Oops I ate it again!

 

Inspired by recent and ridiculous events…I thought it was time for a refresher on religious studies, my last religious education lesson was back when my nipples were still inverted and I didn’t have to fast, but my memory is a bit fuzzy now, when I drill into it, I keep getting flashing images of “2 Unlimited” NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO THERE’S NO LIMIT ….curious!

In my re-findings, the 5ive pillars of Islam are listed in a particular order, I was most interested in the observance of Ramadan and prayers and how they link the person observing them to God, how it is a personal responsibility and relationship between God and his subject and them alone.

But in certain “democratic” republics, fasting seems to have become a public affair and a responsibly of the state;

Public consumption during Ramadan is considered a crime, an offence punishable by law, here I am, thinking it was a sin, apparently it’s both since you get arrested and taken to court on charges of eating in public. This is terrible; think of how many people are hurt with every bite, the blood shed!!

Women might have it easier, if apprehended for public consumption, you will be asked for your “papers” so to save time, pull out a tampon with your identity card to be on the safe side or your diabetes card or your antibiotics or whatever protection you need from humans, because it offends them more than it does God evidently.

Praying on the other hand, which holds the same if not a higher rank than the observance of Ramadan seems to matter less to people, nobody prosecutes you (in between meals) or judges you for not praying, it is considered a personal choice and is usually left alone. Because??

It might be that we’re over thinking it and it’s simply a case of the old “if I have to do it…everybody else does too” or is it considered cheating just like doping in the Olympics? Maybe they think it’s a national duty? Who knows what they teach them nowadays!

In other countries, fasting is considered archaic and ignorant, some fast in secret, some flaunt it like an Olympian flaunts his medal, whilst others eat without being prosecuted and some might even gain respect for the perseverance and strong will.

Some fast out of fear of what people would say, others fast to loose weight, and others fast despite their dubiousness because it’s easier to fast than to stand up and object especially when you don’t have the arguments.

Some cling on to every scientific proof showing the positive effects of fasting, mostly to convince themselves they’re starving for the right reasons. The link to a certain BBC program is passed around like a faith touchstone and a sort of “I told you so” to the non fasting friends.  But there are the few who do it out of sheer faith and never mind the judgment.

The Non-fasters hunt is now open;

The streets are policed and whistleblowing is endemic;

Quick call 999 I saw someone drinking water!

Ridiculous you say?

One word: where I come from they call it Kwada*

As a concerned citizen, I’d like to know is it an Islamic republic or a democratic one? Charia or Not charia? Your business or my business? And where is Boutefilika? Do you think HE fasts? What do you think the self-righteous, toothless creep who alerted the “authorities” on the drinking criminals was doing at the time? £100 he was either wanking or steeling.

What about non-Muslim citizens? Do they also have to observe the fast? Or simply not eat in public? Who is making the laws here? A hungry judge who missed his S’hour(1)? And what of freewill, human rights? And Periods?

I find it utterly unbelievable that the majority’s beliefs are forced upon the population as whole and unconformity and differences are punishable by laws that are uncertain, unfounded and irrelevant especially to the minority who could be Jews, Christian or simply choose not to do it.

Apparently 2 Unlimited had it all wrong! Or have they?

Massayminch (2) – That’s how they roll

Dz-chick… does not much care for snitches and the self-righteous!

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(1) Meal before sunrise and resuming fast

(2) not fasting

* Ooops I did it again

It's a Ramadan Miracle everybody!‏

The excitement is palpable and the wait is over, four years of waiting for the prestigious games to hit our screens again, to hit our streets and our neighbourhoods, London is buzzy and excited and we are all united in that.

Largest and multiple small flags acquired, jerseys stolen purchased and betting tables started, as for tickets they’re an investment in their own right, and we’re celebrating our modest delegation with high hopes of glory and sporting miracles.

Just 48 hours ago, Algerian fans were plunged into despair after their last hope for a medal was taken away following Makhoufi being thrown out of the games, we thought the only way we can get our hands on a medal was if we casted the bronze ourselves. In fact it was so bad, we thought about claiming the Egyptian medal as our own– “droit de sol” was it?

