Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner, wife of current president Néstor Kirchner and former senator of the Buenos Aires province, creamed the opposition and has become Argentine’s first presidenta electa, or first elected female president. Let’s let the BBC speak:
Argentina’s current first lady, Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner, has secured victory in the country’s presidential election.
With ballots counted at almost all polling stations, Mrs Kirchner had an unassailable 44.9% lead.
Her nearest rival, former lawmaker Elisa Carrio, has admitted defeat, trailing on 23% of the vote.
Mrs Kirchner will succeed her husband Nestor Kirchner and become Argentina’s first elected female president. (more)
I’m a busy man, so I’m afraid I don’t have time to make any insightful commentary, but I just wanted to share the big news from my neck of the woods.
Instead of writing this entry as an essay, I’ve decided to walk on the wild side and turn it into an easy-to-read list.
Happenings around the country:
Yesterday, Argentines went out to the polls to elect the next president of the nation. As an ignorant American, I hardly followed the presidential race, so I’m not the right person to ask about its possible outcomes. I truly feel dumb for not pay attention to something this important. I promised myself on many occasions I would read the local and national news everyday, but you can tell how that turned out. However, I do know that voting is obligatory for those that are eligible and below the age of sixty. There’s a fine if you don’t vote, but I heard that law is weakly enforced.
A Spanish company opened the first gay hotel in Latin America on Friday in the artsy Buenos Aires neighborhood of San Telmo. At US$200 a night, it’s pretty expensive, especially for this country. It’s geared towards foreign tourists. No, I haven’t been there, nor do I plan on going.
The weather is heating up. Highs have reached the late 70s and low 80s while lows have been in the 50s and 60s. All temperatures in Fahrenheit, not that crazy Celsius stuff they use everywhere except the US.
What’s going on in Hasan’s life:
I turned twenty-two on October 1. Man, I’m so old. Although I didn’t have a party, my host mom still baked a cake. She, my host brother, my host brother’s son, and I celebrated the twenty-second year of my almost-mythical presence on the planet. Instead of inviting my friends for a party that time, I decided to postpone it until after Ramadan. After delaying it for so long, I threw it two Fridays ago. My host mom, who’s seventy, prepared food all day for it. She made empanadas (a stuffed pastry), pasta, and a delicious cake. What an awesome host mom! My friends and I had a great time, although I wish we could’ve had more time to ourselves and not with my host family and their relatives.
Although my host mom takes care of me as if I was her own son, she pisses me off at times. She has a tendency to force people to eat, even after they repeatedly tell her no thanks. It may sound cute, but it really, really, really, really gets to me. A few days ago, we were in the kitchen eating dinner, and while I was chewing away, my host mom got up and put more milanesa, or breaded beef, on the stove. While she was doing that, she told me there’s more milanesa. I told her I didn’t want anymore. And then she said “vas a comer” (“you’re going to eat”). And then she sat down and said she put the milanesa for me. I said “no quiero” (“I don’t want any”). And then she started mocking me by saying “¡no quiero, no quiero, no quiero!” like a little kid. I was extremely, extremely pissed. I don’t get why she can’t take no for an answer. Ugh. I didn’t even smile or say anything. I just looked at her and went back to finishing my food. I tried to keep my cool. When she put the milanesa on my plate. I didn’t say thank you or anything, but I did tell her I only wanted half of one piece. Her food is really good, but sometimes I just friggin’ don’t want to eat anymore! It’s called being full! Besides her annoying inclination to essentially force food down your throat, we generally get along well.
My research over Muslim identity in Buenos Aires has progressed rapidly. Very little information exists about the old but growing Argentine Muslim community, so I’m one of the few to seriously studying it. I have to write twenty-five to thirty pages, but I’m nearly done. I’ve never written a paper that long, much less in another language, so it’s quite a bit of work. On the bright side, since it’s entirely in Spanish, my writing skills in that language have improved, and my vocabulary has increased considerably.
Ramadan, which began on the night of September 12 in Buenos Aires, was such a unique and incredible experience. Few Americans have the opportunity to experience this special month in South America’s most culturally dynamic capital city.
I always look forward to Ramadan because it’s the only time of the year I get to meet so many Muslims. I know it’s all about spiritual revival and whatnot, but the prospect of having the opportunity to spend time everyday with fellow Muslims is what really excites me.
To meet Muslims from various backgrounds, I switched up mosques every night to break fast and pray. Sometimes I couldn’t go because I had so much to study and couldn’t afford to spend a total of an hour and a half each day traveling back and forth in the subway or on the bus and by foot from my apartment to the mosque.
Iftar at Mezquita Al-Ahmad.
