WORDS FOR THE FIRE

LUXURY HAS LOST ITS LUSTRE

Gone are the days when luxury was reserved for and accessible only to the select groups perched high up on society’s top branches. Hefty price tags no longer pose a threat to the average consumer. Even with the world’s economy being the quicksand pit that it is at the moment people are still scrambling to possess the latest luxury items and the pricier they are the better.

Not long ago people were taking out loans to fund a dream project or get a proper education. Today, people are using these loans to pay for diamond studded cell phones and designer handbags. Now I do understand the existence of 100,000AED handbags and I also understand that for people who can comfortably afford them it must be a great sport hunting them down like some kind of rare species. It is beyond me though how people who break their backs working day in and day out finding it logical to put their life’s blood into such items. Such people do not even know why they are buying this product or the reasons behind the ridiculous price tag and they don’t care to as long as it is rare. They have not even stopped to ask themselves if they like them or not, if they suite them or not because it really does not matter. And then it struck me, we are living in an age where luxury has become a necessity.

We are not judged by the words we utter or the thoughts circulating in our head but by the clothes we wear and the accessories we sport. Many people have said to me that when they walk into a function carrying a so and so handbag or wearing so and so shoes they gain respect. Yes my friends respect can be bought and off the rack, might I add. Has the void in one’s life become so huge that people are now chucking designer labels in to fill it up? If so, I wonder if this quick fix is actually working? Where does this race to own the most expensive product end and once you get to the finish line what is it that you win?

Intelligence, manners and class have become the luxuries while Hermes and Chanel are the absolute requirements. And so after this disease-like infestation has spread, slapping our priorities senseless and flooding the streets with these once rare items, it seems to have had an adverse effect on me and rendered this whole phenomenon obsolete in my eyes. To me luxury has somewhat lost its luster and I don’t know if it will ever get it back.

This article was published in The Gulf Today Newspaper on 17th October, 2009.

REALITY, GIVE ME A SUPERHERO

The times we live in are indeed tough. The economy is in shambles; wars seem to be sprouting across the world and never before seen viruses are spreading airborne fear among the masses. We live in a world where happiness and positivity are packaged and sold, where it is easier to nourish the land with blood than water, a world where even the children are suffering from exhaustion and depression.

Before you rush to label me a pessimist and a painter of bleak images allow me to clarify that I am neither. I belong to the group of people who still have faith in the world, who still seek the silver lining as hard as it might have become to glimpse. But the grim examples are overwhelmingly great and they are creeping ever so closer to home.

So what do we do when we feel that our worst fears have become tangible? Most of us will seek divine intervention, fall down on our knees and lift our hands up in prayer for what else are our feeble hands able to do? Nothing else. This state of helplessness has inseminated popular culture and allowed for the birth of the ‘superhero.’

The ‘superhero’ is a fictitious character developed to rescue humankind from their most devastating circumstances. A character made up of all that we feel is ideal and necessary. It is a hologram projected by our own aspirations. The first appearance of this superhero was through the character of Superman. Superman was born in 1938 amidst the raging fires of the Second World War. It was a hopeless time and so a character such as Superman was not only needed but essential for the world’s moral and spirit.

A superhero is forever mysterious, tirelessly concealing his secret identity. It is important to us that he remains as such because we realize that it is in our nature to admire and respect what we do not fully understand. We are surrounded by real-life ‘superheroes’ who endlessly sacrifice for the good of others. Yet, we do not acknowledge them, simply because we have the habit of taking what is right in front of us for granted.

Fiction is nothing but an extension of real life, through it we translate our inner most desires. Secure under its thin veil we summon up the courage to create a person, only one, who is able to rebuild all that we have come to destroy in life. A person who walks among us by day and soars above us by night, watching over us, keeping us safe. Fiction offered us Superman, but dare we ask reality for one? Say we did, that would be its cue to laugh in our desperate faces and think us mad.

Superman paved the way for hundreds of other ‘superheroes’ each responding to a need, each representing a missing thread in the fabric of society. In the 40s for example, DC Comic’s created Wonder Woman. Just like Superman she came to life responding to the necessity of women’s role in society that was simply non-existent beyond the house gates. Wonder Woman came to life in order to represent feminism and sexual equality, her role, to shatter the fence of these once confining societal norms.

Indeed superheroes are extreme role models yet they are role models nevertheless. And while we do realize that a single human being no matter how noble, honest and forthright, or maybe because of these qualities, could never eliminate injustices with a ZAP and a POW. We must recognise that saving the world does not rely on one person, but starts with one. The more we reach out to one another the more invincible we shall become.

