Scenes from the Souk

The main shopping thoroughfare in Damascus is the venerable souk al-Hamidiyya, named after the Ottoman Sultan Abdul Hamid II and forms one of the main entrances to the medieval Old City of Damascus. Under the corrugated iron roof lie rows of shops selling jewellery, clothes, leather bags, Arabic perfume and embroidery competing for the masses of locals and tourists alike who have come to experience and contribute to what is part of the world’s oldest continually inhabited settlement.

The holes in the roof, lasting imprints of bullets fired from machine guns by French fighter jets during the Syrian nationalist revolt of 1925, create the illusion of a star-studded sky during the day, as rays of light pass through and illuminate the expansive souk, dark and sombre but for the loud chattering of the throng of shoppers. Intermittent electricity cuts are an almost daily phenomenon here, and during such times the whole souk will be abuzz with the drone of electricity generator motors coming from the wealthier shops, while the poorer stalls are left stranded in darkness.

The souk becomes a vantage point from which to observe the variety of people who form a parade of humanity along the winding thoroughfare. Young Syrian women wearing incredibly high heels, headscarves neatly tucked into their leather jackets, their male counterparts in rugged tight jeans and slicked hair; Iranian pilgrims covered rather clumsily in their chadors, middle-aged men constantly flicking their prayer beads, reciting the 99 names of God. Gulf Arab women can easily be identified by their abayas, black free-flowing robes concealing the female form, allowing only for subtle – but sufficiently visible – displays of wealth; the Gucci sunglasses, gold and silver bangles and glittering sequins across their abayas. And then there are the freckled-face, red-haired Arabs, a common enough occurrence in the Levant, the Arab region comprising Syria, Lebanon, Palestine and Jordan, but which still provoke bewilderment to the first-time visitor accustomed to the conventional stereotypes of what an Arab looks like.

A familiar sight throughout the souk, even in the biting cold of winter, are shoppers licking the ubiquitous bouzat haleeb, milk-and-rosewater-scented Arabic ice-cream generously topped with pistachios. There’s the slightest whiff of almond essence, and you’re trying to figure out why the ice-cream is rather gummy. And then you realise it’s not the usual sort of ice-cream, and this is not the usual sort of shopping mall.

Shopping in Syria

Let’s ignore the global financial crisis for a while, and pretend we actually have money. The natural reaction is to go on a shopping frenzy. This makes perfect sense, because despite calls from financial advisers and ethicists to cut down on spending or worse, eliminate conspicuous consumption altogether, it’s hard to deny that shopping makes us happy. What do you do after getting fired or finding yourself unemployed for the last 6 months? Go out and buy something of course, if only to avoid the looming depression.

Dubai has often been promoted as the shopping mecca of the Middle East. I find this is only true if you have the salary of the Hiltons or the Beckhams. For the rest of us who can only afford to fantasize about living the glamorous life, the most we can do is window shop. The truth is, when it comes to shopping in Arabia, you’re better off in Syria. Years of being relegated to international pariah status has meant that it has largely escaped the onslaught of giant shopping malls seen everywhere else in the region. Instead, shoppers throng through medieval bazaars spread across labyrinthine alleyways, studded with discrete nooks and corners for the curious consumer intent on an expedition as much as scoring a bargain.

Getting a bargain in Syria is an art in conversation, requiring polite banter, a little bit of deception and mutual respect between buyer and trader. In one of the embroidery shops we bargained our way through a cup of strong Arabic coffee provided by the hospitable owner. Having been accustomed to stationary SALE! signs in Malaysia and Australia, I was initially reticent at having to be an active participant in our mission to get a discount. After a couple of attempts though, you start to get the hang of it and haggling suddenly becomes a thrilling revelation. The shopping mall experience of getting your desired item and handing it over to the cashier for scanning now seems passive and sterile in comparison. I guess it’s a bit like comparing between hunting for food and buying it from the supermarket – the latter is more convenient but oh what joy it is to do it the old fashioned way and chase after your meal.

