forever

if forever had to end now...would we be happy?

would we be the epitome of 'the invitation' and 'desiderata'

or would we live by experiences gone by, 

bitterness engulfing us?

or would be able to stand up to those around us,

for what we believe in,

forgiving those who hurt us,

moving on,

giving second chances,

yet respecting those around us, while respecting ourselves.

are both uniquely exclusive?

or mutually complimentary?

does this make us weak?

naked to being hurt?

or does it take us to the beginning?

leading by example,

from the most humble,

loving,

forgiving,

sincere,

devout individual,

who also...

endured hardship,

loss,

turmoil,

hunger,

defeat...

yet turned it all into something positive.

the choice

is

YOURS!

LOVE LIKE U'VE NEVER BEEN HURT

Trip to the Spa

During this week I went out for coffee with my friend Sadia. She’s recently expanded her previously small beauty salon into a very larnified spa. She got herself a posh house that she’s converted and equipped with all the latest gadgetry. The garden has these relaxation pools and water/sound therapy and there’s a room with light therapy and some other weird stuff that I don’t quite get, but maybe I’ll try out someday. Her clientele vary from the ultra modern chic executive to the bored housewife who wants to keep herself polished. Now I’ve heard about how women who go to the hairdresser offload as if they’re visiting a shrink but it was only when I heard all of Sadia’s stories that I believed it! The one that struck me most was about the niqabi woman whose husband drives her to the salon. Of course it’s expected that treatments will take a couple of hours and he agrees to fetch her after a while. She enters the salon and says she’d like an appointment for a manicure / pedicure, which doesn’t take more than half an hour and asks for the appointment to be after an hour; meanwhile she hops into the ladies room and exits with a different abaya on. Next thing you know she’s out the door and into another car with a different guy! There’s a lot that can happen in an hour away! Then she’s back again for the manicure and pedicure, a quick change and the dutiful husband is found waiting outside for her. Back home he says to her, “honey the trip to the spa really did wonders for you! You look amazing, glowing!” - unaware of the sexy romp that really made her cheeks glow!

A Bhopa woman of the Thar desert

(Picture found @ http://www.flickr.com/photos/54236819@N00/154047667/)

Reminisce

I remember...

The dingy daylight as I awoke,
The stench of the flowers as I passed by,
The shrill, horrid screams of the children as they laughed happily,
The ominous tune of the love song which played on the radio,
The sinister smiles of the people who passed by and
The hideous glow of the setting sun

on the day that you ripped open my chest and switched off my heart.

Lost Mystics

In response to some earlier comments on the post Just Peachy in which I quoted a couplet by Ghalib Mirza, some readers of this blog spoke about Rumi. I realise in the past couple of years there’s been a sudden rise in interest in Sufism and sufi poetry but to a large degree, the focus has been on Rumi, and while I absolutely love indulging in Rumi readings, I think we lose a lot when we fail to discover the other mystics who may have come before or after Rumi but since most of their works have not been mass-translated, they are often forgotten. So this is for the lost mystics! And I couldn’t resist in including a bit of Rumi in there too.



"It has long been known in this ancient abode that without bitterness, life can never become sweet. For nine long months the child must drink blood in its mother's womb; and how many tortures must the ruby endure, imprisoned in rock, before the sun finally illuminates its gorgeous hue!"

Moulana Nurruddin AbdurRahman Jami



O bird of the morning, learn love from the moth
Because it burnt, lost its life, and found no voice.
These pretenders are ignorantly in search of Him,
Because he who obtained knowledge has not returned.

Muslih'uddin Sa'di al-Shirazi



Don't speak of your suffering -- He is speaking.
Don't look for Him everywhere -- He's looking for you.
An ant's foot touches a leaf, He senses it;
A pebble shifts in a streambed, He knows it.
If there's a worm hidden deep in a rock,
He'll know its body, tinier than an atom,
The sound of its praise, its secret ecstasy --
All this He knows by divine knowing.
He has given the tiniest worm its food;
He has opened to you the Way of the Holy Ones.

