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queenie-blackthorn · 6 months
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tips for writing arab characters
writer here!! im a middle eastern writer whos noticed that theres a VERY significant lack of info on how to write arabs, so im here to help !! (however, keep in mind that im specifically gulf arab and may not be able to provide as much info on levant arabs or north african arabs. if there are any on here, feel free to reblog w more info !! )
dont get arabs mixed up w muslims. yes, a large portion of the arab population are muslim, but youd be surprised at the number of non-muslim arabs that exist. if you wanna write abt a muslim character, a post i made that might help is here 
list of arab countries, with the adjective:
algeria — algerian
bahrain — bahraini 
the comoros islands — comorans
djibouti — djiboutian
egypt — egyptian
iraq — iraqi
jordan — jordanian
kuwait — kuwaiti
lebanon — lebanese
libya — libyan
morocco — moroccan
mauritania — mauritanian
oman — omani
palestine — palestinian
qatar — qatari
kingdom of saudi arabia (ksa) — saudi
somalia — somali
sudan  — sudanese
syria — syrian
tunisia — tunisian
united arab emirates (uae) — emirati
yemen — yemeni
dialects/language:
dialects greatly differ—the egyptian dialect is the most common, followed closely by the levantine dialect
classic arabic is called fusha (fuss-ha), used in things like official documents, media, education. every arab knows it but its not used in day to day language except in media (all dialects basically come from fusha, but with slight changes)
'p' and 'g' (as in 'gurgle' or 'goal') dont exist in the arabic alphabet, theyre replaced with 'b' and 'j' 
depending on where theyre from, they may also learn a third language besides arabic and english (e.g. moroccans know french, a berber arab may know berber)
appearance:
arabs look different based on where theyre from. if theyre from the arabian peninsula, they have thick curly dark hair, tanned skin, and dark eyes. levant arabs are lighter skinned, and green/blue eyes are more common with them
adding on to previous point, arabs have a variety of skin tones, even if theyre siblings. using a real example, me and my older brother respectively look white passing and afro hispanic
dark irises are considered better looking than lighter colored eyes. eyes are usually thick-lashed, with big round slightly upturned eyes 
big noses are common, along with full lips (and hereditary dark circles for those with more tanned skin)
high cheekbones and well structured faces are also prevalent
culture:
varies depending on location
influenced by indian culture, IS NOT INTERCHANGEABLE WITH INDIAN CULTURE. that was aladdins mistake
poetry is so common, especially with romantic themes
songs also have romantic themes
youd be surprised at how romantic arabs are
dances vary extremely, from dabke (palestinean dance done in groups, consisting largely of leg/foot movements) to yola (emirati dance with battle origins, done using canes or fake guns) i recommend watching videos (tiktok has a lot of videos esp of dabke)
women also dance but you wont find a lot of videos of it bc its inappropriate
etiquette:
things such as giving someone your back, or facing the bottom of your feet towards someone are considered rude 
pda is also taboo (even with straight couples or even sometimes married couples)
cheek kisses are a common way of greeting, but not between genders
in some gulf countries, men greet each other with a nose kiss (not in an intimate way) just stubbing their noses against each other
genders do not mix at all. schools tend to divide girls and boys into two sections starting at a certain age (around age 10/11), and mosques are split into the mens side (usually larger than womens bc men use the mosque more)
having an extramarital relationship is very very taboo (even w hetero relationships) but it still happens. a lot. 
family dynamics (note that this is obviously a spectrum. this is the general dynamic, but obv it ranges from family to family):
NOT ALL OF US HAVE ABUSIVE PARENTS. sure theyll spank you if you skip school, but thats not necessarily abusive. its more strict, and youd be surprised at the amount of freedom some parents give their kids
yes, arranged marriages do happen. no, they arent necessarily forced, it just means that your parents had a hand in deciding who youll marry. yes, marrying cousins is a thing, but its much less prevalent now (also, ew)
fathers care. a lot. they dont show it, but they do. they also tend to joke around a lot
mothers tend to be the rule enforcers, and by far our moms are our best friends. we tell them EVERYTHING i swear 
aunties gossip a lot
uncles are a safety hazard
its not uncommon to have a large number of cousins (mainly bc arabs tend to have a lot of kids)
the average number of children 3 per woman, but from personal experience the older the generation the more kids (e.g. my great-grandmother had a whopping thirteen kids, my grandmother had seven, my mom has six, but a couple of my aunts only have one or two)
social class/work environment/school environment:
schools tend to be either arab curriculums but there is a high density of american/british curriculum schools
boys and girls tend to be separated in school around age nine/ten but some schools will be mixed genders up till graduation
yes, women work, tho admittedly some of them tend to have careers more than jobs (e.g. photographer, writer, etc while the men handle engineering, economics, etc)
no, not all of us are rich. in fact, countries like jordan, egypt, tunisia, morocco, and yemen (and infamously palestine) are acc struggling w poverty. its mainly just gulf arabs who are rich
furthermore, gulf arabs may be generally rich but a large chunk of them have the same lifestyle as an upper-middle class family in the usa. rich but not too rich. dont be fooled by the videos of guys wearing kandoras and driving lambos
speaking of kandoras...
outfits (keep in mind that spelling may vary since its all transliteration, and pronunciation may vary depending on region) (also keep in mind that even if we still live in the middle east, WE CAN WEAR JEANS AND HOODIES AND BAND SHIRTS. just, usually cover up more in public):
abaya: loose overgarment worn by women
jilbab/chandoor: also worn by women, type of long dress or tunic
the white robe all of yall know is known as a thobe, dishdasha, or kandora
the colored headscarf worn by men is known as a ghuthrain in the gulf, kevfiah in the levant. its kept in place with a black cord called a aghal, and under it they wear a skullcap called a thagiyah
those are the most common ones, however if youd like to get a lil more specific on clothong, the ultimate guide to arab clothing is here (it also has specified clothing for individual countries)
hope this helps, feel free to reblog w more info if you have any !!
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findasongblog · 10 months
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youtube
Find A Song about grief and the power of dreams
Flamingods - Dreams (On The Strip)
The song is about grief, but also about the power of dreaming and the journey the band has been on for over a decade plus. When I lost my Dad to Covid 3 years ago, I started having surrealist lucid dreams about him that felt both poetic and nonsensical. It felt like he was trying to reach me in these dreams, to give me advice or maybe just be closer to me, and so the song became a platform to channel that grief whilst releasing it into a euphoric void.
