Here There and Everywhere

This is from today’s Kuwait Times.

KUWAIT: The Interior Ministry defended a new policy of deporting expatriates who run red lights by arguing that “the highest percentage of traffic violations are committed by expats, adding that this constitutes a hazard on the lives of motorists,” reported Al-Jarida.

The ministry in a statement said it had the legal right according to the Foreigners Residency law to deport expats for such offenses. And added that the ministry used this right as it is its administrative right according to the law. (sic)

I am blown away that they can say this with a straight face.

I could hear AdventureMan chuckling in the living room and I called out “what’s so funny?” He came into the kitchen and read me a small tongue-in-cheek article from Money Magazine discussing financial and career advice for fictional character Indiana Jones (the new movie will open May 22, WOO HOOOO!)

Unsolicited Advice for a Mid-Career Adventurer

° Make the case
So clients don’t balk, Jones should play up his staff’s experience and the fact that local help lowers expenses. If he plays it right, profits rise and risk falls. That’s the holy grail. (Kate Ashford)

I always thought Jones was a university professor, so I figured he was funded by grants. And archaeologists - isn’t that what they do for fun, get their hands dirty? Go to the field? We got a good laugh from the Money magazine perspective, and we also think that not all success is to be measured in terms of money and moving up the ladder. Indiana Jones might experience a lot of job satisfaction by being the hands-on guy in the field!

Who knew? Who knew the Kuwait Coast Guard - or the Kuwait Fire Department - now has fire boats? These look pretty new, and we are guessing they are having a practice, out in the Gulf on this beautiful Friday:

Fire boats are fairly specialized pieces of equipment. Once you buy them, you have to learn how to operate them. You don’t want them learning when YOUR boat is on fire, you want them to have had some exercises learning how to use their equipment efficiently. Bravo, Kuwait fire department.

AdventureMan and I watched No Country for Old Men last night, and oh! it held us on the edge of our chairs. At the end, we ran for the phone to call our son and ask “Whoa! What happened??”

In short, we loved the movie (and I can hardly wait to read the book, although Cormac McCarthy goes a lot darker than I care to go). The Coen brothers also go darker than I care to go, but we find ourselves drawn to their movies because there is so much thought put into them, so many references to other genres, other films, and because the characters are so true to life. We first met them in Fargo, a movie we pull out and watch again from year to year - that’s a rare movie. We love the characters, even the bad guys are so human.

It’s the same in No Country for Old Men. Set in the desolation of West Texas, there are whole minutes when you listen to the wind whistling in the desert as the hero hikes down to a drug-exchange-gone-bad.

There is a good guy, a sherif played by craggy-faced Tommy Lee Jones, and an ordinary guy who finds a whole lot of money, and we really want him to get away with it, and then there is a really really bad guy, who is also smart, and . . . well, something inside of him is just bent. He’s not right. The Coen’s have a way of making him both appalling and just a guy doing his job very well. It’s not personal, but we wish he wouldn’t enjoy inflicting harm so much.

What I love about the Coen films is that they can capture the essence of a character so sparely, with just a few words, a few lines. There is a trailer park manager who refuses to give the very very bad guy an address. You hold your breath; she could get blown away, she doesn’t know it. She holds firm. In another scene, an older woman tells a Mexican man who has just helped her “You don’t see too many Mexicans in suits.” So so so politically incorrect, and so ordinarily normal, the plain-spokeness of the elderly. The Coen’s capture the West Texas-ness which permeates the film.

This movie is worth watching again.

As I work in the Project Room, I often have the radio on, BBC. I get to hear all about the US elections from another point of view, I get exposure to music I might otherwise never hear, and I hear things that show up weeks, even months later in the news.

AdventureMan called and asked if I had heard the segment on the Lemba in Zimbabwe. I hadn’t, but I listened closely for the next couple days and it was repeated.

It is about a professor who discovered what he thinks is a replica of the Arc of the Covenant in a dusty museum in Zimbabwe. He explored further, and discovered the Lemba claim ancient connections with the Arc, and had priestly customs similar to old Jewish customs. When they underwent DNA testing, the priestly clan of the Lemba had the same genetic markers as the priestly clan of the Jews, the descendants of Aaron.

How fascinating is that? Legend has always claimed the Arc of the Covenant is or was hidden somewhere in Ethiopia . . . transport to Zimbabwe from Ethiopia would not be out of the question.

I went to BBC news online and did a search - no results. Maybe it takes a while for their newest stories to be documented in their search files.

Googling on the internet, I found Ethiomedia which says the following:

In a newly released book, University of London Professor Tudor Parfitt claims to have located the treasured artifact on a dusty shelf of an out-of-the-way museum in Harare, Zimbabwe.

In his HarperCollins’ book, “The Lost Ark of the Covenant: Solving the 2,500 Year Old Mystery of the Fabled Biblical Ark,” Parfitt describes traipsing around the globe, decoding ancient texts and deciphering numerous clues to locate the enigmatic object.

