Sad news with a silver lining

I don't know if it was news in the U.S., but several days ago an Egyptian, possibly tied to Al Qaeda but probably not, blew up a car bomb in Doha, Qatar. One man died and twelve were injured. This was important to me for a couple of reasons.

First, I was in Doha about three weeks ago. The suicide bomber attacked a theatre where Shakespeare's Twelfth Night was showing to a packed house.

Second, the man who was killed, Jonathan Adams of Britain, was the director of the play and an expat living in Doha. He was a teacher at an English school in Doha, and only a few years ago he taught at a similar school in Dubai. In fact, one of my current students actually knew him, took a drama class from him.

I'm a teacher; I've directed plays. I feel like I understand this guy. He was watching the play he directed, sitting next to his wife, and when he heard a noise backstage, he went to check it out. Then a suicide bomber blew him up.

This is a very ugly story, but there is a silver lining. The next day, Qataris turned out in large numbers -- thousands, maybe -- near the site of the bombing to protest terrorism. According to the British Globe and Mail newspaper, banners at the demonstration read "Western expatriates we love you. Your security is our concern."

"'We love all Westerners and we don't want this to happen again in our country,' said Khalifa al-Tamimi, an employee of state-owned Qatar Petroleum. 'Whoever did this is illiterate and uncivilized. Surely this is not the work of Qatari people.'"

This rally was organized by the government, for the purpose of reassuring western wallets that they will continue to be safe in the Gulf region. Dubai's rulers would have done the same. But the sentiment among the people was genuine, I'm sure of it. Dubai reminds me of New York in the way that people have generally come to accept -- even value -- the almost radical diversity of the place. Westerners, even Americans, feel welcome here, at least so it seems to me. This is the sort of mindset that will need to become dominant in the Middle East if we're going to win the "War on Terror." But maybe it will, in the long run... I was really encouraged to read about the big rally in Doha.

Dubai will buy and sell you

But first, they've bought London's famous wax museum, mentioned on this site a month ago as the home of the unfortunate "Brad and Jen" sculpture that had to be brutally chopped apart.

Well, now Dubai owns Brad and Jen and everybody else, and I think it's quite clear why. Imagine Dubai's leaders: a bunch of old men, filthy rich and terribly repressed sexually. Now read this sentence: "[The wax museum] hit the headlines in 2003 after unveiling a new model of Britney Spears, equipped with heaving breasts that beat in time to music."

That sentence -- and much more! -- available on the Internet. This information arrived via an anonymous tip to elktown. Thank you Deep Throat.

News roundup

Headlines from the Middle East and around the world

And here are today's top stories. First, of particular interest to Kansans:

• UAE to negotiate free trade deal with Oz.*
  
  
• Bible Bashers arrested in Dubai for passing out Bibles. Actually, I think this is a mix-up. These people -- jailed here for 12 days -- were passing out the Bible because they love the Bible, not because they want to Bash it. I think the correct terminology here is "Bible Thumpers."
  
  
• Name of Dubai's ruling sheikh misspelled on a prominent sign inside Dubai's World Trade Center. No word yet on how dead is the guy who screwed that up.
  
  
• Camel milk chocolate on the way to market. I've had camel milk, people. If you own stock in camel milk chocolate: sell.

And finally, from the homeland:

• Satan possesses turtle, burns down pet shop. So things are exciting as always in Indiana. Ironically, the demonic turtle's name was Lucky. Lucky was unscathed by the fire, perhaps because he is evil incarnate and is thus impervious to flame. This theory is bolstered by the article's chilling conclusion: "Turtles can hold their breath quite awhile," Dora said. "He may have taken one breath just before and held it through the fire. Except that the fire went on and on for hours."
  
  Thank you Tim for forwarding this. For you skeptics, here is the irrefutable evidence:
  

* This is real. Check it out for yourself.

More adventures with the Chechen

M usually takes the initiative in our class from the moment I walk in the door. Most days he's burning to grill me on some point of language -- God, I love this kid -- and such days always begin with, "Eric, may I say you question?"