Having said that, just when I finally gained enough confidence to try to haggle without the help of my mum, none of the traders would even move to give me a discount! So just a tip for all the guys out there, if you intend to shop, always bring a female companion with you. Unfortunately gender discrimination against men is still a widespread problem in bazaars and flea markets across the world, and for now I can only dream of a day when all men can haggle independently without the help of their womenfolk.

Stupidity and Racism Go Hand in Hand

Melbourne has been witnessing a sickening spate of attacks targeted towards Indian nationals, the latest involving a man who was bashed unconscious while walking home from a train station in St Albans and cars belonging to students torched outside their home in Springvale. The government has been quick to manoeuvre a public relations strategy to control the damage on the lucrative international students’ market, up there among Australia’s biggest export earners besides coal and metals. Australian leaders could have shown more concern by perhaps visiting the injured students at hospital, or having roundtable discussions with student leaders, but no, export revenue comes first and so they spent more time assuring prospective Indian students that Australia is still safe.

The police meanwhile, fending off accusations of indifference towards the attacks, have religiously maintained that the crimes are largely “opportunistic”, rather than racially-motivated. This despite the fact that only Indian students seem to be so consistently robbed and punched and threatened and stabbed over the past month. Thankfully, the Victorian Attorney-General has used the occasion to expedite the creation of hate-crime laws which would cover harassments based on race, religion, gender or sexual orientation. It is quite clear that the legislation is aimed at preventing attacks against any race, so it came as a bit of a surprise when a concerned Don Bruce of Watsonia sent a letter to the The Age (June 4, 2009) claiming that “your hate crime legislation seems to cover everyone except white Anglo-Saxon males, Rob Hulls. Apparently my safety and that of my son is considered to be of less importance”.

The wording of the proposed legislation made public so far goes along the lines of “”hatred for or a prejudice against a particular group of people”; it doesn’t actually highlight any race, so how is it that this legislation would not cover white Anglo-Saxon males? One gets the impression this particular Don Bruce is feeling a bit left out from all the media attention and public sympathy the Indian victims are getting. I could almost hear him cry “Oh poor me and my white Anglo-Saxon heritage! Take pity on me!”

And there has been widespread condemnation of those attacks by Victorian politicians, from both left and right, as well as the general Victorian public. The state has a long and proud history of multiculturalism and while there is an undercurrent of racism in Australian society, it is not unique to the country alone. What is interesting is that a significant portion of criticism hurled towards Indian students – while they are being the target of attacks – come from Indians themselves. They are usually Indian Australians hailing from upper middle class backgrounds who perhaps, through their criticism, wish to reaffirm that they are distinctly different (read: better) than their foreign counterparts. One Rahul Kapadia, from the millionaire’s suburb of Toorak, wrote in (June 7, 2009) to blame Indian students for the attacks, due to “their loud talking habits, lack of etiquette and lack of courtesy to fellow passengers, coupled with loudly playing iPods and shoving themselves into trains and trams in a “me first” attempt”.

I don’t know how much of it is true and how much is simply his own distorted stereotype of Indian nationals, but that can hardly justify the senseless bashings and stabbings being committed against them. The rude behaviour that Rahul lists could easily be ascribed to anyone in Australia, not just Indians. He further declares that “when such students, who also flaunt their wealth by wearing gold chains around their necks, decide to walk from desolate stations at odd hours in the early morning, hoodlums would attack such people regardless of whether they are Indian or not”. That’s not true. The closest thing to bling I see Indians sport are religious gold chains; they’re not flaunting their wealth, they’re affirming their faith. And no, they are not choosing to walk from desolate outer suburb train stations at odd hours in the early morning, they are forced to because that’s the only work shifts they can afford to do without clashing with their classes. But I wouldn’t expect Rahul from Toorak to understand the circumstances faced by people living without the luxury of private automobiles and an inner-city address.

Have Book, Will Read

I was mindlessly browsing through the website of the French daily Le Figaro looking for random articles to read/translate, when I chanced upon a feature article on a photo exhibition by Turkish photographer Ahmet Ertug on the most beautiful libraries in the Western world. The photos above are part of his collection entitled Temples of Knowledge, currently being displayed at the Bibliothèque nationale de France.

