Maldivian Social Media, Maldives, Contemporary Maldives Hani Amir Maldivian Social Media, Maldives, Contemporary Maldives Hani Amir

#MenAreTrash hashtag sparks widespread debate and outrage on Maldivian twitter

The polarising hashtag caused an uproar and week long drama across the Maldivian twitterverse and tweeps debated the controversial topic. Are men trash? Are men trash, but is the wording wrong? Have people who say men are trash actually not met enough men who are not trash? Are women responsible for the men in their life being trash? Can they simply just filter them out? All this and more below. This is of course just a taste. I also did not include some of the nastier stuff from obvious troll accounts.

The polarising hashtag caused an uproar and week long drama across the Maldivian twitterverse as tweeps debated the controversial topic. Are men trash? Are men trash, but is the wording wrong? Have people who say men are trash actually not met enough men who are not trash? Are women responsible for the men in their life being trash? Can they simply just filter them out? All this and more below. This is of course just a taste. I also did not include some of the nastier stuff from obvious troll accounts.


May 25th - Day One


It all started with this tweet: 

Which instantly started backlash from the (Most) Men (You Know) Are Trash camp.

This group seemed to imply that most men were in fact not trash, and that it was more of an issue of who you knew. 

A woman also takes the opportunity to defend the men in their life

This causes debate and drama to occur over multiple days, some of which is detailed below 

 

May 26th - Day Two 

 

One tweep found the backlash amusing 

Another thought the whole thing was an issue of filtering out the trash 

This caused people to respond with some obvious truths 

One woman shared their experience of how they learned about feminism 

Another explained what feminism means to them 

 

 

May 27th - Day Three 

One tweep asked men to listen 

This prompted a man to ask if the hashtag was creating more division 

Another reflected on gender roles during Ramadan (or Roadha mas in Dhivehi)

Some tweeps reflected on the fragility of the male ego 

One man took it upon himself to sort the trash 

A man shared an account of an incident that he witnessed 

Another man wondered if the whole thing was a ploy for attention 

Yet another man insisted that there was no gender based discrimination in the Maldives, this time using the First Lady Madam Faathun simply existing as an example

Inside a long thread full of drama, one man decides that inequality doesn't exist in the Maldives 

This sparks off even more debate, and many women and men share their experiences. 

Rough translation of the text in quotes "When you marry someone you should just stay at home. Why should you frivolously spend on getting higher qualifications?"

Meanwhile a woman shared her very real story of discrimiation

One woman laid on the snark 

Another flipped the script

Another woman reflected on Maldivian culture and toxic masculinity 

Another expressed her frustrations

A man pointed out the irony of some of the backlash 

Reflections on the previous backlash faced by anti-harrasment campaign Nufoshey



May 28th - Day Four 

One tweep reflected on how they viewed the hashtag as a success

A woman shared their thoughts on the word "feminazi"

Another woman reflected on the messages taught to men in Maldivian media

A man showed his support for the movement 

A woman responded to people dismissing everything as useless drama

To which a man asked what the big deal was in the first place

Rough translation : "So what's the real problem with all the men anyways? (only then) can we attempt to solve the problem or try to help out with the situation. Just asking as a man. If there's something that's bothering you you should speak out, you shouldn't stay quiet."

An opressed man says he is scared to make eye contact with women because he might get labelled a harasser

Concluding drama

Alright I've embedded so many tweets that my browser is starting to slow down, so here are some concluding remarks

What has one of the men who sparked the initial backlash learnt from days of women sharing their experiences of discrimination?

Apparently not much 

If you want my opinion, I'd say hell yes, Maldivian men are trash. The country's appalling record on women's rights should speak for itself. No politician even mentions the need for abortions, which are still illegal and cause untold misery and stress for women who need to access this basic reproductive health service. Not to mention the Maldives has incredibly high rates of domestic violence, and a Guinness World Record for the highest number of divorces per capita. Many Maldivians still believe that women shouldn't be allowed to rule their country. Street harassment and abuse is widespread. This is without even getting into the extremely taboo topic of the rights of lesbian, bisexual or other non-cis women.

I think it says a lot that some men chose to police the people using the hashtag than confront the realities of what it's like being a woman in the Maldives. I think the following two tweets below sum up my feelings quite well. 

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​ Mohamed Nazim’s 2010 confession - a turning point for Maldivian minorities

That battle had been won. Maumoon Abdul Gayoom’s 30 year rule had come to a close. Maldivians had finally arrived in the “anneh dhivehiraajje” (other Maldives) that was promised by Mohamed Nasheed and the Maldivian Democratic Party. A different Maldives. One with liberty and justice, where people would be free to express themselves, to be themselves.

It was in this intoxicating atmosphere of promised progress that Mohamed Nazim boldly asked Zakir Naik what the punishment for apostasy in Islam was. He said the question was important to him as he himself was an atheist. What was the penalty for him, he asked, standing in the middle of a crowd buzzing with shock and rage. One can only imagine the fear, clearly visible through his body language, that he must have felt at that moment. Naik, perhaps not wanting the bad press of a murder happening at one of his events, deflected the question and said that it would be up to the Maldivian government to decide. And decide they would.

That battle had been won. Maumoon Abdul Gayoom’s 30 year rule had come to a close. Maldivians had finally arrived in the “anneh dhivehiraajje” (other Maldives) that was promised by Mohamed Nasheed and the Maldivian Democratic Party. A different Maldives. One with liberty and justice, where people would be free to express themselves, to be themselves.

It was in this intoxicating atmosphere of promised progress that Mohamed Nazim boldly asked Zakir Naik what the punishment for apostasy in Islam was. He said the question was important to him as he himself was an atheist. What was the penalty for him, he asked, standing in the middle of a crowd buzzing with shock and rage. One can only imagine the fear, clearly visible through his body language, that he must have felt at that moment. Naik, perhaps not wanting the bad press of a murder happening at one of his events, deflected the question and said that it would be up to the Maldivian government to decide. And decide they would.

Mohamed Nazim would have likely not left the stadium alive if not for a police escort that promptly swooped him out of the stadium and into police custody. This, of course, was for his own safety. Amidst an outpouring of national rage and hatred, the likes of which the Maldives had never seen before, Nazim was counselled on the error of his ways by religious scholars. Which was also obviously for his own safety as well. We wouldn’t want him to go to hell after all. Before long, Nazim had repented, and publicly apologised for his lapse in judgement. His question and confession was on the 28th of May 2010, his repentance was on the 1st of June. He hadn't even lasted a week. The elephant thoroughly shot and buried, the nation rejoiced. Was this final act sincere, or was it also out of fearing for his own safety? We may never know exactly what was going through Mohamed Nazim’s mind at that point, but for Maldivian minorities the message was clear. Keep quiet or die.

During his jailing there was no outcry from local politicians, NGOs, or activists calling on the Maldivian government to respect the UDHR and the right to freedom of conscience. The right to think for oneself, the right to choose your own belief is a universal human right that is respected everywhere in the world (at least on paper) except for a handful of countries - the Maldives sharing the most similarities with Saudi Arabia; where citizens are legally obligated to be Muslim in order to be citizens. Maumoon had hammered in the myth that the Maldives was a 100% Islamic nation. What happened to Mohamed Nazim proved that this statistic would be enforced, no matter the cost.

Where was the promise of freedom? Where was the promise of liberty? Within underground discussion groups, both online and in the real world, the vibe had changed from hopeful to a sense of looming dread. Was it alright to speak our minds? Were we free to believe what we want? Were we truly living in the “other” Maldives, or was this just business as usual?

If Mohamed Nazim’s treatment was the turning point, the events that would transpire in just a little over a years time was the dagger in the back.

On 10th December 2011 a small group of protesters gathered at artificial beach to have a silent gathering in the name of tolerance. In uncertain times they tested the waters, and found it to be full of sharks feasting on the blood of hypocrites.

They were attacked in broad daylight. Hilath Rasheed would have his skull fractured. Photographs of the attackers were taken and their names were known. Reports were made to the police. Yet, under Mohamed Nasheed’s “other” Maldives, the police decided to investigate the protestors instead. Soon politicians were calling for the incident to be investigated, not because of the gross violation of the rights of the protestors, but because the protestors posed some threat to the nebulous concept of Islam.

The dagger was thrust deep, and there in our backs it has stayed. The message was clear. Stay quiet or die. No one would help us. No one would protect us. No one would even acknowledge us. This is why first hand accounts from Maldivian minorities are so rare. This is why you will most likely never hear from a Maldivian minority who does not use a pseudonym or alias. The danger is too great. Not only from the extremists who would carry out the deed, but also from the broader population who would enable them.

We know first hand that even if Abdulla Yameen’s dictatorship were to fall, nothing would change for us. Those that tell us to work with them for the greater good would abandon us the moment their own factions gain power. History would repeat itself and the other Maldives would be nothing more than another mirage.

So, for our own safety, we stay quiet. Thousands of Maldivian ex-Muslims, atheists, buddhists, christians, LGBTQIA+ people, and countless others, suffering in silence because we cannot even trust our own family members, let alone the police, to keep us safe. Thousands of Maldivians whose stories you have never heard. Someday you will hear from us all, and history will not remember kindly those who told us to stay silent.

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The Male' City Swimming Track

Chapter 01 of my work in progress book "Sinking Streets". 

Chapter 02 - Doorways to the Sea

Chapter 03 - The Laadheenee Among Us

I am floating on my back with my eyes closed. The sun is beating down on my face from above. The rumbling monster of the city is silenced and for a moment I forget about the stress that brought me here. The fresh morning air is tainted with the smell of diesel. I exhale and sink further down under the water’s surface.

Expired Disposable Underwater Tropicolor 35mm film camera
(2007)

Chapter 01 of my work in progress book "Sinking Streets". 

Chapter 02 - Doorways to the Sea

Chapter 03 - The Laadheenee Among Us

I am floating on my back with my eyes closed. The sun is beating down on my face from above. The rumbling monster of the city is silenced and for a moment I forget about the stress that brought me here. The fresh morning air is tainted with the smell of diesel. I exhale and sink further down under the water’s surface.

Canon PowerShot G10
(2009)

The smell disappears. The water feels cold on my face and I feel goosebumps rise along my arms. My heartbeat steadily quickens as my body craves oxygen. I rise from the illusion and the endless noise of the city once again swarms my consciousness.

“Pretty cold today huh,” I remark to my friend while feeling the bumps along my arm. She’s sitting in waist deep water on the shallow side towards the tripod rocks.

