(in)visible (in)justice.

"are you leaving for the day?," he asked.

"yes," i replied. "and you?"

"after 4," he said.

"and her?," i asked.

"not 'till after 9," he said.

in each of the buildings on campus (as well as other businesses in kuwait) there are two types of servants: the a butler, complete with bow-tie and all. he is responsible for serving you coffee, tea, running documents, etc. and the second is the housekeeper. and it's always like this--he is always the butler, she is always the maid. and he, as i found out on thursday, only works the hours people are at work (9 am-4pm) and she works before and after people work (from 6 am to 9 pm). 7 hours versus 16 hours for the same despicable pay all working for this horrific company (this is the only cleaning company in kuwait--there's many monopolies here).

but truth is, these two have it better than most. they work in an american university where some people are at least sympathetic to their plight and treat them with some dignity. in the private sector, this is not the case. you see, most people have a personal maid in their home. the maid not only cleans but also is responsible for caring for the children. chances are she is a southeast asian immigrant forced to wear humiliating uniforms that identify her position (as if there was any question). the maid's quarters, which i'd like to add houses are built with, are often one room with a small bathroom. there's not even enough space for a bed. there's no window, and often no air conditioning. apparently other maids are forced to sleep on the rooftops. i'm dead serious. and how much are they paid? well, first, it depends if they are paid. you see, employers bring the maids over and essentially who is there to hold them accountable to pay them for their labor? no one. and if they are paid it's about 40-50KD a month (about $150 USD). with no days off.

apparently the word is out about kuwait. there are now advertisements running along the bottom of television screens in the philipines warning people not to go to kuwait for work. it seriously is that bad.

but don't worry, this is just the beginning. how about a little government help in the matter. well, first there's really no labor laws (check out this article from last year about workers who actually tried to stand up for their rights). and second, it doesn't really help when the government is partially supporting this. how, might you ask? well, lets start with the weather. as you know, this is kuwait. it's a desert. deserts are hot. but convienetly, this country is never above 50C. why, you might ask? because then it's illegal for workers (mainly bangladeshi men doing construction, yard work) to be outside. and so, the temperature is always taken in the shade and surprisingly never reaches above 50C (although personal thermometers indicate otherwise).

the situation for workers in kuwait is dire. and, as far as i can tell, no one seems to be doing anything about it. the united nations is here. this is clearly a human rights violation. and it's not secret either. everyone knows it. no one does anything about it.

ok, that's about all i can handle on this topic for now. i'll write more later. here's a little preview: lets compare this situation to that of sweatshop workers. are they really any different?

distinction.

i'm pretty sure pierre bourdieu would have a field day in kuwait. for the non sociologists out there, briefly, bourdieu was a cultural sociologist who studied the relationship between taste and social position. at a very basic level, bourdieu argued that taste and social class are intimately related (ever wonder why people in the similar social classes tend to like similar things? this, according to bourdieu, is why). ok, end of brief sociology lesson, onto kuwait.

so, in kuwait, there is the upper middle class and the upper class (the lower class is reserved for the imported foreign national workers which i will get to in my next post). and guess what? everyone likes the same thing. i mean, the same things. to borrow again from bourdieu, there really is no distinction.

for instance, in the united states, there are multiple sub-cultures. individuals, particularly on college campuses, attempt to distinguish themselves from their peers in a multitude of ways--clothing , political affiliations, leisure activities, etc. but none of that distinction, that difference, of taste exists in kuwait (i should add in here that many of our students do not wear dishdasha's and burqas so that isn't the explanation). on campus everyone pretty much looks the same and engages in similar forms of leisure activities (as an aside, being bored out of our minds in kuwait we ask the students what they do on the weekends. the resounding answer is always, "we go to the mall."). maybe simplistically, this would be explained by bourdieu's theory that people in similar social classes tend to have similar tastes. but my hunch is that it's far more complex than that.

afterall, using the united states as an example, both the hippie and the hipster movements are comprised mainly of white middle-class individuals who have rejected (or tried to) their privileged social position (and even though i'm probably a part of it, i mean, lets be honest people, the voluntary simplicity movement really is a privilege--how many people have no choice but to live simply?). i digress. point being, in the united states, there are multiple expressions of taste (even if they are just a different mainstream) that i don't see in kuwait.

i'm not really sure what to make of this. perhaps it's all the social emphasis on beauty, on money, on the superficiality of life. but, i would argue, that we find that in the united states too--yet some people still resist. any ideas?

