Conversation with Kshanika, Suresh in Minneapolis

I spent the evening at Kshanika and Suresh’s place.  It was a wonderful evening of socializing, talking, learning and affirming.

(image credit)

What I learned:  Food and eating

Sri Lankan food is about mixing.  Mixing the food items themselves, mixing spices, offsetting taste with other tastes (e.g., stronger curry with milder curry).

As with Filipinos, it’s part of the Sri Lankan culture to eat with your hands. Eating with your hands is part of capturing the flavor of the food. At first I thought that Suresh meant the oils, scents from one’s hands. Instead what he meant was, using the hands allowed for a better mixing that gave rise to flavor.

My mother and other relatives ate with their hands, and it was an art form. You gathered food, scrunched it with outstretched fingers bunched together, then scooped it into your mouth. As a child, I tried to do this, as I marveled at it. But, alas, I was not quite satisfied with my level of skill. After awhile, my mother hardly ever did this, and I came to feel that it wasn’t civilized to eat with your hands.  Nay, I ate everything with a knife and fork, even pizza.

Sri Lankans, like Filipinos, also ate with a spoon in their right hand and a fork in their left. Kshanika’s father has heart and stroke problems, and apparently he isn’t very agile in his hands and fingers anymore and must resort to using a spoon to eat.

The dish they served me was a mixture of different foods that were leftover – one with noodles, chicken and vegetables. It was spicy, but so tasty that it was like being a home with my Mom’s cooking: I kept wanting to eat and eat it, past satiation. I asked Kshanika to write down the name of it, but I forgot to ask her for the note.

I talked about lechón as an important food around which Filipinos came together. And it’s so tasty, especially when you add the sauce Mang Tomas. My Mom would gather leftovers of this and fashioned a soup dish that was equally tasty.

I drank Indian Pale Ale. I don’t like ale in general, but I liked this one. I had just one drink, because as I admitted to Kshanika, I’m a “lightweight” when it comes to drinking, and I was feeling the effects of that ale.

(image credit)

What I learned:  Housing

In light of the tsunamis, foreign helpers in Sri Lanka were keen to build or rebuild houses. What Suresh shared was very, very interesting: What the locals needed was roads. What they needed was to have their livelihoods back. They themselves can rebuild their house – apparently that wasn’t a problem.

It was also helpful for them to have open conduits – not sure for what, but I would guess resources like water.

Schools are part of the infrastructure, so it was important to build them.

For Sri Lankans, it wasn’t about planting grown trees, but rather it was about planting the right sort of seeds – again, roads, conduits and livelihood.

They fashion their houses in ways that meet their needs – and reflect their culture:

• No doors typically, perhaps only curtains – privacy or locking isn’t part of their day-to-day habits.  
• When doors were used, they were usually made out of opaque glass that allowed for as much light into the room as possible.
• The kitchen was separate from the sleeping quarters, as wood-burning was used for cooking and it created an unpleasant smell.
• The bathroom was in an outhouse.  Some basic amenities or facilities were lacking.
• Houses were built in clusters, so that families and relatives could live in close proximity to one another. 

I shared how housing “projects” for impoverished African Americans in the city provided a family with nice, comfortable accommodations. But apparently the projects served to fracture the African American family community, instead.

Kshanika shared that Sri Lankan houses were horizontal, not vertical. And this distinction brought the difference between Western and Asian housing. You created vertical housing, she said, and people were still outside gathering and squatting by the railroad.

I talked about the Heritage House in Dammam, Saudi Arabia: How in the center is decked with trees and plants and little waterways and bridges, and in the periphery are rooms (dining rooms) that represented different regions or cultures within Saudi Arabia. In the traditional family household, different members of the extended family – and their own families – lived in these rooms. Then everyone gathered together in the center. In an Arab household, the father is the head.

I’m not persuaded that city “projects” can’t be constructed in ways that don’t fracture families and are horizontal; in ways that housing units are clustered together, as Suresh described; in ways that also allow for multiple groups within a broad family circled to come and live together.