Admiring the photos I tried to imagine being transported to one of the libraries, standing alone in the centre of the room, walking silently on the gleaming marble tiles, surrounded by row upon row of book shelves supported by sculptured pillars, and looking up to see not a sky but dramatic Baroque paintings, all of this a testament to the collective knowledge acquired throughout the ages. How overwhelming! Such overt displays of ingenuity would doubtless make one feel inadequate, but it also stokes the hunger to seek and learn the secrets of civilization contained in the ancient books, its pages worn by time but the knowledge within still intact.

As a kid I preferred books over toys. Whilst my brother would go hysterical at Toys R Us, I would walk along the aisles of action figures, miniature fighter jets and Lego kits and be left clueless as to what is it that I’m supposed to do with them. Books on the other hand, allowed me to discover the world and learn things I never dreamt of. Literacy remains my most treasured possession.

Whenever I get overwhelmed by the mere sight of row upon row of books, the excitement of all the knowledge that would be delivered to me if I only had the time and wherewithal to read them all, I inevitably recall the first verses of the Koran that were revealed to the illiterate Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, by God through archangel Gabriel:

Read! In the Name of your Lord Who created
He has created man from a clot
Read! And your Lord is the Most Generous
Who has taught by the pen
He has taught man that which he knew not

Surah Al-Alaq (The Clot), verses 1 to 5
96:1-5

How Do You Spell Race?

In the run-up to the European Parliament elections on June 4, there has been concern over the potential rise of far-right parties which have been gaining foothold in European countries. In cash-strapped UK, the whites-only, anti-immigration British National Party has been channelling public anger over Labour’s mismanagement of the country’s economy towards its hope of securing seats to the European Parliament. This is a party whose constitution declares to “stand for the preservation of the national and ethnic character of the British people and is wholly opposed to any form of racial integration between British and non-European peoples. It is therefore committed to stemming and reversing the tide of non-white immigration and to restoring, by legal changes, negotiation and consent, the overwhelmingly white makeup of the British population that existed in Britain prior to 1948″. In plain terms, if it was given the power, it would drive out all those people unfortunate enough to be born with colour from Britain. “Legal changes, negotiation and consent” really mean, by hook or by crook.

Even in Switzerland, a country typically associated with measured, rational thought, the ultranationalist Swiss People’s Party has emerged to become the country’s most popular party, keen to rid the nation of its pesky immigrants, imaginatively portrayed in a campaign poster as a black sheep being kicked off the Swiss flag by a white sheep. There seems to be an overwhelming desire to recreate the comforting, picturesque vision of rose-cheeked Swiss farmers milking cows on lush alpine mountains like the covers of Swiss chocolate wrappers. The message to foreigners seems to be, by all means, munch on our delightful milk chocolate, but stay away from our land.

But Belgium takes the cake for the abject pettiness of its squabbling citizens who intend to split the country into two after failing to resolve linguistic differences between Dutch and French speaking Belgians. Decades of feuding between the two tribes over the cultural and linguistic superiority of each other has reached melting point, with Dutch-speaking mayors boycotting the European elections and the Francophones mocking their neighbours with shouts of “Comprends Pas!” (Don’t Understand!)

We Malaysians, with our almost infinite array of racial profiles after generations of inter-marriages, may be less paranoid than the Europeans but we are not immune to the kind of prejudice and hatred that accompany racial bigotry. We have seen over the past couple of years, a breakdown in race relations, particularly between Malays and the Chinese and Indian communities over the long-standing preferential socioeconomic policy which most Malays still see as being vital to their progress but which non Malays perceive as being discriminatory.

The government didn’t help matters by refusing to address the concerns of the people, Malay, Chinese or Indian, choosing instead to stoke anger and anxiety among Malay constituents and giving mixed signals to non-Malays, in a political manoeuvre that is reminiscent of the ‘divide and conquer’ strategy employed by British colonialists.

