This is an excerpt from The Odyssey’s Book of the Dead or Book 11. To make matters simple I will provide you with some information on what is actually taking place. Odysseus, the much-debated epic hero, journeys to Hades’ Kingdom of Decay and there he meets the murdered king Agamemnon’s spirit. Agamemnon’s spirit tells him of how Clytaemnestra, the former king’s wife, assassinated him upon his homecoming from Troy.

I do not see the need to delve into prolonged particulars. But I think it is essential to draw your attention to the possible cause of Clytaemnestra’s blood thirst. Agamemnon had brought with them from Troy a dame called Cassandra, daughter of king Priam of Troy, as a prize of war. This clearly posed a threat in his wife’s eyes and played well on her jealousy and did incur tremendous disapproval from the part of feminists in defense of her reactions. She first was subject to the seduction of a man named Aegisthus and later plotted with him the annihilation of her husband.

The genesis of the story now revealed, I invite you to leaf through what Agamemnon tells Odysseus upon meeting him in Hades’ Halls. It strikes me as an unjustified audacity, especially from a dead person. But let me not distort your opinions beforehand, explore the passage as you will.

“ I raised my hands, but then beat them on the ground, dying, thrust
through by a sword. The bitch turned her face aside, and could not even bring
herself, though I was on my way to Hades, to shut my eyes with her hands or to
close my mouth. There is nothing more degraded or shameful than a woman who can
contemplate and carry out deeds like the hideous crime of murdering the husband
of her youth. I had certainly expected a joyful welcome from my children and my
servants when I reached my home. But now, in the depth of her villainy, she has
branded with infamy not herself alone but the whole of her sex, even the
virtuous ones, for all times to come.”

There’s this violent desire within me to talk of things personal today, but I am prudent enough, for the moment, not to fall to that. I do not entirely feel good about this resistance, but then again, I am not supposed to.

Perhaps one of the most used currencies in our everyday lives is health. It is often underestimated, while we enjoy it, and craved once we lose it. I find it appealing to muse over the usage of my own words : “while we enjoy it”. If we enjoy it, then we ought to feel it, appreciate it, live it. But we don’t. Not the grand majority.

I remember volunteering to spend quality time with children plagued with cancer. It was surreal to listen to them and to watch them play; their skins yellow-green and their little heads naked of hair. And then, just as we were playing, the nurse would come to take one child away for a “session”.

When I first arrived to the centre, there were people clustered around the main portal. Men and women. Then a black van came and the men hugged the now-crying women. I remember how sad I felt for them although I did not really know them or their misery. But that’s the miracle of being human, our sorrows and joys are common and don’t need much elaboration.

Some three hours later I was walking through the corridors of the centre, then passing through the same portal and by the ghosts of those men and women. All the people in the outside world looked so different in such a sudden manner. I stared at their faces and I stared at their hair. Having someone walk in front of me so slowly did not bother me anymore, being pushed out of the way by someone in a hurry seemed so trivial. Even my lectures and my whole personal universe were nothing. Nothing at all.

There are other worlds within our world, which seems so limited and yet is endless. Hospitals and clinics are one, they remind you that there are people who battle suffering while you complain about, what, trifles.

Happy mother’s day, mama.

I realize that this might be the very first entry dedicated to food in the Box, and it is not at all, not in any way, particular to Arabic food or to a specific culture. The pictures were taken during a party last week, and the food was heavenly.

“Food is our common ground, a universal experience. ”

-James Beard

Kindness and compassion toward all living things is a mark of a civilized society. Conversely, cruelty, whether it is directed against human beings or against animals, is not the exclusive province of any one culture or community of people. Racism, economic deprival, dog fighting and cock fighting, bull fighting and rodeos are cut from the same fabric: violence. Only when we have become nonviolent toward all life will we have learned to live well ourselves.

