Don’t be cheap

“I’m not rich enough to buy cheap” -Old Proverb

I’m driving my car deep in thought. As my hand unconsciously caresses the hand crafted German wooden steering wheel and the smell of perfectly designed leather fills my nostrils I look outside at a deteriorating infrastructure. Small potholes don’t affect my air suspension. Exhaust fumes are blocked by my carbon filter and the quiet compressor blows cool scented air on my face. Sharp crisp beats from my American iphone effortlessly pump out of my Japanese sound system as if by magic; amazing Bluetooth technology developed in some distant land.

Crumbling buildings and rusty lights on my right. A playground with a horse missing from one side of the animal seesaw, and a swing set with no swings mock two children trying to play. They end up chasing each other around abandoned rusting equipment. I step on the gas and the Bavarian engine effortlessly takes me from 40 to 100 km/h with a gentle purr. On my right, I see patches of yellow grass with some lone green survivors trying to make it through the week with no water. The public building behind them gave up already and shed its full coat of paint: The exposed drab grey shell peers sadly at me through dusty windows begging for attention. Inside leaky faucets mimic its tears as they quietly drip unnoticed into the drain, wasting thousands of gallons of water. Underneath a faded sticker says “made in China”.

As I look at buildings, malls, lights, and public bathrooms all over Bahrain I notice a dangerous drop in quality. Fresh signs are burnt brown by the sun within months. New buildings have rusty pipes on the outside and their wall paint cracking. Even new street lights installed by the government show signs of yellowing covers and rust, as they stand next to their 70’s counterparts who are still standing tall and strong and silver.

There’s a new shift in the mentality brought about by the surge of Chinese products flooding the market. Now all we care about is price. We want the cheapest, and we want it NOW. Quality is a distant afterthought. It’s about a quick buck in a quick world where there’s a new product every second that promises to perform the same:  But it doesn’t. Neither does a team of cheap imported labor who claim they can build a wall the same as a crew of certified professional masons. Low prices are a trap for the weak, and this is a trap we must be very careful not to fall into.

We may save a few hundred fils buying cheaper paint or screws. But that paint won’t last long and those screws will rust. Small things like that affect the total quality of a project and before you know it you’re paying hundreds if not thousands of Dinars to renovate the item again. We should also stop to consider the time and effort wasted on maintenance instead of progress. I find myself shopping for equipment for my business at unrealistic prices. “Too good to be true deals” are very often too good to be true, and I have found myself replacing them way earlier than their original lifespan is meant to end. I have personally lost a lot of money buying cheap items. Government tenders have sadly also shifted towards price more than specifications.

Government agents and private firms alike: Always buy quality. Never buy cheap, you will always regret it. And since Bahrain is undergoing austerity measures spending less isn’t necessarily saving us money, because I am sure we will eventually either have a crumbling infrastructure (with no funds to maintain it) or we will spend much more on maintenance and end up spending more than we initially saved. So don’t be cheap, we’re not rich enough.

Can we lead?

“A single arrow is easily broken but not ten in a bundle” -Japanese Proverb

If I pointed at India thirty years ago and said they would be the world leaders in technology I would have been laughed at and considered a joke. If I pointed at China and said they would be leaders of industry twenty years ago I might have been sent to a mental asylum. It’s strange how some countries are just meant for some things. Their brains are wired in a specific way, or their bodies built in a certain shape. Their culture, work ethic, upbringing, family bonds, market conditions, and many other twists of fate along the evolutionary path led them to this point. They also must have government support and foresight, education, and most importantly a culture of cooperation and optimism.

This brings to mind the lack of local IT development in Bahrain. Although we have sporadic successful companies it could be so much more. As I walk the corridors of coaching and entrepreneurship of this tiny island I find many bright young minds with a lot of potential. I see pioneers with passion and a laptop, and groups of students with sizzling ideas. But I also see missing elements like an optimistic supportive fostering culture of encouragement and belief, and a strong pillar of technological education in our public schools. I also see a complete lack of interest to permeate the English language into the new generation of Bahrainis.

It’s a strange thing to see people support strangers but not have much encouragement for those close to them. It’s a very weird phenomenon, but it exists very strongly in Bahrain for some unexplainable reason. In Japan students are taught at a very early age to be responsible for their classroom and class-mates by working as a team and making sure their classroom and school are spotless. The success of the group depends on their ability to work together. Yes, there will also be jealousy and envy, but the Japanese have somehow managed to harness that into healthy competition with mutual respect; and have made the good of the group a priority to the good of the individual. That amazing culture is reflected in their technology and passion to be the best. The Indians are also a sharing community, and that non-competitiveness has allowed them to teach each other technology and it has spread like wildfire. We need to instill these kinds of ideals early in the classrooms instead of teaching divisive issues that taint the young generation.

