Got Khat?

Americans chew tobacco. Indians chew paan. Yemenis chew khat.

Ethiopians, Somalis, and a host of other East African peoples also chew the leafy substance. But, Yemenis are the most hooked – two-thirds are said to be khat consumers.

Khat is a mild stimulant stronger than caffeine but less potent than cocaine. Users feel a buzz that decreases appetite, increases sexual stamina, and hones concentration. It was carelessly enjoyed during wedding parties and holiday celebrations among Yemeni immigrants to the U.S. - from Dearborn, Mich. to New York City.

But that all changed, when federal drug authorities began treating khat users, growers, and dealers as criminals on the opposing side of the drug war. The subculture has been under siege by zero tolerance policies, but the Yemeni community is eager to appear unbothered by changes in law enforcement.

"We don't do that around here. We have come to this country to work 12 hours a day, and there is no time for that. Only back in Yemen, it’s different there," said Mohammed Abdu, 21, who manages an East Harlem deli at East 117th Street and Madison Avenue.

"We used to chew in Michigan, but I haven't chewed khat since 2005. It's hard to get and too expensive," said Abdu. "Plus, it's not even worth chewing if it's dried. In Cali and Detroit, you can't even grow it anymore," Abdu added, mentioning a friend in Michigan jailed for growing.

“If we Yemenis didn't have khat, we'd have other drugs. Better khat than something worse," he said.

The five to six hour khat-chewing cycle is typically enjoyed in the afternoon. The drug induces a comfortable and relaxed buzz. "If you bad in the morning, then you good by the afternoon," said Abdu.

Khat is against the law in the U.S., and a crackdown by authorities makes consumption of the drug exceedingly difficult. But, the many Yemeni immigrants surveyed for this article were loath to suggest that they enjoyed consumption of the drug, for fear of legal repercussions.

Prior to the stricter enforcement, khat was sold freely, in bodegas and cafes from East Harlem to Boerum Hill. Immigrant communities continue to chew, albeit behind closed doors. And peddling the drug has been driven deep underground, conducted by dealers who risk significant jail time.

The drug has disappeared from places such as the Yemen Cafe on Brooklyn's Atlantic Avenue, where construction workers, travel agents, and shopkeepers mingle over chicken loubia and lamb zorbian. Pictures of Yemeni villages and ceremonial daggers on the wall remind patrons of the old country. But, none of the two dozen customers were chewing khat on a recent Monday afternoon.

The manager, who would not give his real name, said that even chewers know their mild addiction is a waste of time. He added that the subject was very sensitive because neighborhood residents were afraid of being arrested.

In 2000, seizures of the product and arrests of the khat dealers in Cobble Hill began hampering consumption.

A rough year for khat importers was 2003, when U.S. drug authorities seized over 45 tons of khat in the New York metro area. According to Erin Mulvey, spokesperson for the Drug Enforcement Agency, the seizures have continued, leading to Somalia Express, the biggest New York anti-khat operation in 2006, which netted 44 arrests.

"The khat crackdown has resulted in a decrease in consumption, especially in New York, which is a hub of khat distribution. Due to law enforcement efforts, a majority of users now understand the drug's illegality," Mulvey said.

Eradication efforts have driven khat prices higher, resulting in a market price that has more than doubled since 2000.

A bundle of fresh leaves includes about a dozen stems and costs about $50. But fresh leaves are hard to find in the U.S. The dried leaves, of inferior quality, are much more common.

Mahmoud, 48, is a Yemeni immigrant from the city of Ibb who works at the same East Harlem bodega as Abdu. He said that khat makes people loquacious but forgetful. Mahmoud also said that abstainers in his hometown are stigmatized as too shy or too poor to afford the daily chewing session.

“I used to chew khat to take tests better and retain information. It's like coffee but stronger," said Mahmoud. "Here in New York, people don't mind the government crackdown. Some people even move to the U.S. to get away from khat, but the last time I chewed, I was 16. When I go back, I'd rather buy toys for my kids or take trips to the mountains than buy khat."

Sitting on a 36-pack of Coors Light, Mahmoud demonstrated how Yemenis relax to the drug and discuss poetry and politics. "If I chew here, I gonna be crazy. You need time to rest afterwards. Working 12 hours a day here, you can't do that," Mahmoud said.

The drug is legal in much of Europe, including the United Kingdom, which has a vibrant khat-chewing community in London. But, it is considered a Schedule 2 controlled substance in the United States, as illegal as oxycontin and hydrocodone.

Many critics believe that khat is a waste of time and money. Khat is often associated with chronic underemployment. While it is only mildly addictive, it can cause gum disease.

The debate over khat in East Africa and the Middle East focuses on both the economic and social costs of the drug. Opponents argue that agricultural resources would be better utilized growing other plants.

Khat cultivation uses an estimated 40% of Yemen’s country’s water supply, but one can hardly blame farmers, who yield up to five times more from khat cultivation than from any other crop.

“Nowadays, khat is just something that you do while watching TV. You do it with your friends at home instead of going to a bar. It’s just like eating these chips,” said Ahmed Jahm, 37, a Yemeni immigrant who works at Wahidah restaurant in Boerum Hill, who was munching on vegetable root chips from the Trader Joe’s on the other side of Court Street.

“People just talk about their store’s problems and whose kids are going to this or that college. But, I don’t chew, ‘cause I have a 14-year-old son, and I have to be a good role model.”

The Goddesses of Psych Trance

Not since the heights of Burning Man have I frolicked in luscious layers of psychedelic madness.

