Two minutes: Enemy of the tribe

There was, once upon a time, a small tribe that lived in a deep jungle. They were migrant farmers, traveling from cultivation spot to cultivation spot, depending on the season and their fancy. In their absence, these spots were often used by other tribes, with the understanding that they would set aside small amount of their harvest. This symbiosis benefited all involved, keeping the soil fresh and turned, providing sustenance for the inhabitants of the jungle

Their traditions compelled them to hospitality and friendliness toward visitors- their words for strangers and visitors translated into "friends-who-are-not-yet-friends" and "visitors-and-we-are-their-friend". If they didn't like someone, they would become "Friend-that-is-not-talked-to", usually adding "until we talk again", implying that ire was temporary and a return to friendship imminent.

One day, they were visited by a random anthropologist. Fascinated by the vocabulary their worldview had assigned to the many possibilities and iterations of friendship, having lived with them a number of months, asked "But what do you call those that you fight with? Those who have robbed you? Wronged you? Stolen from you?"

And on this evening, they were re-introduced, in broken fragments of language to the concept of "those-who-are-not-our friends", and that these might include people who shared their land, the visitors they hosted, and even the anthropologist. The anthropologist believed that this introduction to the concept of competition could only enrich what he had described in his journals as a "[…] charmingly naîve and primitive worldview, based on cooperation and cohabitation, absent of the concept of competition for limited resources".

After he had returned to his tent, the tribe discussed these concepts. They thought back to the times before they had adopted their current role as peacekeepers in their region, in which they had maintained many soldiers to subdue rival tribes and fought bloody wars to expand their supremacy. They thought back to the realisation that though powerful, they had been more preoccupied with maintaining that power than with the cost they were paying- they had no farms, and so had to tax, or ransack weaker tribes lands and could not care for themselves without conquest. Their happiness was based on proving their influence, power and wealth to each other- whatever the cost, or harm. They used different words for the world then- words that no longer described the world they had chosen.

In the morning, they informed the anthropologist that they called those who had been their enemies "mostly dead", using not the descriptor "friends-that-we-remember", now equally applied to tribespeople and their many friends, choosing instead to edify him with the old term "foes-that-we-slaughtered", which he understood much too easily- these were words he would soon return to, in a world in which anthropology was a word. In that moment, he felt foolish for his assumptions of simplicity and naïvite, even more so when he learned that the night had also borne him a name with the tribe- "Friend-who-wanted-us-to-have-enemies".

IGAF: Utopia- Les Jours Meilleurs

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote this post, titled Dystopia , containing a dark version of the future, a look at the negative outcomes that might crawl out of the COVID-19 crisis. It has, by now been described as "9/11 in slow motion". Someone else broke a golden editorial rule to describe it as "2008 on crack". Media outlets, including Youtube, have warned of the long-term effects of this, on civil rights, labour and employment, surveillance and press freedom. And some, most notably Mr Orban of Hungary, have used this excellent opportunity to pass new, restrictive legislation that concentrates power in their hands. There have been calls for the elusive COVID cure not to be patented. And yet… And yet… It's easy to lose yourself in a media bubble, following the news and media 24/7, following, queuing in line to get into expensive shops, just walking into discount stores and the constant desire for many drinks (preferably with 10 friends or more, in a park

In Taheyya we Trust - How an Egyptian bellydancer found her posthumous stage in Berlin

“You should have winked at her,” Aida said dismissively, as if such a possibility had been imaginable for someone as timid as I was. Tahia Carioca was the most stunning and long-lived of the Arab world’s Eastern dancers (belly-dancers, as they are called today). Edward Said, Farewell to Taheyya My story with Taheyya begins in the summer of 2016, at Bulbuls Café in Görlitzer Str. in Berlin. It ends two blocks down on Wiener Str 17. Bulbuls is a café and art space around my corner that I have grown to like to sit in and drink smoothies (1). He had commissiond us- a crew of Syrian and Egyptian artists, as well as myself, to paint the walls inside the café. El Tenneen (the Dragon) is the one who ended up drawing Sheikh Imam, with the help of Salam Alhassan (known as Salahef/ Turtles) and Sulafa Hijazis (whom we call El Hayya/The Snake’s) beamers’ illumination. The Sheikh sits happily in the place to this day and Crew El-Zoo was born. Tenneen had the adv

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Caramblogage

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