Two of the three mosques in Buenos Aires provided free iftar, the meal to break fast, every night. I usually went to the Centro Cultural Islámico Rey Fahd (King Fahd Islamic Cultural Center), Latin America’s biggest mosque, but sometimes I went to Mezquita Al-Ahmad, a smaller, more Argentine mosque, unlike the other one, which is completely run and funded by the Saudi government. I also went to the Instituto Argentino Árabe Islámico (Islamic Arab-Argentine Institute), an Islamic school affiliated with Mezquita At-Tauhid, a small, primarily Shia mosque, twice (iftar there was from Thursdays to Sundays). Given that most Argentine Muslims are of Arab descent, these three venues offered pretty much just Arab food: hummus, rice, beef, chicken, and some other stuff which I don’t know. Unsurprisingly, it lacked spiciness and zing like most Argentine food.
During Ramadan, I met dozens upon dozens of Muslims. People from around Argentina, Buenos Aires and its suburbs, and Algeria, Senegal, Liberia, Guinea, Ghana, Pakistan, India, Bangladesh, Turkey, Nicaragua, Bolivia, France, Canada, and other countries I can’t think of at the moment. About halfway through the month, I met these two guys, both brothers (brothers as in being born from the same mom), from Monrovia, the capital of Liberia, who have lived in Buenos Aires for about three years. First time I had met anyone from that country. I had read much about Liberia, about how it was founded as a homeland for former slaves from the US, so I was ecstatic to meet people from this fabled country. Their English was a bit hard for me to understand since it sounded like a really thick version of stereotypical Caribbean English, but we eventually overcame our communication troubles and became iftar buddies.
I spent a lot of time with the Bangladeshi guys. Because I was born and raised in the US and come from a much different background than them, I don’t feel we have much in common besides the fact we’re brown and have Bangladeshi ancestry. I mean, I can barely even speak Bengali. I usually just spoke Spanish to the ones that knew it and English to the others. Some of them barely spoke much of either language, so when we talked much of our communication was reduced to them speaking to me in Bengali and me replying in English or Spanish. I figured it’s better to reply in some language instead of just keeping silent.
This one guy doesn’t seem to understand that I understand Bengali almost perfectly even though I can barely form a basic sentence. Haven’t I made it clear that I can understand but not speak it? One day, I was sitting at a table with a few Bangladeshis and Argentines, and the Bangladeshi guys were telling me how I should learn Bengali since it’s a part of my heritage. And this one guy was telling them, in Bengali, that my parents must be so proud of living in the US that they don’t teach their children their native language. Ugh. I’d like to see them raise their kids in Argentina and teach them to speak Bengali well.
The entrance to the Asociación Islámica Alauita de Beneficencia.
In my quest to explore the diversity of the Muslim community in Buenos Aires, I spent Saturday night at the Asociación Islámica Alauita de Beneficencia (Islamic Alawite Charity Association), located in José Ingenieros, a neighborhood located just northwest of the Capital Federal (pronounced cah-pee-tal fay-day-ral), the actual city of BA.
There were prayers, lots of food, a panel discussion about how imperialism and capitalism have screwed up Lebanon and Syria, and a short film about Laylat al-Qadr made by a group of youngsters in their late teens to mid-twenties. Good stuff.
Because most of the attendees were Shias (specifically, Alawites), I was exposed to a side of the Muslim community with which I’ve had little contact. Although I don’t have any sort of strong sectarian identity, I grew up in a traditionally Sunni family, pray Sunni-style, and mostly have a Sunni circle of friends. Therefore, you could say I’m Sunni, even though I wish I could say I just practice Islam and not a specific form of it. I’m not a Wahabi hatemonger, so I enjoy getting out there and learning about other religions and the diverse interpretations of Islam.
The sheikh discussing the importance of Laylat al-Qadr.
What struck me most is just how Argentine the 200 or so people looked. I mean, I realized that I could theoretically walk by dozens of Muslims a day and never realize we’re brothers and sisters in Islam. Since most people were dressed in their “normal” clothes, looked just as white as most Argentines, and spoke very porteño Spanish, they could have easily blended in with the mainstream, European-descended Catholic population. Most of their families have been in Argentina for several generations. Thus, they’ve effectively lost most of their Lebanese and Syrian identity and are 100% Argentine. Because most American Muslims are various shades of brown and black while the “mainstream” looks a bit fairer, I still have the mindset that Muslims look different, even though I’m well aware they can be of any ethnicity or nationality.
A man giving the adhan before fajr.
Seeing all those Muslims made me wonder how my own kids and grandchildren will turn out. Farther removed from the immigrant experience, they’ll grow up with far less Bangladeshi influence that it’ll be as if they don’t have any foreign blood in them. Perhaps American society will even accept them as all-American and not anything else!
All in all, I had a great time. What better way to experience Argentina while keeping things Islamic?
