"You may tell yourself, 'this is not my beautiful house!'"

I had an interesting encounter while having coffee at the cafe today. My friend Jacob and I were down at our "local" (of course, not in the British sense. Beer.) and were speaking English together, as is our habit. There were a few young guys sitting not too far away, and at some lull in the conversation I happened to look over and one of them made eye contact and smiled (you know, the raising of the eyebrows smile, the "I want to say something" smile that one seems to get when people want to talk to the crazy foreigners...maybe you don't know, its immaterial).



I smiled back and he then asked "how are you?" in English, which was the start of a small conversation about how we liked Algeria and what we were doing and how they are students and want to at some point come to the US to study (biology). When I told them (this is in French now, their English was more for show) that I studied colonial history, they both just assumed that I worked on the War of Independence (1954-62), since "colonial" history in Algeria is the War. There's no place for remembering those other nasty 124 years.



I told them that I was researching at the Archives Nationales, at which point they took turns telling me how there "is nothing to find there" and that "to get the real history, you have to talk to people" and that "the only true history is what you can learn from people who actually lived it." I agreed that talking to people was important but thought that there might be some use in archival material. They both scoffed at the notion and once again agreed that nothing the government was involved in could be true, "there is no government here, just lies."



I find their position both remarkable and normal for Algeria. Rumor and hearsay are so prevalent in here that there is no room for anything "official" to have any claim on truth or validity, no matter how marginally connected to "le Pouvoir" ("the power," which is like "the Man") that source may be. Thus, for these guys (university educated) the fact that the government controls the Archives automatically disqualifies archival sources from the regime of truth. To them the only way to get at anything "true" about Algeria is to heed the claims of the various oral networks, unsubstantiated by anything other than the fact that they get repeated.



I guess its a cheesy conclusion, but in the end, which is more important to the social life of the country, the "truth" that I "discover" in the archives, or the "truth" that my taxi driver constructs for me in on the ride there? What good is something "true" if it can't convince anyone, can't promote action of any kind?



That, and I have an ant infestation. I blame the cookies, so I threw them out. Hopefully by the time I get back from Oran (leave tomorrow, stay 5 days) the ants will have deemed my room desert and moved on to more fecund fields.



Same as it ever was...and this

99 Problems

I haven't posted in quite a while - again - and I'm starting to think that something is going on here. I was initially putting it down to the fact that I've actually been working much more and wandering around less. You know, staring at bad nineteenth century handwriting or the blinking cursor of Microsoft Word doesn't really lend itself to snappy stories.



But I think it might be something a little different. I think my blogging career is condensing the historical trajectory of the field of anthropology. Now, I'm not saying I know anything about anthropology, other than I think Indiana Jones was one of its greatest minds, but I have read a Taussig article or two, which I think gives me adequate intellectual firepower to continue.



Like anthropology, when my blog first started out it was deeply connected with the circulating powers of empire and colonialism - really, what am I doing if not presenting "Algeria" in all its otherly strangeness safely to you readers back home in the metropole. Hell, some policy wonk might even get his hands on my brilliant treatment of Algerian karaoke and stage a new invasion.



These initial stages were, I think, similar to the vulgar anthropology of "look how weird it is here!" Or, "man, people in XXXXXX (Algeria) sure do some wacky things!" But I think it got better - I was able to cut through the focus on otherness to think about the city or country and how it relates to larger concerns in the world (or at least I assume that is what you all read when I wrote, "Canadians = Jerks. According to an article in the Nov. 5, 2007 New Yorker, Canadians still club baby seals, skin them, and sell the pelts," and other such gems of analysis).



But things just keep getting more and more "normal" here. I go out, I do my work, I meet people, etc. All the same stuff that I did before, in about the same proportions, but now it all seems so normal and regular that I'm having trouble coming up with some way to write about it all and make it more interesting than, "I read a couple of documents in the archives today." Pretty soon I - like anthropology before me - will, in the search for a way to keep my blog (discipline) alive, turn to theorizing my self in relation to my subject instead of saying anything about the subject (Algeria) at all (note, for instance, this post itself). Before you know it I'll be able to continue writing the Corsair from the comfort of my home in Irvine. What a relief! A way to squeeze some more blood from the cold stone that is my blog!