I also talked about the fishermen from Al-Qatif, Saudi Arabia: How each fishing boat housed a community of people, some of whom I observed cleaning the boat; some hauling ice in a human assembly from a truck to an area below the deck; some playing, jumping and swimming in the water; some preparing the fishing nets; some boats sailing off to fish etc.

What else did I learn? 

It takes Kshanika time to adjust both there, when she’s home in Sri Lanka, and here when she returns back to the US. There, there is a mingling of people.

“In Sri Lanka, a house is never empty,” Suresh pointed out. In one neighborhood, he said he hardly ever saw the residents. “A house is never without people.”

So at first Kshanika is overwhelmed with the crowds and noise of people – so much so that she has to retreat to a room the first couple of days, and close and lock the door. It’s truly unheard of in Sri Lanka to lock anything – house, car etc. But locking things is so much a part of everyday American life.

Then when she comes home, she’s been used to constant presence and talking amongst people that the silence in their apartment is literally “deafening.”

She was working so much last year – working Saturdays and Sundays, e.g. – that she got sick. And with the advent of the tsunami, she realized the need to manage her schedule and change her outlook.

That’s me, too: working so much that I got sick repeatedly. That I’ve worked to control my schedule and reduce my work.

I’ve had the fortune of not having tragedy or disaster affect me directly. Still, my travels to the Middle East the last 3-4 years have a been a life-changer indeed: Instead of living to work, I’m working to live. I put my family and myself through long separations, with my hectic work schedule, so I can travel to places, meet people, and learn and experience.

Conversations with Karim in Riyadh

Karim has been so kind and accommodating. Besides taking me to the Gulf Air office 25-30 km from the compound, he took me to a mobile shop to get my Saudi 'sim' card – finally! – get some cash, and get ointment for my infected eye.

At one point, we were inside a mobile shop, “30 seconds from purchasing that sim card,” when the religious police – matawa – came and took the shop owners’ ID. Quickly people vacated this and other shops. Quickly the shops brought down the protective blinds and closed down. Karim quietly and slowly directed me out of the shop, turned to the right, then back to the car.

It was late evening prayer time.

I thought that was it, that we’d have to try to get the 'sim' card next time. But he said we’d drive around a little bit. He said that as long as you’re moving, that’s considered traveling. And apparently traveling is exempt from the things that the matawa would typically nab you for.

The matawa are apparently large in numbers. Karim did corroborate, at least in small part, how harsh they can treat you – beating, lashing – if you’ve done something wrong and they catch you. He said, you might accidentally bump a Saudi lady on the sidewalk, and if she makes a ruckus about the contact, you can be in big trouble.

The matawa have “snitches” at the malls. One of those snitches will call them, if he sees you doing something wrong – for example, spending time with a lady, if you’re not part of her immediate family.

I’m generally a social guy, and I hang out with women.  But through all my socializing in the last three to four years, I’ve avoided befriending a Saudi lady – and in large measure Arab women, too. What I saw and what Karim shared last night reinforced the care I exercised in this region.

Karim, to my right, Rolf and Herdie, King Abdulaziz Historic Centre, Riyadh (2005)

What else have I learned from Karim?

His grandfather worked for King Abdulaziz. His father helped to design the city of Riyadh, apparently in all aspects of the world – infrastructure, schools, housing and buildings.

His clan – Sha’ath – originated in the northern portions of the Western Province, and settled in the Gaza Strip and became Palestinians. But now they’re throughout the Kingdom, the Middle East and the world.

There are several other security firms in the Kingdom, and they share information and even coordinate with one another. Most of have paramilitary, security backgrounds, but it’s rare – and sought after – to have a corporate background.

David wondered what other companies were doing regarding traveling their people to the region. Karim said there were many who told their people not to, for example, in part because their insurance wouldn’t cover them. But some apparently forced them to – but, at least, arranged for their security.

