Islamic Banking versus the rest....a great article that truly defines much of what is not understood about the difference between "trade" and "usery":

http://www.shaykhabdalqadir.com/content/articles/Art037_12032005.html

"'Yahya related to me from Malik that he had heard that receipts (sukukun) were given to people in the time of Marwan ibn al-Hakam for the produce of the market of al-Jar. People bought and sold the receipts among themselves before they took delivery of the goods. Zayd ibn Thabit, one of the Companions of the Messenger of Allah, may Allah bless him and grant him peace, went to Marwan ibn Hakam and said, “Marwan! Do you make usury halal?” He said, “I seek refuge with Allah! What is that?” He said, “These receipts which people buy and sell before they take delivery of the goods.” Marwan therefore sent guards to follow them and take them from people's hands and return them to their owners.'"

Is that not the definition of "Junk Bonds". Heh. And some think that the banking game is a new one. Look again.

Disney Trailer: Ice President



Senator Biden's stunning list of heads of state he has met with was just brought to my attention today, and this is only a partial list (courtesy of Office of Senator Joe Biden):

Iraq: Allawi, al-Jaafari, al-Maliki, Talabani, Massoud Barzani, Nechirvan Barzani;

Israel: Golda Meir, Yitzhak Rabin, Shimon Peres, Menachem Begin, Yitzhak Shamir, Benjamin Netanyahu, Ehud Barak, Ariel Sharon, Ehud Olmert, Tzipi Livni;

Palestinian Territories: Yasser Arafat, Mahmoud Abbas, Salam Fayyad, Ahmed Qurei;

Jordan: King Hussein, King Abdullah;

Egypt: Hosni Mubarak, Anwar Sadat;

Libya: Muammar Qaddafi;

Lebanon: Prime Minister Rafiq Haririm, Najib Mikati;

Bahrain: Crown Prince Shaikh Salman bin Hamad bin Isa Al Khalifa;

Syria: President Bashar al-Assad;

Turkey: Recep Tayyip Erdogan, Ahmet Sezer, Abdullah Gul, Bulent Ecevit, Demirel;

Greece: Kostis Stephanopoulos, Kostas Karamanlis, Kostantinos Mitsotakis, Andreas Papandreou;

Cyprus: George Vassiliou, Glafcos Clerides;

Afghanistan: Hamid Karzai;

Pakistan: Asaf Ali Zardari, Syed Yousaf Raza Gillani, Pervez Musharraf, Benazir Bhutto, Nawaz Sharif;

India: Manmohan Singh, Atal Bihari Vajpayee;

Sri Lanka: Ranil Wickremasinghe;

Russia: Vladimir Putin, Boris Yeltsin, Mikhail Gorbachev, Andrei Gromyko, Alexey Kosygin, Leonid Brezhnev;

France: Jacques Chirac, Dominique de Villepin, Fracois Mitterrand;

U.K.: Queen Elizabeth II, Tony Blair, John Major, Margaret Thatcher;

Ireland: Bertie Ahern, John Bruton, Albert Reynolds, Charles Haughey;

Germany: Angela Merkel, Gerhard Schroeder, Helmut Kohl, Helmut Schmidt;

Italy: Silvio Berlusconi, Romani Prodi, Cossiga Serbia Boris Tadic, Vojislav Kostunica, Zoran Djindjic, Slobodan Milosevic;

Yugoslavia: Josip Broz Tito;

Croatia: Franjo Tudjman Slovenia Janez Drnovsek, Ibrahim Rugova, Milan Kucan;

Bosnia and Herzegovina: Haris Silajdzic, Sulejman Tihiae, Alija Izetbegovic;

Kosovo (as an independent nation): Fatmir Sejdiu, Hashim Thaci;

Poland: Lech Walesa, Wlodzimierz Cimoszewicz;

Czech Republic: Vaclav Havel;

Hungary: Gyula Horn, Arpad Goncz, Viktor Orban;

Finland: Paavo Lipponen;

Romania: Ion Iliescu;

Georgia: Mikheil Saakashvili, Eduard Shevardnadze;

Kazakhstan: Nursultan Nazarbayev;

Ukraine: Viktor Yushchenko;

Canada: Paul Martin, Brian Mulroney;

NATO: George Robertson, Javier Solana, Manfred Woerner, Peter Carrington;

China: Jiang Zemin, Zhu Rongji;

Hong Kong: Tung Chee Hwa;

Taiwan: Chen Shui-Bian;

Korea: Kim Dae Jung;

Singapore: Lee Kuan Yew, Goh Chok Tong, Lee Hsien Loong;

