Showing newest posts with label sport. Show older posts
Showing newest posts with label sport. Show older posts

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

The Zeitouns: From Jableh to Post-deluvian New Orleans

(This article is co-written by Abu Kareem of Levantine Dreamhouse and Abufares and posted simultaneously on both blogs)

By Abufares

There's a tomb at the far end of the Corniche in Jableh, Syria. It is the resting place of 23 year old Mohamad Zeitoun (1941-1964), by far the most accomplished Syrian athlete of all times. Mohamad died in a car accident while on his way to the Suez Canal in Egypt to participate in the International Canal Swimming Race.

The Zeitoun family came from Arwad, a small island off the coast of Tartous and the only inhabited one in Syria. The father, Haj Ahmad, was a master sailboat builder. He had witnessed family and friends perish in the treacherous waves of the unforgiving sea and wanted to offer his offspring an alternative life. Accordingly he moved to Jableh where he worked hard as a mason and brought up his sons into the business. The main concern of this simple man was to keep his family safe and away from the sea but fate, as it is often inclined to, had other ideas up its sleeve.

Mohamad Zeitoun, Syrian long distance swimmer, went on to become an international legend as 3 times World Champion (1960, 1961 and 1964). In 1959 his winning of the 40 km Nile Race in Egypt was nothing short of historic as he completed the final 10 km using one arm only due to injury. His 1961 world record in the Capri-Napoli International Swimming Marathon remained unbroken for many years as he swam the 38 km in 8 hours and 45 minutes, one full hour ahead of his nearest competitor. He crossed the 50 km Suez Canal Race in 12 hours and 3 minutes in 1963. Mohamad, who never had a coach, went on to win every single international event he participated in during his short-lived career. His brother Abdulwahab, a retired general, recalls how his father sent Mohamad to work as an apprentice blacksmith at 16. His boss had to make a custom 15 kg sledgehammer for him with a steel handle because he invariably kept breaking those made of wood. He was a powerful man who ultimately defied his father's will and couldn't keep away from the water. All of Jableh, including the father, gathered around the radio when Mohamad was racing and waited for the good news. A huge celebration would erupt upon the announcement of the expected result and the proud father would delightfully cry: Abaday, Allah Ywaf'o in his provincial Arwadi accent.

In 2005, 41 years later and halfway across the world, Hurricane Katrina hits New Orleans, Louisiana. Another son of Haj Ahmad Zeitoun makes the headlines and becomes an American Legend. Heroism runs in the family evidently but why not continue reading about this fascinating story through the words of my friend Abu Kareem of Levantine Dreamhouse.



By Abu Kareem

Few books published in the United States since 9/11 have sought to understand those on the receiving end of the war on terror. Always on prominent display at bookstores are books with sensational titles written by self appointed Middle East "experts" with ulterior motives or an axe to grind. Such books fed the national paranoia and along with the popular media provided cover for the Bush-Cheney years.

Zeitoun by Dave Eggers shatters that mold.  The book is a biography of a Syrian immigrant, Abdulrahman Zeitoun, living in New Orleans when hurricane Katrina devastated the city.  Abdulrahman, a native of Arwad and Jableh, steps onto dry land in Houston after a ten-year wanderlust sailing the seven seas on commercial ships.  He makes his way to New Orleans where he settles down, marries an American woman and establishes a thriving business as a painting contractor.  A couple of days before Katrina strikes New Orleans, Abdulrahman sends his family away to safety and stays behind to look after his properties and his business. After Katrina's passage over New Orleans, the levies break and Abdulrahman's neighborhood is flooded. He retreats to the second floor of his house and retrieves an old canoe from the garage. Setting out by canoe intending to check on his business and properties, he instead finds himself rescuing elderly people trapped in their houses and feeding dogs abandoned by their owners. His wife's pleas to leave the city go unheeded as he feels duty bound to stay behind to help out. As Abdulrahman's American story unfolds, Eggers weaves in anecdotes from his past in Arwad and Jableh.  We learn much about his family of seafarers, his childhood in Arwad, the moonless nights he spent sardine fishing off the coast of Jableh and his attachment to his older, now deceased, brother, a world champion swimmer.  These anecdotes help the reader understand Abdulrahman's character, his inner strength and resolve bordering on stubbornness, his gentle piety, his devotion to his family, his dreams and ambitions and his deep sense of fairness. One cannot help but like this man.

