Mythologie des Alltags: Prinzessin Ateh

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Milorad Pavic: Khazarisches Wörterbuch

(ist es deutsche Literatur? Ich habe es in Deutsch gelesen, obwohl es vermutlich khazarisch oder serbisch geschrieben wurde, man kann es bestimmt auch in Englisch, Türkisch oder Französisch lesen):

Prinzessin Ateh aus dem verschwundenen Volk der Khazaren lȁsst einen Priester, einen Imam und einen Rabbi an ihren Hof kommen, aus deren Disput will sie herausfinden, welche der drei Religionen für sie und die Khazaren die beste ist. Deshalb hat das Lexikon auch drei grosse Kapitel: das rote, das grüne und das gelbe. Ausserdem gibt es das Ganze auch in weiblicher und mȁnnlicher Fassung (an Dir herauszufinden, wo der Unterschied liegt).
Das mȁrchenhafte Buch hat aber den Vorteil, dass es egal ist, wo du zu lesen beginnst: Bei den Traumjȁgern, bei den Ikonenmalern, bei den Nachtfechtern, beim Kapitel vom Ei und dem Geigenbogen, bei den drei Spiegeln der Zeit oder bei den Schatten, die lȁnger verharren als ihre Besitzer.
Die Khazaren sind heute weitgehend verschwunden: wir erkennen sie aber in manchen türkischen Tavla-Spielern, in den Stammkunden Belgrader Billardsalons oder Stuttgarter Dönerbuden noch wieder……

Daily mythology: What I think about the headscarf

Preliminary remark: In Europe there are veiled people too, just remember all the nuns on Italian streets (we used to call them “crows”). And never you would see any religious cult in Turkish TV like on the German channels nearly every Sunday….
I don’t want to compare Europe to Asia. After all I am living in Turkey.

To allow the headscarf in universities, courts and army is just improving individual freedom, they say. And after all it is a command written in Koran, they say (show me the place, please)
Everybody should be able to follow commands, better even, his personal tastes.
Yes! Even Alevi, Tattoo- wearing people and beer-drinkers! And even the Uigur minority in China! We protest against their treatment by the Chinese majority! And the Palestinian! And the Turks in Europe!

The treatment of minorities by the ruling Sunni-believers very clearly shows that they see the headscarf as a Sunni-political symbol.

P.S.
About Alevi. The Alevi-Belief is included in İslam. Therefore they can go to normal mosques and don’t need their own cemevi, they say.
On the other side there is a fatwa: Don’t marry an Alevi. “The Alevi faith is null and void; therefore marriage is not permissible.”
Summary: Sunni governments can decide where Alevis should be praying; but they should not marry Sunnis. Alevis should not seek a religious status. Meanwhile, the Alevis can continue to pay taxes to finance Diyanet’s (Directorate of Religious Affairs) budget that overwhelms the budgets of more than 10 ministries combined.

Daily mythology: Praising Atheism

Atheists are mainly gentle and friendly, but even the awful ones don’t run in the streets killing other people, just because a newspaper published some cartoons about atheism. Atheists don’t shoot rockets, they even don’t know how to provide them. Atheists are rarely adoring Krishnamurti, they don’t see any equality between flesh – or sexuality – and the devil . They don’t pray to elephants, though they like Ganesh. Atheists never burnt witches nor bitches, just because they couldn’t manage their own libido. Atheists never try to convince others. After a period of grace of one second they are even allowed to turn religious. Atheists love the missionary position, even if they know others. Atheists love Biergardens and Sausages, even if they have the taste of vegetable couscous too. Atheists remain good sports, even if their own team looses. Atheists love Sundays, even if they know, that the feast of Corpus Christi is a fake done by the pope. Atheists have no home, but they recognize each other by the ironic eye wrinkles……

Atheists wear corkscrew-curls only if they like it and complain away of wailing walls. They don’t smash tablets of stone and they try not to do too much damage, even without the ten commandments. They don’t act literally but follow their own thinking. They don’t need a promise of kingdom-come, even if their bank account on this side could contain more. They don’t need smells and bells, with frankincense they only disinfect the air. They reign with skepticism. Sometimes their smile is devilish. They love animals and spareribs, are disgusted from sacrifices. They work on evolution.

