ihath

“Since they are using generic brown people, why not hire generic brown people that can speak the language.”. I kept thinking to myself as I heard the Arabic language being butchered in the movie Hidalgo. In that pathetic Hollywood movie not famous brown actors pretend to speak Arabic and unfortunately the director has chosen to put lots of Arabic dialog with English subtitles, their language was so bad and so pathetic that I had to block my ears with my own hands because it was hurting to hear such monstrosity. Aside from Omar Al- Shrief who speaks the language beautifully, the rest of the Arabic speaking roles go to people who have no clue and make no effort to speak it in an understandable way. The result ….. a total travesty. Serves me right for renting a Hollywood movie that has a depiction of Arabs or Muslims in it. In Hollywood movie universe …. Arabs and Muslims are either crazy pure evil fanatics that are strategically placed so that the all American hero can get his hero shot at the end or stupid simpletons who provide cheap comic relief breaks to an otherwise serious movie.

During the past weekend I rented the movie Pitch Black, a horror sci-fi movie recommended by a friend. The movie include a Muslim father whose name is Imam and three of his sons. Had I known that the movie included a Muslim character I would have not rented it, as I have vowed after watching Hidalgo never to watch another American movie with Arab or Muslim characters in it. Why pay money in order to be insulted, humiliated and leave frothing at the mouth. Why waste my time to see myself depicted in ways I can’t relate to nor feel any connection to my reality. But, I must say that the movie Pitch Black offers a considerable improvement over Hidalgo. For one thing, the three young boys seemed to speak Arabic fluently, I suspect they are native speakers of the language. One spoke with a Lebanese accent the other with Palestinian or Jordanian accent, but at least they knew the language. The actor playing Imam, the father, spoke Arabic with an American accent but I could tell that he had put an effort into learning the phrases in his dialog well enough so that at least I could understand what he was saying. I appreciated his effort. At least they didn’t butcher the language and make my ears hurt. I wondered early on in the movie why the writer had placed four Muslim pilgrims in the movie. “Either they will turn out to be the source of pure evil that needs to be eliminated or the stupid idiots that mess the situation up for everybody else in the plot”, I thought to myself as the first half hour got underway, but my guess was wrong. In fact the suspense filled movie keeps twisting and turning in most unexpected ways. In the first half hour I thought I would be watching a sci-fi version of Silence of the Lambs but I was wrong then after 45 minutes into the movie I thought I was going to be watching sci-fi version of birds, but I was wrong again. The movie is one suspenseful moment after the next and leaves you guessing a to what will happen till the very last minute. Turns out the four Muslims are just 4 stranded passengers on a harsh planet trying to survive like everybody else ….. Wow! ….. what a unique and radical movie …. on so many levels. Creative indeed.



Many years ago, while living in Glasgow, Scotland, I saw a painting titled “Seeing ourselves the way other people see us” at the museum of modern art. It is a painting done by a Scottish artist whose name I can’t remember. In the painting you see a hairy legged man wearing a kilt with a head that looks like a soccer ball. He is sitting on a chair upholstered with tartan fabric watching TV like a couch potato. Beer bottles and short bread wrappers strewn all over the room. The wall paper in the room is yet another tartan print. Ironic, funny, painful. The painter is at once criticizing his own society yet at the same time making fun of all the outsiders and tourists who want to see Scotland in a certain way. So many thoughts compacted in one painting, introspective, loud, vulgar, annoying, rude, offensive, how dare you? critical, hilarious. That painting is so many things. While living in Glasgow I developed a relationship with the hairy legged, soccer head man. Each time I was in downtown Glasgow, I would make a quick trip to the museum of modern art to say hello to my new friend.

ihath: Hello!, hairy legged soccer head Scottish man, how are you today?
Hairy legged, soccer head Scottish man: Hello ihath. I am smashing. Still sitting here on my arm chair and watching TV. How are you ihath?
ihath: I am fine. Still lost. Still not sure what I am doing on this planet.
Hairy legged, soccer head Scottish man: That is jolly good my lass. I must go now. Time for the next Coronation Street episode.

Every nationality should have at least one “Seeing ourselves the way other people see us” painting. It would be good for the soul of every nation to do that. But I am not in the mood for the hard work of introspection and the grueling work of being self critical. Today I am in the mood for cheep shots made at the expense of the other guy.

