Thinking of Um-Nizar

The story of Um Nizar was told to me yesterday by a close friend of friends. The story goes that in the mid 90's she was finally able to return back to Lebanon for the first time in 10 years(due to the civil war) and at that time was doing her doctoral research. Her research,the topic of which I am unaware, took her through the many refugee camps in Lebanon. However when she was in the most notorious (and awful) camp 3in Al-Hilwe she met a very memorable woman there named Um Nizar. Now from the story it was a bit hard to understand the relevance of the name, she made a statement hinting that many of the Palestinian women had the nom du guerre of "Um Nizar" but this particular woman was actually the mother of Nizar, so her name was more fitting. Now Um Nizar ran a school in the 3in Al-Hilwe camp for the refugee children (of which she was one) and through the complicated political realities of the Palestinian refugee camp was really a matriarch of the school. Um-Nizar taught the children songs and history of a Homeland that they would never see in their lifetimes. That being said, the story goes that when the Israeli army invaded Lebanon they came to the camps. As the camp was under seige Um Nizar got the children in the school for protection and soon the Israeli tanks arrived. Here is where many details of the story were left out, needless to say a high ranking Israeli military person (captain, corporal, general? I dont really know) almost killed Um Nizar with his bare hands, she survived and asked him why to which he responded "Because you are more dangerous than Abu 3mmar (Yasser Arafat)." He told her that her school gave her access to 300 young minds and she was the one making his mission fail by maintaining Palestinian identity in the hearts and minds of the next generation. Apparently when recounting the story, Um Nizar, the 5ft giant of a woman, cannot help but laugh through the entire thing. And therein lies the reason why I am thinking about this story still. There is a saying in 3rabi that essentially translates to "that which is most tragic is also funniest". I wonder how a woman who has lost everything, and lives in quite possible the worst place on earth, can recount a story of almost being killed and laugh. At this moment I dont really have an analysis for it, just tired musings and memories of Um Nizar who I cannot seem to get off my mind

-M7

Long gone

Wow a lot can happen in the 5 weeks that I dont post on my blog but what can I say there is a big difference between experiencing things and then wanting to write about them after I experienced them. So much has happened since my last post I dont even know where to begin or what to talk about specifically. For beginners the first thing on my mind is how much I now feel at "home" here in Chicago. I love my neighborhood, my landlords son offers me good incite into the humorous world of an 18 year old boy, and things are generally busy and filled with people on most days when it is warm. There are many whole in the wall type restaurants in the area, some that I still have to discover, being a non-spanish speaking vegan makes me a bit hesitant to try out the local mexican restaurants, not because I am afraid of the food but because the reality is I am imposing my english language and vegan diet upon them. That is another thing I have been thinking about a lot lately, the long hair, light skin, and inability to speak Spanish leaves me to be mislabeled a lot in my neighborhood. Many people upon first sight (I assume) consider me a random white dude. I can almost read word for word in their faces (what is he doing here?). The sad reality is that many of these times of neighborhoods and communities in Chicago are facing gentrification, more heavily in the areas like Pilsen and Humbolt Park etc. This far south has not really experienced it at all yet, the south side is still too "poor" for upper-class whites to want to move in, and the fact that there is no university in this area also plays a role. That being said, when someone with light-skin & long hair cruises through West Lawn on a red road bike I am sure it leaves a bad taste in the mouth of my neighbors, and frankly I cant blame them at all, in fact I encourage that feeling. I often wonder if I am playing my role in gentrification as well, true I am POC, and working-class, but the reality is I have not done much, or anything really, to become a part of the community here. Also my privileges cast shadows upon those of my neighbors, and again the way that I look and the fact I dont speak any Spanish doesn't help me either. That being said I dont think I could trade in any of this neighborhood, not a single part of it, for anything in the gentrified areas. There is so much beauty in this area, sure its run down, the trash is every where, and the city generally neglects it, but you can feel true relationships between people. There families hanging out on the stoops, the honk of the Corn vendors horn, the daily ice cream truck playing that same terrible song, and the laugh of children riding their bikes and shooting each other with nerf guns faintly rings through my windows. That however is not the total reality, people at work keep telling me "just wait until summer comes" meaning just wait until the violence starts to spike. My neighborhood is not a bad place at all, in fact from what I can gather there is zero to little gang activity. However the area where I work is right on the divide between the black and latino communities and has a bit of a history and "reputation". 63rd and Kedzie is known for some violent upswings, there was a shooting right outside the Markaz all ready this year. Last year the jewelry store across the street got robbed at gun point which resulted in multiple injuries and I believe one of the people trying to hold up the store died right there on the corner just a block from the store being robbed. So with the city living comes the ups and downs, I guess I will only really be able to know what its like once I live through it this summer but I am excited for summer. The city has been slowly becoming more and more alive as the weather gets warmer and warmer and you cant help but love to see all the beautiful black and brown children out in the streets on a warm day. So Chicago feels more "normal" now, I crave the south-side. Whenever I go downtown, or any other place, it feels nice to come back to my apartment on the quite street, lined with houses filled with families speaking Spanish on their stoops as their kids ride bikes up and down the street. Life seems much real-er here than any other place I have spent time in. Everyone is trying to get by, its true, but there isnt the crazy business-like style of life there is in downtown Chicago, or in Madison even. People have time to just exist, to just be with each other, be with their families, and spend time living. It is something that the richer areas of Chicago could learn from these streets, and if Chicago needs anything, its probably to chill-the-fuck-out every once in a while. And most importantly I need to chill-the-fuck-out every once in a while as well. As I get more settled here I am beginning to navigate the Chicago social scene closer and closer trying to find my niche...its tricky business, it is hard to find people I really click with. But in the end I have to remind myself not to let that get me anxious, after all in a lot of ways I am happier here than I have ever been before in my life. Sure life isnt perfect, and there is still a lot that I wish could be different. But my life as always been like that, I have always spent my time wishing to change things and I guess that is okay. It is a process after all, and in reality if everything was what I wanted it to be life maybe a bit boring. For the time being there is quite a few things to be desired which translates to a lot of work that needs to be done. That being said as summer creeps nearer the Sun is shining more and more on the south-side and that makes my new home feel even more homely.

