Selected and Translated from the New York Times article Barred From U.S. Under Trump, Muslims Exult in Biden’s Open Door
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While reading a book about water management in Yemen, I was surprised to learn that 6 centuries ago, people from Yemen were migrating from the Hejaz to what is present-day Ethiopia due to ecological distress. I also read about the Rashaida tribe (aka “Bani Rashid”) which followed a similar migratory pattern a hundred and fifty years ago in a large-sized coffee table book at the St. George Art Gallery. They currently live on the coastal areas of East Africa.
This question about the survival of the Yemeni people has haunted me since I have been following the heart-wrenching developments of the civil war. Many organizations focus on the lack of humanitarian intervention into this region from developed nations. Yet much less is discussed about the relationship between Yemen and Africa at large. The latter is considered relatively undeveloped, but provides assistance nonetheless through economic networks.
“Diaspora” has a complicated relationship with the nation-state. As Yemen strives to define its identity as a nation-state, with the Southern Transitional Council vying for prominence and calling for political autonomy, the survival of the diaspora is also a worthy subject of discussion a humanitarian and academic perspective.
Yemeni restaurants dot the urban spaces of Djibouti and Addis Ababa. The restaurants are generally popular among the upper-middle class of these respective cities. The restaurant-goers consume Yemeni culture in its aesthetics and food alongside a sense of Islamicate culture, such as designs of Yemeni architecture.
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A rather elaborate version of Yemeni fish. Source: internet |
The menu includes lamb as well as Yemeni fish, which is usually baked and served on a flat and dry surface. The restaurant "Bait al Mandi," located in the embassy-dotted Heron area of Djibouti, even had a French menu. This menu signified the class of the targeted clientele. As I ate in the "Al Pasha" restaurant, which is located in the former colonial space of Djibouti, a high ranking Djibouti military officer also was eating lunch to my left, as well as 4 abaya-wearing girls to my right. The girls self-consciously switched to communicate in French when they joined my table. The buffet at the up-scale Kempinski Hotel, near the shoreline, costs 45 dollars a person. This buffet also included the item of Yemeni fish. Through culinary heritage, Yemeni people find a way to maintain their economic independence through the upper echelons and aspiring classes of (Islamicate) Africa, without any handouts from (non-Muslim) developed nations.
This trend of perceptions of a certain diaspora, which differs from the way English media portrays them, also follows a China-related observation. Western development agencies pioneered the foreign presence in East Africa. Their buildings are usually gated and guarded with barb wire. Their cars are usually very clean and up-to-date in comparison with the dusty and slightly run-down city buses common people use for transportation. The general vibe of these agencies toward the area seems optimistic but also condescending, since their presence has been felt for decades. In contrast, China’s presence feels much more pragmatic: profit is the name of the game and hardcore construction capital accumulates, instead of the other abstract notion of “development.” While China also engages with similar efforts of development, such as poverty alleviation and disease preventions, other sectors do not shy away from the business element of China’s involvement in Africa. In Ethiopia, furthermore, many of the tiles on the street are distinctly from mainland China. To trace it even further back, Addis Ababa has socialist architecture harking back to a different type of internationalism than the current one led by development agencies. Yet development agencies and mainland China-led initiatives both share a secular bent and an emphasis on financial accountability. The ethical aspect of accountability and sociability can easily be lost in translation during the search for construction and development.
Both the China population and Yemeni diaspora do not fit in the dominant literature on foreigners in East Africa, and thus have drawn my attention. This article has discussed their presence in terms of urban consumption as well as racial identity. After the abolition of slavery in most parts of the world, the evolving identities of “Africa” can be indicated not only through skin or tribe, but also capital. Though capital accumulation is intertwined with racial identity around the globe, the native-foreign relationship cannot be distinctly drawn alongside the binary of exploitation. While welcoming populations seeking refuge such as the Yemeni people, nationalism is alive and well alongside capitalism in East Africa. As the PM of Ethiopia calls for importing more “zero-zero” standard of new cars instead of used cars from abroad, the role of the Chinese and other non-Ethiopian diaspora will need to find a new way of continuing their commercial relationship with Ethiopia.
It has been 10 days since I arrived in Djibouti. It is 30+ degrees celsius here and I do not leave the indoors much in the daytime, which gives me time to ruminate and read. The currency here is the Djiboutian Franc and there are usually power-outs every week.
Much has happened though I will focus on one individual. I have met a Somali-Canadian gentleman here whose name is Sahal Ali. He invests in agricultural products in the countryside. While staying at the same hostel, we are lucky enough to hear the azaan every day from the neighboring mosque. The man who conducts the azaan is very good. Coincidentally, I am also reading a book about Africa and the Indian Ocean World, which traces the spread of trade in these two regions as well as the proselytization of Islam. My new friend Sahal Ali also helps with my understanding of the religious-cultural terrain. Upon learning about my research interests, he has shared photos of his travels to a museum in Massawa, Eritrea. The city of Massawa, like Djibouti, is a a historically important port that hosted traders of varied ethnicities, many of whom were Muslim. The Ottomans also had official ties with the Emirs, one of whose name is Emir Abdullah (not to be confused with the Hashemite Abdullah of the Arab revolt). Sahal Ali knows one of the traders of cultural artifacts in this town and has said that the trader owns a copy of a 9th-century Quran. I wonder if it is for sale or just for show and tell.