Indonesia: Megawati Sukarnoputri, Bambang Yudhoyono;

Australia: John Howard, Paul Keating;

Philippines: Gloria Arroyo, Fidel Ramos;

Vietnam: Phan Van Kai;

East Timor: Ramos Horta;

Tibet: The Dalai Lama Tenzin Gyatso;

Colombia: Alvaro Uribe, Andres Pastrana, Cesar Gaviria;

Mexico: Vincente Fox, Ernesto Zedillo;

Bolivia: Jaime Paz Zamora;

South Africa: Thabo Mbeki, Nelson Mandela;

Liberia: Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf;

Lesotho: Leabua Jonathan;

United Nations: Ban Ki-moon, Kofi Annan, Boutros Boutros Ghali;

Vatican City: Pope John Paul II;

Slovakia: Rudolf Schuster; and

Turkmenistan: Saparmurat Niyazov.

http://www.counterpunch.org/cook09262008.html

Israel and the House of David.....yea...right. Gimme a break.

http://www.bestcyrano.org/THOMASPAINE/?p=982

“Waves of anger and fear
Circulate over the bright
And darkened lands of the earth.
The unmentionable odour of death
Offends the September night.”
–W.H. Auden, “September, 1939”


"Merrill Lynch helped finance the cotton trade before the Civil War! Say it was an essential “linch-pin” in the rise of the South on the backs of black slaves. Say that “free-market,” deregulated capitalism is now getting its due; if I am in steerage on the Titanic and I hear that the swells who have been dancing above our heads are about to take a dip in the sea, Schadenfreude doesn’t calm my queasy stomach." Gary Corseri



Schadenfreude in the City

Where did this problem start,
this stuff about wondering where
a siren goes in the dark
or during the rain, the curtains
pulled aside and you want to see
mainstreet, hope to see a fire
or the headlight of someone's car
dangling like an eye out
of its socket, all hay-wires.
Here, it is night and a plane
ascends, banks then disappears.
A siren peals through the silent
predawn cold and continues on.
Then another. It is always
the second one that gets you going. - Margaret Ruth Porter, Beirut 2005

http://english.hizbollah.tv/essaydetails.php?eid=4943&cid=214

Hizbullah Secretary General Sayyed Hassan Nasrallah vowed decisive victory against "Israel" if it launches any attack against Lebanon. Addressing the Imam Mahdi (pbuh) scouts in Beirut's southern suburb, Sayyed Nasrallah said that the Islamic Resistance leadership sees that "this sum of threats and noise against Lebanon is attributed to internal reasons inside "Israel"." "We do not underestimate or undervalue these threats, but we deal with them with confidence and resolution."

His eminence also pledged that any new war "Israel" will impose on Lebanon "will be swift and victory shall be fast, crystal clear and unequivocally decisive. The army of our enemy will witness an unprecedented method of fighting by courageous, tough and devoted resistance fighters in the battlefield; something they had never seen since the establishment of their usurping entity."

The resilience of Lebanese banks (the "other" Switzerland) is due to prudent lending policies.

http://www.dailystar.com.lb/article.asp?edition_id=1&categ_id=3&article_id=96068

http://www.islamawareness.net/

That was a great campout Radiann. Thank you very much.

Next time, Ben Lilly for a week. At least.

Obama, here we come!

Oh...it makes sense. Off shore drilling, Alaskan pipelines and a cheerleader to go along with it. The Republicans....who have always generated their votes from the unintelligent readers....have done very well. And to boot, she was a Ron Paul supporter. And, she can shoot an AK 47.

Can't beat that! I wonder if she can bake an apple pie? Read the Hungry Caterpillar? Change the oil? Juggle eggs? The Boston Marathon? Speak Japanese? The Iditerod?

Allahu akbar. This plot thickens. "Like Right On!"

Two hurricanes heading in, snow in September in the Rockies.

Life is an illusion...and what an illusion it is.

Uh oh.

When Rivers Change Their Minds

India's Prime Minister Manmohan Singh has described the flooding as a national calamity.

When the swollen Kosi river burst its banks in Nepal just north of the Indian border, it changed course, flowing through a fresh channel 75 miles to the east that has no protective embankments.

The river traditionally swells to a flood peak in October.

In 2007, monsoon floods killed more than 2,200 people across South Asia and left 31 million others homeless, short of food or with other problems. The United Nations called last year's floods the worst in living memory.

Miss Lonelyhearts



Each trip to the small balcony
on the seventh floor
of the Hilton Garden Inn
is a recognaissance mission.
All night long babies
are being birthed,
all night long ads
are being answered
by the anonymous.
There's a flurry of baptisms
going on in the suburbs,
a flurry of orgies right next door.