What does it mean?

I am not a religious person, nor am I really a believer in things such as "fate". I dont like the idea that I am not in control of my own destiny. I dont like to think that no matter what in the end it is not up to me, and worst of all, everything has been predestined to happen that way all ready. I feel that doesn't allow enough possibility for the totality of human expression. But I digress...the reason these things are on my mind is because there have been a few notable times in my life where I feel things are coalescing, that is to say many things seem to be intersecting. Now if I was a religious person I may say God is sending me a sign, but I am not...therefore I think it is just that my brain is making connections between things that are happening around me. There was a funeral for the mother of one of Youth on Monday. I didnt know the mother was sick, I got a text shortly after I woke up monday morning from a coworker telling me about the death and offering me a ride to go to the "wake" for lack of a better english term. There have actually been quite a few deaths surrounding marakz folks these past two months, or at least that is what it seems like. In addition to the deaths, and this one which was particularly powerful since I took part in the funeral rituals, there have been some seemingly big changes/occurrences. I feel like my life is rapidly approaching a cross roads, lately I have kind of felt that my life lacks direction or purpose, I thought that would come with this job, and it has to a certain extent, at least I am in the "real world" so to speak but I still feel antsy, feel worried, feel like I do not know what I am supposed to be doing...feel like I am not really accomplishing anything. I feel like there is an earthquake about to happen, I do not know how to describe it other than that. I have been attempting to follow the uprising in Jerusalem over these past few days as closely as possible. It sounds ridiculous to say but all of these things seem interconnected for me, I feel like I want to do something more, something bigger, something more global and connected. I feel like I am wasting my time discussing assonance and consonance with youth, there are more important things for them. There are more important things for all of us, why cant we harness it? Why do I constantly feel like something is missing, like I could be doing something more or something different. I want to also do more with the youth, I feel like we could be harnessing their life experiences and backgrounds more. What if we had a political education class as part of the program? A way to provide political analysis for the real life situations that the youth live everyday. Its not about "teaching" or "empowering" these kinds have the power, they dont need anyone to give it to them, they dont need anyone to teach them anything. Rather its just political analysis, something that they sure as hell arent going to learn in school, something that is deliberately not introduced to them. There are so many conversations I want to sit down and have with these youth, I feel like they have been robbed of their true identities. Robbed of the possibility to see anything bigger, anything larger, or to be able to examine their lives, why they are the way they are. Instead they have been inundated with the same personal responsibility, work hard for the American dream, bullshit and are convinced that things either happen in a vacuum or are completely unrelated to one another. Perhaps I have come off sounding high and mighty, that is the opposite of what I| am trying to do. Because the reality is I dont have anything to offer the youth I work with, they have it all, they have the absolute most valuable thing for them...their life experience. I dont got that, and shit my life is not one to be teaching from. Instead what I can offer is just a different angle to look at things, which is to say I dont offer anything that someone couldnt get from just tilting their head or adjusting the light level...its not about what I have to offer, because this narrative is theirs...not mine. But then again what is my narrative? What will my tombstone read on it when I'm dead...actually scratch that I dont want a tomb stone, I dont even need a marked grave, but what will my name mean in the minds of those who knew me? What am I supposed to be doing to get this feeling of urgency and hesitancy to go away? Yeah I definitely feel there is an earthquake coming and I dont know what is going to make it and what is going to be rebuilt...but maybe that is for the best

