.: The Red Brick – Dubai College's Student Newspaper :.

Coco Chanel, Karl Lagerfeld, Manolo Blahnik.

Many people like to believe that fashion defines life. The glitz and glamour of this magical world leaves millions in a state of awe, love and aspiration. Legendary figures have supposedly emerged from seemingly simple concepts: Mary Quant the acclaimed inventor of the mini-skirt, John Galliano who revolutionized couture, Balenciaga the brains behind handbags. Undoubtedly, fashion is the epitome of success. Or is that just the magazines talking? Having the privilege to have grown up in a superficial, fashion-indoctrinated, egocentric world, has led us to believe that “fashion is who we are”, that “fashion is our only solution to happiness.” Well, I have a question: when the world undergoes substantial political changes, meteorological abominations, and economic crises – does the solution really lie in… polka dots?

Why is it that designers are regarded as moguls and geniuses? Why is it that girls pay thousands of dollars to be decked out in designer clothes from head to toe to end up looking like Karama regulars? The last time I checked, a visit to Forever 21 with leftover pocket money could end up with me looking like a mirrored image of Natalie Portman at the Golden Globes: totally ridiculous. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure Valentino had some intention for that dress – in the October collection for Halloween! If the brainwashed airheads we continue to surround ourselves with rest their minds of their endless clothing-oriented desires for even a moment, maybe then they would realize the importance of fashion is just about the same as the importance of Lindsay Lohan’s trips to the Betty Ford clinic. Non-existent.

Do we even need fashion? Are clothes really that important? Victoria's Secret sure doesn’t seem to think so! Why does this undying need for clothes within us refuse to wither away, when most modern day runway shows consist of half-naked models running up and down a dressed up and overrated platform? How does society never fail to feed its unswerving strive of keeping up with the latest trends? Underneath all of the labels and our brand named façades, lie what is really important. Of course, mankind will continue to be blinded and led astray by the wrath of fashion, couture, and clothes (or lack of).

Ask the average female teenager what her idea of a good time is and the answer is simple: all expense-paid shopping sprees! What more could a girl ask for, right? Visiting mall after mall, entering shop after shop and devouring all clothes in sight – it all seems so carefree and fun; they’re right. What’s more fun than dragging your blistered feet in skyscraper stilettos around a three-story building, running into every room that gives you another opportunity to cause serious damage to your parents’ bank account? What’s more fun than carrying a buckled Chloe Paddington that weighs more than the entire contents of the bag itself, with agonizing shoulder pains and sweaty palms struggling to hold the plastic handles on the carrier bags?

After personally experiencing such a shopping trip as described, when my sister forced me to accompany her, I realized that I have underestimated the capability of these mall-going girls. Not only can they multitask by holding their overstuffed shopping bags in one hand and their too-small-to-be-dogs-let’s-call-them-accessories in the other, they have actually managed to mindlessly emulate models’ outfits from designer catalogues to perfection.

It is unfortunate, yet safe to say evolution seemed to have reached its peak a very long time ago as we, evidently, are continuing to devolve at a rapid rate with our senses of individuality being the first factors to deteriorate. People no longer desire to possess self-inspired confidence, wearing clothes that reflect their individual personalities. Instead they choose to lie dormant in outfit choosing (the only aspect of fashion that involves brain activity) and prefer to look like walking and talking versions of Donna Karan manikins.

Some say to really appreciate the couture behind fashion, one must fully understand the ingenious behind the designer. I say it doesn’t take a lot of brain to add red soles to seriously overpriced and occasionally tacky shoes, Mr. Louboutin. Frankly speaking, who looks at the bottom of shoes anyway? I know for a fact the only thing interested in the soles of my Shoemart pumps is the chewed up gum on the pavement, finding itself a brand new home. And maybe if I’m lucky, it will be strawberry flavored.

“Dear Osama they want you dead or alive so the terror will stop. There’s a reward of 25 million dollars on your head but don’t lose sleep on my account Osama. I wouldn’t know how to spend 25 million dollars. It’s not as if I’ve got anyone to spend it on since you blew up my husband and boy.”

From the first page of Chris Cleave’s debut novel Incendiary, the reader learns that the narrative takes place in a modern London, in shock after a devastating suicide bomb attack on a football stadium. The young, female, working-class protagonist reveals equally early that the terrorist act resulted in the death of her husband and young son and the novel takes the form of her letter to Osama Bin Laden in which she writes to him about ‘the emptiness that was left when you took my boy away’. The narrator is convinced that if Osama was to ‘see [her] son with all his heart’ and ‘feel the sharp edges’ of the hole left in her heart after his death , he would understand her devastation and stop the ‘terror’ that has ravaged London.