In my case, growing up in a private school in Bahrain luckily English was at the forefront, and all the subjects were in English: Math, physics, chemistry, history etc.  The only subject in Arabic was Arabic. We grew up learning about the world through American eyes, and what a world it is. Most importantly today we can communicate with the globe on the same level, so when we talk to companies, entrepreneurs, bosses, or anyone else we speak the same language. We don’t simply grasp English, but we communicate at the same wavelength: The language of technology. Furthermore, it’s easy to learn programming since all codes are in English. In the United States, elementary students are taught coding. Imagine, 7 or 8 years old writing in the language of computers. And the reason they teach it may surprise you; it’s called computational thinking. So they teach it not just for the kids to be IT literate, but for them to have problem-solving capabilities across all disciples including math, science, and the humanities. Obama made it his mission to have every single school teach computer science (CS). In Bahrain unfortunately most 7 year-olds don’t know what coding even means.

We may have a few bright sparks in Bahrain who learnt English and coding by themselves, but for us to unlock the potential of this paradise island we’re going to need to instill core values and principles that shape the culture of the next generation. Luckily, most are growing up with a mobile or i-pad next to them but the culture of cooperation is still lacking. Governmental support needs to start with the children, and then we can have a better rate of return on our investments. Start-ups are already a tricky venture (1 out of 10 succeeds), so let’s get more bang for our buck and focus on the new generation of IT. Bahraini’s definitely are smart so you never know, Bahrain could be the next India of the Arab world.

Aim Forward

“You cannot escape the responsibility of tomorrow by evading it today.” Abraham Lincoln

I walk out of my house greeted by a huge bright full moon. The chill fall air teases its way around my body and tickles the back of my neck as I shiver from its touch.” A t-shirt is not enough” I think to myself as I pull on my hoodie and snuggle into the soft cotton. I’m surprised to hear shouting in the distance, as if there was a football match. The stadium is too far to be heard. Besides, I thought the season is still a few months away. The cacophony gets louder and more frenzied and the man begins shouting with anger, fury, and a twist of mournful sadness as his voice rises and falls in the cold autumn wind. “Oh, it’s just a mosque in the village” I mumble to myself as I step towards my car. I drive towards the petrol station and discover the village transformed into a festival of sorts, but not a happy one. I’m surrounded by black flags and images of a man being killed quite violently. I see blood, mannequins, and war scenes all around me. Some pretty graphic stuff for children and I wonder how they got permission to be erected. Colored flags of war don the roofs of houses in defiance, challenging the legitimacy of my country and I wonder how much is too much.

I grew up with the beautiful sounds of Islam surrounding me. Gorgeous voices announcing daybreak, and mournful lullabies crooning it back to sleep at dusk. A final hurrah as we face the darkness and hope to see the light again. Each mosque beautiful in its own way, with its own congregation from the community meeting and tightening bonds as they pray. Children inevitably playing football in the mosque parking lots and joining each prayer acting like men. These mosques have charity work around the year and feed the hungry during Ramadan. They would be packed during Eid prayers and never be empty for a day, let alone an hour. Truly a shelter for any man, and a pillar of the community. True to their purpose: They would spread love, tolerance, and peace to their communities. Well, most of them anyway.

I’m not sure where the preachers learn to preach, but I know that they must now get accredited by the Supreme Council for Islamic Affairs and are monitored closely. I think they still need to be watched closer. The educated speak in a calm voice, using logic and reason as their tools. They allow their words to do the fighting for them, and don’t need to raise their tone to arouse feeling or emotion. The extremist preachers shout and scream in a way that stirs the blood no matter who the audience. They manipulate the airwaves in such a way that any listener gets scared and confused about the future of their soul. Their voices go up and down threatening people with hell and the devil. Other manipulators cry over the death of someone a thousand years ago. Children are often panicked and grow up with a sense of guilt and anger: And that’s where the danger is. The youth are excitable, vulnerable, and gullible; and can easily be trapped as pawns in some dangerous games. Maybe we should allow them the option to choose exposure to their faith as opposed to them being forced into it.

Maybe they don’t have to be bombarded by loudspeakers. Maybe they don’t have to see it in the streets all the time. Maybe we can think about keeping religion where it belongs; in the places of worship. What is this barbaric belief that clerics’ versions of Islam should be rammed down the throats of the community? If they are peaceful, happy, loving signs then there is no problem. My problem is with the undertone of violence in the speeches and images in these areas.

Secondly, maybe we can focus on building these children and expanding their horizons? Maybe they can be busy with bettering themselves using science, innovation, sports, or even starting their own little businesses. If they are busy working on themselves, they won’t heed the calls of mad men. There are many amazing programs that can occupy the youth today and we are all working together to build the future generation. Maybe it would help if we can nudge the fanatics back a little. Maybe we can open minds instead of close them. Let’s aim forward, so we don’t get stuck in the trap of the past.