-M7

Little Free Write

Saturday @ the markaz, mastering the pain
Slidin' down a slippery slope, still saying sane
Youth that don't listen, your cranium'll meet my cane
Asoonance & Consonance will grow your brain
Cuz if you wanna beat me you gotta train
Cuz I eat fake poets alive, spit out their names
I even beat the devil before, shit out his flames
After all what can you do today, talkin' bout the rain
Cuz we all sliding down that slippery slope, still stayin sane
Saturday @ the markaz, mastering the pain....

My first Saturday at work in a long time was spent with the Youth Program at the Markaz. Me and two other youth program interns led a workshop on assonance, consonance, and alliteration. After a break the youth were supposed to do a free write or to add to a piece that they will be performing in a month. Here is the best I can do in 10 minutes at the Markaz.

-M7

The Swing-of-things

Since the Narcicyst concert not too many strange or "bloggable" things have happened here in the Chi. I have started to find a bit of a niche, a bit of a routine so to speak...finally getting in the swing of things. A party on the north side last weekend left a bit to be desired, perhaps I have outgrown my "punk rock" phase, perhaps I just didnt feel the hour bus ride was worth the party that I got to in the end but either way it was fine. I spent most of the night in a hallway, carrying on nonsensical conversation with drunk folks while I was completely sober, until about 4:00am when I was dropped off home. The following night was much more fun, a sunday spent at my house, a couple of folks came by, we ate, drank, and were merry. It is always interesting to be able to talk to people who end up to surprise you in the sense that you thought you knew them already and they turn out to be someone different or you get along with them better than you would have expected so. The majority of sunday was spent with one friend until the rest of them joined a couple hours later, but it was comfortable, they know how to carry a conversation, are a comical person, and I like them more every time I see them and realize how off my 1st impressions were. Our evening was well spent, we all laughed and analyzed, talked about gender, culture, race...race...race..it's such a change to have POC in my life all the time everyday, its...wonderful.
Otherwise things at the Markaz are well, not much seems to happen, plus there has been a lot of reshuffle, now I am an official member of the youth program in addition to doing the cultural work that I got hired to do. Working with the youth program is a great experience, its wonderful to spend 3 hours a night with a group of inner-city youth of color. The last meeting there was a long conversation about the term "3beed", we sat in a circle and all went through our feelings. It was stressful as hell, seeing how far we have come as POC, seeing how badly internalized racism and racial privilege still affects us to this day. The conversation was tense, and surprising seeing how even the black youth said that they really didnt care about the use of the word. It got the point where people said "it doesnt matter what people call you, they are just words" or arguing that "the meaning changed so its okay". Throughout the debate that ensued a few of us argued about the word, about history, etc I dont think many people swapped sides. However it ended on a positive note with people saying regardless of feelings this was one of the banned words in the markaz, people can have their own issues outside the space, but inside that is not tolerated. The youth have also started to take a liking to me I think, we joke around, they seem to trust me to a certain level, and I am getting to know them all personally.
My job, and just things in general have really made me hone my politics. It has really brought to light the difference between academic la la theory and the reality. Nothing I learned in books, lectures, and seminars matters to the people that I actively talk to everyday. These theories are of course not useless inherently, but unless there is a way to communicate the importance to a group of people who dont have time to sit down for an academic lecture it makes no difference. Someone can stay locked in the ivory tower for decades and write about whiteness, race theory, etc etc but it has absolutely no effect on my co-workers, their children, my neighbors, or anyone else that I see on a daily basis. And therein lies the challenge of applying what I spent 3 years in Madison WI doing. How do I apply this knowledge, which I do think is valuable, to the realities lived by everyone around me and increasingly the realities lived by me? In the end, as frustrating as it is dealing with people sometime I realize truly that they are my people and that is above all that matters. We may disagree, argue, fight, but in the end they are my people, people of color and specifically within that arabs. And after all if we dont love ourselves...who will?

