Yet again, Karachi's come to a standstill. Petrol pumps are closed and attendance at office is thin but Mr. F and I don't really have an excuse coz we're a 15 minute drive from work :p
The last few days have been good Alhamdulilah. I attended a few iftars, made new friends and got some studying done. Work is blah... it's come to the point where my boss started avoiding me because he couldn't figure out anything for me to do! So i finally accosted him (GRE word :P) and had a heart-to-heart. He said look around, see what other people are doing and then let me know what you're interested in... I'll make it happen for you.
Problem is, there really isn't too much going on... everything's been kinda slow and I don't really have a finance background so they can't accommodate me there (even though they usually need more manpower). HR isn't my cup of tea either :(
Maybe I should just quit, start designing jewelry from home and hold exhibitions? (It's the cool new thing to do :p). Alternatively, I could just start a tuition center :p
Since I'll do anything to avoid studying for the GRE (making pancakes, cleaning out my cupboard and experimenting with eye make-up), I may as well pen down my thoughts for the day...
Slept at 1:00 am and woke up at 4:00 am to prepare Sehri, then I slept again after Fajr (around 5:30 am) and woke up again at 7:00 am to get ready to come to work. My schedule's been pretty messed up all of Ramzan and I haven't been able to break out of the vicious cycle. My dad bought me my ticket to Spain (that's like, the best present EVER!!!!). Thanks dad and I hope I'll be able to repay the favor some day... inshalah. I'm sorry I haven't been as attentive as I'd like to be but I want you to know, I'm always there for you...
Monday, January 10, 2011
Another 2 resignations today and a couple more expected at the end of the month. With the CEO gone and not enough work to do, company morale's pretty low these days.
Today, I went to Gizri during lunch break and bought flowers: orange roses and orange and white gladiolas. Then I went home, arranged them in a vase, changed the sheets, prayed dhuhr and returned to work.
Need to start working out... I can feel my thighs expanding under me when I sit :p
As 9th and 10th Muharram approaches, Karachi is slowly shutting down. All the major roads and markets are being patrolled by police vehicles. The city resembles a war zone and to and outsider, it would seem rather terrifying.
I'm looking forward to the long weekend although it will be pretty quiet. I'll probably try making this :). Another colleague turned in his resignation letter today...! Must be the season. I'm living off chocolate and hot milky coffee and acquiring tummy tires in the process :-P
Climate talks concluded in Cancun this week but they haven't received too much media attention... I guess most of us are actually hoping for a bit of warming this winter rather than worrying about cutting down CO2 emissions.
These days, mornings are slightly chilly and I've turned into a sloth :(. I set my alarm for 8:35 am (it's the bugle on the Nokia E5) and press snooze until Mr. F politely informs me that he's ready to leave... Then, I jump out of bed, put on some clothes and proceed to do my hair and makeup in the car which irritates my poor husband no end...
Since I'm still without a supervisor, work is pretty slow. I'm mostly surfing the net and finishing up grad school applications. Here's the essay question for Kennedy School: "Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country" (I need to write a 1,000 words for it... any suggestions would be most welcome :)).
Since the only other females in the office are on leave, I have no one to eat lunch with :(. A new girl will be joining in Jan but she'll be reporting to Mr. F... majorly awkward! She can't bitch about her boss to me (which is what most people do during lunch and I can't be myself either). Plus, they'll be traveling together, working on fun projects while I'm bored at work (ok, so maybe I'm a little jealous).
Hua hai go tand-o-tez lekin charagh apna jala raha hai
woh mard-o-derwesh jiss to haq ne diyay hain andaaz-o-khusrwanah
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
I'm sitting in my office cubicle sipping mango Splash dreaming of times when I could just walk to the Wa at 2:00 am and buy Haagen Daaz or Ben Jerrys and finish the entire carton all by myself.
I'm missing a lot of people right now. My best friend forever can't come to my wedding because she's in the UK finishing up a Masters :'(. Another group of Pton buddies is meeting up in Dubai and I won't be there... *sigh* ash-uru-bil-huzn...
The weather's turned hot again. Add daily 4-hour power breakdowns to the equation and you have a sad, Gaia. On the bright side, at least I have ac in the office :). My boss is stuck in Germany thanks to the volcano... a gentle reminder that the All-Powerful Being is All-Powerful and we are all just menial creatures...