Warning: Cheap shot ahead

Disclaimer: This following story is fictional. Any similarities to real events or people living or dead is completly intentional

In honor of the spirit of cheap shots and easy way out, I would like to suggest to all Arab film makers in the middle east to start incorporating American characters into their movies. Payback time! …. I say. For starters lets hire white French actors who will speak English with that heavy Parisian accent to play the role of Americans. After all … all gringos are the same, aren’t they? Make them squirm while they hear their own language being twisted and turned by those that pay it no respect. Then make sure to create plots where the American characters are always the weirdoes. Put them on the defensive ….. I say. Here is one film idea that I am willing to donate for free to any Arabic movie maker provided he or she promises to hire Parisian actors to play the main roles. So here it is.

The Da Falihi Can

A secret society of weirdoes that are obsessed with taking nude pictures of unsuspecting victims is having a meeting at their secret hall. After they perform secret hand shakes they sit down to have their discussion. After they are finished with planning their evil plan to dominate the world. They move on to the next item on their agenda, difficulties faced with taking nude pictures of unsuspecting people. Recently several members have gone to jail and have been scandalized for their god given obsession. It is becoming increasingly difficult to take nude pictures of people who do not want to be pictured in the nude. For one thing, the number of people refusing to expose themselves in the nude is sharply declining in America. As we see in home movies and American college video, American people are willing to take their clothes off for a glass of beer, for a smile or even to get 5 seconds of fame of mare passing attention. Even the big celebrities are willing to take their clothes off. And for this secret society, taking pictures with cooperating subjects is a no-no. It’s just no fun if the subject is willing. Secondly, laws of privacy in the land of the proud and free are becoming ever stricter and harder to work around. In the past priests, police men and politicians were above scrutiny and when they took those pictures people looked the other way. But in today’s sad and skeptic society people look with suspicion even onto the clergy. They all shook their heads at their sad state worrying that their ancient society of weirdoes will become extinct. That is when Freddy the bright one in the group came up with a brilliant plan. And it went something like this.

Lets create a powerful lobby group that pretends to embody good Christian values that influences to put an unsuspecting poor soul into the white house. Then we convince this God fearing poor soul to invade a country because it has weapon of mass destruction. And that we need to liberate that country and give them democracy. Then we infiltrate those silly left wing groups and whisper in their ears that it is all for oil. So that all sides are confused about the real motivation. We must select a conservative country with very modest population. A country where people never show up nude, not even in front of their own family. A country where women are covered up from head to toe and men are covered up from neck to toe. For example, Iraq. Then when the war starts, we all will volunteer as soldiers claiming patriotic feeling. We make sure not to fight and keep our heads low and volunteer to guard the prisoners. And there we can go wild, take nude pictures of modest Iraqis of all shapes and sorts. Then we will create a scandal and those picture will be published in every newspaper and TV station so that our comrades back home can enjoy as well. I predict that even the most respectable of news agencies won’t be able resist to publish those pictures when they have their hand on them. We might even get new recruits into our secret society. As looking at nude picture of Iraqis will become the new American past time. We will have a free hand. We will gain a new legitimacy that we never had before. Taking all the nude pictures we want. Heck! I even predict that we will be able to get nude pictures of their president ….. that man they call Saddam. They call us perverts now but they will start calling heroes who were a bit confused under strain.

Everybody in the room looked unconvinced.
"But that is is too complex and elaborate" said one of them
" I can't believe that a mainstream news agency like CNN would broadcast nude images of Iraqis against their wishes .... I just can't see it happening" said another.
"You think we can fool all those intellectual left wing people to believe that it is all for oil?" siad the third person.

Freddy was annoyed, "Unless one of you is able to come up with a better plan I suggest we stick to mine. These are desperate times and we need desperate actions".

Who knew that the wacky plan would work so well. The weirdoes society was very pleased with the progress acheived in very short time.

The whole middle east was plunging into despair and humiliation. Nude pictures of Iraqis were popping up in mainstream media on a daily basis. The shame was destroying the spirit of this once modest nation. Nobody was safe and nobody knew when it would be their turn to have their pictures takes and have to live out the rest of their life in shame.