Either that or I'll find the only American-style supermarket in all of Algeria (stay tuned), see how many chwarma I can eat in one sitting, finally make it out to Notre Dame d'Afrique, take a trip to Oran, and/or challenge the Kabylis who run the liquor store to a Tango*-drinking contest, before Heineken takes it over. So there's hope for the blog after all, I guess. Thanks for that session, I'm sure my medical insurance covers this couch-time.



And to all you anthropologist apologists out there: as I said before, I know nothing about the discipline, so if you would like to enjoy this entry a little more, use your find/replace tool to change "anthropology" to "phrenology," "ethnography," "dentistry" or some other old-fashioned hilarity.



*Tango is (was) the only completely independent Algerian beer. Heineken just bought it out and will take over operations soon.**
**That means I'm not sure when they take over operations.

Keep on Chooglin'

Back to the grind here in Algiers, which of course means back to sleeping in and shirking my research duties...but just for a few days, of course.



The lovely break with Jess in Paris - where I was able to eat pork and drink alcohol to my heart, stomach, and liver's delight - had to end at some time, I guess, as it seems that humans have managed, in all our brilliance, to create a world where my continued pleasure and leisure is not seen as the pinacle of human achievement that it most surely is. For some reason there are people out there not working toward this lofty goal. I am making it your mission (yes, you) to find these people and do whatever it takes to get them on the right track. Your friend/relative/sibling/ random-guy-who's-site-you-stumbled-upon needs you. Don't let him down.



But the bastards are out there, and so accordingly I caught a flight back at some unholy hour of the morning, going through Madrid. Now, you might know this already, but in Spanish "Algiers" is "Argel," (and in French it is "Alger"). Finding the name "Argel" on the flight board, I had to pause to check the flight number. Because of the notorious Spanish tendency to spell everything wrong ("piso" is how they spell "floor," and "mojado" is how they spell "wet." Now how dangerous is that?! Get it right, Spanish!), and because of the French "Alger," I thought that some sleepy jerk in the Madrid airport had merely typed the name into the computer wrongly. I even took a picture, I thought this little Spanish anagrammal mix-up was so funny.



So I spent the two hours of my layover in Madrid giggling to myself about this wacky mix-up. Then I got on the plane. Oops, they actually say "Argel," in Spanish. Well, isn't that just a kick in the pants.



At the end of the day (wha what Pierre!), I guess it isn't so bad to be back. You know, I was getting too much of spending time with my girlfriend, eating delicious food, drinking wine and walking around one of the most beautiful cities on earth. It's nice to get back to crushing poverty and deep structural corruption, not to mention very poor air quality, poor nutrition, and generalized anger. Starting to go soft, I was. Smiling too much. I can't wait to get my scowl back.

Tournage dans un jardin Algérien

Just a quick note to say that I'm famous. Or I will be in about six months when the film I just took part in gets released. That's right folks, I'm spitting out the bad milk of academics and sipping the sweet wine of movie-stardom. Or at least that is what I assume will happen after the Academy sees my powerful portrayal of one of a group of paparazzo running toward an elevator in an obscure Algerian film. That's right, and I got paid. They pay extras! What kind of crazy mixed-up Planet of the Apes world is this?

But really, I went and participated as an extra in this Algerian film, and I have to say that after seeing the magic first-hand, the movie business sucks. Early mornings. Endless repetition. Lots of standing. People telling you to be "more lively" on the 32nd take. I have to say that it was a fun experience, I got 20 bucks for my efforts, and just maybe I'll be able to see myself run by in the background of a scene on the big screen. Of course, it will only be on the big screen for a week in some art-house cinema in Paris, but maybe I'll be in town for it. I will put up some exclusive, behind-the-scenes photos when I get motivated enough to plug my camera into my computer.

This is also another way of saying that things here seem pretty normal. That goes for everyone except my doctor friend, who still has a lot of very sad work to do. But the rest of society as a whole is so Post Traumatic Stress Disordered from the recurring violence that you don't notice too much at the cafe or on the street. And just in time, the Corsair is getting even more Causal. I'm going to Paris to meet Jess tomorrow night, and might post from there (like the exclusive photos I promised just a few sentences ago), but maybe not. So see ya'll later, and as Cicero said: "NON-ILLEGITIMI CARBORUNDUM."

