Magic Carpet

What's up ya'll. Trying to keep up with this blog is not always easy. Going from one city to the next, questionable internet service, and just being plane old exhausted. 'm going to try and update you on the past few days. Last when we communicating I was impersonating a wealthy person, and playing with pink yarn with the Turkish version of Martha Stewart. Since then I had an amazing last day in Turkey. It started with a visit to the Blue Mosque. It's one of those places that when you step inisde you start clicking your camera lick mad, not sure what to shoot first. Since I'm not a photographer, I don't think my pictures will do much justice. I made salat (prayed) inside the blue Mosque, such an enormus honor, to lay my forehead and my soul on that carpet. I started to loose battery power shortly after exiting the Mosque, and my 32MB memory card was full, so the driver was nice enough to help me find a camera shop where I was able to purchase a pricey new memory card. Next, off to the Hagia Sophia. One of the wonders of the world, you feel the history flow through as yo travel up its spine, from the main level to the second level. The walls and stain glass tell stories of Christian and Muslim period that span from 3AD. After viewing all that history, naturally we we were famished, so off we went to enjoy a traditional Turkish meal. Yum yum, full full, stomachs lined with Turkish cafe and plenty of energy now to be used on haggling at the grand bazarr. Like anyone else I purchased items for people I care about, and bought a Turkish rug for my home.
Our host Sevile then took us to a shop owned by her friend Errol. Errol is one of the most respected sellers of Moroccan rugs in Morocco. Errol was very generous, we all sat down and enjoyed some Moroccan tea as he laid prayer rub after prayer rug at our feet. Errol was not trying to sell us any rugs, he was simply trying to educate and share with us some of most beautiful and high quality rugs you may ever find. One rug, two rug, ten rugs, and then there was that rug. The color and pattern looked familiar. I was a child, and my father had a prayer rug that was a smaller version of the rug I was gawking at. I said out loud, that rug looks like my fathers old prayer rug. That statement was followed by unchained memories and tears. Everyone in the room knew this was a special moment, and it was clear to me I had to have that prayer rug. My father passed away several years ago, and I think of him always. Morocco and Turkey have brought me closer to Islam, and when I return home turn toward Mecca, and make salat, I will remember my father with every rakat.

Innsha Allah
Gamal

The World Is My Hood

After having a gourmet breakfast this morning which included heart shaped waffles, looking out at the magnificent Bosphorus strait, it became clear to me that this week I would be imitating the wealthy (someone who enjoys a much higher tax bracket than myself). The sky is overcast, but not to worry, the wealthy can purchase views that rival the sun. Most likely, I will feel compelled to satisfy my palette with a $100.00 bottle of red wine, and it may be time drape my torso with a fine cashmere sweater, but that will have to take a back seat to our television debut. Today we will be broadcast on one of Turkeys most popular morning shows. The shows host is Daria; she's kinda like the Martha Stewart of Turkey. The show went well, we performed some pieces, rolled some yarn into balls of yarn, dropped the balls of yarn, worked up a sweat from rolling the yarn into balls of yarn, and then dropped the balls of yarn some more (damn, there goes my Hood card). After the show we took a picturesque ferry ride over to the Asian side of Istanbul, yeah the Asian side. I have to admit, I was not aware that part of Turkey is in Asia, but it is. After getting off the ferry we ate a tradional Turkish meal and ran back to the ferr so we wouldn't miss the boat. Literally. Heart shaped waffles, ferry boats, cashmere sweaters, and pink balls of yarn. The world is my hood.

Turkey, A breath of fresh air.....