Rather than the explosion being the crux of the story, the protagonist’s description of her life before the attack is brief and the majority of the story details the events that transpire in its aftermath. The reader knows from the very beginning that the attack has taken place and rather than detail the events leading up to it or the initial shock, Cleave explores both the nationwide mourning and decent into constant terror and the grieving of a mother and wife simultaneously.

As the protagonist struggles to come to terms with how drastically her world has changed, Cleave uses her relationships with other characters to make smaller observations about England and its class divides. Cleave’s representations of wealthy, materialistic, largely uncaring journalists and a tough-but-troubled policeman tie together to create an image of Britain’s civilisation crumbling as it deals with constant fear. These characters, while sympathetic to the protagonist’s tragic circumstances, all ultimately have their own agendas and look out for themselves and their is the strong sense that in the midst of the great fear, all sections of society are taken over by their instinctual will to survive.

Many of Cleave’s observations of the aftermath of the attack are eerily authentic and strike the reader as being a true reflection on real life circumstances. Details such as airports closing or increasing security, viciously indiscriminate reprisals against Muslims and Elton John securing the number one slot with a single called "England's Heart is Bleeding", all hit close to home for most readers. The scenario presented in Incendiary is one with great relevance to life today, as in the last few decades terrorist attacks have become more common and with improving technology, more cause for alarm. In fact, in a macabre coincidence, the intended release for the book, July 7th 2005, had to be postponed due to the suicide bomb attacks that took place on the London Underground that day, proving just how close to reality the novel is.

            Amidst the chaos of tumbling dictatorships across the world, Zimbabwe’s Robert Mugabe quietly announces that he will be running for the presidency in 2012, hoping to win elections for the 8th consecutive time in 31 years.

            It costs 10 million Zimbabwe dollars to buy a loaf of bread. Unemployment in the country is at 95% (CIA World Factbook). Yet, 87 year old Robert Mugabe clings to power like a leech, as has done for the past 31 years. Incredibly, Mugabe did not inherit Zimbabwe’s problems. But by pillaging his people and stupid decisions, he single handedly managed to destroy an economy that was once the ‘breadbasket of Africa’. In a world where our dictators are becoming an endangered species, we reflect on the life of one of the remaining few – and how a man is still empowered to swap Zimbabwe’s health care policy for a house in Hong Kong.

            Mugabe first came into power in 1979, a revolutionary hero who toppled the white minority government. An academic with 7 university degrees, he was hailed by the University of Edinburgh as ‘one of the great figures of modern Africa’ and an individual of ‘extraordinary intellectual discipline and energy’. This was undoubtedly reflected in the methodically brutal way Mugabe dispatched political rivals, ordering the murder of an opponent’s wife by burning her alive with gasoline after severing her hands and feet. Mugabe himself was certainly proud of his academic career, claiming that he even had a ‘degree in violence’.

            Needless to say, Mugabe’s revolutionary ideals died. They were replaced by a vicious opposition to homosexuality and white dominance, for which thousands were tortured and killed. In brilliant economic maneuver Mugabe wrote the ‘redistribution act’, where he was able to take land from whites and give it to coloured people. Those that were given farms were not trained farmers and Zimbabwe’s food output fell by 45% as crops died.

            Then came the Matabeleland genocide. In the 1980’s government troops killed thousands of civilians to quell civil unrest in the Matabeleland province of Zimbabwe. That was the official word. In truth, ethnic Shona soldiers systemically slaughtered the Ndebele population of the area. Mugabe never stood trial.

            Unlike other political criminals, Mugabe’s actions are not solely condemned to history. In 2008, the dictator launched a bloody campaign of violence after losing elections. The Zimbabwe Association of Doctors for Human Rights ‘recorded 85 deaths in political violence’ after voting. It turns out that the election committee had the figures wrong, and elections went to a run-off. Mugabe’s ZANU-PF party spectacularly came from behind to seal a power sharing deal with the MDC. How much power sharing the deal involved, was explicitly obvious.

            And so Robert Mugabe prepares to run for the presidency once more. In the run up to this years elections Zimbabwe charged 46 with treason for watching videos of the protests in Egypt and Tunisia. With Mr. Mugabe’s prodigious skill in corruption, brutality and intimidation, there seems to be no doubt who will be Zimbabwe’s president this year. 
 

There's always loads going on in Dubai every month, so here are a couple of one-off events this month that might be worth a visit!

Firstly, the Skywards Dubai Jazz Festival is taking place from the 16th to 24th February.

The Jazz Festival is ideal as it is taking place over half term, so it should be easy to catch some of the many acts that are performing at Festival City during the week. The main acts are at the weekends at the start and end of the festival with the jazz garden evenings during the week.

So who's playing the Jazz Festival?