Six months after I started work at a famous Pakistani conglomerate, I got my first performance appraisal. My supervisor closed the door and turned to face me with a somber expression. "I've made girls cry" he says. I look back, deadpan wondering what's coming.
We talked about life, leadership and cats... yes, cats. He basically said, "You're a cat, sitting in front of a mirror... you see a lion, but the people walking behind you see a mouse." Yeah, that was my appraisal :"P. He also said I reminded him of Mother Teresa... :O
Anyway, this whole relationship thing is stressful... I was a such a happy-go-lucky kid, living life for myself, independent, bold, daring... I actually have to start caring about someone else now and how my attitude affects him :P. But he's been chill so far, alhamdulilah... lol.
I wonder if I'd make a good trophy wife with a sugar daddy husband... so shallow... astaghfirullah :P
I'm sitting in a conference room with 2 consultants from China, my German boss and Pakistani colleagues. Patience is wearing thin... we say something, repeat it twice, break down the sentences into simple English (and lose half of what we're trying to say). The consultants talk to one another for a good 10 minutes, then the interpreter translates and everyone's confused :S.
Yesterday, my boss abandoned me for lunch so the responsibility for entertaining our guests fell to me... I ordered Pizza Hut and talked about vacation spots in Shenyang :D. Waisay, we, as a nation learn to need to be more considerate of others' needs. Pakistanis love meat, so we assume everyone else must love it too :P. I'm ordering palak paneer for lunch today...
The knitwear will be donated to Little Hen Rescue in Norwich, a not-for-profit organisation which re-homes the hens.
Battery hens, which are not bred for meat, are normally sold for slaughter after one year, when they start producing fewer eggs.
The rescue centre buys them and then offers them as pets as an alternative.
Members of the knit and crochet club, which meets in the craft centre at Monkton Elm Garden & Pet Centre, Taunton, said they liked to help charities and organisations, and thought chicken clothes were a great idea.
Since there's nothing on tv (and I'm not a big tv-watcher anyway!), I'm now following, Greatest American Dog. Basically, it's a bunch of dogs with owners competing to win :p
Next, they'll probably come up with something even more outlandish... like Greatest American Baby or Turtle or "insert animal of choice" here.
I can't believe I'm doing this but I'm reading my sister's Bratz series :). Bratz are a group of teenage girls with pouty lips and hooker-ish eyes. Here's an excerpt:
PRETTY PRINCESS: Yo, Sash. BUNNY BOO: I'm here. Hold onto your seats, cuz I've got a scoop as pretty princess sez. KOOL KAT: What did U find out frm Koby? BUNNY BOO: It's not what I found out frm Koby it's what I found out while he wuz OUT! ANGEL: Spill!
"Prowlin' round with feline grace, Kool Kat's the one that's settin' the pace. Sleek and sassy, always dressed to kill, She's the girl who makes my heart thrill."
Ummmmm, I'm probably old-fashioned but I think I preferred the more refined and gentle Barbie :")
I've been feeling la for the last few days; too lazy to do anything productive, yet sad because I've been sitting in one place like a lump. I did manage to clean out my cupboards if that counts as being productive :P And I discovered a wet tissue from Boots that was lying in one of my purses for the last 10 years... I opened it, the tissue was dry but the fragrance was still intact :P.
I miss being around intellectual people who can talk about subjects other than clothes, tailors, electricity and family issues... I've been entertaining myself with Samantha (my sister named her :p).
I miss feeding the swans, geese, ducks and pigeons at Regent's Park... :'( All I've seen here are a few sparrows, some severely injured cats missing an ear or part of their tail at the Petroleum Institute and the occasional crab at the beach...
We do however have pictures of camels up on the wall- I have yet to see a real one somewhere in the desert...
I was going through my "Assignments" folder (containing papers and projects for classes in college). I realize some of them are gibberish. Horse Latitudes was required reading for one of my classes in college... it never really made sense to me. I wrote a comparative analysis of Blackwater Fort and Badli-ke-Serai examining the political innuendos in both... A classic example of bs-ing by a stressed out college student :P.
Blackwater Fort
As I had held Carlotta close
that night we watched some Xenophon
embedded with the 5th Marines
in the old Sunni triangle
make a half-assed attempt to untangle
the ghastly from the price of gasoline.
There was a distant fanfaron
in the Nashville sky where the wind
had now drawn itself up and pinned
on her breast a Texaco star.
"Why," Carlotta wondered, "the House of Tar?
