I could expound on the following story for days, but time being about as rare as empathy from a pro-life group for a pregnant rape victim, I shall keep it short.
The crux of the story rests in the deployment of the Florida Gators quarterback, Tim Tebow, as the focus of the 30 second advocacy ad run by Focus on the Family:
The advert will feature the story of Tim Tebow’s mother, Pam.
As a Christian missionary in the Far East 23 years ago, she fell very ill while pregnant and was advised by doctors to have an abortion. She ignored that medical advice and gave birth to a fifth child, her son Tim, the future football star.
The implications are clear: abort a fetus and you could deprive a child of a long and healthy life.
This story is particularly pertinent on a personal level, for my own mother was advised on numerous occasions to abort due to health reasons.
At worst, she was advised, the child will be stillborn.
At best, it might live, before dying anyway.
Yet here I am, all 28 years later romping in the fields and expostulating in blogs.
Am I grateful for my mother’s ability to hold fast and pray hard?
Without a doubt.
Would I ever condemn a woman for having a termination?
Never.
It is a woman’s inherent right to own her body and determine her future: whether it is illness, rape, accidental or importune, the right should never be removed.
Honey-coating the obliteration of choice in ‘family values’ is merely masking the issue.
That women like Pam Tebow and my mother should be celebrated is doubtless; but this does not give the anti-choice lobby the right to shame women into submission.
If only the pro-choice lobby could screen a parallel advocacy ad – now that would provide a real choice for viewers.
This weekend I am a slave to my netbook as I prepare what will be a stonkingly informative lecture, albeit delivered with all the charisma of the Tin Man.
It is late in the day, a subject I am not familiar with and the poor students are edging on rebellion due to administrative errors.
Hopes are high, as are tensions.
Which is why I greeted the commitment to attending Palestinian Night with a degree of trepidation.
With the entrance fee going towards a worthy cause, I figured I would pay then run back to my shackles.
I am glad I didn’t – for this was one of the most moving evenings of its kind that I have attended.
A combination of film, talks, live music and a party that will continue in my envious absence until 2 a.m., it was ameliorated no end by some of the most sumptuous food this side of Amman.
The evening began with a screening of Ross Kemp’s foray into Gaza, part of his exploration of conflict and crime ridden cities.
Observing the construction of tunnels – for which workers are paid $25 a day – it concluded with a visit to a psychiatric ward for child victims of Operation Cast Lead.
As one tiny girl, her skin drawn taut over her tiny cheeks and her eyes deadened with grief burst out suddenly that her mother and father had been shot dead in front of her, the tragedy was impossible to ignore.
Her candid description – “My mother’s head was half gone; my father’s brain was coming out here… They died in front of me” – was galling.
However, and rather peculiarly, while I managed to sustain an emotionless mask throughout, it was the subsequent and final clip of the dabkeh that moved most.
Simply, the woman stated that while we would see the dabkeh, we would not see it live.
This, she explained, was because as Palestinians they rarely see it themselves – with checkpoints preventing easy passage from one city to another, the tradition of villages coming together to dance is lessening.
Watching that dance of joy and knowing that something so simple, so cultural and delightful is becoming almost fabled because of occupation was shattering.
The screenings ended with the above short by Israel filmmaker Yoni Goodman (of Waltz with Bashir fame), which depicts the status quo in Gaza during the Operation.
One viewing is enough to convey a thousand words and sentiments.
Confronted with a gaggle of anthropology students baying for academic blood on Monday, something decidedly irreverent is in order.
And as it has been too long since – what I wholeheartedly believe constitute the true kings of comedy – the Pythons have been posted, the following is decidedly in keeping with the mood:
On the flip-side, the joy of this lecture on anthropology is that the word ‘democratization’ has been utterly absent.
That’s the beauty of anthropology: it focuses on the most interesting facets of humankind, leaving the murk behind.
So here’s to human beings being quirky, cultural and fascinating, rather than complex, contradictory and conflict-ridden.