Shot between LA and London, the video is a hallucinated fever dream directed by Indian-LA based legend Tanmay Chowdhary, with some sun baked visuals, performances and animations created by our boy Charley Prest.
It stars Alia Mohamed, a Lebanese-American bellydancer and skater who we’ve wanted to work with for years. Her fluid movements carry the video’s narrative and leads to this beautiful belly dance performance at the song’s peak which might be my favourite sequence we’ve ever done in a music video.
The video is heavy on pomegranate imagery, a reference to Head of Pomegranate (Ras Rumman / رأس الرمان) – the name of the Bahraini village my Dad was born in. It became our way of paying tribute to him, alongside featuring some of his belongings like his boombox, binoculars, sunglasses and clothes, as well as featuring a traditional Arab dance in Alia’s belly dance finale.
Tanmay wanted to design a visual aesthetic that was reminiscent of the period the band and Alia grew up in whilst also tapping in to ‘The World of the Pomegranate’. He used old VHS cameras and combined it with more modern lens which resulted in this deep nostalgic feeling that seeps through the film.
Added to FAS Spotify playlist dream/psych/shoegaze/ambient.
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asraralmajid · 10 months
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artist Ahmed interview Fa222
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on Saturday, 29th April, 2023 at 9:30 AM I met the Bahraini fine artist Ahmed A.radha in his studio, located on Saar.
I had a few questions for him to answer, starting with the first question :
tell us who you are.
Hello I'm a teacher and fine artist, Ahmed A.radha Salih, I work as an art and decor teacher in the Ministry of Education in Al-Sahla primary preparatory school for Boys, I was born in 1989 and I graduated with an interior design bachelor's from the public authority for applied education and training in the state of Kuwait, he said.
second question: since when have you discovered your love for drawing?
 honestly, this hobby has been with me since I was in elementary school, I felt that the lines in the notebooks were neat, and the art teachers also noticed the distinction between my drawings. I participated in the competitions of the Ministry of Education at the school level, and there was an honour for me for the best font. these things made me feel that I had a sense of art, so I sought to achieve it when I grew up, he said.
third question: who is your first supporter?
in fact, the first support for me is the home ( family ), especially since when I graduated from high school, I may have graduated with a scientific major, as a science major sometimes makes some parents unwilling to make their child practice the arts when their child graduated from scientific major, as he has greater capabilities than the arts. which makes these parents detract from the field of art education. and as the field of interior design was new in 2008, there was no boldness for everyone to choose it, but my father supported me and encouraged me to choose what my ambition wanted and loved, which made me get a scholarship to the state of Kuwait to continue my studies there.
Fourth question: what are the hardships that faced you in the beginning?
 in the beginning, the raw materials were not available, which made me ignorant of many things. there was no good environment as it is now in society, such as exhibitions and workshops. these things were almost nonexistent, which slowed down the process of my first debut.
fifth and last question: why do you prefer traditional art to digital art? I have a feeling that it is closer to the human spirit, closer to the mind and life. I mean, when you look at a picture, in the end, the viewer's feeling diminishes from the work, regardless of the quality of the work and the length of time it takes to complete this work, which always makes traditional art in the first place.
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yaworldchallenge · 2 years
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🇧🇭 Bahrain
Region: Middle East
The Pearl Thief
Author: Noor Al Noaimi
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36 pages, published 2015
Original language: English
Native author? Yes
Age: ?
Blurb:
This is a lovely little short story about Hassan, a poor Bahraini islander, who finds himself in desperate circumstances. Driven by the need to take care of his ageing parents, he embarks on the unthinkable; a pearl diving quest when he can't even swim. But can Hassan be more than he is? Can he leave his world of poverty and being looked-down upon, to finally be someone in life and provide for his family? Or will he always be a poor man's son, destined to a life of destitution and struggle?
Other reps: #muslim
Genres: #slice-of-life #contemporary
My thoughts:
Just a short story about a boy in poverty who tries to dive for pearls. There was not much literature available in English for Bahrain.
Review to come.
Kindle link
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haslo8008vesan · 2 years
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Good boy!
The Bahraini Deaf Society is a (Shatira) association.. Its idea began many years ago when one of its founders noticed that deaf people on religious occasions do not know anything about what is happening around them.. So he volunteered to translate in sign language..
Since this moment, they have been writing a success story in the service of people with hearing disabilities, helping to solve their social, professional and educational problems, and developing their various skills.
Today, I spent several hours at the association's headquarters in one of the (Bahraini villages) with the (deaf) young photographer and designer of the association, Hassan Zuhair... to edit the new issue of the deaf magazine, in which Hassan participated in filming its activities and designing its pages.
Hassan is a third-year student from the Faculty of Arts, Department of Arts, and is working in the association at the same time.. in a field in which he discovered his talent and both his father and the association helped him to develop it through training and work.
He is also self-taught in the fields of photography (video and camera), magazine design, publications and the association's pages... in addition to the computer... the association trusts a lot in his ideas and suggestions..
He is a generous person like his association..whether in his interview or hospitality..and this is a natural human generosity and not artificial..he offered me Bahraini baked goods and a large cup of tea..and he wanted to make another drink, but I preferred to get acquainted with us by writing on WhatsApp. And lip movements!.. and his sitting to help me edit the issue that he designed on a new program for me..
And since he is from a humble family and needs money to help himself and his family.. Hassan means for the relatively little money, the congratulations are very much, God willing.. and he calls on his generation of young people to develop it, no matter how small it is, perhaps God will open the door of sustenance for him with it..
He aspires to open his own photography studio after graduating from university, and he will also continue to be present in the activities of the Deaf Association.
My father, may God have mercy on him, used to tell us every winter the story of Shater Hassan and Set Al Hassan.. He sings on the lips of Shater Hassan a song in which the player Hassan asks the eagle to return to him the pearl necklace that used to light the way for him while he was going to Set Al Hassan to present him as a gift.. But the eagle stole it and flew!!
In fact, the story of the good Bahraini, Egyptian, and Arab man may be unknown and devoid of a magical and miraculous atmosphere, but it meets with that folk tale that there are deep and rich meanings about patience, heroism, achieving the goal.. and inspiration..
To this struggling young man, my sincere greetings.. and my sincere prayers..