But today, today is a different story, Algeria celebrates its First and probably only Gold medal won yesterday by Makhoufi after he was reinstated in the games, in what was labelled a very controversial affair. And Algerians everywhere, across the world celebrated proudly and loudly the victory of this young man who worked so hard and came so far to become an Algerian Olympian Champion.

The Algerian celebration and pride of the one medal was more important than that of the Brits with their 48 medals. It makes you think, what one medal, one victory could achieve, the tingling feeling inside, the pride, the tears, the inspiration and the joy.
So great big congratulations to our Champion and to the Algerians. It’s all a nice story.

However,

Let’s not give the credit to the government, this is a self made athlete who applied himself and committed to his sport in the same way Morceli, Mere and Boulmerka did the first time they astonished the world, and he followed suit in that too. 

And let’s try not to forget please, that our Olympic delegation is made up of 39 athletes and  some good elements,volleuses volleyeuses African Champions and 4^th world ranked Boxer etc…the rest remain relatively unknown, or frustratingly irrelevant, but amongst this group, Makhloufi has managed to shine, supersede and excel, whilst the others were too busy getting disqualified.

After watching with immense frustration, loss after disqualification after “too unfit to finish”, carrying on watching and supporting Team DZ, will take a bigger person or a more patriotic one than I am.

Our athletes are sent to the slaughter, some unprepared, some unfit and completely unmotivated and some seem to suffer from a syndrome I call “al mouhim al moucharaka” (1), where it seems the only achievement celebrated is coming to the Games itself and visiting Big Ben, so they do an act of presence and take it easy, rely on others to land the medals, maybe the Boxing team will get a couple and we’ll be off the hook!

But that’s the thing though, there’s no hook, if you win a medal you’ll get a car or some other insignificant reward, if you don’t manage a win, you still took part and represented your country “proudly” and that’s enough!

And besides, there’s always another breed of Algerians across the pond, who can take the relay and play for Algeria, it seems the standards are lower south of the Med.

Watching inspiring athletes like Phelps and Sir Chris Hoy, Ussain Bolt and Bradley Wiggings makes you wonder what makes them champions, hard work, dedication, support, funding, commitment, we all know this, we apply the same principles to anything we undertake in life, a 10k run, a triathlon or our day to day job which is what these guys do, they apply themselves to their jobs. 


If you play spot the differences, from a platform a mile away, in the dark, with smudgy glasses, you can see the contrast with our athletes, physically and performance-wise, apart from a few who make us proud and make their opponent tremble. let me not start on the laughing volleyeuses who giggled their way through to disqualification and gettting their asses kicked by the novice Brits.


Algerian Sport has been in the dark for years, a huge shortfall in infrastructure, of large scale sports politics, of talent-spotting competitions, funding and scholarships is to blame for the degradation of the sporting spirit and the aspirations to go beyond qualifiers.

Makhloufi’s near miss is a true testament to the Algerian federation disorganisation and incompetence, he might have been reinstated but this win is tarnished by controversy and polemics though this will eventually be forgotten, his gold will forever remain in the annals of Olympic history, and hopefully overshadow the controversy of how he got reinstated (deservedly) into the race. 

Where the Olympic Games inspire generations, make you cry with pride and tingle with excitement; our home athletes make us cry out of angst and frustration and disappointment, but last night here in London, the Algerian National Anthem resonated in the Olympic Stadium and made every Arab (allegedly) and Algerian out there proud, maybe even made some people over at the Daily Telegraph* tremble with fear at the tempestuous** tune.

Dz-Chick…..always going for bronze! 
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(1) it’s the taking part that counts

* the Daily Telegraph listed the 10 worst National Anthems at the Olympics, Algeria is 5^th


**Big word init

 

Algerian Ramadan seen from space

Pre-Ramadan rush; is a bit like when they announce a meteorite is set to collide with the Earth and provisions must be made, shelves are emptied, car parks heaving, beaches overpopulated, everybody is going for the last swim before showing giblets becomes haram(1) and the burkinis go back in the wardrobe. I did a count and I found that the burkini is overtaking the jebba(2) three to one. Fascinating!

The town is on Zlabia(3) overdrive; all shops turn to Zlabia parlours! The newspapers have found a hot topic for the month, Zlabiation of all business and prices going up by 100%. Ramadan business opportunism at it’s best.