That is when our hero Falah comes in. A historian and a scientist, Falah comes across a set of secret documents and reveal to him the existance of the Weirdoes Society. He then walks around the Louvre in Paris and sees all the paintings of nude people done by all the great masters. Falah puts two and two together and figures out that the war was not about oil, nor about weapons nor about democracy, it is about our nude assess. He tries to expose the conspiracy, but nobody believes him.

The director of U.N. named Slofi Banan tells him that since the gravy train of food for oil program ended he has to live off of his meager UN salary and has no time to think about wacky conspiracies.

The director of the CIA assures him that the American public is not interested in hairy Iraqi ass.

The director of Al Jazzeera refuses to air the story because talking about ass and nudity goes against their moral code.

In despair, Falah returns into his Iraq knowing that he has to take matters into his own hands. He works day and night in the laboratory of his house until he discovers Falihi spray. Falihi spray is substance distilled from the sand that when applied to human skin produces ultra violet light undetectable to the human eye but deadly to cameras. It's effects are that it jams all camera regardless of their kind and make and inplace of a nude body the picture appears with a black blob instead. Falah travels all across Iraq disguised as a holy man and telling them that the Falihi spray is a holy substance blessed by all religeous clerics. All the people start applying the Falihi spary and all nude pictures of Iraqis appear with big black blobs in place of nude bodies. The weirdoes society starts withdrawing from the army because their plan has failed.

A group of Islamic terrorist discover the true nature of the Falihi spay and steal huge quantities of it. They travel to the US and apply the spray on all american actresses and fashion models and porno stars. This causes a complete colapse of American pop culture and Hollywood producers vow to make movies in accordance to Islamic shria'a laws.

Falah becomes a popular figure and is votted to be the next Iraqi president. During his inaguration he announces his love to Fahima ( whom I forgot to introduce earlier in the story in order to make this more of a complelling ending). Fahima accepts his marriage proposal. Fahima and Falah get married in a big ceremony in the middle of Fardous square dancing and singing all night long. Their wedding photo is one big happy black blob.

Both American and Iraqi people live happily ever after and Weirdoes society go to therapy to help them heal from their evil ways.

The End

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If such a movie is made, all American pundits will be arguing till they turn blue in the face that not all Americans are perverts ….. and we will assure them that we the liberals in our own society understand and sympathize. Hey! …. some of my best friends are Americans. Yeah!..... I met an American once ….. he was a nice guy and all.

“Why did you bring this! ….. Don’t you know what it is about!?”
I chided at my husband, after inspecting his DVD rental choice for Friday evening. It had been a long week, I was exhausted and looking forwards to a relaxing evening watching a diverting movie that would relax me.
“The clerk at the store recommended it”, my husband retorted
“But do you know what it is about”, I asked him in an agitated voice.
When my husband didn’t respond, I answered my own question.
“It is a movie about the Armenian holocaust”

Ararat, by Atom Egoyan, was the movie that my husband brought home that evening . The same movie I was careful to avoid. I am a big fan of Atom Egoyan movies. My favorite is “The sweet hereafter”, but I absolutely loved “Exotica” as well. His movies break all the rules, they tell stories which are not chronological, the events and characters are not always related in a clear manner. Yet each shot, each scene and each word in the dialog is precise. His movies describe the inner lives of people; their thoughts, intimate motivations and conflicted feelings. He does this using a tool that is inadequate because movies are visual and you come to a movie expecting events. Yet Atom Egoyan is successful to transmit that which is unspeakable and not visual through visual images and speech in dialog. His movies are moving visual poetry we understand the message without understand how. Like magic, Atom is able to explode ideas into your head without you noticing it. He is having a conversation with your subconscious through his movies.





When I heard that the Armenian born in Egypt director decided to make a movie about the Arminian holocaust I decided to avoid it because for some reason I thought I would be seeing a movie similar to The Pianist or Schindler's List . Both movies devastated me and put me is a depressed state for a week. In the movie the pianist I watched the movie and hoped half way through that the main character would die so that his suffering would stop. Afterwards, I felt guilty for feeling that way since the main character survives and manages to put his life back together.