الشاطر حسن! جمعية الصم البحرينية جمعية (شاطرة).. بدأت فكرتها منذ أعوام طويلة عندما الحظ احد مؤسسيها ان الصم في المناسبات الدينية ال يعرفون شيئا عما يجري حولهم من أحداث .. فتطوع للترجمة بلغة اإلشارة.. ومنذ هذه اللحظة وهم يكتبون قصة نجاح في خدمة ذوي اإلعاقة السمعية ويساعدون في حل مشكالتهم االجتماعية والمهنية والتعليمية كما يعملون على تطوير مهاراتهم المختلفة.. قضيت اليوم عدة ساعات في مقر الجمعية بإحدى (القرى البحرينية) مع مصور ومصمم الجمعية الشاب (األصم) حسن زهير .. لتحرير العدد الجديد من مجلة الصم التي شارك حسن في تصوير فعالياتها وتصميم صفحاتها. وحسن طالب بالسنة الثالثة من كلية اآلداب قسم الفنون ويعمل في الجمعية في نفس الوقت.. في مجال اكتشف فيه موهبته وساعده كل من والده والجمعية على تطويره بالتدريب والعمل .. وهو يتعلم ذاتيا أيضا في مجالي التصوير (فيديو وكاميرًا) وتصميم مجلة ومطبوعات وصفحات الجمعية .. إضافة إلى الحاسوب.. وتثق الجمعية كثيرا في أفكاره ومقترحاته.. وهو انسان كريم مثل جمعيته .. سواء في مقابلته او ضيافته.. وهذا كرم إنساني طبيعي وليس مصطنعا.. حيث قدم لي مخبوزات بحرينية وكوبا كبيرا من الشاي .. وأراد عمل مشروب آخر ولكنني فضلت التعارف بيننا عن طريق الكتابة بالواتس آب وحركات الشفاه!.. وجلوسه لمساعدتي في تحرير العدد الذي صممه على برنامج جديد بالنسبة الي.. ونظرا ألنه من أسرة متواضعة الحال ويحتاج للمال لمساعدة نفسه وأسرته.. يعنل حسن من أجل المال القليل نسبيا المبروك كثيرا إن شاء هللا .. ويدعو جيله من الشباب إلى تطويرها مهما كانت صغيرة فربما يفتح هللا له بها باب الرزق .. ويطمح إلى فتح استديو تصوير خاص به بعد التخرج من الجامعة، كما سيظل متواجدا في أنشطة جمعية الصم.. .. كان والدي رحمه هللا يحكي لنا كل شتاء قصة الشاطر حسن وست الحسن.. ويغني على لسان الشاطر حسن اغنية يطلب فيها الشاطر حسن من النسر ان يعيد إليه عقد اللؤلؤ الذي كان يضيء له الطريق أثناء ذهابه إلى ست الحسن لتقديمه هدية لها .. ولكن سرقه النسر وطار!! وفي الواقع .. ربما تكون قصة الشاطر حسن البحريني والمصري والعربي غير معروفة وتخلو من األجواء السحرية العجائبية لكنها تلتقى مع تلك الحكاية الشعبية في ان هناك معاني عميقة وثرية عن الصبر والبطولة وتحقيق الهدف.. وااللهام.. لهذا الشاب المكافح خالص تحياتي .. وصادق دعواتي ..
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bu1410 · 21 days
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Good morning TUMBLR - March 7th - 2024
''Mr. Plant has owed me a shoe since July 5, 1971."
Ch. VIII - 1985- 1989 - Bahrain - Part 4
HOTEL HILTON While waiting for the apartment in the new condominium to be ready, I was invited to move from Awali to the Hilton hotel in Manama. Obviously I hoped that the work on the condominium would never end, or at least last for a few weeks. The room and treatment at the Hilton were not bad at all, and I could enjoy all the comforts that a modern 5-star hotel offers. During the Bahraini weekend – Thursday and Friday – we witnessed the invasion of the Saudis and Kuwaitis (the most hated nationality in the Gulf, no one cried when their country was invaded by Saddam). They took advantage of the recent opening of the bridge that connected the island to the mainland. Before the inauguration of the bridge that connected the island to the mainland, tourists from other Gulf countries were limited in number, given that they had to use the plane. With the bridge, especially immediately after its opening to traffic, there was a real invasion. Bahrain offered what was strictly prohibited in Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Qatar, Iraq, namely women and alcohol. It is true that the latter are two things equally prohibited by the Koran, but we know ''man is not made of wood''. The relative proximity of Mecca made it easier to give in to temptation, so after visiting Bahrain many tourists went on a pilgrimage to the holy city to ask for forgiveness. Then the worst Saudis of the lot arrived, those, so to speak, with Mercedes 600s with the interior covered in sheepskins . People of a rudeness and incivility amplified only by their sudden wealth. Usually they had food brought to their room, so they could eat sitting on the floor and with their hands, which in the restaurant would have attracted the looks and criticisms of other customers. Many of them took advantage of the Filipino maids who served the floors, to the point that the hotel management was forced to employ only male staff for room service. We then learned of a case in which the body of a waitress originally from Sri Lanka was found in a rubbish bin at the Sheraton hotel. The new barbarians went crazy in the lobby and in the swimming pool of the Hilton, there were numerous cases of people falling into the water while dressed, because they never took off their disdasha. One Friday evening I was in the hotel lobby when a Saudi man came in, a guy in his 60s, who literally couldn't stand up. He walked around for a long time, staggering and babbling incomprehensible words, before landing in front of the reception asking out loud:
Miftah…aetani almiftah…. (the key…give me the key…) The Indian employee at the reception looked at him with contempt, and said to him in English:
But don't you see the condition you're in? you're ashamed of the show you're putting on? At which the Arab seemed to regain a little strength, and leaning on the counter he replied: You do not know who I am! Respect! I am SAUDI!!! And I'm so rich that tomorrow I'll buy this shack hotel and you'll be fired!! The Indian suddenly remembered that he was an Indian (and therefore with rights equal to 0.0) made a thousand apologies, called a valet and made sure that the drunk guy was accompanied to his room without further incidents.