For example, in Tunisia during the 19th century mixed faith communities would make pacts of protection in case of conflicts or feuds:
In times of danger [...] each Jewish family had a Muslim guarantor to whom it would turn; this person was supposed to protect them from injury and to avenge them if they were harmed.*
How strange, that we seem to be going backward in terms of societal prejudice and persecution, rather than forward.
Our ancestors may have got many things wrong, but some things wonderfully right.
Like communal cohesion.
* Meyers, Allan R. ‘Patronage and Protection: The Status of Jews in a Berber Environment’ in Jewish Societies in the Middle East: Community, Culture and Authority. New York: University Press of America. 1982. pp. 85-105.
This is something quite close to both my academic and – after spending six months in Jordan studying the case – personal heart.
Which is why the following announcement is disheartening, though not altogether unexpected:
Jordan has revoked citizenship from nearly 3,000 Jordanians of Palestinian origin in recent years and should put a stop to the practice, Human Rights Watch (HRW) said in a report released Monday.
HRW said 2,732 Palestinians were stripped of their Jordanian nationality between 2004 and 2008. [Source]
The slow discrimination enacted against Jordanians of Palestinian origin has continued unabated for years.
Yet while it is ‘bravo!’ to Human Rights Watch for highlighting this point in the mainstream news, the question remains: why not sooner?
More rhetorical is the quandary of what follows.
A pessimist, I suspect that the story will elicit a few tuts and gasps of sympathy, before giving way to a story about the world’s largest bowl of hummus.
Such is the fickleness of news.
The reality is that bigotry and discrimination in the name of security is endemic.
One of the points that struck significantly during my interviews with Jordanian nationalist figures was the similarity between the rationales of their organization and that of the far right in Britain.
While Nick Griffin of the British National Party rambles about immigration being the scourge of society because non-English individuals ‘take our jobs, sap the welfare, threaten the security of the isle’, so too are the same tired excuses for bigotry trotted out in the Kingdom.
To be fair, we must concede that Jordan hosts perhaps the largest number of Palestinian refugees in the diaspora.
Let us also note that has treated said refugees substantially better than those in neighbouring states.
Nevertheless, the slow shift towards stripping the Jordanian Palestinians of their citizenship is an abrogation of their human rights.
Another argument runs that the act is a contribution to the Palestinian cause; by rendering thousands of individuals stateless, it ensures that the issue of Palestine remains on the agenda.
I do not buy this.
And neither do the Palestinians denied health care while coughing up blood on the tarmac of Amman (as one elderly respondent related) and being deprived of school books at the age of 6 years.
It is one thing to deny citizenship.
It is a whole other to bestow it, before rescinding it.
Sundays hold the simple joys of life: walks in the park, picnics by the river/sea, swaddling in blankets to read Tolstoy while Norah Jones coos in the dimly lit background…
As I write the sky is an arctic shade of blue and the hills are adorned with a virgin snow so fine that it could be mistaken for sand in texture.
It drifts like talcum powder, but yields the satisfying thud upon stepping nonetheless.
This morning we trespassed on the local golf course and as the sun glanced off the white expanse as a field of sequins, I reluctantly steeled myself to relinquish all prospects of fun for the next two weeks and headed for the office.
But all is not lost, for the following two clips ensure that whether there is sun and snow or darkness and howling wind, a smile is sure to be raised.
First, I cast aside my spindle and kick away the cat to briefly enthrall in the joys that are spontaneous engagement:
And I defy you not to jig and grin to the following ditty by Paolo Nutini (who has monopolized my music intake for the past three weeks):
For those interested in the potency of images over words (of which I am uncontrollably one) the following – tipped by Roba - is a compelling show of the evolution of Al Qaeda’s campaign via the graphic medium:
From the rudimentary:
To the nigh sophisticated laden with puns (pineapple being the symbol of paradise):
Much as I would love to explore the following news more, it is late (I have been diligently awoken by the early call twice now) and a goat’s cheese baguette beckons.
Recent Comments