/DR

It was on a Friday afternoon of a warm and sunny Parisian autumn. I was sitting at the terrace of a Moroccan restaurant in a busy street of Clichy sipping some mint tea while listening to an interviewee. I was the interviewer but the young man had so much to share about his experience of France as a Moroccan Muslim that I barely needed to interact.

I was tired, exhausted even. I was just finishing one of the busiest and most interesting weeks in a long while; running across the city, interviewing brothers and sisters and (re)discovering Paris in a way that I was enjoying. In a small week the buzz of the city was now starting to make sense, a sense filled with a human dimension that I would not have suspected. After months of reading books I was finally doing fieldwork, I was in the reality of human lives. And, in the reality of the French capital that despite my numerous visits had never showed herself in such an intimate way.

While the brother was sharing, I was enjoying the passers-by, men, women, families, pure reflection of the real and vibrant diversity of the street. It was a popular neighbourhood, many men were having coffees and loud conversations all around, and street noises were often really loud too. Yet, the young brother facing me was undaunted by his surroundings.

In the middle of the crowd and buzz there I saw this young girl probably 8 years old, riding a scooter at the speed of light, slicing through the air. She was wearing the Muslim headscarf that we all know so well. She appeared to me as defiant, free and strong. The scene put a wide amused smile on my face.

I did not know anything about her, but she touched me. Her cheekiness was written all over her, the movement and momentum she produced was unmatchable.

Few minutes after, I saw her coming again from the opposite side. I barely had the time to notice the bag full of “baguettes” that was hanging from the handlebar. I smiled again and pondered… That was it! The next generation was in motion, impersonating the diversity, the multicultural nation I would love to see grow everywhere in France. The fast girl pushing her way through the male dominated crowd, the bread, the scooter, the headscarf all wrapped together to testify of the force and magic of an assumed plural identity.

I wished I had taped that on film, I wish I could look at the beauty of the action in slow motion, then normal speed again, then slow motion again.

Mariana Dussin is a PhD candidate at Swansea University (Wales), working on Muslim identity in France and the UK

/ DR

Several years ago, when I was doing some research on bin Laden, I learned he was suffering from progressive kidney failure. Since he was obviously being selected by the American propaganda machine to be a symbol similar to that of a Tojo or Hitler during WWII, I wanted to know more about the real bin Laden, as opposed to the propaganda construct.

I soon learned that his renal problems went back to the days when he was working for the CIA in the Afghan war against the Soviet occupation. I learned via secondhand reports that the CIA had been transporting him to an American hospital in Dubai for dialysis and other medical treatments.

After the Soviets were driven out of Afghanistan, the activities of bin Laden became less open. He was involved in financing a training camp for insurgents in Afghanistan, and his hatred of American imperialism became a known feature of his ideological constructs. He especially wanted the US military out his native land of Saudi Arabia, certainly a reasonable wish. As best I can tell, he and the CIA nonetheless still maintained a close relationship because they both benefited from the relationship and appreciated each other’s roles in liberating Afghanistan.

The long history of the CIA of being in bed with the American Mafia indicates a highly pragmatic approach in its choice of working liaisons. Since day one the CIA has always been practical about its allies. The CIA was founded with a small group of former OSS members and something like 5,000 global Nazi spies. It is perfectly believable that the CIA had found the relationship with bin Laden to be valuable and highly prized.

Bin Laden’s ongoing kidney failure was becoming a serious problem back at the time of 9/11, and he reportedly bought two dialysis machines in Dubai and moved one to his camp in Afghanistan and the other to an unknown location. His days were undoubtedly numbered at this point in time. Even though he was on a makeshift program of dialysis, his time was shrinking. A failure of one’s kidney functions is, after all, a death sentence, and dialysis only extends the victim’s life.

That, of course, is no small thing. Some patients have extended their lives as long as ten years with dialysis, and recently, in experimental trials with CoQ10, 50% of patients regained their kidney functions and were able to completely come off dialysis. (Of course, only time will tell if the change is permanent.) Bin Laden missed out on this potentially lifesaving treatment.

A person such as bin Laden, who was constantly in movement and was hauling around his own dialysis machines along with generators and fuel for the generators is a person doomed to die fairly soon. It is therefore not surprising that bin Laden died of kidney failure not long after 9/11.

You might find it interesting that bin Laden spent the last months of his life in an American hospital in Dubai. At one time, one could find posted Net testimonies by various people who had visited him in the hospital during the last months of his life. I only know of one site that has survived an apparent purging by the powers that be and is still providing the truth about bin Laden’s final days, his death, and his burial. It includes an Egyptian obituary plus leads to sundry other related articles. (I append the Egyptian obituary and the site URL.)

Keep in mind, that some officials within the CIA were quite fond of bin Laden and felt that the US owed him a great debt of gratitude for his important role in ousting the Russians from Afghanistan; so it is no grand surprise that the CIA made a real effort to make the last months and weeks of his life as comfortable as possible.

A long time ago, I sent my subscribers his obituary as it appeared in a major Egyptian newspaper. Mind you, bin Laden obituaries appeared all over the Middle East. Among the leaders of state, General Musharraf of Pakistan publicly announced bin Laden’s death, a statement that has since disappeared from the Net and which Musharraf no longer acknowledges. He now plays along with the US claim that bin Laden is hiding somewhere on the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan.

I have read three different obituaries from Arabic papers. (In each case, the Arabic versions were printed next to English translations.) These seem to have disappeared from the Net with one exception, an item I hereby enclose. The facts are simple. He was buried in a secret, unmarked grave with a simple ceremony and about three dozen supporters in attendance.