Sana'i



Until you become an unbeliever in your own self,
you cannot become a believer in God.

Abu-Sa'id Ab'il-Khayr - 'Nobody, Son of Nobody'



O my Lord,the stars glitterand the eyes of men are closed.
Kings have locked their doorsand each lover is alone with his love.
Here, I am alone with you.

Rab’ia Al Addawiya



I have a thousand brilliant lies
For the question:
How are you?
I have a thousand brilliant lies
For the question:
What is God?
If you think that the Truth can be known
From words,
If you think that the Sun and the Ocean
Can pass through that tiny opening
Called the mouth,
O someone should start laughing!
Someone should start wildly Laughing –Now!

Hafez



"For your sake, I hurry over land and water:
For your sake, I cross the desert and split the mountain in two,
And turn my face from all things,
Until the time I reach the place
Where I am alone with You."

Al Hallaj




Miserable is a heart that has no beloved.
It is difficult to be without a friend or a beloved.
These few moments which you can never find again,
If you have a heart,
do not be without a beloved.

Nizami


In love, ask for madness,
A life abandoned and a mind lost,
Ask for dangerous adventures
In deserts filled with blood and fire!

Mevlana Jallaluddin Mohammed Rumi

Number 1 in the 5 Series

The memory of yesterday

The sound pierced the darkness, shattering the silence of the night. She woke, heart racing, head pounding. It was the fourth time this week. Sleep broken by her own shrieks. She groped around her bedside table with one hand, searching for the glass of water she had placed there before going to bed, and with the other, she reached for the pills. She didn't want the invasive light on, the blackness somehow felt calming. Sip by sip, her pulse normalised, all the while her eyes flickering from side to side, as she rummaged through the images in her mind. Nothing seemed to make sense, so many muddled pictures but the puzzle pieces weren't connecting. Shards from a life long forgotten. Semblances of the past. It seems wherever she goes, there's no escape.

Laying in the dark, but now far too pre-occupied to fall asleep again. Anisa sits and lets the event of the nightmare play over in her mind. Everything is confused, the reality of what happened distorted by time and dream. She thought she was over it by now, that after everything she had done, leaving that place and every one involved that she could move on. But it seems her mind had other intentions. Anisa sits up, and turns on the bedside lamp and pads barefoot to the bathroom. She splashes some cold water onto her face and stares at herself. Her eyes, rimmed red of the tears, the weariness showing clearly in the reflection. She knows now, that no matter how she ran, eventually the past catches up with you.

How did he know she was here? Maybe the whole 'urban legend' about, sperm cells fitted with micro-sized trackers was actually true. But how did he know she would fall pregnant from just one encounter? Her stomach lurched as she relived the most amazing sexual encounter of her life. It had occurred three months before, at the top of a cliff with the waves crashing violently below, as the sheets of falling rain left them drenched. The past three months has taught her two things; firstly, that when we 'mess' up, our parents are not as upset with us, as they are about the fact that the future which they envisaged for themselves regarding us, is no longer possible. Secondly, that when we love, we can do it only for our own sake, because the feelings of the one we love are as far beyond our control, as the ability of the US forces in Afghanistan to find Osama.

As if she called him to her side, there's a knock at the door, heart racing, she knows. She opens the door expectantly, and is not surprised to see him there. Self consciously she moves towards the window on the other side of the room, not understanding why she needs space between them. He grabs her waist, and kisses her in the nape of her neck. With that one touch, she knows that everything that's happened in the past pales into significance. And that is her last coherent thought as she the myriad of lights explode within her.

With her hopes high, she watches him expectantly, thinking he has finally come home, but the look in his eyes shows the steely willpower that she doesn't want to see. She looks at him and realizes that she is nothing more than a body to satisfy…

The loneliness that he feels, draws him like a magnet to her. Fleeting moments of physical intimacy are what keeps him coming back. But Anisa needs more than just that. The nightmares keep coming back, wrenching her from sleep like a baby being wrenched from a womb. In her moments of solitude, the encounters of the past 3 months, keep her warm, safe and loved. But the reality of seeing him there, the look in his eyes, makes her feel anything but safe. Has he found out the secret that she harbours within? Can he read her soul? Does he know that as he comes and goes...she too has moved on...juggling physical pleasure from him and intellectual stimulation from her husband. Has her past and present caught up with her? The front door opens...'Honey, I'm home'....