Mr. MASTRONARDO Mr. Mastronardo was a short, fat Sicilian, one of the many guys originally from Gela, Sicily. People who worked at the ENI rafinery there. Head of Planning Dpt, Mastronardo was a patient, affable and friendly person. At a certain point, his wife and 22-year-old daughter arrived in Bahrain, who later became engaged and then married to the son of the American director of the BAPCO refinery. I was invited to the engagement ceremony, and we had a nice funny time. To paraphrase local customs a bit, the boy's father gave a speech, accompanied by Mastronardo:
We are happy to announce the engagement of our children, and as the father of the suitor, I must undertake to provide you with the ''countervalue'' of your beautiful daughter. We have established that she is no less than 200 camels, so now I give you the first five, with the commitment to have the other 195 follow as soon as possible. And so saying, the American gave Mastronardo five camels made of wood and fabric, the work of local artisans.
On the occasion of a return trip that coincided with political elections in Italy, I made the trip with the entire Mastronardo' 's family. The mother and daughter carried with them a cute kitten - Moki - in a cat carrier. It was all like ''Ohhh.....Moki nice, don't worry, umm how nice you are, see you in Rome etc'' when they left him on the boarding carousel so they could put him in the hold.
Once we arrived in Rome, drama was lurking. We stood at the baggage carousel anxiously waiting for Moki. When the blue carrier appeared, Mrs. Mastronardo and her daughter let out screams of joy… which turned into screams of pain and anguish when they realized that Moki wasn't inside the carrier !!! The girl was desperate! But how is it possible, she screamed crying. Will it be in the hold? Will it be on the trolley that transported the luggage? Look for him, she shouted, as he tried to enter the suitcase tunnel.
It was all useless, the protests, the crying, the begging, the cat had disappeared, and was never found again. His disappearance remained an unsolved mystery, the most probable hypothesis was that he had never been on the flight: perhaps a baggage loader at Manama airport had seen Moki as the perfect gift for his daughter.
ELECTRICAL ENG. FROM VARESE, ITALY Mr. Carcano was an individual who arrived in Bahrain on a Friday evening to assist the shift electrical Engineers who was inside ''the aquarium''. The manner of his arrival was another of those little 'masterpieces' of Italian ingenuity. He didn't speak a word of English, and naturally at the airport he didn't see the driver hoisting the sign with his name on it ''CARCANO LUIGI''. The fact is that the local driver returned from the airport without him, but saying that on the passenger list he had arrived regularly. They found him the following day at the Marriot hotel, where he had managed to get a taxi to take him, and after he had called in Italy complaining ''that no one came to get me''. The dispute over who should pay the hotel bill went on for months. On a Thursday evening we went to dinner at a Thai restaurant in Manama. Among us Carcano too, who, when asked by the waitress if he wanted shark fin soup ''hot'', surprisgly replied ''how hot??……very hot'' he said after consulting the small Italian/English dictionary he always carried in your pocket. We heard the conversation but we all kept silent…. When the soup arrived, we were waiting the possible consequences for Carcano - which were not long in coming: after the first spoonful his eyes seemed to pop out from his head!! He became all red, he tried in vain to speak and then someone said to him 'The bathroom …go to the bathroom!!'' Carcano managed to go, while the waitress looked at us astonished saying ''he ask for very hot…not my fault…!!'' Carcano came back after a quarter of an hour, it seemed had recovered, drank ice-cold water, had the soup taken away, and asked an ice cream as dessert. One day Carcano shared some of his curious theories on the curvature of the Earth. He claimed, for example, that traveling from North to South ''we were going downhill'' - ''otherwise how do you explain that in the summer, when we go with the family to spend our holidays in Mazara del Vallo, Sicily (his wife's place of origin) is it commonly said ''I'm going down to Sicily''? And then when you return to Milan, you say ''I'm going up North''? In fact – he continued – during the outward journey I spend long stretches with the gearbox in neutral, precisely because we are traveling downhill! And on the return journey he consumes much more petrol than on the outward journey!!
Once, during the Easter weekend, Carcano went from Varese to Nice, France, with his family in tow. For that Murphy's law that says ''If something has to go wrong, it will'', in fact something went wrong. Upon returning from the beach, Carcano realizes that he has forgotten the keys to his light blue Ritmo 60 3P L inside the locked car: desperation!! Anyone at this point would have tried to open the car with makeshift means, a screwdriver, a can opener - perhaps breaking a deflector, anyone but Carcano. The solution to the problem was to send his wife to VARESE to recover the spare key! And since the Ritmo certainly couldn't be left unattended with the key inside, Carcano spent the night on the comfortable bench on the Promenade des Anglais, right in front of the car, sheltering from the humidity of the night with beach towels which fortunately were they were brought from Italy. From the series: ''They are here…and they're walkin among us…''
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welidot · 9 months
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Jacqueline Fernandez
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This Biography is about one of the best celebrity of the world Jacqueline Fernandez including his Height, weight,Age & Other Detail... Express info Real Name Jacqueline Fernandez Nick Name Jacky Profession Actress and Model Age (as in 2023) 37 Years old Physical Stats & More Info Height in centimeters- 170 cm in meters- 1.70 m in Feet Inches- 5' 7” Weight in Kilograms- 56 kg in Pounds- 123 lbs Figure Measurements 34-25-35 Eye Color Dark Brown Hair Color Black Personal Life of Jacqueline Fernandez Date of Birth 11 August 1985 Birth Place Manama, Bahrain Nationality Sri Lankan Hometown Colombo, Sri Lanka School Sacred Heart School, Bahrain College University of Sydney, Sydney Education Qualifications Graduate in Mass Communication Debut Film Debut: Aladin (2009) Family Father- Elroy Fernandez (Businessman) Mother- Kim Brothers- 2 (Elder) Sister- 1 (Elder) Best Friends Sonam Kapoor Religion Christian Home Address Bandra,Mumbai,Maharashtra,India Hobbies Travelling, gymnastics, swimming and dancing Like &DisLike N/A Favourite Things Of Jacqueline Fernandez Favourite Food French cuisine Favourite Actress Angelina Jolie Favourite Actor Shahrukh Khan and Leonardo DiCaprio Favourite Colors White FavouriteFilm The Bridges Of Madison, Gone with the Wind Favourite Sports Basketball,Tennis,Cricket Favourite Perfume Issey Miyake Favourite Song N/A Favourite Destination Italy Favourite Book The God Of Small Things Boys , Affairs and More Of Jacqueline Fernandez Marital Status Unmarried Affairs Sheikh Hassan Bin Rashid Al Khalifa (Bahraini prince) Sajid Khan (Director) Marriage Date N/A Children N/A Earning Money of Jacqueline Fernandez Net Worth $9 million Salary per Film 2-3 Crore/film (INR) This Biography written by www.welidot.com Read the full article
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specs-tacularmen · 3 years
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🇧🇭 فلامرزي البحريني
A hard man is hard to find.
