Forget brainstorming sexy ideas to change the world, have you noticed how much these days it’s a all about Blame Storming

Forget brainstorming sexy ideas to change the world, have you noticed how much these days it’s a all about Blame Storming and boy are we Arabs, & Part Time Arabs great at it when we want to be!

Picture the scene…. A conversation starts over diner – a friend starts off loading the troubles of his/her day and how crap his/her boss/aunty/man on the bus/parent/child/ is. Notice who they hold accountable for there miseries. Are they themselves anywhere in the conversation? Or do you hear the fateful words “ X made me SO Angry, upset, hysterical’ as though X had some kind of super hold on them and poured the anger, upset , hysterical feeling all over them using a bucket with a paintbrush to get into all the nooks and crannys.

Now I am as guilty of it as the next man, so please don’t think I am absolving myself from adding my verbal 2 ps worth in blame culture as it is far easier to say that the reason Im far from healthy, stay up soo late and have bags under my eyes, smoke too much etc… is not because I am a lazy bird who hates to break a sweat, who loves night time trash TV and chain smoking its all because I missed a key stage of development because of The War, because my teachers misunderstood me, because I was the only Arab kid in my class, because …. Because… need I go on. My part time Arab status can be a great sheild to hide away from things and yet I know I cant pin this behaviour down exclusively to Arabs, Part Time Arabs or anyone in between however I do notice that the is an added blame factor coming out of our neck of the woods…

I think it is becuase unlike a vast majority of our non Arab counterparts, we can blame really big things like War or being so misunderstood by our parents/society/family members etc… all those people and situations that seem so out of our control…. Its just so comfortable isn’t it, so reassuring that the reason were in a ditch is actually not our fault. Blame it on my cultrure, blame it on the housekeeper, blame it on the education system, the lack of time, too much time... I notice the ease in which we can abdicate any responsibilty for our lives and it freaks me out when i am with my Arab friends who have made moaning and complaining there artform so from now on I have decided to take a stand and try an experiment.

From now on, if anyone goes into a tirad about how unhappy/bored/fed/up/used/abused etc they are... I will ask them the one question I know will allways defrenciate those who want to move to someplace better, more soultions focused and proactive and those who dont. I will ask them the magic words... What do want instead. Intrestingly, I know that this question usaly results in a response about what they DONT want so i repete the question. What do you what instead. By nature, I find the arab side of our culture so keen on a good story, all that wailing, all the tradjady, so not sure what will show up when i ask that question, but going to give it my best shot and will keep you posted on my findings. so my wonderful Part time Me.... what do you want instead?

Dilemmas of a Part Time Arab

Mondays questions...

Should I try to learn to read Arabic via night school or Salamdal comics?

Did Beirut/Bahrain/Dubai get smaller or did I get bigger?

What’s the difference that will make the difference when it comes to motivating fellow young Arabs to take responsibility for there lives and step into there compelling futures?

Will my extended family ever stop worrying if I will re-marry?

Will I ever stop giving monkeys about my extended family worrying if I re-marry?

How is it that P = B in Arabic?

If I did learn to write in fluent Arabic, would I still be dyslexic in how I write when its in another language?

When will I want to spend my holiday breaks somewhere other then the Middle East?

Is tabouleh without bulghar wheat ; still tabouleh ?

Help …I think I’m turning into my mother.

Why else would I become a hysterical clean freak at the thought of my girlfriend’s arrival to London this week to stay with me? Don’t get me wrong. I am not 100 % boho or hippyish in my overall views on cleanliness and all in all I fair pretty well, having been raised by a mother who wont even allow a handbag on a bed or shoes in the house for fear of germs, I know when to use a different sponge for different post party plates, and how to get just the right mix of detergent for a shinny perfect sink but I guess like a lot of part time Arabs who move into spaces of there own , I can occasionally swing either way, switching from Martha Stewart to Neil from the young ones in an instant esp when I live with flatmates who may have differing and slightly more laid back views to mine on the subject.

This easy come easy go approach to cleanliness has always worked out just fine with my life. Friends come and go and I have never given the rate of tidiness and hygiene in the house much thought at all and yet, suddenly, without warning, something different has taken over me with the imminent arrival of an Arab friend. …a kind of stark panic and feeling that the faint tea worn stains in my coffee cups are not Ok. The matt on the floor in the bathroom is doing my head in & gets replaced and the sheets are all re-washed for the second time in one day to get even whiter. I take out books on how to get everything clean using natural products cause I feel bad for the environment and I want everything super shiny and when all else fails I resort to bleach – loads of it, on everything, including the offending tea stained mugs. The irrational side of my Arab brain is worried I just may end up poisoning her or worse still making her feel unwelcome cause my house is so out of order. My rational Arab brain says relax, she will have a great time, spoil her with your cooking, your company, and worry not about the stains in the mugs- she will hopefully be having such a great time who cares.

Perhaps when she arrives, I will say something like… “Welcome to my home and so sorry I didn’t have a chance to tidy up” whilst lying through my teeth. Then again perhaps I won’t. Perhaps I will … blame it on my flatmates and hope that none of them speak a word of Arabic!