Fashion conscious solidarity

(Source unknown, Photo found online)


Having previously discussed my love of finding that people really do care about the world, allow me to narrate a tragic discovery on my part...

Walking around a few months ago, I was so impressed to see everyone in Palestinian scarves. WOW! The world had stood up and taken notice... or had they? Later that week as I walked into a fashion store it all fell in to place. There wasn't a sudden, mass consciousness on the Middle East crisis, the Khimaar had somehow been transformed into a high fashion item.

So as the season changes and the new high fashion rushes in and replaces the old. The Khimaar, which is a representation of the living dream of millions to return to their rightful homes, will be shoved into the back of the closet, along with skinny jeans and houndstooth jackets. And in the event that someone actually does wear their Khimaar in solidarity after the season has passed, it'll just look like they're old fashioned.

Surreptitious Yo- Yo

The longing grows
The craving swells
The yearning intensifies
Deceptive!
Charming fantasy
The desire grows
The numb feeling
Frozen!

The yo-yo goes up
Then plummets

Collapses like a deck of cards.
Alongside a broken soul
The core has fallen
The soul has died
The spirit has lost its sparkle
Still the sensations grow!

Genetic Job Interview

This has to go down as one of the worst first dates in history (first and last). NASTIEST SHIT!
One thing I’ve learnt is that people can be very deceptive over the phone. (If you awful in bed you great at phone sex). Conversation was OK and he was actually quite witty in a bizarre sort of way. Anyway, we organised a date- a Sunday afternoon, in a very very public place. He picks me up half an hour late, apologises with some lame ass excuse but the freak manages to find time to stop and buy the Sunday times (with the extra). The date’s going well until he asks: do you mind if I take the paper up? What the fuck!!!! Does it look like we married? Freak!!!!! I overlook- I’ve attended my best friends “stop being so fussy” boot camp so I force my self not to be so petty. Everything goes well until he starts the interview:
1. What is your surname? Seems like a natural question, until “well shame poor you, I guess you are not a Sayed…. if you marry me you can be one…. do you know what it means to be a Sayed?” WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!
2. You built very nice, not too thin; you will definitely bear me ten healthy children.
(Yes why am I still sitting down, purely for entertainment).
3. Did your grandparents die of cancer or heart disease? The bitch that I am, I answered, both, and added diabetes just for the hell of it. Oh how could I forget, I couldn’t resist adding- “I don’t really get to build any relationships with my family because they all keep dropping like flies”. This didn’t impress him, “shame our poor children”.
4. Mr Job interview: “I’m thinking of buying a new car”
Me: The one you driving is fine.
Mr Job interview: wow!!! You passed the test
Me: What test?
Mr Job interview: I was testing you, if you said yes I would never go out with you again.
Me: (thinking to my self – WANKER!!!!).
5. Would you live with your in laws?
My answer: NO! I love walking around the house naked in the mornings, don’t think your mum will be too impressed.
6. Will you work after you get married…. its not good for a girl to work after she is married. All strange horny men that you work with will keep hitting on you- (Yummy, I wana get married just to meet these so-called horny men at work).
7. Will you wear scarf after you married…. you know it’s the right thing to do. If you do not, the marriage falls apart and because you are marrying a Sayed, it is your duty!!
8. Will you cook for your husband…. this way you build a loving, caring relationship. He will respect you if he comes home and there is food on the table. This holds the family together, and you get a hundred million thousand gadillion sawwaab for it. (Was tempted to ask if he attended New Town Madressah?)
9. My mummy makes breakfast, lunch, and supper for me. (She calls to ask, MARO POIRO AAJHE HOO KHAVANOO?
10. How often will you visit your parents…. twice a week is overdoing it. You now live with your husband and this is your new life. Your mother will poison your mind. (ARE YOU FOR REAL?)
11. Will you want to go out with your friends once you get married? You have to learn to grow up and let go of ALL your friends. This is your new life now. Friends will hit on me. (Yea-right FREAK).
12. For our honeymoon I would like to go for Hajj. Imagine consummating my child there… the blessings. AAHHH!
13. Do you speak Gujarati? My mother takes offence if you talk to her in English and prays everyday that her son marries a girl that will teach her grandchildren the language.