You are what you eat

“Citizenship consists in the service of the country” – Jawaharial Nehru

The recent denaturalization of a prominent antigovernment instigator got me thinking about the structure of Bahrain. This cleric was originally from Iran and naturalized as a Bahraini citizen in 1962 and has ever since led a fiery campaign against open minded social reform, democracy, and progression. In the 1970’s he vowed to burn down all clinics when the minister of health introduced male doctors to give birth, as well as effectively shot down every pro-women’s legislation attempted by Jafaari movements. He was a member of the original parliament in 1973 as an “Islamist” and that’s what democracy is all about but he problem is when democracy turns to theocracy and when freedom of choice turns to freedom of force.

However, the “stripping of citizenship” is also legal as a penalty for actions considered criminal by the state, or when the subject collaborates with foreign countries and governments against his own. Apparently this man was collaborating with Iran and was found with $10 million in his personal account. This problem doesn’t begin nor end with this man, it’s much deeper than that. Bahrain needs to be very careful about who we give a nationality to.

According to Wikipedia, a society “is a group of people involved in persistent social interaction, and can enable its members to benefit in ways that would not otherwise be possible on an individual basis.” That means that members of a successful society gain more because of brilliant individual components, each supporting the other. We need to be extremely cautious when introducing new components because foreign ideals can sometimes corrupt or even destroy an ecosystem trying to thrive, and since our past was based on growth and development we know that a successful model exists in Bahrain to a certain degree. Does it need refinement and improvement? Yes, and that’s up to us.

Generally, countries provide citizenship to those who can prove they are lawful, understand the language and culture of the country, and are beneficial to society. In Germany applicants are required to have studied in a local school for at least 6 years, graduate from a local institution, and even speak German. In Japan, not only must they have sufficient capital or skills to support themselves, but they must also choose a legal name, like other Japanese, that consists of all or any mix of Japanese hiragana, katakana, and approved kanji. That means if their name is originally Mohammed for example, it must now be something like Naruto; that’s the level of dedication required to be integrated into the Japanese culture (and what a magnificent culture it is). In the United States one is required to know some history and government, the national anthem, and have been living with a green card legally for 5 years (and it’s hard to get a green card). You need to literally sing for your passport.

In Bahrain you must have either lived in Bahrain for 15-25 years, or have knowledge of the Arabic language, or have real estate under your name, or not be a criminal and have a good reputation. These are the four ways you can get a nationality. It seems a little simple and outdated to me, and I wish we had tighter more specific guidelines with a stronger background check so that we can introduce beneficial members of society that help us lead my dear island to a better brighter future.

We’ve already seen how degenerative one naturalized man can be, as his words led to so much unnecessary violence and the destruction of so many young men’s futures.  I’m also starting to hear more and more about naturalized citizens being aggressive with locals, fighting in high school graduations, hospitals, and schools. Gangs of naturalized young men attacking local Bahrainis. This sounds like a dangerous phenomenon that needs to be looked into and addressed seriously. I hope we can plug the leak of local talent (many of the best and brightest have left to neighboring countries), and make sure that every new applicant is worthy of being here, whether they speak Arabic or not. You are what you eat, and Bahrain has indigestion at the moment so let’s find a better diet.

The strength of strength

“Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will” -Mahatma Ghandi

People dream of democracy as the cure to everything as if it’s the magical potion to end all evils. If everyone could rule together as a majority their voices would speak truth, justice, and supreme morality. Their collective cacophony would sound like a choir of angels singing in the clouds. Well what if that choir isn’t trained to sing? How would it sound then? Would it sound like a herd of sheep, each voice bleating to its own pace and rhythm? Would it sound like a gaggle of ducks in a pond, each making random quacking noises as it looks around for a mate? I’m not sure but I’ve heard a room full of people, and I have a feeling it would sound something like that. Unless you live in our part of the world, then it would have sporadic shouts and chants.

As I scroll through Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram I’m bombarded by entitled opinionated individuals who mostly have no clue what they’re talking about or just reposting something probably created by a bored thirteen year-old sitting in his room as he munches on a cheese sandwich his mommy made. Wise quotes and funny memes alike. Political rants and Islamic chants. Does anyone really know what they’re talking about? All these emotions and courage fueled by the anonymity of the screen. Anyone can be a giant when they’re hiding under the blanket spouting ten tweets per hour. Gone are the days when a man (or woman) had to step out in the open and take responsibility for their words. All of a sudden everyone’s an expert, even though they’ve never really done anything special. Social media shows me how dangerous democracy can be, because we can all definitely disagree to disagree in our part of the world.