Aren't Nancy Grace's twins adorable!


All night long I return
to tell a story
to myself that only
I seem to know.
And so do they.
No doubt about it,
the city is full tonight
of scoundrels and light.
Full of itself, pounding
itself to pieces, generators
grind warm air and noise
into a diamond chaos.
This is Laos or Prague.
This is Central and Indianola.

August 2008

"And the flood couldn't take it down neither,
it just kept melting." -Ode to Seven

Israel is nobody's friend except Israel.

Israeli operatives evacuated from Georgia after Russian "pre-emptive" strike. And that is exactly what it was...the same type that Israel boasted of in years past.

http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/spages/1010230.html


"There was an atmosphere of war about to break out. We received basic background about tensions between Georgia and Russia, but most of what I learned came from talking to the soldiers. From my point of view, the battles of the past few days were to be expected."

The Israelis, who were stationed at bases throughout the country, were to carry out battalion-level infantry and reconnaissance training. "Israel Ziv and Gal Hirsch would come from time to time and watch us in action, but we managed day-to-day operations ourselves," L. said.

L., who trained a Georgian reconnaissance unit, says the troops were high quality. "It's not the standard we know in Israel, but when we left them they were at a good level. They took the training very seriously. There is a wider age range than in Israel, from 18 to 35, but they function very well. Over the past few days I've been following the news and I think they grasped a little of how to use strategy, like we taught them. It looks like we did a good job." L. refuses to discuss the weapons they trained the Georgians with, but he says the program was approved by Israel's Defense Ministry and included no classified information. "We taught them counterterror and house-to-house fighting, but that was very basic."

The trainers left Georgia in April. "I don't think the Georgians would start fighting as long as the Israeli forces where there," L. said. "Once, when tension was high after Russia shot down a drone, we were evacuated to Tbilisi."

Nothing Is Safe






Let Israel Die in its Rage. For what it has done to the nations of the world. For what it has done to Georgia.

Israel-Georgia defeated by Vladmir Putin

Sayyed Nasrallah asserted that "the results of the war are evident even today, in both the military and political fields in Israel." He said Israel is facing the worst leadership crisis in its history.

"The entire front line of the army's brass stepped down because of the war. Gal Hirsch, who was defeated in Lebanon, went to Georgia and they too lost because of him," his eminence said.

For the past seven years, Israeli companies have been helping the Georgian army to preparer for war against Russia through arms deals, training of infantry units and security advice

Hirsch, a brigadier-general in the reserves, served as commander of the Israeli Army’s Galilee Division during the war and resigned in its wake. In recent years he consulted the Georgian army on the establishment of elite units and rearmament, and gave various courses in the fields of combat intelligence and fighting in built-up areas.

"Relying on Israeli experts and weapons, Georgia learned why the Israeli generals failed. What happened in Georgia is a message to all those who accept that Washington entangles them in adventures, miscalculated wars and dead-end confrontation. In the end, the US (administration) will abandon them because its interests are above anything else, just as they did to their allies in Lebanon.”

From this week's speech by Sayyed Hassan Nasrallah:

http://jnoubiyeh.blogspot.com/2008/08/sayyed-nasrallah-we-must-overcome.html

Forbes and Hall

I met Forbes and Hall in South Charlie. They were in lockdown together because, I am told, they tended to have fights with others in all the other pods. The first day I noted that they tended not to cooperate. They both dropped their pills and they both turned to the side so that I could not see them swallow. This is incredibly important in Jail Medicine as some meds are used as poker chips and some are actually snorted. They trade them for various things within the pods.

Inmates have money in their accounts which their family and friends send to them from the outside. It is used to buy a visit with the doctor or a toothbrush at the jail commissary. At an incredibly inflated price I might add. Pills are quite valuable in the economy of jail. Psyche meds are free and probably the most valuable of all. Crazy inmates get medicated regardless of their ability to pay. Otherwise, a standard drug like tylenol costs ten bucks a month...a small fortune to an inmate.

Forbes and Hall are black men. I cannot describe what it must mean to be black in a Southeastern Arizona jail. They are the extreme minority there whereas in other areas of the country or even the state, they would most likely be in the majority. Not that it matters all that much because once you are in jail, you are in jail. All things are relatively equal. The old and the young, the male and the female, the junkie and the murderer....all live in the same way i.e. in a hellish condition.

On Tuesday I arrived to South Charlie and barked out the usual, "Meds, bring water!" and noted that Forbes was outside of his and Hall's room and sitting downstairs on the concrete picnic tables that are de rigueur in jail. He was smiling and I greeted him with a salaam wa alaikum.