Sahal also has a very interesting background. He traveled to Canada to pursue his studies in 1991 when he was 16 years old. He learned French and settled in Ottawa for work--he translated and processed immigration applications. Perhaps that explains his friendly attitude and organized demeanor. I said I have always wanted to visit Toronto because of its diverse inhabitants. He has some relatives in California as well.
He became bored of the job after 18 years and also faced many Islamophobic harassment due to his name, which was "Ali." He also found that the Canadian government tried to pass citizenship laws that infringed upon the rights of his second-generation children: a certain law (I am not sure if it passed or not) stipulated that if second generation Canadians commit a crime in Canada, they faced deportation.
He decided to move back to where he was born. Many of his colleagues and friends found his decision to be ridiculous, but so far things have gone well until the shutdowns related to the coronavirus pandemic occurred. Sometimes he visits Canada as well and drives for a smart-phone app car service. When white men board his car, he asks them where they are from. First they are usually puzzled, but after his insistence and explanation ("I am always asked where I am from"), they tell him that their grandfathers or fathers came from another country. He felt satisfied in knowing that white Canadians also come from elsewhere, though the laws and social culture may inadvertently benefit them more.
His father used to live in the Somali area of Ethiopia as well, which gave him a unique perspective about the country. He criticized the old regime for colonizing Somali land and pushing for Ethiopian supremacy, but finds that now the politics is more balanced, since a Somali can become a president of Ethiopia (which I assume was not the case before). He is amazed that Ethiopia did not manage to occupy a place with a port after many years of dominance in the region. I said I did not know much about these events before, and I only read about the Ottoman participation at the Berlin conference (1884–1885), which was an international conference regulating the Scramble for Africa and her resources. Sahal said that Ethiopia delegates also participated at this conference, though I have yet to find a written source to confirm this statement.
I watched the deliciously cut Ship of Theseus trailer five times last year before the film was available. Several times I watched it with Chinese subtitles and even quoted lines in Chinese. Both the blind photographer and the Jain monk are resolute in their convictions and values and I found it incredibly inspirational.
While watching the film, I realized that the trailer frames the stories deceptively resolute, while most characters actually experience more ambivalence towards the end. To my excitement, all plots and themes of the three segments developed in a much more complicated fashion. The blind photographer and Arab coming-of-age woman Aaliya states that in the trailer that she does not believe there are any restrictions to her producing work. In the film, I find her reliance on sound-based technology in photography to substitute for her lack of eyesight and light detection capabilities as well as the plot twist in which she experiences difficulty in appreciating the new, post-surgical art. The director of the film, 34-year-old Anand Gandhi Anthropologist on Mars, whose author suggested in the preface that disabilities can be a source of creativity,
Thus while one may be horrified by the ravages of developmental disorder or disease, one may sometimes see them as creative too—for if they destroy particular paths, particular ways of doing things, they may force the nervous system into making other paths and ways, force on it an unexpected growth and evolution.
This book suggests a whole new way to look at the disability and could provide much psychological support for anyone who feels damaged after an accident. Chinese author Bi Feiyu wrote beautifully in his novel Massage about the enormous differences between those who did not have eyesight since birth and those who became visually impaired, either gradually or suddenly, after several years of vision. While the first never knew what they lost, the latter have utterly despondent outlooks on life. If they read the previous passage, perhaps they would think differently. Yet what happens when one readjusts back to modes of ableism? Perhaps the surgeries that makes one “complete” also cut short Aaliya’s growth and evolution.
The first segment also shows an incredible relationship between Aaliya and her artistic Indian boyfriend. While he cares for her and even learns Arabic, their story is not about Aaliya’s dependency and it is not romanticized. Like couples, they fight over mundane matters as well as artistic differences. She doubts whether or not people appreciate her art for itself or the novelty of her as a blind photographer. Her boyfriend stays through the periods of difficulty, but not without bitterness. In terms of post-surgical adjustments, how does a relationship endure? Does Aaliya view him differently now that she can see him? Was he as handsome as she imagined? Now that she regained her vision, will their relationship lose balance? Neither is her relationship with India romanticized either. After her surgery, does she find it just as beautiful? What about after she notices the male gaze? After her surgery, what keeps her in this country?
The second character, the Jain monk Maitreya, resolutely refused drugs in the trailer and argued that they were tested on animals with much unnecessary cruelty. He fights a case in court against the use of testing animals for cosmetics and other non-medical use products. When I watched the trailer for the first time, I was in my first year of vegetarianism and rooted strongly for this moral proclamation and triumphalism. Maitreya discovered his liver cirrhosis and did not seek a transplant because that would require western medication.