Knowing how skilled Atom Egoyan is at transmitting feelings and subconscious thoughts I expected his movie to destroy me into pieces and force me to push the death of 1.5 million people through my head and psyche. I was terrified of the movie and didn’t want to watch it. When it came to the Vancouver International Film festival I read all the reviews about it and stayed clear. I went to see other movies at the festival but not this one. One movie review stuck in my head for some reason. It praised the movie and said that it was well done but also said that the plot was too complex and confusing. That there were too many characters and events and it was hard to focus in what was going on and keep track of the movie. This surprised me since all previous movies by Atom Egoyan are poetically simple and each main character is crystal clear. Is it possible that the directors feeling were muddled because of his personal connection to the subject matter and therefore was not able to make a movie up to the same usual standard of clarity? I wondered to myself; but remained steadfast in my determination to not go see the movie.

Many months later my husband walked into our house with the movie in his hand and I finally succumbed to the curiosity. I sat down to watch the movie and told myself that at the slightest hint of psyche crushing, heart wrenching feeling I would get up and go to bed, leaving my husband to watch the movie all by himself. But ….. I was foolish …… I should have known ….. This was an Atom Egoyan movie ….. I should have known that it would be like no other movie I had seen before.

It starts nice and slow. A bunch of different characters each living in modern day Canada. They are all different and have separate lives and aspirations and dreams and personalities. But most have one thing in common and that it that they most are Armenian and deep within them they each carry the hurt of an atrocity of something that happened so long ago. An atrocity that continues to be denied by those who wish it would be forgotten. Some wish to remember it obsessively, one woman has made it her life’s work to honor an artifact that represents that atrocity, some wish to forget about it and continue with their lives and then comes the director that wants to make a movie about it. Yes, the director Atom Egoyan makes a movie about a director that is making a movie about the Armenian Holocaust. And by doing that he exposes the psyche of what it means for a person to make a movie about a genocide. The desire to make sure that the movie is rooted in facts proven in history yet ensuring that it is not too abstract. How do you tell a human story without reducing it into anecdotal account of a few people. How do you represent the full scale of the suffering of millions but keep the audience captivated. How far do you push, how much gore do you put into the movie. How much suffering can you show, how much to vilify those who have committed the crime. What is the purpose of such a movie, is it to educate, is it to validate the pain, is it conjure up sympathy from those who are not related to it, or is it revenge, to get them back to strike back at those your ancestors were helpless to strike at. But now the director is strong and educated and has means and a reach and he can make the most horrific movie with the most horrific details that will make the whole world hate the whole Turkish race forever and ever. But then if he doesn’t push enough he will have his own community accusing him that he was too soft, not committed enough to the cause, not worthy of the honor associated with carrying the mantle of such a noble cause. These are all the themes that the movie deals with through all of it characters. The director in the movie makes the full blown “the human race is doomed and we are wretched creatures on its face” sort of movie. And Atom Egoyan makes a movie that is full of humanity and love for all people and all races including the Turkish. Acknowledging the pain that continues to persist yet allowing room for forgiveness and hope. How he manages to achieve that is a miracle in my view. It makes me in awe of him. How do you achieve that? How can I achieve that myself in my writing? … I have no idea.

As for the reviewer who thought that the movie was confusing ….. I have no idea what he was talking about. Don’t you get it dummy? It is a movie about a person who is in pain yet struggling to put himself in the shoes of everybody else including those who are hurting him. Really putting him self in their shoes, really seeing them in as honest and as compassionate way as possible, you just never see him on the screen.

The movie has been banned in Turkey. What a bunch of dummies they are. I am neither Armenian nor Turkish but if ever there was a more compassionate view of Turkish people while dealing with the Armenian genocide, this would be it. If I was Turkish I would embrace the movie with open arms and pray that all future Armenian directors, writers and artists are as enlightened as Atom.

I loved the movie so much, I watched it 4 times in a row that night. The only other movie I was mesmerized by as much, was Psycho by Alfred Hitchcock which I saw when I was a teen.

“I want to know if I am crazy or sane”
I said to my family doctor, immediately after the usual greeting and after he asked me his usual “Sooooo! what can I do for you today?”
The doctor looked surprised.
He didn’t know what to say.
He asked me to explain.