- Cesar Chavez

As I was checking my inbox this morning, I found a comment on a November post I had published under the title “A tale rarely told: The purest Aryans”. The entry handles the racism that some Circassians have, and tries to shed some light on the reasons behind it. Many people did not like that entry, and in that choice of taste they are free, and one of them was the person who sent me this morning’s comment. The comment is published but for some odd reason it does not show up on the permanent page of the entry, it only makes itself available once one clicks on the “Post a comment” icon.

For that reason, and because this comment was such a nice read, I am posting it here.

Yet another Circassian said…

First of all, i understand the appeal of my circassian culture. I also understand what it’s like to stand out as different in a crowd. I’m not going to be humble, circassians do have distinctively attractive features, and besides that we have a well-defined cultural identity to go with it.

I have seen a lot of people coming from homes where one parent is circassian and the other parent not; it often aint pretty. Some of these people I consider brothers and sisters to me, it pains me to to see such confusion. But I’ve also witnessed success stories that were able to avoid this: Upbrininging! Your child is either this or that (and be realistic).

As a minority/majority, an ethnic group or religious group -whatever- we are entitled to preserving what ever culture we have left. it is our natural right! I’ve seen racism among jordanians and palestinians and couldn’t believe it myself. So take it easy, this happens to the best of families.

Have the courage to accept who you are, live, and let live. Has it crossed your mind that this feeling of others being racist is just a reflection of your own thoughts? I think not. It’s much easier to blame others - it’s even easier when you are partially one of them.

Jordan is as much my country as any other Jordanian, but it is disappointing to still see people like you (especially with your clamed adiga lieange) accuse us of being racist.

This ‘racism’ has been kind to us and we will not change, so everyone better deal with it. If I were you I wouldnt worry about being a victim. You certainly can phrase your opinions well. But how about weighing your words first.

That was wholesome, no? Following is my reply:

” Welcome to Tololy’s Box, Yet another Circassian. Your comment was a joy to read, somewhat challenging and edgy, precisely what I was looking for.

Circassians, and all other nations, have distinctive features. The only distinctive feature that would separate some people from others and make them feel on a higher pedestal would be to have all children born with something extra, like an arm or a leg, if you wish.

Reading the second passage of your comment made me think you very wise; indeed there are always failures and success stories in any family, be it multicultural or not. I do beg to differ with you, however, on the point stating that parents should rear their children as being only one side of the coin. That is a waste of culture, let alone identity (for the children). I do not expect you to be nodding your head in my agreement.

As I positively have read my post, I do not see any point where I said Circassians have no right or business preserving their culture. I often stress that this culture is beautiful and that I personally would hate to see it lost (you may wish to go over my post again). And, indeed, there are still major hints of racism in the whole world, but does that justify the act? I think not.

I especially enjoyed reading “Have the courage to accept who you are, live, and let live”. I am not sure why you said that but I thank you for the free advice. I think it is valid for most people, even those who are so convinced they are better than everyone else, wouldn’t you say?

Has it crossed my mind that this feeling of others being racist is just a reflection of my own thoughts? It has. But then the words were no games, and they were no riddles either. The actions and pointing and the bullying were not false, and they mentioned me by name. Oh, and I even have witnesses should you care to carry this further. Now, there remains little doubt in my mind that these actions were targeting me, your mind may think what it pleases. Perhaps you would care to question many other people who had to put up with such folly from some Circassians, and that I tell you should be good exercise. Trust that this debate pleases me very little, it is a direct stab at a heritage I most adore, and at a people I am related to, with or without your consent. And the most trying bit about it is that, while I was trying to be objective and to pose a real problem, some actually believe I am attacking my own blood. That is, needless to say, a scandalous assumption and I do not accept it.

Positively, Jordan is the home of the Circassians who live here. They are a devoted and a loyal people to their second home, and this a quality one admires. I cannot tell how you deduced that I accuse all Adigas of being racist, again I am obliged to advise you to read my post thoroughly and to spare your fingers the extra baseless words.

Funny how your last passage struck me as absolutely contrastive with everything you, so eloquently, said in the previous ones. Would you mind explaining this:
” This ‘racism’ has been kind to us and we will not change, so everyone better deal with it”?.