Though the air is fresh and clean in Turkey, my stomach took a turn for the worse. We got to Turkey and people seemed pleasant. We stopped by a TV studio, where we will be gueast artist on a national Turkish craft show. We will be cooking, knitting and spittin. Spittin, you know. Performing our works. It's funny but I have gotten out of the habit of using slang on this tour because our terms are very specific to where we come from. Like "mad sweet". Think about it, it is a clear contradiction. Mad and sweet kind of cancel eachother out. You can't be mad and sweet at the same time. So, after our tour of the studio we checked into our hotel. The hotel is sick! Well, it's not really sick, I'm sick. No really. After we arrived my stomach started "buggin". I mean, I caught a bug...not in my hand. I didn't actually catch a bug. My point is, the hotel is very chic, and european with a lot of class and style. There, that's better. Now anyone can read that sentence, and understand what I'm talking about. The view is stunnig. The Radisson resort sits off the Bosphorus, a glistening body of water straddled by a bridge with its on light show. As I am writing this blog, well, I'm not really writing...typing would be more accurate, but as I am putting my thoughts together, my fever has subsided a bit. I am planning to get some more rest, without sweating bullets. Ok so I'm not going to go into the whole sweating bullets thing. I'm just going to get some rest so that I can fully embrace Turkey instead of my designer pillow.

Peace...or until tomorrow.
Gamal Abdel

Perched above sea level
around midnight
Tunisia twinkles/below the stars
as if she is trying/to tell me something
but I only understand/what I see
her language/falls short of my ears
stray dogs seem to catch her drift
they bark/discussing the politics in Tunisias Monologue
My mind goes to sleep
while my body/waits for a wake up call
followed by a sweet call to prayer
a religious last attempt
To sell me on her message
But it's to late
I'm running out of time
Turkey is calling my name now

What's White and Blue All Over

I got a busted connection at a five star hotel, so I gotta keep it brief. We checked out ruins in Carthidge Tunisia. Check the pics to follow. We went out to eat and ordered some nasty pizza. Maybe it was nasty because I am still suffering from this annoying cold. To make up for my flavorless pizza, we went to the ancient Greek ampitheater in Carthidge Where we (Universes) sang for the gods. That was kinda hot. Later in the evening we did a bit of haggling with local merchants in this part of town where all the buildings are white with sky-blue doors. The architecture out here is beautiful. But a U.S. dollar doesn't get you anymore than it does in the U.S. Thank you Bush for your seven years of leadership! Before ending our day with Dinner, Ellen, the cultural achete took us to smoke shesha (flavored tobacco), though they have tons of shesa cafes in the Lower East Side, they do not have this view.

Sick Day

We flew into Tunisia and my enormus head cold came for the ride. I went to bed and stayed there the rest of the night. Slipping in and out of bad cable television, and cold sweats.
The end!

Day & Night in Tunisia

Day & Night in Tunisia

So, Im still sick, but I aint no punk. Had some free breakfast at 8:00 this morning and then proceeded to workshop with some MA students who are studying urban culture in the United States. Since we had a scheduled show for 5:00 PM this afternoon, I told myself and everyone involved that I would not talk, but it was impossible to stay quite. We were having true dialog about both our cultures and the challanges thqt come with them. The most profound moment for me came when I asked the class the question, how do they as young Muslims from Tunisia percieve the way U.S citizens respond to their own tragidies such as, Hurricane and 911. One of the students responding by saying, that because the way that Muslims are misrepresented, that many people in the U.S. may think that the majority of Muslims support and celebrate such tragidies. He further stated that the truth is because inoccent human lives are taken and destroyed the only repsonse can be a human response. A response which includes sorrow, sympathy and compassion, just to name a few of those human emotions we are all so burdened with. I have been in Tunisia only two days, and there is one movie channel that seems to show movies late at night the show only the worst portrayal of Black people. Right before you exit the airport there is a airport resturaunt to your left that a statue of a very happy Black Sambo. That's right a life sized....Shit! A bigger than life sized Black Sambo. My point is, at one point or another we have all been guilty of excepting or laughing at negative images and sterotypes of each other, and I guess sometimes these things are actually funny. But when we start believing in the stereotypes and treating people based off of those warped believes, there lies a problem. Quite honestly, people are just people. Fathers and Mothers want to pay their bills and feed their famitlies, no matter where they are from. I know this isn't necessarily new and astonishing information, but somehow I think it can't hurt to be reminded. We all respond to life the only way we possibly can, as the human beings we are designed to be.

Signed,
One person to another
Peace draft 2:45:00 PM by Gamal's Blog Delete