Seems like everyone wants to “bulk up”: a codeword for getting fat with an excuse.
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tanyushenka · 6 years
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Bahraini Muslim boys read the Qur’an at a mosque in the village of Sanabis, west of Manama, 2016. @Mohammed Al-Shaikh 
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A WEEK OF RAGE
Monday;
I go to my auto mechanic to pick up my British racing green Mercedes Benz E55, I’m having the sound system upgraded. It’s been in for four days, which is two too many in my opinion. When I arrive the first thing I do is confront the employees, but they either pretend to not speak English, or refer me to the owner who isn’t present. I opt to wait for him in the lobby.
It’s 152 minutes later when he arrives in an admittedly nice cream colored Audi TT. He’s Bahraini and dressed like a Miami Vice villain and reeks of One Million by Paco Rabanne. When I confront him he assures me he’ll light a fire under his guy's asses; but for an extra 30 dollars my car would be moved to the top of the list. He says it grinning, like only an idiot wouldn’t take this “fantastic” deal. I don’t know if it’s his odor, the wait or the effrontery of his offer but I succumb to rage. No hesitation or warning, just a quick palm strike to his nose. It’s not hard enough to break it but the left uppercut to his body that follows has no such restraint. As he topples towards me, I clinch with him and knee him right on his heart. Based on the sound he made, I believe I broke his sternum. I deliver an elbow strike to his fifth vertebrae before I let him fall into a sobbing, whimpering, writhing mess on the floor.
Then I remember that it’s the middle of a work day. Six employees and two other customers witnessed the whole event. No one lifted a finger to aid him, they didn’t even call the police. In fact the two customers applauded. One of the employees who pretended not to speak English tells me in perfect English my car will be ready in half an hour. Two other employees carry their employer into his office. As I sit down to wait, one of the two customers, mid 50’s with a full head of white hair, asks that employee, who we all now know speaks English, about his car.
Tuesday;
There are few fast food restaurants near my job, so I tend to frequently visit the same Jack In The Box on work days despite the nigh contemptible service. Whenever I go I always the same thing, Ultimate cheeseburger, no ketchup or mayo and a raspberry ice tea with no ice. There were three people ahead of me but the wait was minimal I order, pay and wait. Thank Hecate for smart phones, otherwise I’d either have to watch them make the food, watch the patrons and learn why every proceeding generation said they weep for the generation that followed or enter a near comatose state.
My order number is called and I grab the cup and bag and try to hurry away but bump into the guy who ordered ahead of me. He’s six feet four inches tall, muscular, in his late 40’s, dressed in red and blue Fubu, with a haircut and mustache that implies military. He returns to the counter and says, “Hey dicklips you fucked up my order.” This prompts me to check my order and sure enough, there’s a Jumbo Jack in the wrapper. The employee, about 22 years old, lanky; with hair, makeup, tattoos and piercings suggest he’s an emo college dropout who only got this job so his suburban sycophant parents didn’t kick him out of a house they’d never own because of predatory lending practices. I calmly walk up to the counter as he tells the complaining customer, “Better luck next time.” Before the customer can say another word say, “Excuse me, but you seemed to have made a mistake with my order as well.” To which he responds by throwing his hands up and loudly proclaiming, “I am so triggered right now!” and walks away. The other cashier, a hispanic woman in her early 20’s with a muffin top, looks at me and the other complaining customer, rolls her eyes and waves up the next customer just so she doesn’t have to deal with us.
“Can you believe this shit?” He asks me. To which I whisper, “No, I can’t” I’m staring at emo boy in the back talking to one of the food preparers. He’s just as young, emo, tattooed and pierced as the male cashier, but shorter and heavier. He looks like he plays drums in emo boy’s garageband that’s never had a paying gig, but they swear is gonna be big one of these days. I can tell by their gesticulations and body language that they’re not debating who fucked up our orders. When drummer boy gives us the two finger salute I snapped just like I did at the car mechanics.
I’m over the counter and advancing upon the two with hostile intent. The two just stare at me as if the law or the gods are going to stop me. Emo boy takes a palm strike to the nose that overtly breaks it. His drummer takes a kick to the crotch that, based on his reaction, hit some sort of genital piercing that maims his penis. He drops instantly, screaming, writhing and clutching his crotch. Emo boy is looking at the blood on his hands and proclaiming, “You can’t just do that man! I’m gonna sue your ass off! You’re gonna go to jail!” An uppercut to his diaphragm prevents him from saying anything else. I then try to shove his head into one of the deep fryers. He stops himself with his hands, but they’re slick with his blood and falls to his elbows. The blood and tears dripping from his face cause the grease to pop. He starts rapidly apologizing, telling me he’ll do anything if I don’t hurt him anymore. He seemed sincere. I knee him on his kidney and let him fall to a clearly dirty floor.
Muffin top has the building’s phone in hand, undoubtedly calling the police. I unfold my pocket knife and throw it at her. It hits her in a manner that damn near severs her thumb, causing her to drop the phone and yelp. The flying kick that followed hits her just below the collarbones slamming her into the wall. Her head bounced off the wall in a manner sure to result in a concussion. She falls to the dirty floor in a manner sure to result in a concussion. I hang up the phone and notice accosting the young lady seemed to earn me the crowd's ire. Though they’re hesitant to do more than whisper their disapproval and covertly call the cops. Still, I take the time to make a ultimate cheeseburger, no ketchup or mayo, and take a third pound of curly fries on my way out.
Wednesday;
After work, near my British racing green E55, I'm confronted by a man I've never met prior. Short and athletically built wearing sky blue shorts and shorts, no socks. Boxer shorts were dark blue with red pinstripes, white tank top a size too small. He also wore a white do rag and a faux silver chain. He claims I was disrespecting his girl. His manner and dress rule out law enforcement and organized crime. I plead ignorance, he tells me not to play games. I inquire to who his girl is, he insists I know who she is. I recommend we talk this out like adults, he asks if I don’t think he’s a man.