Pentax Optio M30
2008)

“I bet you’re gonna miss this once you’re gone,” she said laughing.

She was right. I haven’t been out for a proper swim ever since I’d moved to Tasmania. My heart aches for the ocean. It is so close, yet it is so cold and unforgiving that its existence might as well be a mirage. My brief forays have been anything but enjoyable. A shivering overtakes the body and you feel your core begin to tighten up. It becomes difficult to breath and an icy panic begins to set in. Things seem different for those that learnt how to swim here. I see them dive effortlessly off their private yachts from where they swim sometimes great distances to the shore. Perhaps one day I will get used to it as well.

 

 When I tell people that I am Maldivian their first reaction is one of barely concealed envy. “Wow! What a beautiful place! You must be so lucky!”. I am quick to correct them that no, I am not from the Maldives as much as I am from Male’ City.

Male' City from above.

Image via Google Earth.
© 2016 Digital Globe

Male’ City is a very different place from the rest of the Maldives. It has no natural beaches, and when I was very young the Track was the only place that people went swimming regularly. I, like many other residents of Male’ city, learnt how to swim there. “Track ah’ hingaa dhaan! (let’s go to the Track!)”, is a phrase that is familiar to young and old alike.

Canon PowerShot G10
(2009)

The Male' City Swimming Track.
Nikon D70s
(2009)

Canon PowerShot G10
(2009)

By the time that I was a teenager the government had created what they called the “Artificial Beach” on the East side of the island, but the fact that it was crowded, incredibly shallow and usually smelled even worse than the Track made it a less popular option. You could also of course try your luck in the Raalhugandu area, but the chaotic surf makes this unpleasant, and the shallower side is far too shallow with too many rocks to actually go swimming.

The Artificial Beach at low tide.
Henveiru ward
Nikon D70s
(2007)

Girl stares at her own reflection at the Artifical Beach.
Henveiru ward
Nikon D70s with 50mm f/1.8 AF-D
(2008)

Artificial Beach and Raalhugandu from the air.

Image via Google Earth.
© 2016 Digital Globe

Young woman meditates while sitting on a rock at the shallower side of Raalhugandu.
Raalhugandu
Henveiru ward
Pentax Optio M30
(2008)

The current Yameen administration has made a second artificial beach on the West side of the island that seems larger and a lot nicer, but I cannot speak about it as I have not been back to the Maldives since its creation a few years ago. All the photographs included in this essay are thus taken between 2006 and 2009. It was a time before GoPros and other action cams had become mainstream. Most of the photographs were therefore taken by using compact cameras in waterproof plastic cases and then later a hard case once I had purchased myself a Canon G10 in mid-2009. There are also a few photographs that were taken using an expired disposable underwater camera from Tropicolour. 

Expired Disposable Underwater Tropicolor 35mm film camera
(2007)

The area you could swim in used to be much longer and when I was a child the boats were limited to the very edge. As a result the water used to be a lot clearer and less polluted. This also meant that the Track was a lot more accessible to the public and thus less crowded.

The area of the track you could swim in used to extend from the harbour on the lower left to a bit beyond where it ends on the far right.

Image via Google Earth.
© 2016 Digital Globe

Close up of current track area with swimming buoys visible in the middle.

Image via Google Earth.
© 2016 Digital Globe

The barrier which now separates the track from the rest of the harbour.
Nikon D70s
(2007)

The track side on the left of the barrier.

The harbour side on the right of the barrier.

One of my earliest memories is going swimming there with my Father and some cousins. I was a child and barely knew how to swim so I clung to his back as he swam across the divide. Two thirds of the way there he spotted an abandoned suitcase on the bottom. He tells me to wait as he dives down below. I nervously tread water and open my eyes underwater to watch his descent. He glides down and picks it up off the bottom. A cloud of dust surrounds him. He resurfaces and shakes his head. I grab onto his shoulders and we continue our journey across to the tripod rocks. It is my first memory of swimming by myself.

Canon PowerShot G10
(2009)

Along the island facing side there used to be moored many barges, or “bandu” (literally: stomach or belly). Off these rusting Goliath's young people used to ride their bikes straight into the water. Sometimes they’d do a flourish in the air, sometimes they’d just tumble in, but they all remembered to kick the bikes away lest it hit them on the way down.

With great effort they would then pull up the sunken bikes so that they and their friends can have another go. Too young to have my own bike and too shy to talk to them, I used to just watch in awe. “One day I’m going to ride my bike off a bandu!” I’d think to myself, fantasising about all the cool aerial manoeuvres I’d pull off.

Canon PowerShot G10
(2009)

Canon PowerShot G10
(2009)

 

Back then instead of the swimming practises being restricted to the floating constructions in the middle of the track, they used to be conducted perpendicular to the sea wall. Our laps would almost always consist of swimming from the road side to the tripod rocks and back. “Do 20 laps!”, our instructor would say, seemingly oblivious to the fact that a lack of proper markings meant that each consecutive lap would be shorter from the far side.

Despite it still being cleaner than what it is like now, it was still far from the pristine waters depicted in tourist propaganda. Everyone would always have some itch or rash that they were suffering from; probably in no small part due to a mysterious blue pipe that was constantly pumping out a warm toxic cloud of god knows what. Ironically that pipe was how most of us got out of the track. There were no ladders so it provided firm enough ground from which you could grab onto the edge and pull yourself up. You could try to grip and push off the side of the wall itself, but this usually resulted in cut feet from the barnacles or worse - breaking off the brittle spines of a sea urchin; which was almost impossible to remove from your feet.

Trying to edge it out with a needle, as you would do with a splinter, only makes the situation worse as the delicate spine begins to disintegrate. One local remedy, which I have been subjected to multiple times, is to lather the foot in rihaakuru (fish paste from tuna) and to then hover them over a burning fire. The rihaakru heats up, which in turn heats up the embedded spine which then allegedly begins to melt off. I am still suspicious about the efficacy of this treatment, and whether the intense pain was worth it, as it never seemed to remove all of the spines.

By far the best thing about those practices was the sense of community it fostered. Each parent would bring something different for the long weekend sessions; favourites being chilled Milo with sweetened condensed milk instead of sugar and oranges coated in pure glucose powder. Even though the energy drink craze was many decades away we were never lacking in a source of incredibly unhealthy energy.

A highlight for me was taking part in the 2-kilometre race which was swum parallel from one end of the harbour to the track and back again. I came in last, but at least I managed to finish it. I was also, if I recall correctly, about 12 years old at the time; and thus at a considerable size disadvantage compared to most of the other participants to say the least.

Young man screams into the water.
Canon PowerShot G10
(2009)

For a lot of people, the Track was the closest you could get to escaping the claustrophobic heat of the inner city short of leaving the island itself. Many people would sit around the shallow side in waist high water, submerged up to their necks, chatting about current events. Others would sit on or cling to the outer side of the swimming platform - the inner usually being occupied by the swimming practices of various schools.

Women hang onto the edge of the platform.

Another favourite activity was to dive into the water from the road side. Some people would even start from the opposite pavement. They would wait patiently for traffic to cease, after which they would dash across; spring boarding into the water from the concrete at the last possible moment.

Pentax Optio M30
(2007)

I loved the rush of that split second before contact when you are suspended in the air. People would really try to push their luck, sometimes coming within inches of scraping themselves on the rocks which were lined up against the wall of that area of the track. The most impressive jump I’ve ever seen was from this man who flew so far that he managed to land inside the floating swim area, his feet just barely making it past the buoys.

Pentax Optio M30
(2007)

Canon PowerShot G10
(2009)

The swimming platforms themselves had gone through various iterations before finally settling on the ones made from seemingly indestructible orange and blue plastic buoys that are there today. If I remember correctly they used empty barrels to keep the old wooden platforms afloat. Swimming lanes would be created by ropes that would extend between buoys. As a result these older versions were much less rigid and were prone to drift around in the current.

One of the old platforms.
Nikon D70s
(2007)

Boy sits at the edge of one of the older iterations of the swimming platforms.
Nikon D70s
(2007)

This photograph was taken around the time the new platform was constructed. The older platform lays discarded in the background.
Nikon D70s
(2007)

One of the greatest pleasures in life is to go for a swim when its raining on a hot day. Oh how I miss that feeling. The rain pounds down from above, an onslaught of tepid fat drops that instantly soaks you to the bone. When you make your way into the water, the relative cool of the air makes the water feel extra warm; almost as if it is heated.

Boy stands on plank of floating wood held up by his friends while a rainbow arcs overhead. Looking through my archives I didn't seem to have any photographs of when it was actually raining. I must have been enjoying it too much.
Canon PowerShot G10
(2009)

The sound of the rain against the water drowns out the noise of the city. The sound is hypnotic. Meditative. The complete opposite of what one is used to hearing. No more rumbling machinery. No more buzzing drills and slamming hammers. The roads, normally packed with motorcycles, clear out. The rain also creates the illusion of privacy. One feels safe within the storm, and emboldened by this torrential veil, couples hold each other closer than they would have in the sun.

The STELCO towers from the water on a stormy day.
Canon PowerShot G10
(2009)

Your Track experience really isn’t complete unless you’ve been smacked across the face with a used condom at least once. Conservative attitudes and cramped quarters means that people don’t have much room to breathe; and if you don’t have space to talk in private with a loved one, just imagine how little space there is to have sex. Couples embrace along the floating barriers and sometimes even inside the crevices formed by the tripod rocks.

Girl sits meditating on the tripod rocks staring out to sea.
Expired Disposable Underwater Tropicolor 35mm film camera
(2007)

The tripod rocks themselves could be the basis of its own essay. In a similar manner to how the Track forms a barrier against the bustle of the city, the tripod rocks form a refuge from the Track itself. When I was in primary school I’d listen wide eyed to the tall tales of my cool friend who’d tell me all about his older brother who would go there to smoke cigars in secret. When I was older my friends who smoked cigarettes would continue the tradition by carrying their packs and lighters wrapped up in plastic bags. They would climb to the top of the rocks, unpack their bounty, light up and breathe deeply while staring off into the expanse of the ocean beyond the horizon.

The view from the tripod rocks faces south, away from the atoll.

Image via Google Earth.
© 2016 Digital Globe
© 2016 CNES / Astrium

When you are looking away from the island in that direction for a few brief moments it is as if the city behind you doesn’t exist. The ocean breeze feels fresh and untainted and the sound of the waves constantly crashing down on the rocks drowns out all but the most obnoxious of motorists. Many lovers have sat there, holding hands and staring off into the distance, wondering what the future holds.

