I've had a lot of random thoughts swimming in my cranium recently so I'm just going to spit them out:In trying to understand the process of "development" in Oman, look to the roads. Main thoroughfares are smoothly paved. Major side streets are constructed and more or less driveable. Parking lots and side-side-streets, particularly outside Muscat, are avenues of stones and strewn glass. First phase development, secondary changes, lack of tertiary reform.
A friend recently told me that many more cases of AIDS exist in Oman than the government is willing to let on, not wanting to tarnish its rep. Odd timing. Dealing with tough issues transparently? I remain skeptically hopeful.
America: Snow days, Oman: Rain days. Schools have been off for the past two or three days because of "unstable weather" in the capitol. I find it funny that the term غير مستقر or "unstable" has been consistently applied to this weather. Contextually, it accurately describes the meteorological happenings, but being from the US's east coast, anything that isn't labeled Nor'Easter doesn't seem to command the respectable term "unstable." I guess I should give a country whose weather forecast repeats"clear skies, hot, and humid" everyday a little more credit.
There is one, Omani, youth activist in Copenhagen during the climate proceedings. I think one of his fellow Arab activists there summed it up best: "Activism in the Arab world is very low,' Tayara, who manages an eco-village outside Beirut says. 'While some Arabs are active, when it comes to defying politics, defying power, the leaders - it's totally out of the question for many Arabs.'" Yay for our Omani in Denmark! He doesn't seem to be too radical (refusing for instance to wear a shirt proclaiming 'Arabs Against Oil') but I'm quite interested in catching up with him upon his return.
Omani's use the word 3esh عيش (I think it's spelled, I've only heard it because it's colloquial) for rice, whereas Egyptians use the same word for bread. Rice and bread opposing meal centerpieces. The arabic word 3esh formally comes from the root that describes living. Rice = life for Omanis. Bread = life for Egyptians.
This morning I was reading about Shell's sigh of relief in being invited to develop Iraq's gigantor oil field, named 'Majnoon'. Yeah, yeah, politically and economically significant. My dramatic observation: how the heck did they decide on the name Majnoon?! Majnoon = crazy in Arabic. Initial conjecture: Perhaps in honor of the up-and-coming government figure Saddam Hussein when the field was discovered? Veneration for the desperate fate of Majnun of "Majnun and Layla" (Arabic dramatic love turned tragedy turned poetry, artistically envisioned to the right)? Apparently the etymology of oil fields is not a strong discipline (the esoteric PhD topic I have been looking for perhaps!). The only mention I found of the naming of the resevoir gives a much more plausible explanation: they called it Majnoon because there was a crazyyy abundance of oil there. Let down. That will suffice for now. Adequate posts on littering, expatriate workers, and marriage in Oman coming after my holiday break which will be spent baking pies, drinking real Dunkin' Donuts coffee to avoid climate shock, and visiting B&N.
Extreme food for thought in the ensuing two weeks of blog inactivity:
How are problems best solved? Do solutions evolve from internal impetus for change or is the onus on developed countries to send human resources to less developed countries to spark change (we can use women's rights as an example)? Can you rely on the second without the first? Is this simply a statist reduction of reality?
Should one's goal in life be to develop and reform one's homeland? Is it wrong to specialize in another continent? How can we reconcile learning new languages, imbibing a new culture, studying foreign history and various religions which can consume years and years and is never a complete process, when what we know best--what we were born into--has so many problems as well?
What is the tangible result of cross-cultural learning experiences or a "regional expertise"? If you just write in life, is that enough? If no one "in power" listens to you, is writing still enough? If we learn about other cultures to understand that we are all human but have lived different styles of life, how does this realization practically influence the world?
Just a few of the questions I regularly grapple with as a political scientist student concentrating on the Middle East and Arabic, living in various Arab states, realizing I'll probably end up an academic. These are in no way new questions, but I constantly hear arguments for and against various responses. Comments demanded!