The first half of the book recounting Abdulrahman's history is hopeful and heartwarming: an honest and hardworking immigrant thriving in his adoptive land.  Even in the midst of New Orleans' apocalyptic floods, our spirits are lifted by Abdulrahman's good deeds.  Soon, however, this American dream turns into a nightmare.

Instead of mounting a campaign to rescue the stranded citizens of New Orleans, the Bush administration, in true war-on-terror style, sets up a military siege of the city.  Thousands of heavily armed soldiers and private security guards -mercenaries in effect- are sent in.  As hundreds of citizens perish, the soldiers' first priority was to build a makeshift prison at the city's train station. Abdulrahman and three companions, two Americans and a Syrian, all of whom stayed behind hoping to ride out the storm, are arrested on suspicion of looting by overzealous soldiers armed to the teeth.  The Syrians are singled out as possible terrorists and all are detained in conditions that are a cross between Guantanamo and Abu Ghraib.  Claustrophobic and nightmarish, the second half of the book is a powerful indictment of the Bush administration and the militaristic attitude that permeated everything it did and where national security paranoia trumped even the most basic civil rights of its own citizens. Perhaps what is most shocking about Zeitoun is how the horrific treatment of detainees in post-Katrina New Orleans went completely unreported by the national media at the time.

Eggers is a compelling storyteller and a careful journalist.  He researched and cross checked all the facts of the events described in the book.  He even traveled to Syria several times to meet the Zeitoun clan and learn about the coastal towns of Syria.  As a good journalist should, he avoids sentimentality, though his admiration for Abdulrahman, his wife Kathy and the whole Zeitoun clan is hard to hide. Abdulrahman comes across as an admirable human being, fair and idealistic, almost to a fault.  Even after his arrest and mistreatment, he stubbornly refuses to think ill of his fellow human beings, assuming that it is all a misunderstanding that will soon be resolved.  It is perhaps this quality that also made him so liked among his neighbors and why so many New Orleanians were ready to come to his defense.

Even after Bush's departure, the perception of a "clash of civilizations" lingers and ignorance and suspicion of Arabs and Muslims remains an issue in the United States. I therefore take it as a hopeful sign that Zeitoun, a book with a fairly narrow focus, made it to the New York Times best seller list last year.

References:

Zeitoun by Dave Eggers (English)
Lecture Abdulwahab Zeitoun 2008 (Arabic)
The Guardian: The Amazing True Story of Zeitoun 2010 (English)
Nass MBC Net 2010 (Arabic)

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Barça, Barça, Barça



I'm in a state of eternal love. I love good food, good wine, the good life and a good woman.

I'm also in love with FC Barcelona... with Messi, Etoo, Henri and the greatest bunch of football players in history, the best coaching staff and the most amazing fans in the world.

On the other hand, I hate Manchester United with a vengeance and accordingly my happiness today is beyond words.

Barça, La Liga Campions. Barça, Copa del Rey Winners. Barça, European Champions 2008 -2009. We kicked ass last night and nothing is more fun than kicking the Red Devils' big, fat and ugly butt.

Barça, Forever!!!

Saturday, January 13, 2007

I Want to Ride My Bicycle

Inspired by Shannon

Just about fourteen months ago I’ve stopped riding my bicycle. The level of physical activity I had maintained up until then came to an almost complete stop. I was diagnosed with a ruptured disk in my lower back. The pain became unbearable and it stabbed down through my right leg. I couldn’t walk any longer, let alone exercise.