Now I have no clue what this is about; the one thing that’s clear to me is he’s looking for violence. Given the week I’ve had and the lack of security in the parking lot I was tempted to break every bone in his face. Still I thought diplomacy best. I offered an empty apology and promised to never do it again. This seemed to enhance his malevolence. He hikes up his shorts and proclaims he aint no bitch.
“Eviscerate him! For he is wicked! By wicked my mean contrary to your will!” screams the homicidal beast that dwells in the hearts and minds of only the most disturbed individuals. “Unveil his skeleton so he’ll be truly naked before your perfection! They say a sound like wailing winter winds can be heard if…”
I shake the voice out of my head; feeling this has gone too far I try to leave but a loud voice distracts me. “Kick his ass Dreshawn!” It belong to my coworker Maybelle, skinny, great ass, bad hair weave and six years younger than I am. I’d once told, Taj Pierce I bet Maybelle goes ass to mouth. I guess it got back to her.
It’s like when a parent says, “I just looked away for a second.” because the next thing I know I’m exclaiming, “That’s what this is about? Better run home to mama while you can Gay-shawn.” with far more spittle than needed.
“Wha’cha say bitch ass n-...” The sentence was supposed to end with a right hook to my jaw, but instead was easily countered with the most basic of aikido shoulder throws. Unfortunately he hit my British racing green E 55 breaking the driver side mirror. I just got it out of the shop, and have to find a new mechanic; these two facts send me into a rage (despite it being my fault). Dreshawn is on his feet, clearly in pain, clearly embarrassed. He throws two left jabs I’m out of range for followed by an overhand right so telegraphed I intercept it with a palm strike. I hear it fracture his wrist, but don’t give him time to acknowledge the injury. I follow the palm strike with a right hook that lands on his left eye, a left hook to his side, a right kick to his left knee that buckles on impact and a left Hisoka style uppercut to his jaw.
Maybelle exclaims, “OMG!” and tries to rush to his side, but I freeze her in place with the right look. She looks around and cries for help, knowing none will come. Dreshawn picked his moment too well. He’s failing to scuttle away from me mumbling, “Look man I didn’t want any trouble.” Through a dislocated jaw.
“What?” I exclaim while producing my brand new, never tasted flesh before pocket knife. “Clearly you were looking for trouble you pencil dicked cunt!” I’m frothing at the mouth and advancing upon him, “I gave you every chance to walk! And did you? Did you!?” I’m in striking range now, twirling the knife between my finger. “If you don’t answer, I’m going to cut your eyeballs in half. Now did you walk away?”
“NO!” he cries unable to hold back the tears. “Why?” I ask menacingly. When he responds with, “What?” I kick him on the appendix, raise the knife and scream, “Why didn’t you walk away!?”
“I don’t know!” He cries, “Because I love her, and I want to protect her. She means the world to me and…” I step on his throat to silence him. “Wrong,” I hiss, “You did it because you thought I was an easy target. If I six foot five, 250 lbs of alpha male you would’ve thought better of it. You’re the type of shit that runs from the strong and preys upon the weak; like a pedophile.”
This reignite his desire to fight, so I let him up. He stands on shaking legs and puts his dukes up. His jaw isn’t dislocated, a severe hematoma was growing on his chin. He clearly said, “I don’t need no chicken shit knife.” I close the knife and toss it to him so he can easily catch it. “The difference between me and you is you think you’re strong whereas I know.” I snicker.
He throws the knife at my face saying, “Muthafucka I said I don’t need no chickenshi…” The spin I use to dodge the knife ends in a roundhouse kick I plant on his right hip. He drops and screams like it’s broken. I kick him 20 times, most landing on his arms and legs. Needless to say, he has no fight left in him.
Maybelle has fallen to hysterics, “Oh, my god! Why did you do that? You didn’t have to do that! Why? He wasn’t gonna do nothing. Why you do that? Oh my god! You didn’t have to do all that!”
This simultaneously disgusts and enrages me. I dash to her and throttle her shouting, “Of course I didn’t have to do that! I gave him every chance to walk away and he didn’t! Because of you whore! If it wasn’t for bitches like you half the inmates in Attica would be free! But no, you wanted to see me put in my proper place. Well congratulations shit-louse! Here it is, a the muthafuking top of the food chain!”
“Let her go or so help me…” Dreshawn croaks. The sadistic grin I shoot him reveals the depth of his mistake. I puch Maybelle four times in the stomach, like I’m trying to abort a pregnancy. I let her fall to the ground in a whimpering heap. Dreshawn stands, roars, charges at me for three strides before falling disgracefully. He crawls to me and when in range, I drop an axe kick that dislocates his left shoulder. Then I make sure he has a good view as I fondle Maybelle’s tits, cunt and ass; over then under her clothes. I wipe the shit her asshole left on my fingers on Dreshawns face. He’s cursing me and making promises and threats that convince me I’m better off just killing him then and there. So I retrieve my knife just as a security guard arrives. I just say, “I don’t know what happened. Someone seems to have hit my car.” and quickly drive home despite his insistence.
Thursday;
With my car being repaired again, I had to take the bus to work and I was go out of the way to not lose my temper. On that very bus, I saw a attractive rubenesque girl. She looked young, but with a body like hers few would mind. I give her a lascivious look, take my seat and check instagram. The woman sitting behind her exclaims, “You stay away from her you pedophile! You got reason to be after girls like that! You should be ashamed of yourself! Have you no self control? You’re just like those Hollywood elitist. Wanna be Harvey Weinstein. The next Anthony Weiner everyone! I should call the police on your child molesting ass!”
Like everyone else on the bus, I do my best to ignore the woman; despite the fact that this diatribe continues for the entire 17.5 minute bus ride. When I get off the bus I thought I was rid of her. Oh how I was mistaken. It seems her tirade was directed at me. She declares she shall follow me everywhere I go and let them know what kind of person I really am. She looks like a 58 year old Anita Sarkeesian, except she African American, dressed in a black and gold outfit one only sees at red carpet events in New York circa 1973.
It’s a two kilometer walk from the bus stop to my job with nowhere to stop along the way. I assumed she’d give it up after half a click. Again I was mistaken. She had the resolve and stamina to make the walk and continue to verbally berate me  the entire time.
After approximately one kilometer I’d finally had enough and snarled at her, “Look bitch you’re free to tell my bosses whatever you want, but I don’t have to take this verbal abuse from the likes of you.”