Atheists are to criticize too

Don’t stand in awe of them now, they have their weaknesses and faults too. They are a little bit bossy and assertive. They fight like mad against stupidity and yet they didn’t achieve much in that matter. They preach the minima moralia and they wonder if in spite of them everybody is running after the next rat-catcher. They love semidarkness (of church-naves?), they love to rumour even as children of Enlightenment. Careless they still BELIEVE (“I believe the train-station is over there!”). They love to stare at the ass of nuns or underneath monks frocks. But of course for them evolution don’t sucks.

Daily mythology: About blood

The invisible ties – about Blood

Oh, God said to Abraham,

“Kill me a son” Abe says,

“Man, you must be puttin’ me on”

God say, “No.” Abe say, “What?”

God say, “You can do what you want Abe, but

The next time you see me comin’ you better run” (Bob Dylan, Highway 61)

 

“A faint cold fear thrills through my veins” (Shakespeare’s Macbeth)

 

“I want to live, I want to fuck, and not only with one man. Would you marry me?” (The girl to the boy in Fatih Akin’s ‘Against the Wall’)

 

Blood is a very special sap (Mephistopheles, Faust’s evil partner, says: Sign with blood!). It is mythic. If we loose too much, our vitality, our life is running out with it. Red is it’s characteristic colour, but there are red and white corpuscles in it. I am looking to our flags, the Turkish and the Swiss one. In Switzerland they say about it’s signification: White freedom is emerging from the red ground of blood. Of course they think of the battles of Morgarten and Sempach, where a couple of “Swiss” peasants had the victory over the knights of Austrian Habsburg, and here in Turkey we’ll remember the Independence wars against the imperialist armies of England, France, Greece and Italy. Much blood trickled away then, as it does today in Baghdad.

Blood carries our emotions (a very common word for a young man here is “delikanlı”= madblooder) and it’s following them: in seconds I blush or I get pale like linen. No, you say? Then you might be cold blooded…

But “blood” in general signifies the past, the ancestors, our descent and origins. It contains the informations of our past, like every cell of our body. Our family? Well, our blood-relations, of course. The nation is in a queer way identified with blood. He insulted Turkish blood! said the boy who is suspicious of having shot Hrant Dink….On the other side blood is a liquid we all share as humans. It is red, no matter if we are Scottish, Eskimo, Yoruba, Apache, Anatolian, Armenian, Aborigine or Chinese. In margin of a few blood groups we are able to share it with everybody. It is renewing itself every minute and hour. It is the medium providing our body with everything he needs to stay alive in the future. There should be no more bloodshed, says God to Abraham, who was willing and ready to sacrify his son. But I fear we did not understand him. We talk about “the one world”, multiculturalism, tolerance, the attractions of other cultures etc. We travel to the outposts of the world to admire its marvels (we prefer a “World of Wonder”-hotel with not too much contact with the natives for that adventure). But “when it comes to marrying our own daughter or son, everyone’s preference is marrying them to someone of their own blood. Same religion, same nationality, same skin, same culture. This ultimate fetishism with ‘blood’ is the deepest malady of our times. We don’t have the means to overcome it. “

Emigrants, like for example the Turks in the European countries, try to preserve their language, their traditions, their believings and their outfit more than everyone in the motherland, building an invisible ghetto themselves in their “promised lands” (because why did they emigrate?) And this belief in the “purity of blood” is for long time a big illusion. Can you find any citizen of the USA without at least 1/16 of “negro blood” running in his veins, even if the skin is “white”? Didn’t people mix for centuries by falling in love with strangers? Just look at the names on any West-European house door: You’ll find there Sarrazin, Tekin, Yala, Citton, Schimansky, Müller, Brimelow and Birkin. As far as I know there is Jewish, English, German and Gypsy-blood in my veins. And they did not tell me all.

