his posture screams out for help. He will be hunched over, silently crying out, waiting for an eternity to cease. His hands will be in fists and clenched to his eyes as to prevent the world from entering his field of vision. The cold empty landscape of the room suggests the psychological mood of the painter himself, on the verge of falling. Again, the unbearable irony of his state of being sinks into the painter, he recalls his parting words to his brother Theo, “After all, we can only make our pictures speak.” Pondering these words, he looks up and searches the dark sky. He is troubled to see that he cannot find the comforting brightness of the moon. But the painting is complete.
A dusty road dissects endless fields of wheat flanked by distant trees. A black bird, startled by the rattling sound of an old paint box, darts into the sky and disappears out of sight. Tall grass and wild flowers sway in the warm breeze that penetrates the bright sunlight of a summer day in the French countryside. The sky is punctuated with wispy clouds that resemble floating brush strokes on a pale blue canvas. At his favorite painting site, Vincent van Gogh quietly sits before a partially finished canvas, dipping and stirring his brush into a rich palette of oils. Today appears not unlike any other day; the morning walk to the fields, painting the landscape before lunch and later capturing the warm afternoon light. However, on this day, Vincent Van Gogh would paint for the last time. It would be his final tribute to the world.

Bob Dylan, Mohsen Namjoo

A while back a comparison was made between Bob Dylan, and Mohsen Namjoo, a controversial figure in Persian music today. His lyrics discuss growing up in an Islamic state while reflecting the "frustrations and dillusionment" of Iranians. In this way he is very similar to Bob Dylan in the early 1960s, who also wrote acerbic lyrics into the heart of the issues of the day such as civil rights and the corruption of the government.

In a song called "Neo-Kanti," Namjoo sings that "what belongs to us is an apologetic government. What belongs to us is a losing national team." Here he can only be referring to the nation's national soccer side. Most music was banned after the 1974 Islamic Revolution, and only religious and rebellious songs were allowed. Today women are still not allowed to sing.

I found it intriguing that the government of Iran today does not allow Namjoo to receive a license to release his CD, and it is even hard for him to perform publically. Yet he still does. Both he and Bob Dylan believe that controversy and danger both facilitate in some manner what they speak for. In a sense, any attention towards the subject, whether good or bad, puts their country and its actions under the spotlight. As long as someone can expose the feelings of the people to the world.

Taliban Fanaticism Not Typical of Islam

I left out a key element in my last entry about the Buddhas of Bamiyan, and that is that Laila visited the statutes after the Taliban destroyed them. In a very controversial sequence of events, the Taliban decided to blow up these exceedingly valuable and ancient relics of the past. But it would seem that the issue is much more than such cold-blooded destruction. At face value it is an act of pure religious intolerance and vandalism, but after reading more about the event I found opinions and statements that cannot be left out.

According to UNESCO Director Koichiro Matsuura, a meeting of ambassadors from the Organization of the Islamic conference was conducted regarding the Buddhas. All members protested saving the monuments, including the three nations that officially recognized the Taliban, Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, and the United Arab Emirates. At this point I was wondering, it this a purely religious issue, or was it a reaction against the international community to want to destroy these monuments? I found out after more reading:

Taliban Ambassador Sayed Rahmataullah Hashemi said destruction was carried out after a Swedish monument expert proposed to restore the statute's heads, because the statues were in desperate need of repair. This was the Ambassador's explanation:

"When the Afghani head council asked them to provide the money

to feed the children instead of fixing the statutes they refused and

said, 'no the money is just for the statutes, not for the children.'"

Of course this man is biased in his statement and his words must be taken with perspective, but his argument was very clear. The world cares not for the Afghans dying of hunger but instead of non-living objects such as the Buddha statutes.

As another side to this argument, I found this statement to be extremely relevent: Intolerance is not a Muslim failing but a human one. When people think of Islam they more often than not think of the Taliban and transfer their feelings to the whole of Islam. The part becomes the whole. And yet fanaticism is not unique to Islam just as it is not typical of Islam either. For example, in the 7th and 8th centuries, Christian religious fanatics were destroying "infidel" statutes and pictures in the Byzantium Empire. The logic is the same as today: if we do exactly as what we think God wants us to do, then maybe these terrible things will stop happening to us. That is not to say that Christians and Muslims are entirely blameless in destroying such important pieces of the world's history, because each are prejudiced in their own ways.