He said, "What?"

I said, "I am a muslim. Salaam wa alaikum."

Forbes' face lit up like a plastic tree at Christmas. He said, "Hall is a muslim!" By then he was standing and looked quite excited. I imagine that I did too. It isn't any secret but many black men find Islam when they are incarcerated and I was banking on that possibility when I greeted Forbes. He told me, "Hall doesn't want his medication."

I began to climb the stairs and Forbes kept pace behind the guard and myself. He was quite animated and was saying some things that he often heard Hall say like in'sha'allah. I knocked on the narrow window and said, "Hall! Salaam wa alaikum Hall!"

Hall was, as is his usual, laying underneath the gray woolen blanket with his face to the wall. When he heard me, he shot up in the cot like a bullet. And he smiled. It was the first time I'd seen Hall smile. Usually he is withdrawn, angry and never utters a single word. I saw his teeth for the first time. He was shocked. I wasn't. I was however happy at this discovery albeit not happy that a muslim is in jail.

The next day I went to Hall's room with the same female guard who had related to me the story of her wayward cousin whom she hadn't heard from since her Arab husband had taken her "over there". She was excited as well..that Hall was a muslim and wanted to be in on the action between myself and Hall. She is the guard with a God Given smile. There are all types of prison guards you know...some of them are fabulously kind. Some are not. Some are sadistic as hell but I'd have to say the kind outnumber the sadists and keep them in check at the County Jail.

Hall came to the door and greeted me as is the custom and I returned the greeting. I asked him to show me his Quran. Although Hall had been refusing his meds for a couple of weeks, now he wouldn't dream of missing the opportunity to greet me. I felt the same way and looked forward to each interaction.

He went to his cot and brought out the Quran which he kept wrapped in a clean white towel. He presented it to me and I noted it was the Barnes and Noble variety which is often the only type of Quran a person can find in the United States. I mean to say, most do not know where to go to purchase a "real" Quran.

A "real" Quran must have in it the actual Arabic text alongside of the translation. This Quran that he showed to me is mass produced in the United States and is translated...how to say it? Loosely. It is presented as one would present a paperback novel and as if the Quran could be read in the same manner as one reads a "story". Which is not the case with the Quran.

I asked the guard if Hall could have visitors and Hall immediately replied "I don't have any visitors but I can have them." I said I would try to find a way to visit him and bring him a Quran that has Arabic text beside the English translation. I still have a few extra copies from the class I taught over a year ago.

I asked the guard about the Chaplain and whether or not he was employed by the jail. Apparently, that is a luxury that jails don't provide. Chaplains must raise their own funds and do not get paid for their services within jails.

I ran into the Chaplain just yesterday. I will have to admit, I'd seen him a few times before that and something about him didn't sit well with me. I cannot say what it is that bothers me about him but something does. I introduced myself and asked him about getting a real copy of the Quran to Hall. He said that Hall already had a Quran. A Quran that the chaplain had brought to him as he (the chaplain) serves the needs of "all" the denominations found in the jail. Or, he said, he finds muslim or jewish members of the community who can address the needs of special members in the jail population.

Now. Trying to explain something about Islam to a fundamentalist Christian...well. It is not very easy because truth be told, I am not allowed to insult a Christian in any way nor am I allowed to try to make him believe what I believe, understand what I understand. Of course most people know that fundamentalist Christians do not practice the same policy. They are out to convert anyone and everyone. I explained to the chaplain that for a Quran to be a valid Quran, it has to have the actual Arabic text in it.

The chaplain said to me, "But Hall can't read Arabic."

I said I know he can't. That isn't the point. Christians...most of them anyway...simply do not understand the gravity of translation of sacred texts and the printing of the same. It's a matter of policy to muslims. Not all of course but it is for those who understand the literal nature of the Quran, it absolutely is.

The chaplain told me that if I wanted to pass a book along to Hall that he would have to evaluate it prior to giving it to him.

I said to myself...oh brother! And if I could, I would have said to the chaplain:

And you are?

...to be continued.

The Juicy Parts of Islam

Accompany my zeal on the path, O Ta'ir al-Quds,
The path to the goal is long, and I new to the journey.
Leave not this stage without the company of Khidr,
There is darkness ahead; be afraid of losing the way.