At this point I throw my boot camp training out the window, send an SMS under the table to my best friend, SOS!!! She calls acting like my mum. “Where the hell are you, get home now”.
Fake ASS worried look on his face: PRICELESS!!!
Entertainment: PRICELESS!!!
Explaining to him why I will not go out on a second date with him: PRICELESS!!!

Allergic Wolf Arrested for Blowing House Down!

A couple of years ago I adopted a few human pets. One of them was addicted to story telling and would nag me to come up with new stories each time. The little gremlin wasn’t interested in the usual fairytales and so I was forced to use my decrepit imagination to keep the mongrels entertained. Mind you, they were old enough to make up their own damn stories! Funny thing was it took me forever to get to the “happily ever after” part. Maybe I’m all dark n twisty inside but the whole handsome prince saving the virginal princess from doom doesn’t quite do it for me! Recalling this silly time got me wondering if I’m alone in the gloomy apparition of the future. I keep hearing myself telling friends who are troubled by incidents in their lives that it all works out in the end and while I firmly believe that, I just don’t think the way it all works out in the end is the way we imagine it to! I’ve seen way too many princesses kissing frogs and going home to Shreks and sweet princes marrying wicked witches. All the while, you’ll find me clicking my ruby heels and muttering “there’s no place like home” – even if I haven’t quite figured out where home is!!!!

Al Asma'-Ul-Husna

(Source of Picture unknown - found online)


Sura 17 verse 110

Say: "Call upon Allah, or call upon Rahman: by whatever name ye call upon Him, (it is well): for to Him belong the Most Beautiful Names.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L_Zt7TDNICI


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vFh6gXmWdIo

Faithless

Last night I was invited to an intimate dinner by my Italian friend, who incidentally is marrying a Brit whom she met here. She and I started out as work acquaintances but since she’s quit her job, we’re finding more time for friendship. It really was a multicultural evening, cos she invited a few other people, none of whom I’d met before. There was a Greek, a couple of more Brits, a Canadian, a Norwegian and a Trinidadian, all of whose bits of their lives that they cared to share with us over dinner made for rather interesting conversation.

I was a tad bit late in getting to Gabriella’s place (couldn’t decide what to wear), but thankfully I wasn’t the last to arrive – the Greek and Norwegian were, they were probably getting all romantic in the moonlight on the way, seeing as they just got engaged. As I walked the room introducing myself to the other guests, Gabriella’s partner, Nigel offered me a drink, and then suddenly backed up and said “oh oh orange juice ok or water or soda” (in his annoying pommy accent). I guessed that Gabriella had told him that I’m Muslim and would not take any alcohol. But it just gets on my nerves (and it’s not the first time I’ve met such a person) when they make a fuss and an issue about it.

The worst experience in that department was when an Arab guy came to me as I was leaving a dinner reception, saying “I’m so sorry you didn’t enjoy the evening”. I was quite surprised at the remark since I had a lovely time, but then he finished his sentence with “seeing as you didn’t have any wine” urgh! And then there was the time when I got nauseatingly ill on a flight when the jerk next to me wouldn’t stop with the red wine! And worse still, trying to chat me up, breathing that smell onto me….. I think I got a hangover that day. At least the cabin crew were sympathetic, although they had no where to move me to.