As people forget their main purpose in life and congregate around random events wasting emotions and breath over issues beyond their control or comprehension I look back into our recent past and wipe a tear from my eye. We used to be busy working for a better life, trying to improve ourselves through education or volunteer work. We used to visit our friends and have time at night to visit our parents and families. Some would focus on science, technology or writing. Our minds were calm and uncluttered. Life was clear and simple and everyone had their role. Now everyone seems to be an expert at politics, religion, philosophy, and even medicine and thermodynamics sometimes. If you gave them the country they could run it tomorrow no problem! Yeah right. We saw what even the mighty British did to their economy and country when given the choice. Brexit will prove the largest disaster in their modern history.

There were many attempted coups in our region in the past few years and the only true proven symbol of leadership was strength. Sustainability. As Erdogan was surrounded by an army he faced it on his mobile phone and beat it with his will (strength). In Bahrain there was an attempt to overthrow our government and our leaders beat it in the same way; with their strength. Today, all those who attempted to seize power just proved one thing: They didn’t have the strength nor political intelligence needed to rule, and ruling is definitely a difficult endeavor, democracy or not.

Where are they now? They all had opportunities to take power and share it with others but their greed, intolerance, shortsightedness, and inability to distinguish strength from force was their downfall. Strength doesn’t mean using force all the time. A strong person only has to persevere, exist, and remain to win. That is what many failed to realize as their attempted coups and takeovers crashed and burned. I’m glad we have seasoned leaders with the strength and will to survive, because it’s that will that provides security and stability to Bahrain. The loss of Saddam Hussein proved this in Iraq as now hundreds of thousands have been killed and displaced. He was an evil dictator they said. Well, he was a great dictator who paid the price with his conscience and he had to make many hard decisions to keep his country safe, as many realize today. Only it’s too late.

Now all we can hear is the bleating of too many lambs, too many ducks, or too many AK 47’s to even hear a logical voice until another voice of strength emerges to tame this harsh landscape we live in. I just hope it’s a tolerant open-minded strength like that of Bahrain where anyone can live out his life as he pleases with no clerics breathing down his neck. Strength is strength, and more power to our strong.

 

Time to heal

“The introduction of politics into religion is the prostitution of true religion” -Lord Hailsham

The small boy opens his eyes in a dimly lit room as the warm nightlight casts long shadows of his soft toys and crib on the nursery wall. He recognizes the smell and croon of his doting mother and leans in to nuzzle from her warm breast. As warm milk drips into his mouth her soft song of love mixed with Islamic prayer wash over him like a river, and the cocoon of warmth and incantations lull him back to the land of dreams. The boy awakes later and finds a Quran under his pillow and sees his father kneel in prayer from his crib. He awkwardly imitates him (as any boy would) and does his own clumsy version of putting his head on the ground as his father notices and smothers a laugh trying to focus on his task.

This is the foundation of Islam in most homes in Bahrain. As the young men and women who grow up with this loving religion a major part of their lives one can’t ignore the fact that it’s intertwined in every aspect; from home to school to public. And as the holy month of Ramadan descends upon us it becomes even more apparent as everyone’s sleeping and eating patterns are in sync; and those not fasting feel left out of something special and wonderful: Such is the true power of Islam.

Islam is the only major religion truly designed to eliminate the middleman (Priest, Cleric etc.) by giving followers the steps of how to pray at home with all the instructions needed. The Quran is truly a comprehensive guide that answers all questions but somehow once again man has managed to insert himself into the equation; interpreting at his own whim, and even imposing his ideals on swathes of his followers. A man with no point using religion as a lever. And the true believer follows blindly. Love turns into hate. Young men’s lives are ruined.

The sad reality is that certain groups have criminally hijacked this loving religion to their selfish political gain, and our government has finally taken the first tangible step to disentangle politics from religion. As many already know several key religious/political groups have been shut down, and with good reason. The banished political societies were purely sectarian racist misguided groups of lost men. Their followers were only to be from a certain sect and mind-frame and they shunned anyone who applied from a different background. The largest tried destabilizing the country by collectively quitting from their 20 or so seats in Parliament a few years ago. They showed their true colors and condoned violence instead of begging people to show restraint and using their positions to peacefully protest against policy. They had a golden chance to heal Bahrain peacefully and gain so much. Instead they squandered everything and threw their people headfirst into the fire. I’m thankful they failed because they had no clue about leadership nor had intention for peace as they clearly demonstrated (and continue to do so daily). It seems they confused “freedom of speech” with “freedom of violence”.

So the love grown in the hearts of people was ironically used to fuel a sectarian war, and the love is gone so what happens next? Of course we’ll see an initial uproar in the streets, but from now on people involved in politics will be guided by their brains and not their hearts, and any political/Islamic organization that wants to exist will be forced underground; living in criminality.