Every superhero has a weakness. For Superman it was kryptonite, for us mortals the weaknesses are many. Ones that we must acknowledge before we can eradicate. It is the only way we can hope to survive. For only by facing our flaws and accepting our frailties shall we grow strong again. In a world such as ours, we do not need super powers, what we truly need are humane ones.

This article was published in The Gulf Today Newspaper on 11th October, 2009.

THE KING IS DEAD

Michael Jackson’s heart stopped beating last night. Michael Jackson is no longer with us. After being there for me throughout my entire life I must say I feel like I have lost someone close to my heart. His beats where the background music to my life, as far as I can remember Michael was there with me as I am sure he was there for many of you. Who can’t remember their jaws dropping after watching Thriller? Practicing the moonwalk for hours in front of the mirror? Asking everyone to Beat It and proclaiming to the world that we are Bad?

We have called Michael by many a name; sometimes we were kind and called him the ‘King’, other times we settled for ‘Wacko Jacko.’ After rocking to his music for years we were quick to judge his person. We witnessed his face deteriorate before our eyes, we gawked at him dangling his baby from a hotel balcony, we stood divided when he was on trial and were shocked to see his beloved Neverland Ranch being sold. Michael Jackson’s music brought worlds together, but he was a lonely man, one could even say a lonely child. I say that with conviction because when one is gifted enough to reach such heights, he will always remain there alone.

Nevertheless, today we should remember Michael Jackson for all the times he inspired us with his art and be forever grateful to him for shaping the face of music. We should keep dancing to his beats as long as we can in honour of his devotion to us, his fans. The King’s heart gave out last night and tragically, all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put MJ together again. Farewell Michael you were gone to soon.

This piece was published in The Gulf Today Newspaper on June 27, 2009.

Political Prophet

The name George Orwell is synonymous with political criticism owing to his two uber famous novels: the satirical Animal Farm and the dystopian Nineteen Eighty-Four. He was a journalist, a literary critic, and a Democratic socialist who loathed totalitarianism and was not afraid to say it. He believed that nothing is mightier than the word and that language, when used right can be the most powerful weapon against mankind.

His immense contribution to the English language continues to inspire and school writers. What young writer has not come across Orwell’s six rules of effective writing, used them and never looked back? I sure have. The lexicon he developed for his novel Nineteen Eighty-Four has entered the English language and become a part of our everyday speech. It is said that Orwell was the first to use the term ‘cold war’ in his essay You and the Atomic Bomb.

Eric Arthur Blair’s persona was quite the opposite of what his books and essays portrayed. His alter ego, the one he named George Orwell and unleashed onto the world was the most outspoken critic of the Second World War. Who believed in bringing the truth to the people no matter how harsh it may be and set out to do it. But the person behind this tough, injustice-fighting machine was a shy man. Eric Arthur Blair was a man who although spent most of his short-lived life fighting for the common man he didn’t really mix with any and always kept to himself.

He contracted tuberculosis, which forced him to write from the confinement of his hospital room. The most vivid memory the hospital staff recall of Orwell is the sound of typewriter keys resonating in the hallways all through the night. While his body was fighting for survival, his mind was engaged in an image of the future. A bleak image that he managed to paint using innovative word choice and unparalleled imagination. At first glance Nineteen Eighty-Four may seem like a science fiction novel but the political satire and Orwell’s message to future generations is unmistakable. Although it was published in 1949 many of its elements are still relevant to this day, people take head of growing government powers for you will be the ultimate sacrifice.

Orwell wrote from a hospital bed, Blair got married in one. Two very different people living in the same body. This body took its last breath on the 21st of January 1950. One soul lives on through its passionate, influential work and the other lives on in the heart of the son it left behind. And although Orwell was gone too the tombstone carries an epitaph that simply reads: "Here lies Eric Arthur Blair, born 25 June 1903, died 21 January 1950" as if to say he never really left us.

This piece was published in The Gulf Today Newspaper on June 27, 2009.

Killing for Honour, Honoured for Killing

“This is the only way to win back his so-called honour for she is now a stain that can only be cleansed by death.”

Agony thy name is woman. A sentence that commanded my attention as a 16-year-old. I had no real background knowledge or experiences to speak of that would lead me to believe in such a bold and definite sentence. Yet after stumbling across it through the pages I carefully cut it out and pinned it on the already busy board above my desk.