Along the way, the man dubbed the “British Indiana Jones” by friends, colleagues and the Wall Street Journal uncovered genetic evidence confirming claims by the Lemba tribe that they
are descendants of ancient Israelite priests, the caretakers of the lost Ark.

He experienced a major breakthrough in 1999 when he took DNA samples from 136 male members of the Lemba tribe. In a finding that drew worldwide publicity, a genetic analysis confirmed they were descendants of Aaron, the brother of Moses.

So many discoveries have proven to be fraudulent that I hesitate to put too much faith in this discovery, but I have to admit that it appeals to the little girl in me, who still believes archaeologists have great adventures, and loves the Indiana Jones movies!

(I hear there is a new Indiana Jones movie coming out soon. I hope old Harrison Ford can recapture enough of his youth to make this as good as the first one.)

This morning, as AdventureMan left for work, I was busy reading incoming e-mails and didn’t jump up immediately to lock the door behind him. The Qatteri Cat, as usual, was crying - he hates it when “The Fun Guy” leaves, and he got his baby and cried by the door for a while. Then - I heard a dreaded sound.

We hear it sometimes during the night. The Qatteri Cat is one smart cat - he has learned how to jump up high enough to hit the door handle on his way down, and his weight is enough to open the door. He jumped. I’m up and running, but it is too late, the door is open and the Qatteri Cat is out.

Other people with long-haired cats will know what I am talking about here - you don’t get dressed until you are just ready to leave, and you keep your clothes in closets that stay shut, so you don’t have long cat hair clinging to you as you go about your daily errands. So as I run to the door, I am rapidly calculating whether I can run outside and round up the Qatteri Cat, or whether I have to get dressed first.

It is still early. My Kuwaiti neighbor probably isn’t up, and if his maid sees me, I can claim she was delusional, that I would never be outside in my nightgown. If I get dressed first, the Qatteri Cat could disappear! So out I run, chasing the Qatteri Cat who thinks this is one GREAT game, Mom chasing him. He is making that little “Eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh” sound that cats make when they see birds, or something else irresistable.

I chase him and cut him off, forcing him in a circle and back to the door. He resists, but he also knows when I am serious, I am SERIOUS (it has to do with cat “time-outs” in a room with just his food and litter box, and short term withdrawal of affection) so he reluctantly complies.

Now, he is sulking. He has his baby. He isn’t crying, he has ME in time-out, he has withdrawn his affection, I spoiled his fun. Even though the door is now locked, he tries every now and then, remembering there was a time when it opened.

We were lingering over the last bites of dessert and coffee in our favorite French restaurant when one phone rang and after a brief conversation, my friend turned to the rest of us and said “We have to get home. That was Anwar saying another storm had rolled in.”

We had all known it was a possibility, but wanted to take the chance to get together anyway. It was one of those rare occasions when our husbands were out of town, we could eat at a restaurant WE liked that they didn’t, we could get together and not worry about when we were getting home. We flurried out, I quickly dropped off my friends and headed home.

The streets were relatively quiet and the traffic relatively slow. I found myself thinking about the evening and how far I have come, living in Kuwait. I’m driving at night, and I don’t even feel a surge of fear-filled adrenalin, I’m driving in a sandstorm going ho-hum, just need to get home, and I’ve just had a great evening with female friends.

And I thought “I’m turning into a Kuwaiti woman.”

The West is so couple oriented. I remember when I was living near my parents in Seattle, and my husband was overseas, I hated Sundays; Sundays seemed like couples’ day to me - couples/families go to church, go to breakfast, go out shopping. Mostly on Sunday I would go to church, go to breakfast with a bunch of church friends and then go home, spend the rest of the day reading the Sunday paper and working on projects. If I were out and about, I would only be reminded how lonely I was, how I was missing a piece, I was incomplete.

In the Gulf, most of the social life is segregated - women go to women’s things, men go to men’s things, families do family things. Things are changing, but there isn’t a lot of “married-people-having-dates-with-their-own-spouses going on. Women go to engagement parties, wedding parties, condolence calls, they go shopping, they meet up at restaurants, they get together in one another’s houses. Men meet up at the diwaniyya, a local shisha cafe, they visit their extended family, they hang out and play cards, they race along the streets. The great circle called men’s social life intersects with the great circle called women’s social life intersect only rarely.

And here I am, meeting up for dinner with my female friends, and driving home alone at night through a sandstorm. Yep. I am definitely turning into a Kuwaiti.

Never fear, the Qatteri Cat is on traffic watch today. All is well, you can tell by his relaxed stance. Every now and then, he will utter an alarm - birds come by and taunt him because they are flying freely and he is trapped inside. He’s not smart enough to say “yeh, but I get free food, water and medical care in this gilded cage.” All he knows is that he would love to be free to show those birds a thing or two.

Once, in our Qatar villa, a great big pigeon hit a window and then THUNKED to the ground, not 10 feet from QC, who was allowed in the garden as long as someone was with him. The bird was so big and QC was so astounded, that by the time he decided to go investigate, the bird had recovered consciousness, stood up and shook his wings. He was bigger than QC! As QC thought twice about approaching, the pigeon flew off. I am betting that is about the closest QC has been to a real live bird.