You know, we muslims are alot more exciting than just a few fatwas and stonings. There is so much to know but until one passes through the requisite stages that seem to be drudgery and self denial, one doesn't get to understand the phenomenal states of consciousness that cannot be related (very well) to anyone who hasn't experienced them. It is the Not Yeti, maybe later! type of thing. Until you actually know the Yeti, you will inevitably fail to establish the existence of the Yeti to others. And no...the Yeti is NOT Allah. Not at all! Sure...it is possible to hint and tantalize those who haven't achieved certain abilities (an audience), but more often than not, it fails in one way or another to convince. Achieved...for lack of a better word because at the end of the day, clearly.....getting to the peak of success isn't something one chooses to do. Completely the opposite...it is the Why Me? Why Not Me? type of thing...one is chosen. One doesn't know why necessarily but one may begin to know why over time...that one is taken into another realm which inevitably changes their human perception into something vastly different that the ordinary "frame of mind", "worldview", etc, etc, etc.

Here is more about Irfan from the Shia perspective. Knowing this or at least reading this might assist some to understand how many things on this blog work. How the poems differ from other types of things and how seemingly meaningless events can actually make sense if put into the right perspective...say...in short stories. Short stories are great for demonstrating Irfan in a practical way. Poems on the other hand....or rather "poets" tend to abuse their rights of gnosis. It could actually be said that this is the negative capability that so evades description even by the most well read and well educated of writers and poet spooks. The abuse of gnosis by poets or rather, the imitation of gnosis by those without the spiritual preparation for actual gnosis, results in a state of poetic confusion.

This is a link for the Ahl Bayt digital library which I use probably more than use anything else save for the Boolean Quranic search engine out of Stanford (because of its convenience but not for its accuracy in translation):

http://www.al-islam.org/LWM/

"In the spiritual methodology of 'irfan, much mention is made of the heart and the states and happenings it will experience, and these experiences are known only to the wayfarer of the path during the course of his struggles and his journey on the path, while other people have no idea of these states and happenings."

Al-Kafi relates that one morning after performing the dawn prayer, a young man (Harithah ibn Malik ibn Nu'man al-'Ansari) caught the Prophet's eye. Lean and pale, his eyes sunken, he gave the impression of being unaware of his own condition and of being unable to keep his balance. "How are you?" inquired the Prophet . "I have attained certain faith," the youth replied. "What is the sign of your certainty?" the Prophet asked.

The youth replied that his certainty had immersed him in grief. It kept him awake at night (in worship) and thirsty by day (in fasting), and had separated him from the world and its matters so completely that it seemed to him as if he could see the Divine Throne already set up (on the Judgement Day) to settle the people's accounts, that he together with all of mankind were raised from the dead. He said that it seemed to him that even at that moment he could see the people of Paradise enjoying its bounties, and the people of hell suffering torments and he could hear the roar of its flames.

The Holy Prophet (S) turned to his Companions and told them, "This is a man whose heart has been illuminated with the light of faith by God". Then he said to the youth, "Preserve this condition you are in, and do not let it be taken away from you." "Pray for me," the youth replied, "that God may grant me martyrdom."
Not long after this encounter, a battle took place, and the youth, taking part, was granted his wish and was martyred.

Irfan
..on the way to Pirtleville Prison

I've been reading a little lately....a book by Karen Armstrong titled, The Battle for God which according to that link can be bought for just one cent! Amazing.

I used to appreciate her work alot more than I do now but all the same, the book has some engaging insights into the historical events that have led to the current revolution in Islam. Ms. Armstrong has always had a fondness for us Shia even if it is the case that she discusses things from a decidedly outsider POV. She is the closest a non muslim person can come to actual understanding of Shia logic and practice. It is her discussion about the knowledge of Irfan which the late and great Grand Ayatollah Ruyollah Khomeini possessed and utilized to formulate what is now known as the Shia Revival that led me to want to read a bit more about this mystical doctrine.

I realized that I could tell the computer a thing or two about Irfan myself. Maybe not what real scholar could say but all the same, I wanted to document a few of the mystical things that I've seen over the past few weeks.

I was on my way to my duty station in Douglas and passed by a bus on its way to the state penitentiary which is just outside of old Pirtleville. I've heard that out there, they do not give the inmates shoes because without shoes, the prison is a virtual Alcatraz. The desert cannot be crossed in shoes let alone with bare feet. In fact, one of my professional associates who is the head of what we call "Jail Medical" for Cochise County told me that he cared for an undocumented Mexican who had given up on his journey across this no-man's land called the Sonora Desert because his feet became so swollen and infected inside of his shoes that he opted to be caught instead of continue with his group. Ed told me that the man arrived the first day to have his feet soaked and dressed, and he was so p0lite and so thankful only to return the next day in leg irons and multiple guards all with stun guns aimed at his person. Turned out that the man was a known Cartel member and had lots of human blood on his hands. His feet did get better and more than likely he was on the bus that I saw just about a month ago on the road to Pirtleville and Perdition. He had tried to walk right into the country alongside the indigenous and the pious. What incredible audacity!

