There you have it. The new look of Tololy’s Box, done entirely by Black Cats, without whose help I would have probably messed things up. The header is my work though and I am pretty proud of it, so far at least.

Welcoming the new year, both the Year of the Lord 2006 and the Hijri year of 1427 (in about 30 days), as 2006 coincides to begin in less than two hours, I send out warm wishes for peace of mind, and peace on earth to everyone. 2005/14256was a year of affliction to many, a year of natural disasters to many more, and to some a year of inner growth. May 2006/1427 prove to be more logical and soothing, and may it bring you and your loved ones blessings and joy.

I shall quote Prometheus and think of 2006/1427:
” A child of yours is named as my deliverer “.

This is an open letter to all Fastlink personnel, specifically to their Customer Care division, and to the company�s client base in Jordan. I shall write out of personal experience and will not attempt to criticize in empty words. My account is not meant to bash the company or its employees, but to bring back to their attention that I, as their customer, have the full right to complain of lack of professionalism and manners. The name of the Fastlink employee who needs additional training will be disclosed in this account, as well as in the official complaint I shall make at Fastlink HQ, and possibly in other materials.

I had the chance to visit Fastlink�s corner in Jubaiha Safeway stores at precisely 4:20 PM, today, Thursday December 29th, 2005. The purpose of my visit was to finish a transaction concerning the changing of a pre-paid offer into a post-paid one. Had I known any better, I would have saved myself the money, the time, and the patience I lost in this call.

The procedure was pleasant enough, official enough, until the Fastlink employee named Tareq Ershaid handed me two papers to sign. A quick look at the papers proved that the printer was obviously jammed when they were produced, and this caused the very words contained in the contract to be like a game of crosswords. I refused to sign the papers and demanded another copy, and at this point, Mr.Ershaid said nothing. He proceeded with the official steps, took my money as could be expected, and asked me again to sign the papers.

I refused to sign, again, and asked for a proper copy of the contract. It should not be so strange to ask for a copy of your contract printed out properly, no? Apparently this is unheard of at Fastlink. Mr.Ershaid, and praised be his manners, then resorted to another tactic. He literally told me that he has other customers to tend to, and has no time for this. My shock was unspeakable, and he did not stop at that, having a bad hair day no doubt. He added that he would change something in the contract to make my deposit five JDs instead of three, if I do not sign the paper.

Customer Care has no limits. Mr.Ershaid even said that he would take the papers without my signing them if the need be so, and that my signature is not really that crucial. I was scandalized by this. Yet I was very short on time and did not wish to make a scene because things on such occasions get ugly, so I signed with the full intention of filing my complaint anywhere it may be read.

Following is a picture of the contract that I received, I shall be writing about this to any source that may wish to hear of it. Should additional information be needed to prove this case, I will provide any data without hesitation.

I find it hard to digest that a printer is not functioning properly, and a firm as gigantic as Fastlink cannot replace it. The case maybe so, but shouldn�t Mr.Ershaid have known better than to print out a blurred contract and hand it in to a customer? At the very base of professionalism is respecting clients, and I see no respect in what he did. He could have told me that the printer is not functioning as should be expected, and I would have left with no hard feelings. He could have, at the very least, apologized for the mess of words he generated. Yet he did not, and he added to that his insolent comments and semi-threats. Funny how he only said those words after he took my money, don�t you think?

I would have guessed such people undergo certain training courses on how to deal with the public, how to promote the company�s products, or say � and I am just guessing here, how to show some respect to perfect strangers after you take their cash. I was obviously mistaken, and I am extremely unimpressed.

My sister called Fastlink�s customer service number, and the girl who answered was gentle enough. She urged us to take measures to make this known to the company, and by God, take measures I will.

All for good reasons,and as unusual of her, Tololy failed to publish as (little?) as a word of late. She has been severely sick for the past number of days, call it purification -as she likes to coin it-, it was a purgatory contrary to Dante’s, in her own bed.

The smell of illness still lingers in her three-holed nostrils, the hair, the clothes, the bed. The feel of weakness was humbling, very humbling. That–that indescribable sentiment of insignificance and defiance at once still visits her now as she recovers. She can at least get out of the bed without feeling cold and dizzy, she can walk steady and say a few words after being silent for this past period -something she is not used to and does not practice willingly.

Much time she found at her disposal to think, of many a thing. I would certainly rate it strange had she not spent her time thinking, she did not sleep at nights and stuck to that damned mattress, silent, under the sheets and the Paris wool hat during the day. What else could she have done, really? Mayhaps the fever had something to do with the hallucinations, the so-called visions, it’s your body heat Tololy. Nothing more, nothing less.

Crippled and static she recalled the beggar she did not provide change for, the innumerable sins, The Beloved… Yes, she remembered The Beloved only when she managed to snooze for a bit. It was something like a sweet summer nap, yet she awoke with the taste of humid salt on her lips, shedding precious tears for the loss of her.
Then she felt she was going to join The Beloved in that other realm, a moment of revelation; both tragic and joyous. Fever was at its best at that hour, deep in the garb of dark, and she literally wanted to have her back, as always, but now more profoundly, more solemnly. Proximity to death is healing.