View from the rocks at dusk.
View from the rocks at dusk.
Nikon D70s
(2007)

Boy stands on top of the lower section of tripod rocks. These breaks relieve pressure on the rest of the rocks by allowing waves to enter.
Canon PowerShot G10
(2009)

People making their way back off the rocks.
Canon PowerShot G10
(2009)

Shoals of fish gathering near the rocks on the island facing side.
Canon PowerShot A630
(2008)

Unlike a regular swimming pool, sterile and barren, the Track is full of marine life. In many ways it is its own ecosystem, with new arrivals constantly swimming in through the gaps of the tripod rocks. A dead dolphin even made an appearance at one of the practice sessions and caused quite the commotion.

Shoal of small fish underneath the swimming platform.
Canon PowerShot G10
(2009)

The underside of the plastic buoys that make up the current platform is completely covered in moss and other organisms.
Canon PowerShot G10
(2009)

Waves crashing in from where the tripod rocks are lower. This is where most new arrivals enter.
Canon PowerShot A630
(2008)

Various fish swim along the barrier which separates the track from the boats.
Canon PowerShot A630
(2008)

It is a common sight to see small specimens of different kinds of filolhu (a type of fish from the Lethrinidae family - commonly known as emperors) cruising along the sandy bottom. Sometimes this bottom is covered with a certain jellyfish that has the appearance of a cake covered in many little candles.

Close up of the "candles" on one of the "cake" jellyfish.
Canon PowerShot G10
(2009)

A spiky pufferfish swims by.
Pentax Optio M30
(2008)

Some type of blenny or goby resting on the bottom.
Canon PowerShot G10
(2009)

An anemone trying to survive.
Canon PowerShot G10
(2009)

A lot of young people, myself included, would sometimes try to catch a type of pipefish (a relative of the seahorse) with our hands as it often rested along the rocky shallows. Chasing them around provided a fun challenge; although it does seem cruel and unnecessary in retrospect.

The bottom of the track. No pristine white sands here.
Canon PowerShot A630
(2008)

A resting pipefish.
Canon PowerShot A630
(2008)

The tripod rocks are always covered with several types of sea snails and a type of crab. The crabs would sit around in groups picking off bits of moss with their claws. When it was time for them to moult, they would climb up onto higher ground and discard their shells. People would often collect these perfectly preserved carapaces as souvenirs.

Crab sits on the exposed tip of a submerged rock.
Nikon Coolpix 3200
(2007)

A close up of one of the crabs. This photograph was taken at Raalhugandu. The same species is present all around the island.
Henveiru ward
Nikon D70s
(2007)

 

The state of life in the Track seems to be on the decline. When I was young I’d go with my mother and hunt for raakani, a kind of shellfish that is delicious when barbecued. We’d find them along the bottom and along the shallower parts of the ocean facing side. We kept it up for a few months until we stopped finding them. Perhaps others were doing the same and we were all actively hurting the ecosystem.

A sea urchin covered in a plastic bag. This type is not dangerous as the spikes are a lot short, blunt and much less prone to breaking off.
Canon PowerShot G10
(2009)

Similarly, when I was a teenager I used to accompany some friends who would go hunting in the track for lion fish and other exotic species for their marine tank. These adventures followed a similar pattern. A time of abundance followed by a slow decline until eventually we were barely catching anything at all.

 

Canon PowerShot G10
(2009)

One thing that was never in short supply is trash. All kinds of trash. You name it, it’s there. Bottles, cooking utensils, chairs, entire beds, all manner of plastic and food wrappers, cigarette butts, pens, pencils, cans, clothing, national flags, motor parts; if it was something that someone in Male’ city had used it at some point, then it was almost a certainty that you'd find it at the track.

Other than various sporadic efforts to clean up the place by youths and various other organisations, there isn’t really a system in place to manage the trash.
Pentax Optio M30
(2007)

Maldivian’s have an extremely nonchalant attitude towards waste disposal. A clue is in our word for beach - “gondudhoh”; which literally translates to by the (dhoh) trash dump (gondu). In islands that still have beaches, the tradition is maintained by turning one side of the island into a complete ecological disaster. Many islands I’ve visited have had this side completely inaccessible as the bottom is covered with dangerous trash such as broken glass and hundreds of little cans of tomato paste. Another historical use of the beach was to defecate - the method being to dig a small hole in the sand which one would cover afterwards. This was even the case in Male’ for when my parents’ generation was young as back then the island still had some of its beaches intact. They would tell us stories to gross us out, about how bad the place smelled, and how they would occasionally step on someone else’s business accidentally.

The current residents of Male’ City are no longer so lucky, so perhaps in a strange way, dumping endless amounts of trash into one of the few places they can still go for a swim is their way of having a gondudhoh of their own.

A small Maldivian flag lays discarded at the bottom of the track.
Pentax Optio M30
(2007)

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The Laadheenee Among Us
The Laadheenee Among Us

Chapter 03 of my work in progress book "Sinking Streets". 

Chapter 01 - The Male’ City Swimming Track

Chapter 02 - Doorways to the Sea

 

Doorways to the Sea
Doorways to the Sea

Chapter 02 of my work in progress book "Sinking Streets". 

Our lives are framed by doorways. These portals that open onto the street. In Male’ City, there is no such thing as a front yard. There are more cemeteries than parks – a good thing as a lot of the trees that have not been felled exist within their walls. A lot can happen in these doorways. Lovers flirt, children play, the old watch a rapidly changing world pass them by. If you are lucky the doorway will open to a path instead of straight inside your home.

The Male' City Swimming Track
The Male' City Swimming Track

Chapter 01 of my work in progress book "Sinking Streets". 

Chapter 02 - Doorways to the Sea

Chapter 03 - The Laadheenee Among Us

I am floating on my back with my eyes closed. The sun is beating down on my face from above. The rumbling monster of the city is silenced and for a moment I forget about the stress that brought me here. The fresh morning air is tainted with the smell of diesel. I exhale and sink further down under the water’s surface.

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Game Dev, satire, Downloads, Video Games Hani Amir Game Dev, satire, Downloads, Video Games Hani Amir

Mausteroids.exe - An asteroids clone featuring Maumoon Abdul Gayoom

This is a game I created using GMS following Sean Spaulding's excellent tutorials. It's expanded quite heavily upon from what you get just following the tutorial, with too many additions to count, but is far from finished. Since I don't plan on working on it anymore I've decided to upload it for novelty's sake.  Currently the objective of the game is survive 30 waves - one for each year of Maumoon's dictatorship. The game is boring, repetitive and gruelling. Just like living in a dictatorship, hooray! All of the pixel art was hand drawn using Pixaki. The music is a loop of my songs "Male' City" and "Space Cadet". Most of the sound effects were created using Bfxr.

 

You can download a windows exe here: 

Mausteroids.exe
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Dhivehi Art, Dhivehi Media Industry, Maldives Hani Amir Dhivehi Art, Dhivehi Media Industry, Maldives Hani Amir

The Dhivehi Film Industry - An analysis of Reeko Moosa's Dhanmalhi (1993) [PART ONE]

Dhanmalhi is a 1993 made for television drama which was written and directed by Reeko Moosa, who also plays the lead character.  This is part one of my analysis. 

 

Dhanmalhi (noose) is a 1993 made for television drama which was written and directed by Reeko Moosa, who also plays the lead character.  

 

The Cast and credits

Idhrees, the husband / protagonist - played by Reeko Moosa.

Fareedha (Faree), the wife / antagonist - played by Lilian.

Hafsa (Hafu), the co-worker / mistress - played by Suneetha. 

Husseinfulhu be', the older friend / nosy neighbour / sexist bastard - played by Koyya Hassan Maniku. 

Fareedha's mother, the matriarch - played by Aarifaa. 

Solih, the boss - played by Shakir. 

Zakariyya be' - Fareedha's father, who is not shown on screen, yet unlike her mother has a name. 

Sato - also not seen onscreen, appears to be the friend / love interest whom Fareedha is always on the phone with.

 

Story:
Reeko Moosa

Director:
Reeko Moosa 

Camera:
Mohamed Maniku
Mohamed Rasheed (Thuttey)

Editor:
Moosa Haleem

Lighting:
Moosa Haleem
Mohamed Maniku
Mohamed Rasheed

Technical help:
Nasrullah
Zahiru (Dhali)
Shujau
Musthafa
Hamidh  

Locations 

The film takes place over five locations; the home, the office, Husseinfulhu be's house, Hafsa's house and the city. 

 

The Home (Idhrees and Fareedha's house)

Idhrees grabs some clothes from the cupboard while Fareedha watches television.

Idhrees grabs some clothes from the cupboard while Fareedha watches television.

This is where the majority of the film takes place; it is where it begins and where it ends. It is mostly a stage for the conflict between Idhrees and Fareedha.

The Streets of Male' City

Idhrees cycles to work.

Idhrees cycles to work.

The city acts as a transitioning point; and Idhrees is often shown cycling between destinations. Despite not featuring as heavily as the other locations, several important plot points occur here. 

The Office

Idhrees looks at the horizon as he rides the elevator to his high rise office.

Idhrees looks at the horizon as he rides the elevator to his high rise office.

The stage for several flirtatious scenes between Idhrees and Hafsa. Their boss, Solih, is only seen here. He seems to encourage the budding romance; probably as he seems to see Idhrees' tardiness as a result of some sort of failing by Fareedha. 

Husseinfulhu be's House

Idhrees takes a seat in the dojo of enlightenment

Idhrees takes a seat in the dojo of enlightenment

This is Husseinfulhu be's temple, the place where he educates fools like Idhrees on how to be a man. In the one and only scene to occur here, Husseinfulhu be' lures Idhrees in with some tale about needing help with a letter, only to start berating him about how he is completely failing at controlling his woman. 

Hafsa's House

Hafsa serves Idhrees some tea and short eats.

Hafsa serves Idhrees some tea and short eats.

Idhrees and Hafsa continue their office romance here. Idhrees is at first reluctant to go but when he finally does, he has such a good time that they chat away until almost midnight. 

Sponsored Message

Plot Summary - The story of Idhrees

To write a plot summary of this drama is to write the story of the progression that Idhrees' character undergoes. The only people who change in this film are Idhrees and his wife, Fareedha. The movie begins with Idhrees being late to work. Fareedha's character is introduced when he returns home. Apparently ill, she is seen lazing around watching television. She is shown as deceptive, lazy and manipulative.  She even makes Idhrees sleep on the floor on a mattress. This is how her character is presented throughout the drama until her transformation at the end. Idhrees himself is shown as being timid and subservient; something which only begins to change when he is caught red handed trying to clean a cooking pot by his older friend Husseinfulhu be'. 

