Memoir Part 4: Khorfakkan, Red Bricks, and Mosques

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The word khor in Arabic means a cove … the little extension of water into land, as if the ocean has extended its tongue to lick something off the shore. The word fakkan is the dual form (in Arabic there is singular, plural, and dual forms for each word) of the word fakk which means a jaw. So the word Kharfakkan means the cove of the two jaws, which is what you will see if you look at an Aerial photo of this town.

Being 7 years old, the memory fails me to remember our first days in Khorfakkan except for the beautiful orange shingles covered villa we moved in that was a couple streets away from the beach.  We lived in that villa for few months before the construction of the new Bank building in which our new apartment awaited us.

Khorfakkan was a very small city at that time with no parks.  It had one of everything… one vegetables and fish market, one hotel (Holiday Inn at that time), one hospital, one police station, one fire department, one library, one port, one beach, one Lebanese restaurant, and one crazy homeless man who roamed the Corniche [The Dictionary defines Corniche as ‘a winding road cut into the side of a steep hill or along the face of a coastal cliff’ but it means in modern Arabia the beach board walk because, I guess, there is no Arabic word for that].  It had lots of mosques off course, just like everywhere in the Middle East.

You see in Islam, there is a tremendous reward and incentive for building a mosque.  It is narrated that the Prophet said:

“Whoever builds a masjid [mosque] for Allah [God], even if as small as a sandgrouse nest [a type of desert bird], or smaller, Allah builds a house for him in Paradise”,

which kind of guarantees entry into paradise (otherwise Paradise will be a ghost city with so many vacant houses whose owners are burning in hell!).  Also, it is one of the few things after a person’s death that keep on paying up rewards to the deceased … at a time, it is perceived, as most needed (read more about the Torture of the Grave – scary music cue).

Also, it is easy to build a mosque in Islam, since it is basically a non-decorated empty room. Actually, according to Islamic law, all a person have to do is name a piece of land as a mosque, and it becomes a mosque till the day of judgement.

Oh ya… and no one is allowed to change a status of a mosque and it is not owned by people once it becomes a mosque. It is owned by God, and we all know that no foreclosure is taking place there!  [Waly AlFaqih can change the status of a mosque since he represents God in Shia Islam and the Khalifeh in Sunni Islam]

Add to that a rule in Islam that a person has the right to pick a piece of land that is unused, nor in the way of anyone else, and fix it, and consider it his [This is called in Islamic Jurisprudence Ihya’ Al-Mawat (the Revival of the Dead Earth), and which the UAE government adhered to]… and you end up with an ever increasing number of mosques.

Mosques are community gathering centers.  Unlike churches, they are well lit. Conversations are encouraged after prayer, and kids always enjoy running in this empty big, usually well carpeted, well air-conditioned hall.  They play tag. Their minds and hearts open with the openness of space.  Their imagination flourishes with the lack of external stimulus other than arabesque designs, plant ornamentation, and maybe extravagant chandeliers.  Mosques played a big role in my childhood as you will see as we proceed.

The house we moved to in Khorfakkan, was right next to Abu Bakr Mosque … I mean about 5 meters next to the mosque.  The speakers of the mosque shaked the house at the time of Azan [vocal call for prayer] five times a day.  Unfortunately, the Azan guy had a really bad voice … but it was his job .. as assigned by the Ministry of Islamic Affairs in UAE.

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You see in UAE, the Sheikh (head of monarchy … equivalent to a king) appoints all the ministers, and the ministers appoint all the positions, down to the Azan guy.  All mosques are run by the General Authority of Islamic Affairs And Endowments  which is appointed by the Ministry of Justice and Islamic Affairs.  No one is allowed to preach or open their mouth in the mosque without approval of the ministry, and don’t waste your time, don’t try to get anything approved … because you will be tainted with conspiracy, and evicted of the country if you are not an expatriot.