James Morrison, Jason Mraz, and James Blunt are some of the main headliners for the festival this year, but there are three different acts playing each night for the whole nine days - who the organisers have deemed as the 'best performers of the last nine years'. There are some new performers as well as some old favourites performing again. The jazz garden evenings are sure to be more mellow and relaxed with artists such as Althea Rene and the All-Star Ladies of Blues performing at these evenings, with the bigger names performing at the weekend events. If you could only go to one day, I'd recommend Thursday 23rd, as Jason Mraz, Sandi Thom and Spyro Gyra are performing then, although James Morrison is sure to be worth seeing on the first day of the festival, Thursday the 16th. It's sure to be a big event this year, as Dubai definitely likes celebrating anniversaries and 10 years is a big one. It promises to be the best jazz festival yet. Whether you've gone in the past and enjoyed, or are thinking of going for the first time, it's bound to be an enjoyable evening.

The other big name performer in Dubai this month is Kasabian, who are performing on the 10th of February. They are performing down at the Sevens Stadium, in order to help promote their new album, Velociprator. They are nominated for Best British group at the Brit Awards this year and three NME awards. Expect a great concert!

Other music events around the world...

The Brit Awards 2012 take place on February 21st, with nominations for Adele, Ed Sheeran, Coldplay and several others. There are also a whole range of artists performing. As well as the ones I've mentioned, Blur, Florence and the Machine, Bruno Mars, Rihanna and Olly Murs (nominated for Best British Single) will also be performing. While this might be a different concert to attend, I'll definitely be watching the performances on Youtube the next day!

And, an event a bit closer to home (actually at school): the Jazz Band Concert on Valentines Day in the music centre - I'll tell you how it went next month!

“It is difficult to get the news from poems

yet men die miserably every day

for lack

of what is found there.”

-Asphodel, That Greeny Flower

Why do we look to poems? Not for news, as Williams seems to suggest in ‘Asphodel, That Greeny Flower’. What do we lack that we seek in poems; what is it in us that is drawn, always, to that which we cannot fully explain or understand? In short, what is a poem? Man has used poetry for beauty, direction, reassurance, hope, expression- but still he is no closer to being able to describe what it is that lends a poem its inexpressible grace and elegance. All of us yearn for some kind of poetry in our lives, but the loveliness of poetry is that we see it in different forms- in maths, in music, in nature, in God. Though some may scorn poetry in its literary form, the truth is, we all have a predilection for poems, even if we do not see it ourselves.

In my opinion, the fundamental point of poetry is that it plays on thoughts and feelings which are an inextricable part of the human experience. A good poem shares unabashedly with the reader the emotions of the poet, yet also includes the reader in its stream of consciousness. How strange it is that we should seek uniqueness, when it is togetherness that we truly desire. All we want to feel is that someone else feels the same way, and that if we are lonely, it is not our loneliness, but rather the loneliness of time. Ultimately, we want to be reassured that this too shall pass. Poetry tells us this. It comforts us in our sadness, it adds to our joys, and when we do not want to be cured of our miseries, at least it paints a prettier picture of them so that we may delight in the elegiac quality of our own travesties, so that we feel, perhaps, that our grief, too, is beautiful in its own way. In its greatest form, poetry is a constant companion to us. One is reminded of the Pablo Neruda poem which begins with the consoling line, “ In these lonely regions I have been powerful…” . What gives one that power? Perhaps something as simple and delicate as a line from a beloved poem; the knowledge that, even in these lonely regions, there is beauty- if that is what one accepts poetry is- and that one is never truly alone. The truth of poetry is that we can never be alone once we have read it- and that in itself is something marvellous to behold.

There is neither a conclusion nor an ultimate point to make on this topic. I encourage everyone to read poetry, and to decide for themselves what it is; there are no wrong answers. Perhaps you will not see poetry as a thing of beauty, necessarily; perhaps that is not its function. Shelley once noted that poets are “the unacknowledged legislators of the world." Delusions of grandeur, a cynic might say, as he wryly notes that Shelley, too, was a poet. I, too, once dismissed this view, as I believe firmly that the aim of poetry is not to influence politics, nor to bring governments and countries to their knees; we have enough of such literature in the world without the taint of the political sphere entering the world of poems as well. But was Shelley really talking about such ‘legislation’? The dictionary simply defines legislation as “laws”, and one may immediately associate legislature with the government, and laws of society. However, in a deeper sense, there are other laws; laws of the heart and of human nature; the laws that all of mankind is bound to obey, not because of societal convention, but because of a deeper instinctual pull which poets perhaps understand more thoroughly. Poets may not create this legislation, but they write it, and in their writing, we, the readers of their laws, understand more about ourselves and the human condition. Ultimately, we read poetry because poetry appeals to us. We read poetry to learn about ourselves, and to listen to the legislation which we have forgotten, but which poets have kept alive in their words. As one of my favourite poems notes, “I learn by going where I have to go.” Similarly with poetry, I learn by reading where I have to go, and what I have to do. Not all poetry is meant as legislation. Not all poetry can guide us through times of despair. But sometimes , a poem is enough to make you feel as though you, too, have travelled, and have experienced things beyond the scope of your existence. Is this legislation? A road map of sorts? A comfort? All of these things, and more: this is a poem.

