Saturday, July 27, 2024

Kal File

Thanks to a blogspot feature I just discovered, I came across these notes I collected a few years ago from my old blog. I lost track of Kal after a few years and he deleted his posts, but here are a few copies I kept because I was very impressed with this young man. Perhaps some day he will identify himself and take credit for his impressive posts in the past.

Collected here are copies of posts from my old blog for future reference. I was inspired to collect them by a brief series of Twitter messages posted by Kal a while ago (May 17, 2013). My plan is to keep these in a "draft" folder for safekeeping so not to embarrass Kal by publishing them.
These messages tell me more about Kal than I knew before. I know he changed his screen name from Nouri to Kal (I didn't mark the date) and has since scrubbed and deleted a lot of old material. But these are the gestures of youth. I'm saving here, scrapbook-style, some of the snapshots I kept of those days he now finds embarrassing, which I always appreciated in the way an old man likes to see young people grow and mature.
I'm copying them without reformatting in the hope that since both are google/blogspot properties they will be compatible.

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TUESDAY, APRIL 18, 2006


The Long War for Freedom: The Arab Struggle for Democracy in the Middle East

Read this book review by Nouri Lumendifi. I can't decide if I am more impressed with the book or the reviewer. After reading what appears to be a very scholarly review of an important newly-released book, I looked at the profile of the reviewer.

The profile description of the blogmaster of The Moor Next Door says he is seventeen years old! I have a hard time believing that. Kids that age just don't write like this. But apparently this one does.
Mission Statement of the Moor Next Door

"The Moor Next Door" is a blog whose purpose is to allow me to express myself and to provide a liberal look at Algerian, and Euro-Maghrebi/Middle Eastern affairs, as well as American, Algerian and European foreign policy. In addition, with this blog I seek to explore various theories of history and politics and how they relate to one another. Issues of nationalism, identity, history, religion, and the like as the fit into the previously mentioned contexts are intended to be the primary focus.

I write this blog with Americans, Europeans, North Africans, liberals, conservatives (in the Middle Eastern sense), and just about every other sort of folk in mind. I do not tailor my posts to them however. I'm not writing to please, but to inform. I base my opinions from facts and I formulate them from what I see and know. If you don't like them, you probably know something I do not, so tell me. I am open to different ideas.

You think that's impressive? Go look at his list of "favorite books."

Oh, and before I forget, this post is about the book he reviewed as well. I am struck by the similarity of how the word liberal may not have the same exact meaning in the Arab world as it does in America, but the word seems to carry a similar stigma. Fascinating, since those who advocate a "liberal" agenda there seem to be advancing the same values that American "conservatives" lay claim to. Problem is, laying claim to a value is not the same as practicing it. Catch thislast paragraph:

Far out numbered by Islamist organizations and sympathizers, Arab liberals face incredible odds. Rubin’s conclusion, that the Arabs must realize their faults and shortcomings, while coming up with solutions to the "thousand and one difficulties" facing the region, is not likely to please ideologues from the nationalist or Islamist camps. The Long War for Freedom answers the oft asked questions of "Why don’t Arabs and Muslims speak out against terrorism and aggression?" or "Where are the Arab Democrats?" by providing an abundance of clear and unequivocal examples, and presenting the arguments of Arab liberals in their own words. Prospects are bleak, but campaigners are committed and bold. Rubin’s book offers little hope as to the growth of liberal movements; that isn’t its point. It rather presents profiles in courage of brave Arabs who are working to put back in place the simplest foundations for democratization and liberalization in the Arab world. Rubin’s book is a must read for those concerned with or interested in Middle Eastern politics or history.


Seems like neo-conservatism is a world-wide phenomenon. Passing as patriotism, preserving and protecting traditional values, it seems to me nothing more than old-fashioned fundamentalism. Hmm?