The Kingdom City Compound is where they recommended that we stay. There are several other compounds, but they’ve already invested in improving systems, processes and services here. It’s also clear that they’ve built good relationships with various staff members on camp. Still, Karim told me today, there’s got to be a balance. He has more ideas to secure the Compound further, but then it becomes uncomfortable for the residents.

There’s an armored tank right outside the perimeter of the Compound. He said the reason it’s not inside is that at one point, a guard nodded off and accidentally pulled the trigger. It shot through the wall. Thankfully no one was hurt. I told him, I expected a horrible story of some child getting hurt inside.

There’s also a slew of aviation companies. There was a handful of them at the outskirts of King Khaled Airport that he pointed me to, as we rode in early this afternoon. They’re private jets for business people.

King Abdullah has a fleet of vintage cars. His palace is in Riyadh, with circles upon circles of security.

Karim, second from the left, and our project team at the National Museum of Riyadh (2005)

On a lighter note with Karim 

Karim is a shy, very polite, watchful guy. He’s also very knowledgeable, and shares what he knows freely. At first I thought he would be all business, but in the few days he took care of us, it was clear he had a sense of humor.  For example, last night, after taking me to Gulf Air, ATM, pharmacy, and two mobile places, he said the only thing you I have left to do is apply for nationality.

I joked with him, too, at the appropriate times.

We were rushing to get to the Gulf Air office last night to get my paper tickets. He was a bit displeased that we got our signals crossed about our meeting place. I was at the front gate, sitting on the bench under a canopy. He entered the gate, and looked for me by the guest houses. We were within a couple of feet of each other, but for about 15 minutes we didn’t see each other.

It was about 6:20 PM at that point, the Gulf Air office was to close at 7 PM, and it was 25 - 30 km away. So, he said, he’s going to have to do some “evasive driving.  I’m authorized to do that. Is that OK?”

“Yes, of course,” I said. “I’ve done evasive driving myself, and I’ve never been authorized to do so.” 

 He chuckled.  

Staying at the Kingdom City Compound

This is certainly the most unusual experience I’ve had in my travels to the Middle East so far. Because of US State Department warnings, our firm - PDI - and our client - SABIC - arranged for us to stay at Kingdom City Compound, in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, instead of the posh Four Seasons Hotel.

What’s more, we have security detail:  from a Danish firm. Karim was my security escort from King Khaled Airport. He seemed to be a friendly guy, though his friendliness didn’t belie his attention and care for my security. He was a bit chatty, too.

Entrance to Kingdom City Compound (image credit)

In Conversation with Karim

• They were aware, of course, of the recent three-day shootout in Dammam.
• His firm secures Riyadh for clients over a 200-square kilometer area.
• They’ve found a cache of weapons in the Western Region. 
• Iraqi insurgents are coming to the Kingdom, and apparently taking stock and re-mobilizing themselves. 
• British Aerospace has accommodations here. 
• Executives and their families live here. From what I could see in the night, when Karim gave me a brief tour, it’s a mighty nice compound. 
• There are about 360 units.
• There’s a Swedish school. 
• Kingdom Hospital is next to the Compound, and has state-of-the-art facilities. 
• Karim lives nearby. In fact, he humored, it’s so close that people can see through his bedroom window and see him in his t-shirt when the curtains are open.

The Compound is owned by Prince Alwaleed, who is one of the richest men in the world. He has a sense of humor and a sense of place, so he’s named different “islands” here after famous brands, such as Four Seasons, Saks Fifth Avenue and Movenpick.

Prince Alwaleed bin Talal al Saud (image credit)

Calm and Desolation

Kingdom City Compound is much smaller than Dhahran, which is the suburb that surrounds Saudi Aramco’s HQ. But in terms of landscaping and care, it’s definitely nicer. I frankly don’t like the idea of being enclosed, gated or walled off.  But we’re safe and comfortable here.