At midnight on the 15th August 1947, a nation made its “tryst with destiny.” The true dimensions of India had always been in her masses, and on that day, a vibrant, seething mass descended on Delhi drowning the British under a horde of brown humanity. Yet, in Calcutta, a man lay despondent on a straw pallet besides his spectacles and his Gita.

While India awakened to life and freedom; the pain of partition, a divisive future between Hindu and Muslim, rendered Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi sound asleep. Gandhi was far more than a freedom fighter or a “cunning Hindu politician” as labelled by the acerbic and blinkered Mohammad Ali Jinnah. It is not in connection to India’s destiny alone that his life has significance- since we anyway have callously abandoned most of his philosophies. He was essentially a moral force whose appeal was to the conscience of man and therefore universal. He was no child prodigy like a Vivekananda or Tagore, just an ordinary child like the rest of us with a shyness that handicapped him for years. Yet, there was something latent in his spirit that combined with an unshakeable faith in God, an iron will and a moral sensibility of right and wrong borne from the study of Hindu, Muslim and Christian scripture that made him what he was- a “Mahatma” ie: “Great Soul.” His genius in my opinion was his infinite capacity to strive to fulfill an inner moral urge, out of which sprang his doctrines of “Satyagraha” and “Sarvodaya” his gifts to an India that rendered Nehru’s words of “His light will illumine this country for many years to come” hollow, as 60 years hence, we have eschewed all of Gandhi’s principles.

At the root of “Satyagraha” is self-upliftment. It is about ensuring the good of the individual first and foremost as the good of the individual will lead to the good of all. The individual must seek to control his senses and desires, overcome his ego, thus enabling him to sacrifice himself for the good of his family, the community, and the nation. Gandhi believed that the development of India’s villages and a simple lifestyle was our salvation, yet instead of curing the ills of the perversions of our society we strove to imitate the West and yearned for great industrial complexes where regimented workers and urban youth were forced to sell their values for the sake of progress and a better material standard of life. The interests of the villages are now firmly subordinated to those of the towns and cities and the liberalization of the economy in 1992, brought economic growth to these cities at the cost of great social and moral degradation. Not only have we succumbed to the trappings of a hedonistic, promiscuous, so-called civilized but actually degenerate society, we’ve proved susceptible to the lures of technology and industrial progress. India has fallen into a perhaps irreversible social and moral decay. This is well illustrated by the failure of Anna Hazare’s movement against corruption. Anna’s movement failed to stay the distance and the reason is simple: public apathy. We could stir ourselves to celebrate a song like Kolaveri di but were unable to churn up anywhere near enough kolaveri (rage) to combat the scar that has eroded the nation for sixty years, ever since the Congress rejected Gandhi’s notions of becoming a socialist People’s Service League and abandoned spiritualized politics. The Indian people failed to rise to Anna’s occasion, seeking salvation either in bad-mouthing Hazare, or opting cynically to cast corruption as a long term resident in the nation. Hazare lost because a billion possible soldiers prematurely decided this was not their fight; they had a life to lead and if a bit of payment was under the table, acha theek hai (that is okay) as we say.

Gandhi’s premonitions with regards to Partition have also borne fruit. Since 1947, India and Pakistan have faced each other on the battlefield 3 times. What is far worse is this sense of enmity and discord between Hindu and Muslim, Indian and Pakistani that has burrowed into our minds. Rather than glory in our shared, almost identical culture, a disturbing antagonism pervades in the respective countries hinterlands. Just as Gandhi feared in 1947, the bloodbath of Partition has left wounds that fail to heal, leaving us estranged as a people. While many in India initially agreed with Gandhi’s claim that an intrinsic link exists between the Indian and Pakistani and only grudgingly agreed to partition, the Muslim terrorism of recent times has led to a disturbing undercurrent from radical Hindu parties that propose doctrines that seek to unite the subcontinent from the Indus to the Brahmaputra under Hindu rule. This notion is for now merely political propaganda that is subdued by the Congress to gain the Muslim vote but ultimately it is up to us, the masses, to contravene this nonsense and restore warmth for each other. Gandhi’s pyre at Rajghat on the banks of the Yamuna elucidates his Platonic dream of Khudai Raj- “making India the Kingdom of God on Earth.” Perhaps idealistic but the real travesty is that not that India and its people have failed, it is that they haven’t even put one foot on the path to Khudai Raj, instead blindly pursued the West’s model of power and success, driven by the need for an intrinsically materialistic society. Forgive us Gandhiji.