Rush hour changes from 4pm to midday. Those who were getting paid for sitting in the office talking on the phone and discussing the latest recipes will now be paid for doing the same from home. It’s even legitimate for the month and you know bad habits die hard, so some will try to milk it into Shawal(4).

The offices empty of their workfoce, they are all out there buying food or stuck in traffic on their way to the newest supermarket, presumably to devour more shelves and stock up their freezers before the prices go up!

With all the people in their cars lining up the roads, who’s running the country?

The fast starts, some escape to Europe for a month, some eat in the cupboards, some judge, others point fingers and mumble prayers under their breaths whilst others rejoice and mind their own business.

It’s a weird feeling, time seems to slow down, people seem to remain cheery, though admittedly it’s still early days, must be the effect of sugar residue. Let’s give it a week.

It talks of food and evening plans at the Pool with Dj Iamtoocoolnot and evenings at khaima(5), no not for Taraweeh(6) it’s for sipping tea and smoking chicha, yes this long tradition we have.

The build-up to iftar is intense; a race against the clock, even though time is all we have with over 17 hours of fasting time, talk of food and of recipes from the Middle East and others seen on Nessma TV. For those of us who don’t have to cook, the local DVD shop has almost every pirated movie ever made and some that weren’t. meanwhile the Chorba(6) is cooking and the tension is building, building and building…a fist fight here, an accident there, the bread is sold-out and the butcher has ran out organs! Then comes the Adhan(7) and it’s like the pressure cooker has been released, the end of the war. Ahhhhhhh

Gluttony makes that you’ve most probably over-indulged and are holding your stomach in pain, so you watch TV to distract yourself from the agonising pain in your gut.
Post-iftar TV is where comedy goes to die, soul destroying recycled comedy for the insane and recently lobotomised but totally realistic, only adds to your anguish but you can't put your finger on it, trust me it's the TV.

Then comes S’hour(8), the only thing that has the power to separate a man from his bed.
Ah the love story between the Algerian and his food is everlasting; you can hear your neighbours running around chasing time again, engorging on more food before the fasting resumes and the continued wishes of saha this and saha that start and end never.

The magic of Ramadan measures only to its long days, to kilos gained, to food ingested and footnotes(so many) and countdowns.


Dz-chick...back in London where we work longer than we fast!

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(1) Sinful
(2) Long house dress
(3) Ramadan special, extra painfully sweet confection
(4) The month after Ramadan in the Islamic Calendar
(5) Bedouin tent
(5) Ramadan prayers
(6) Tomato based soup
(7) Call to prayer
(8) Time to start fasting at dawn, a lot of people wake up to take a dose of their favourite toxin, coffee, cigarette, food etc…

Algerians in London: Mind the Gap

What is it that makes us so very proud to be Algerian? Is it our exceptional Football? The cult of the flag? The indoctrinated nationalism? The martyrs of the revolution? Rai Music? Chaabi music? CousCous? Or perhaps it’s Cheb Khaled? Or maybe Chaou I wonder…are we candidly and actually proud of being Algerian?

Algerians seem to have a love-hate relationship with their country, with each other, even with themselves and with their nationality, they waver from love Algeria to hate all Algerians, it changes on a daily basis, it’s even instantaneous at times.

Algerians are known for their mutual sense of suspicion and will go to great lengths to avoid, scrutinise, judge each other and flee their own kind as far as Tokyo and Fiji, only to encounter someone there saying “Assatar”(1) when they trip and fall!

Yet their curiosity is far stronger than their contempt and so when a community event is announced, they will flock like moths to a flame, if only to make an inventory of who’s who and who’s here.
And as suspected, a few days ago, in London, there was a rare Algerian event. Chaou, the Dean of popular Chaabi music, performed for us Algerian-Londoners. A much anticipated event that saw a good turnout of Algerians and nothing but Algerians.

The hall was an old Convent Garden building in dire need of restoration, old unmatching (free standing) chairs from the 70’s. A large Algerian flag draped over the back wall, which was being hung during the actual performance, the musicians looked very smart in all matching white shirts and black ties. Chaou was a delight as he captivated the audiences with old Chaabi tunes and indulged the exited crowds in their requests, the crowds were full of joy, sing-alongs and ululations.
Chaou sang in front of an excited and very mixed crowd of diplomats, intellectuals, media, artists, families, and a large number of exited young men who were probably more harmless than they looked.