Many of his friends could not accept this decision. One of them is a young and inquisitive friend, who adopted the name of “Charwaka,” is a reference to the Indian skeptic and atheistic tradition Cārvāka.
Charwaka plays the role of the straw man skillfully as he argues with Maitreya about what happens after death, the universe, and karma in the film. Both he and Mr. Gupta, the lawyer, argued against Maitreya’s extreme decision to refuse treatment at certain points, but they still provided companionship. Mr. Gupta said in an eloquent monologue when visiting Maitreya,
Look into your own religion. There’s constant reference to relativity. Your ancients, they were masters of understanding that there is no one ultimate rule book for all situations. The woman churning curd into butter, she has to pull one end of the rope, and let the other end go otherwise the rope will break. Contradictions and polarities are two ends of the same rope. You can pull one end and let the other end go.
Like the “middle way” in Buddhism, one should not steer towards extremities in the name of ethics. Maitreya’s fellow monks also took “Western” medicine, contrary to the strict portraits of Jain monks I have read in Maximum City and Nine Lives. In these two books, Jain monks do not brush their teeth because that would also kill germs. Some use a cloth for a ritual mouth-covering as to not inhale living beings.They also do not step outside when it’s raining and risk breaking the water puddle for similar reasons. They do not use modern modes of transportation. In the film Maitreya wakes up in the middle of the night and walks along highways in the rain to battle for an animal rights case. He breaks one code but not the other for his goal of justice.
Maitreya sits in court, listening to Mr. Gupta, the lawyer, present the argument against animal testing for cosmetics.
I have read about sallekhana, the Jain ritual to stop the intake of food and starve oneself to death, in Nine Lives. The first of the nine portraits, Prasannamati Mataji, is a respected Jain nun that fell ill, refused western medicine, and decided to take on this formidable ritual. Due to the interview format of the book, the author William Darymple does not follow through to the end of the Jain nun’s sallekhana. I learn about the nun’s resolution in words,
Mataji: ‘Sallekhana is the aim of all Jain munis. It is the last renouncement. First you give up your home, then your possessions. Finally you give up your body.’
Darymple: ‘You make it sound very simple.’
Mataji: ‘When you begin to understand the nature of reality, it is very simple. It is a good way – the very best way – to breathe your last, and leave the body. It is no more than leaving one house to enter another.’
The examinations of Maitreya’s decaying and ailing body in Ship of Theseus thus provides a more visceral and emotional portrayal of a man’s confrontation with his own mortality. Some films have oppressive long shots and the philosophical musings bog down the flow of the film. But Ship of Theseus avoids these traps and placed the stunning formalist long shots and musings evenly. I especially appreciated the examination of the Jain monk Maitreya’s body, with jarring leisions creeping on his otherwise smooth skin. The physical ailments took much toll on Maitreya’s mental resolution as well. While Jains believe in “an immortal and indestructible soul, or jivan, and that the sum of one’s actions determines the nature of your future rebirth.” in his trepid and frail state, Maitreya could not answer whether or not souls exist. He eventually accepts treatment for his liver cirrhosis and survived the immediate transplant.
In the end, Maitreya looked very healthy and content, yet no longer wears monk robes. One wonders what new occupation he took on, unanswered just like the question of Where did he learn his English, possibly before monkhood?In Maximum City, I only see the previous secular lives of a wealthy Jain family described in detail. The author observes their intiation ceremony into diksha, or monk/nunhood, with much reservation. The father of the family is the most resolute person striving for enlightenment. Yet he also takes on his entire family. His sons still desire for companionship after diksha, and the author skeptically wonders whether or not they would persist. Even if I did learn about the ending of the Jain family, there is no simple conclusion to what they experienced internally.
Part three of Ship of Theseus also departs from the trailer’s suggested plot. The trailer showed Shankar, a desperate man whose lost his kidney unexpectedly, pointing to the ostensible “culprit” and kidney receiver Navin. In the film, I discover that the altercation was a misunderstanding—Navin actually received his organ donation from a legal source. Yet Navin still helped Shankar because his grandmother, a freedom fighter, chastised him for expecting too little in life. As a stock broker, Navin wanted wealth and respect. Imparting no harm is the ideal ethical conduct in his view rather than actively helping and understanding the downtrodden. His grandmother berated him and expected him to hand out true compassion and concern for the world. Eventually he seeks out justice for Shankar, flying all the way to Stockholm, and finds an adequate but not perfect solution. Navin feels defeated but his grandmother accepts the efforts with a heart-warming welcome back in India.
This is the only segment in the film which most interactions occur in Hindi, perhaps because only the Hindi speakers would intersect with the underworld of organ-harvesting and narrow chawls. Through the film, I know little about the life of Shankar after accepting the guilt money from the Stockholm receiver. Perhaps he moved out of the narrow chawl? Little is presented about the NGO that organized the legal organ donations, as well as the person who donated nine parts of his body to nine strangers. While the film complicates and leaves more questions to the film audiences, the director Anand Gandhi has many answers and thoughts on his blog for those who are interested.