Dancing Skeletons
From left to right: Gertrude Bell; Unknown man; T.E. Lawrence; Sir Herbert Samuel; Emir Abdullah; Sheik Majid Pasha Al-Adwani. April, 1921.
(Photograph from the papers of John D. Whiting, US Library of Congress)
.
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If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance. —G.B. Shaw
A friend sent me this photograph, wanting to know how I was related to Sheik Majid. After a bit of sleuthing, I established that Majid was the 2nd cousin of my great-grandfather…and there he is with Lawrence, a man I’ve never been much enamoured of.
Emir Abdullah Al-Hashemi, (later King of Jordan) working with T. E. Lawrence, played a key role as architect and planner of the Great Arab Revolt against Ottoman rule, leading guerrilla raids on garrisons and blowing up trains.
What I was unaware of was that a large contingent of the tribal levies that Emir Abdullah and his field commander (and brother) Faisal (played by Alec Guiness in David Lean’s film Lawrence of Arabia) depended on were Al-Adwani tribesman led by Sheik Majid.
I always knew that my family were (and are) prominent in Jordan1 and long-time allies of the Al-Hashemis (Jordan’s ruling family, formerly rulers of Mecca and the Hijaz until driven out by Abdul-Aziz ibn Saud) but I never realised that they’d fought with Lawrence and Faisal (who became, successively, King of Syria and King of Iraq). How embarrassing. Oh, well…nobody’s perfect.
Time for verse on the subject of exotic, reprehensible, inconvenient or disgraceful relatives.
1The government’s official spokesperson, Minister of State for Media Affairs and Communications Taher al-Adwani said, “Jordan definitely supports the Security Council Resolution on Libya, but it will not participate in any military action against it.”–AP
*I should point out that the ‘pasha’ part of Majid’s name is actually an honorific bestowed by the Ottomans (before, I suspect, he started blowing up their trains).
According to wiki: ‘Pasha or pascha, formerly bashaw, [Turkish: paşa] was a high rank in the Ottoman Empire political system, typically granted to governors, generals and dignitaries. As an honorary title, Pasha, in one of its various ranks, is equivalent to the British title of Lord, and was also one of the highest titles in pre-republican Egypt.’
**details of The John Whiting Collection and the collection itself can be seen HERE.
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politelyhomicidal.wordpress.com 
My grandfather would, for a laugh,
appear in people’s photographs.
He’s often next to men of fame
Who never even knew his name.
The picture done, then off he ran,
My grandfather, that “unknown man”.
His name wasn’t ‘Zelig’, by any chance?
A great new site for watching the latest releases (film and TV) for free, online. Basically, what these guys are doing is taking the latest pirated films/tv shows and streaming them.
Perfect for anyone who can’t wait for a film/tv show to be released/shown in the UK or anyone who wants to check if a film is worth the bother of going to see on a big-screen.
The site is a ‘.me’ address, which is Montenegro, where respect for US/UK copyright laws is perhaps somewhat less than might be considered ideal by the relevant authorities…ahem.
The site is called
TUBE+and the link is HEREFine work. Jeez but you’re quick, you tempestuous hellcat, you…
Thanks. All tempest, me. Hope you are feeling better; your erudition makes one forget your circumstances.
Would you mind changing “lord” to “lordship” please? [Done-Ed.]
Every day, in every way, I’m getting better and better (repeat 100 times on waking and 100 times before retiring). It’s true, though…I’ve always healed fast and it’s all coming along in leaps and bounds. I’m hoping to have my left arm out of plaster in a week or so (inshalla).
The leg takes about twice as long because you have to be certain that it’s completely knit as one puts so much strain on it, day to day, but I’ll still probably need knee-surgery; still need some jaw surgery and dental implants; ribs, collarbone, bone around the eye, skull fracture mostly healed; fractured and broken left hand to come out of plaster in a week or two; right hand (less damaged) already unplastered and in use; detached retina healed (thank God; that really had me worried but it wasn’t as badly detached as it might have been); internal injuries (punctured lung etc) mostly healed…
Aren’t you sorry you asked?
