Language: English

#     Showdown with Iran
Wednesday, October 24th, 2007

Watch this interesting documentary by Frontline producer Greg Barker about the complex relationship between the US and Iran, broadcasted on October 23, 2007:

http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/showdown/view/main.html

The docu is devided in seven chapters. In chapter FIVE, the US ties to the MEK are discussed (timeline: 6:05 minutes). MEK, also known as MKO, is an Iranian opposition group based in Iraq.

Screenshot of the MEK base:

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#     Left foot forward
Friday, October 5th, 2007

Don’t you think life is full of surprises? Mine is. I am a 26 year old woman, born in Iran and living in the Netherlands. I grew up in a millitant Islamic sect in Iraq (1, 2), destined to become a “freedom fighter”. Life turned out quite differently. You can read more about it in this blog.

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#     Dear mister presidents
Wednesday, September 19th, 2007

Dear mister presidents,

You both love God and you both hate gays. Plus you’re both screwing Iraq in your own special ways. So before the sky crumbles and life on earth ends… Could you please con-si-der the pos-si-bi-li-ty of becoming friends?

Thanks in advance!

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#     About a boy
Friday, September 7th, 2007

“In your head,
in your head they’re still fighting” *

Has anybody seen a boy with light skin, silky half-long hair and a black Samsonite office case in his left hand? He’s always dressed up in suits and he travels first class. Because this boy is a businessman. He’s very tall. I don’t know how tall exactly but very tall. His hands are delicate, with long fingers and polished finger nails, almost like that of a woman. And his eyes are of a crazy shade of blue. You will not notice this strange color at first glance. You will only discover it if you look at him very carefully, while he’s looking at you with his eyes wide open. At least that’s how I discovered it on my first and last encounter with him, 16 years ago, when he was 6 and I was 9.

It was in Baghdad, on a midnight during the Gulf war of 1991. It must have been somewhere at the end of the year (Iranian calendar), because there was a chill in the air. But maybe the weather was not the only reason why I felt so damn cold. I had just spent an evening with my family, in the corner of a big big hall, way down in the basement of a tall tall building in central Baghdad. The hall was full of families, scattered around. There were children running up and down the place, laughing with joy, disturbing the little gatherings on their way. I was happy too, but that was before I became cold. I was happy because I hadn’t seen my father, mother, brother and sisters all together for I don’t know how long, it felt like ages. So I was holding my mothers hand, laughing at my fathers jokes and silently wishing that one day I would be as strong as my brother and as brave as my sisters. Read the rest of this entry »

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#     Tidying up
Wednesday, August 29th, 2007

It doesn’t work, my brain. To be more specific: I can’t organize my thoughts.

Throughout my life, I can point out small gaps of time in which I was non-productive and non-responsive. In days like those, I withdraw from the life ouside, safe into my house. Curtains closed, TV-plug out, ready. Then, my main activities are watching how the walls grow closer together and how my houseplants whither. Meanwhile, a weird proces takes place inside my head. Read the rest of this entry »

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#     Message to my hacker
Monday, July 30th, 2007

It’s not nice to steal a persons website Mr. damn you. May your digital camera fall on the ground and burst into trillions of small pieces, so small that even the Lord can’t find them with a telescope. And may everyone who ever Googles your name find this website and Know What You Did This Summer.

EDIT: I took out the text version of your name because I think that it was too much of an invation of your privacy. That doesn’t mean I have forgiven you for hacking my website, deleting my database and destroying my templates. Okay okay I forgive you.

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#     Why I love you
Tuesday, July 10th, 2007

I saw you kneeling in the dirt
You were hurt and high and about to die
You were kneeling in the dirt
Drawing a rainbow on your shirt

Something was flying in the air
It was wiggly and wet and it smelled like shit
It was flying in the air
And there it landed on your hair

That’s how you always make me smile
‘Cause you’re sweet and sad and you’re raving mad
You always make me smile
A couple of minutes before you die.

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#     Veterans day
Friday, June 22nd, 2007

“Take my hand
We’re off to never never land.”

In exactly one week from now, Holland will celebrate it’s National Veterans Day for the third time. This new-born tradition (founded in 2005 and followed by the UK in 2006) is an initiative by the Dutch government “as a gift to all Dutch veterans. An homage to those who fought for peace.” In Afghanistan and Iraq for example.

With the worlds growing disdain for war, the countries who are seeking wars or are actively involved in them are in need of some sort of tribute to their own efforts. Because when you’re investing billions in cash and risking thousands of lives, you have to establish acceptance in the minds of your people before they flip and go “WHAT THE FUCK?!”. When something smells bad, first thing to do is to take out your can of aromatizer and start spraying around, not? In this case, honoring war vets and boosting the feelings of national unity might be the perfect way to do just that. Putting the focus on soldiers of “peace forces” makes it look even more righteous. But stop for a second there, am I the only one who thinks the word “peace” looks a bit odd when it’s standing right next to the word “force”? Read the rest of this entry »

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#     Cigarette ash and good advice
Sunday, June 10th, 2007

“I found myself by circumstance
Across a room where people dance”

The bar stool wasn’t comfortable at all, but a safe refuge from the hectic middle point of the ongoing party nonetheless. The same uptempo Persian Pop song was blasting throught the speakers for the fourth time that night and the figures on the dance floor continued hopping up and down. The poet sitting on my right seemed to have given up talking to me. I glanced at him and watched him blow smoke rings and sip his gin. He turned his head and his eyes caught mine.

“You’re feeling quite lonely in here aren’t you?” He said.

He was right actually. I considered several answers and decided for:

“Lonely?”

“Yes. It seems to me that you’ve created a distance between yourself and all these people. Why?” Read the rest of this entry »

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#     Daddy what’s your name today?
Saturday, June 2nd, 2007

“Daddy what’s your name today?”

I tried to avoid eye contact and pretended to be playing with the five stones that I had found on the streets earlier.

“My name?”

“Yes.”

They were ordinary stones. Gray, brown and black. All of them about the same size. Together they were quite a hand full.

“What kind of question is that?” he tried to sound surprised.

“Because I want to know what name to call you.”

I noticed that one of the stones had little red spots on it, like freckles on dark skin.

“Well, you can call me dad.”

“Okay, but what do your friends call you then?” Read the rest of this entry »

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