Let’s be clear: Nobody has a problem with a regular political society objecting to policies, laws, and even the governing system, as long as it’s peaceful and logical. Speak your mind and agree to disagree if you like, find creative ways to protest peacefully, and gather as many followers as you like. More power to you if they’re from different backgrounds.

I hope the future brings new political societies not blinded by race, sect, creed, and those that focus only on one thing: Logic. Finally we can begin removing the poison. Finally we can start healing our wounds. Finally Islam can stay where it belongs: In the mosque. Finally those who have led my brothers astray will pay. Finally those who drove a wedge into my Bahrain and created a rift will be taken away. Finally Bahrain can heal.

The Stray Fisherman

A long time ago, far away in a distant Arab land a weak setting sun cast its final rays upon a small wrinkled fisherman tying his boat for the night. As Babu unpacked the fishing nets he stared blankly at his meager haul and let out a small sad sigh. Just two safis and a random crab (that had unluckily been caught trying to nibble on the dead fish) were looking up at him sadly from the bottom of the bucket. The crab looked like it was hoping for a miracle as it crouched between the seaweed with its claws held tight against its body, eyes darting sideways. “It’s your lucky day” whispered Babu, as he picked it up and eased it into the water. The crab squirted happily to the bottom of the sea, surviving to live another day. The two pathetic safis glared up with their dead eyes; angry they couldn’t share the same fate. Since there wasn’t enough for the market Babu decided he would share these two fish with his six flat mates, and his family back home would have to forgive him for the unlucky catch. Besides, with this heatwave there were no fish to be found. He would still have to pay his monthly dues whether he caught anything or not, and he thought of all the debts accumulating here and back in Kerala. His daughter also needed a school uniform since she outgrew the dress she inherited from her cousin.

Babu covered the boat with his tarp and carefully wrapped the two small fish in some plastic he found on the beach and put them inside his tattered shirt. His stomach growled as he imagined adding some black lemon and masala to these fish and frying them. He hoped there was some chapatee left from last night as he was too tired to make fresh ones again. As he tiredly trudged down the quiet alleyway of this tiny village towards his shared accommodation the sun slunk under the horizon reflecting his mood. He wished he could disappear quietly as well. Abdulla his sponsor had him gripped in a tight vice of perpetual debt and had his passport held hostage. The Indian loan shark he borrowed money from to buy his nets seemed to increase interest rates on a whim, and now commanded a third of every haul Babu made. “I wonder if he would accept this fish’s head as payment” he chuckled to himself; making a sad joke at an even sadder situation. A hot dusty wind whistled down the isolated alley jeeringly.

As he rounded the corner Babu stumbled into a pile of clothes and stepped over it. As he made his way the mound let out a small sigh. He looked back in surprise and tried peering through the dim light at what made the noise. The sun had completely disappeared but the street lights still hadn’t come on yet. It was that magical time between day and night. The clothes let out another ragged breath. It was a little girl! He tentatively stepped towards her and touched her with his weathered hand that had the smell of fish ingrained in it. He believed that smell would stay with him for the rest of his life. His leathery fingers touched her soft white cheeks, and they were warm. Babu couldn’t believe his eyes, but it seemed like this girl was on the verge of dying from some unknown injury. It didn’t look like a car hit her, and she was struggling to breathe. Panicked, he lifted her in his sunbaked arms and looked around. There was no one. It seemed that even the alley cats had retired early for the night. Evening prayer time announced itself, and a cacophony of mournful calls ignited: Chants and rhythmic notes from megaphones in tall white towers drowning everything else out. He could barely hear himself think.

Babu started running towards his accommodation with the girl in his arms. She reminded him so much of his daughter and he wanted to save her so badly. Her breath was extremely shallow and her face ghostly pale. She mumbled through her bluish lips childish words in Arabic that he could not understand. In between the slurs he could decipher the syllables “mama” and “baba”. He replied in Hindi: “Don’t worry bacha, I will help you”. It seemed like a few hundred years passed when Babu reached the main road and looked at the passing cars frantically hoping one would stop. As if lord Krishna was listening to him a car with some men noticed him. The driver slammed on the brakes and swerved the vehicle to the side. Two Bedouin in traditional clothing pulled out and started shouting at him in Arabic. He couldn’t understand what they were saying, but it appeared they were calling him a child molester. “This child needs help” screamed Babu in Hindi but the two men just ignored him and tore the little girl out of his arms. The larger of the males gaped in surprise: “Laila!” he exclaimed. “My poor nephew” he stammered as he bundled her in the car and sped off into the night. The second tribesman tackled Babu to the ground and got on his phone apparently calling his relatives. He sat on a dazed Babu’s back with one arm completely pinned in a Jiu Jitsu move.