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oh, and how *sweet* is this truck? talk about the epitome of branding. we discovered this gem in a mall parking lot last night, no less.

unacceptable.

most days i enjoy my walk to school. it's a pleasant way to start the day, a nice scenic view of the arabian gulf, and just enough sweat to feel like i was productive before 8:30 am. so, my journey to school begins like this. i leave the apartment at which time i usually look at my watch--i am obsessed with timing everything (which i blame on running). i cut through some back streets and end up on one of the main shopping streets in kuwait. from there i cut behind a mall, cross the infamous gulf road where cars undoubtedly exceed speeds 100 mph, and then i walk along the gulf until i reach school. all by myself.

well, yesterday on that little road i cut back on behind the mall some punk little teenage boys had words for me (i had words for them too but i thought it would be wise if i kept them to myself). theirs were along the lines of, "five minutes in the back of the car is all you need baby." mine, muttled under my breath, were about every expletive combination you can think of. oh, and one more thing--guys over here often follow you in cars. it's obnoxious. it usually lasts a few minutes, and once they realize they aren't getting anywhere, they leave. this is what happened yesterday.

anyways, today i decided it may be best if i would just stay on the main shopping road and walk to school just in case they decided to see if that was my routine walking pattern. um, mistake number one. meredith, please remember one of the reasons you started walking along the gulf was there was less harassment and people (read: men) to encounter.

so, today, walking to school, i reached that main shopping street. there was a man in an old white car wearing a dishdasha who began to follow me. this is always annoying, let alone unacceptable, but i figured, this too shall pass (afterall, i am walking on a busy street). no suck luck. he followed me the whole way, i mean the whole way, to school. he ducked into side streets, parking lots, and circled around to wait for me to catch up. finally, the university was in sight. but, as i approached school i wasn't sure what to do. do i want him to know this was where he could find me? mohammed, my favorite gate guard (campuses are gated here) saw me walk past the entrance. he signaled me to come back. finally, i did. he asked me what was going on and there it came--the puddle of tears. i told him what had happened, he said he had seen him in this last block too, and that i could call the police since i had his license plate number (and i'll gladly give it to any one of you who would like to chat with this man about his unacceptable behavior :).

this, my friends, might be the straw that breaks the camel's back (an appropriate analogy in kuwait, if i do say so myself). i probably shouldn't be writing this when i am still so upset about it, but i have seriously had enough! my students tell me about men who chase girls in cars--these girls try to flee from them and end up getting in accidents. about their friends being followed in the malls (and not the innocent kind you may be thinking of). really, it's completely unacceptable. it's freaking 8 am in the morning--can you please find something else better to do with your life than follow me 40 minutes to school. not really the start to my day i was hoping for. ughhhh....

wait your turn.

traveling back from amman yesterday, our friend kevin (or was it emily?) asked if we had thought about what we were gonna blog about. i hadn't. it always is so difficult to capture the true essence of experiences on paper. and then, a moment later, as we waited in line to proceed through the third security checkpoint in amman, i decided to write about airports.

airports, afterall, are the literal gatekeepers to new countries and cultures. well, lets just recount our experiences at the amman airport. first, we arrive ridiculously early, like three hours early (in our defense, we were told it would take longer traveling on saturday). apparently, this is two hours and twenty-seven minutes too early. upon entering the airport we are faced with an immediate security checkpoint. the guard tells us it is too early for our flight, we must wait outside until 11 am. we oblige. at 11:10 am we return. nope, he says, wait 30 more minutes. as we begrudgingly return to our seats, another airport employee tells us we can proceed to check in. thank you nice lady.

we check in, go through our first luggage screening, and immigration. next, onwards and upwards for some food and coffee (choices included starbucks, kfc, pizza hut, and world cafe. i chose the later of the bunch). after mingling in the duty free shop for a few, it was time to board. we must proceed through another security screening at the gate. well, it may be a vast overgeneralization to call them security screenings considering the security officer didn't look at my passport or ticket, and probably wasn't watching the scanner either. you may be interested to know that following this checkpoint all women must proceed to a separately partitioned room to be screened/frisked out of the sight of men. interesting indeed.

ok, but let me back up a minute. so, this security checkpoint line gets long and chaotic. quick. luckily we made near the front of the mahem. well, for a few minutes. and then, out of no where comes this family. mother, father, and four children who convienently position themselves right in front of us. now, i'm not a fighter (i'm a lover), but i was close. i wanted to ask them if they had ever learned the middle school lunch line lesson called wait your turn. another one of my fellow travelers, who shall remain nameless, remarked, "they must be kuwaiti." yep. (disclaimer: kuwait is vastly different than the surrounding gulf countries. just think of it as being from beverly hills when strolling through long beach...)

now, now, i know that you are thinking this could happen anywhere. and it could, and it probably does. but seriously, it is this sense of entitlement, that i am better than you that i, frankly, cannot stand. some of you know that i am anxious to return home. and i am. the heat here is bearable, the boredom even tolerable, but the sense of entitlement is, well, frankly unacceptable.

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ok, on a happier note, here's some pics from the trip...

street in amman.

floating in the dead sea.

you know what these are.

at petra.

traditional masks.

the whole crew (l to r: emily, cory, me, jill, kevin)