If anyone needed any incentive to vote ‘No’ to AV, this will provide it. 32 extra seats for that gang of unprincipled tossers? Ho-ho-ho…it is to laugh…
I’m not sorry at all. I could send you some distance healing (reiki) – “reiki, Reine??” (lol) – but you seem to be getting along wonderfully under your own steam. Something tells me you might not be a reiki believer (I wasn’t myself, sort of fell into it).
I have great admiration for your tenacity and outlook. I have to have an MRI on Thursday, nothing serious just to confirm a suspected trapped nerve in my back. I hate the thought of it though. I should be glad that’s all that’s wrong. You are a lesson to us all.
Delighted to hear you are on the mend. x
About 16 years ago, a friend of mine was persuaded (by her sister) into doing a rieki course. Quite expensive it all was, too. I had a hard time containing my scorn when she explained it to me (I’d never heard of reiki).
In fact, I had a hard time keeping a straight face. Of course, she knew me and said ‘oh, I know you think it’s nonsense but I think there’s something to it and anyway, people pay a lot of money for reiki healing sessions’.
Her sister had some kind of ‘alternative healing’ studio and wanted my pal to come in with her. She gave it up after a few months because, frankly, the absurdity of it all was just too much for her naturally healthy scepticism. Sorry. Hope your trapped nerve is freed with a single bound…
Well, I’m glad my instincts are still right. Thanks; what does one wear to an MRI… that’s my biggest worry. ha.
The lead ball gown is out, I think…something diaphanous will probably suit.
Earplugs. And you may want to be prepared with some valium in your kit, Re. I hear MRI is like being in an oil drum while it’s being beaten with a mallet. You should be able to have music…
Especially delighted to hear your retina has healed, M. Had me worried too.
Oil drum,mallet – is this supposed to comfort? I had two Xanax left over from a massive prescription of five when I had severe back pain some years ago. I cut them in half to make them last longer but I used the last on my most recent visit to the inlaws.
Oof, sorry. I suppose the comfort to me would be in going prepared. This is a good excuse to ask for a new prescription in advance, because once you’re there, the techs can’t just hand over a dose.
I’m not suggesting it’s beyond you to cope, Re, but I’d make it as low stress as possible given the chance. This is all hearsay, by the way… *hastily touching wood*
We’re going out to see Inside Job.
Better take some blood pressure medication before you go. Inside Job had the steam bubbling in my gauges, even though I was completely familiar with the whole seedy narrative.
The most infuriating thing about it all is that it’s back to ‘business as usual’ for the worthless pricks who caused the financial collapse. Not only that, but that useless bastard Obama has appointed most of them to his administration. Christ, talk about setting foxes to guard the hen-house…
A strong anti-emetic would have been good to have on hand for listening to so many hardened criminal sociopaths in one go. They couldn’t even consider conflict of interest, never mind the contempt entailed for the fate of Everyman.
What do we say to our kids… ‘with such and such a privilege comes a responsibility’. How do former human beings mutate into such venal creatures? Perhaps by insulating themselves in that deregulated incestuous unreality? and then becoming addicted to the adrenaline of false risk? That’s even harder for me to comprehend than the financial shell-game.
I thought I was looking at a nest of cold snakes, but snakes are far too exquisite and modestly-adapted to deserve such scorn. Christus. Even maggots are more service-minded.
Strong family resemblance between those Al-Adwani photos, Mishari. No wonder your friend suspected a connection.
The naughtiest brats of Eaglebrook School
were brothers: Abdullah and Faisal.
Bodyguards followed them everywhere
to protect them from reprisal.
Everyone thought they’d have a bad end,
but what did fortune bring?
They returned home from the East to the East
and now one of them is a King.
Cousin Jimmy
They called him Jimmy The Hands
No prizes for guessing why
At every soirée he attended
He made the ladies cry
He’d a knack for spilling whiskey
Down the front of a lady’s blouse
He’d take out his hanky to dry her off
Cleavage wet from his carouse
When fingering the canapés
He’d trail a lemon wedge
And let his fingers brush against
The breast at the platter’s edge
He littered carpets on purpose
Knowing that his hostesses
Would bend to clear the detritus
And he’d lift up their dresses
His favourite move was one which
He’d perfected through the years
Two hands on their bottom cheeks
As he whispered in their ears
“Breathe a word, and he’ll lose his job,
Nothing gets past me
So smile and thank me for the wine
You really are lovely”
Jimmy the Hands was a black sheep
No one dared to speak his name
Until news came that he’d choked to death
On a cocktail stick, the shame.