Idhrees tries to explain it off by saying he was checking for leaks but Husseinfulhu be' sees right through it and invites Idhrees over his house where he begins to "educate" Idhrees about what marriage is "actually" supposed to be like. He explains how Fareedha is never going to change and how she was completely failing at her "duties" as a wife. He really stresses the point that any domestic chores are beneath the level of a man and sounds like he is embarrassed by the state of Idhrees' marriage. He even criticizes Fareedha's widowed mother for "going from house to house" every day instead of moving in with Idhrees and helping out with the housework. Husseinfulhu be's role throughout the film is both of patriarchal mentor and creepy stalker; and he is of often seen spying on Idhrees. There is one scene where Idhrees is forced to bring some refreshments by Fareedha when her mother visits (the horror!); at first he brings in the drinks without any glasses and Fareedha berates him about this, telling him to go back and get some; all the while Husseinfulhu be' is seen staring at them through their window, shaking his head disapprovingly. Despite this, the film never presents Husseinfulhu be' in a negative light. His nosiness and stalking is somehow justified because of his "wisdom" that he himself proclaims he came about by "no accident". 

The movie contrasts Fareedha's gloominess and apparent laziness and failings as a wife with Hafsa; who is shown as doting, caring and cheerful. When she is flirting with Idhrees she often questions why he is with her at all; asking several times if the reason Idhrees puts up with Fareedha is because she is somehow incredibly beautiful.

Calling over the office intercom, Hafsa invites Idhrees over to her house after work, claiming that it's her birthday and at first Idhrees refuses. However he does go there the next day (complete with shot of Husseinfulhu be' spying on him as he travels there), where he is spoilt with tea, short eats and Hafsa's affections. In this setting Idhrees is positively beaming - a stark contrast to the gloominess his face betrays at home. Hafsa once again asks why Idhrees bothers with his marriage; and he explains that he is from a poor rural family and that he moved to the city when he was quite young, and says that even if he were to divorce Hafsa, he'd be the one who'd suffer as he'd be without a home. They chat away until almost midnight. 

The late return of Idhrees angers Fareedha who accuses him of being up to no good. Idhrees denies it all. This cycle continues for a few scenes until Fareedha and her mother catch Idhrees travelling between houses. Husseinfulhu be' is also seen in the background spying on all of them. Why Husseinfulhu be' has so much time on his hands and how he knows exactly where all of this is going on is never explained. He is quite the creep. 

When Idhrees once again returns late at night and Fareedha immediately begins to lay into him. They have a violent argument and as it is going on Husseinfulhu be' knocks on the door. Idhrees eventually leaves, telling Husseinfulhu be' that nothing happened. Husseinfulhu be' sticks behind and gives a stern talk to Fareedha about how she should be behaving as a wife and how she shouldn't be jumping to conclusions without proof; saying that Allah gave her the ability to think for a reason. He says that she isn't that beautiful and that she should be thankful that Idhrees doesn't go off with someone else. He says that it's an outrage that she makes Idhrees do domestic chores and that it's practically making him die of shame. All the while gentle music plays; giving the impression that he's giving some kind of enlightened talk. Once again why Husseinfulhu be' is lurking around their place in the dark of the night is not explained at all. 

Idhrees returns and Fareedha begins to argue with him - but not for long! The transformed Idhrees slams her onto the bed and tells her how things are going to be from now on. He tells her he is tired of her crap and that she isn't so beautiful or caring that he has to be nice to her. He says that she is no longer going to make him do anything, and that from now on she has to do the cooking and housework and asks if she thinks him mad. Idhrees even literally says that he is the husband (firi-meehaa) and therefore the master (veri-meehaa). He says she is going to just have to live with him and that he won't even divorce her. All the while Fareedha lies meekly on the bed. He leaves for a brief moment, only to return to remove her from the bed and says that he is the one who'll sleep there now. The phone rings. It's Hafsa, who appears to confess to their illicit romance. Fareedha, who is now also transformed, says that she won't believe it at all and asks her to stop calling.

The next morning, a very dolled up Fareedha wakes Idhrees up and gets him a glass of water. She asks him to go shower and says that the days of him being to late are now over. She gives a dopey smile towards him and makes the bed, and then begins laying out his office clothes. Idhrees returns and she helps him with his clothes and straitens his tie. The film ends with a shot of him turning and winking at the camera, doting wife at his side. It's this wink that gives away the true intentions of the film makers - this isn't a sad tale of a broken and abusive marriage; this is the tale of a henpecked husband triumphantly putting his wife in her "place". 

The film makers conception of a healthy marriage

So what are the outcomes of this "happy" ending? Fareedha, now knows that she is nothing special and that Idhrees can just dump her for someone else. She now has a clear threat of abandonment and infidelity as a motivator for being a "good" wife. 

How the filmmakers define just what exactly a "good" wife is revealed through the dialogue of the various characters. First and foremost she must be beautiful. This is repeated by Idhrees, Hafsa and Husseinfulhu be' when they all question this quality in Fareedha. Hafsa asks Idhrees early on if Fareedha possesses some kind of exceptional beauty; with the implication being that this beauty would excuse her other perceived failings. These failings include not doing any house work, the even worse crime of making her husband have to do any housework, not bringing in tea and treats when guests visit, being generally lazy, not waking up Idhrees on time for work and helping him get ready,  not ironing and washing his clothes, not cooking, and generally just being terrible at meeting the expectations that have been set for her as a house wife.

She is also presented as being deceptive; throughout the film she says she claims to be ill - something which Husseinfulhu be' says is an excuse she makes to not do any house work. She is shown spending her time watching shows, some with vulgar English language,  and talking to some unknown party on the phone; who is hinted to be man named Sato. He is briefly mentioned in a conversation between Fareedha and her mother; her mother asks what Sato has been upto, and she says that he told her that some mutual friend had gotten married, and that he was wondering if that was in his future too. Fareedha is thus also presented as being unfaithful. 

When it comes to Idhrees' infidelities, he is shown as being driven towards it by Fareedha's failings; rather than occurring because of any fault of his. There is not much doubt that their's was a truly loveless marriage. In this way it can be said that it is Hafsa who embodies the characteristics of the ideal woman; and thus the ideal wife. In many ways she is the opposite of Fareedha. She is always smiling, and seems quite enthusiastic about pleasing Idhrees. 

Idhrees even tells Hafsa at one point that the only reason he hasn't gotten a divorce is because he would have nothing to gain if he went through with it; in particular the fact that he did not own the house. Idhrees reveals this with a yarn about being a poor boy from the islands who had moved to Male' at a young age with barely anything to his name. Despite his earnest appeal, the implication seems to be that he'd readily divorce Fareedha if he were to somehow get the property.

It is perhaps because of this that later, during his transformative scene, he stresses the fact that he is not going to divorce her. He was going to be her husband, and in his words her literal master, and there would be nothing she could do about it. Could it be that what he really desired was her property? In that same regard, could it be that Fareedha's "failings" were part of a plan to get Idhrees to divorce her; all a man has to do is utter the words and later get his claim verified by the court. A woman, on the other hand, has to deal with a whole lot more bureaucracy. 

Whatever the case, divorce was now unnecessary, with Fareedha being transformed into a perfect wife virtually over night. The new and improved Fareedha is now unquestioningly loyal, and wakes up earlier than Idhrees to makes sure that he can get to work on time. She has his clothes at the ready, and even assures him that he won't be needing to use his alarm to wake up on time anymore. 

This whole issue of Idhrees being late to work is a major plot point, with the movie beginning and ending with its introduction and resolution. So is this a movie about being late to work? Or is it a movie about the responsibilities of women? 

 

Part two and conclusion soon.

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Maldivians freak out over harmless gesture from Maldivian Idol contestant

The recent launch of the Maldivian version of the hit "Idol" format by TVM is one of the most significant events in Maldivian TV history. The show is by no means perfect, but it is one of the first times that Maldivians from all over the country have had a platform to show their talents. It is inspiring to see the joy on the faces of contestants who make the cut. Part of its purpose also seems to be to give the impression that the Maldives is a lot more progressive than it actually is. Probably a move by the Yameen administration to improve it's image abroad. Whatever the case, the show is commendable for sticking to it's progressive values. Predictably the backlash from the conservative crowd has already begun, with many calling to boycott the show for being "laadheenee" or irrelgious and "against Islam". 

The recent launch of the Maldivian version of the hit "Idol" format by TVM is one of the most significant events in Maldivian TV history. The show is by no means perfect, but it is one of the first times that Maldivians from all over the country have had a platform to show their talents. It is inspiring to see the joy on the faces of contestants who make the cut. Part of its purpose also seems to be to give the impression that the Maldives is a lot more progressive than it actually is. Probably a move by the Yameen administration to improve it's image abroad. Whatever the case, the show is commendable for sticking to it's progressive values. Predictably the backlash from the conservative crowd has already begun, with many calling to boycott the show for being "laadheenee" or irrelgious and "against Islam". 

The latest of this hysteria involves a screenshot of one of the contestants from the first episode caught in the blasphemous act of putting his hands together as a gesture of thanks towards one of the judges. 

How could the heathen! 

Conservative rag Vaguthu, which was formerly known as MV Youth before multiple scandals involving their "journalists" stalking individuals forced them to "rebrand", was quick to run an article to add fuel to the flames. 

First of all this guys writing is terrible. Each paragraph, while not technically wrong, is just one long convoluted sentence without a comma in sight. Translating this is going to be annoying.

Translation: 

The national TV  (broadcaster?) which is is PSM, whose channel is TVM, which is currently airing "Maldivian Idol"... 

Ok screw this guys writing. All you need to know is how he described the gesture as "how the idol worshipers greet one another". 

It then goes into the "opinions" of people who have apparently commented on the photo while it was being circulated on "social media". The first of these upstanding citizens says that  the fact that the show was not aired live begs the question of why such "images that the Dhivehi community would not approve of" were not edited out in the final product. Clearly a conspiracy is afoot! 

The second person simply says "this is a very laadheenee image". How insightful!

The third directs his ire towards the government and says that this is "[something] laadheenee done by the dheenee (religious) government". 

A fourth asks whether people think about what they are doing when they support such blasphemy that is "against the religion". He then says something kind of incoherent about music and singing being sinful before calling on people to be fearful of god. 