Dumbfounded and in shock Babu let loose a scream and fought back trying to explain himself. “Stay down!” commanded the man but Babu was in total shock and panic. He was a simple fisherman and was trying to get on his feet and tell him that he was the hero and not a villain. He wanted to tell him he had a daughter the same age. He was an innocent man, a simple fisherman. He kicked and screamed, twisting and turning. The Arab punched Babu in the kidney so hard he almost passed out. But Babu was used to pain and with a quick twist slipped out of the attacker’s grasp, gave him a kick in the face and started to sprint in the other direction. The tribesman had quick reflexes and managed to grab onto Babu’s ankle before he could take more than a step. Babu landed on his face and felt the darkness closing in. The two fish slipped out of his pocket and fell in the sand next to his face, staring at him with the same accusatory expression they had in the bucket. Right before he fainted he saw the man’s knee come towards his head. He was out like a bulb.

Babu woke up in a barn alone in the dark. His head was throbbing and he was extremely thirsty. His first thought was his family. How could he get in touch with them and explain himself. How could he support them now? Was this a joke? If he could only tell his story he was sure somebody could help. All he really wanted now was a glass of water. Before he could even get up, the rickety wooden door opened and a bearded man dressed in a thobe (traditional Arab clothing) walked in and kicked him in the gut. It was Laila’s father. He shouted something accusatory in Arabic and lifted Babu by his checkered torn shirt. Dazed and confused Babu shielded his face and begged in Hindi “Baba, please don’t hurt me I was only trying to help the little girl”. The Arab would have nothing of it. He pointed to a piece of paper with words typed in Arabic. “Sign” growled the Arab pointing towards the paper. Babu tried explaining himself but the language barrier was also having none of it either. Babu was a simple fisherman and only knew simple things like seasons, tides, fish patterns, and the fish market. The rest of the world was a mystery. If his signature would silence that scary man then he would sign. It’s just some ink on a paper he thought to himself as he leaned down and signed his name on the confession. It was a crude signature using simple Hindi letters: B-a-b-u. There. Now he could explain himself and get out.

Babu languished in the barn for what seemed a lifetime. Nobody would explain anything to him, and all he got was some leftover food twice a day. No phone call. No help. No contact with his family that he so desperately missed. The two resident goats would chew their straw and peer nonchalantly at him from time to time, but he saw nobody else. The little girl was the daughter of a powerful tribesman. She went missing from her home and was found unconscious in his arms. She was mentally disabled. That’s all people knew. They didn’t know she had asthma, and that she ran without permission from her home to buy some snacks from the supermarket. They didn’t know that she was also allergic to peanuts, and that the biscuits she ate had peanuts. They didn’t know that gentle Babu wouldn’t hurt a fly, and that he tried saving her. All they knew was that they found a dying girl in his arms. All they knew was that she died in the hospital due to breathing problems. They assumed Babu strangled her and was trying to steal her away somewhere. What Babu didn’t know was that in these desert areas far from the capital the tribes ruled themselves. And that Laila’s father was a judge.

Babu stood under the hot desert sun with a cigarette in his mouth. He looked down the four gun barrels and remembered the days when that same sun beat him mercilessly as he sped into the open sea. The spray from crashing into the waves would cool his face and back but today there was no spray. Only merciless heat. He looked up at the sun and remembered Kerala and his childhood. He used to run among the shade of the mango trees with his friends playing hide and seek. It was only after his mother got sick that he left his hometown to find any kind of work to support his family. It was only after they sold their cow that he had no more options. He looked at the four executioners in front of him and wondered which gun had the final bullet. As he took the last deep breath of sickly smoke he tried keeping it in as long as he could. “I wonder what happened to those two safis” he thought. “I wonder what would have happened if mama didn’t get sick”. I wonder what would have happened to me if this world was kinder”. He wished he was as lucky as the crab he tossed back a lifetime ago, but he knew he wasn’t. Babu took his last breath and closed his eyes.

Happy birthday USA

“It is difficult to free fools from the chains they revere” -Voltaire

The United States of America. What a country. It’s been called everything from the “Great Satan” to “The greatest country on Earth”, and the truth is probably somewhere in between. It’s always been my favorite alongside Japan and Germany but there’s something very special about the United States. It doesn’t have the ruthless demand for perfection that the Germans and Japanese do, but it’s still the best, and maybe that’s why I actually love it the most. It has an elastic sort of strength, depending on priority; it gets tough when it has to and takes it easy the rest of time. In a nonchalant fashion; work hard, party harder. It’s fifty countries in one. It’s the greatest force of innovation and creativity that has ever graced this planet. It’s full of life and colorful characters. Whatta country: The US of A.

