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Tomorrow I’m leaving Kosovo, having spent nearly 2 weeks over here. Well I’ve learnt a lot.

A few days ago I was really stoked that we had got a local politician to spout some horrible racist garbage about the ethnic minority on which our film is based. It gives us some tension and demonstrates the prejudice, but then it makes you think…

Yesterday one of our subjects got married against his will. We were asked not to film the wedding, and when he spoke with us he seemed quite depressed. At the end of the evening, he and his new wife had to consummate their marriage and present the sheet to her parents as proof that his bride’s chastity had not been previously compromised.

Today he said that he felt his marriage, and life, was some kind of experiment, and that he would tell me if the love came to his marriage. It’s hard to leave this kind of reality behind. Another girl was telling us how she wanted to go to university, and how marriage would end her chance to go to university. Yet in my mind, it’s hard to see how this girl, at 20, could hold out against her culture and overcome all the hardships to go to university. I think there is a very high possibility that she will not go to university, and be married before the year is out.

In terms of preserving their culture, this is quite positive, but in terms of overcoming prejudice and digging themselves out of poverty, this tradition of marriage and subservience is incredibly debilitating. F*ck it, let them eat cake. 

Well into week two of our documentary project in Kosovo, today we made our way out to Obilic, around 10km outside of the capital Pristina, to interview a local municipal officer. The weather has been hot, 30-40 degrees, and the car we are using is a Lada Niva, with no window winders, and a engine cooling problem. So it’s friggin hot inside this car…

Well, It has been quite a busy time over here, and whenever I’m not trying to figure out how not to look stupid while recording a Camera spot while walking through a crowd, I’ve been working on questions for each of the people we have interviewed in the film. And the weather isn’t really helping.

Last night was a party to celebrate one of our Roma subject’s last nights of freedom before his parents marry him (sort of) against his will this weekend. In this country, I’m not sure what this means. His parents want him to be married and to start popping out the babies. He is free to refuse, but it would publicly shame his parents if he were to do so. So he does what his parents want, and simply broods resentment the whole time…

So after a late night last night, and a few long, hot days in an only occasionally functional car, I’ve been getting a bit confused while talking. Apparently this morning whilst talking to our translator, I referred to Kosovo as Croatia, and then over coffee, I did it again, and referred to the country as Albania. In my defence we had just had a rather offensive conversation with an Albanian nationalist, which we brought to an abrupt halt before things soured to the point where we would have all been thrown out of the cafe.

Nonetheless, he got something right. He suggested that Kosovo was in the parlous economic state that it is in because people do not properly dispose of their litter. The things you learn…

Kosovo is a lovely place, the people here are beautiful, and apart from the extremes of heat and cold, the climate is quite habitable.

But when we suggested to go fishing with one of our hosts yesterday, the journey was not without some difficulties. First, there was the question of finding a time when he should go. When we finally agreed to go out yesterday afternoon, things went well for a while.

I dug up some worms. We drove for 1 hour to a Lake to the east of Pristina. When we were stopped at a roadblock and asked to pay a toll, our Roma guide pleaded with the attendant that as we were foreignors, we did not have any money. I’m not sure who was laughing more, us, him or the attendant. But we didn’t pay the 2 Euro toll.

Then his van broke a fan belt. No spare belt, and with no belt in town, we called for help. Around 7pm help arrived, after we’d been fishing for a few hours, and the new belt was fitted by a friendly local mechanic. But the car wasn’t fixed. So we were towed for 2 hours back to base… on the scenic route… We zig zagged all over the countryside, and finally we got home after 11.30. What a day!

Ok. Ignore my last post…

Arrived in Kosovo yesterday, staying in Pristina and Plemetina (a serb roma enclave near Pristina).

Our documentary plan was to interview 3-4 Roma from Plemetina. We have already hit our first snag. One of the subjects has a marriage arranged on the 17th of august, a few days before we leave. Only he is not happy about it. Neither would I be.

Coping with jetlag and a little bit of culture shock at the moment, but it’s all good. Heading out to Plemetina today. I’ve packed my golf clubs.

Well I’m back, having paid the money to get my blog back into the land of the living again. The writing has slowed down, as I’m doing a bit of writing at work, though nothing that really stretches me creatively it must be noted.

In the interests of freedom of speech, I’m going to rationalize this blog over the next few weeks. It will be stripped of diversity and dissent, and nahum.com.au will become a little bit more like an online business card.