Instead of surgery, I took the long road to recovery and stayed in bed for over a month. The many x-rays and scans of my back were examined on both sides of the Mediterranean with virtually the same verdict. Surgery was ruled out as I was suffering from three separate injuries to my lower back, the oldest of which dated back to 1996.
My body had been complaining and giving me warning signals for some time but I had turned a deaf ear. For four years in a row I was driving a two hundred kilometers roundtrip everyday to work in Lattakia. I would spend the whole day standing up on my own two feet on the job site. I kept lifting weights that I was not supposed to, twisting myself under or over machinery and climbing stairs like a fifteen year old kid on the trail of a naked Britney Spears (or whomever they are running after nowadays). Eventually, there was one wrong move too many and my back gave in.

I have done well coming out of it the way I did. However, my body is not the same it used to be. My frantic mobility had slowed down. Even riding my motorcycle became a rationed joy and I have come to accept that the longer rides were not for me any longer.

I have never been a health freak. I enjoy a good meal, a social drink or two and a cigarette or cigar every once in a while. I’ve always burned what I ate though and my weight remained almost constant. But in the last year alone, I have gained six unwanted kilos due to the lack of any proper exercise. The main problem was that I hate any indoor work out routine. I am an active person in the way a manual laborer is rather than a white collar stiff going to the gym to burn those extra calories. I enjoy the outdoors tremendously and my favorite passion had been hunting quails in the countryside. Simply translated that would mean a thirty kilometers walk on rough terrain at least twice a week. Then hunting was banned in Syria, not for the right reasons I am afraid. I needed an alternative and fast, so I bought my first bicycle as an adult.



The Tartous Corniche (Sea Boulevard) is a seven kilometer road stretched north to south at the sea front. At least four times a week, I would ride by the sea to the edge of town and back home, a distance of roughly sixteen kilometers in a little less than forty five minutes. On weekends with nice weather and calm winds, I would sometimes ride to Rimal Zahabieh and back, a distance of thirty five kilometers. I kept my weight in check and my physical stamina the envy of people half my age.



I am back on my bicycle and it feels great. I love to ride it in cold weather in my afternoon break. I owe it to Shannon. I read her post about getting back in shape, switched my PC off, left the office in a hurry and took my bicycle to the shop for a thorough check and tune-up. Here I am, twenty four hours later, enjoying the chilly wind blowing in my face and the beautiful sea easing my eyes and mind. I am riding again, and I would do so every chance I get.