Women have forever been viewed as the Other: the other sex, the other half, the other option. Always the next best thing, always another part of. Yes indeed we have come far as women from the dark ages of silence, suffering and self-blame. We have broken through and taken our rightful role in society. But when I write the word ‘we’ I hesitate, because ‘we’ is all- encompassing. And that would not be fair to the thousands of women around the world who are still forced to dwell in the darkest of ages that we lucky ones have left behind.
It is hard to imagine that even today while many of us go about our lives freely, hundreds of women cannot fathom the concept of being free. Bound, gagged and suffocating from the cruel societal chains they fight for survival on a daily basis, some succumbing to it, others rebelling against it and paying for it with their lives.

The rusty metal links that make up these chains are many, but one in particular has shaken me to the core and continues to do so every time I come across an image of it reflected in the news. It is the horrific crime that seems to be accepted among many Arab societies, conveniently coined ‘honour killing.’ This must be the most contradictory term I have ever come across for what is honourable about cold-blooded murder? Just like the heinous crime the term itself is gravely flawed.

Honour killings allow families to murder any member of their family who they feel has dishonoured them one way or another. And although this definition constitutes any member interestingly enough it is only practiced on female members. Since the dishonourable conduct is not clearly specified the women could be hunted down and murdered for as petty a reason as refusing a marriage arrangement.

Countries like Jordan, Iraq, Egypt, Turkey and Pakistan see an outstanding number of murdered women as a result of these honour killings. Since many of the crimes are
concealed by the entire family there is no way of acquiring clear statistics. But the United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA) estimates that more than 200 women are murdered yearly in Turkey, over 1000 in Pakistan and gives a total of 5000 women lost worldwide. Tragically, these witch hunts go unpunished because the law books in these countries do not view them as crimes. Basically, the law allows people to act as judge, jury and executioner and is prepared to cast a blind eye no matter how harsh their punishment might be.

In Jordan the law justifies honour killings. Article 340 of its Penal Code states “he who discovers his wife or one of his female relatives committing adultery and kills, wounds, or injures one of them, is exempted from any penalty.” Queen Noor and Queen Rania of Jordan have been fighting to amend this law for years and although it has been put forward it was refused twice by the Lower House of Parliament. Shockingly the law is somewhat similar in over 60 countries in the Middle East, Africa, Asia and Latin America.

The West has spoken volumes about these crimes always emphasising that it is a problem which occurs solely in countries governed by Islam. Failing to mention that any law which is interpreted to allow men to kill female relatives in a premeditated effort, crime of passion or in flagrante delicto in the act of committing adultery actually exists in the Napoleonic code (French civil code).

Brazil and Columbia are two non-Muslim countries that considered honour killings noncriminal until the 1990s. It is ironic how when this crime is executed by a Muslim it is named ‘honour killing’ and when the same crime is committed by a non-Muslim it is a ‘crime of passion,’ terminology does make all the difference after all.

This is not Islam’s creed. When Prophet Mohammad (PBUH) was approached by a man who suspected his wife’s infidelity, he asked him to procure three additional eye-witnesses to her act before the public authority could judge her. Otherwise, the husband would be lashed for making such an accusation. Being able to find four eye-witnesses to such a matter is near-impossible. Therefore, the evidentiary requirements for conviction are actually there to ensure that punishment will virtually never be carried out.

This is not about religion. This dilemma arises from the concept of shame. Sociology defines it as a family of emotions that arise from viewing the self negatively through the eyes of others. Therefore, it is this fear of judgement that pushes men to murder. A father cannot bear the idea of people viewing him negatively if they found out about his daughter’s disobedience. That heavy sense of self-loathing is enough to make him drive a knife into the flesh that he himself has raised and nurtured. To him this is the only way to win back his so-called honour for she is now a stain that can only be cleansed by death.

This sense of shame is rooted in tribal cultures. Honour killings are one of the many tribal understandings that pre-date Islam and Christianity together. It is as ancient a concept as the crimes of female infanticides. While the former is now extinct, the latter has somehow managed surviving to this day.

This gendercide must be tackled by a revision of all laws. Killing is killing and placing the word ‘honour’ in front of it should never be justification enough for allowing its escalation.

On September 2nd 2008 in Pakistan Hameeda was taken to the desert beaten, shot at and buried alive for wanting to choose the man she was to marry. She was 18 years old.

Banaz Mahmod, 20 years old, disappeared from her home in south London, two years later her body was found stuffed in a suitcase murdered by her father and uncle. Her only crime was standing up to her father’s daily beatings.

Shawbo Ali Rauf, a 19-year-old Iraqi girl, was shot seven times by her in-laws for having an unknown number on her cell phone.