I reminded my family doctor of my brother’s first psychotic episode, that had preceded my visit to the doctor by about two months. The doctor nodded to indicate that he remembers. So I continued to explain how since my brothers hospitalization in the psychiatric ward, all the meeting with all the doctors, the medications, time spent observing the other crazies in the psychiatric ward made me start thinking
“What if I am crazy too”
“Perhaps I am insane like my brother but nobody has noticed”
“Perhaps I am mentally ill but in milder form and hence nobody has noticed it”
“Perhaps this thing is genetic, perhaps it runs in the family, perhaps we are all insane”
“If this thing is genetic then perhaps if I have children they will have the mental illness as well” (I didn’t have children at the time but was thinking about having children)
“Perhaps I am sane now but will become insane later”

Doctor! …. I have so many questions that I need answers to.

The doctor took a deep breath and started asking me questions about my job, my marriage, my relationship with my family, relationship with friends.

Then he explained to me that mentally ill people have a hard time staying in the same job for a long time, staying in a marriage, maintaining a good relationship with friends and family.
The doctor said:
“From what you have told me about your life it seems that you have a fairly stable life, you have been in the same job for years, you have been married for years as well, you have a positive relationship with many people, you are telling me that you don’t take drugs nor drink alcohol, most people that experience metal illness start displaying symptoms in their teens or early twenties, since you haven’t displayed any symptoms thus far there is a very small chance you will have mental illness later on in life. So I don’t understand why you have these concerns”

I explained to the doctor how I sometimes feel down, even depressed, how I sometimes feel sad even though there is no particular reason for it, how I sometimes wakeup in the morning and wish I didn’t have to go to work.

“And when you experience the feeling that you don’t want to go to work, what do you do?” asked me the doctor
“I force myself to go to work anyway” I told the doctor.
“Aha!” said the doctor “That is the difference, all of us experience those feelings, but some of us know how to function despite of it but for others those feeling take control”

So the good doctor assured me that I am most likely sane, that I shouldn’t worry about it.

But back in my mind for years there was a little nagging voice

Family friends have the most interesting cure suggestions for my brother’s insanity. My favorite is

Ali: Why don’t you find him a bride and merry him off to somebody.
ihath: My brother is schizophrenic, what woman would want to marry him?
Ali: You know! …. don’t you have an eligible cousin in Iraq that is marrying age?
ihath: Yes, we have many female cousins that fit the category, but don’t you think that it would be unfair to inflict a man who hears voices inside his head and needs his family to remind him to take a shower on a young woman of any nationality?
Ali: Yeah! but maybe if he got married he would feel better.
ihath: The man can’t take care of him self, how is he supposed to take care of a wife?
Ali: You can help him.

And they say that my brother is crazy …. sigh!

Then there are those that after deep thinking come up with a brilliant explanation for my brother’s predicament.

Sa’eed: You know, I figured out why your brother is not feeling well.
ihath: (thinks to herself: oh boy! here we go again) Aha! please tell me.
Sa’eed: You brother received a shock to his system when he moved to Canada, the cultural change was too much for him and that effected him. It’s living in Canada that drove him insane.
ihath: Aha! ….. and ….. what do you suggest we do now.
Sa’eed: You must get him to move back to living in the middle east.
ihath: In the middle east they lock up people like my brother and throw the key away. People like him are kept out of sight. If we were living in the middle east we wouldn’t be having this discussion because we would all be pretending that we don’t know my brother. If you are going to be insane, Canada is probably the best country to be insane in.
( I rattle off about the long list of services available for the mentality ill in this country).
Sa’eed: But while I lived in the middle east I never heard about schizophrenia, its only since I moved here, therefore it must be this country that is causing it.

And they say that my brother is crazy …. sigh!

Then there is all the crazy stuff that we his family do thinking that we are helping him.

Like the time my brother’s therapist chastised me for continuously bugging my brother about his smoking.
“He is battling suicidal thoughts, do you think he needs the added pressure and anxiety that comes when people try to quit smoking?” he told me.
What a self righteous prim and proper ass hole I can be sometimes.
“But smoking is bad for his health” I wanted to reply …. luckily I managed to stop myself from saying it.

And then I say that my brother is insane …. sigh!