Talk about weighing words first.”

The third and final set of pictures of Damascus. I am exalted at the near taste of freedom from uploading pictures and trying my patience but good things do come to those who wait, some times. To pick up from where we halted yesterday, the following group of shots were taken in Abu El Ezz restaurant. The first one shows two young men making food, and you can actually see the door from which you enter the vast multi-storey premises to the left of the food-makers.

Two views inside the restaurant, and one from the window right by where I was seated.

Again with the streets of Damascus, the first picture shows a man who makes fixing shoes his profession, and the other features two boys cleaning shoes, I presume, and one of them is having a sandwich while he’s at it.

I loved the facade of this building, I am not sure why. It seemed very real and very beautiful. Next to it is an old door in a very narrow street, you can see the shadow of the bus and a man walking past the door; that’s additional relish for you.

People going about their daily business, how real they seem as opposed to the worn-out images we see in the news.

Finalmente, “Al Qaryeh” restaurant where I had my lunch. The place was very nice and the weather absolutely pleasant - the food was not that good though. It was cold and I did not really enjoy it that well because I was already semi-full. Nonetheless, it was a good stop.

This concludes “A day in Damascus” series, I would’ve preferred to post all the pictures in one entry but that was an impossibility given the current state of the machines I operate. At all costs, I hope those pictures would give a “human” face to the people in Syria, and I certainly hope you enjoyed them.

Bringing you the second set of pictures shot during the past weekend in Damascus -Syria. I finally managed to gather some extra energy to post this, and to upload the pictures you are about to see. To complain about my PC and internet connection is really such a redundant fit, therefore I won’t do it.

This coming set of three was shot at “El Ezz” restaurant, also known as “Abu El Ezz”. This is probably my favorite location in the whole city of Damascus, alongside another restaurant. The food is amazing, the atmosphere magical, and the place just reeks of culture and art. I have always been accustomed to visiting it at night, they offer splendid entertainment; a live band playing Arabic tunes on real Arabic musical instruments, a singer who always seems to be high, people who are willing to volunteer for enchanting the public with their dancing, and loads upon loads of tourists, and all this is very affordable.

Now for some pictures from Souk Al Hamedeyye.

A hand-less bride model, is that very twisted or am I imagining things? Shirts and tops for very little money, and hand-made fridge magnets.

The following picture was also taken in Souk Al Hamedeyye. The interesting bit about it is that it is part of a series of similar signs, available in multiple languages and put up high above the heads of the crowds in the tunnel that is the Souk. It calls upon the Lebanese not to listen to a said Waleed Jinblat, and not to antagonize Syria. Politics, I would rather not have my fix while shopping.

I seem to enjoy shooting heaps of slippers, I find them so intriguing and so mass-production-isque. Some of them are really cheap stuff though.

Finally, a street in the Syrian capital.

More pictures are coming, once I manage to trick the machine into performing for me. Patience is virtue.

Since a promise remains dead until you enact it, I am sharing some of the pictures I took during my very brief visit to Syria this past Saturday, March 11th. I would be glad if they find your liking.

The first two pictures are what could be seen through the window next to my seat in the bus. For those who don’t know this, it usually takes up to four or five hours to get to Damascus from Amman. In some occasions the trip takes a bit longer due to border paper work and such, Jordanians do not need a visa to visit Syria, which is why so many of them go there very often. In this trip I only went to Damascus, the city itself. The pictures are in no particular order.

This is the door of a very famous and old ice cream shop in the traditional Souk Al-Hamedeyye (Souk means market). This place is well-deserving of its reputation, I simply love the Arabic ice cream they make at “Bikdash”. This is a picture of my share, yum yum!

Then a view of an angel of this long tunnel-like Souk, it is a living gala, always bustling with life. And a gold shop’s window, very similar to what we have in Jordan.

The entrance of the Souk and another look into its depths.

I think this building in the next image is a court of some sort, I am not sure though. My personal favorite picture is the ultimate one, a simple shop selling all things China-made captured from above, near Baramkeh station.