Bahrain on the doorstep of a cultural renaissance...

Over the past few weeks, a lot has been said about the Spring of Culture, most of which was deservedly positive. So it should, because we finally can say that we truly have something remarkable and intellectually stimulating.

Here, we get a rare chance to come face to face with the best the world of culture, art and literature has to offer. Poets, singers, writers, dancers and artistes present it with a flavourful, delectable dose of the finest arts.

It is a much improved programme over the previous year and one that is assertively taking the festival to the next level, with a balanced mix of international and local acts.
The festival has created a wonderful and colourful atmosphere, unlike any we've witnessed before in Bahrain.

The organisers have certainly got it right this time, from the varied and exciting line-up of events, to the organisation, marketing and presentation of the programme.
They certainly deserve a round of applause for their efforts. The Arab and Muslim world's art scene needs a shot in the arm and the Spring of Culture could be the protagonist in reinvigorating a vital element in our communities. Art has no language and culture is not an enemy!

Those who for some reason fear the arts and look at culture as another source of 'devilry' are stone-headed individuals who apparently have no understanding of the word, nor of its role in shaping a collective sense of progressive thinking. Then again, that is exactly what those 'voices' - who claim to be representatives of the people - fear.

Last week, terrorists targeted one of Iraq's liveliest and most renowned cultural areas, Abu Mutanabbi Street, Baghdad, in an obvious attempt at destroying the cultural backbone of the country, which has always been known for its proud cultural and artistic heritage. The street, named after the renowned classical Arabic poet, is lined with bookshops and open-air book stalls.

We've had enough of being pinned down, of being told that all we do and think is wrong, of being looked at as 'cultural terrorists', just because we voice our opinions, because we do things differently and because we enjoy art. How dare we?

I hope - and I'm positive it will - that the Spring of Culture grows bigger every year and that more and more people realise its potential and importance. To have celebrated performers from around the world performing for our pleasure is a privilege and we must take full advantage of it while we can. My only complaint, me being a writer and all, is that there aren't enough readings or talks by internationally renowned authors. I would've loved to see a couple of big-name authors sharing their literature with us... perhaps that's something for the organisers to consider for next year's version.

The cultural scene in Bahrain has been witnessing a much-needed refreshing surge in recent times. This cannot be a bad thing for the country, if anything it should open up a debate on cultural-fusions and the role of contemporary art in modern Islamic/Arab community.

Appeared in GDN Vol XXIX, NO. 356, Sunday, 11 March 2006

A tragedy that has fostered brotherhood...

My earliest childhood memories of Ashoora was being hoisted on someone's shoulders to catch a glimpse of the 'haydar', the final and most gruelling procession on the morning of the 10th day of Muharram.

The shocking image of bald, bleeding heads with the deep sound of drums, punching my quivering heart, is something that is engraved in my mind and soul.

Every year, my father would take us - me and my brothers - to the ma'atam to attend the proceedings and listen to the Imams retell the tragic and sad story of the Imam Hussain and his family in the battle of Karbala and how they were slaughtered for what they believed in and stood up for, in a sombre and haunting assembly.

As a child, seeing adults, big men - our fathers, uncles, grandfathers - with their heads bowed low, weeping, some silently, some violently, is a heart-wrenching and unforgettable moment that reflects the deep sorrow, the grief, of something that occurred hundreds of years ago, yet is still mourned to this day.

For the 10 days of Ashoora, Manama is overtaken with a sense of grief and celebration, draped in black banners, flags and shawls. Food and drink is handed out on the streets and alleyways to strangers and passers-by, as a gesture of kindness and togetherness, to share, to be as one.
I remember, for a number of years, how my elder brother and I would stay behind to help in the ma'atam's kitchen, where food is prepared for the next day to be dispersed to the public; those long nights of chopping onions and peeling potatoes - even though tiring - were immensely rewarding.

We enjoyed the company of the other men and young boys who served at the ma'atam, each had a mission, a duty and a responsibility and each was committed, dedicated and seemed truthfully honoured to be involved, to be taking part, in this special occasion.

In spite of the puffy eyes, the tiredness and the smell of onions on us, my brother and I couldn't help but have a big wide smile on our faces, as dawn broke.

As I grew up, I began to understand more the essence of the story of Karbala and the Imam Hussain and come to terms with its sadness, realising the significance of being involved in celebrating it. Ashoora has become part of the true Bahraini tradition and heritage. To have that freedom is a privilege we must appreciate, knowing that it wasn't easy at times.

The occasion that once was limited to Shi'a only, has now been turned into a festival of unity, bringing Bahrainis - of all racial, ethnic and sectarian backgrounds - together from all corners of the island, to mark those everlasting days side by side.