My favorite was this one: "Eric, what does it mean, 'Fire in... the hole'?"

My first thought, for the fleetest of seconds, was that 15-year-old M was somehow a veteran of some monstrous streetfight in Grozny before he escaped, hurling Molotov cocktails at Russian tanks before diving into a sewer pipe, or something.

The truth, of course, is that M loves video games -- lives for them, really. His desire to explain to me the fine points of WarHammer 40,000 and Half-Life 2: Counter-strike form the basis of our study of English, in fact, and I'm not sure how I would fill ten hours a week without such halting (but fascinating) conversation.

(Once we were reading a book and a character appeared named Roger. "Eric, may I say you question? What does it mean, 'Roger that?' What does it mean, 'affirmative?'" The old cliche is that a generation of kids learned English watching John Wayne movies. I think we may have stumbled on the new cliche.)

So, evidently the digital soldiers of Half-Life 2: Counter-strike yell "Fire in the hole!" before launching their proton grenades and laser boomerangs and so forth. Now, let's be honest: I'm a nerd about both video games and the history of language. So I spent ten minutes explaining (with illustrations, of course) the origin of "Fire in the hole" -- my understanding is that it was a term miners used to warn each other, before evolving into a generalized warning of impending explosion. M seemed to agree that his video game pals usually used the phrase just prior to something blowing up. Learning the shop talk seemed really to thrill him.

The funny part was his original interpretation of "Fire in the hole." In the Chechen language, the words "fire in the hole" apparently sound like "garlic on your belt." When the little soldiers shouted that at each other, M thought the garlic might be some strange American weapon, like it was in the "Blade" vampire movies.*

* And don't tell me it's farfetched. You know Batman had shit like that on his belt.

Gary Porter and the Chechen Boy

My favorite student is a Russian-speaking Chechen boy whom I tutor for two hours every day in English. I absolutely love this kid. These two hours are the highlight of my day, every day.

The British textbook we use is lame, so we have to improvise. We're supposed to say things to each other like:

"How much is a hamburger and chips?"
"It's 3 pounds 50p. Would you like some tea?"
"Cheers."

Well, I'll be damned if I'm going to let him talk like that. So instead we make up characters to sit at all the empty desks and ask each other questions about these imaginary friends. Personal details are heavily influenced by the student's (call him "M") favorite hobby.

Eric: Who's that over there? (points at empty chair)
M: Bob.
Eric: What's Bob's last name?
M: Half-Life 2: Counter Strike.

So today, in addition to Bob Half-Life 2: Counter Strike, we were joined by Jim ("Jeem"), an out-of-work Spanish teacher living in L.A., and Tim ("Teem") a plastic surgeon from Las Vegas who plays with his sons in his spare time.

In the fourth chair sat "Gary."

Eric: What's Gary's last name?
M: Him last name "Porter."
Eric: "His"
M: His name Gary Porter.
Eric: "is"
M: Him name is Gary Porter.

And so on.

Eric: What's Gary's job?
M: Magic man.
Eric: Interesting.
M: Yes.
Eric: What languages does he speak?
M: He speak English only. But -- (mimes tapping wand against head) -- plink, now Franch. Now Germany.
Eric: Nice.

Eric: Where does Gary live?
M: He live London, but school in magic world house, something.
Eric:
M: Him train, palace.
Eric: Hmmmm.


Eric: Does Gary have family? (These are the standard questions.)
M: He have parents, but them dead. Them killed with... Bad... Magic Boy.

M is grinning. Something is itching at my brain here.

M: Eric, you know Gary! You heerd him.
Eric: I don't think so.
M: Magical man! (mimes making pen disappear, pulling coin out of ear)

Damn, is this a famous magician I haven't heard of? Let's see... there's Doug Henning... and that guy who lived in a cage above London... ah yes, must be that guy.

M: Eric, Gary Porter!

When the answer hit me, I was standing at the board. I laughed so hard I had to sit down. If it hasn't hit you yet, consider the fact that Russian speakers tend to get their "g's" and their "h's" mixed up...