Our amazing journalist ends the article by saying that even people that watch the show regularly have criticized the image. 

Of course the comments section was in full agreement, with most people bemoaning the sheer blasphemy of the act. Below are the five comments with the most "likes". They show great insight into the clash between the progressive ideals of the show vs the conservatism that is still very much a part of day to day Maldivian life. 


 

Gainee:

So it's okay when Unoosha hugs unmarried men (hiley firihenun, literally: free men)? 

Vestu: 

Woe (halaaku, literally: break, destruction) to Unoosha!

Gah'barey: 

Maldivian idol... Dhivehi statue (budhu, literally: idol, statue, figure)
Next they'll construct a Maldivian temple. 
Show like this will be held by sinful faajirun (I don't know what this last word means, probably something like malicious blasphemous bastard). 

Maldivian Idiot: 

What idiot are you holding(/airing/organizing - it is difficult to properly translate this first sentence)? Just a bunch of people who don't know what to do! If you have to go to Male' for a Quran competition the parents will say that they have no money and no place to stay. When it comes to participating in this, they suddenly have the money to make their kids to whatever they want. These Dhivehin want to leave their religion for the pleasures and merriment of this world. Anni said to have fun without fear. The people who said that statement was bad are now doing the same thing. Because he'll get asked about democracy when he's in the grave, right now Anni is busy in Europe ripening/developing democracy. What a kingdom this is. Idiots. 

Maree: 

There's nothing good about this idol of which you speak. Just loss and destruction. 

Aal: 

I call on the Islamic Ministry to ban such vile things. 

It will be interesting to see how the producers react to this growing negativity as the show progresses. The scale of the show means that this might be one of the first times where the silent and often hypocritical moderates are forced into confronting the ideals of their conservative counterparts. 

The whole show can be watched via YouTube. It's worth watching for the great mini-documentaries on contestants alone.  This format might be overdone in other places around the world, but for the Maldives it is a first. Anything that will help the country and it's people rise out of the sludge of conservatism and close mindedness is worthy of praise. I highly recommend it.  

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TVM Haze

The world has changed so much in the past few decades. The sheer amount of information we have accessible at our fingertips is sometimes hard to comprehend. If you are a person who has the privilege of internet access, the only excuse you have for your ignorance is yourself.

The world has changed so much in the past few decades. The sheer amount of information we have accessible at our fingertips is sometimes hard to comprehend. If you are a person who has the privilege of internet access, the only excuse you have for your ignorance is yourself.

So what then, can we say about a regime that chose to keep its subjects ignorant? For the longest time, all the way until 2008, the Maldivian public had access to only one public TV channel. Television gets a lot of flak for being responsible for dumbing down populations; but I am of the opinion that the people that hold such views are often people who have been spoiled for choice when it comes to such media.

Television Maldives, or TVM, was founded on March 29th 1978; the same year that one of Asia’s longest ruling dictators came to power. It would remain the only local TV station for the entirety of his rule. The 2nd TV station to be formed, DhiTV, was inaugurated by him in 2008; timed perhaps so that he can claim that he had allowed more than one TV station to operate during his 30 year rule from 1978 to 2008. There was also of course TVM Plus, a short lived paid iteration that started around the turn of the century – but it was so lacking in original content that it could barely classify as its own fully fledged channel.

To say the content on TVM was controlled would be an understatement. The quality of content was also quite terrible; with very few shows featuring original works by locals. The majority of what we saw were pirated shows and music videos that always looked as if they were covered in grease, and shot through a tattered veil. My memories of the Disney Classics for instance are caked in this grime. Cartoons such as this would be shown in the afternoon, starting around 5 o’clock. They would end abruptly at the call for Magrib and Isha prayers from around 6-7 and would return only with the news at 8. If you were lucky they’d continue where they left of the next day; and if they didn’t, too bad! The best you could do was hope that they’d have a re-run at some point.

The news itself would always talk more about the terrors going on in places such as Palestine more so than anything that was remotely relevant locally; with such news being mostly restricted to the goings on at schools, or to Maumoon inaugurating some new building. The opposition would always be characterised as thugs. Instead of using the word “protest” they would always use negative lingo like “disturbances” and “threats to the peace”.

The pirated foreign content was always heavily censored. This ranged from eliminating images of people drinking, kissing, hugging and having sex, to the bizarre removal of scenes where people take their coats off after being outside. The most paradoxical part about all this was the need to still show content and maintain the façade that Maldivians are still hip consumers of Western culture. For instance there were several music video shows that would show after the 2PM news, around 2:30, that were presented in English that focused almost entirely on Western music. Most of the videos shown on it would be entirely incoherent due to the majority of the video being censored out. The fact that they accomplished this, with music videos at least, was by constantly looping the “halal” sections made the whole affair incredibly confusing. For example “It wasn’t me” by Shaggy mostly consisted of looped footage of his conversations with Rikrok; along with the former constantly getting out of his car. Yet the song was so popular that a cover version sung at the interschool singing competition, in which the song lyrics were adapted to be about the local tale of Foolhudhiguhandi and Aiminaabee’, remained a hit for almost a year.

The most loved original content was without a doubt the various dramas and music videos made by the local film industry. Most of this was however incredibly lacking in imagination and consisted almost entirely of songs, and often entire movies, ripped off from Indian cinema. In this regard the local film industry was, and still is, utterly shameless. To make things worse the strict censorship laws and stifling atmosphere of those times meant that the subject matter was always mundane; dealing with enthralling topics such as standard domestic dramas and infidelity. Still, there is probably a lot we could learn from the analysis of media produced by the film industry in those times. What were the common themes? What was left unsaid in these dramas?  In what ways were the flamboyant dances of Indian cinema adapted to the apparently pious and god fearing Maldivian market? You could write a whole book about the psychology and sociology behind tight skin coloured cloth that some music stars used to cover exposed areas such as midriffs during their dances.

Most of the interesting content on TVM surfaced during Roadha mas. During this month of fasting most people stayed up late into the night so as to have a final meal before the day ahead. This provided a great excuse to create several late night programs; many of which were interactive game shows where contestants could call in to participate. Also of note is how the broadcast of Baibalaa tournaments during this time may have indirectly played a part in the creation of the many gangs which call Male’ their home. Most of these gangs started off as “sports clubs” and to this day maintain that façade of legitimacy in their operations. Framing it as a politician funding a sports clubs activities just sounds so much better than the mafia paying off hired thugs.

The Maldivian populace, desperate for entertainment, were forced to adapt. When I was growing up piracy was the norm. If the state, with all its vast revenues from tourism, cannot afford to buy original tapes to show on their channel; then what hope does the average citizen have of obtaining such luxuries?

One of the options was the local pirate tape rental. They’d have a vast library of murky copies that you could rent for 10 ruffiya a week. Sometimes my mother would rent something as a treat for my sister and myself; and we’d rewind and watch that tape until we’d memorised all of it. Sometimes multiple times a day. You could say this is common practice worldwide for kids that grew up with VCRs before the internet; but these weren’t clear copies. These were copies, much like the ones shown on TVM, with such terrible video quality and reverberating audio that you could barely decipher what was going on in some scenes. We were just that starved for entertainment.

One of the other options was to invest in a satellite dish. Some of the incredibly rich even had paid subscriptions. Most people, however, used decoders which let you access almost all of the paid channels for free. My uncle had such a set up, so we ran a cable all the way from his house to our TV. We couldn’t change the channel and were forced to watch whatever his decoder had been set to, but it was still much better than only having access to TVM. When my uncle got rid of his satellite, we put a cable in from my aunts; and when it was time for Dragon Ball Z, my sister and I would call them up to see if they could maybe change the channel to Cartoon Network for an hour. We must have been quite annoying.

In the 2000s some cable operators did begin service; but their catalogue was severely limited and overpriced. The pirate satellites still remained the better option. Some enterprising individuals even figured out that some Indian subscription services worked all the way down south in the Maldives; leading to rooftops being dotted with that particular type of dish for quite a while until the service providers became wary and began cancelling accounts.

These foreign cable stations provided a window to a greater world that Maldivians simply did not have access to in the past. They also served a strange form of self-validation in our own existence. I remember people proclaiming with astonished voices that “even the BBC” was reporting on events such as the historic protests of 2004. To finally see tyrants like Maumoon grilled by foreign journalists during the 2008 elections was nothing short of a revelation. The questions asked in the Al Jazeera video below, for example, are questions that very few local journalists would have even dared to ask back in those days. Mohamed Nasheed did not get imprisoned for his work with Sangu by accident.

101 East speaks to Asia's longest serving leader Maumoon Abdul Gayoom and opposition candidate Mohamed Nasheed at the Maldives' first free elections. In this edition of 101 East, we look at this turning point of democracy in Maldivian history and ask both presidential candidates why Maldivians should vote for them. - Al Jazeera English

Despite all these avenues for consuming pirated foreign content, the amount of local content was still shockingly low. With the advent of the internet, self-publishing, and more affordable technologies, this has changed quite a bit. Anyone can now create a show and post it onto places YouTube for the whole world to see. And there are now several local TV stations that compete with TVM as well.

Yet Maldivian media remains in its infancy, still struggling to find an identity from the years of that information blackout. In a way we are now undergoing our first renaissance of the creative arts. I am sure the Maumoon regime would like to take credit for this, but I think it has more to do with the world advancing as a whole rather than any conscious effort by them to improve the situation.

During Mohamed Nasheed rule, perhaps to distance his fledgling democracy from the days of dictatorship, TVM was renamed to MNBC One. But not for long. The station was so close to the hearts of the regime and its supporters that it was one of the first government buildings stormed and taken over by mutinying police during the coup of 2012; after which it was promptly renamed back to TVM. Some people say this is because the “secret” meaning of MNBC was not “Maldives National Broadcasting Corporation” but “Mohamed Nasheed Broadcasting Corporation”.

I think it was because TVM was like a mother to many regime loyalists. TVM back then was our way of communicating with our god, Maumoon. The days he gave Friday sermons were the days that the mosque was most packed. And of course these sermons were broadcast live on TVM for everyone at home, mostly women and children preparing lunch for the pious men who are busy praying, could soak it in as well. They find comfort in the nostalgia of those “peaceful” days of ignorance. In the endless songs of nationalism, penned by none other than god himself. Even now many people moan about the loss of the “peaceful” Maldivian community to the chaos of “politics”. Back then we never heard about the people that were abused and tortured in Maumoon’s prisons, so many people took this lack of information to mean that everything was OK. Back then many of the rural islands were, and still are, poverty stricken and lacking in basic development; which many people from the capital interpreted as “the simple life” that we are so missing out on today. Many of these people have never had to live “the simple life” and are simply tourists who exotify the rural islands they visit during their holidays. Even well into the 2000s, while those in the capital complained about slow internet, many in the islands still lacked proper sewage systems and electrical plants.