Thankfully our mighty oil corporation Petronas is here to save the day. In the absence of any significant cultural entity to serve as a mirror to our society, Petronas has assumed the mantle of Unofficial Cultural Agency, besides being the country’s chief money-making machine. During special holidays – Aidilfitri, Chinese New Year, Merdeka – Petronas would commission TV ads that are less public service announcements than award winning short films. This Merdeka Day ad features two primary school friends being interviewed, presumably to assess their potential as spelling bee participants. Against a backdrop of a typical school canteen, the ad brings back memories of growing up in a country blessed with people of so many different shades, colour and character. What makes Malaysia so special is the wealth of cultural heritage which we have accrued over the centuries, making us accustomed to people of different backgrounds while some Europeans are still coming to terms with the idea that a brown person can marry a white person and live happily ever after. Racial diversity is the basis of our national character and collective identity. Take that away and we end up being a poorer version of one of those racially paranoid European countries.

Malaysian Gets Costly Lesson on Proper Wages

Malaysia’s The Star daily today featured a report on a restaurant owner who has been fined by the Melbourne Magistrate’s court for underpaying his employees. Hong Poh Meng, owner of Penang Kayu Nasi Kandar Ltd which operates a restaurant here, Kayu@Boxhill, was fined A$180,000 for breaching 11 Australian work place laws. These include paying a chef brought over from Malaysia less than A$10,000 over 18 months, which amounts to a staggering underpayment of A$76,000 or less than 12% of the minimum amount the man was entitled to. In addition, two 19-year-old casual waitresses were underpaid A$4876 and A$899.

Among the Malaysian international student community here there is widespread perception that Asian employers, including Malaysians, will generally underpay their workers, and the working conditions will not be as hospitable as would be expected in businesses run by Australians. However, for many students they have little choice but to endure those conditions because 1) they need the money; 2) many restaurants in the Melbourne CBD are run by Asian employers; 3) the students are not able to meet the language expectations of Australian proprietors.

I was fortunate enough to work for an Australian food business during my student days that paid above the minimum rate and provided excellent working conditions for its staff. My experience should not be the exception, rather the standard for the food service industry in a country as prosperous as Australia. Hopefully this court outcome will serve as a reminder to other businesses to treat their employees with the respect they deserve.

Malaysia Deploys Taxpayer-funded Thuggery

IPOH – Malaysia today deployed its first official batch of taxpayer-funded thugs, previously known as the Royal Malaysian Police, in its effort to weed out dangerous criminals, previously known as opposition politicians. Dozens of protesters, including elected representatives and the speaker of the state legislature were forcibly removed and detained by plainclothes thugs wearing fluorescent yellow ‘Police’ vests as they tried to maintain their presence at the inaugural session of the state assembly.

The arrested politicians, from the People’s Pact coalition, were ousted from the Perak state government through a defection of three of its members to the Barisan National coalition, which holds power in the Federal Parliament. The move is widely believed to be orchestrated by the newly appointed Prime Minister Najib Razak, widely despised and pitied alike for his perceived corrupt practices and slavish obedience to his allegedly power hungry consort, Rosmah Mansor.

The use of the police force as personal security agents of the Barisan Nasional, in this case to forcibly remove elected opposition members from the state legislature, marks a new low in the political crisis that has engulfed Malaysia. The nation is still reeling from the sensational murder case of a politically-connected Mongolian woman who was murdered by police officers from the Special Task Force. Malaysians, already weary from attacks by gangsters and petty thieves in crime infested Malaysia, fear they may now be vulnerable to state-sanctioned thuggery, committed by those assigned to protect them in the first place.

Courtesy of Takdanama, the unofficial news agency of Malaysia

Photos taken without permission from Malaysiakini

Posted in "News" | Tagged: rosmah mansor, Najib Razak, Perak, Perak political crisis, Pakatan Rakyat Perak, BN Perak, Sivakumar, crime in Malaysia | Leave a Comment »

Celebrating Water (What’s Left of It) in Melbourne

Posted by kampunghouse on March 22, 2009

March marks the end of what has been an extremely hot summer in Melbourne, and the city traditionally farewells the scorching season with a festival celebrating water, called the Moomba Festival. It’s quite different from conventional notions of ‘celebration’ where tonnes of the stuff would be carelessly used in lush abundance, such as the tomato-throwing parade in Spain. No, with a water storage level hovering at a mere 30%, the Moomba festival has taken on more serious themes like water conservation and the importance of using less and less.