Might it have to do with the gross
imports of crude oil Bush will come clean on
only when the Tigris comes clean?"
Badli-ke-Serai
Pork-barrels. Pork-butts. The Widescreen
Surround Sound of a massed attack
upon the thin red cellulose
by those dust- or fust- or must-cells
that cause the tears to well and well and well.
At which I see him turning up his nose
as if he'd bitten on a powder-pack
like yet another sad Sepoy
who won't fall for the British ploy
of greasing with ham the hammer
or smoothing over Carlotta's grammar:
"On which; On which Bush will come clean."
Her grandfather a man who sees no lack
of manhood in the lachrymose.
For any poor student/poetry aficionado out there struggling to make sense of the above, here's what I wrote:
“Politics” in Blackwater Fort and Badli-ke-Serai
By 1590, the English controlled much of Ireland. Ulster was the only fertile province waiting to be colonized. Hugh O’Neill, a prominent member of the Tyrone O’Neill clan was banished from Ulster after his father was killed. He was taken care of by an English settler’s family and although he was Catholic, Hugh seemingly grew up more an English Lord than an Irish clan leader[1]and in 1587, Queen Elizabeth I granted him the title Earl of Tyrone.
The Nine Years War, also known as the Tyrone Rebellion, started in 1592 when an Irish clan leader Red Hugh O’Donnell chased Captain Willis away from Tyrconnel. In 1593 Captain Willis tried to capture Fermanagh (Irish territory), but was hindered by Hugh Maguire (another clan leader) and Red Hugh O’Donnell.
Since Hugh O’Neill had defeated Hugh Maguire the same year, he was given command of an army of 600 men by Queen Elizabeth. However, Hugh dealt this favor in a unique manner. Once the first 600 soldiers had completed their training, he discharged them and engaged another 600 men to train. In all around 6000 men were trained in the following two years at the expense of the Crown[2].
Meanwhile, O’Donnell and Maguire were carrying out hit-and-run attacks on the English. Hugh O’Neill took no action against these isolated rebellions despite several requests but managed to escape detention. He returned to Ulster and in 1595, his well-trained forces joined the forces of O’Donnell and Maguire in a massive attack on Blackwater Fort[3]. Ironically, the English had created, trained and financed their enemy.
The title of the poem, “Blackwater Fort” implies that a similar irony is at play in the current war in Iraq. Imports of crude oil from the Middle East and Saudi Arabia in particular are financing wealthy oil companies such as Texaco in the United States and the “ghastly” in the price of oil which ordinary citizens have to pay is in fact due to the continuing war in Iraq. Every day more and more Americans and Iraqis are being killed in gruesome incidents in Iraq. The narrator of the poem is watching the media coverage of the war with his lover Carlotta and commenting upon the war and its ironies.
Xenophon represents the modern reporter traveling with army units in Iraq and reporting ineptly on the “ghastly” occurrences in the Sunni Triangle, a densely populated area northwest of Baghdad inhabited primarily by Sunni Muslims. Xenophon was a Greek soldier and mercenary and is known for his historical writings of his time. He is often cited as being the original “horse whisperer”[4], having advocated sympathetic horsemanship in his book, “On Horsemanship”[5]. By the use of multiple hidden meanings embedded in every word and the use of interwoven similes, Mr. Muldoon employs reflexivity, leaving it up to the reader to interpret the poem at his or her discretion.
Reflexivity is an act of self-reference where examination of action “bends back on”, refers to and affects the identity instigating the examination and describes the circular relationship between cause and effect[6]. The observations of the observers affect the very situation that they are observing and the observations are not independent of the participation of the observer. Thus Mr. Muldoon implies that the narrator, watching the media coverage has the power to influence the events that are occurring.
Mr. Muldoon’s writing style also emphasizes his use of reflexivity. For example, the “clean on” in the penultimate line rhymes with fanfaron, and with Xenophon, as do triangle and untangle, wind and pinned and star and tar. This circular motion of image and rhythm coupled with the sharp juxtaposition of the past and the present is characteristic of the poems in Horse Latitudes[7].
The distant “fanfaron” in the Nashville sky refers to a swaggering bully, a coward who blows his own trumpet[8] and to fanfare about an end that is vague (the outcome of the war in Iraq). The reference to a “Texaco star” may also be a reference to the idea that the war in Iraq is motivated by oil and that the Bush administration, by creating unnecessary fanfare is not being completely open and honest with the American public and the world at large about its reasons for declaring war on Iraq.