A date with The Narcicyst

It is really quite amazing that it took less than one month for me to stop writing in this blog. I suppose I have always had problems sticking to a deadline or attempting to schedule anything for myself and maintain, I have never exercised, never studied, never even worked regularly. So perhaps it should not be such a surprise. Also I was never one to write regularly, I spend a lot of time reflecting on the past its true, but I never really seem to write things down. I could never get in the habit of recording things as they took place or even soon after they took place. All of those experiences and events are usually relegated not to a piece of paper or to the series of tubes known as the internet but rather to various nooks and crannies in my brain to be relived in the time I spend maybe on rainy days, maybe on sleepless nights, or maybe on the "el" when I sit to reflect on the past with my free moments. However this post is not about that, it is about what I have been doing since my last post. Recent spurts of dear friends in and out of my apartment have kept my weekends buzzing along at a steady and durable pace. Weekends have no place for boredom as I occupy myself attempting to host those I care about. Through this I have been able to discover many new places as well, such as Indio's an amazing vegan/vegetarian friendly mexican restaurant, Al-Hambra they waaaaaaaaaaay too over the top Arabic club filled with expensive alcohol, sleezy arab men, and very very very scary looking belly dancers, and through it all became closer to the owners of the local Arabic restaurant. This weekend started with a concert hosted by IMAN (inner city muslim action network) which was fairly decent. The artists were much better than I expected, also to my disbelief there were folks dancing, children mostly but adults as well, getting down as artists graced the stage with music ranging from Hip hop to spoken word to jazz. The night was a commemoration for El Hajj Malik Al-Shabazz aka Malcolm X and the final artist to perform was the one and only Jamal Abdul Narcel aka Narcy the Narcicyst aka Narcel X aka the dopest Arab hip-hop artist this side of the Atlantic hands down. He tore it up as he opened his set with "Vietnam" having the entire audience singing along with him "Two Hundred fifty six Vietcong captured". His set progressed as he performed new songs and a spoken word piece. He then performed his hit single "Phatwa" having the entire audience moving along with him left and right while he sang "C-I A-F B-I Enter and spy.." I had pushed my way to the front with Manal who I had just met literally an hour early, we sat at the foot of the stage her with her fancy Cannon camera and me with my camera-phone snapping away and singing along to every lyric I knew. As he combed the crowd he noticed I was singing along to Phatwa and pointed and smiled...perhaps I am simply star struck but shit we shared a moment. Afterwards I went up to him to say hey and tell him how much I appreciate his music, Manal took our picture and then we switched places as it was her turn. The woman who came from Kufar Kara just two weeks prior, listening to a concert in her third or even fourth language made sure she had pictures with Narcy to prove it. Afterwards we met up with a coworker of mine and her friend at a hookah lounge. White peach out of a maya QT hookah with coconut natural charcoals, never harsh, perfect amount of flavor and smoke, no pull on the hose. Through the bottles of beer and glasses of wine that ensued we did the only thing arabs do...argue politics. Civil argument gave way to shouting and pounding on tables as we struggled through the dark smokey room to see each others faces through our shouts in arabic. Of course the problems of communism vs nationalism would not be settled that night but we argued as if they would. No problem left unaddressed, no situation critiqued, no theory left untouched. And once the red faced cursing and shouting was done we all looked at each other, laughed, hugged and said our goodbyes agreeing to meet again saturday night. Saturday night was full of indian music, and arabic club and getting to know friends better than I ever imagined. After a modest 4 hours of sleep we all went out to the Nile resturaunt for some breakfast followed by drawn out arguing of those who had to leave trying to turn down my pleas that they should stay longer. In the end all had left by 5:00 and I was able to retire to my quiet house. Sometimes it seems quiet is what would be wanted or needed after an eventful weekend where only 10 hours were slept in two days. But the reality is all I want is more partying, more fun, more arguments, more time with friends. Some friends will never be repeated in 1,000 years, no matter how many folks I meet in Chicago no one can replace those who I already have. Well I suppose everyone needs a break after a week like that and perhaps I should take this chance to finish "Footnotes in Gaza" and catch up on some shut eye. Weekends like this are ones that are few and far between but oh so wonderful. Sometimes life really can be good...considering. Work tomorrow morning, perhaps I will post some pictures from the weekend.