What to do? We should think about the world – it brings blood to our brain 🙂 and takes it from other body parts, and: As many as possible of us should begin to overcome this “blood fetishism”. No way to insist in purity and “honour”. We should put our human parts in foreground, shouldn’t we?

Daily mythology: Llandudno

llandudno

It is the largest and best loved sea-side resort in Wales, opening in the north of the country to the Irish Sea. The beach extends in between the Little Orme and the Great Orme. The latter shows the church of patron saint St. Dudno. He is said to be the son of a King, whose realm was flooded by the sea (for sure because that sinner loved alcohol and hedonist life). After that St. Doudno lived in a cave high upon the sea – which makes him, in my opinion, to a follower of St.Kevin of Ireland, but who will prove this? – and later – 6th century – he had a church built in his honour. In the 12th century the church was reneved and is still to be seen.

A huge graveyard covers the rest of Great Orme, until the 20th century the people of Llandudno burried their dead there. For the funeral the tramways of the town had three special wagons to get there, 1, 2 and 3.

In the 19th century a British family, the Liddells, regularly spent their holidays in Llandudno. For sure they went by tram too, but of course not with the wagons 1, 2 or 3. (No, they didn’t, the tram was only built in 1902)

The Liddell-family came from Oxford. The father was a dean there, along the customs the couple Lidell had several (6 or 7?) children. One of these was Alice Lidell.

In Oxford the Liddells made the aquaintance of Charles Lutwidge Dodgson. This man, a photographer, went to be a close friend of the kids and rather often took them to picnics or excursions. On one of those trips – by boat – Alice and two other sisters asked to have a story. Charles told them the story of Alice in Wonderland, taking Alice Liddell as the heroine of that, shall we say, fairytale?

Soon after Charles Lutwige Dodgson took the artist name Lewis Caroll and published that story. It went to be a huge success. Even nowadays nearly everbody knows “Alice in Wonderland”, some the following sequel  “Behind the looking glass”. Apparently children’s books these stories are holding deep secrets.

If you happen to travel by time-machine, go to Llandudno in a summer around 1850-60, you might meet with Alice Liddell, the role model for Alice in Wonderland.

Mythologie des Alltags: Montefiascone

Est Est Est

diese lampe leuchtet von demselben strom wie das ewige licht der heiligen christina, steht an der kirchenwand in bolsena zu lesen. das fronleichnamswunder kam pünktlich zum papstbesuch, schon in der renaissance gab es medien-events. überall setzten sich die berichterstatter eifrig vor ihre pergamente. die glöckchen läuteten. schon nach monaten las man in den entferntesten sprengeln davon, als ob man dabeigewesen wäre. die heilige christina hatte inzwischen das blut abgewischt und bewegte sich wieder frei und sicher. der tuff unter der bereits bräunlichen grasnarbe ist extrem saugfähig. auch hält er die feuchte, und in ihn gehauene weinkeller machen einen guten tropfen. der reisende weinprüfer kostet und kaut. ist er zufrieden, schreibt er “est” – isgut – an die kellerwand. so brauchts keinen michelinguide. hier im ort schrieb er “est, est, est”. der papst zog zügig weiter, aufrecht in seiner sänfte. ab und zu schleuderte er eine bannbulle.

Daily mythology: As Eastern came….

“On the first day of the Feast of Unleavened Bread, when it was customary to sacrifice…Jesus’ disciples asked him, ‘where do you want us to go…to color the Easter-eggs?’ ‘I tell you the truth, one of you will betray me…it is one of the twelve who eats chocolate hares with me.’ Later on Jesus was arrested an turned over to Pilate. ‘Whom shall I hide in the garden?’, Pilate asked the crowd. “The Easter-eggs, not Barrabas!’, they shouted.
On Easter morning Mary went into that garden, but she did not find the Lord, his place was empty, just Easter-eggs of all colors were to be found. An angel all in glittering clothes appeared and said: ‘Don’t be alarmed! You are looking for Jesus, but he’s not here, he has risen! Now collect the sweet things and go home, and don’t work on Monday too!’”