Anyway back to the story of last night’s dinner. Somehow my muslimness intrigues people. I don’t think it’s just in the aftermath of 9/11, because I used to get the odd questions even before. I wonder if it’s because I don’t always fit the picture that they form in their minds of what Muslims, especially Muslim women should look like. I used to take it as a challenge to attract people to Islam, get them more interested and maybe even offer to send them some literature. These days it just gets frustrating. I am baffled at the ignorance of people and I sometimes wonder if I sound as stupid when I’m asking them questions about aspects of their lives. I am far from the ideal Muslim woman (and am definitely judged at home in the community for going against the grain) but these people thought I must be a Mullah or something! They were like: “wow, you’re so staunch and dedicated. You fast? You’ve done the pilgrimage? Wow you really are strict. Are all Muslims like this where u come from?” In addressing some of their curiosity, I spoke about the relationship I personally have with AL Mu’Min – The Inspirer of Faith. I was unaware that there was a “faithless” one amongst us until Gabriella nudged me under the table. This person proclaimed their atheism but before we could delve into healthy debate on the subject, Nigel took Gabriella’s cue and carefully shifted the conversation away from religious (or non religious) beliefs to cars and petrol prices and inflation.

I suppose people are always sensitive about their faith (or lack thereof) and it is a very personal choice but try as I might, I just don’t get the whole atheism thing! I can understand agnostics, cos I also find myself from time to time questioning religion and God. I have respect for all other religions because in essence they acknowledge and respect the existence of a higher power. I even get the “devil-worshipping” Yazidis and their ideas of Malik Taus having passed the test of not bowing to anyone besides God. And then a strange thought occurred to me…. which when I shared with a friend of mine, she rolled her eyes and cackled at my “insanity” because that’s the only thing that could explain the crazy workings of my mind! (Read on to find out what the freaky thought was). It dawned on me that atheists are really insecure people who are so afraid to admit that they are not completely in control of their own lives. They’re always trying to explain miracles as “science”. But when something distresses them or they hear bad news, how quickly the words “Oh My God!” are uttered from their lips!

It’s so sad because they cheat themselves of the beauty of finding a Constant Companion, who is inside of you, and hears your every thought and feels every emotion of yours, who is your soul, and your Creator. How can they appreciate the softness of the rain, or the coolness of a breeze, or a starry sky, or the crashing of the waves? I can’t imagine a world without Al Musawwir – The Shaper of Beauty. My prayer is in my wonder and amazement at Al Khaliq’s – The Creator’s creation – in my breath, in my sleep, in watching the sunrise, or the sunset, in curiously following the little ants that I share my abode with, in the shifting of the sands outside my door, in the wafting of the clouds, and the song of the birds, in the cosmos, and beyond…. SubHanAllah! We are within it all, and yet there are people who fail to realise this!

Sura 2 verse 164
Behold! in the creation of the heavens and the earth; in the alternation of the night and the day; in the sailing of the ships through the ocean for the profit of mankind; in the rain which Allah Sends down from the skies, and the life which He gives therewith to an earth that is dead; in the beasts of all kinds that He scatters through the earth; in the change of the winds, and the clouds which they Trail like their slaves between the sky and the earth;- (Here) indeed are Signs for a people that are wise.



What was the thought that occurred to me that was so strange?


In all of his arrogance, in his refusal to follow the command, in his commitment to turn others astray – in all his evil – even the Devil himself believes in God!

Just Peachy

If you're awake really late and severely lacking sleep it can go only two ways? It either makes for an amazing conversation or all your ability to converse intelligently, rapidly deteriorates until you're left giggling at random junk.

Luckily for me, last week at an impromptu midweek stay awake the former happened. So as the clock struck 2:30 am, a friend was kind enough to recite some couplets by Ghalib Mirza who is one of the most renowned eastern poets. Once you've heard his graphically, lyrical style it is'nt difficult to understand why he is so famous. One really cannot help but be taken prisoner by his words...

“So that God is not loved for honey and wine take heaven and cast it into hell.”

Lessons from the desert

(Souce of artwork unknown, found online)

It is evident from yesterday's blogging that a mood change is in order, so here goes...