But it is a great thing, because it does not allow for all the chaos of Islamic movements, speakers, extremists, and sectarianism. All preachers get the guidelines from the ministry, get their sermons pre approved, and then read it to the people.  I think that this is one of the secrets of success of the United Arab Emirates … it is the castration of Islam and the complete deprivation of political involvement of people.

Abu Bakr mosque next to my house had one Friday sermon which I heard over and over again for 6 years.  Well, if you live in my house, whether you go to Friday prayer or you don’t, you will hear the sermon.  In the bedroom, in the living room, in the shower, or sleeping with two pillows plugging your ear … you will hear the sermon!!!  And it is exactly the same sermon, word by word … and  I memorized it after hearing it for 1000’s of times.

At anycase, we moved from our house with the red bricks, orange shingled roof, to the house above the bank, next to Abu Bakr Mosque … and we lived there for 6 years!  That is from my grade 2 to 7.  My sister was born there. It is the city that shaped me forever!

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London Trip – Itinerary

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I leave Detroit at 10:28PM for a 7 hours and 37 minutes red eye flight to LHR.

Sunday, April 2, 2017:

I will arrive at 11:05 am in Heathrow airport in London on Sunday.

I booked the express train from LHR to Paddington Station for $15.50.

I also booked the return ticket on April 9.

I booked the first two nights in Hyde park area which is next to the Paddington Station so I can settle, rest, and then proceed with hostels for the rest of the trip.

Staying in this hotel:

Royal Eagle Hotel

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There, I will be meeting my friend Walid Marmar, and spending the few upcoming days together.

Visiting on Sunday:

  1. Diana Memorial
  2. Kensington Gardens
  3. Kensington Palace
  4. Hyde Park – Sunset

Monday, April 3, 2017:

Staying in Royal Eagle Hotel

Visiting on Monday:

  1. Serpentine Gallery
  2. Design Museum
  3. Holland Park
The rest of the trip is approximated in this map and it will be flexible to make decisions over there.  I will be posting a daily blog while I am there summarizing my daily experiences.

London Trip Planning Part 2

 

My trip will be planned according to main attractions and organized by neighbourhoods. While I will have 3-5 specific places to see in a day, I will then leave an open free time to discover neighborhoods.

Here is a list of London Neighborhoods: https://www.tripadvisor.com/Travel-g186338-s204/London:United-Kingdom:Neighborhoods.html

Weather April:

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Some resources, I looked at are the 7 day trip planner, or the LONDON, ENGLAND – THE PERFECT ITINERARY FOR FIRST-TIMERS.

Some of the sources for hotels and hostels I used:

airbnb.com

hostelworld.com

hotwire.com

and these are great tips for visiting:

http://handluggageonly.co.uk/2016/06/20/30-travel-tips-need-know-visiting-london/

Some of the best places to eat:

http://travelphotodiscovery.com/eating-london-a-delicious-food-tour/

 

 

In Preparation for London Trip

The London trip I am planning to take on April 1, 2017 is my first official trip to Europe.  I remember years ago I took a quiz about what is the city that is best for me, and the result was London.  I don’t know much of this city, except from the game Monopoly, and the few movies shot there, but my love to it has been growing over the years for many reasons.

I am going to start this journal about my trip, from preparation till returning, and I hope you will enjoy it with me.51qqsljk15l-_sy344_bo1204203200_

In preparation, I started reading the Biography of London, by Peter Ackroyd. I am also getting the map of london today from AAA to draw my general plan for visiting the city.

I also am going to watch a couple of movies shot in London, and a couple of documentaries to get me in the mode.

In London, I am meeting my dear friend, Walid Marmar, and a group of other friends and acquaintances.

I am excited about this trip that will be the first of many to Europe, and to a city from which everything I love in Art, music, literature, and theater have sprung.

Movies and documentaries I will watch shot in London:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x6vW0z-571Q

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=va_N6LJsiFA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B8iLrVKQ8VA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MZ9MDZXFgjw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mewCYWLKnBk

Memoir Part 3: Idols, Khor Fakkan, and Fujairah

We learnt Islam in schools from Kindergarten.  We memorized the short Surahs (chapters of Quran) and recited them like Christmas carols.  We heard short stories of the prophets and day dreamed about them.  And we studied the Seerah (personal history) of the Prophet at a very young age and it was our bed times stories or in some cases, fantasies.