The “House of Tar” may be an allusion to the practice of tarring and feathering; a physical punishment used to enforce formal justice, mostly as a type of mob vengeance. In a typical tar and feathers attack, the subject of a crowd’s anger would be stripped to the waist. Hot tar was either poured or painted on the person when he was immobilized and he was rolled around in feathers that stuck to the tar and paraded around town. Since tar was difficult to remove, the person’s degradation was obvious and continued for some days. Mr. Muldoon suggests that “tarring and feathering” the Bush may be an appropriate punishment or form of vengeance for intentionally misleading the public when “the Tigris comes clean” or when the war in Iraq comes to an end. Several of the above mentioned themes and ideas emerge in a later poem, “Badli-ke-Serai.”
Badli-ke-Serai describes the experiences of the Hindu and Muslim soldiers in the army of the British East India Company during the colonial era, referring specifically to the events of the First Indian War of Independence in 1857. The rebellion or war of independence had diverse political, economic, military, religious and social causes but an oft-cited cause is the introduction in 1857 of the new Pattern 1853 Enfield rifle. To load the rifle, the Indian soldiers were expected to bite the cartridge open with their teeth. It was believed that the cartridges were greased with lard (pork fat) which was impure and forbidden for Muslims and tallow (beef fat) which was sacred and forbidden to Hindus and therefore offended the native Indian soldiers making them feel that they were going against their religion.
Mr. Muldoon describes the plight of an Indian Sepoy bound by the pork-barrel government of the British; a form of government in which government spending is intended to benefit only certain constituents of a politician in return for political support. While the benefits are concentrated in a particular area, the costs are spread among all tax-payers. Butt is an archaic word for barrel or cask. In pre-refrigeration days, pork shoulders were salted and packed for storage or shipping in barrels known as "butts." Thus, etymologically, a pork butt is no more than a pork barrel but the use of synonymous words reinforces the central idea in the beginning of the poem. The word “pork” is also italicized to highlight the role of pork in the war which seems trivial but Mr. Muldoon uses the same approach by italicizing “on which” in the third last line. By doing this, he attempts to shift the focus from the larger themes such as politics and war to details such as a grammatical error perhaps to demonstrate that people in general become bogged down in the minutiae and therefore fail to observe more important events.
The idea of a Pork-barrel government is carried over from a previous poem, “Blackwater Fort” and it appears that American imperialism is not very different from British colonialism a century ago. The people who would benefit most from the war in Iraq are the wealthy elites who finance Bush’s election campaigns and have huge financial investments in the oil industry while ordinary American citizens are expected to finance the war with taxes and pay an increased price for gasoline. The American citizens are therefore financing their “enemy” by financing the Bush administration and like the Indian soldier, they too are bound by a pork-barrel government because the taxes that they pay and the increased price of gasoline fattens the coffers of the oil moguls who provide support for the Bush administration.
The idea that the Sepoys are being exploited by the British is shown by the analogy of cancer cells attacking connective tissue. Dust cells are found in the sputum of those who inhale coal dust. They are alveolar epithelial cells which have phagocyted the minute particles of coal dust, which are constantly inspired in a smoky atmosphere. An attack by “dust- or fust- or must-cells” on the thin red cellulose may refer to Carlotta’s cancer. Smoke inhibits and damages the normal cleaning process by which the lungs get rid of foreign particles (phagocytosis)[9]. The harmful carcinogens in smoke are able to remain lodged in the mucus and develop into cancer tumors which attack connective tissue. Similarly, the culture and identity of the Sepoys is under attack when they are expected to commit the cardinal crime of biting the cartridge.
It appears that one Sepoy or Indian soldier is scorning his contemporaries who have been tricked by the British into chewing upon the cartridges greased with animal fat. And while the act causes them anguish, causing tears of anger or frustration to “well and well and well,” they are bound by the Pork-barrel government.
An interesting connection between Blackwater Fort and Badli-ke-Serai are the lines, “Bush will come clean on…” in Blackwater Fort and “On which… on which Bush will come clean.” Mr. Muldoon ignores the seemingly larger theme, the war in Iraq, oil politics etc. and carries forward to the next poem, only the most trivial aspect; that of correcting a grammatical flaw. The reflexive pattern is repeated here: Sepoy rhymes with ploy, and hammer with grammar. Carlotta’s grandfather appears to be mocking the cause of the war, “greasing with ham the hammer” by comparing it with something as inconsequential as “smoothing over Carlotta’s grammar” as if by correcting her grammar, all the larger problems will be solved.