The blogosphere has been glorified as our last sanctum of truth about the war in Iraq. This is sometimes overblown. It has, for example, never vigorously disseminated the facts about bin Laden’s illness and his death way back on December 16, 2002. You’d think that by now bloggers and progressive websites would have energetically publicized the facts about bin Laden’s death c. five years ago. Instead the PNAC cabal (‘peenack’) has been allowed to endlessly milk the image of a bin Laden poised to send his minions into America with all sorts of deadly weapons.

I recently sent an email to Citizens for Legitimate Government complaining that in their otherwise excellent daily newsletters they were fortifying government lies and propaganda about bin Laden by using language that presupposes he is still alive. I received an answer that would only concede that bin Laden ‘may be dead’. CLG is still using language that presupposes a living bin Laden, and they are hardly alone in doing so.

There is one last website that offers true information about bin Laden’s death plus leads to related sites and information.

To wit: http://www.welfarestate.com/binladen/funeral/————-

Translation of Funeral Article in Egyptian Paper: al-Wafd, Wednesday, December 26, 2001 Vol 15 No 4633

News of Bin Laden’s Death and Funeral 10 days ago

Islamabad -

A prominent official in the Afghan Taleban movement announced yesterday the death of Osama bin Laden, the chief of al-Qa’da organization, stating that binLaden suffered serious complications in the lungs and died a natural and quiet death. The official, who asked to remain anonymous, stated to The Observer of Pakistan that he had himself attended the funeral of bin Laden and saw his face prior to burial in Tora Bora 10 days ago. He mentioned that 30 of al-Qa’da fighters attended the burial as well as members of his family and some friends from the Taleban. In the farewell ceremony to his final rest guns were fired in the air. The official stated that it is difficult to pinpoint the burial location of bin Laden because according to the Wahhabi tradition no mark is left by the grave. He stressed that it is unlikely that the American forces would ever uncover any traces of bin Laden.

-###-

October 25, 2007 Mr. Franklin is the author of « The Mythology of Self-Worth »

Taken from:

http://www.thepeoplesvoice.org/cgi-bin/blogs/voices.php/2007/10/25/damn_it_bin_laden_died_five_years_ago

/DR

This man is silly. His game of chance however sometimes looks like the policy led by the French government:

(Vidéo : Regardez cette vidéo sur la page des articles)

 DR

Even though I never got used to French traditional food at home, I have always loved French food in general, I used to eat things like baguettes, croissants and other typical western food found in restaurants. The French are well known for their delicious and rich cuisine, and they put a high priority on the enjoyment of food.  In that sense, I must admit, I feel French.

At home, my mother has always been cooking both Western and Kabyle traditional food.

The most famous dish in the Kabyle and  North African culture is unmistakably “couscous”,  and it is becoming increasingly popular in France.

 However, there are many different types of couscous depending on the region where it comes from. Moroccans include saffron , Algerians like to add tomatoes, Tunisians   spice up theirs with  harissa and Kabyles add green beans.

 Among the other specialties from the Kabyle culture, there is also the special bread, « Aghroum” which is flat and crunchy. We can have it with “Felfel” for example (not to be confounded with “Falafel”), It is a simple dish made of cooked and crushed pepper mixed up with olive oil.

  DR/  Kabyle bread, « Aghroum »

 It is this mixture of flavour that finally made of me a real foodie[1] person.

 When, in 2009, I moved to England for 8 months, the change of environment also meant I had to forget both the dishes of my Mum and the French gastronomy.     

The thing that first caught my eye was the quantity of take away shops one could find lined up in the streets of the city where I lived. The same dishes would also be displayed in all the fast food restaurants:  “Burgers, Parmesans, Pizzas and Kebabs”.

Junk food was apparently king in this part of Britain, no wonder if the obesity rate in the North East is the highest in the country. In this region, the most popular dish is called the “Parmo” which is a shortcut for Parmesan. It’s a much loved dish made of chicken or pork « fillet » with « béchamel » sauce and a layer of cheese (strangely not parmesan), normally served with chips and a choice of salad: coleslaw or creamed cabbage.

  DR/ Chicken Parmo, also served in restaurants 

Unfortunately, I did not have many opportunities to discover good homemade British food, except for the famous Fish and Chips that I ate in Whitby, a lovely fishing port of the North East coast. Apart from their Sunday dinner and a filling breakfast, I have not experienced the richness of the British culture in terms of food…Far from sharing Jacque Chirac’s opinion who, joking five years ago with Russian leaders, said about Britons: « One cannot trust people whose cuisine is so bad”. From my experience, I have noticed that unlike what is the case in France, in Britain, eating has not much to do with any form of ceremony. 

However, England  remains a multicultural society, and the multicultural aspect of this country is also reflected in the various dishes offered by the migrants who have come to settle there. The dishes of the newcomers are also part of a certain British heritage.Chicken tikka masala, for example, is so popular that it has even been proclaimed as  British national dish.

  DR/ Chicken tikka masala

      (Could you imagine “couscous” being recognized as a “French national dish”?)

Indeed, the best moments I had were when I was discovering new dishes from other parts of the world thanks to my friends who like me were foreigners. I had the opportunity to taste « jollof rice » from Nigeria, chicken rice and « dahl » from Pakistan, « noodles and moon cakes » from China, « tortillas de patatas », « mojete and patatas Alioli » from Spain, « Polish pickles », « Malaysian coconut chicken » and the best green tea ever made by my dearest Pakistanni pachtoune friends.…

Back in France, I was happy to find again my favourite baguette and my mother’s dishes but I also came back with a heavy heart. To my big surprise, shortly after my arrival, I already missed all the exotic flavours I had discovered during my stay in Britain.  My mind was still full of very nice memories about my eating time in England…