backlog: June 3 - Jetsetter

Dubai International airport is far from the embodiment of Emiraties than I had pictured: never have I seen greater diversity, strange tolerance under the auspices of conservatism, nor such an obnoxiously long terminal. That said, I am already very much looking forward to my return stop-over here in August.

Speaking of conservatism, it was awesome seeing sexy Persian ladies wearing mini-skirts and heels slip into full hijab upon the pre-landing announcement in the air. Less amusing was my co-passenger on this flight, a nothing-but-nice, American navy-reserves member returning to Djibouti for an eight month assignment that finds the Navy engaged in the building of a maritime academy off the coast from Mombasa. He is stationed in Djibouti contributing to the US development of schools, hospitals, and general development infrastructure in the strange, francophone, African country – a project that he couldn’t thoroughly explain to me beyond something to the effect of “we’ve seen that making enemies doesn’t work, so we’re approaching this trying to make friends.” When this work fell under the jurisdiction of the US Military as opposed to USAID I have no idea. Maybe it’s the year at SIPA, but I was shocked to hear that there is no integration of civil society, international NGOs, or other development practitioners into this work. Must learn more about this strange booty-engagement.

More fascinating was my three-hour conversation with a Turkish co-passenger. Six years of teaching Turkish language at a private academy in Kenya and big eyes gave this guy a great sense of the world – we spoke primarily about US foreign policy and the failures of global governance, and who really runs Washington. I am returning to the land of the religious. How could I forget so quickly what a minority I am? In my rejection of organized religion, and in professing my belief in the possible existence of a personal God but denial of knowing such a God myself, I did not offend my Muslim neighbor, but I know that few East Africans, nor a good percentage of the Wazungu in the field, will be so quick to let me escape without trying to help me accept revelation…

My arguments for science, human rights, and the testimony of reason will never trump the believers, at least not this summer in South Sudan. Fine; I’ll seek not to end global addiction to faith and shuffle it under the table with their arguments that Jews secretly run the world. Fine. I’ll bite my tongue as I did so often in Uganda when asked if I was born again. I don’t have the passion to argue it today. On that note, I just learned my boss at the field-site on the Ethiopian border is a Reverend, with dreadlocks – Jah heard?