Mr. Muldoon effectively employs historical, philosophical and linguistic tools, seemingly arbitrary but ingeniously logical to state his message. But instead of sounding pedantic, his reflexive style encourages the reader to interpret for him or her-self the ideas conveyed in his poems which makes the journey more exciting. Going backwards, from Badli-ke-Serai to Blackwater Fort, but going forward in time, from 1857 to the present, Mr. Muldoon demonstrates that the state of affairs is rather similar, drawing parallels between British and American imperialism and the pork-barrel government designed to curry favor with political constituents. And just as Carlotta’s grandfather attempts to sweep the larger issue under the rug by fixing on a triviality, so it appears that people today are turning a blind eye on the situation in Iraq.
[4] A horse whisperer is a horse trainer who adopts a sympathetic view of the motives, needs, and desires of the horse, based on modern equine psychology. The term goes back to the early nineteenth century when an Irish horseman, Daniel Sullivan, made a name for himself in England by rehabilitating horses that had become vicious and intractable due to abuse or accidental trauma.
There's a sandstorm raging outside. I thought my roomies were moving furniture downstairs until I happened to glance outside. You can't see anything... it's like a dense fog. Dust and fine sand swirling in the air, wind pounding the windows and debris hitting the walls (sounds like thunder). Hopefully, this means the weather will be a little cooler tomorrow. These days, it's around 36 degrees celcius during the day (and everyone's telling me it gets much warmer) but inside the office, I wear a jacket or shawl because the airconditioning system is too efficient :P
As a random side note, I have a copy of Abu Dhabi Week- Your Guide to Life in the Capitalfor each week since publication started last year.It goes to show that I've been at one mall or another each week and made sure to pick up my free copy :P.
Also, Coldplay will be performing at Emirates Palace, Abu Dhabi on March 28th. Sadly, I'm too poor to go (I don't want to buy cheap tickets and remain standing for 5 hours straight).
ABU DHABI Campaigners trying to prevent people from dumping rubbish in the desert say their message – that one in two camels is dying from eating waste – is going largely unheard.
Cameron Oliver, 12, started a campaign to save camels and other animals in the UAE as part of a school project, and has since seen his message go worldwide, appearing on television in Brazil, China, the UK and his native South Africa.
However, he and his family believe the facts are not being driven home hard enough, as there is little emphasis on recycling and many people litter without a second thought.
Dr Ulrich Wernery, the scientific director at the Central Veterinary Research Laboratory (CVRL) in Dubai, where every second camel brought in for necropsy has ingested plastic and dies from related complications, agrees.
"There are 250,000 camels in the UAE and many are regularly ingesting waste,” he saidThe doctor, who first started warning the public that camels and other animals were dying from eating plastic 10 years ago, believes people are continuing to ignore his message and he is so frustrated at the inaction that he has almost given up.
“I watch people everywhere and there has been no change; they still throw rubbish away,” he said.
Cameron, who attends Al Rahah International School in the capital, said he was shocked when he learnt that the dumping of waste was causing animals to die agonising deaths.
As part of a school project, he developed a website – www.cameronscamelcampaign.com – to stop people from dumping rubbish.
“I can’t believe people are killing these animals,” said Cameron. “The camel is part of the UAE. It is what got people around. But it is not just about the camel. Goats are dying and turtles in the sea.”
His father, Mark Oliver, who works in retail, said: “It is a sensitive issue. People throw rubbish away as if they expect someone to come and pick it up after them. There is a cultural change that needs to happen. If they don’t stop they will kill all the camels.”
Sandra Knuteson, a Sharjah-based scientist, estimates that between 260kg and 840kg of rubbish per square kilometre is left behind at recreation sites, such as wadis in Fujairah and Hatta, each week.
Four-wheel-drive clubs, which regularly head into the desert for clean-up weekends, come back with dozens of bin bags filled with rubbish, which they later burn at landfill sites.
But even when refuse is properly thrown away, it often ends up at dumps and landfill sites that have no barriers to prevent animals from entering them.
Cameron’s Camel Campaign is now looking for corporate sponsorship so they can extend their awareness campaign and also raise money towards biodegradable products.
“It is important to remember that this is not about Cameron,” said his father. “It’s about the camels.”
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