Wahhabi religious authorities in Saudi Arabia have been eradicating remnants of pre-Islamic religions practices as well, since 1820, when they destroyed 12th century statutes of Dhu Khalasa, a pagan god. Yet I believe that people's lives are more than images and icons. There is only so much this destruction can go on, eventually all these remnants will be gone (though we should still try to protect them as long as possible). The Taliban cannot have failed to notice that blowing up the statutes focused more international attention on their country than all the years of war, all the lives snuffed out, and all the survivors who live today in misery. Though they are not exactly seeking help for the people they rule, they are humans all the same.

Sources: Japan Times, Times of India, The Chicago Tribune, The Washington Post

The Buddhas of Bamiyan

When I read A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini for the first time, I remember reading about the Buddhas of Bamiyan in Central Afghanistan, but it was not until now that I really undestood their significance (I loved The Kite Runner as well). The novel does a wonderful job portraying Afghanistan's most damaged and abused group: the women. It is a story of unlikely friendship, courage, hope, and self-sacrifice. Intertwined between the lives of Marriam and Rasheed is the story of Laila, a girl whose life is affected one day when she visits the Buddhas of Bamiyan with her father. That trip shapes the way she will cope with her future. One of the quotes that struck me the most was when she said "People shouldn't be allowed to have new children if they;d already given away all their love to their old ones."

I began to wonder what gigantic Buddhist statutes were doing in Afghanistan when I started to research. Central Afghanistan was strategically placed to thrive from the Silk Road that connected many many Asian nations. Bamiyan was a stopping point, the Kingdom of Kushun, whose people were responsible for carving wonders of this ancient world. It was a place where languages and religions, Buddhism, Hinduism, and Islam all coexisted.

To me it seems like the Buddhas of Bamiyan are a symbol of the evolution of Buddhism; they represent how Buddhism developed internally. This is because they reflect a major shift in Buddhism: at first Buddha was revered as a human figure and later he became a transcendent being and icon. The Buddhas capture this moment in time. In addition to this I connected the ambiguity of Buddism to these statutes, for Buddhism is shaped and seen in virtually every religion in Asia. Vairocana wrote that these Buddhas, "in whom the entire universe is encompassed and their immensity is made literal," can also be compared to Islam in many fashions. For instance, both are inclined to adopt and learn from other cultures and perhaps from their own faith as well. In the Qur'an a specific reference to other religions is made to epitomize this point: "I do not serve what you worship; not do you serve what I worship. You have your own religion and I have mine."

"A Good Woman"

I am reading a book called Iran Awakening by Shirin Ebadi, winner of the Nobel Peace Prize, and I found some striking similarities between sati and the oppression of women that is unfolding in Iran. Well, the subjugation of women has been ongoing for years thoroughout the Middle East and India, but in this case the practice of sati exposes the mindset behind the status quo.

Sati literally means "a good woman" in Hindi and to understand the practice one must first recognize it as a fundamental part of the Hindu tradition. A woman is first and foremost a part of her husband, who is to be regarded as a god-like figure. It is believed that self-immolation for the woman will guarantee both her family and seven future generations a place in Heaven; therefore, she is seen as a goddess in her community only after she commits the act. I believe that sati epitomizes the oppressive status of women in India. The propaganda by the media and community that represents sati as a symbol of the ideal Hindu woman, a "chaste devoted wife able to sacrifice her life for her husband" (Hunter 121) not only reduces the woman to a mere symbol of religion but in addition uses religion to validate the ignorance of millions of women. Women are left in the dark of their own rights as human beings, forced to live a life of self-denial, as part of the deeply embedded tradition.

In Iran Awakening Ebadi speaks of a similar horrific fate of women, only in this case self-immolation is chosen by the women themselves. As a statement of injustice and misery, many women in Iran decide to alight themselves. Here as well as in India, women are taught that it is their duty to cope; this is just how the world is. It is intriguing to me that after the Islamic Revolution in Iran, the suicide rate among women rose dramatically. Almost all deaths were by self-immolation. I asked myself, why in the world a woman would choose to die this way? I am convinced that it is a woman's way to force her people to confront the cruelty of her oppression. Otherwise, would it not be easier to overdose on pills in a dark room? The binding force in both of these countries and religions is the apparent subjugation of women in the name of religion. Even now in Iran, when women are allowed an education and thereby the possibility of a future beyond the home, they are still stuck when the time comes to get a job. Shirin Ebadi recalls that she was not allowed to practice as a judge even after going to law school. Women are given a new awareness of their rights but crude tools with which to advance them.

