Contemplation

I spent the greatest night in Bahrain, so far, last Friday at the Jazz Night event organized by Elham. I had tried to practice playing a few numbers, but unfortunately I’ve not managed to play anything reasonably well enough. I guess I’ve always been too hard on my playing, however, this changed after having attended these jazz sessions.

I’m faced with a great difficulty now. I already find it hard translating my thoughts into words, and to attempt translating music into words is well beyond my ability. Let alone jazz music. Let alone great jazz music. So, I will be selfish and won’t share the eventful night, and instead, I will share my thoughts about how it transformed me.

At the end of it, everybody had already left, and the event host was already cleaning up. I stuck around for a while, along with a young and brilliantly pleasant piano player whom I had the opportunity to be a fan of (even for only one night). He was at the corner of the main hall, lightly stroking the keys. Slowly walking towards him, not wanting to distract him from playing, he noticed me and invited me to play something with him.

Now, the first and only time I’ve touched a piano was a few years back, at university, sitting next to someone I dearly admire. She taught me a few chords. This time was my second. The young pianist slid to the side, inviting me to sit down and play “what I felt sounded right”. I told him that I wouldn’t know what to play. He showed me a secret chord and told me to “have at it” and play whatever keys within the scale.

And that was the best I’ve played on a piano in my life, so far at least.

I woke up the next morning, scatting while I got out of bed, skipping down the stairs in alternating intervals, and finally running a tea spoon on differently sized tea cups while making breakfast. I was humming throughout the day. Today, I’m going to get my own music keyboard. I’m swapping the rock and pop CDs with jazz and blues ones. And, like jazz, I won’t be too hard on myself. Like jazz, I’m going to be colorful. Like jazz, I’m going to be quite unpredictable.

Finally, I would like to thank the host for delivering one of the greatest nights I ever had.

On November’s bloggers gathering, a fellow blogger suggested campaigning for a blood donation rally. Obviously, we would all think that it would one of the most humane things to do; saving lives. Right?

Not very much so, well, not by everyone at least. This story reports a healthy young Jehovah’s witness, 22 years of age, gave birth to twins (a healthy boy and a healthy girl), however, she did not make it outside the operating room. It is said that she died as a result of refusing a blood transfusion. This is believed to be due to her faith (read possible explanation).

I heard a debate on the BBC (radio) world service a couple of days ago, and I was left with many ethical dilemmas.

The Jehovah’s witness reason the refusal of blood transfusion on the basis of biblical texts which mainly portray the sacredness of blood to the creator and therefore one should abstain from blood.

Such cases lead to prolonged discussions - heated, emotionally grounded, discussion - about grand theological questions of life and death, about sin and atonement, about freewill and freedom of being. I will leave such discussions to be initiated by those who are further interested (you can comment, or you can buy me coffee).

However, I will leave you with one to tickle your magnificent matter (that is your brain, by the way).

The woman, in the reported story, decided to practically take her own life. This brings the issue of one’s ownership over his or her own life. Suicide is religiously considered a sin and socially frowned upon. Also, giving informed consent (in general) is a preserved right.

If we have ownership over our lives, then suicide should not be problematic at all, and we are fully rightful to give consent (to anything). Here we are shunned by societal beliefs.

If we do not have ownership over our lives, then we are not fully rightful to give consent. However, suicide and euthanasia can be dealt with.Here we are shunned by theological beliefs.

The topic has always been a daunting one to my mind, due to the lack thereof. However, it has come up at the last bloggers meeting that I’ve attended. And, upon my return home, a few thoughts came to mind, and it only tempted me to revisit this topic once again.

“What does it mean, for you, to have a national identity?” I asked, some didn’t hear it, some kept quite, some seemed to be thinking about it, and one person honestly said that they can’t possibly find an answer to that question. I realized that I stroked an open wound, and perhaps I write now to make up for it.

Without being too academic or pedantic about the topic, I’d say that, generally, the concept of identity is an evolving on. Locally, for (a simplistic view and) example, the Bahraini people (surely) have a uniquely individual identity, an another one that encompasses a larger group (be it professional, geographic, sectarian, and so..), and a grand national Bahraini one.

I’ve also come to realize that the smaller scope sets of identity do not necessarily, if at all, add up to the wider ones, at least on a personal level. I believe, regrettably, that that is exactly why the whole nation does not feel like “one” nation. Day in, day out, we are left disjointed; floating around to freely subscribe to a floating identity that only seems to be a shared one. It is never so, though.

Not only in Bahrain, but the result of this discontinuity in what ought to be a cumulative identity is having sub-group identities being more salient (on-line, if you like) than that of the more grand (national) identity. No wonder, then, that one is unable to define what it means to be Bahraini.

I may have rubbed off some pessimism off someone, but it only seems to me that the only things that we, as a nation, share in common are life-long debt, laziness, hopelessness, and the undying thirst for Vimto in Ramadhan.

Is it not about time that we did something about our environment? Although Bahrain has a couple of organizations that are concerned with the environment, one finds the local majority completely ignorant about issues like energy conservation, recycling, global warming and climate change.

Perhaps I would be criticized for claiming the ignorance of the majority here, and so I shall take up the challenge and bet the majority to prove me wrong on this one, for I’d be glad to lose this time.

The facts do remain though. Many people still litter, and many others leave their lights on unnecessarily, think that stand-by modes are energy efficient, crank up air conditioning to freezing levels, and cannot properly spell the word “recycle” (or any positively associated word with the prefix “re-”).

During the previous bloggers meeting, and thanks to a wiseman and a star, we had achieved the “blogger’s prophecy” (which requires the common presence of three or more bloggers at any one time and place) and an epiphany was bestowed upon us.

It was to do something “cool”; to become (following eMoodian fractionalogy) half blogger, half prophet, and half tree-hugger.

Prophecies don’t lie, and thus I found myself googling environmentalism and stumbled upon my inescapable destiny. I clicked-through to GlobalCool.Org. There, I came across one of my eternal loves, whom I fell even more in love with her after reading her following quote:

“Stop completely twatting your planet, because we haven’t got anywhere else to live.“

And so, my environmentalism mini-season begins.