Priapus Dionysis

ثقافة التشظي وعبادة الانحطاط

Posted in My Cities My Life, On the Margin by Priapus_D on November 5, 2012

نحن مجتمع يعشق الانقسام والمفاضلة ويُقدس ثقافة التشظي.
في أرض كنعان قرى تفصلها عن بعضها كيلومترات معدودة ومع ذلك تتحدث بلهجات مختلفة.
سكان هذه القرية بإمكانهم رؤية القرية المجاورة بأعينهم المجردة ولكنهم لم يتكلموا مع جيرانهم لعقود وربما لقرون ولذلك اختلفت اللهجات.
أظن أن ثقافة التشظي مطبوعة في جيناتنا. فمنذ العصر الحديدي، لا بل العصر البرونزي، لم نستطع أن نتوحد واقصى ما نجحنا في تحقيقه هو بناء مدينة تعادي جاراتها. لم يوحدنا شيء سوى وقوعنا تحت سيوف الغزاة.
تَقَسُمُنا ثلاثي الأبعاد، وأينما وجد فضاء في النسيج الاجتماعي أبدعنا في قصقصته.
عموديا انقسمنا انقساما طبقيا تغطى بعباءة تنوع النشاط الإقتصادي.
أفقيا تقسمنا بحسب الطائفة والدين وكل منا اختبئ خلف إلهه.
وفي العمق أخرجنا أكثر مسرحيات الانقسام القبلي والعرقي درامية.
وفوق هرمية التشظي المقدسة تلك توجنا عرش الانحطاط باحتقار الأنثى.

Amman through Time

Posted in My Cities My Life by Priapus_D on March 17, 2010

In this post I will try to talk about a mystery that puzzled me every time I began thinking about the roots and history of our beloved Amman. This curiosity entertains my mind each time I pass through its streets, for I fail to find any traces of the splendour of Islamic civilisation in this city. It seems that a thousand years of Islamic culture had passed while Amman was asleep!

I do not claim that I am an authority when it comes to matters of history, but all the cities I have visited in the middle east show clear effects of Islamic presence on their architecture, planning, traditions, and social grouping, but Amman lacks any of those signs.
A hasty search in Wikipeidia gives only two lines about what happened to Amman through the prime time of Islamic civilisation, they mention that it prospered a bit during the Ummayyad rule due to its proximity to Damascus and then after the Abbasid era, earthquakes had reduced this village into nothing buy a heap of rubble. Only in the late Ottoman era did a few Circassians settle this abandoned village in 1887 and it gained some relevance after the Ottoman began to building the Hijaz railway.
Numismatic evidence available to me does not show a single Islamic coin minted in Amman during Ummayyad and Abbasid times. But Yaqout has mentioned Amman in his Index with a relatively medium sized entry, therefore, Amman was not that much asleep during the prime time of Islamic civilisation and our ignorance of it’s Islamic history is due to our apathy and inactivity.
In fact much of the history of Amman is not known to it’s inhabitants. The story or myth of how it was created through the incestuous relationship between Lot and his daughters is rarely known here, while because of the Roman Amphitheatre, built by Antoninus Pius, people know that Amman has some Roman origins, still anything beside that is rarely known to the average inhabitant. Amman Hellenic history is not celebrated, though it’s name, Philadelphia, was given to it by the Greek Ptolemy II. Moreover, it was only through one of my visits to the Louvre, that I noticed a statue celebrated as one of the earliest depictions of the human figure (9,000 years old), with a card under it stating that it was discovered in Ain Ghazal, Amman, Jordan. It is truly ironic that the history of your city is celebrated by another city thousands of miles away!
I believe that if we truly love Amman, then it’s history should be more researched, preserved, and communicated, not just left to rot in rarely visited museums or held at the mercy of tomb robbers.