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The story of Prophet Ibrahim destroying idols and leaving the ax on the biggest idol was depicted by illustrations such as this in children’s book.

One of these short stories is the story of prophet Ibrahim (Abraham) and how he destroyed the idols of his people during their festival, in which he pretended to be sick to be left behind.  Another story was the Prophet (the prophet here forth will mean Prophet Mohamad) destroying the idols surrounding Kaaba after the “Opening of Mecca” (the word opening – fateh in Arabic – is used for Islamic major conquest).

 

You have to be a son of a United Arab Emirates native male to be considered an Emiraty or to have the UAE citizenship.  An Emirati mother won’t do, nor is being born there.  It is a tribal society with all the pride and prejudice that come with its definition. Only about 11% of the country’s population are Emiratis.  The majority actually (0ver 50%) are a working class South Asian … that is Indian, Pakistani, Bangali, Afghani, and others.   We as foreigner Arabs were called “expatriates”. Most Emaratis and expatriates had servants, and so did we.  We had a servant whose name was Leila, from Sri Lanka.  In my opinion, it was just a modern form of slavery.  The abuse of human rights inscripted in the work contracts for those servants is shocking, although the economic value to them is great. 

 

At any case, Leila was a hindu, and I walked to her room with my brother Moe when in Ajman when I was about 7 years old, and found her kneeling down to one of the african antique wood sculptures my mom bought for our living room. She was practicing her religion, but given my little child indoctrination about idol worshipping infidels, and the influence of all the “idol destroying” heroes of my childhood, add to that a lack of education about tolerance, I found it an opportunity to do what Prophet Ibrahim did, and me and my brother Moe attacked the idols and smashed them across the wall, destroying them, and shouting “ALLAHU AKBAAAR”.

 

Leila cried, probably not because of our blasphemous act, but maybe because she thought she will get in trouble. My parents had a confidential talk with her. But then,   we had a good traditional warm from the oven slipper beating (Arabs don’t use grounding as punishment)  by our Mom for destroying her living room ornaments.  

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In 1982-1983,  a new branch of National Bank of Abu Dhabi was opening in a small village called Khorfakkan, and my father was promoted to be a branch president and requested to move to it.  A very important chapter of my childhood started in this small city surrounded and pushed by mountains into the dark blue of the Gulf of Oman.  I was moving to Grade 2, and my brother Moe was entering kindergarten.  There were no private schools in Khorfakkan.  The closest city with a private school (25 minutes drive) was Fujairah.  The tales of two cities unknown to most humans at that time started for me and my brother Moe.

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Memoir Part 2: Jesus, WOW, and Ajman

With a look of despair, Jesus looked down at me from his big wooden cross that was

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Abu Dhabi Rosary School Sisters

mounted on the wall next to the principal’s office at the Rosary School in Abu Dhabi. That was my first encounter with Christianity.  My parents, wanting to give me a better education, enlisted me for Kindergarten in 1980, into a catholic school that was known for its rigorous education.  The headmaster was a Lebanese nun, so my parents–being Lebanese themselves–got along really well with her.  I don’t recall anything afterwards except bleeding from my ear.

Oh, you want to know about that?! Ok, so at this point, this will turn PG-13, so if you have any children around, stop reading aloud (it would actually be weird if you are doing so!). Here is the story: I did something wrong.  I wrote the letter WOW in Arabic from bottom up (Yes! We do have a letter WOW in Arabic, and we also have a letter YAA!!!!, but you will never learn these cool letters because they come after the letters KKHAAA and TDHAAAD and GHghayn so you will probably give up early on in the Arabic alphabet before you get to them).  Apparently, there was an international agreement that I missed  that resolved to