In the Islamic world the USA is the country that most love to hate, and in some cases for good reason.  What we fail to separate is foreign policy from national identity, and there are some very important things we need to learn from the Americans. As history demonstrates there’s always been a dominant country dictating what happens in its immediate vicinity. Ambitious mankind built empires like the Mongols, Romans, Ottomans, Arabs, British each with its rise and subsequent fall. Bahrain, being a tiny island surrounded by giants is a major American ally and very sensible to be so. What did you expect, that we make enemies of the strongest country in the world? That would just be unwise on many levels. Being an American ally brings protection to our resources and sovereignty, and gives legitimacy and economic strength to our small country. Besides, we share many of their modern ideals and freedoms, God bless our government.

Luckily for us, the USA is a cool kind of superpower that has culture, fashion, fun, education, technology, and most importantly human rights. Yes, human rights. As much as many would disagree, the Americans bring refreshingly cool ideals to our unforgiving scorching landscape of intolerance. Many Arabs perplexingly and sadly seem to enjoy being stuck in the 15^th century with a bizarre mentality that perpetuates the unfairness of ancient Arabia exhibiting a demented misinterpretation of Islam. Let’s just ask ourselves, would we rather have an imperialist power like China or Russia be the main superpower? Would we like their version of democracy and communism instead? If we are to be anyone’s ally, let it be someone who truly has freedom, and wants to spread those ideals. Besides, aren’t the Americans way more fun?

One of the greatest concepts we need to learn from the Americans is the separation of church from state. Thomas Jefferson said: “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; thus building a wall of separation between Church & State”. Indeed, the first amendment allows everyone to worship whatever or whomever they like freely, but that freedom shall in no way be imposed upon others through the law or government. What a breath of fresh air. I’m sure that law came about after the newly born USA was sick and tired of the British using the Church to churn out laws that came straight from the Pope, who took them directly from God.

It’s about time Bahrain follows in those footsteps, and our brave Shura council has followed them closely. They promised Parliament (who are sadly obsessed with being God’s representatives on Earth) that any attempt they make to enforce laws based on religion or “Sharia” principles will be promptly shot down or vetoed. Another breath of fresh air. It means that we can continue to have freedom of expression, freedom to invest without needing a mulla to approve it, freedom to party, freedom to dress as we like, freedom to drink and smoke, freedom to have mannequins in windows, freedom to have long or short hair, and the freedom to go to the mosque, temple, church, synagogue, or not to go at all. There’s a wall between Mosque and State, and I’m very thankful for it. Thank you USA for your ideals. Thanks for cheeseburgers, the car, the plane, the computer, Hollywood, the internet, NASA, rock n roll, the phone, GPS, jeans and tshirts, Disney, sunglasses, electricity, and mostly thanks for being our ally. And thank you Shura for being cool and free, like a firework on the fourth of July. Happy birthday USA, live long and prosper, and may the force be with you.

Fool me once

 

“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” – Edmund Burk

As our region boils and bubbles with war, extremism, and a sharp drop in petro-dollar income it’s clear that we don’t have the luxury to make stupid mistakes anymore. Within ten years we’ll see a new evolution: The clean energy revolution. And as Bahrain’s economy struggles to diversify from oil amid a variety of crises we find our ever-fidgety esteemed members of parliament predictably and reliably in a struggle of their own: On a quest to find the most bizarre and inventive ways possible to avoid reaching a logical consensus that can revive our ailing business environment.

As MPs churn out racist, crippling, illogical proposals such as terminating work visas for expats over the age of fifty (because after 50 a human turns into a vegetable), restricting expats’ driving licenses based on income (because poor foreigners cause traffic), or to pull scantily dressed mannequins from mall windows (because why not), they still have the gall to propose a mandatory training course ‘about love’ to couples before getting married. The irony is that every single member of our parliament breezed into office without any training or examination whatsoever. None. No compulsory overview about the constitution. No PR training on how to deal with the public and press. No ethics courses. No brush up on economics or political science. Not even a simple math quiz. Logic 101 perhaps?

Last week an MP was sentenced to nine months in jail for theft, abusing his wife, and threatening others with a firearm. As an MP he has immunity and can’t be convicted unless he’s released from Parliament. Does it make sense that a criminal remains in his post and represents Bahrain abroad?

Parliament’s “Women and Child Committee” was created to defend the rights of women and children. Unfortunately, I’ve never seen a committee so focused on robbing the rights from the very people it was assigned to protect. Every single member of that committee resigned in protest against the government’s decision to implement a universal resolution CEDAW (Convention on the elimination of all forms of discrimination against women). The convention is meant to give women gender equality, pass divorcees’ rights and nationalities onto their children, combat domestic abuse, and essentially liberate repressed women. The audacity. The committee decided that it was “incompatible with Islamic Sharia” and the abuse had to continue because local Shia clergymen interpreted man’s right to beat and rape his wife without consequence as “God’s will”. Three of the committee were women. Thankfully CEDAW was pushed through by Shura with an overwhelming majority 32-2 with the blessing of the Supreme Council for Women. God bless them both.