This is unquestionably the biggest annual gathering in the country, in which tens of thousands of people flood into Manama to celebrate an occasion that was born out of tragedy, persecution and injustice, but one that today stands for great values, promoting tolerance, acceptance and harmony.


*Appeared in GDN Vol XXIX, NO. 314, Sunday, 28th January 2007

Short-changed with words of courtesy...

"Are you together?" she asks. We look at each other and we're not quite sure what she means.
Were we 'together', I mean, yes, technically we were together, but we weren't together, if you see what I mean.

We both look at her again.

"No," "Yes." This was starting to get awkward and rather uncomfortable.

There was a moment of silence, before my friend decided to reinforce our stance again.
My friend and I decided to order another round of coffee and for some reason this was turning out to be more confusing and complicated than we were expecting it to be.

You would think that buying a cup of coffee was easy in this country. I certainly thought so. Well, think again.

"Can we just get our change back please?"

But the lady behind the counter still looked at us with puzzlement, her mouth slightly ajar.
I thought to myself, maybe the concept of returning change was foreign to this young lady here.
But normally, when you pay for something, you expect your change back - if there was any - and in our case, there was.

Besides, what kind of question was that? "Are you together?!?" Hello?! It's none of your darned business. It's not like we're socialising here, unless its company policy for the staff to try and get to intimately know their customers. I don't know about you, but I find that somewhat rude.

"We don't have change," she finally told us, but it sounded to me more like a question, which was odd.

I had to laugh. Here we were, at one of the biggest coffee house franchise in the world and they don't have any change for a couple of cups of coffee. Do you realise how absurd that sounds? It always baffled me whenever I am at a big store (and I'm not talking about your local grocery store here, I'm talking major worldwide franchises and such) and I'm dealt the "do you have change?" routine.

Some shopkeepers look at BD20 notes as if they were contaminated with radiation.
Eventually the counter-lady caves in and, from her secret stash tucked away in her 'cash-register', she hands our change back - but not without a a disdainful look.

I'm exasperated by the behavioural patterns of certain individuals in certain positions. And the way many staff treat their customers as if they were coming from Pluto, some are always willing to take you for a ride at any chance.

I'm sure you've been through these before yourself. Waiters never returning your change and deciding for themselves, on your behalf, to take the last 400 or 500 fils as a tip. I don't care if my change is only 10 fils, you just don't take people's money like that! It's about principals, rights and more importantly, at least to me, it's about being courteous to others.

It appears courtesy is a concept hard for many to grasp; we don't seem to have any of it around.
Seriously people, would it kill us to smile at a stranger every once in a while? Would it kill us to hold the door for the person behind us? Would it kill us to look at each other as equals?

Maybe we need a School of Courtesy in this country, maybe then we'll truly "progress".


*Appeared in GDN Vol XXIX , NO. 300, Sunday, 14th January 2007

Artists' brush with words heralds a new trend...

The 2006/2007 art and cultural season has finally kicked off once again with two art exhibitions by two very original and fascinating artists. The month of November promises to offer a great deal. On November 5, renowned Iraqi artist Rafa Nasiri opened his solo exhibition, 'Patina', at Al Riwaq Art Gallery, followed on November 6 by the opening of Love Begins, an art exhibition for Iranian contemporary artist Farhad Moshiri, who is displaying his artwork in Bahrain for the first time, at Al Bareh Art Gallery.

Born in Baghdad in 1940, Nasiri became one of the leading and influential forces behind the rise of the Iraqi conceptual art movement, which took place throughout the later part of the 20th century. After spending periods in Europe in the 60s, followed by stints in Iraq and Bahrain teaching art, he now resides in Jordan.

In Patina, he presents us with a collection that reflects his fascination and love for abstraction, using it as a medium to channel the way he views humanity, nature and life, toying with colours, vague shapes and lines to take us through his intricate mind. He does not tell us what to see, merely hints to us at the possibilities of what could be seen, often using letters and words within the milieu of the painting itself, which adds an almost mystical dimension, almost like a film from a dream, vague, fading and reminiscent.

Words and letters are also an evident feature in Moshiri's work. In the collection of 22 paintings he offers us in his first art exhibition in Bahrain, we are faced with what can only be described as larger-than-life manifestations of contemporary heritage, if there is such a thing, and if there isn't, then that's exactly what Moshiri has created with these pieces.

Moshiri's infatuation with jars and pottery led him to experiment with paint and fragmentation, creating an original and textured feel to his paintings, almost a three-dimensional and authentic element to them. The size of each piece makes it all the more easy to enjoy whether from a distance or up close and the vibrant, bright and rich colors, along with the powerful and evocative phrases, verses and lyrics that Moshiri interjects into his art, contribute in producing some stunning eye-candy.

Moshiri's relaxed and almost care-free attitude towards his own art, combined with his passion and flare, can only be admired. Meeting him in person, one would realise that this is not a man who is on a mission to single-handedly change the world, but to simply help us in seeing the beauty in the simplest, yet most intricate, possible ways.