Why was I so alarmed however, at this bus? I'll tell you why. Because it was a Dick Cheney, Inc. bus. Lanny, my good old friend and correspondent would truly appreciate the horror I sensed when I saw Wackenhut painted in big broad letters across the sides of the bus. Wackenhut! The folks that brought us the Union Carbide Bhopal disaster. You can read a bit about it in a sanitized version here: http://www.corpwatch.org/article.php?id=14325

Now...how on earth did I find myself in the company of such folks as those who build and maintain penitentiaries!

The etymology of the word is as follows:

(c.1421, "place of punishment for offenses against the church," from M.L. penitentiaria, from fem. of penitentiarius (adj.) "of penance," from L. pænitentia "penitence". Meaning "house of correction" first found 1806 (originally an asylum for prostitutes). Slang shortening pen is attested from 1884.)

..from the word "penitence": c.1200, from O.Fr. penitence (11c.), from L. pænitentia "repentance," from pænitentum (nom. pænitens) "penitent," prp. of pænitere "cause or feel regret," probably originally "is not enough, is unsatisfactory," from pæne "nearby, almost." Penitent (adj.) is attested from c.1375; as a noun meaning "one who is doing penance," it is attested from 1412.

I have found many things during my morning stints in the County Jail. I have discovered a whole world that I never knew existed. A world full of those seeking penance from those whose record isn't all that great either. Is it any wonder that there is recidivism?

I have also been discovered by a few of the people there. Just yesterday, an old man approached the jail building as I stood outside having a smoke. He looked at me and I at him and he said, "Now that is certainly a God-Given smile you have! You ought to take it down to the department store and sell it!" I was utterly charmed and then, I realized...he knew me. He somehow told me the truth because perhaps I needed to hear something about the way my face might appear to others. I am very certain that what goes through my head on a daily basis would shock and surprise others if they actually could read my mind. I try to guard myself carefully because what I know might certainly alarm them...or maybe not.

I returned to the building and unlocked the first door, called on my radio for door fifteen to be opened from the control center. The sound of those doors and locks ought to be enough penance for anyone but apparently it isn't. I gathered my medicines together, about a hundred or so little plastic bags filled mostly with antipsychotics, antidepressents and muscle relaxants and went to the control room to ask where I should begin. One of the younger guards who I like very much because of his kind and quiet attitude offered to do the central pods first. That would be the women and those men who need protection from the general population. Mostly sex offenders and two very old men in that pod. As for the women....well. What in the name of Allah are women doing in jail! Especially the little old one!

I finished those pods pretty quick and left the special handling meds for the guard to distribute. It is just too much trouble for them to escort me into the area with padded cells where they keep prisoners who might harm themselves or those who have most definitely harmed others like the two Koreans. These guys are wanted for a triple murder (an ex wife and her children) and arson by the California officials. These guys are also martial arts experts and apparently took down twenty Border Patrol officers before finally being handcuffed and taken to jail. They are so dangerous that when they move them within the facility, they have to have permission to do so from the Commander and they must be accompanied by specially trained SWAT teams.

So I went off to the North pods through door one and door two, calling for control to open them as I approached. The female officer there greeted me. She is also one of my favorites. I don't know why but I think it is her God-Given smile.

She told me to do North Adam first. I picked up my bag labeled NA, removed the paper clip in order to leave it outside of the maximum security pod so that it couldn't be turned into a weapon if it happened to fall from my hands in there and be left behind. I saw Rodriguez who was already looking at me through the window. Clearly these guys find anything and everything an exciting break in the monotony of their days in jail. I told him through the window, "Salaam wa alaikum!"

The guard asked me, "What did you say to him?" I told her that I was a muslim and that fellow had noticed the half gold coin I wear around my neck (upon which is inscribed There is only one Allah) and when he found out I was muslim, he greeted me in the traditional manner. So now I greet him each day with a Salaam wa alaikum!

I expected her demeanor to change but it didn't. Her face looked up and she said her cousin had married a man from Saudi Arabia several years ago. None of her family had heard from her since 9/11. I said, "Oh that is terrible. Sometimes the men in the Gulf and their families can cut Western women off from their families."

But she told me something extraordinary. She said that her cousin was a girl who was in and out of detention facilities, involved in crime and drugs. When she met the Arab man however and married him, her life changed. There was no more detention and no more drugs. She said, "So what if we don't hear from her. She's in good hands and if she hadn't gone there, she'd be here."