Today I stayed at the Compound, after the rest of the PDI team left late last night - Peter, Don, Laure and Rolf  - because I’m headed to Muscat. In fact, Gulf Air stupidly gave away my reservation for a flight out today, so I’m actually here until tomorrow.

I thought I’d do some work, but I really needed a day off. So, besides dealing with my Gulf Air tickets, I more or less relaxed. Between 12 M last night and 10 AM today, I slept about 8 hours. As in Steineke Hall in Dhahran, I’ve actually slept quite well here. Thankfully. In fact, I felt tired this afternoon, so I napped for about an hour. Maybe, without the stimulation and posh of a hotel, my mind and body more easily calm down.

This Compound has felt desolate to me. There have been relatively few people around. I hung out by the swimming pool a couple of times today, and saw a bit more people there. It is the weekend after all.

Still, as I did my exercise walk throughout the compound this morning, I hardly saw any residents. Mostly workers taking care of various units. I wound my way through the different neighborhoods:

• Citigroup
• Rotana
• Kingdom
• Four Seasons
• Canary Wharf
• George V
• Fairmont
• Kingdom Centre
• Planet Hollywood
• Movenpick
• Saks Fifth Ave. 

It was hot, though not humid, and I was getting thirsty. The left side of my left leg, as usual, began to cramp and tighten after about 10 minutes. Thankfully, it went away as I slowed my pace a bit, then stayed away as I gradually picked it up again.

Being safe and comfortable notwithstanding, I don’t quite like my room:

• Poor mobile signal reception 
• No shampoo
• Refridgerator not working very well
• No stocking up of bottled water

I didn’t like my room at the Regency Inter-continental in Bahrain, either. I am, though, headed to the Grand Hyatt in Muscat tomorrow, and that’s a five-star luxury hotel.

Our Journeys, Our Enrichment

Toni Stroud does a good job of relating the intangibles of a place, what it feels like, what its personality is, how its heart pulses. I like the fact that she aims to do this. So her article on her 10-day visit to Israel and Palestine last April has a local color and a local flavor.

Toni Stroud (image credit)

For example, as she took a cab from Ben Gurion Airport at 1 AM to the American Colony Hotel in Jerusalem, her driver said he could take her only so far, because he wasn’t familiar with “that part of the city.” Thankfully, for Stroud, he helped her transfer to another cabdriver who was familiar, and even took money out of the $50 fare he agreed to, to pay the second driver. The fact that Stroud, traveling alone, wasn’t ripped off is testament to the existence of good people in the world, even though, to be sure, not all people are good.

I would’ve wanted to find out more about why the first driver took her no further. Certainly Stroud found it curious and strange, especially as the hotel she was traveling to was well-known. Maybe some personal discomfort on his part, religious or otherwise.

Riding with Rashid

This incident reminds me of a very different experience, not at all odd but definitely curious. In my first trip to Bahrain in March 2002, I befriended a cabdriver, Rashid, a Yemeni man in his 60s. I called him once or twice after I did, so he could pick me up, for example, at the National Museum and take me back to the hotel.

He agreed to take me on a tour of Bahrain, and like Stroud’s cabdriver, he didn’t at all try to rip me off.  All for 20 Dinars.  It was, in retrospect, a very kindly, very graceful gesture on his part. He drove me to the Bahrain Fort, where he stopped the meter, turned off his cab, walked to a shanty by a post, and prayed; while I walked around and took photos.  Later on, at the small Oil Museum, he kindly asked the security guard if I could take photos; I asked him to ask the guard.  Finally, he took me to the Tree of Life, an anticlimactic visit, given glowing descriptions of it from booklets; given, in reality, the trash and graffiti surrounding and on that venerable tree. It was a nearly day tour for about $51. 

Dealing with the unpleasant

It wasn’t all pleasant, and this is another thing I liked about how Stroud accounted for her travels. For example, some shopkeepers, apparently desperate for sales, tried to block her exit from their shops when she didn’t purchase anything.