Both exhibitions were a promising start to the new art season and have helped reinforce the integration of art with verse, just as the upcoming art exhibition for Dutch artist Theodora Plas, whose exhibition Letters of Love opens at La Fontaine Centre for Contemporary Art on November 22, will confirm that artists are finding new ways to express their deep thoughts and feelings by employing letters, words and verses.

Artists, and writers, don't feel that they should be constrained by single mediums, as often used to be the case. With the many different available means nowadays, artists find more room for creativity and experimentation. And it's not only artists, we find poets, novelists, writers and photographers all expanding their horizon of imagination and creativity on different mediums and platforms.

One of many fine examples is award-winning illustrator James Jean and Japanese artist Kenichi Hoshine, creators of the wonderfully-imagined and artistically-conceived A Polite Winter (found at www.politewinter.com, in which a hauntingly bittersweet tale is unravelled through painting and illustrations garlanded with verses.

We are witnessing the birth of a new breed of artists and writers who challenge the norm and break the conventional and traditional constraints.


*First appeared in GDN Vol XXIX, NO. 237, Sunday, 12 November 2006

An oasis of reading that promises fun and growth

A fortnight ago I attended the opening of the new and fabulous Iqra Library in Muharraq, opposite the Shaikh Ebrahim bin Mohammed Al Khalifa Centre for Culture and Research, a true celebration of children's literature and reading.

The library, in addition to being a stunningly beautiful building architecturally, will serve as a reading house for children between the ages of six and 12 - a more than welcome move and one that will surely have an impact on encouraging the young ones to pick a book up and read.
It is one of a number of initiatives adopted by culture and national heritage assistant under-secretary Shaikha Mai bint Mohammed Al Khalifa, who is perhaps one of the strongest advocates of art, culture and literature in the country and a woman who obviously has the foresight to realise the importance of these elements in the progression of the local community and notably Bahrain's younger generation.

The interior design is simple, contemporary yet grounded in tradition. There are the actual library, computer hallway and gallery hall. It makes perfect use of a small space with calm and soothing decor. The library space has shelves full of children's books, in Arabic and English, from science-fiction and art to fairytales and learning books.

It would be interesting to see the sort of titles the library features, to have children's books by local and regional authors alongside the great classics of the eccentrically wondrous world of Roald Dahl. Iqra should be a perfect place to get local authors involved by bringing them in for readings and storytelling sessions on a regular basis, which would also give the children a chance to meet the authors and spend time with them.

And I am sure there are a number of Bahraini writers who would and should be involved in such a programme. (I shall be one of the first to volunteer to be part of it!). The Arabic word Iqra means 'read'. It was the very first word from the Quran that was delivered to the Prophet Mohammed, signifying the importance of reading and how celebrated it is in Islam. And it seems only fitting to have chosen this word to name the library, showing not only the importance of this act but also its relation to the local culture.

Our culture has always been rich with literature, but perhaps over the past few decades reading, for some reason or the other, has taken a back seat. Lack of reading activities for pleasure, as apposed to studying, could be to blame. Many of us, growing up, came to look at it as something solely associated with school work, and thus unattractive.

But with such projects as the Iqra Children's Library, this could all change. It has the potential to contribute enormously in reshaping young people's attitude towards reading from a very early stage and introduce them to the fabulous world of literature in a fun environment. Shaikha Mai has already provided Bahrain's young ones with a reading oasis that they all can enjoy and benefit from.

It will certainly be interesting to see how this library progresses and what sort of response it will get from the public, as well as the various programmes it will introduce over the coming months and years. Meanwhile, though, I suggest you go down to the old capital and visit it - just don't forget to take the kids with you!

*Appeared in GDN Vol XXIX, NO. 223, Sunday, 29th October 2006

Laughing our way to reforms with TV hits

Things don't change overnight. We all know that. We all accept it. But when it comes to changes to our cultural attitude towards social commentary and political criticism we, as nations and as communities, tend to be even more guarded.

With all this talk about adopting diplomacy and freedom of expression in our region and advocating it, we are yet to see tangible proof of it. Our conservative communities usually apply self-censorship when it comes to certain elements and generally we find it hard to criticise ourselves, or at least admit to certain problems and issues facing us. Perhaps we are trapped in denial and getting out of that mould won't be easy.

Media and entertainment play a crucial part in forming public opinion and, more importantly, reflecting that opinion. Highlighting serious issues in a light manner and presenting them to the public in an easy-to-swallow dish can contribute immensely to broadening minds and opening our eyes to social, political and cultural issues.