Meaning she'd be in jail. Like young Pilar Torres. Like the old woman who has to swallow ten pills for thyroid, for blood pressure, for the usual old lady ailments. Like Dizzy D who belongs in a mental institution, not in the Special Handling unit with two murderous Koreans. Like old Mr. Russel who swallows his two Lithiums each day and greets me with, "Hello Margaret. How are you today?" He insisted on calling me that from the very first day and made me remember his name not by telling me to do so, but by showing me how important each person actually is and actually saying so.

Peace starts between individuals. Irfan....well......I'll leave that for another day. Unless of course you realize that within this story there are secrets and between the lines there are signs for those who possess the ability to look beyond the material and into the spooky world of the unseen.

And heh...Dick Cheney, Inc. in charge of penance! I find that so amusing and I'm sure Lanny would agree. I find it even more insane that most people wouldn't have noticed that Wackenhut logo on the side of a dusty old Bluebird headed out towards Pirtleville. But I sure would. There are no accidents you know.

Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish is dead at 67

http://www.iht.com/articles/ap/2008/08/10/news/Obit-Darwish.php

From: Beirut in Modern Arabic Poetry, an Anthology

An apple for the sea, marble narcissus flower
Stone butterfly, Beirut
Shape of the soul in a mirror
Description of the first woman, smell of early mist
Beirut is built of gold and fatigue
Of Andalusia and Damascus
Silver, seafoam, bequests of earth in the plumage of doves
Death of a cornstalk
Vagrancy of a fugitive star between my love and me
Beirut--I did not hear my blood before I uttered
The name of a mistress
Who sleeps across my blood, who sleeps

*******

Captives we are in this flabby age
Invaders have delivered us up to our kin
No sooner had we gripped the earth than our protector
Pounced on our weedings and memory
So we distributed our songs among the sentries
We found nothing to indicate our identity
Except our blood that climbs the walls and in secret
We sing:

Beirut our tent
Beirut our star

...Beirut the shape of shade...
She tempts us with a thousand overtures
And with new alphabets

Beirut our only tent
Beirut our only star

******

A grey horizon scatters in the distance
Circle paths of mother-of-pearl, not roads
And from Hell to the Atlantic
From the Gulf to Hell right left and center
I saw nothing but a scaffold
With one single rope for two million necks
I see armed cities of paper that bristle
With kings and khaki

******

I see cities crowning their conquereors
And the East sometimes is the opposite of the West
Sometimes the East of the West
Its image and commodity
I see cities crowning their conquerors
Exporting martyrs in order to import whiskey
And the latest thing in sex and torture

******

I see cities that hang their lovers over branches of iron
And drive away the names at dawn

At dawn the guardian of the only idol comes
With a million keys and one scaffold
What are we leaving if not a prison
What have the prisoners got to lose?
We walk toward a distant song
A first freedom
We sense the world's enchantment for the first time
The dawn is blue
And the air can be seen and eaten like figs

Is Beirut a mirror that we can break
To enter into the fragments
Or are we mirrors for the drizzle to shatter?

Beirut, markets hung over the sea
An economy that destroys production
To build hotels and restaurants
A government in a street or an apartment
A coffee bar that turns like the sunflower to the sun
Description of departure and free beauty
Paradise of documents
A seat in the plumage of a bird
Mountains that bow to the sea
A sea that ascends to the mountains
A deer slain by the wings of a sparrow
And a people that do not like the shade

*****

We burned our boats and hung our stars over the outer walls
We did not search for our ancestors in the family trees
We did not travel further than pure bread and our clothes of mud
To the mother-of-pearl of ancient lakes we sent no pictures of our fathers
We were not born asking...
We were born every which way
Spread like ants over a mat of straw
Then we became horses that pull carriages

We who stand in the line of fire
We have burned our boats and embraced our rifles
We shall awaken this land that rested on our blood
And extract our fallen victims from its cells
We shall wash their hair clean with our white tears
Pour over their hands the milk of the soul

******

We who stand in the line of fire declare:

Until the night shall pass We are in the trenches
Beirut eternal we gaze upon the sands

In the beginning we were not created
In the beginning was the word
And now in the trenches
A birth is being prepared

******

A moon shattered over the bench of darkness
Beirut is a lily of rubble
A first kiss
Eulogy of the Zanzalakht tree
Cloaks for the sea and the slain
Roofs for the stars and the tents
Stone poem
Collision between two nightingales hidden in the heart
A bereft sky
Thinking on a stone
A rose that can be heard, Beirut
A voice that separates the victim from the sword
A little boy who flung away the regulations and commands
And the mirrors---
Then fell asleep

Translated by Lena Jayyusi and Christopher Middleton

A Palimpsest in the Making

"The creature has always been out there, and it's out there still," says Sonam Dorji, 77, sitting on the pockmarked wooden floor of his small farmhouse. It's a cold Himalayan morning, and he warms himself beside a wood stove. The smell of burning pine fills the room. "If you travel the ancient trails, even today, there's a good chance you'll meet him."