Rain is such a rarity in Melbourne that everytime there’s a downpour, it’ll be on the 6 o’clock news headlines. “Melbourne awash with rain”, “Welcome shower for drought-stricken Melburnians” blurts out the newscasters with undisguised tones of joy. Because there’s not much you can do with water that’s not there, the water activities in the Moomba festival is mainly limited to water skiing type shows on the river Yarra that snakes through the city. The other drawcards are mostly wholesome family fun activities such as fun fairs, rides and a parade along the city’s main thoroughfare which is more community-minded than spectacular.

This year in an effort to make the festival more appealing to the younger crowds, a concert was held showcasing, we are led to believe, Australia’s hottest acts. I guess I blame myself for being naïve enough into thinking that a free concert could be any good. Having said that, many in the crowd appear to genuinely enjoy themselves, so it could be either they’re drunk or it just wasn’t my kind of music.

In early February a large slice of Victoria was ravaged by bushfires on a day where the mercury reached 45.6°C. It was a horrible day in the city where the strong winds made you feel like a giant hairdryer was being used to blow the Earth. I can’t imagine how it must’ve felt for the communities that were affected by the fierce fires. Many lives were lost and towns and houses completely ruined.

A huge concert was organised a few weeks later to build up funds for the fire relief effort. The photo above shows the weather on that day. How ironic that it ended up being the wettest day of the year so far. Weather-wise, Victoria is a most baffling place.

Melbourne has this lingering image as a wet, rainy city. This reputation is actually undeserved considering it now receives less rainfall than cities like Brisbane or Sydney which has often been seen as the sunny cities of Australia. I suspect the culprits behind this fraud are Melburnians themselves, who wish to cling on to Melbourne’s image as the most European of Australia’s cities by evoking memories of dark grey clouds and suited up city workers sheltering under uniform black umbrellas. In any case, it was a relief to experience some dark comforting gloominess once in a while. The bright blue sky and sunkissed earth thing was starting to bring me down.

Posted in Melbourne | Tagged: Black Saturday, bushfires, Melbourne, Moomba festival, Victoria | Leave a Comment »

Damascus for Munchers

Posted by kampunghouse on March 18, 2009

The Old City of Damascus is essentially a tangled network of alleyways criss-crossing and snaking through buildings patched up and conjured through centuries of trade and human settlement. This medieval city feels more like a village that has completely outgrown itself, with no planning or consideration for later, modern inventions such as the private automobile. This makes it the perfect city for the wandering pedestrian, with no cars in sight and all those narrow cobblestone alleyways to get lost in.

The authorities have done a rather remarkable feat naming and putting street signs for the myriad lanes that sew the entire city together, although the sheer number of lanes jutting out from the main thoroughfares renders the effort a token gesture at best, and a lost cause at worst. My Lonely Planet guidebook, in the interest of being thorough, provides a map of the Old City but is smart enough to advise visitors to disregard it, and instead walk straight in and lose yourself amidst the chaos. You’ll eventually find a way out.

The great thing about all that walking is that it works up an appetite, and Syria is a great place for the frugal visitor to hear his stomach grumble. Food is extremely cheap and Syrian food, like most Mediterranean cuisine, is not as confronting as say, the more exotic fare of the East.

It’s hard to pass off a helping of shwarma, the Arabic equivalent to the Turkish kebab, with the addition of gherkins and mayo. However, a full meal will slow my walk and discourage me from further munching, and that’s not cool. No, what I want is something leaning towards a snack, and thankfully there are plenty of stalls specialising in munchies. Most of them can be found in the left alleyway jutting out from the main thoroughfare of Souk al-Hamidiyya, just before the Roman colonnades that form the entrance to the Grand Umayyad Mosque. Here, among shops selling Qurans and touristy keychains and decorative glass beads are stalls selling pies with olive paste stuffing, meat and cheese, as well as the tasty lahmacun, a sort of pizza dish where spicy minced lamb is spread onto a thin dough and sprinkled with a squirt of lemon juice and chili powder.