Oh, sorry, “their” dresses end verse 4. Thanks.
Thanks Hic, I do appreciate the advice. I’d prefer to have an MRI every day though than see Inside Job. We went to the cinema for a romantic afternoon out a couple of months ago – he went into one screen to watch Inside Job and I went into another to watch Biutiful. Hope you enjoyed the outing though.
Hooda thunk? Hugh Grant writing for The New Statesman, well transcribing mostly, it turns out:
http://www.newstatesman.com/newspapers/2011/04/phone-yeah-cameron-murdoch
I wouldn’t have gone far to see it, but we have a wonderful local indie cinema, so I allowed myself to be coaxed. It was under-attended, and when we arrived nearly everyone there were friends of ours, as if we’d planned a private party.
I make an effort to support this place, since they get things the big multis won’t bother with, and it’s 5 minutes from home. Haven’t seen Biutiful, but there was a preview for Certified Copy, and I seem to remember you liked that?
Not to say I ever accepted that it was negligible…
http://www.euractiv.com/en/health/radiation-risks-fukushima-longer-negligible-news-503947
“Spinach, salads, cabbage and other vegetables with large surface areas are among those food products that are particularly sensitive to iodine-131 contamination, if they are cultivated outside and exposed to rainwater. Washing vegetables does not help, as iodine-131 is quickly metabolised by the plants, CRIIRAD notes.
Fresh milk and creamy cheeses, as well as meat from cattle that have been outside eating grass, are categorised as foods that may have been indirectly contaminated and must also be monitored. Contamination of milk and cheese from goats and sheep may be of a greater magnitude than that of produce from cows….”
Inside Job?
I downloaded it. Well worth seeing, I thought.Some advice needed:
I’ve been invited to Mubarak’s house for lunch on Friday. He will send his driver to collect me and I am to admire his date trees and meet his family. I know this is unusual in Qatar, where male guests usually stay in the مجلس, and do not see the women of the house. I am in a quandary though: what do I take? A bottle of wine is obviously out of the question, and flowers for the lady of the house almost certainly unacceptable. I am told that to bring sweets could be insulting, meaning that I did not think my host’s hospitality would be sufficient, but just to turn up with nothing seems wrong; if anyone (Meister) has any suggestions I’d be glad to hear them.
How about this…
http://www.mwctoys.com/REVIEW_060208a.htm
I understand your quandary, Simon, but you have to understand that the host/guest dynamic is very different in the Arab world. As a guest, it is your obligation to enjoy your hosts hospitality, nothing more. As you were informed, to bring something edible, no matter how well-intentioned could be construed as an insult. As it’s a luncheon invitation, you need bring nothing but your good self and a determination to eat heartily of whatever’s put in front of you.
If it had been a birthday invitation or an Eid invitation, a gift of some sort would be appropriate. An invitation to eat requires that you merely turn up and make yourself agreeable. If you’re amusing to boot, you’ll have discharged your obligation admirably. Having said that, I’m sure it would afford your friend Mubarak and his family some harmless amusement if you told him of your quandary and apologised for any infelicity on your part. Good manners are always appreciated.
Of course, if Mubarak’s a smoker, you could take THIS : casually light a fag with it and when he expresses admiration, insist that he have it…that’s the Arab way.
That’s a splendid suggestion, HLM, and from Walmart too…
Thanks, Mish. Unfortunately I use these for my fags; the website is as classy as Cartier’s but the product is not. Do you think I’d get away with painting a bit of gold leaf on?
It rained today, quite heavily, and the students all begged to skip 15 minutes of class to step outside and see this unprecedented event. Rain in April!? The world’s going mad.
Simon, you devil, need a plus one? I could fashion a hasty outfit and get some duty free.
Hi Henry x
Hic, I liked Certified Copy in a qualified way. It’s very stylised but certainly worth a watch. The cinema we go to is part of a small European network of arthouse-type places and is in danger of closing down because the landlord has doubled the rent from 100,000 to 200,000 per annum.
Rain here too but what’s new?
Good evening Mishari. (That’s everyone covered isn’t it?)
hola Obooki, missed you out there at the top.