10 years later from my appointment with the good doctor and many more psychotic episodes and trips to the psychiatric ward, I have learned to accept my brother as is, craziness and all.

So in the last episode he decided to attack a policeman and was arrested before he was moved to the psychiatric ward. In our family we have the standard routine for such an event. I go over to my parents house. My mother prepares the standard bag with the standard stuff in it: a change of clothes and cigarettes. No need for food, they feed them up the ying yang there but don’t provide them with cigarettes. Then my dad and I go to visit him. We already know the visiting hours and all the dos and don’t at the psychiatric ward. My mother never comes with us, she spends all the time crying and causes the other crazy people there to become even more upset.

Do not mention the word crazy, nuts or insane in the psychiatric ward. It doesn’t bother the crazies but it seems to deeply offend the nurses working there.

Do not attempt to strike up a conversation with any of the other visitors, the newbies are usually so distressed they don’t want to talk to anybody.

You can tell the newbies from the hardened family members from the look on their faces. Shock, disorientation and disbelief versus “here we go again” look.

The doctors and nurses never wait the white lab coat as in Hollywood movies. One nurse explained to me that the white coast has too much of a stigma attached to it and the mentally ill are terrified of the white lab coat wearers and so all the staff wear regular street clothes.

Do not ask any of the other patients why they are in there, they actually will tell you and frequently you will hear stuff you didn’t want to hear.

Finally, everybody knows that you do not mess with the big burly security guards, they can put you in a straight jacket faster than you can say “I am a visitor”.

So my dad and I walk into my brothers room and see that he has bruises all over his body.

“So, the police decided to teach you a lesson you will never forget” … I asked my brother.
My brother shakes his head,” the police didn’t do this to me, I did it to myself. I started banging my head against the wall in the detention cell they placed me in at the police station. When the psychiatrist couldn’t calm me down they brought me here in an ambulance”.

How lucky that we live in Vancouver, because in the middle east if somebody had attacked a policeman they would certainly receive a lesson they would never forget.

When my brother is released from the hospital, I go to visit him at his apartment and I am pleasantly surprised to when I walk into a clean and neat one bed room apartment.

ihath: “Hey! brother ….how come your apartment is so clean?”
brother: “I knew you were gonna come”

I feel rather flattered that he bothered to clean his apartment just because of me. “He must be feeling well, this must be a good day” I think to myself.

After we chat for a while I notice that there is no food is his apartment and so I suggest that we go do some grocery shopping, I take him to the corner grocery shop and try to interest him in various produce.

“yum! yum! look cookies ….. would you like cookies?”
my brother doesn’t look interested but I place the cookies in the shopping basket anyway.
“Hmmmmmmmm! look instant noodles in a cup ….. surly even crazy people like those”
my brother gives me a sly smile
“What else should we buy? bread, cheese, milk, cereal, what else do you want?
my brother doesn’t care and shows no interest. So I just buy what I think he might need and we go back to his apartment.


Afterwards I decide to take my brother for brunch at the elbow room café in downtown Vancouver. This place is full of character. It is run by these gay men whose motto is “The customer is always wrong and the abuse is free”. The waiter is greeting all the male customers by calling them doll or queen , he calls me a sweetie. I usually like going there because the food is good and the place has character, but as soon as we walk in I realize that I made a mistake. While going to funky place is fun, bringing a mentally unstable person to such a place can be difficult. For one thing my brother is confused by why the waiter is calling him doll, I keep explaining to him that this part of the gay atmosphere of the café. When the waiter comes to take our order, my brother asks a question about one of the menu items then he asks the same question about three times in different ways. Typical behavior for my brother. In cafés where the motto is “the customer is always right” the waiter would patiently answer the same question 4 times but this isn’t one of those cafes. The waiter gets annoyed and says “What is wrong with you? Did the doctor drop you on your head after you were born? Are you crazy?”

My brother and I look at each other and start laughing hysterically, we are both thinking of the same thing. “Yes! I am crazy” my brother says, “Yes!, he is crazy I say”. We keep on laughing.

The waiter looks surprised, he didn’t know that what he had said was that funny.

I am absolutely certain that my brother is crazy, as for me, I guess I will live forever in doubt about my sanity. But a wise doctor taught me that worrying too much about it is a waste of time.