There are also hole in the wall bakeries scattered throughout the Old City, selling buns which have the most wonderful texture – a delicately crunchy exterior that gives way to a soft centre. There is a croissant whose similarity with the well-known French is only in shape; the Syrian version is more bread than pastry, not at all flaky but much more filling, less decadent, more peasant. Complex carbohydrates are nice, but there’s nothing like a quick hit of sugar to get you going, so I often treated myself to a date bun, a long knotted bread filled with date paste, which is similar to the red bean paste of Asia in both colour and in the subtle flirting between sweet and savoury. The bun is shaped like a Bueno kinder bar, where you can tear off a piece to eat individually, although the expectation of course is to finish the whole thing eventually.

We always ended up buying lots of bread and sesame-topped buns from the bakery, and the breadman (is that what they’re called?), in true Syrian hospitality would offer complimentary pieces of pineapple jam tarts which simply…crumble in your mouth. I was instantly hooked. Is this true Syrian hospitality or a clever marketing ploy? I wasn’t sure.

Note: For a taste of the lahmacun and Arabic-style pies, head over to A1 bakery on Sydney Road Brunswick, where they’re crisped up to order in the traditional oven.

Posted in Food, Syria | Tagged: AI Bakery, Brunswick, bueno kinder, Damascus Old City, lahmacun, Lonely Planet, Melbourne, shwarma, Sydney Road, Syria | Leave a Comment »

The Sweet Toothed Guide to Damascus

Posted by kampunghouse on March 15, 2009

The Middle East’s greatest contribution to the culinary world and global happiness is arguably the baklava, along with its many wonderful variations. These tiny morsels of pleasure, made up of a dense, nutty centre surrounded by flaky phyllo pastry drenched in fragrant syrup, works as a pretty good antidote to ward off afternoon fatigue. Just as your body feels sapped of energy along comes this wonderdrug disguised as food to get you up and going again. I often use it to fight off depression because I very strongly feel that relying on anti-depressant tablets to cure sadness is a bit radical, and I’m a rather moderate person by nature.

Damascus is dotted with shops displaying row upon row of baklava, stacked onto each other to form a sort of pyramid to entice the passing pedestrian. I almost always fail to resist the temptation. The best thing about baklava is that they come in small, manageable pieces, which allows you to sample 3 or 4 or 7 at a time, lending the illusion of excessive consumption when in fact you haven’t eaten that much at all. Contrast this with one of those jumbo cakes in the glass displays of Italian restaurants on Melbourne’s Lygon Street that leaves you totally ashamed of your gluttony once you’ve wiped the last remaining whipped cream off your face.

Another popular destination for the sweet toothed is the venerable Bakdash, an ice-cream parlour with décor stuck in the 70s which has become something of a Damascene institution, and a must-stop for tourists ever since it was included in the Lonely Planet to-do list.

This is one place where you won’t be spoiled for choice because the sole drawcard is the milk-and-rosewater flavoured Arabic ice cream known as bouzat haleeb. It has a distinctly gummy texture, primarily due to the use of mastic gum, an aromatic resin commonly used in the Middle East. For 25 Syrian pounds (1 USD = 48 SYP) you get the equivalent of about 3 overly-generous scoops of Bakdash’s famous ice cream coated in pistachios and redolent of the exotic delights of Syria.

Note: If you’re in Melbourne and curious for a taste of bouzat haleeb, Balha’s dessert shop on Sydney Road Brunswick has a passable version, although the texture is not as gummy and the serving size considerably smaller.

Posted in Food, Syria | Tagged: Arabic ice cream, Bakdash, baklava, bouzat haleeb, Damascus, Syria | 1 Comment »

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