WEDNESDAY, MAY 17, 2006


Nouri Lumendifi's encounter with prejudice

This remarkable high school kid of Middle Eastern extraction has been blogging a year and a half and doing a great job. I'm not sure, but I think his family may have come from Algeria or elsewhere in the Maghreb. Yesterday's post is a study in maturity and constraint in the face of what can only be described as mind-numbing ignorance on the part of a few of his classmates. As a fifth generation American citizen I used to be embarrassed by such behavior, but I have come to realize that their stripe of prejudice is a transnational quality found all over the world. Fortunately Nouri, like so many immigrants from all over the world before him, has learned to stick up for himself. This part of his post reads like a scene from a movie...
...I was chased home multiple times during 7th grade, for about two or three weeks after 9/11 as black and caucasian peers chased after me throwing rocks and bricks and shouted racial slurs (Ay-rab, "Afghan niggaaar," sandmonkey, desert bunny, Hadji, Usama, etc.) at me. I was beaten pretty badly on several occasions, often to the point where I was bleeding or had bruses or black eyes. The last time I did this I stood up for myself, as no other people would help me (not school administrators, not peers, not anyone). I confronted one kid in particular, Aaron, who took great pleasure in calling me "Afghan niggaaaar" and telling me to "go back to the desert". I engaged him in hand to hand combat. He punched me, I punched him, kicked him and eventually got him on the ground. I pulled him over to a telephone pole with many staples on it from different fliers and advertisements from over the years on it. As his posse watched I smacked his head into the telephone pole, and moved it up and down so that he was cut by the staples. I then walked off. They had no idea as to what to do and just sort of stood there. I was never physically assaulted in such a manner again, though I was still called names.

I am reminded of Al Capone's line that you can get further with a kind word and a gun than you can with just a kind word. In a more recent encounter his response is slightly less dramatic, and the sting of being the object of racist attitudes is still apparent. A dedication to non-violence holds me to another standard, but there is nothing in my system forbidding satisfaction if a non-pacifist takes a more forceful course in his own defense.
Last week I was also physically attacked by a group of four guys, none of whom I know or have seen before. These guys asked for my wallet, I said no, they pushed me, and said "Eye-racki, give up the oil money," I again said no. More slurs, "Fuckin' Ay-rab, go home." I told them I am going home if they would just step to the side. "Ay-rab doesn't know his place," I then shouted a profanity at them in Berber. I am not an Arab! They punched me. So I took a cheap shot and knocked one of the bastards in the nads and made off. I kept my wallet, by the way. Don't think I'm some kind of super fighter either; I'm skinny, damn near weightless and don't really know how to fight. I just know how to preserve, and I don't like fighting. I firmly believe the saying that "The ink of the scholar is worth more than the blood of the martyr".
This kid has class.
He's right, too, about the ink of the scholar...
Link here to my first post about Nouri.
Now go read his post from yesterday.


MONDAY, MAY 22, 2006


Nouri Lumendifi -- Fresh, bright voice of the future

Another fine outpouring from an articulate young man. Big heart, big intellect and big mouth. And I don't say that with any hint of malice. Young people don't put up with dishonesty, and this episode illustrates the point. In the end all battles are won or lost when facts are allowed to be known.
Last summer I attended a youth conference on diplomacy that took me to three Western European countries with a host of American youths from all over the United States. The contingent was overwhelmingly white, though there were four or five Arabs (all from Virginia, or New Jersey, with the exception being myself from Connecticut), a Persian (from LA), and perhaps two or three American blacks, each from different states.

At this conference we participated in a United Nations simulation. The couple of hundred odd mass of youths was divided into the various organs and committees of the UN. I was given China's seat on the UN Security Council, which was tasked with dealing with the genocide in Darfur. Before each meeting we were given briefings on debate procedure and resolution writing, as well as the background of the issue we were covering and our countries' backgrounds.

Nouri was assigned to role-play the Chinese delegate and the debate began. Unfortunately (or fortunately for this discussion) the moot debate got out of hand when a black girl from Missouri allowed her identity as an African-American to overcome her assigned role in the exercise. She attacked our hero for his vote, not because of his assigned role as delegate from China, but because he was not "black."