My blogging will continue on a new website, and if you’re interested in keeping on top of my ramblings, then email me and I’ll send you a link to the new page. Otherwise, I’ll be largely anonymous… It’s a show of defiance in a world obsessed with celebrity to remain anonymous… Not that I harboured the credentials nor the inclination to become a celebrity.

Yesterday, the Age covered the series of letters between homosexual CJ Michael Kirby and the Reverend Richard Lane, in which the latter urges the Justice to admit his sins to the Lord.

Lane had also told Kirby that he was a hypocrite for choosing to remain inside the church but claiming that homosexual practice “or any other sin” was in accordance with God’s will.

First, assuming God exists, how can we presume to know God’s will? Since when is God’s love afforded on a conditional basis? If we could only claim membership of the church once all hypocrisy is banished, then the church would have a membership of less than 1.

When confronted with a scene of a woman who stood accused by her peers, on the cusp of receiving a ‘just’ punishment of a stoning, Jesus intervened. “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.” In the story only 1 person remains with the woman in the scene. Confronted by their own hypocrisy, the others drop their stones and leave.

Freud had a fairly dark view of humankind. In paraphrase, he believed that any group of people could peacefully co-exist so long as another group could be found upon which all their frustrations and violence could be vented. He said that in this regard the Jews had been of great service to humankind over several generations.

It is in this continuum that I find so many men, normally loving, caring and accepting men, whose leadership in their communities is unparalleled and whose integrity is held to a high standard, who prosecute with such punitive vitriol and vehemence upon their fellow men on the feeble justification of a few isolated extracts from the Bible.

Are we really not capable of accepting our gay brothers and sisters, in spite of our insecurities? Is the thought of homosexuality so abhorent that we feel compelled to treat homosexuals like modern day lepers? Come on men! This is such a petty middle class indictment of our small mindedness. Surely the Good News contains something more transcendent and truthful than this message of damnation and judgement?

Surely the clarion call to ‘Repent’ was not followed closely by the qualification “All you Homosexuals.” Can we not trust God to do the judging, and apply our efforts to confronting our own hypocrisy, and admitting our own ’sins.’ Surely what two consenting adults do in the privacy of their bedroom has much less to do with the Good News than these misguided old fools seem to make out.

If God exists and loves me, then God must also love my gay friend or this misguided clergyman.

In the controversy surrounding the Olympic games, who’s coming and who isn’t, allegations of human rights abuses, etc, I thought I’d attempt a little controversy of my own in Beijing. What better way to put the the whole human rights abuses allegation to the test than to commit a few small human rights abuses and test by the reaction, to once and for all settle the matter?

Human Rights abuse # 1: Frotting on PT
Let me tell you, Beijing is a frotter’s paradise. In any city where huge numbers of people need to move around, and the designated public transport system is almost completely inadequate, the best time to bump uglies with, well anyone really, is during the start and finish of business hours. A word of caution though to you frotting freaks though, you may not have much control over whom you frot, because pretty much everyone is forced into some compromising positions on PT, whether they like it or not.

Human Rights abuse # 2: Boob Groping ain’t forbidden in the Forbidden City
On my way into the Forbidden city, the doors have some beautiful boob-shaped adornments all the way across, up and down. And for a door, it has a bloody great rack, except I’m not sure I’d really like to see any woman adorned with any more than two boobs. It may multiply the fun, but it’s just not natural.

Ok, so on the way in, everyone puts their hands on the door’s boobs, and it is supposed to bring luck. Really, it’s a great way to keep the brass boobs well polished. Only I forgot to, and fearing this would bring bad luck, I decided to grope the door on the way out. But one lucky punter was decidedly surprised when my hand may have momentarily alighted upon the wrong spherical ediface. But again, thanks to the crowds, I was able to get away largely unpunished, although no doubt this woman has suffered significant psychological damage as a result of my human rights test.

My sincerest apologies to her good and well, perky self. But really, I think the Government may be encouraging this sort of thing. After all, their new opera house bears no small resemblence to the aforementioned globulous mammory gland. So on both counts, China is a great place to commit acts of human indecency. But then again, has anybody travelled on the Frankston line in peak hour recently?