Yet still many people long for the days that we spent lost within that TVM haze. The drone of the no signal tone and the coloured bars that went along with it while I waited for programming to start are still burned into my mind; and much of this programming the Maldives has yet to overcome.​

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satire, Game Dev, Video Games Hani Amir satire, Game Dev, Video Games Hani Amir

Third World Democracy Simulator v0.13

A satirical cookie clicker type game that I am working on using Orteil's Idle Game Maker. So far you can bribe all your way upto your very own political party. 500,000 votes gets the "winning achievement". Future plans include adding resorts and various shady politicians. Feedback, thoughts and ideas much appreciated! 

You can play the game here:  http://orteil.dashnet.org/experiments/idlegamemaker/?game=7tW6EsUC
 

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Maldives, Non-fiction, Self Reflection Hani Amir Maldives, Non-fiction, Self Reflection Hani Amir

Fear of the Dark

               All the while the rushing would intensify as if heading towards some grim crescendo. As this feeling grew and I drowned in feelings of utter helplessness, so did a growing panic that something... bad.... was about to happen. This jinni, this being, was going to take my life - or worse - take my sanity and run screaming with it all the way to hell.

A draft of Chapter 01 of "Apostates in Paradise"

               “He’s a Christian…” he whispered gesturing towards a boy several rows of desks in front of us.

                “What do you mean he’s a Christian?” I asked.

                “Well, I went swimming the other day right, and I saw he was wearing a pendant on his necklace”

                “A pendant…?”

                “Yeah, it was shaped like a cross. He said it was just a knife, but I’m sure it was meant to be a cross. Only those Christian crosses look like that”

                “Huh…”

               The bell for interval rang and the conversation ended. I was 11.

               A year later two planes flew into the World Trade Centre complex, killing 2852 people.

               There were kids in class celebrating, 12 year olds joyously celebrating the death of the “infidel Americans” and the tyrant “West”.  All of them were avid consumers of media produced by these “infidels”; Hollywood & Bollywood movies, South Park, The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Tom & Jerry, Friends, Michael Jackson, Nirvana, Megadeth, Metallica, Slip Knot, The Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Eminem, terrible pop music like Aqua, video games, the World Wrestling Federation, Harry Potter, The Famous Five, Goosebumps, all manner of cartoons and everything else imaginable. Most media back then was either pirated or from satellite TV; with healthy doses of government propaganda being provided by the only TV channel, TVM or Television Maldives.

               “They deserved it” they said. “They had it coming, kafir scum”. I asked them why, I remember getting angry and saying that they were people too but mostly I remember feeling confused, lost and sorrowful. I was quite naïve about hatred back then.

***

               I'm peddling a bicycle through a winding unpaved road. The complete darkness alternated with pools of focused light created by the street lamps. The tires make a soft sashaying sound against the coral rich sand as I make my way back towards the bungalow. Each time I dipped into the darkness I felt a dread grow deep within me, which was replaced my relief the moment I escaped those inky clutches and rode back under the lights. All the while under my breath I would recite the shahaadhai'. And so it went, in a most bipolar fashion until I made it back to the safe embrace of fluorescent lights, television and familiar company.

               All of these things seemed to repel the illusive jinni - whose mysterious evils were the source of my fears. I was never truly afraid of the dark as a child until I was informed about their existence. What was just an absence of light quickly became a source of paranoid hallucinations and imaginations gone wild.

               Looking back on it, I cannot quite place my finger on exactly why I was afraid of them. Was it because I feared I would be possessed? Was it because of the stories of evil jinni who hated Allah and fought for Shaithan? I am not quite sure.

               But what I do remember is I did not used to be afraid of the dark until I learned that within the darkness was where the beings of smokeless fire dwelled. I do not remember the exact moment. It was some friend of the family or perhaps some work associate of my parents. We were heading towards the beach, or perhaps we were coming back, but out of nowhere was the warning – “don't go in the dark, jinni live there!”

               At first I laughed it off. I did not believe they existed at that point. My parents were not the type to talk about such things just to scare their children. If they didn’t want me to do something, they just told me not to do it. For example they were not the kind of people to teach their kids to be afraid of the ocean, but they would still let us know to be careful in case there were sharks about. If there was some danger they told me about the danger. So I asked my mother and to my surprise she confirmed their existence with a grave face.

               These fears manifested themselves through several nightmares which I have had. I do not often have nightmares, most of the terror I experience in the nocturnal realm transforms to excitement, to some adventure, so I remember these blood chilling experiences well.

               They all involved sleep paralysis, and the utterly terrifying sensation of being awake but being completely helpless to move on your own accord. I would hear a great rushing noise, almost as if I was within a roaring typhoon. A great whirling grey energy, flecked with black and silver streaks, would surround me and manifest itself near my head at the foot of the bed. I would see all this through my peripheral vision as I strained to move my head; which like the rest of my body felt bolted onto the bed by invisible steel girders that felt as if they had as much weight as celestial objects. There are few things in life as terrifying as your own body disobeying your orders.  

               All the while the rushing would intensify as if heading towards some grim crescendo. As this feeling grew and I drowned in feelings of utter helplessness, so did a growing panic that something... bad.... was about to happen. This jinni, this being, was going to take my life - or worse - take my sanity and run screaming with it all the way to hell.

               As soon as it began, it would stop. I would spring up, bathed in cold sweat and panting as if I had just swam a great distance. I would look wildly around the room to see were my tormentor had concealed themselves.

               Over and over again I would say the shahaada. Laa-ilaaha-illallah, Muhammadhu-rasoolullah, Laa-ilaaha-illallah, Muhammadhu-rasoolullah, Laa-ilaaha-illallah, Muhammadhu-rasoolullah. Through gritted teeth I would recite those verses over and over again until I managed to calm myself down.

               I never doubted that it was jinni who were responsible. Who else could it be? Jinni were always blamed for such things. All the monsters and beings of Maldivian folklore had been transformed into a tale involving some kind of jinni. They were why we stayed away from certain kinds of trees when it was dark. They were why we stayed away from the dark - period. Surely only extremely dangerous creatures would be worthy of such avoidance?

               And so the night light stayed on.

***

               Fast forward to grade 9 of high school in 2004 and the “war on terror” was on in full swing.  All the rage in computing class was watching footage from the war and sharing pornography.

                “This is the best one yet”, said some classmates who were huddled around a computer. I got up and walked over to have a look.

               The grainy, pixelated footage showed someone who appeared to be from the US army, kneeling in a dimly lit room, facing the camera with eyes covered and hands bound. Behind him is the black flag of the Mujahedeen.  A man walks in, carrying a rusty blade and wearing a balaclava, who proceeds to rough his prisoner up while yelling and gesturing at the camera.

               “Here we go…” one of my classmates said.

               As if on cue the masked man suddenly grabs his captive from behind and begins to saw and hack away at his neck. Blood bursts out covering himself, the floor and his executioner’s hands. He kicks his legs and flays about hopelessly, all while blood gushes and spurts out of his mouth as he desperately tries to breathe.

               The soldier’s agony is drawn out for what seemed like an hour while the man, whose eagerness was only surpassed by his clumsiness with a knife, continued to gleefully cut away at the mutilated flesh until his head was finally severed. He grips it by the scalp and triumphantly shows it to the camera, blood still oozing from its ragged base.

               It was the most horrifying act of violence I have ever seen. My mind was spinning, I felt nauseous. The soldier’s dead eyes kept flickering in my consciousness like a strobe. I saw some friends have the same reaction; others were already joking about it and making faces.

               “They deserve that shit, those fucking Americans” one of them sneered.

               “Damn infidels and Jews” said another.

               I died a little that day. Some part of me is now gone and lost forever. I used to be squeamish but after that, the goriest horror movies do little to affect me. How could the imaginary ever be as terrifying?

               Gone too was my fear of the dark. What protection could a nightlight offer from the waking horror of a world filled with the realities of man?

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Maldives, UPR Report Consideration 2015 - Statement by Dr. Ali Naseer Mohamed

"Let me now turn to the recommendations we received from Member States. As we have stated at the UPR Working Group, for over eight hundred years, Maldivians have embraced and maintained our Islamic values. Islam forms the basis of our Constitution, and all our laws. Any efforts to introduce practices contrary to the values of Islam, will not be entertained by the people of Maldives. Of the sixty recommendations the Government has rejected, and thus taken note of, are mostly those that contradict with the Islamic faith and our Constitution. The people of Maldives, through a democratic process, have rejected freedom of religion, LGBT, and non-traditional forms of family. However, as previously stated, non-Maldivians are allowed to practicetheir own faith in private. We have also provided explanations on the recommendations in the Addendum submitted to the Council." - Dr. Ali Nazeer

What democratic process? 

““Let me now turn to the recommendations we received from Member States. As we have stated at the UPR Working Group, for over eight hundred years, Maldivians have embraced and maintained our Islamic values. Islam forms the basis of our Constitution, and all our laws. Any efforts to introduce practices contrary to the values of Islam, will not be entertained by the people of Maldives. Of the sixty recommendations the Government has rejected, and thus taken note of, are mostly those that contradict with the Islamic faith and our Constitution. The people of Maldives, through a democratic process, have rejected freedom of religion, LGBT, and non-traditional forms of family. However, as previously stated, non-Maldivians are allowed to practicetheir own faith in private. We have also provided explanations on the recommendations in the Addendum submitted to the Council.””
— Dr. Ali Nazeer Mohamed

What democratic process?

The Maldives refuses to allow basic human rights by using the vague justification of religion. The UN is the greatest circle jerk in the history of humanity. They do not care about your rights as a citizen of this planet, they instead care about the rights of nations. Maldivian minorities will just have to suffer in silence. What other option do we have when the powers that be have failed us? And what greater power could there be on this planet than the United Nations? Does the UN not care at all about Maldivian minorities? Are they simply a myth to them? 

The UN website streaming the video didn't even have a link to the transcript, or even closed captioning features. Says a lot really. 

Maldivians are encouraged to dream big, but not so big that might dream of something like the freedom to believe in what you wish.  Through what "democratic process" (as Dr. Ali Nazeer claims) have we decided all this? Just exactly what "humans rights" education are we talking about here where minorities such as apostates and LGBT are not even given the right to exist?