“Bitch!?” she exclaims. “Who you callin’ a bitch? I got your bitch right here! I’ll show you a bitch!” and she swings her rather large purse at me. I dodge the purse twice but then a left cross comes at me. The punched is dodged but then I run into a fire hydrant. Thinking she has me cornered she swings the purse again. I use aikido number seven to evade and shove her into the street. The driver of the 18 wheeler slams on the brakes but still hits her, only hard enough bruise though. She looks at me and screams, “Muthafucker! You did that on purpose!” to which I scream, “You goddamn fucking right I did!” brandishing my knife and foaming at the mouth. “You better thank your god that loves little boys asses I don’t come over there and finish what I started!”
She’s aghast. She looks at the driver of the truck and shouts, “Did you hear what this muthafucker said to me?” The driver calmly replied, “Ma’am, do you need me to call an ambulance? If not, would you mind getting out of the street? You’re holding up traffic.”
I hurry to work beginning to suspect something might be seriously wrong with me.
Friday;
I picked up my British racing green Mercedes Benz E55 from the shop after my shift. To celebrate getting through the day without accosting or maiming anyone I stop in a drug store to buy beer. On my way in I coldly ignore a man asking for change. I purchase a tall can of Sapporo and a six pack of Hangar 24 orange wheat. On my way out that same guy is by the exit and asks loudly and clearly for spare change. I say, “Sorry.” without breaking stride or even looking at him; but he follows me saying, “Oh c’mon man, I saw that big fancy car you drive. I just need some change to get some food. i got kids to feed. Where’s your empathy brother? If we all just helped each other out this world would be a better place. C’mon man what would Jesus do?”
It was like a switch was flipped. Despite the fact I’m at my car and I’ve already unlocked the door. I could easily just get in and drive away and be done with it. But I’m just so overcome with pure rage. I drop the bag I had to pay for, whirl around and grab him by the front of his shirt and scream, “How ‘bout I dish it out in increments of five!” and punch him in the face while counting by five. At 25 he falls and I go with him so as to keep punching him in the face. At 100 I notice he isn’t moving anymore. Several people are filming with the cell phones by now. Undoubtedly some have called the police. I take the back streets to my house and park in the garage. I get drunk and fall asleep with my hand on ice.
Saturday;
I contemplated taking the day off to lay low and my hand still hurt. But, I can’t afford that. The work shift passes without incident and I elect to stop in a diner for a fried chicken dinner. It was crowded, but that was to be expected given the time, day and location. I’m sitting at a table making an appointment to see Dr. Ayane Tsunemori my psychologist as my food arrives. I take a sip of my raspberry iced tea with no ice only to discover it is a mr. pibb with no ice. I start for the registar when a commotion in the dining room distracts me. A college age blonde girl has fallen after going into convulsions. Her family is shouting for help, as pink foam begins to gurgle out of her mouth. The father (has anyone ever told him he looks like actor Dominic Keating?) is on the phone in tears coordinating with employees. I rush over and grab the hysterical mother and ask what her daughter ordered. After a violent shake she says, Fried chicken dinner and a mr. pibb with no ice.” She broke down into tears at the end, it’d be the last meal her daughter ever ordered.
Knowing she’s been poisoned, I look around. Assassins have to confirm the kill first hand. I see him two meters out the door. Blue jeans, Dark off greyish pseudo black t shirt. Walking nonchalantly to nowhere. A guy making sure not to get noticed or call attention to himself. He’s not even on his phone. I give chase. He’d only gone one building over and stopped in an alley lit with orange streetlights. Despite the horrible lighting I recognized this man.
“Old Painless? Of the 36 Wu-Dang Killers?” I ask as a show of respect.
“Bingo!” He smirks, “And you are Demon Lord of The Syndicate.”
“It seems our reputations precede us. ”I say while cautiously closing the distance between us.
“Hence the poison.” He shrugs, “Shame they mixed up the drinks. Now I have to dispatch you the old fashioned way.”
“I thought through...various yakuza and triad alliances and such that we were allies. At least not enemies?”
“Cheng Ling-Li says otherwise.”
I pull my pocket knife, I need no more words. He laughs, “I need no weapon to kill a man such as you!”
I attack, at first my blows are easily parried before a quick counter attack disarms me before I hit the concrete, spring back up and attack. He evades two punches, a spining backfist and an inside crescent kick before counterattacking with a quick yet stunning jab to my nose, spins behind me and hits me with a double fist attack. I get up and come at him with a telegraphed flying axe kick that’s a feint to get him into punching range. He dodges the right backfist and catches my straight left I didn’t think he saw coming and hurls me to the concrete. He strokes his beard and laughs at me.
I slowly get up. I’m literally and figuratively seeing red. I felt the rage erupting like a volcano. I wanted nothing more than to rip him apart and eat him myself! That’s when it occurred to me; there are no coincidences. Everything that happened this week, all the incidents; they had been his doing. A well planned and orchestrated maneuver to cloud my mind and judgement, thus negating my most potent weapon.
I yell, “I’m gonna rip off your head and shit down your neck!” and come at him with wild, looping hooks he easily dodges. I goes for the easy body shot I left open for him and to his surprise, I block and counter with a quick jab to his nose followed by a sloppy shoulder throw. Old Painless is up and no longer in the mood to play. But words and memory fail to accurately describe the intricate manner of our battle. I, having switched from Systema to Daitō-ryū Aiki-jūjutsu, him a master of Xin Yi Liu He Quan. You’ll have to fill in the blanks yourself. I can say had the event been recorded it’d easily be the highest viewed video ever.
Just as signs of injury and frustration began to show in Old Painless, a spotlight illuminated us indicating someone had called the police. We were detained The found no contraband on either of us and neither of us had active warrants. Neither of us wished to press charges nor did either of us require medical attention eventually we were released without charges, though separately.
Sunday;
I woke up bruised and sore but still kept my appointment with Dr. Tsunemori. I tell her of the weeks events, omitting everything that incriminates myself. She suggests I take a mini vacation. Go see a movie, try out a new restaurant, go golfing; something like that. And since that new Honduran bistro Kristoff Select told me about is closed today, I elect to see the latest Star Wars film. I had planned on taking a date to see it with me but c’est la vie…
After trailers for the new Vin Diesel movie and something that looked much worse starring Kellan Lutz and Geena Davis, I go to the toilet so I don’t have to go during the film. In the restroom are three Hispanic men, writing on the walls with black permanent markers. The first was a dead ringer for actor Robert LaSardo in Tiger Land, save he was almost four foot ten inches tall with his shabby brown boots on. He wore a wife beater and sagging jean shorts that exposed boxer shorts that were once white, but now a lighter shade of pink.