But she was spared and did not turn into a metaphysical notion, a name recorded by a circle of kinsfolk and friends. She was touched by the warm concern of Niwhsa and Sabri Hakim, and she wishes to thank them from the very bottom of her heart for their thoughtfulness and care.

Illness provides one with an invaluable chance to reflect on matters. It gave her a minute of alleged wisdom, a gift it is being able to value health, and not giving mundane affairs more weight than they deserve. A time to read as well, she managed to conclude three works of literature, and she is not complaining.

A warm wish for a Merry Christmas to all those celebrating. Throw in another for Happy Holidays, enjoy the beautiful season everyone!

Alone in the office, never imagined this happening, not in a zillion light years. My chair has beautiful prowess that I unearthed but this morning. I placed it in the centre of the room, and made it go round and round. Round and round it went, my chair.

Humanity has advanced, when it has advanced, not because it has been sober, responsible, and cautious, but because it has been playful, rebellious, and immature.

- Tom Robbins

I am in a playful mood, and by the same token I take everything to be as playful as I am today. The window suddenly opened and a gush of cold Decemebr air sent a chill down my spine. The door responded by closing instantly, and I had my own little storm, in the office. Just the two of us, alone.

This phenomenal fur jacket adds to the relish of the weather, the black nail polish adorning the very tips of my now-pinkish-now-bluish fingers is out of this world. Controversialist? Mayhaps. Witch? Add wicked.

Blogging via e-mail. This is something. Introduced to so many technological advancements today, I am overwhelmed.

As promised, the second nexus of Southern Encounters; pictures taken in Samara, comes your way. The visual representations you are about to see are somewhat of a different taste than those featured before. Some were taken in the city of Karak itself, and some in the Samara, the village. I enjoyed capturing those pictures and I can willingly promise you some more, perhaps of a different city - a different village, once I get the chance to dust my traveling abilities. Brace yourselves, Culture is showing.

The first picture I choose to share is that of prophet Noah’s tomb. Now I am not an expert but word of mouth has it that this is where the prophet lies, undisturbed. The tomb is located on a hill top close to the Castle of Karak, the situation is fantastic. I personally would like to be buried in such a place, wouldn’t you?

The first picture situated below is an image of the old Masjid (Mosque) in Samara. As you may have noticed, the structure itself is no more than a humble room with quite a nice garden.Note the original “speakers” at the top of the Mosque, those are the primitive form of what is called a “Ma’thana” in Arabic. A Ma’thana is the projected erect bit of most Mosques’ buildings, it is the place from which the call for prayer is announced, generally speaking.

Progress comes, and a new Mosque is built. The second picture shows you what the new prayer house looks like, and you can clearly see the proper, traditional Ma’thana.

The two coming pictures were taken in the city of Karak. Those are random houses that sum up the modern architecture of the city. Being placed on a mountain top, there is little room for expansion. Therefore many houses are now built outside the city centre, call the new location the suburbs if you will. Better organization, and better services are found in those areas.

Those are two streets in Karak city. The picture to the left is of an oldish street, note the building to the right and the small chair on the pavement. Old men normally sit by street sides or in front of shops, where they talk and smoke. It is not at all uncommon for a stranger to stop you in the street and relate your family history as you stare with a mouth wide open, that is the magic of small societies. It’s one big family that shares the same history.

The picture to the right is of a more, commercialized -I should say- street. Some sustain that this is the main street in the city.

An eye for random beauty, I flatter myself. Wind blowing and fragile tree branches dancing to its beat, a picture of that moment in time.

Two kids playing in the streets of Samara. I honestly find photography a most thrilling form of Art, you capture time when you take a picture. That’s a miracle. The following pictures were also taken in Samara, one being of the same Arched structure that I do not know the function of, feature previously in Southern Encounters I, the other being of a distant goat herd in some valley.

My Art teacher of some time ago once told me that the donkey was the first engineer. For in ancient times, where the donkey trod it would open a new road. And there you have it, a donkey is an engineer. This animal is very useful to farmers, they use it for moving from one place to another.

One of the most beautiful spectacles to behold is the reflection of old men by that old store. The white textile on two of the men’s heads is called a “Hatta”, and the black ring on it is called a “Igal”. This is traditional men’s wear in Jordan, colors of Hatta vary: Some are pure white in totality, some are red and white, and some are white and black.

In Palestine and Iraq, as well as the Gulf region, men wear the Hatta and Igal as well.

Last but not least, I introduce “Ayzar”. A small patch of land with ruins and a single tree standing in the middle. I do not know to what period of time those ruins belong, but one interesting fable states that there is gold in this area. Many stories have been fabricated about golden treasures and relics existing in various locations in Karak’s rural side, and I do not find the assumption illogical. A great many civilization inhabited the place, it would be safe to assume there are things hidden here or there.

This concludes Southern Encounters II.