Raining buckets here.
Sounds like time for your art-house to move shop, Re. I hope it won’t shut down.
How did you happen to receive such an intriguing invitation, I wonder, Si?
I met an Egyptian on Sunday, not a frequent occurrence (bringing my total acquaintance to 2).
With music playing, I thought he said his name was ‘Fuzzle’ which seemed wrong somehow,
so I asked again: ‘Faisal?’ because names just blow right past me if I don’t really grasp them.
So he absolutely barked at me ‘Fuzel!’
Later, I apologised. I suppose quizzing people on names may not be the ‘Arab Way’. Fuzel became much less defensive when he realised I was ignorant rather than hostile, and we chatted a bit more about where he’d come from and whether he knew my one other Egyptian… He was lovely really, but poor fellow must have a lot to put up with around here.
So, I was already thinking of ‘Faisal’ just before this thread. I do enjoy concurrences like that.
In fact, Reine, I just had mail about Google +1 … speaking of plus one.
Something to consume free Internet minutes with:
http://www.damninteresting.com/
I kid ye not, we had a business studies teacher who made us all bring in bananas to class to use as proxy telephones in a telephone skills exercise. “Good hard ones girls, we’ll need them for two days”. What laughs. Great mirth when my friend Kathy was unable to answer her phone because she had eaten it and so just mouthed “beep, beep, beep” to indicate its disconnection. Innocent days. I am still tempted to say “Good afternoon, Miss Jordan’s class, how may I help you?” every time I pick up a banana.
The Captaine Neede has made a sort of ME pastiche for PP.
My favourite bit:
‘What menestow, ladye, to be unkynde?’
…killing myself just now (though this chablye may be to blayme)…
It’s a super piece but there’s grief a coming for Sir Leonard.
We shall see, Reine, we shall see.
That JingleheimerFinn ain’t bad at all. There’s something familiar about the style, though. I wonder if it isn’t a certain identity-juggling old friend of ours… Good to see him back, if my hunch is right. If it’s not, I hope there’s plenty more to come anyway.
Yes, Jingly is certainly a talent. Duvernay is another comeback I think; I said as much last night and my comment was deleted even though it was not remotely provocative. What a marvellous and well deserved tribute you pay Hic. I loved that phrase “time-ago street” too. She is a talented lady, our Hic.
O Captain, my Captain!
O Reine, my Reine!
I’m quite overcome by this most generous display of approbation. I’d like to carry a small phial of it around my neck, against those moments when all is futile.
If I recall, Pooh Bear may have had such a feeling when he realised ‘the party was for him’, and came over all beside himself.
Thank you, Dears.
Missed the Duvernay episode altogether, but of course I too recognise JFSprocketYolks *sigh*
Oh speaking of… I had my first ride of the season today, as it was the first lovely day I was free, and dedicated it to our valiant gear-head host. Glorious Spring has arrived in New England.
With that left eye back on line Mishari, I’m delighted to anticipate you’ll ride again.
Everyone busy with kissing demonstrations today?
We watched the Tailor of Panama last night, Re, per M’s recommendation. You should give it another go: farcical, some very funny lines, and not violent.
Beloved Spouse, who likes shiny potboilers, thought it didn’t seem like le Carre at all, but I wouldn’t know…
I’d never seen Brosnan do any thing other than pose and smirk, but he was quite hilarious as the rake. GRush was charming as usual.
Hi girlfriend. The boys are obviously missing each other, which is not to say we are not missing them. I did quite a bit of kissing yesterday actually for one reason or another, but was out late in town and so not blog-proficient by the time I got home. Will definitely watch the film, thanks. I have had a secret admiration for Brosnan since his Remington Steele days (in my defence I was only a young teenager) although he often overworks the eyebrows.
He was overworking the *ahem* fundament in this one, but has very nice hands I see.
The Lord save us, I tell a lie. I see I made a brief comment on PotW, of which I had absolutely no recollection. Cinderella was obviously a bit the worse for wear.
BOO!
Today…
I walked Killiney Beach, bought an emerald green dress at a vintage fair and made a rhubarb and blueberry clafoutis for dessert.