"You're not African," I said. The other kids went silent. "I'm more African than you. I think in Berber. I speak it. I have family living in Africa, and that fought for liberation from colonialism. I have citizenship in the African Union. What do you think you're doing telling me I'm a slave trader?"

"You're not African," she said again. "You're Arab."

"Sure, I'm Arab. And you're English. Being conquered by an Arab doesn't make you Arab."

She had no idea what I meant. I was just a swarthy Arab of uncertain origins to her.

"I'm African because I'm black," she blabbered. "You're not because you aren't black. It's simple, your people didn't come from Africa."

"My people sure as hell did come from Africa. Where do you get off being African because you're black? Is George Bush European because he's white? No, he's American, like I'm African and you're American."

She was mad. "You're only African because you people killed all the black people," this makes sense, huh?

"No, I'm African because my passport is Algerian, my family is from Africa and Berbers are African, not Arab," I told her.

"That's not African. That's white."


Enough of snips. Go read the entire scene for yourself. And remember that you are reading the words of a teen! As you read the start of the post you might forget. But when you get to the dialogue, you will know. For me, this kid is a breath of fresh air. He and his peers will save the country with a clear thinking and a spirit of principled truth-telling that will not be silenced.
Posted by Hootsat 7:05 AM 

1 comment:

KNL said...
THanks for the post!

Nouri


TUESDAY, JULY 04, 2006


Algerian Independence Day is July 5

Nouri Lumendifi is the most articulate teen-ager I have found blogging. I continue to be amazed by his maturity, insights and grasp of history. I am not at all surprised at his passion, however. It is the passion of youth which has driven progress from the start of human history and continues to do so now. Those who ignore such passion do so at their peril. I find it inspiring, thrilling.

Today's post is the story of Algerian independence which came in 1962 following an eight-year revolution. Do take a moment to check it out.
The Revolution was a diverse one, claimed by former "assimilationists" fed up with the inability of the colonial system to extend the rights of man to Algerian Muslims, pan-Arab nationalists, socialists, Marxists, communists, Islamists wishing to reinstate the Islamic political order in a Muslim land, Amazigh Berberists wishing to bring equality and prestige to their people, the everyday men and women of Algerian wishing to finally know what equality and opportunity felt like, and many other interest groups. They may have disagreed on the particulars of the Revolution, but all agreed that their aims could not be met under the rule of France, and that the colonial order had to be torn down to achieve the betterment of Algeria and her people.

And yes, it was a jihad, in the best sense of that word. Those who defile the notion with neolgisms such as Islamofascistsand use the word jihad in a pejorative sense only reveal the depth of their own ignorance.

How else to explain how this young man, this all-American kid with deep Algerian roots, can so clearly and openly make political arguments worthy of anyone wanting to advance the case for democracy? The current president of Algeria, like many manipulative leaders, is orchestrating an effort to extend term limits in order to continue past his constitutionally mandated time in office. Nouri finds this scenario reprehensible. The principled voice of youth will not be quiet.
The spirts of 1963 are present in Algeria to this very day, they can be seen everywhere one looks, from border to border in they eyes of Algerians young and old. President Bouteflika should take a lesson from Ferhat Abbas and withdraw his support for this shameful motion. The ramifications of this proposal are too great to ignore. The Algerian democracy is too young and too fragile to allow the egos of powerful men to manipulate the process at such an early stage. Never before has here been such an opportunity for Bouteflika to show his commitment to democracy and the rule of law as this upcoming Independence Day. If he shuns this chance by going ahead with this criminal plan, we will see his truest colors, and they certainly will not be red, green, and white.

On this Fourth of July I celebrate that the voice of freedom, revolution and emancipation from tyranny is alive and well. What better way to mark the significance of this day?

My own Independence Day post was published Saturday.Anyone interested link here.