One thing is clear. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights is utterly meaningless. Why does the document even exist in the first place if autocratic regimes like the Maldives can do with it as they please?  What actual protection does it afford the humans of this planet?

The Full statement: 

 Thank you, Mr.President.
 
Excellencies, Ladies, and Gentlemen: Good afternoon.
 
It is a pleasure for me to be back at this esteemed Council, and part of this important meeting to consider the outcome of the Universal Periodic Review of the Maldives, and adopt the Report of the Working Group.
 
In July this year, the Maldives celebrated its fiftieth anniversary of independence, and three days ago, we celebrated fifty years of membership at the United Nations. These two landmark anniversaries reaffirm our collective will to further continue the journey we began in 1965. It is a journey we embarked on to reform, and to strengthen our system of governance, our institutions, and to improve the livelihood of the peoples.
 
The Universal Periodic Review process has become a key navigational instrument in our drive for national progress. The Maldives UPR held on 6 May 2015gained nation-wide interest in the Maldives. The Session received wide coverage on national and private news channels, and lively discussions from schools to social media. The engagement and the discussion both positive and critical, has renewed and strengthened the commitment of the Government to this process and its core guiding principles: universality, inclusivity, and transparency. It has reaffirmed our belief in the process’s potential to contribute to the positive and sustainable development of the country.
Mr. President
At the Maldives UPR, we received two hundred and fifty eight recommendations from one hundred and two States. After a careful consideration, the Government of Maldives has accepted one hundred and ninety eight recommendations, and rejected sixty. For a small nation with very limited resources, we hope you appreciate how ambitious we are. But we have never shied away from a challenge: as we said in our closing remarks to this Council on 8May 2015,for us, “small” is neither insignificant not unimportant; . . . small means striving to achieve higher, and dreaming big”.
Mr President
I will now highlight some of the developments on human rights that have taken place in the past four months. The Health Services Bill, the Sports Bill, National Integrity Commission Bill, and the Disaster Management Bill have been ratified.
The New Penal Code has come into effect on 16 July 2015, after a comprehensive roll-out and sensitisation programme was conducted to familiarise the relevant stakeholders with the sweeping changes. Many amendments to legislations have also been ratified, in order to comply with the Constitution of 2008 and the new penal code. These legislative reforms have contributed to the strengthening of the legislative framework around a holistic approach to the promotion and protection of human rights in the Maldives.
On the socio-economic front, the Government has committed to provide 24-hour electricity to all inhabited islands before 2018, a right enshrined in our Constitution. We have also introduced the concept of “Smart city” to the Maldives, and begun efforts to develop a youth city, to cater to the nearly fifty percent of the population that are below the age of twenty-five. In August 2015, the Government has also introduced Islamic Financing loan programme ‘faseyha madhadhu’,which would benefit the small and medium enterprises.
On 17 August2015, the President, on the approval of the Parliament, appointed three new members to the Human Rights Commission of the Maldives to replace the members whose terms completed. The process of appointment was publicly announcedand transparently conducted. Members have also been appointed to the Public Service Media Governing Board, further enhancing the freedom of expression guaranteed by the Constitution.
Mr President
 
Let me now turn to the recommendations we received from Member States. As we have stated at the UPR Working Group, for over eight hundred years, Maldivians have embraced and maintained our Islamic values. Islam forms the basis of our Constitution, and all our laws. Any efforts to introduce practices contrary to the values of Islam, will not be entertained by the people of Maldives. Of the sixty recommendations the Government has rejected, and thus taken note of, are mostly those that contradict with the Islamic faith and our Constitution. The people of Maldives, through a democratic process, have rejected freedom of religion, LGBT, and non-traditional forms of family. However, as previously stated, non-Maldivians are allowed to practicetheir own faith in private. We have also provided explanations on the recommendations in the Addendum submitted to the Council.
The Government has developed a comprehensive strategy for implementing the one hundred and ninety eight recommendations we have accepted. Under the guidance of President Abdulla Yameen Abdul Gayoom, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs will continue to be the principal agency coordinating the implementation of the recommendations. And we have already started the consultations. Following informal meetings, the reconstituted Standing Committee of the UPR has held its first formal meeting on 20 August 2015. The new Standing Committee has 8members from the Government, and 4members from civil society organisations. We have taken a results-based approach in implementing the recommendations by identifying measurable and verifiable benchmarks.
President Yameen’s Government believes that human rights are not only about international instruments or pieces of law. Human rights is as much about cultivating respect, nurturing belief, and in making human rights a way of life. To promote these values, the Government will continue its efforts to provide human rights education.
Mr President,
 
For a Small Island Developing State, with numerous challenges such as lack of expertise, capacity, technical and financial limitations, we remain constrained in our efforts to achieve the legislative reforms needed, at the pace we want.
New legislations such as the Gender Equality Bill will be presented to the next Parliament session, and there are many others in the pipeline. The adverse impacts of climate change is, and will undoubtedly pose new challenges to the realisation of the human rights of our small population, scattered over a large expanse of the ocean. Similar to many other countries, our societies have not been immune to the waves of drug abuse and radical extremism spreading across the globe.
We have been very forthcoming about our limitations. We have exercised maximum transparency in highlighting the challenges we encounter. We have never claimed we are perfect. And indeed, no country can legitimately claim to have a perfect record.
Despite the challenges, the progress that the Maldives has achieved only within a span of ten years, is by any measure, impressive. It is therefore highly unfortunate that there are several forces, both outside and within, trying to reap the benefits of our political vulnerability. It is also unfortunate that the Maldives, our governance system that is only a decade old, is often judged by the same yardstick used for countries that took centuries to establish. And while the attention is appreciated, conclusive evidence shows that change is only sustainable if locally owned, locally driven, and locally shaped. Institutions need to have the space and time to grow organically according to the specific needs of the people of the country.
Having said that, we always come to this Council with an open mind, and an attentive ear. We have much to learn from the experiences of other States, and well meaning, well intended advise is well received. We count on the support of our partners to help us reach our goals, and especially in implementing the recommendations received at this Council. We would like to hear from your experiences, on how best we can tackle some of the challenges we face. As my Foreign Minister Dunya Maumoon stated at the UPR Working Group in May, “we are here with a sincere intent to listen, to engage”, to share our experiences, to be guided by yours.
 
With this in mind, I would like to request the President to open the floor, and I look forward to a fruitful discussion.
Thank you MrPresident.

Sources: 
http://webtv.un.org/search/maldives-upr-report-consideration-24th-meeting-30th-regular-session-human-rights-council/4506181291001?term=maldives#full-text

https://extranet.ohchr.org/sites/hrc/HRCSessions/RegularSessions/30thSession/OralStatements/MALDIVES%20UPR%20-%20Opening%20Statement%20FINAL.pdf

Mirror of the PDF

A password for UN extranet access can be obtained without much hassle from: 
http://www.ohchr.org/EN/HRBodies/HRC/Pages/HRCRegistration.aspx

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A POLICY OF DESTRUCTION - From 'The Maldive Islanders' by Xavier Romero-Frias

This is the final chapter of Xavier Romero-Frias' "The Maldive Islanders".   With the direction the Maldives appears to be heading in, it is perhaps even more relevant now than when it was first written. If you wanted to know why so little is done to preserve Maldivian culture and heritage, this is why. 

This is the final chapter of Xavier Romero-Frias' "The Maldive Islanders".   With the direction the Maldives appears to be heading in, it is perhaps even more relevant now than when it was first written. If you wanted to know why so little is done to preserve Maldivian culture and heritage, this is why. 

A POLICY OF DESTRUCTION

The relentless effort to promote Arabic cultural values within the Maldive island society is allegedly made with very good intentions. Its supporters claim to hold the monopoly of moral and spiritual values, and steadfastly affirm that their aim is to create a more virtuous society. However, local resistance against the arbitrary imposition of an alien desert culture on this equatorial oceanic nation has never been officially defined or at least assessed and has rather been stubbornly ignored. Hence, as the saying goes “the road to hell is paved with good intentions” and, humans the world over being who they are, as soon as a new law to promote virtue is enforced, a new trick to circumvent that very law pops up. 

The result is that the country has become a virtual police state, but certainly the society is not becoming any more virtuous. Lacking perspective of their cultural identity, average island people are simply helpless to fight back the cultural forgery imposed on them. The state religion has been Islam for the past eight centuries and, in the eyes of the islanders, Islam is synonymous with a formidable machine of power and authority which cannot be contested. Thus, Maldivians have to put up with the role of remaining passive onlookers when freshly arrived Arabic teachers or ‘holy men’ harshly criticize their own island traditions with impunity. 

It is a secretly acknowledged fact, though, that within the island population there are many who feel that they are traveling on a boat which is going in the opposite course they wish to go, but they feel helpless to do anything about it. This conflict is, if anything, compounded by the intense propagation of hard-line Islamic ideologies, including the construction of mosques and Arabic religious schools137 throughout the country since 1978. 

The Arab religious schools, fruit of the petrodollar wealth, were first opened in the capital Male' in 1983 and they set a pattern of cultural and political indoctrination for schools all across the Maldive Islands.138 Boys or girls attending those schools have problems having pride in their own culture because they have been pitched against the basic Maldive cultural values ever since their first classes. One unavoidable side-effect of Islamic education is that students end up admiring the Arab culture and despising their own traditions. Children who are unaware of causing any harm are made willing accomplices in the dismantlement of their own cultural heritage. 

With the media in the hands of an Islamizing government and the spread of Arabic madrasahs throughout the country, the pace and depth of Arab influence is growing fast. During the 1970’s, except for a few modern schools in MaleØ, most Divehi children were taught Quraìnic reading in the small traditional ‘maktabs.’ However, this situation changed in the 1980’s, when two heavily funded Arabic schools ‘Mawhad Dirasì at-ul-Islamiyya’ and ‘Madrasat-ul-Arabiyya-al-Islamiyya’ opened in MaleØ. These schools, teaching undiluted Islam, were instrumental in introducing the Arab veil among girls and in the crystallization of Arabic mores within the Maldive society.

Even the phonetic sounds of the Divehi language are changing. Local letters are abandoned and disappear. The indigenous sound ‘p’ has been replaced by the Arabic letter ‘f’ during the last couple of centuries; and the autochthonous retroflex ‘nö’ (nöaviyani) has been slowly vanishing to the point of having been deleted from the local written alphabet by Muhammad AmÄín in mid-20th century.  

