| As the snow melts from the high mountain passes of the Ardennes, the Turks and the Kurds celebrate Spring with ritual mustache cursing and other traditional festivities... |
The incidents took place after the deliberate setting of fire to a Kurdish cultural centre on the Liedekerkestraat in Sint-Joost-ten-Noode in the early hours of Sunday morning. A Kurdish centre was also set on fire in the Booneelsstraat in the same municipality in 1998. On Sunday the Kurdish community started gathering in front of the community centre from about 10 am and a spontaneous protest arose. Police had to use water cannons on the crowd in the afternoon. At about 8 pm police had to intervene once again in order to separate smaller groups that had becoming engaged in fighting. The area was quiet last night, say police.
| Well I can remember going to the riots with my Grandaddy when the Swedes sank the Andrea Doria. Thousands of frenzied, teeth-gnashing fruit sellers, cobblers, and mandolin players descended en masse on the Swedish quarter, to be met by almost as many men named Ole, blue eyes flashing in the sun as they determined to defend their turf. On the right, the Sophia Loren Brigades raised the banner of their patron and descended on the hapless Nordics, brandishing ax handles and brass knuckles. "Anita Ekberg!" the Swedes shouted, counterattacking and trying to turn the Italiano flank. The Claudia Cardinale Martyrs Brigades quailed at the onslaught, but the women of the Marcello Mastrianni Legion came to the rescue, moustaches bristling, rolling over the enemy like they were ravioli dough. The Swedes were swept from the field, routed, to skulk in their lairs, muttering in their tasteless meatballs while we looted their Volvos and paid court to their neglected wimmin with their generous, milk-white bosoms... No. Wait. That didn't happen, did it? It's only seared, seared in my memory. But Grandaddy did say "Damn Swedes!" I remember that part. |