Although to the naked and inexperienced eye, everyone was having fun, dancing and singing along, a sense of disparity was very palpable. The dance floor was claimed by the same young men who looked very happy to dance and film each other on their phones; they were evidently having a blast, looking around the room however, there was a feel of apprehension and an indecisive look about the young women present, very few were dancing and when asked, one of the young women said “I felt awkward initially but thought we need to get over it, it’s a Chaabi concert and it involves people from different backgrounds, didn’t think anyone was disrespectful. Chaabi is for people to sing along, shout and dance”

This made me think, are we thinking too much into it and by refusing to dance and mingle, we are subconsciously trying to maintain the social divide and thus keep the wall up that segregates these two very clearly different social circles this kind of event brings together? And in doing so keeping the pseudo-community weak and divided?

Admittedly it was to be expected, although Chaabi is a refined music, by definition it is a popular music and might not always attract the most refined public, and although the crowds were completely harmless and just there for a good time, what seemed apparent the most was the complete lack of respect for this great artist who was struggling to be heard (even by his own musicians) through the poor sound system available first then due to the noise level emanating from the crowd which was obliterating, and no not the sounds of cheers or ululations but the very loud conversations taking place causally amongst the crowd and the fact the stage was highjacked as soon as Chaou sang “abkaw ala khir”(2).

These young people who represent the stratum of the Society that is often disregarded and blamed for the bad image and poor reputation the Algerians seem to be suffering from amongst host societies are nothing if not lost and in need of a role model, which in social norms would be the Elite class’s role, which we’ve seen here and there focused on restraining their muscles from twitching to the sound of the music or too busy occupying themselves with how much money they can make and who goes to the farthest destination known to another Algerian (I’ve been to Antarctica. Beat that!).

Which brings us to the organisation of such events; although the majority of the audience seemed very grateful for the effort and the opportunity to have a home-like experience in the heart of London, the way this kind of community event is handled and portrayed is very important to the image of the community itself and should not be handled lightly and irresponsibly, which was obviously the case here.

The 100% Algerian crowd choice becomes clearer, with the “hna fi hna”(3) mentality, there is less pressure to do anything outstanding or good enough to represent a community that is suffering an image problem.
Some of the people questioned on the choice of the venue and organisation were less than pleased, Karima said “It’s really at the image of our country isn’t”
Whereas Aziz said “Dzair mlesska bel bzak khti” (Algeria is glued together with Saliva, nothing sticks).

His Excellency the Ambassador (who was least pleased with the venue and was overheard saying that had he known about the venue, he wouldn’t have helped, well he's the one to talk really, with their track records of events organised, it's almost like they insist on maintaining third world status) and Madame la Consul were present and unfortunately for them, were seated on the front row which means under direct dance-move attack from the Chemma(4)-Squad delivered in true Hooligan style.

Meriem: "when I think of the Consul’s face, I can see the same contempt as that of the at Alg government towards the people...as for the rest I think these young men helped clean the hall at the end and that’s the image I want to retain"

On the total highjack of the dance floor, stage and general chaos, Reda said “it was to be expected, I can deal when mentally prepared” and Amir: “normaaal”, a more controversial view from Mourad “We Algerians have a mentality where if it’s just us,
we don’t care, but if there was one more foreign person there, say English, our whole mentality changes, it’s like we can’t be trusted to manage ourselves, we have the mentality and predisposition of the colonised”

Yasmin didn’t dance all night though she enjoyed the music, she had a lot of concerns about the organisation and mentioned “notice how we behave differently when it’s just us, on board an Air Algerie flight we defy the rules and all stand up before the plane stops, aboard a BA flight, we behave according to regulations”

It seems the consensus is that by avoiding any foreign observers or outsiders, there is less pressure on the organisers to excel and make it a memorable event, as they say “hna fi hna”, amongst the same group there is less pressure, we Algerians know eachother, we know our ways and have no choice but to accept the low standards or leave. There are no high expectations, only a sense of resignation and acceptance of the low and negative image the Algerian holds of himself and of his fellow Algerians.
The organiser knows this, he doesn’t make a huge effort or maybe he does make mammoth efforts (from the look of him at the end of the evening), they just don’t seem to meet the expectations of the divided crowds. They do however meet the expectations of the group with no sense of expectation, of image that his/her community should have or portray.
He RSVP’ed and he will judge it normal to be able to dance and behave like he always did if no boundaries are set, or indeed standard to uphold.