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Rosary School in the 80’s

write  the WOW from top to bottom. I was called to the blackboard. I think that was the first public performance in my life.  After I finished writing the WOW, the teacher stared at me in anger! She fumed! I couldn’t understand why.  It is the first letter of my name, so I was sure I wrote the right letter.  –  She came up to me and snatched my ear with her fingers, pulled, twisted, and squeezed with the all the might that the Lord Jesus Christ has bestowed upon her.  Her fingernail went into my flesh and I bled.  Well, now I write my WOW from top to bottom, so well done Sister!  My father actually came to school and all I remember is his stance at the door with his black suit and his manly full moustache next to the headmaster, while the teacher apologized to me in front of the class.  I don’t know which experience was more traumatizing to me: the public ear-pinching or the public apology of my teacher who will continue to teach me for the rest of the year in humiliation!

As a branch manager of the National Bank of Abu Dhabi, a newly expanding government bank in a newly formed country (1973 was the formation of the United Arab Emirates), my father had to move a lot, accepting promotions and managing new branches.

In 1981, we moved.

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Sand and beach … that is what fills my early childhood memories in a place called Ajman.  Amidst  that canvas of sand and salty beach under the scorching sun, I can barely recall other memories. They are all happy images of playing on the beach between the sand and the sun. I went to the Ajman Model Elementary School in first grade.  I recall nothing from the school, except my box of pencils and instruments that had the Arab World map on it.

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You see, we were raised with the notion that all  of the Arab World was one world which we were the citizens of. We have been submerged into concepts of Pan-Arabism and Islamic identity from childhood, and this was the way in which we perceived the world.  This ideal happy vision of one Arab world, with no borders,  intertwined itself like a vines over our innocence.  Both chattered together once we were at an age that required a passport.

Wait, I have a memory that I think I should not skip: of when I broke the idols and shouted “Allahu Akbar”.  Here is the story.

Memoir part 1: Electra, Blondes, and Snapchat

Electra …. My parents were living on a street called Electra when I was born in Abu Dhabi in the winter of 1976. Well, there is no such thing as winter if you are living the United Arab Emirates, but for the UAE residents, if  you are not getting a heat stroke, then it is probably Winter. The street name is probably the only memory I have kept from my parents talking about my birth.  It was, and still an interesting name to me.  Sounds electronic, psychedelic, minimalist, and perhaps little erotic. A kind of prolific name for my future. Electra is definitely not Arabic … and if it was a girl, it would be probably a blonde thin girl that looks like emmm… perhaps Uma Thurman.  

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There is a completely different stereotype of a blonde in the Middle East and a blonde in the U.S.  While, and I completely disagree with it, nevertheless I see the humor in it; The blonde in the US is a reference for that over privileged, unintelligent, blatantly stupid, overly confident, white girl.  In the Middle East, it is a reference for the Western beautiful classy sexy and clean, yes clean, woman.  There is an irrational obsession with love of blondes among my people in the Middle East. Although the contrast is high when you place a blonde, lets say next to Abdulrazak, a Bedouin friend of mine … but you rarely see it happen.  It remains a fantasy for the vast majority of the dreaming teenagers of Arabia.  People are always fascinated with the less familiar.

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I don’t remember much of my first 5 years old naturally … and recording a video at that time was something that only the TV station had a capability of doing.  If you could afford the heavy machine that is the video recorder at that time, you would have to pay a lot for it, carry it on your shoulder like a bazooka, and it will break soon… believe me … it will break.  I say that to the privileged Snapchat generation today who have no value given to the recorded media (hence it disappears in 24 hours forever).  The memory of their lives is what they preserve in form of videos and photos, and their brain memory will not keep up with time, and there is a value in one’s history and background.  Many of what we experience during our lives have its roots in our history and childhood, and sometimes it takes reflecting back all the way to understand ourselves today.  Well … just when taking videos and photos became readily available, kids now are choosing to take photos only that disappear.  Hence, if you ask a teenager today about any of his or her childhood pictures … they probably have none  … unless their parents have Facebook!  I will probably come back to hate more on Snapchat later on.  For now, let’s jump to the 80’s.