This Ramadan, such steps can be traced in our regional television channels. Arabic networks are slowly becoming more daring in taking chances with comedy programmes and even though the majority are still below par, one or two shows are proving worth the audience's while.
The Saudi show Tash Ma Tash, aired on MBC1 and led by celebrity Saudi actors Nasi Al Ghasabi and Abdulallah Al Sadhan, brings a new situation or current hot issue under the microscope every day, with uncompromising critical satire.

Over the past years, the show has gained a loyal following not only in Saudi but all across the region. In this year's edition, they expanded their reach and tackled wider issues that touch all Arabs, through analogies and symbolism. The show's theme song could easily become a No 1 hit if it ever were released as a single!

Directly associated with Ramadan, Tash Ma Tash, could perhaps be described as ground-breaking. It certainly was when the very first season of it aired in 1993. Tash Ma Tash alone has exposed the deep problems Saudi society is suffering from and through the 30 episodes is shedding light on vital issues such as women's rights, economic reform and democracy. It was the first show to poke fun at hot topics like terrorism and religion.

A Lebanese show had a similar impact. The team behind the hugely popular comedy show La Yumal have created a new show for Ramadan called Kul Yaum Shee, aired on the Lebanon-based Future TV, in which we follow the adventures and misfortunes of certain, familiar characters by the four-member team.

Their approach towards political issues is at times very direct and hard-hitting, but it mostly reflects what the general public is thinking, or how they see things. With the help of a little slapstick comedy here and there, they can get away with a lot of things that normally we wouldn't see on Arabic television, especially when most channels are government-run or owned.
Both these shows and their creators, have gained a cult following over the years and have introduced to the Arabic audiences a new wave of comedy shows that is often daring, funny and responsible.

Let's just hope that there are more such shows on Arabic television, and not just during one month of the year. We're still far from having our own Daily Show with Jon Stewart and more likely than not it will take us some time to get there - but maybe, just maybe, hit or miss, we're on the right track here.

*Appeard in GDN Vol XXIX, NO. 209, Sunday, 15th October 2006

Banished for being different

Last week I had a blast from the past. A school friend finally resurfaced after an eight-year disappearance. I had lost contact, as people often do, with most of my school friends not long after graduation. I was pleased to see him. He was one of the very few that I had a good relationship with and felt comfortable to be around.

I wasn't known for my excellent social skills back then being more of the reclusive type.
But with him I shared a number of things, we both wore Bon Jovi T-shirts and listened to Gun 'n' Roses records (I was once warned I would be sent back home if I wore that Slash T-shirt again at school!) and we both were football fanatics, spending hours under the scorching sun kicking a ball around and talking about the coolest new rock music.

To everyone else around us, we seemed like misfits and when I heard my friend's stories, of his struggles, to be accepted for what he is, not only by his other friends and family, but everyone else around him, it confirmed one idea - that the Bahraini community is culturally phobic.
In a lot of ways it is a community obsessed with pretences and image control. Our seniors, the previous generation, tend to be over-protective of their own ideals and perceptions of what life is and how it should be lived.

They insist, at times, that their way is the right way, the only way, without taking a moment to think of the consequences of such an attitude. Surely, when they were young, they did things that their parents couldn't relate to, or disapproved of.

My father told me the story of a young man, from his earlier years, who had a bit of a bad boy reputation. What did he do? He rode motorbikes! Back then, that on its own was cause to label you as a rebel, a renegade. When in truth, it could've been that that young man's only fault was that he had a free spirit, an independent mind.

I understood what my friend went through, because I went through it too and sometimes it feels as if everyone around you condemns you, besieges you, undermines you, for no other reason than having your own thoughts, for being different, as if that in its own right is a crime that calls for banishment.

I was lucky in that my family finally came around before it was too late. They realised and more importantly, understood me, as a person and an individual and stood by me and supported me through it all. At the end of the day, that is what we are, we are individuals, with our own individual dreams. If someone dares to dream, dares to challenge the common understanding of life, that doesn't mean that they are mad. It just means that they are different, which, in most if not all cases, isn't necessarily a bad thing.

What I don't understand is why certain people take it upon themselves to put people's dreams down just because they think they are trivial, or go to extreme lengths to deter their attempts, mocking and belittling them. Perhaps they do that out of jealousy. I will never forget the time I was walking in Seef Mall with a couple of 'friends' less than three years ago and how they sarcastically giggled at the thought of having a book displayed on the bookstore shop-window.
What Bahrain's senior and current generations must realise is that the new generation simply needs breathing space, needs independence and more importantly the freedom to express what and who they are, be it through art, sports, music or fashion.

We should stop looking at creativity and talent as an oddity or novelty that will eventually wear out and fade, as if it were a hormonal phase a teenager goes through.

Instead of creating a cultural conflict, there must be some sort of compromise from both ends. The way to do that is left in all of our hands.

*Appeared in GDN Vol XXIX, NO. 202, Sunday, 8th October 2006