The second was just as tall as I, though at least 30 kilos heavier. He wore an Ezekiel Elliott jersey and blue jeans that sagged despite his girth. He’s in his mid 20s and has a jail grade buzzcut. The last was a lad of no older than 17. He was short, like the first guy and of average build. He wore a white Kobe Bryant jersey, matching shorts and a black hat with the word ’OBEY’ in white stitching. He has maybe a dozen hairs growing from his upper lip.
I glance at the vandalism, wonder where were these guys three days ago and move on to a urinal. They have a hushed but audible conversation about what to do now and The oldest of the three convinces the youngest this is his chance to earn a rep. I finish and move to the sink to wash my hands while the oldest gives me a ‘You think you hard?’ stare forged in US prisons.
I’m drying my hands the youngest one tries to sucker punch me. I simply side step and let him punch the paper towel dispenser. I then shove him into the largest of the three, who advanced in anticipation of the sucker punch landing. He says something like,
“What? You’re gonna disrespect the hood?” and comes at me  with his fists up, leaning back. It’s an outside leg kick to his right knee followed by an inside leg kick to the same knee and he buckles. I finish him with an uppercut and pose stylishly afterwards to intimidate the other two. It doesn’t work. The teen comes at me with three sloopy crosses that I easily avoid and lead him to the electric hand dryer and aide him in hitting face first twice.
The third guy, the one that remained conscious, laughed at hs fellows, out his hands up and says, “I’m not looking for trouble. These two wanted to be big men and I tried to warn them.”
I snicker and say, “So you can lord the day they got their asses kicked trying to impress you over them? Or make up some lie about how you saved them? How you whipped my ass while they were unconscious? Sorry partner, can’t do. You gotta get worse than the others.”
When I’m done with him he’s unconscious, has a bruised kidney, three cracked ribs, a broken left orbital bone and both his left canines and his upper left lateral incisor are missing. I then pull down all three of their pants to make it weird for who ever finds them. I managed to enjoy the film despite the constant anticipation of an usher or police officer pulling me from the theater. But, they never did.
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rightsinexile · 5 years
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Detention and Deportation News
GLOBAL: With policymakers under growing public pressure to manage unwanted migration, questions of how, when, and under what conditions unauthorized immigrants, rejected asylum seekers, and other migrants can be returned to their origin countries received increased attention at international levels in 2018.
CHINA: Beijing faces criticism from activists, academics and foreign governments over mass detentions and strict surveillance of the Muslim Uighur minority and other ethnic groups in the western region of Xinjiang.
INDIA: The Madras High Court questions the rationale of deporting the Indian-born son of a Sri Lankan refugee with no other connection to the country to Sri Lanka.
LEBANON: Three recognized refugees held in prolonged arbitrary detention in Lebanon face the imminent threat of deportation to Sudan. During 2018, Lebanon’s General Security Directorate, the agency that oversees entry and exit of foreigners, has deported at least eight non-Syrian recognized refugees.
THAILAND: Against its own regulations, Interpol granted a red notice against a Bahraini refugee and football player who now faces extradition from Thailand. Questions have been raised about the possible involvement of the president of the Asian Football Confederation, who is a member of the Bahriani royal family.
UNITED KINGDOM: In a landmark High Court ruling, the UK Home Office has been ordered to arrange the return of an “exceptionally vulnerable” Afgani boy after the Court found his removal to Germany unlawful. Under EU law asylum seekers may be sent back to the country where they have previously claimed asylum but the rule does not apply to minors. The law also stipulates if a child has relatives in an EU country they should have their asylum claims processed there.
UNITED STATES:
Over the past six months, hundreds of police reports have detailed allegations of sexual assaults in immigrant children’s shelters. The reports, obtained through public records requests, revealed a largely hidden side of the shelters — one in which both staff and other residents sometimes acted as predators. ProPublica has found that these sexual assault cases are largely open and shut.
The US government has deported at least 30 of a planned 1,400 people originally from Iraq, in some cases threatening long imprisonment if they don’t consent, according to Human Rights Watch. In all cases the deportees lack valid identity documents, putting them at risk of arbitrary detention and mistreatment in Iraq.
The Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals heard arguments in C.J.L.G. v. Whitaker, a case that addresses whether children facing deportation have the right to a court-appointed attorney. Currently, US immigration courts order unrepresented children deported despite the potential life-or-death consequences of these cases.
Despite a unique 2008 agreement that specifically bars the deportation of Vietnamese people who arrived in the United States before July 12, 1995—the date the two former foes reestablished diplomatic relations following the Vietnam War—the Trump administration is resuming its efforts to deport certain protected Vietnamese immigrants who have lived in the United States for decades—many of them having fled the country as refugees during the Vietnam War.
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ميدل إيست آي: المملكة المتحدة متهمة بتعريض حياة ستة أطفال بحرانيين للخطر
ميدل إيست آي: المملكة المتحدة متهمة بتعريض حياة ستة أطفال بحرانيين للخطر
البحرين اليوم – من لندن .. نشر موقع” ميدل إيست آي” مقالة الجمعة 4 مارس 2022 لدانيا عقاد بعنوان” المملكة المتحدة متهمة بتعريض حياة ستة أطفال بحرانيين محتجزين في دار للأيتام للخطر”. UK accused of endangering six Bahraini boys arbitrarily detained in orphanagehttps://t.co/fHygFYK2gd pic.twitter.com/BHCdiGmsml — Middle East Eye (@MiddleEastEye) March 4, 2022 أشارت المقالة إلى أن جماعات حقوقية قالت…
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listsclub · 3 years
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In the Arabian Peninsula, Bahrain has the oldest public education system. The system was established in 1930 when the government of Bahrain was responsible for operating two existing boys’ primary schools. In 1927, the first group of Bahraini to receive university education entered the American University of Beirut, Lebanon. The Gulf Institute of Technology was the first higher education institution in Bahrain. It was established in 1968 as the Gulf Institute of Technology. The University of Bahrain is the top university in Bahrain which is located in Isa city. In this post, you will get a complete list and their links to all universities in Bahrain.
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