But who sets the Algerian standard here in the UK? In light of recent discoveries and since the government does so little to help raise the Algerian image or positive visibility, it is up to the people, who take it upon themselves to set the standards by creating community events and calling it “our culture”.

There are many other statements that I will not share with you here today, because it is easier to criticise than it is to do something positive and beneficial for this community we all cry for.
But who’s this “we”, we refer to? Everybody seems to be pointing the finger at the organiser, because the young men, haraga(5) or not, educated or not, are not to blame, they allegedly paid for their tickets as everybody else did, danced when the music said so and sat down when it said so.
We can’t blame the organisers for trying (and failing) we can only blame ourselves for letting this happen. If these pseudo-intellectuals and self appointed elitists want their culture, country or music rightly represented, they need to get involved and cover the huge gap in our culture in the UK stop the cultural highjacking by neighbouring countries that are more business-savvy than they are over-zealously proud.

Nissa: "We can’t blame the guys, they are haraga, some of them have no education, they’re not used to such events, they are nostalgic and for someone who hasn’t been home for over six years because he’s illegally here in the UK, this is the closest for him to feel at home"


Is Mourad right? Do our reflexes change when amongst non-Algerians because we are only image-aware when not in Algerian company? But what about our judgmental and scrutinising stances towards other Algerians? Perhaps it’s time to put theses to good use and stop this socialist mentality, where if you can’t unite for one cause, then by all means do act more like individuals; responsible, respectable individuals, who whether aware of it or not, act as the Algerian ambassadors amongst any group and in any setting.

A thought provoking, emotionally exhausting evening. Where anti-nationalism, patriotism, anger, disgust, joy and love are experienced in an overwhelming simultaneity. I believe I may have acquired my first wrinkles from excessive frowning and laughter. It can be so confusing being an Algerian abroad.

Dz-Chick...has overdosed on Algerians for the month!
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(1) if you sneezed we’d say bless you, if you tripped …well that what we’d say.
(2) Song: Bid you goobye
(3) just between us
(4) of the highest repugnance Sniffing tobacco
(5) Illegal immigrant/overstayers

Ecological torture

London looks as angry as it is infuriating, rain lashing out of the sky, the sun extinguished by the unrelenting downpour, sitting here at my desk in the City looking out of the what is supposed to be a window, for you see, I am not important enough to have window seat but I scavenge on what little light trickles through the window-office closest to my desk, its occupier often catches me staring in his direction from my seat and with the corner of my eye I can see him shaking his head. One pseudo-word: pffff

The summer comes in minutes not seasons, autumn comes in eras; time really is relative here. I own five umbrellas and for vanity’s sake 4 pairs of sunglasses mostly worn on hangover days.

The only tan here is the fake kind or the expensive kind that usually involves an exotic destination and an extortionately expensive flight – Benidorm then?

Oh summer where art thou!

This weather is playing pogo with me, my mood is changing by the minute, with every ray of sunshine that scurries through the grey clouds, I cheer up and love London, then it all goes morose again and I curse ….Coldplay who are not the second coming of the Christ you know!

No it is not hormonal and it’s not the passing of Venus across the surface of the sun and it’s not my friend’s amazing tan from her amazing Belize holiday, or her consistently unexplainable good mood, it is not people who use “summer” as a verb. It is the weather. This bloody, miserable, mind-of-its-own London weather, that is such a central part of our lives and conversations, we have to personify it to hate it better.

Breaking news: A rebellious ray of sunshine spotted somewhere near East Anglia (that’s Bordj Bou Ariridj for you in Algeria). Mark my words in the near future there will be a sun spotting sport. This will come into a more sane perspective when you check the current weather in Algiers or even France.

I read a quote by someone saying that "bad weather always looks worse through a window", except in London. There is no misrepresentation, it is as bad outside as it looks from inside, it is in fact so bad that even the sight of your soft duvet doesn’t make it better.

I think somewhere a new breed of ecological terrorists is laughing, their attempt at collective prayers for rain ( صلاة الاستصقاء) has been successful. You can quote me on that.

Dz-chick…mood weather forecast for tonight: Dark!