In contrast to this carelessness towards their own phonetics, young Maldivian students are very particular in their efforts to reproduce with fidelity Arabic phonetic sounds,139 alien to their own language, in order to win Quraìn-reading contests promoted by their government. This trend is to blame for the growing tendency towards the abandonment of retroflex sounds not existing in Arab phonetics. Those retroflex sounds ‘lø’ (Löaviyani), ‘dö’ (Döaviyani) and ‘tø’ (Taö viyani) and ‘nö’ (Nöaviyani) made by flapping the tongue against the palate are a characteristic feature of the Indic languages. However, they were the bane of some highly fastidious, Arabophillic local learned men who sought to replace the local Divehi Akuru with the Arabic script in the past. 

After many unsuccessful attempts, the ‘Taìna’ alphabet now in use was devised as a compromise. This three-century-old although some present-day documents propagated by the government claim that it is older in order to fit it into their particular vision of history140 artificial alphabet is based mostly on the Arabic numerals and diacritical signs and, more importantly, is written from right to left like Arabic. The abandonment of the Divehi Akuru141 and the introduction of the Taìna form of writing was a decisive step towards a greater Arabization of Divehi culture. The new form of writing could easily accommodate words and even whole sentences in Arabic within texts in the local language. Therefore, in practice, the Taìna alphabet became a wedge for the further introduction of a foreign Semitic tongue into the written form of Divehi. 

During the past five or six centuries, Maldive identity has steadily lost its color and vitality. Local dances, songs, festivals and ceremonies that were deemed un-Islamic have been weeded out and repressed with almost sadistic ruthlessness. Hence, most autochthonous ancestral cultural expressions have degenerated or have disappeared. Kite-flying and mutual water-splashing (fenô kuliø ), are among the popular festivals that were forbidden by the Maldive government during the latter half of the twentieth century . 

Since the early 1980’s, during a government drive to promote Islam in the Atolls called ‘DÄínuge Heìlunterikanô’, Islamic preachers sailed from island to island, to scold the islanders with fiery speeches. Acting with the same zeal characteristic of the former Sayyids, these enforcers of religious ideology saw sin and depravation in the normal sexual dimorphism of dress and behavior and in the open expression of youthful joy by means of dances and songs, which are a vital part of any healthy society.

Devoid of popular entertainment, except for modern sports, island atmosphere has become extremely dull.142 Despite the introduction of consumerism and the relative economic buoyancy of the last two decades of the 20th century, things have not changed very much since C. Maloney reported in the mid-1970’s that:  

This particular island appeared (...) as an enervating place, with almost no games, no music or scheduled events, except prayers, and few surprises (...). Only the changing of seasons, (the Muslim month of) Ramzaìn and the two Iïd (Muslim festivals) broke the passage of time. The KatÄíbu (government official) ruled in a tyrannical way (...). There is no crack in the shell of orthodoxy, at least in appearance. The majority of citizens of the Maldives pass their time on such islands as this, (...) scarcely touched at all by the civilisational vibrancy of the outer world.143

Since 1979 Arab preachers have been periodically invited to the Maldive Islands by the government and given VIP treatment. Conferences where those ‘holy men’ are the star figures are organized in the evenings during their stay. Government officials and schoolchildren from the capital are forced to go to listen to their religious speeches. These aggressive sermons in Arabic are not only broadcast live in the national radio, but their recordings are routinely aired during the following months. 

However, an Egyptian friend of mine who knew well that type of person, Mahmoud Salama, told me that no one in Egypt would pay so much respect to those cheap preachers. According to him, they were totally unimaginative types, from a mediocre background who were basking in the exaggerated attention they were receiving. “These are backward characters. What good can the Maldivians learn from them?” another Egyptian friend, AmÄín ‘Pako’, one day commented. And yet, during the last twenty years, these Egyptian preachers have been let loose in the Maldives to indoctrinate the local people under special orders from the President’s office. 

These brash preachers seize with glee their unearned high status in the Islands. Often they use to grow quite passionate and eloquent in their speeches about the torments of hell, probably provoked by the un-Islamic appearance of the crowds who are gathered in to listen to them. For the fact is that Maldives got most of its Islamic facade mosques with minarets, Moorish arches and veiled women only from the year 1981 onwards, when the petrodollars began pouring abundantly into the country. And there are many locals who have not adopted the Arab look. 

Initially these Egyptian propagandists were not liked by Maldivians at all. They appeared rude and gross to them, terribly lacking in manners. The calm, monotonous voice of the Divehi translator contrasted sharply with the impassionate, hysterical screams and violent gesticulation of the Arab religious preacher. To make them more palatable, in later years, the indoctrinators were coached by government officials regarding how to behave in front of the Maldive public and they learned how to talk in a more culturally sensitive cool and regular tone. And yet, the crude content of their sermons remained the same. 144  

Throughout Divehi history, Arabs were still viewed as foreigners by the average Maldivian. However, the last quarter of the twentieth century has seen a new phenomenon appear in the Island society’s horizon: The ‘Arab wannabe.’ These are Maldivians who leave the islands in their childhood and are sent to Arab countries or to Pakistan to receive Islamic training. Eventually, when they return to their country as adults, they behave exactly like the Arab Sayyids of old. These uprooted Arab impersonators put much effort into weeding out the last remnants of true Maldive national identity. Since the end of the 1970’s, many very high government posts in the Maldives are held by such ‘Arab wannabes’ and their number is increasing. 

In the outer Atolls, the average attitude of these young, but religious-wise highly trained people is, at best, arrogant and insensitive. They are usually contemptuous towards the ‘aløuverinô’, or old religious males of the island, whose time-tested combination of folkwisdom and religion, is too unislamic for their taste. At the same time, their position as young persons and religious learned men simultaneously is still highly incongruous. Within the ancestral island society, there was a role for old religious men, but none for inexperienced youngsters happening to be well-versed in Arabic and religion. 

Traditionally, one was supposed to acquire knowledge along with wisdom with age. Hence, young aløuverinô, or young learned men, simply didn’t exist. The result is that these brazen young ‘Arab wannabes’, full of Islamic zeal, put much effort into discrediting their elders, slandering them for not being orthodox enough. In this manner they have led people not to pay attention to the old local aløuverinô and have ended up destroying the traditional hierarchical system, in which old people had to be respected. This is paving the way for a break-up of the moral fabric of Divehi society. 

It is a well-known fact that presently in Maldives, there is a secret hostility to excessive arabization, but it is leading nowhere. This ‘resistance’, if it even may be called so, is not only unorganized, but its goals are not defined and it has no visible leadership.145 Moreover, there seems to be nowhere else to go in the other direction, for the ancestral Divehi culture is effectively lost. 

  • 137 Decades before the murderous spree led by religious hard-liners in Algeria, and long before the opening of those schools in the Maldives, Algerian writers like Rachid Mimouni had already questioned the wisdom of mass-religious indoctrination. “What do they want? A country of muezzins? Or a country of pious unemployed people (chomeurs)?” 
  • 138 Paraphrasing Vivekananda, in those schools the first thing a Maldivian child is taught is that his father is a fool because he can’t understand the Quraìn as he doesn’t know Arabic, the second that his grandfather was a lunatic because he held on to many folk beliefs that were unislamic, the third that his mother is shameless because she doesn’t cover her hair, the fourth that his grandmother was a whore because her form of dress revealed too much of her body, the fifth that all the old Maldivian books and stories are lies, and the sixth that Divehi courtesy is rude because Maldive Islanders don’t go around saying all the time ‘Assalaìm alaykum’ as polite Arabs do (the traditional Divehi way being to ask: “Where are you going?”), etc. Vivekananda, a well-known Indian reformist, denounced British education in the schools of the Raj for giving Indians a false perspective of their own culture.
  • 139 Letters: thaì, hâaì, khaì, dhaìl, Ïaìd, Íadì , Ìaì, Ña,ì Âyn, gôayn`and qaìf. These are foreign Semitic sounds that don’t come naturally to the Divehi people and are, thus, very difficult to pronounce for them. Even so, since they are positive that Arabic is the language of heaven, much effort is invested among Maldivians since childhood in order to achieve the correct pronunciation. 
  • 140 The claim that the Taìna script was devised in the 16th century is, however, not supported by historical documents. The oldest writing specimens in that alphabet, interspersed with Arabic, are from the 18th century. These are the Iïdu Miskit Dorosöi inscriptions, dated AH 1170 (AD 1757). 
  • 141 The traditional Maldivian writing whose most ancient manuscripts (in the form called ‘Eveìla’ by H.C.P. Bell) go as far back as the 7th century AD. The last manuscripts written in Divehi Akuru are from mid-19th century. 
  • 142 According to most islanders, the only excitement is to be found in secret illicit relationships.
  • 143 C. Maloney, ‘People of the Maldive Islands.’
  •  144 For example, this is how Maldivian women were coaxed to cover their hair: “Every single hair of a woman not covered by the veil will become a poisonous snake in hell.” From a speech by an Arab guest preacher in Divehi Raìjjege Adöu (Radio Maldives) translated from the Arabic into Divehi and broadcast during the month of Ramzanì in 1990.
  • 145 Commenting on the power of the government and the power of Islam in turn-of-the-millennium Algeria, Mohammed Arkoun, director of the Institute of Arab-Islamic Studies at Paris-III University, writes: The nationalist vision insists on the continuity in time of the Arab-Islamic culture and, consequently, of the state. Thus, the social spirit dominating today is directly connected with the official thesis that refuses to make the indispensable room to the scientific analysis of facts and problems. Intellectuals who, like Mustafa Lacheraf, invest their efforts into the separation between the functions of the official ideology, which pretends to mobilize national construction, and the critical knowledge of the ingredients that have fashioned real Algerian society, are extremely rare. M. Arkoun, ‘Une SpiritualiteØ qui deØpasse la Religion d’EÚtat’ (GEO n 114).
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Photography, Experiments, Maldives Hani Amir Photography, Experiments, Maldives Hani Amir

11 images from my photographic portfolio as interpreted by Google's Deep Dream #dreamdeeply #deepdream

I haven't gotten around to setting it up on my system yet, so I uploaded some of my portfolio to dreamdeeply.com (one of the  many third party virtual servers hosting the program) to see how my images would be interpreted by Google's Deep Dream. I've only run 11 through as not to spam them too much. Predictably it's seeing dogs everywhere. It's interesting how some of the scenes become almost unrecognizable. Except for the Tasmanian landscape, all of the photographs were taken in the Maldives. Science has never been so kitsch! 

As per request, these are the original images: 

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