On the beach we witnessed some kind of ritual immersion in the sea of several women of all ages attired in white robes by two men wearing blue ones. Too far away to hear what was said and didn’t want to appear to be obviously rubbernecking, although we were. They were watched by their families/friends, a sizeable crowd of men, women and children who videoed the proceedings. A celebratory air about the occasion and they set up buffet tables afterwards in the car park for lunch. HI whizzed off in the car before I had a proper chance to see what was on offer. I think he was afraid I was going to put chat on them.
Then, much to his dismay as we drove home through Dún Laoghaire, I saw there was a vintage clothes fair on in one of the hotels. These affairs are his idea of hell – first, for the problems involved in finding parking in an overcrowded car park with access and egress through the same channel and, second, for having to mill about in a packed function room full of stallholders and aggressive women shouldering each other out of the way to look at some prize find or other. Anyway, he must have been in benevolent mood for he parked without too much swearing after a nine point turn and then went off to the cash machine for me when I clapped eyes on the dress and had my Rapunzel moment.
Hugh Fearnley “kerching, kerching” Whittington (sic) made a blueberry clafoutis recently on his tele programme so I saw his blueberries and raised him some rhubarb and a rhubarb and orange reduction on the side. It ain’t River Cottage here but, hey, I do what I can.
I hope everyone is well. I look forward to MM’s return and its hoped-for domino effect. “Abyssinia”
Evening all…glad you enjoyed The Tailor of Panama, hic. Did you spot Harold Pinter as the ghost of Geoffrey Rush’s Uncle? Sorry I haven’t been posting but I was away for the weekend. Inez thought a trip to Paris would do me good: it is nice in spring.
Nice to see you back glorious leader. Hope you are revived post Paris or at least happy wrecked.
Thanks, Reine…it cheered me up to find that I can get around reasonably well (all things considered). Paris doesn’t change much..I marvel at how lovely it can be; despair at Parisian manners; eat a few really good meals and a few that make me wonder how the French ever gained a reputation for culinary excellence…I usually visit the Musée d’Orsay to refresh the spirit and contemplate the uses that a redundant railway station might be put to, but didn’t this time: too many stairs.
We’ve pretty much decided to move there permanently but the children want to finish the school year here (in London) first. Can’t bear much more of Cameron’s Britain and with any luck, that vulgar oaf Sarkozy will get the boot next year.
The d’Orsay is really lovely. You will be bounding up the steps there soon DV (as the nuns used to say or VD as we used to).
DV being the exact equivalent of Arabic inshalla (God Willing). Rhubarb and blueberry (and orange) sounds like a good combination. I’ve always liked rhubarb, that tartness and the sort of melting texture. Odd how many people don’t care for it…
grandmother made rhubarb pie, from the rhubarb in her garden (he said, unafraid to be dull), every year when I was whelp; still a favorite
You can’t beat a tart. Clafoutis, shmamoutis.
In Irish “le cúnamh Dé” *- with the help of God, usually uttered in a “well, good luck with that but you haven’t a hope in hell” tone.
*leh koon-ooh (or “koon-ave” depending on location) Jay.
I love rhubarb but you’re right many people get very exercised in damning it. I stewed the rhubarb initially with some sugar to take some of the harsh bitterness out and to the rhubarb juices added the juice and zest of an orange, which made a rather nice sauce after slow simmering (I may write to Hugh about this as he didn’t have any such embellishment). The clafoutis itself was a bit eggy for my tastes but it looked very pretty with its pink rhubarb and heat-burst blueberries nestled into its surface. Hark at me coming over all Nigel/la.
News from each of you two tops off an excellent day. I do remember a Pinter cameo in the T of P.
Thanks for pointing it out. [hand gesture passing over head]
We watched The Lives of Others the next night, which I also enjoyed. We were having a childless week, so gave Doc Martin a rest.
I looked for rhubarb today at Whole Foods, but no joy as yet. I make a rhubarb custard pie, which is the favourite among family, extended family, even people who don’t believe they like rhubarb. I never make anything else out of the stuff because of the pie mandate. My father has it in June for his birthday ‘cake’.
I’d like to grow rhubarb, but I’m not sure how it starts… probably need to pinch some from a friend.
I see we have a new theme, and I’ve not managed to do justice to this last one. Well, I’m required below-stairs, so will turn my attention to it tomorrow.
Lovely to find you both. xx