One time (one of many) the Qatteri Cat escaped the yard. This time I knew where he was within the first half hour, because I could hear him crying pitifully. I had to ask a neighbor if I could go into her back yard, and there was QC, high up in a tree, scared and unsure how to get down. There was a wind blowing, and the only thing QC could think of, every time the boughs swayed to a strong gust of wind, was to go higher. He had reached the spot where every gust made him sway like a pendulum. He was terrified.

It took me about an hour to talk him down. First, he had to get over his panic, because his terror was paralyzing him. Second, he didn’t know how to climb down, so he had to turn around, to kind of walk down the tree, which, with gravity, was a very scary thing. He kept turning and then turning back.

(How do you teach a cat to back down a tree?)

Finally, I just kept talking. I locked eyes with him, and every time he would look away, I would say his name, get him focused on me again. Slowly, slowly, he worked his way down (he was up very very high, higher than a ladder could reach). He ended up falling the last 20 feet, but I could catch him. His little heart was beating like thunder, his adrenelin was pumping and I had to hold on to him to get him home. He didn’t want to be held, and I have the scars to prove it.

The neighbor thought I was a nut case, I am sure, but I don’t care. A cat can be so paralyzed by fear that they cling to the tree until they are exhausted and drop to their death. Some cats will figure out how to get down, but not all, and not while a wind is blowing and swaying them back and forth.

As much as I love fresh air, we have to keep the windows closed. He’s a sweet cat. His little brain just goes on hold sometimes. If a bird taunted him, he would be out that window in a heartbeat, no second thoughts, just instinct.

Here’s the problem. Life doesn’t come with an instruction manual. OK, OK, we have our holy books, and they give us character guidelines. I am talking about specifics here, when life hands you those lemons, how do you make lemonade? Specifically!

When we move to Florida, we thought we were in Paradise. We had a house with a big pool, surrounded by shady trees, families of racoons, beautiful gardens - what’s not to like?

Paradise came with chamaeleons, lizards, cockroaches, even in the best houses. And fleas. We had to learn how to deal with them.

During our first and only flea infestation, at first we blamed the cats. Being a terrible mother, I asked my son to help, and he went into the walk in shower (No! Not naked! He was wearing swimming trunks!) to bathe the cats with anti-flea shampoo. I would get the cat trapped, put the cat in the shower, he would shampoo them, let one out and I would hand him the next one. Both cats loved him the best; he had chosen them from the litter.

When I saw this photo on LOLCATS, I really had to laugh.

see more crazy cat pics

Just so you will know, the solution is to take the cats to the vet and have them treated for fleas professionally. While the cats are at the vets, pour 20 Mule Team Borax over all your carpets and in all your upholstered furniture, let it stand overnight, and vacuum it all up. After you vacuum, bring the cats back. It really works. The borax creates a saline environment in which the fleas (and cockroaches) can’t survive, but it doesn’t hurt pets.

When I was young, I never would have thought that I would join a bible study on the life of Moses that took a whole year. When I was young, I was a believer, but never dreamed I would really STUDY the word. One day a person invited me in, and I found myself learning things I never would have dreamed.

I remember learning this segment, from Exodus, which is part of the readings for day. Moses listened to his father-in-law, and he had to learn to delegate, so he wouldn’t be worn out:

Exodus 18:13-27

13 The next day Moses sat as judge for the people, while the people stood around him from morning until evening. 14When Moses’ father-in-law saw all that he was doing for the people, he said, ‘What is this that you are doing for the people? Why do you sit alone, while all the people stand around you from morning until evening?’ 15Moses said to his father-in-law, ‘Because the people come to me to inquire of God. 16When they have a dispute, they come to me and I decide between one person and another, and I make known to them the statutes and instructions of God.’ 17Moses” father-in-law said to him, ‘What you are doing is not good. 18You will surely wear yourself out, both you and these people with you. For the task is too heavy for you; you cannot do it alone. 19Now listen to me. I will give you counsel, and God be with you! You should represent the people before God, and you should bring their cases before God; 20teach them the statutes and instructions and make known to them the way they are to go and the things they are to do. 21You should also look for able men among all the people, men who fear God, are trustworthy, and hate dishonest gain; set such men over them as officers over thousands, hundreds, fifties and tens. 22Let them sit as judges for the people at all times; let them bring every important case to you, but decide every minor case themselves. So it will be easier for you, and they will bear the burden with you. 23If you do this, and God so commands you, then you will be able to endure, and all these people will go to their home in peace.’

24 So Moses listened to his father-in-law and did all that he had said. 25Moses chose able men from all Israel and appointed them as heads over the people, as officers over thousands, hundreds, fifties, and tens. 26And they judged the people at all times; hard cases they brought to Moses, but any minor case they decided themselves. 27Then Moses let his father-in-law depart, and he went off to his own country.