Saturday, August 12, 2006

Football... According to a Tartoussi


A month had passed since the end of the Germany Football World Cup 2006. Although in terms of organization it was one of the best world cups ever, the play itself, the refereeing and the final game have left plenty to be desired. It is important that I state that I don’t care much about world cups. The only advantage I see in it is that it brings in new fans to the world most popular sport. I can speak about Syria only, but it might be true elsewhere, when I say that the world cup brings in women and children in large numbers. It also brings in shallow faddists who get terribly excited because it’s the in-thing to do once every four years.
I have no national team to follow in the world cup, and I’m certain this affects my attitude. I can understand why people get excited over their national teams. Yet, I’m not fully certain that this is simply it. I love Italy like a second home. I love the food, the places, the language and the people. I am happy because they are happy. But in all honesty I never liked their football. The Italian way of playing football is the most un-Italian thing I’ve ever seen in Italy. It is in total opposition to the way Italians truly are. Just look at the half-empty stadia during most Calcio games.
For me, an avid European football follower and a devoted Arsenal FC fan, the fiasco that is the world cup is an overrated sporting event, although I must admit that it does more good than harm. In 2006, a shameful damage was inflicted on the sport and probably made my last statement untrue; the end of the free to watch era and the introduction of the highly controversial Pay TV for this very popular event. As if they weren’t suffering enough already, the underprivileged all around the world were denied this basic entertainment right.
I don’t see it as wrong for the different “good” leagues around the globe to charge viewers. Clubs in the end need to make as much money as possible. Money keeps the business wheels spinning and the level of play certainly continues getting higher and higher. Good players cost millions and the loyal fans have to share part of the expenses. How can I be a devoted fan of Arsenal FC, an English team in the north of London, and not sound like a hypocrite at the same time? This brings me to the main point behind the entire post.
Tartous never had a good football team since the creation of the Syrian League in its present format. The Tartoussi football fans always looked outside. Almost every football fan in Tartous is either an Ahlawi or a Zamalkawi (the most famous 2 Egyptian teams). I would daresay that if the Syrian and Egyptian Cup Finals were playing at the same time, the vast majority of real Tartoussis will be following the Egyptian cup. We’re not unpatriotic in any sense. We just love good football and have the easy and common sense (enhanced by the fact that we don’t have a team in the first division) to admit that Syrian football sucks. Why would anyone waste 135 minutes of his/her life on one of the most boring forms of entertainment possibly available? This goes to include, again according to real Tartoussis, all Asian-Arab football leagues. When we feel nationalistic, we search for an African-Arab football game. When we feel like watching real football, our eyes and hearts go to the old continent (as it’s called). We are all devoted fans of one good European club or another. We are all avid followers of at least one major European league.
I follow, and in term of frequency, the English Premiership, the Spanish La Liga, the German Bundesliga and the Italian Serie A. Besides Arsenal, I also like Barcelona FC and these are my favorite 2 teams. In the Italian Calcio, I don’t know, I will say without much conviction that I’m a fan of the Inter. I will see how it goes this year. As for the Bundesliga, and although I’ve always admired the high level of football it offered, I never had a team to support. That is until yesterday, and thanks to a dear German friend who showed me the light! I’m just making the announcement: I’m a Bayern Műnchen fan for this season and beyond (They won 2-0 yesterday in their excellent opener against Borussia Dortmund).
Finally, why the picture of Thierry Henry? The answer is very simple. HE IS THE BEST PLAYER IN THE WORLD - END OF STORY.

Friday, June 09, 2006

Final Countdown to the FREE Germany 2006 World Cup

You don't need to pay 1 cent to watch the World Cup.
Tune in on the following:

Name Sat Freq Sym
TSR Hotbird 11527 27500 H
SF2 Hotbird 12400 27500 H
Slov2 Hotbird 12302 27500 V
ZDF Astra1B 11954 27500 H
M6 Eutelsat 11283 27500 V

I'm watching ZDF right now in Tartous, 1 hour and 18 minutes until Zero Hour.
We have a choice of German, French and some other languages. Arabic was bought by a bunch of thugs. Put your Arabic commentary in water and drink it ART (انقعوا تعليقكم العربي واشربوا ميته).
More to follow after the Party.

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

ART SUCKS

I call on all football fans in the Arab World, Syria and Tartous to speak up against and boycott ART (the monopoly and vicious mogul). God, don’t make them full! (Allah La Yshab3hon).
ART want us to pay to watch the Number 1 sport in the world. They’ve been spreading rumors throughout their extensive campaign that nobody, absolutely nobody, can broadcast the Germany 2006 World Cup to the Middle East region but ART. They’ve been relentless in their ear-deafening crusade, even terrorizing innocent football fans with threat of prison and/or castration if they, the fans, dare watch any game without paying to ART first the unfathomable fee of 13,000 Syrian Pounds. Some poor souls have succumbed to the blackmail, but many have not.
Don’t you worry my brothers and sisters in humanity and in football, someone (probably many) will screw ART bad and broadcast the WORLD CUP for FREE. We really don’t care if we’re going to hear a German commentator or a Sanskrit one. We want to watch football and have a wild fiesta. I promise my friends here in Tartous that I’m going to throw a wild party when the Cup starts on June 9th, 19:00 local time. FREE BEER EVERYONE!
Please make yourselves heard, on your blogs and everywhere else… “ART SUCKS”.