I got a bit ornery in Dubai recently, particularly when I was grocery shopping at the City Market near the Ramee Hotel Apartments where I’ve stayed the last two visits. There’s sometimes of a free-for-all atmosphere in the Middle East:  people casually cutting in line, as if you don’t notice them; people standing close to you, etc. 

Souq (markets) in Dubai (2004)

In this instance, one of the clerks was finishing bagging my stuff, but stopped to offer to bag another shopper’s clothing purchase. The shopper said he didn’t have to, but the clerk insisted, so the shopper relented. In the meantime, the shopper was standing too close to me (i.e., had entered my personal, Western-derived space), then passed his clothing (colorful boxer underwear or swimwear, I wasn’t sure which) right in front of my face. Worse, the clerk did the same thing, after he bagged these items, passing it back right in front of my face.

Remember, I was in an ornery mood, so I pushed the bag and his hand down. The clerk wasn’t pleased, of course, and I said, “You’re passing it right in front of my face!” I angrily picked up my bags. Admittedly, I got nervous at my gesture and hurriedly started to walk out, when this clerk, bless his heart, pointed out that I forgot one of my bags.

Anyway, Stroud’s experience with the shopkeepers reminded me of this incident.  In a foreign country, especially in the Middle East, a Western traveler has to be careful about what he or she pushes back on. Otherwise I fear that things might get quickly comprising for me, real ugly in a way I wouldn’t want it to,  without recourse to American authorities. By and large, I’ve worked discreetly to avoid such situations. But I suppose if that were to have happened to me, I might have gone ahead and purchased some small item in the shop, which I imagine Stroud did.

Enriching our lives

Stroud waxed lyrically, too:

The sound of prayer mixing with birdsong at the Western Wall in Jerusalem, the most scared spot in the Jewish religion

The soft golden glow from the Dome of the Rock

The choice of two crucifixion/empty tomb locations

The dramatic descent from the Judean Desert to the Dead Sea

The ancient mosaic tile floor in dozens of churches and synagogues and Roman ruins

The flowers simply everywhere in Tiberias

I wish Stroud had offered more background, more history, more facts about these places and these events. For me, it’s not just the experience that gives me a feel for a place, but also the intellect that cements my connection with that place.

Nonetheless, I especially love the following from her:

Not only have I, a woman traveling alone, made the trip without incident – and on my first time here, mind you – but my life is now richer for having come; for I also believe that once you take a trip, it’s yours forever.

Mosque in Deira, a neighborhood in Dubai (2004)

I’ve been very fortunate with the opportunity to travel to new places in the Middle East and Europe the last few years. I’ve been blessed with an extraverted personality, so that by nature I desire and relish and immerse myself into these places. I’ve been blessed, too, with an ability to make friends, wherever I go. 

And wherever I’ve gone, that place is mine for life.

Houston to Riyadh: Islamic and Ethnic Lessons

Mohammed  

Mohammed is one of the staff at SABIC Americas in Houston, and he was very helpful in securing my Saudi visa last May in anticipation of centers in Riyadh later that month. We had lunch together in Houston on May 19th 2005, after I finished my Shell program, and he was a pleasant, knowledgeable man.

I learned more about Islam from him:

• Prophets Muhammad, Moses and Jesus all descended from the last (grand) father. I forget which two were brothers, sons of Ismail – or which one was the cousin.

• Muhammad (PBUH) traveled to Jerusalem and ascended to Heaven, just as Hesham Hassaballa noted.

• Apparently Moses had already died by the time of Muhammad’s revelation, so Moses could not necessarily have advised Muhammad to push back on God regarding the number of prayers Muslims had to do each day.

Me, with Herdie, Laure and Rolf, King Abdulaziz Historic Centre, in Riyadh (2005)

Mumtaz 

Mumtaz was the SABIC staff, who picked me up from King Khaled Airport in Riyadh on May 20th and drove me to the Four Seasons Hotel. He’s Pakistani but looked very Saudi in his customary thobe and ghutra.

