Burn the Gel, Hide the Wax, Gift the Shorts to the child of the neighbor

I wanted to ask, in deep curiosity, agony almost, if there is any grain of truth in the rumors about people giving moral reprimands recently in shopping areas of Amman or academic institutions on the basis of improper dressing and appearance such as spiky hair, shorts, baggy trousers, and cut-sleeve shirts.
I am very sad my remaining hair does not allow any spiky fantasy to come true. Otherwise I would enjoy discussing aesthetics with the moralists.
I have heard few stories, about giving reprimands and imposing fines. I won't say how, and I won't tell in what expression of deep shock the faces of the young people who told me were.

But on the other hand, Amman is also a loudspeaker for funny rumors; one of its features I love. Till the moment, of course, I get crazy with this habit of urban legends.

Morals Rock

Appearances: Modernity and Post Modernity:
Blogging claims them both. It, being a new type of text, a still unclassified species of practice (documentation? soft quotidien philosophy? diary? a psychological indicator for silence and loneliness? a hybrid of them all?...), perhaps even a new genre in writing, where technology decides sometimes on details and inspires or undermines inspiration, seems to be offering new dynamics. Especially in societies in which news and analysis are not well trusted.
Beyond appearances: Reactionary Thinking:
People rush to express the most mainstream ideas, to enter again the stockyard of "legitimate" and pious thinking. So that in the end, they form clear-cut brotherhoods: the protectors of law and order and the pro-western from the other side. Some blog authors that just suggest tolerance and respect for personal choices, directly become the synonym for treason. The conspiracy theories are an obsession in this part of the world. If someone suggests that there is space for someone to talk about his/her emotions beyond the framework of marriage, this someone becomes directly an equivalent for necrophile, pedophile, zionist, drug-addict, pro-american and I do not know what. Many point at him/her with those long moral fingers. (Of course, I suspect that many of these people queue outside the Embassy of the Empire trying to submit their immigration papers, or outside the European smaller castles of Success and Promise).
Case Study: Please go through all what Qwaider managed to collect. A simple story in reality:
A young student who identifies himself as gay, asks Qwaider Planet to accept his blog in his blogroll. He promises that he will be talking basically about his emotions, and how he sees his life in Jordan, as member of this "minority". No pornography issues or profane talk are implied in his blog. Qwaider asks his readers to suggest their own point of view. The result is very interesting. The debate still unfolds very revealing ideas, complexes and excuses in the place of arguments. The mothers try to protect their children. The believers try to save the souls of the poor readers, the politicians ask us not to forget Zionism and the immoral West. The hygienists try to talk about diseases, mental or bodily.
When I was in high school, the teachers were avoiding to teach Cavafy's poems on the excuse of his homosexuality.If they did, they were doing it with the rapid, distant voices that we knew from the mathematician when he was presenting geometrical theoremata. The real reason was that they wanted to avoid tricky questions from the students, they did not want to do the great preparation that this poet demands, they did not want to put themselves in front of questions such as: "Why do I personally like this poetry?" or "Why this poetry is considered great and a turning point?"

Not the cherry blossom

A contradiction: the counterpoint, if I may use a musical term over culture. Always I look forward to the posters of our Japanese Section, announcing the annual poetry and speech competition (this time on March, the 3rd) for their delicate patterns. But...

Αυτά δεν είναι της κερασιάς τα άνθη που τα περιμένουν με ιερή αγωνία κάθε Άνοιξη οι Ιάπωνες.

Δεν είναι του Σκαμάνδρου τα νερά μετά από μια μέρα που έφερε πλούσια καρποφορία στον Κάτω Κόσμο.

Δεν είναι ούτε τα λουτρά εκείνων των στρατιωτών στα Όνειρα του Κουροσάβα, που περνούσαν λασπωμένοι, εν-δυο, εν-δυό, το τούνελ να φτάσουν στο αχώρητο πειθαρχικοί.

Ούτε η λεκάνη που ξέβαφε η Φρύνη τα μάγουλά της.

Είναι το αίμα των δελφινιών έξω από το Ταϊζί, με την έναρξη της θηρευτικής περιόδου, στο θαλασσινό νερό, στα ρηχά. Δεκαέξι χιλιάδες δελφινια σκοτώνονται κάθε χρόνο στην Ιαπωνία. Είναι κομμάτι της παραδοσιακής μας δίαιτας, λένε. Είναι εισόδημα για τους φτωχούς ψαράδες, λένε. Μα έπειτα λένε ότι τα δελφίνια δεν είναι εύκολο να σκοτωθούν γρήγορα κι αναίμακτα, όπως συμβαίνει με θηλαστικά της στεριάς. Οι ψαράδες διαβεβαιώνουν ότι κάνουν ό,τι μπορούν ώστε τα θύματα να υποφέρουν όσο το δυνατόν λιγότερο.

Παράξενο. Δεν είναι λίγοι όσοι υποστηρίζουν (με βάσιμες μετρήσεις και πειράματα) ότι τα κήτη έχουν νοημοσύνη παιδιών επτάχρονων. Πόσοι θα εξεγείρονταν και θα έτρεχαν σε τηλεοπτικούς μαραθώνιους για τα μακελευμένα παιδιά. Να χτιστούν μνημεία, να ιδρυθούν κληροδοτήματα, να δοθούν ονόματα σε δρόμους, να απασχοληθούν οι δικαστές στο Δικαστήριο της Χάγης. Ο ΟΗΕ ψηφίσματα. Ο αρχιεπίσκοπος δεκάρικους για τον ξεπεσμό της ανθρωπότητας και την απομάκρυνση από το ελληνοχριστιανικό δέον. Η ηθική που προχωράει μόνο με το καθρεφτάκι στο παχουλό χεράκι της "τι μου μοιάζει", "τι αξίζει", "τι υπάρχει", δηλαδή, πάλι, "τι μου μοιάζει".

In these bloody waters I was swimming, when we decided suddenly to go to the Turkish concert at the Royal Cultural Centre, featuring the Anatolian Sun Quartet plus a tenor, plus Fatih Erenler, playing nay. As always, community cultural events are funny, people forget themselves for a while, a forced displacement. But being an outsider, I enjoyed the music (I love the sound of nay so much, and two of the pieces reminded me of traditional music from Mytilene, the island of mom, and the series we were watching 30 years ago in black and white, on TV). It is bad finishing with/in a parenthesis.