The Infertility of Chaos

Posted in My Cities My Life by Priapus_D on March 1, 2010

It has been around six years since the Syrians left Lebanon. Yet nothing has changed there. The filthy streets stayed filthy and full of holes. In the past they were claiming that the cause of this ugly state of affairs is the Syrian army, which did it’s  best to stop the Lebanese from organising themselves and becoming better. But, now with them out, things seems worse than before.

I stayed for less than 12 hours in Beirut, yet I counted 20 cars passing on the red light, I also observed three vehicles moving in the wrong direction through narrow one way streets. I also could not fail to notice two beggars being spat upon from the windows of luxurious German cars.

In Al-Hambra Street, I could not understand who would buy $400 imitated Italian shoes, to walk in them through these sewage flooded streets; for after the stormy night, parts of Beirut looked more like Venice.

But what really entrained me is the rich vocabulary that passers by have for the world whore. For in a 10 minute walk, to a corner grocery shop, I heard the word whore used 27 times in 27 flavours. I guess only a true poet can appreciate such a linguistic fertility.

I went there hoping to apply for the American University in Beirut, but after seeing the chaos of that city, I only pray to God to have mercy on the souls of the poor people living there.

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Sweet Soar Amman

Posted in My Cities My Life by Priapus_D on July 8, 2009

Finally I got you Amman. Finally I feel the sweet soar taste of revenge. Many nights you made my soul bleed the tears of sadness because of your arrogance and inflated sense of self esteem. So many days your deserts lied to the fools who thought they were green pasture plains. Even your oasis of pride is dry today. The dunes finally understood that they can not face the mountains. Cry, for you have caused many tears. Cry for the damask robes you torn to wear your shiny polyester gowns. Weep, for the all the wheat stalks you sold to buy your golden dunes, and the domes you exchanged for your damp concrete ugliness.  A faulty spirit can never rival a righteous one. A dark basement can not darken the sunny sky. Stop your hypocrisy and stop lying to yourself and to the others.

No matter how much hard you change your skin, your heart will always be oriental. your fancy new brothels will never rival the seraglio. Your bedwin accented english can not shout as load as the letters the Nabateans carved in your stones.

Before throwing away your dishdash, do not just bring a black tie, try to learn how to wear it. All your Lanvin and Armani stores do not hold one real bow tie. None of your children knows how to tie it. None of your shiny towers hold an event that requires you to wear one.

Go back to your dishdash, for at least you know what it is.

I cry of you and on you.I cry from the pain the monster you turned into causes me. I cry when I see what a monster you became. The letters of your name are falling like the teeth of an old witch, yet you dance in Jara like a young vestal virgin. Do you know who you are. Do you still remember………?

Wake up ….. you can lead again….!

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First Timer

Posted in My Cities My Life by Priapus_D on November 30, 2008

This is my first time to try to select some words, from them into sentences, edit them, archive them, then label them as a blog entry. Or in simpler way, this is my first time to write.

I do not know why I feel intimidated by this simple action. It feels as if I am going to build a skyscraper not just write a few lines. I only hope that I would be able to write something which would be productive, something that might help someone, something that is good. Though, I may only just spill lots of digital ink to end up with something that can only be described as nonsense.

Having many empty hours in the day along with a very provocative environment that surrounds me, were the main reason to start this blog. Empty hours can have a very destructive effect on the mind; they should start printing black minds and health warnings on empty hours of calendars the same way that they print black lungs and health warning on cigarette packets. On the other hand living in the Middle East is like living under 20 tones of burden, and if you leave such a weight on your chest, you have only three options: suffer an early heart attack like me, give out a small fortune to a shrink, or turn out to be a middle eastern freak like many of us. Suffering from those two diseases, I started this blog, hoping it might be a fourth alternative to the choices I have just mentioned.

I will write here about provocative experience that I endure in my never ending drama. Believe or not, some of that drama can turn to be hilarious comedies or at least interesting to read about. I have no coherent set of ideas that I want to advertise, no formal dogma or ideology to brag about, I only have chaotic ideas that are really hard to connect with no planned agenda.

I welcome you to this jungle of words may you, I , and every body else come out of it with no snake bites or malaria.

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