A Deeper Look Into the Practice of Sati in Hinduism

I was in the midst of the reading for Hinduism, specifically in Introduction to World Religions, and I came across the term sati two times during the reading. The first was a general statement, as sort of a back-up point to prove the author's previous point. It read, "Even practices such as sati have been extolled by fundamentalists..." (Partridge 163). The second instance was a tad more engaging: "Ram Mohan Roy's campaign against sati resulted in the banning of this practice" (Partridge 164). In both cases however, it never explained what sati was or why it was considered to be wrong. I researched what it was and found this article that goes deeper into the issue.

According to Hindu scriptures, a widow is required to mount the funeral of her dead husband and be cremated along with his corpse. If the husband dies at a distant place, the widow is nonetheless to be burned alive on a pyre by herself. A widow who burns herself to death this way is called sati. The guiding force to motivate Hindus to practice sati is the instructions given in their scriptures. Some of these are as given below [ 1 ]:
"It is proper for a woman, after her husband's death to burn herself in the fire with his copse; every woman who thus burns herself shall remain in paradise with her husband 35,000,000 years by destiny."
"The wife who commits herself to fames with her husband's copse shall equal Arundathi and reside in Swarga (heaven)."
"Accompanying her husband, she shall reside so long in Swarga as the 35,000,000 of hairs on the human body.
"As the snake-catcher forcibly drags the serpent from his earth, so bearing her husband [from hell] with him she enjoys heavenly bliss."
"Dying with her husband, she sanctifies her maternal and paternal ancestors and the ancestors of him to whom she gave her virginity."
"Such a wife adorning her husband, in celestial felicity with him, greatest and most admired, shall enjoy the delights of heaven while fourteen Indras reign."
"Though a husband had killed a Brahman, broken the ties of gratitude, or murdered a friend she expiates the crime."

I couldn't believe that this was under the subtitle, The status of women in modern Hinduism, as the banning of sati only came about in the 20th century. It is shocking . As Partride writes, Hindu mythology emphasized the image of a domesticated and subservient woman; figures such as Sita, the "virtuous and long-suffering" wife of Rama, were held up as precedents for all women. Even though modern Hindu women are in the workforce and are asserting their independence over the traditional family system, films such as Monsoon Wedding by Mira Nair capture the dilemmas of women even today. I watched the film a while ago and found minute ways in which Hinduism has reached into the daily lives of young women, even women who read Western magazines (Vanity Fair) and watch American television. Such women in the film constantly had the pressure of marriage by their joint families, and often joked about how the"virtuous virgin" look would please someone they were interested in. Among right-wing Hindu groups these films were very controversial.

Egyptian Football Players: What is Haram

This is an article that I found that I found intriguing partly because El Futbol es Vida for me, :) , but also it presents vital questions often forgotten in the football world. Such as, if all women were allowed to play the beautiful game, how many great footballers would we have? Infinitely more I am inclined to think.

Women’s Soccer, Egyptian Men, and What Is ‘Forbidden’
By Jeff Z. Klein
Tags: Al Jazeera, Egypt, Womens World Cup
It’s one thing to discuss the effect of women’s soccer on prevailing social attitudes in the United States or various countries in Europe or East Asia. But it’s quite another to consider how it affects attitudes in other parts of the world, where the rights of women can be more of a life-and-death matter.
In today’s Times, Michael Slackman reports from Egypt on the genital cutting of pre-adolescent girls, a widespread practice in that country that is encountering increasing opposition from activists and the government. One Egyptian government survey found that an astonishing 96 percent of Egyptian women had undergone the procedure, and Slackman and his photographer Shawn Baldwin found many men who proclaimed that they were in favor of it, or, as one tea shop owner put it, “We support circumcision!” As Slackman writes, “It is a challenge to get men to give up some of their control over women.”
Some of that same attitude is on display in this remarkable seven-minute Al-Jazeera report on women’s soccer in Egypt. As a women’s team practices on a city field, a male player nearby tells the camera: “If my fiancee wanted to play football, I would forbid her. I only respect men playing. It could also distract her from her home. In Egypt we believe the woman should look after the home.” Another says of a female player: “She cannot wear a headscarf and play. This is against religion. Football and sports are haram — forbidden.”
Reports like these remind us of the extra dimension to women’s soccer, one that men’s soccer does not have. In a lot of countries around the world, it takes guts simply to play the game in the first place. In those places, the sight of a woman on a soccer field, the very thought of it, is in itself subversive and dangerous. That’s an important thing to remember as we watch the Women’s World Cup and wonder, if girls everywhere were completely free to play, how many more great female footballers there would be.