Ah....yes....I met the Yeti once.

"Mountaineers brought back many of the stories, telling of strange footprints in the snow, of mysterious animals spotted walking on two legs, of tales their porters told around campfires."

"The great Italian climber Reinhold Messner spent years tracking yeti stories across the Himalayas and even caught a glimpse of it a couple times. But in the end, the truth was obvious to him. "All evidence," he wrote at the end of his travels, "points to a nocturnal species of brown bear.""

"So the yeti hunt was on. In 1954, Britain's Daily Mail newspaper sent out a search party. In 1957, a Texas oilman took up the chase. Three years later, Everest conqueror Sir Edmund Hillary searched along the Nepal-Tibet border. In their wake came Soviet expeditions, TV crews, scientists and hucksters."

I cannot remember however....any of the climbers with which I climbed. What some do not realize is this. It isn't the Yeti that is forgotten. It is those who fail in the climb or haven't attempted it that don't see it. We the "partisans" often joke about those types who have not yet found him and say, "Not Yeti! Maybe later!"

The Ascent of a Sherpa


He was common, ordinary so to speak nothing special about him, the usual clothing worn by Sherpawarm, useful.Not thin coated. Engaged as he was in public debate he found it difficult to make a decision,whether to lead or to follow. It came down, in the end, to the need for enough diesel fuel for winter to pour into a certain kind of heater that escapes description universally.Twelve Nepalese were killed in Baghdad today, someone whispers to me. Not that it matters. So he put together some things: bread, cheese, Sherpa Foods, the usual fare and set out to rendezvous with the ten or so moralistically staunch climbers engaging him. Moralistic in that they insisted on the unusual. Very moral. We should say ethical but that is just not physical enough. They met and he collected the agreed upon Sherpa coin. No one knows what it looks like. It might be Chinese or in this case, Ben Franklin-like because of the universality of Empirialistic trade, so it goes in the impoverished world. Doesn't matter to us or to the Sherpa who Ascends. He turned to the leader of the group who had learned Sherpa Language easily enough, certain tough families of words useful to climbing: torch, fire, food, oxygen,death, liquor, book, socks, cold, die-ing (being a progressive form of the former), pain, mother, father, and of course, candy...he said, "I'll have to stay ahead of you all, I'm uncomfortable in the company of others." The leader was puzzled but agreed to this stipulation all the same. It must be some sort of standard in Nepal he thought, some sort of requirement."How will we follow then?"

"I'll leave my footprints in the snow of course." "Oh," the leader said, chastened at his own stupidity. The trek began the next morning which happens pretty early up there, finishes pretty late, with the Sherpa starting off at night, slipping out as fast as he could go, like an angel in the moon's glow, one mustn't dally on a short night.The moralistically inclined group set out, pleased to see the tracks well defined, deep and the weather pleasant, the mountaintopin view, achievable. Very optimistic,if you will. Occasionally they caught sight of the Sherpa, his head bobbing up and downin the distance, disappearing behind rocks, reappearing. The tracks were still quite good. The second day was much the same only the Sherpa was no longer in sight, the tracks slightly obscured by the light snows. Some of the tracks looked a bit altered, a yeti paw here or a goat print there, but that was expected. No one bristled yet. The climber at the end of the rope disappeared yet no one noticed, each of them caught in their own meanings, their own cold. By the third day however, the bristling was looking more like a forest fire, the cold was like a burning heat, the sun was no longer just the sun but an actual star, the sky was no longer so far away, the shells of gas, the rings of Jupiter, all of them somehow related.The tracks had completely disappeared and were replaced by paw prints: first a snow leopard then some kind of bird, a Wolf and finally, a palimpsest. The party finally noticed one after the other,the disappearances of the others until they were all gone and the final moralistic climber was left to himself and felt the Sherpa beside him, pulling him strenuously, dragging him, whipping him with a leather strap, the Sherpa's nails digging into his frozen flesh. He'd been there all along and had dismissed the members one at a time, disguised as a snow leopard, a yeti, a Wolf until he decided which one he could keep company with.

"Here we are." he said, peaceful and not very excited,he'd been to the spot how many times now,"How do you like it?"

"Die-ing," he replaced the form deliberately. The Sherpa deliberately replied, "Death."