At a time when the world is exhausting all its resources to fight problems like swine flu it seems oblivious to this ongoing gendercide. How can we justify this to Hameeda, Banaz, and Shawbo?
I can’t... can you?

This article was published in The Gulf Today Newspaper on May 22, 2009.

Who Killed The Femme Fatale?

"Picking up a self-help book entitled 10 Easy Steps To Make A Man Fall in Love With You will by no means transform any average woman into a femme fatale”

A couple of nights ago while aimlessly flipping through the channels I came across a scene that suspended my finger in mid-air preventing it from landing once more on the eager remote control button. It was Sharon Stone dressed in red, complete with red nail-polish and red stilettos, blonde hair slicked back, smoking a cigarette. The movie was Diabolique from 1996. I remember seeing it when it first came out, but considering that more than 10 years have passed since, I decided to watch it again with an older, wiser, more critical pair of eyes and laid the remote-control to a well-deserved rest.

For those who haven’t seen Diabolique here is my brief description: it is a remake of a French film noir named Les Diaboliques meaning ‘The Devils.’ Set in an all-boys boarding school the plot revolves around a love triangle, the three sides of which are the husband and head-master played by Chazz Paliminteri, the ex-nun and wife played by Isabella Adjani, and the sultry mistress and teacher played by none other than Sharon Stone. After having had enough of Paliminteri's abusive character the two women devise a plan to murder him. After thinking they have actually gotten away with it the body disappears and suspicious events start to occur.

I will stop right there because I do not intend on giving away the ending and also the plot is not really what this article is about. What caught my interest was the role that Sharon Stone was playing. Her character conveniently named ‘Nicole Horner’ is that of the cunning, seductively beautiful and sexually forthright woman. She speaks softly, charms her way through man, woman and child, doesn’t take no for an answer and wherever she goes the trail of cigarette smoke follows. Nicole Horner is the classic Hollywood Femme Fatale.

The femme fatale made her appearance in Hollywood in the 1940s in the period where studios were churning out murder mysteries by the dozen. Femme fatale is French for ‘deadly woman’ and just like the word, the character was also conceived in France. The character was created to rebel against the typical-female roles of the time. She was fashioned to be the antithesis of the wholesome woman. Confident, cunning, seductive and adamant on getting what she wants regardless of the consequences. A black widow who does not succumb to societal roles and although threatening to the male psyche, she is absolutely irresistible to him. At the time of her introduction to the world it was liberating for women everywhere to witness such a strong female unabashedly appearing on the silver screen.

Actresses like Anna Savage in Apology for Murder (1945), Rita Hayworth as The Lady of Shanghai (1948), Marilyn Monroe in Niagara (1953) and throughout the 90s Sharon Stone in movies such as Basic Instinct and Diabolique, have introduced and immortalised the image of the femme fatale in cinema. But it pretty much stops there.

The femme fatale has lost her way and has not been seen since. Of course there were and still are many strong female characters in cinema but not quite the femme fatale, not portrayed in all her heavily made-up glory. So where did she go? She was a fantasy that was created to accommodate for a need, she was taboo but that’s just it, she was. The fantasy has become a reality. The femme fatale no longer appears because we no longer need her. The industry might be under the impression that with the likes of Oprah, Madonna and Carla Bruni the world has seen its share of powerful women. There is no mysterious aura about them and as far as I know they don’t even smoke therefore the femme fatale is nothing but an urban legend.

When sex-appeal is being marketed to a target demographic made up of 16 year old boys the package will surely include a cheerleader, a Chihuahua and a hackneyed plot. No mystery, no intrigue, hell not even a hint of the ever alluring smoke. Or maybe, nowadays every woman walks around believing that by showing a bit of flesh she too is a femme fatale? Picking up a self-help book entitled 10 Easy Steps To Make A Man Fall in Love With You will by no means transform any average woman into a femme fatale. Perhaps the only ones to gain from such books are the authors themselves.

The femme fatale has an innate passion and drive and exudes an aura that cannot be learned in 10 steps or even 100, simply because it cannot be taught. Her weapons are her's alone and whether or not I agree with the way she uses them, I have much respect for her presence and will. Because if indeed a man used her same weapons we would label him ambitious, driven and view him in a less darker light than we do our femme fatale. Femme fatale must make a comeback because although women today can achieve what they desire using more direct methods, the world is a less exciting place without her. Therefore, this piece is dedicated to the blonde hair, the red lipstick, the husky voice and the fading flicker of a cigarette.

This article was published in The Gulf Today newspaper on May 1, 2009.