I told him about how some Aramco participants were convinced that I was a Hejazi Saudi.  Mumtaz could see what they saw, and he offered more information that I found very interesting:

• Apparently there were people, maybe an ethnic group, from the Central Asian part of Russia called the Boharis.

• The Boharis settled in the Hejaz region (Western Province of Saudi Arabia), and I have some of their features.

Mumtaz mentioned that it was very tough to get a job in Pakistan. It’s a little better in Saudi Arabia, though it’s still not all that easy. I gathered from what he was saying that it was due to his being a foreigner.

I’m slowly learning and appreciating the great ethnic diversity in Saudi Arabia. If I recall correctly, there are over 200 ethnicities within Aramco alone.  The greatest diversity apparently resides in the Western Province, where ethnic groups hail from Africa and Asia.

Riyadh

Riyadh, in the Central Province, is the most conservative, and I would guess the least diverse – or, perhaps as Mumtaz is facing, the least open to different ethnicities.

Riyadh looks to be a sprawling city, with only a couple of tall buildings – the Four Seasons Hotel being one of them, apparently owned by one of the Princes. There’s another hotel, no where near as tall as the Four Seasons, that has an interesting cone-like structure. It, too, is owned by a Prince.

Riyadh houses about 4.5 million people, and talk about sprawling:  it’s 100 x 75 square kilometers.

Islamic Lessons from Hesham Hassaballa

> It was a mid-May day in 2005, and while I was home from journeys to, and consulting in, the Middle East, subjects about the Middle East were very much on my mind.  The Chicago Tribune does a fine job of covering a melange of issues that speak to the racial and religious diversity of Chicagoans.  One of its writer, in particular, is a physician and freelancer - Hesham Hassaballa - and I took note of these two articles:  The Hajj - Father's Pilgrimage Eases Pain and A Deliverance - A Muslim for Moses.  Invariably I learn something about Islam and about Muslims from his articles. He writes in an intelligent but down-to-earth manner. <

Dr. Hesham Hassaballa, pictured against the Chicago skyline (image credit)

  

Things that stood out for me

Besides Muhammad (PBUH), Jesus, Noah, Abraham and Moses are among the five mightiest prophets in Islam.

Apparently the Prophet Muhammad had journeyed to Jerusalem and the Heavens, and God ordained upon him and his followers 50 prayers to be said on a daily basis. The Prophet Muhammad readily obliged. But apparently Moses was the one who urged the prophet to push back on God, and get it reduced to what it actually is now for Muslims – which is five prayers a day.

Muslims have their Passover.  It’s called Ashura, and it falls on the 10th day of the first month of the Islamic calendar. On this day, the Prophet Muhammad urged his followers to fast to commemorate the Exodus of Israeli children from the awful shackles of Egyptian slavery.

On a different note, Ashura is also an important day for Shiite Muslims. They commemorate the murder of the Prophet Muhammad’s grandson in the Iraqi city of Karbala about 1400 years ago. The first time I heard about this holiday was last Fall, I believe, when Joe mentioned it. I didn’t know what it signified, but apparently it was celebrated in a self-punishing but ultimately self-ennobling way by symbolically lashing oneself.

Hassaballa noted that many Jews don’t know how much Muslims honor and respect Moses and Abraham. Many Christians, too, don’t know how much Muslims honor and respect Jesus. In a previous article, I learned that Muslims also revere the Virgin Mary.  She is apparently the one woman who’s referred to the most frequently in the Islamic holy book Qur'an.

It is humanity that binds us all. It is knowing more about how each of us lives, relates, works and prays, which helps us feel empathy for each other. It isn’t just about intellectual knowing, but more about experiential knowing.

I have no excuse for not taking more humane actions, yet, to help children, the poor, the devastated. But it’s part of my vision and calling. There’s Humanitarian City in Dubai, and I even e-mailed them and left a voice mail message for them.  (They didn't respond.)