Despite Bahrain’s current fiscal austerity measures our heroes now decide that they deserve a higher retirement package. It’s pretty unbelievable that with only two years of service MPs (who rake in around BD 4,500 per month) pocket almost as much as a minister who worked for ten years at retirement. They also want a higher daily allowance when they travel abroad on official trips besides the first class tickets and 5 star hotels.

The link between business and politics is inextricable; neither is as robust without the other and each has a direct (and sometimes immediate) effect on the strength and shape of the other. Political stability is the soil in which an economy grows. Sunlight, nutrients and water come in the form of solid infrastructure, clear legislation, and investor confidence. We need to be cautious when choosing our gardeners because even if we have the best soil in the world, one careless unqualified imbecile can destroy an entire forest overnight.

I watch several MPs sneak out during lunch break by stuffing the attendance box with paper so it malfunctions. I chuckle quietly and point my pen at my chest. This is my fault, because I’m not doing anything about it. It’s my fault because I backed the wrong candidate. It’s my fault because I thought this time they would be different.

We all know that some members of parliament are dangerously obsessed with individual short term goals and that raises two serious questions: “Shouldn’t there be some qualification or vetting process BEFORE we give a stranger literally off the street a badge, a gun, and a dangerous bonus: Immunity?” and “Are we going to allow some unqualified people to erase everything that we and our fathers and grandfathers have worked so hard to achieve?”

As the ice caps melt and our economy gasps for air I’m not gonna stay quiet. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. If you don’t change then we will have to change you.

Can we lead

“A single arrow is easily broken but not ten in a bundle” -Japanese Proverb

If I pointed at India thirty years ago and said they would be the world leaders in technology I would have been laughed at and considered a joke. If I pointed at China and said they would be leaders of industry twenty years ago I might have been sent to a mental asylum. It’s strange how some countries are just meant for some things. Their brains are wired in a specific way, or their bodies built in a certain shape. Their culture, work ethic, upbringing, family bonds, market conditions, and many other twists of fate along the evolutionary path led them to this point. They also must have government support and foresight, education, and most importantly a culture of cooperation and optimism.

This brings to mind the lack of local IT development in Bahrain. Although we have sporadic successful companies it could be so much more. As I walk the corridors of coaching and entrepreneurship of this tiny island I find many bright young minds with a lot of potential. I see pioneers with passion and a laptop, and groups of students with sizzling ideas. But I also see missing elements like an optimistic supportive fostering culture of encouragement and belief, and a strong pillar of technological education in our public schools. I also see a complete lack of interest to permeate the English language into the new generation of Bahrainis.

It’s a strange thing to see people support strangers but not have much encouragement for those close to them. It’s a very weird phenomenon, but it exists very strongly in Bahrain for some unexplainable reason. In Japan students are taught at a very early age to be responsible for their classroom and class-mates by working as a team and making sure their classroom and school are spotless. The success of the group depends on their ability to work together. Yes, there will also be jealousy and envy, but the Japanese have somehow managed to harness that into healthy competition with mutual respect; and have made the good of the group a priority to the good of the individual. That amazing culture is reflected in their technology and passion to be the best. The Indians are also a sharing community, and that non-competitiveness has allowed them to teach each other technology and it has spread like wildfire. We need to instill these kinds of ideals early in the classrooms instead of teaching divisive issues that taint the young generation.

In my case, growing up in a private school in Bahrain luckily English was at the forefront, and all the subjects were in English: Math, physics, chemistry, history etc.  The only subject in Arabic was Arabic. We grew up learning about the world through American eyes, and what a world it is. Most importantly today we can communicate with the globe on the same level, so when we talk to companies, entrepreneurs, bosses, or anyone else we speak the same language. We don’t simply grasp English, but we communicate at the same wavelength: The language of technology. Furthermore, it’s easy to learn programming since all codes are in English. In the United States, elementary students are taught coding. Imagine, 7 or 8 years old writing in the language of computers. And the reason they teach it may surprise you; it’s called computational thinking. So they teach it not just for the kids to be IT literate, but for them to have problem-solving capabilities across all disciples including math, science, and the humanities. Obama made it his mission to have every single school teach computer science (CS). In Bahrain unfortunately most 7 year-olds don’t know what coding even means.

We may have a few bright sparks in Bahrain who learnt English and coding by themselves, but for us to unlock the potential of this paradise island we’re going to need to instill core values and principles that shape the culture of the next generation. Luckily, most are growing up with a mobile or i-pad next to them but the culture of cooperation is still lacking. Governmental support needs to start with the children, and then we can have a better rate of return on our investments. Start-ups are already a tricky venture (1 out of 10 succeeds), so let’s get more bang for our buck and focus on the new generation of IT. Bahraini’s definitely are smart so you never know, Bahrain could be the next India of the Arab world.