Prior to Kevin07’s arrival in Beijing this week, I took on the job of visiting as many of the night spots, massage parlours and illegal p*rn distributors, just to assess the level of service that could well be afforded to our PM. Just kidding, but I did take in the sights of Beijing.

In Tiannanmen Square, two flags are flying, the Chinese and another one, that looks a bit like ours… but it’s from New Zealand, who have just signed a free trade agreement with China. Hmm, and their PM doesn’t speak Mandarin.

But if you’re looking for some sort of monument at the Square, you’ll find lots of them, commemorating the People’s Republic of China, Chairman Mao’s life, and some lovely soviet-esque Strength Statues. You won’t find one that addresses the one issue that upsets many of the critics of China’s Olympic games.

But people in China are really excited about the Games. Here is China’s big chance to show itself off as a modern and free society. And apart from the censorship of dissent, it’s about as free and as fair as some of the best democracies, where Big Brother doesn’t tell you when he’s watching.

Most people object to the Olympics being used as a political football, as my tour guide told me yesterday. And if people around the world had chosen to turn out to protest Australia’s repeated neglect of Aborigines in the lead up to the Sydney Olympics, I daresay Australians would have shared the Chinese view about mixing sports and politics.

But the protests offend the sensibilities of the Chinese for a very good reason. Protest is not common in China, and people are reasonably fearful of the powerful powers that be.

Of late I have been very critical of Conservative Evangelical Christians, and I don’t want to continue to pillory the poor buggers. They have enough to contend with and I have my own battles to fight.I noticed in recent days that some members of a doomsday cult in Russia, who had been holding out in a cave, proclaiming that the end was nigh, have come out of the cave! The irony is that they are not the first cave dwellers to be coaxed out into the light. Plato once told a similar story.Personally, my background is in a less extreme cult, which meant that I spent most of my teenage years in the company of a select group of people. So I’m sorry if I’m a bit hard on Evangelicals. In my mind, literal belief does not equate particularly well with critical thought. And the risk is always that the weaker members of a community are susceptible to exploitation.This wasn’t my own experience, but I hope to be a little fairer to Evangelicals in the pages hereafter.

After being waylaid in Addis Ababa (some might describe it as being stranded), I finally brought myself to finish the official biography of John Anderson, a former Parliamentarian, leader of the National Party, and Deputy PM.

The book was interested for the first 5 pages, but after that, it was all tedium, and if it belonged to me, I would have given up reading, and started using the pages for toilet paper. It is the third political book I’ve read in as many weeks, and the best of the three was a biography of Hillary Clinton (A Woman in Charge) written by Carl Bernstein. Bernstein has researched his book extensively, and it is a credit to his writing that the book paints a fairly balanced portrait of the former first lady and now Candidate for the Presidential Race. It is a warts and all portrayal, describing in detail some of Hillary’s much publicized failings, as well as a sympathetic account of her early years, and her hardships during her husband’s Presidency.

Obama’s (ghost-written I suspect) Audacity of Hope is not a bad read, but it’s the kind of book you write if you’re trying to boost your profile without actually spending years advocating and voting on legislation. It did as much for me as I believe Obama will do for America. Hillary wrote a similar book called It takes a Village, and though I haven’t read it, I expect I would feel the same way about that book, on the reviews it received at the time.

Finally, John Anderson’s biography is as turgid as it is boring. Ando is a Capital C Conservative Christian. Big Deal. He has heaps of integrity, so the author Paul Gallagher keeps reminding us. He isn’t a natural fit in politics, ‘where everyone is a bit bent‘ he seems to say. At one point, I started to believe that John Anderson was actually the risen Lord, but alas, he wasn’t.

Actually a little bit of scandal would have made it worth reading. But instead, there’s no analysis or comment on Anderson’s thoughts on Howard’s hanging on like a long-dead turd to the sheep’s bum of the Prime Ministership. Nothing. In absence of anything interesting, the author quotes from speeches and Hansard. John Anderson’s biography is just a boring book about a boring politician that blathers on for far too many pages. Don’t read this book. Feed it to your neighbour’s dog.

The book is an insult to good writing, and it is a mark against the former Deputy PM’s better judgement that he would allow such a rabid and salivating puff piece to be published about him. But if you’re an Evangelical Christian, this book may well be for you. Take it home and put it on the same bookshelf as the Bible.

*I’m not comparing the happy clappy bunch to my neighbour’s dog. One man’s trash is another’s treasure.