The hallu- cinogenic intensity of the PsyTrance phenom is of far-reaching popularity in certain corners of the world. The Morning Glory party that I recently attended with two members of the tribe was on the slopes of Mt. Galboa, where King Saul was brutally slaughtered by the Philistines. The site seemed perfect for a nature party, set in a fertile meadow overlooking the Jezreel Valley in one of the Levant's primary agricultural breadboxes.

The party touched on the same Burning Man themes. While I am not able to attend Burning Man this year due to my present location 5000 kilometers from Black Rock City and a clear lack of sufficient energy, fiscal, and temporal resources, I had a satisfactory annual dose of PsyTrance at Morning Glory. The Semitic gods and goddesses who came forth to offer their souls to the supreme deity of nature took many forms. Namely, most of the attendees took on the roles of forest gnome, elfin wanderer, mountain warrior, and mermaid mistress. The level of spiritual consciousness that was attained by the sum-total of PsyTrance energy auras rendered the experience incredibly surrealistic.



Although I must admit that PsyTrance in any or all of its formats as Goa, Psychedelic, etc is not my musical favorite, the scene associated with this musical genre is appealing in its stylistic and experiential dimensions. Even if the music's pounding is not ideal for the tastiest cup of mushroom tea, it does produce a vibe that cannot be found elsewhere. Generally, nature parties truly do achieve a sense of communion with the natural environ in such a manner that is nature attained at other sorts of parties. Overall, the accoutrements of nature parties are the most aesthetically alluring. Personally, due to an overwhelming obsession with Canaanite hair texture and shape, perhaps the most memorable aspect of these festivals are the tribal doos. I've encountered many folks who have similar infatuations with the profusion of such hairstyles. Voluminous locks and thick manes prevail at nature parties. They complement the presence neon psychedelic art and objects. Furthermore, their proudly natural quality communicates a profound relationship with the primal human environ.

May the God of Psych Trance reign forever in the Holy Land, Black Rock City, and beyond. Please holler this way for any questions about Burning Man or tips on how to maximize this year's psychedelia!

the savory sf loin

Wire on Tap

Drugs get transacted. Buyers and sellers develop an extensive system of exchanging product for capital. The industry thrives, while the city ails. Addicts, runners, snitches, and bystanders get stomped by industry head honchos, who patrol the streets of the ghetto with full impunity. Their eyes are lit up with the knowledge that their code of behavior is more robust than the official rule of law. Cops attempt to rollback the prevailing urban pharmaceutical system of distrubution with the courts, zero tolerance, aggressive enforcement tactics. But to no avail. This is the world inhabited by the Wire, HBO's stellar program that just concluded its fourth season.

Authenticity is the province of this show, as its writer and director were born and bred on Baltimore's police, journalism, and urban mayhem. There is substantial reason to believe that the show expertly captures the gritty reality of a vast segment of Baltimorean cultural and economic life. The dealers are case studies in diehard entrepreneurialism, their egos stroked by a city whose fiends soak up a constant supply of chemical sustenance. The drug kingpins in the Wire are depicted as masters of their domain who generally are inclined to knock off relatively undeserving interlopers. Stringer, the Barksdales, and Omar consist of the business elite in the show's capitalizing upper echelons. Their drive to accumulate wealth is egged on by the mouths of the hungry and hopeless habitual drug users, who number around 50,000 in today's Baltimore.

That's in a city of about 640,000 folks. A city on the population rebound from it's lowpoint in 2000. An urban unit that suffers from the highest per capita murder rate of any American city with a population over 250,000. Averaging between 250 and 300 murders yearly, Baltimore's murder rate remains stagnant at about 6 times New York's. Believe it or not, Baltimore was the largest American city after NYC until 1870.

In this context, the Wire portrays B-more as a city on the edge. Though so far I've not watched past the first season, the show depicts my hometown as a battlefield. The cops try desperately to pursue justice the best ways they know how, without trampling on too many civil liberties but also without full respect for the rights of the criminals. Clearly, in the Machiavellian world of the drug trade, the cops can't be too bothered by the letter of the law. Clearly, the dealers aren't bound by anything more than a primitive Stop Snitching ethic that supposedly governs their actions - until they too face the Prisoner's Dilemma head on and must rat to save their own skin.

Is the show excessively negative in its depiction of a criminal culture that seems to overshadow the more promising aspects of city life? What does the show owe the city in terms of positive reinforcement of viable role models or upright citizens? The show does not delude viewers into thinking that the drug trade is all gravy. And neither does it suggest that police work is sacred. To the contrary, no one truly ends up on top in the Sisyphean challenge of preserving a semblance of urban order. Cops need to cooperate with the dealers to whom they have access. The way they pit certain players against others that get played reiterates the idea that anyone is liable to "get got" at almost any time. The brutish tendencies of both sides in the drug war belie the best intentions of certain cops to earn an honest living and of the few dealers that seek to minimize the collateral damage of their daily peddling and gun-toting.

The Wire treats enterntainment as a profane pursuit. Whereas some cop shows profess to contain sacrosanct messages about public policy or social redemption, this particular one steers clear of moralizing. The nightly reality of Baltimore's thug culture is straight fucked up. There's no denying the deadly characteristics of a street game that, while increasing the inner city GDP by a significant multiple, renders decrepit vast expanses of the city and creates an entrenched cycle of violent engagement between urban security forces, opposing drug gangs, and the dreaded snitches that bridge the gap in this civil war of sorts. Government soldiers cannot be entrusted with the authority to enforce laws on an equal basis. Gangsters produce an endearing culture of criminal glorification with regards to the urban other. Historically accurate fiction gives us the impression that we are privy to these social universes that are far removed from our own. The Wire has got me on tap.