My vision and calling for the Middle East is about impacting leaders, building wealth, and helping the less-fortunate.

> I moved to Dubai in August 2006, and actively involved myself with charitable organizations and activities, such as Gulf for Good, Foresight and the Emirates Association for the Blind, and the Philippine Business Council.  Just this past month, I finally crystallized my aims and concept for Dr. Ron Philanthropy, so stay tuned for its launch in the next few months!

Notes
Ron Villejo, PhD
March 2013 <

Paris Art Exhibit, in Parc de la Villette

Parc de la Villette is situated in northeast Paris. Fréderíque, a colleague from our firm's Paris office, said that the outskirts of the city are recent additions and that they’re not as historic or fine in their architecture:  "There are more modern buildings.”  But for a moment, I thought she was going to characterize that part of Paris as poorer.  One neighborhood I passed through - that late August afternoon in 2004 - resembled an  inner city of Chicago, quite Cabrini-Green but approaching it.

“Musulmanes, Musulmans” is a fine art exhibit in Parc de la Villette, which depicts the trials and tribulations of Muslims in five cities.  It’s entirely in French, so I couldn’t grasp the text. I did pick up bits of meaning, because French is, like English, Latin-derived.  But this moved me to use a different set of media for understanding:  photos, illustrations, sculptures - color, sound, leitmotif.

Le Caire

Six photographs of women, with their names specified: 

• Asma
• Shaima
• Fatma
• Rania et ses enfantes (Rania and her babies)
• Omm Sameh (“Omm” is mother, Sameh is an elderly woman)
• et Les deux amies (and two friends)

A short text in my brochure points out that in Cairo, Islam grew along side “Occidental values”:  personal well-being, consumerism, and hedonism. One photograph is a fine depiction of it: There is a mosque in the background, but in the foreground is a tall billboard in English “Dreamland Sports and Golf Resort.”

Téhéran

A series of paintings about war is both light and dark:  “Vitrine de la guerre” (Victims[?] of war).  Really striking juxtaposition in one: a figure in a black abaya, presumably a woman, covered completely; next to her, another human figure, this one wrapped in a white sheet that’s tied at the top and held together with two strings around the body. 

It is probably too Western, maybe too glib, of an interpretation to equate an abaya with death. I think it would be a wrong interpretation. It probably depicts how women in Iran lose their men to war, and perhaps in that, they experience a sorrowful death themselves. 

In another photo, “Zourkhanek,” men are bent forward in an upside down V, holding sticks or rods on the ground, all of them gathered in a circle. Is this a sport? I ask this, because others are seated around the men in the inner circle.

Istanbul

One photo, “Vielle ville,” is of two women, one lighting the cigarette of the other. I don’t think you’d see this in a less secular, more Islamic state than Turkey.

The other reason I noted this photo is, in Paris, I’ve seen more names that comes close to mine:  Villejuif Léo Lagrange, Villejuif Paul Valliant-Couturier, Villejuif-Louis Aragon (all of which are stops on the Metro line 7).

Paris 

Another photo, a large one:  “Autoportrait ou la Vierge Marie.” It’s a lady in a white abaya:  first turned oh so slightly to her left, with only a sliver of her face visible to us; next to her is one with her back turned completely to us; then, finally one with a bit more of turn to the right, and we can see her eye and part of her nose.

I believe they’re all the same lady.

Dakar

I’m needing to head back to the office at this point.  Isaac, from the IT Helpdesk in Brussels, was helping me retrieve my client folder in Outlook, so I had to keep my laptop fired up, and I needed to get back to the office before any of the staff there left.

So I walk briefly through the Dakar exhibit: color, lots of different colors, little text, no photos. Why, I thought.  Apparently Senegal is a fundamentalist state, and I know that photographing in some (most?) Arabic culture is a big no-no (e.g., it’s a no-no to photograph women in Saudi Arabia). 

Is this the reason why there are no photos?