MONDAY, JULY 31, 2006


Nouri Lumendifi makes my day.

This post by Nouri makes me feel better about the future. If every young person around is as bright, assertive and well-informed as he, any problems my generation leaves will be resolved quickly. It's hard to believe he's still a teen, except that he pours out his feelings all in a rush with little regard for hiding anything. Only young people have that much straightforward honesty.
I say rude things to other Arabs about their governments, or countries I should say, all the time. I tell Moroccans and Jordanians I think that their kings are backward. I told a Moroccan lady that made falafels in New York that I thought King Hassan was an imperialist. She didn't care. "I think he was a dick too. $2.50". When I was in Saudi Arabia I had a conversation with a guy who told he hated life in KSA. "There's nothing to do and we can't even flirt in school", we pretty much agreed the country kind of sucked. I am comfortable talking to Arabs about Arab governments; I don't think anybody honestly believes that "our" [Arab] systems are really all that great. I'm not familiar with Iranians, or "Persians" as some here call themselves. I read Iranian newspapers and websites that seem absolute. Monarchists that don't believe the royal family had anything wrong with it. Nationalistic young people that blame Arabs for anything wrong with the country. They seem touchy. Even arrogant.

This is a fun a read as you will find today. Go have a romp and don't miss this delightful snip:

The current Arab system is like an ugly woman. The Arab system when Iran is the regional superpower will be like an ugly woman on methemphetamines. It is easier to help and ugly woman become beautiful than a drugged out ugly woman.
I love it.
Nouri, you are a ray of sunshine for the future! I wish you were not exceptional, but I think you are.


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And here is the link to what remains of his posts at Mideast Youth. 

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 26, 2006



Been watching this young man most of this year. Apparently he's leaving home to go to college. His reflections make wonderful reading. In my experience teens simply don't think or write like this. Give him another ten or fifteen years and he will be one of the country's most valuable intellectual assets. New Haven, Connecticut has left a mark on Nouri. He may change, but he will never forget. Good luck, Nouri. The world is your banana.

Item: I am kicking a soccer ball down the street, when it hits the wrong side of my foot and hits the window of a pretty blue house. I hear the rattle and the barking of a large dog. The ball stops rolling back to me half way down the lawn. An “ADT” security sign warms me that should I trespass here I will be prosecuted. I panic. The door opens, and a little old man sticks his neck out the door and shouts “Who’s done it!”
I confess, and the old man grows angry. “Whaddaya goin’ to do that for? What’er you doing around here?” Going home, sir. He is dissatisfied, and waddles over to my ball. “This yours, boy?” I am scared, the old man is wearing an undershirt, swimming trunks, a coat of white fir, and loafers; he is rather unsightly. My ball is in his hands now, and I cannot help but as for it back. I am very sorry for hitting his window. “When did you come here?” I haven’t the slight inclination as to what this buzzard is talking about, and I do not answer. He asks again, if I tell him, I am told he will give me my ball back. “I don’t know.”
This bitter looking, wrinkly buzz-cut old man, puts my soccer ball under his hairy arm and turns around, and goes back into his house, slamming the door behind him. He looks at me from the window and closes the curtains, with the look of “Good riddance!” on his pruney face.

***
My city was my making. The city’s greenery, its Mediterranean restaurants covered in New England snow, its poverty, and its seasons are not easily left behind. In Boston, there are millions. In New York there are millions still. In New Haven, there are perhaps a few hundred thousand, if that. There is pizza the world tells you to like and places that claim to have invented the hamburger. There are probably comparable claims made in other cities, but none of those are my city. I did not read Lenin on the steps of the public libraries of Boston; I did not witness white flight in Brooklyn Heights; and I did not have my first date on the real Broadway. I did all of this in New Haven. Loyalties of citizenship, religion, and ethnicity aside, I am from New Haven. Not genetically, but by an accident of geography.
Posted by Hoots at 6:49 AM

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