I wish I had the time to blog more about my life down in la República Argentina. So many fascinating, fun, and interesting things have happened that I don’t even know where to start. Technically, I could write about everything, but I’m not gonna write sloppily written entries because that just ain’t my thing. I need lots of time to brainstorm, write, edit, and polish them.
Why must I actually study during study abroad?
I’m really sad that I have to return to the US in two months. Really. Yeah, I miss my family and all, but after spending eight months and a week in this country, I’m finally getting the hang of things. I don’t feel as foreign, and I know Buenos Aires far better than my own hometown. Plus, my Spanish has improved drastically. Despite having studied it for six years, I came here without being able to hold a decent conversation and understanding what people say, but now I can pretty much talk about everything from President Bush to the dog crap on the sidewalks. I still have an accent, but whatever. People either think I’m Brazilian because of my intonation (”¿Sos brasileiro, no?“–”You’re Brazilian, right?”), or they just have no clue because my accent is pretty neutral since it shows few signs of my English-speaking background. Oh, how much I loathe the American accent. So many Americans that come down here speak Spanish as if it was English. It makes me cringe. And now, I’m developing actual friendships with Argentines and not just Americans. Obviously, meeting locals is the key to truly learning the language and culture of another people.
I guess there’s nothing else I can do but make the most of my last few weeks here.
According to The New York Times, the US Army has begun recruiting anthropologists and sociologists to help with military operations in Afghanistan:
Since Gen. David H. Petraeus, now the overall American commander in Iraq, oversaw the drafting of the Army’s new counterinsurgency manual last year, the strategy has become the new mantra of the military. A recent American military operation here offered a window into how efforts to apply the new approach are playing out on the ground in counterintuitive ways.
In interviews, American officers lavishly praised the anthropology program, saying that the scientists’ advice has proved to be “brilliant,” helping them see the situation from an Afghan perspective and allowing them to cut back on combat operations.
The aim, they say, is to improve the performance of local government officials, persuade tribesmen to join the police, ease poverty and protect villagers from the Taliban and criminals. (more)
Um, isn’t it obvious that learning the savage’s culture is essential for civilizing, er, I mean, bringing democracy to them? You can bomb and shoot them all you want, but it takes much more to keep them under control.
Anthropology arose during the great era of European colonization when the white man traveled the world and encountered strange and interesting savages. Due to his superior culture and intellect, he realized early on that he must learn about the cultures of his subjects to find ways to best dominate and civilize them. Perhaps America’s military leaders should have learned from the masters. How else are you gonna play your subjects against each other if you don’t know what ticks them off?
In the video, Col. Martin Schweitzer, commander of the 82nd Airborne Division unit, discusses the changes that the social scientists have brought to the military’s tactics: “… [I]n ‘02 we used to kick in doors, and ‘07, the Afghan army or Afghan police knock on the door and request to come in.” And they needed academics to tell them that kicking in doors instead of kindly knocking pisses people off?
Okay, it’s good the Army finally realizes that force alone does more harm than good, but it just amazes me that it took them nearly six years to seriously ask why the Afghans behave the way they do. Dude, just do a friggin’ Wikipedia search! If look beyond your own narrow world view, it’s really not that hard to learn about someone else’s culture.
It’s not like me to put up so many short posts, but I just have to share this hilarious music video that was originally aired on September 29 on NBC’s Saturday Night Live:
Fantastic Mahmoud Ahmadinejad impression.
Oh, and I just love this part:
We can take a trip to the animal zoo
And laugh at all the funny things that animals do
I’m totally using that line on a girl one day.
“Iran So Far Away” is actually a pretty good song, despite it’s comically odd, homosexual subject matter. Andy Samberg, you’re a genius.
A recent BBC article discusses the plight of the Toba people, an indigenous group that inhabits northern Argentina:
Many look much older than they are, and are suffering from tuberculosis or the effects of Chagas disease, caused by a parasitic insect.
These are illnesses with their roots in poverty and all the patients are much thinner than they should be, many too emaciated to be operated on.
The families who brought them here, often from long distances, sit with them since they have nowhere else to go and have little or no money for food.
In recent months, it has been reported that some Toba have died from malnutrition, something those in the capital, Buenos Aires find hard to accept in a country where the economy is growing at the rate of 8% a year. (more)
And here I am complaining that I constantly have dry eyes.
Only something this wild would happen in Argentina:
A 24-year-old Argentine man has married a woman 58 years his senior.
The groom, Reinaldo Waveqche, told reporters after the ceremony in Santa Fe, northern Argentina: “I’ve always liked mature ladies.” (more)
I’m completely speechless.
The groom, with his mullet, mustache, and fashionably-trimmed beard, looks so stereotypically Argentine. If you wanna know how most guys look down here, there’s your answer.
Thanks to the creator of Zabeha Pork for the link.