News

If by some miracle there is news of Algeria in the US press, you will likely hear that there were two bombs here in Algiers this (Tuesday) morning. So far (this is about three hours later, there are around 28+ reported killed and 45+ wounded. They were car bombs that went off outside of the UN building and a police training facility, both in the same area called Beni Aknoun, near a bunch of government ministries and the like. I would estimate the area is about a mile or so from the Glycines, and to give you a picture of how loud car bombs are, I was laying in bed for the first one and it rattled the windows and shook the whole building. I got up and went out onto the terrace, and the second one was not quite as loud but still like the loudest thunderclap you’ve ever heard. I actually thought it was a construction crane dropping a huge metal beam or something of that nature. But everything is fine here as far as myself and everyone I know is concerned. I will post more info at some time when I know more.

The Tradition of all the Dead Generations...

I can't remember if I have already written here about the physical city of Algiers, so if you think you've heard it all before, there is a whole world of grad-school basketball talk going on over at freedarko.blogspot.com, check it out (and witness the template for the Cas. Corsair)...



Algiers is on the coast. It means "islands" and has been a habitation for some thousands of years. The land upon which the city has been built and rebuilt is hilly, green, and bright with sunshine. The hills fall down to the coast, not unlike the middle section of California; they aren't precipitous, but they definitely slope. Because of this the town is based on winding switchbacks and stairs. There is no way to get anywhere without a significant change in altitude, the whole place is more vertical than any city I've been in. More than San Francisco, more than Seattle...I guess a bit less than this one Greek island I was on once but can no longer remember the name. And you thought I wasn't getting old.



What all this means is that the city has tons of steep back alleys and stairwells connecting two streets that run more or less perpendicular for a few blocks. Along these stairways are little shops: butchers, chwarma shops, cobblers (yes, cobblers - it seems that no one throws shoes away in Algiers), men's clothing stores, tobacconists, and photocopy salons. I would imagine there are other types of stores as well.



There are great parts of the city where you are turning the corner on a stairway, there is a white and blue building on your right, a green and white state school on your left, lines of shops on the street below, and as you come around the corner you look up from the stairs to see a blindingly crispy blue Mediterranean in the near distance. It can really be stunning. Then you get to the bottom of the stairs, are almost bowled over by the stench of urine, mobbed by mosquitoes, knee-deep in trash, with a bunch of unemployed twenty year olds silently watching you in a kind of menacing manner (they probably have university degrees and speak three languages, but you try being unemployed with no hope of employment for about three straight years and you'll look menacing, too).



Couple that menacing unemployment with the fact that no one is on the streets after 8pm, that there is nothing apart from a few man-bars even open after that hour, and that the Algerois - due to about ten years of generally random violence that ended in the deaths of about 200,000 people at the end of 170 years of terrible governance - have internalized a curfew that keeps them from even thinking about interacting with others late at night, and you have the deadest city of millions this side of Salt Lake.*





The city has the physical set up to be a really interesting, really fun town. A few nice restaurants moving in, a little paint here and there, a nightclub for the kids, some decent employment, a working infrastructure to repair roads and take away trash and provide services to the population, a complete overhaul of the political/economic structures that keep a handful of very very corrupt guys/parties at the head of all the major industries and government ministries...you know, just a few little things and this town could be a real gem.



I must admit to liking - or at least to having a grudging respect for - the fact that Algeria is sticking with the Thursday-Friday weekend. No matter what happens to the country I hope it maintains its quirks like that, it helps give the place its character.

I'm not going to conclude with anything here, I just (note the rhetorical move) think that it is a shame that things have gone so poorly in Algeria for so long that a place like Algiers, which could be a beautiful, amazing town that everyone would want to come see once in his/her life, is instead a poor, poorly run city that people try to avoid.

*I have never been to Salt Lake City, have no idea how many people live there, and am only guessing that it is boring. I'm standing by that guess, however, largely based on their basketball team from the 1990s.

Legislative action on the part of the League

I was just made aware of this, which will be of interest to fans of baseball, sports in general, and cursing:



read more about it here: http://s210975194.onlinehome.us/blog/?p=41
All that and not a single "carnsarnat!"? I feel cheated.