robinlawrence’s Space

I have been here helping to plan next year's Drama festival for 11-14 year olds that many of my current students will want to come to.  I have also been sharing lesson ideas and even led a workshop too.  All good stuff.

And if travel broadens the mind then I pleased to report that my mind has been suitably further broadened by my time here especially as I have been pondering about the many restrictions imposed on Brunei by its benevolent dictator style Sultan in conjunction with Islam.  And it would appear to me that the more strict the rule the more creative humans have to be to get round that rule. 

Let's take alcohol as the first one.  I am not a big drinker, especially as I continue to try to get into the right shape for an upcoming half marathon in two weeks.  However knowing that alcohol is completely banned in Brunei has made me crave an ice cold beer.  That first sip of that first glass of beer.  Wow.  That thirst quenching moment, especially in this heat too?  Oh, wow.  But alcohol is completely banned.  Except that it isn't, because human have to find their ways round rules that they either don't like or wish to follow.  After a day of hard work yesterday, and yes, 15 Drama teachers do work hard when they get together.  We don't just flounce around and call each other "Darling" all day long.  Well to reward our hard work our host took us for dinner to The Brunei Yacht.  Conveniently this is one of three places in Brunei where it has been declared that the laws relating to alcohol do not apply.  The club is permitted to sell alcohol, but unless 'special coffee' is to your liking then one needs to bring one's own booze.  Consequently when getting off the coach I was given the task of carrying in one of the two cases of beer.  Watched over by security I signed my name and a random series of numbers that may have had some connection to my passport on a piece of paper and the formalities were completed.  Fifteen drama teachers and associated staff seated themselves at a long table and various people pulled out various bottles of vodka, gin, wine and yet more beer out of certain bags and the evening flowed.  

Don't get me wrong it was a pleasant evening but it was weird.  The grandest thing about the yacht club is its title, although the food was pretty special, but it just felt odd.  Coupled with the country wide smoking ban, except for the yacht club, I really had to do several double takes about the place.

Then there is the small issue over body parts.  Certain body parts are favoured over others in Brunei with some limbs and joints being considered more risqué than their less tempting others.   The most frowned upon body parts are women's shoulders, armpits, knees and cleavage.  Men's knees are also not permitted in certain buildings, most notably mosques.  With an almost Victorian debate raging in Britain at the moment about was is and is not acceptable as school uniform it would appear that Brunei-ans have a clear picture of what should be on show and what should not.  Shoulders and knees are distracting, apparently to men, while arm-pits should not be mentioned.  Men's knees should also be carefully hidden from view in mosques.  I like to think that I advocate a practical approach to body parts and clothing.  In a hot, sticky, tropical climate I like being able to wear shorts, but also understand that when going to work you need to put on the smart uniform of the going to work person.  However to segregate women's knees and shoulders out for special victimization does seem silly.  And then there is the matter of head scarves.  Apparently, word on the Brunei streets has it that men would not be distracted if they saw a female shoulder or knee.  To me it feels like nonsense as the rules appear to suggest that men are useless and have no self control, while women are simply there to be lusted over by men.  In fact it is more this silly.  It annoys me.

Next there is the matter of touch.  Muslim boys and girls should not allow their skins to touch each other, making some Drama and Dance activities in school very difficult indeed, if not impossible.  Generally girls and boys in school are quite good at avoiding each other without these daft rules and they are usually, here in SE Asia far more focussed on getting their Mathis homework done than anything else.  In fact the contraceptive power of Maths homework should not be underestimated.  Passion over a fraction?  Desire served with a quadratic equation?  Serenading your loved one with a histogram?  I don't think so.

But I digress.  And I apologize for not yet mentioning the Brunei-an law against cross-dressing, which must be a mine field to try to enforce.

I return to relative sanity of Malaysia tomorrow, where there is a sign displayed in most supermarkets stating that it is illegal for Muslims to buy alcohol.  But before I return a word or two about the hotel in which I and fellow Dramatists are staying.  What it lacks in cultural sensitivity through its name The Empire Hotel more than makes up for in marble and gold.  It is huge and magnificent and opulent and ridiculous all at the same time.  When I checked in was given a chilled melon juice, cold towel and official welcome letter from the manager, one Mr Nigel Badminton, and then whisked off to my vast room in a swish golf buggy.  Trying to make sense of my luxuriously carpeted and marbled room I took to counting and quickly totted up seven towels, fourteen teabags (seven different flavours), multiple bathrobes, slippers, toothbrushes, soaps, washing tonics and potions along with essentials such as a shoe cleaning service, multiple writing pads and an ironing board plus iron.  I would have to work hard to get through that lot, I thought.  However that was not all.  Outside in the grounds of the place, apparently grounds that are the size of Monaco, I managed to find a cinema, gym, multiple swimming pools, hot tubs and even the sea.  Again I am not sure what to think.  When I am on a family holiday I get excited about a hotel if it includes breakfast.  The Empire and Mr Badminton have ensured that a feast is provided each day, the size of which would probably feed the entire population of Monaco.

Finally a word or two about I am currently writing from.  A chain coffee shop in Bandar, the capital.  After visiting the outside of a mosque, (I did break the rules briefly by going inside without covering up my sinful knees) I have sought sanctuary and caffeine.  I was enjoying my coffee until I stopped to listen to the lyrics of the piped-in music.  They went like this "Little Stupid Ass Bitch I Ain't F**king With You.  I don't give a f**k about you," repeated multiple times.  How nice and how very respectful.   

PS I asked politely for a music change.