-محمد-

Life in Contradictions

It seems that so much around me is full of contradictions lately. Things at the Markaz are well, comparatively I suppose. Work is not hard, its easy to go in everyday and chat it up for 3-4 hours with the womyn I work with before actually doing anything for the day. Everyone there intrigues me. H and I had a long conversation about what it was like the last time we returned back to our respective "homelands". We talked about desolation, destituteness, idleness. No hope, no change, people hustling to survive day to day. Its destroyed our culture, people have become selfish, capitalism is an amazing force. Arabs in the Arab world that exist in a capitalist, or often times psuedo-capitalist economy that was largely built on former or current colonial powers go through some horrific transformation. Our entire lives have been commodified, our interactions our daily tasks all come to serve the all-mighty dollar. I had never really thought about it in depth before H had said the simple phrase "Everyone is so Selfish" and after all she is right. Arab culture is something that makes me think generosity, frugality, and a true understanding in the dualism of the power and powerlessness of money and material. Perhaps its due to a strong influence of religiouness, perhaps due to other factors such as a culture and people evolving in an area of scarcity and abundance these contradictions that have shaped our culture for thousands of years. But this has now changed, everything is commodities, everything is prices, everything rises and falls with the New York or London stock exchange. No one helps their neighbor anymore, no one is generous towards strangers, things have just deteriorated. How can I know this with out having gone back for almost 6 years now? Because this same mentality has followed and manifested itself within the Arab-American community. The Arab-Americans are often like crabs in a bucket, we act as leaches on other poor communities in some areas, we act as each others enemies, the stories of generosity and the fleeting value of money are just that...stories, the reality has now become different. There is some glimmer of hope I suppose tho, there are still little actions. Muhammad at the bakery today took my loose change that totaled probably 36 cents and counted it as 50 in the Cash register so I wouldnt have to break a larger bill. He smiled at me and said not to worry about it. True its only 14 cents but beyond that is something deeper, something latent, thousands of years in the making, 14 cents is small change but there was something much more valuable about that interaction, and that unfortunately is something that is not repeated often. H's aunt passed away this morning as well, she was sick with cancer and it was not like it was unexpected but still. H seemed not hit by it yet, which is of course understandable, she came into work and just mentioned it in passing to R. R had a similar story to share, that a friend of her brother who lives out in TN died yesterday, the circumstances around the death are vague still but the story told so far is that he was cleaning his gun. His parents still live in Palestine, they are burying him in TN. Yesterday as I was coming back from work traffic was backed up real far, as we pulled up at my stop I noticed there was an ambulance parked at the corner and a couple of cop cars. I thought nothing of it as I weaved through the crowded traffic and continued to my quiet apartment. Today I found out a student at the local high school a block from my house was shot. Shot in the back...Apparently an argument broke out between two kids that was "gang related" which then became racially charged and ended in this young boy getting shot. I think he was a Freshmen or perhaps a Junior, either way too young. Latest news is that he is in a suburban hospital getting treated, condition is critical but that hospital, since it is not located on the southside of the city, but rather in a South West suburb, has a good reputation. Sometimes it is easy to forget that is the reality, the reality of the South Side, the reality of the Gang violence that consumed this community just a decade ago. The reality that I am living in colonized space, whether or not that is how people would classify it in an "Academic" sense or a "Classical" sense the fact is that this neighborhood, which is paradise compared to the even worse projects in Chicago, is colonized. Colonized by the elite white power structure that runs the city of chicago, kept desolate and militarized. Humiliation by the enforces of the colonial regime, i.e. the cops, is a daily occurrence for my neighbors and their children. The economy of this area is underdeveloped, the "educational" system is in shambles, and the only money that comes here goes to create a stronger and more "efficient" police force. Or at least that is what is made obvious by the structure, design, and age of the Police stations in the area. The reality of this place is daunting on some nights, as I sit on the L with minimum of 30 minutes to kill before I can get anywhere or back home I often think of this area. I think of my community, and of the community I live in, and of work, and of what I am doing. What am I doing? Am I really making a positive change? What should I be working on so that I am really making a difference? Sometimes life here seems so surreal, I snapped a picture on the L ride back from my two hour CCA meeting today. The image with my eyes was much clearer, the Willis tower at night through the window of the L with my eyes trying to focus on both the reflection in the window and the image outside. The picture seems a bit surreal, just like my life does at this moment. I dont know what its all supposed to mean or how its supposed to pan out, but I do know a young man was shot yesterday and that is as real as it gets.

-محمد-