Friday, 25 July 2008


The saying goes among the global community of scholars, scientists and academics, ‘ Write a paper and see the world’. The implication is that once you write any paper on any subject, you can find a venue for it in some international conference or academic meeting, provided that it upsets nobody and that you are a scientist stupid enough as to waste your time in writing papers. You can then present it to so many other useless venues in so many different places and on so many diverse occasions that no other scholar would notice it. Thus you would be able to enjoy visiting so many places , all in five stars hotels and beautiful locations. They may even pay you generously for your repeated pleasures.
As a casual member of this much respected fraternity, I happened to notice something else coming out of its activities, which prompted me to modify that epigram to make it read: ‘ Write a paper and fuck the world!’ To the female academics, doctors and scientists of many Muslim countries, like some of the Gulf states, or dictatorial regimes, like Burma, an international gathering to discuss the latest developments in cancer treatment or latest archaeological discoveries in Africa, far away from their home countries, is the only chance for meeting a male partner and slipping into bed with a worthy lover without getting too involved or committed or compromised. The five star luxury atmosphere and free vintage drinks help in washing every thing down. Frustrated lovers, inhibited men and women, disappointed spouses, shy young scientists and all those endowed with the curiosity of science and belief in the experiments of trial and error find excellent opportunities in these seasonal respectable meetings, secure enough from the suspicious eyes of their jealous spouses and watchful kinsmen.
What is more to the point, I found that the more you f..k the more invitations and commissions you get. Contemporary academics have become like the old mariners, with mistresses dotting the world in every centre of learning. In Heidelberg, they may have a blond Germanic female giant for a one night stand. In Venice, a voluptuous, sun-tanned waitress. In Beirut, a Phoenician Goddess. In Tokyo, a well groomed geisha. What is Soho, Montmartre or al-Ahram Street in comparison to all these great centres of learning, to Oxford , Cambridge or Harvard?
Soon after reading his paper, a colleague of mine had two great intercourses during the two weekend courses organised by the Gulf Studies Centre in Exeter. It was in that same seminar on peace in the Middle East that Dr. Sabiha al-Fadhli lost her virginity to a fair looking, blue eyed professor from Sweden, an expert in Arabic etching.
I remember well a history professor from Tajikistan, a lovely creature with red cheeks, the colour of pomegranate. She was almost half undressed when she suddenly sobered up and changed her mind. She pulled up her trousers and fastened its zip. ‘ Oh, no. Not now,’ said she, ‘ Not in this conference. We’ll do it next time. In the next conference in Rome. I promise. Dictoor Kistani, I need to know you a bit more. I want to learn more of your opinions on Islamphobia.’ She got up and fixed her blouse buttons firmly. ‘ There will be plenty of time for this in Rome. We’ll be spending five nights there’
As it happened, I was not invited to the Rome Conference on Christian –Muslim Dialogue and I lost my chance of exploring the art of love making in Tajikistan.
But the problem of the Middle East has remained and shall remain the most promising field for mating scholars. One wanders how many high IQ babies it has produced so far. But we can understand why it has remained insoluble despite all these well publicised and generously funded international conferences. It is just that the participants spend all their time in copulating and thinking of copulating. ‘Do you know what I am feeling now?’ said an Arab delegate attending an Arab reform forum in Washington whilst ravishing a young American waiter in his hotel, ‘ I feel that I am f..king the whole of American imperialism.’
‘ Yes, Sir,’ said the young waiter, firmly clutching his one hundred dollar note in his hand, ‘ But do you know what I feel, Sir? I feel the whole case of your Arab Reform is in my backside.’


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