1.Life is ever changing, like the sand dunes
2.You'll be forced to trust your instinct, even the North Star is only visible @ night
3.You are part of the greater universe, the sun rises and sets in the desert as well
4.Like oasis', the most essential things in life are scarce
5.There is never complete silence, even the dunes make sounds in the wind
6.You are never alone, God is in the desert as well
7.People can adapt to any situation, every desert has its indigenous peoples
8.Quiet doesn't mean safe, even the desert has predators and poisonous snakes
9.Emptiness has its beauty, even the dunes make amazing patterns
10.Just because you cannot see it, doesn't mean it does not exist, the desert also has its own ecosystem
11.There is always hope, rain falls even in the desert

Pebble Beach

ha ha ha ha insecurities ha ha laugh my ass off!!!!

A Rajastani Woman

source unknown, found online

Dedication to Crimson Shimmer

To the one who thinks that I "closely strike the character of a man over a woman" allow me to let the words of the Women's poet speak for me, as I feel I have said enough:

A Letter from a Stupid Woman

(A Letter to a Man)

(1)

My dear Master,
This is a letter from a stupid woman
Has a stupid woman before me, written to you?
My name? Lets put names aside
Rania, or Zaynab
or Hind or Hayfa
The silliest thing we carry, my Master - are names

(2)

My Master:
I am frightened to tell you my thoughts
I am frightened - if I did -
that the heavens would burn
For your East, my dear Master,
confiscate blue letters
confiscate dreams from the treasure chests of women
Practices suppression, upon the emotions of women
It uses knives...
and cleavers...
to speak to women
and butchers spring and passions
and black plaits
And your East, dear Master,
Manufactures the delicate crown of the East
from the skulls of women

(3)

Don't criticize me, Master
If my writing is poor
For I write and the sword is behind my door
And beyond the room is the sound of wind and howling dogs
My master!
'Antar al Abys is behind my door!
He will butcher me
If he saw my letter
He will cut my head off
If I spoke of my torture
He will cut my head off
If he saw the sheerness of my clothes
For your East, my dear Master,
Surrounds women with spears
And your East, my dear Master
elects the men to become Prophets,
and buries the women in the dust.

(4)

Don't become annoyed!
My dear Master, from these lines
Don't become annoyed!
If I smash the complaints blocked for centuries
If I unsealed my consciousness
If I ran away...
From the domes of the Harem in the castles
If I rebelled, against my death...
against my grave, against my roots...
and the giant slaughter house....

Don't become annoyed, my dear Master,
If I revealed to you my feelings
For the Eastern man
Is not concerned with poetry or feelings
The Eastern man - and forgive my insolence - does not understand women
but over the sheets.

(5)

I am sorry my master -If I have insolently attacked the kingdom of Men
for the great literature of course -
is the literature of men
And love has always been
the allotment of men...
And sex has always been
a drug sold to men

A senile fairytale, the freedom of women in our countries
For there is no freedom
Other than, the freedom of men...

My Master
Say all you wish of me. It does not matter to me:
Shallow.. Stupid.. Crazy.. Simple minded.
It does not concern me anymore..
For whoever writes about her concerns...
in the logic of Men is called
a stupid woman
and didn't I tell you in the beginning
that I am a stupid woman?

Nizar Qabbani

Translated by: Diaa Hadid

Camp Fire

The Test Match

Lately I was introduced to this comedian, Chris Rock. He's really rude and swears a lot but very intelligent both politically because he has a very real view of American politics and foreign policy and about life in general.

Chris Rock says that women often blame themselves when men cheat. He went on to say that women think that if they were hotter or thinner or younger or did something differently men wouldn't cheat. According to him this view is total BULLSHIT! He says men will cheat anyway, its just how the world rotates.

Muslim guys as usual take it to the next level. We all know you're allowed four wives, it happens once you're married and its called polygamy. However when you're still dating (which you as a muslim shouldn't be doing anyway) and you're seeing more than one person at a time it's called CHEATING! Sadly for you there is no “test run” system in place !

A Young Tuareg Women

source unknown, found online

Courage and sacrifice

Body Conscious Solidarity

According to a UN Security Council meeting in 2002 there were 40 million starving people in the world and at least 14.5 million of these were in southern Africa. Now keep that in mind while I continue...

To begin with I must confess that I'm a total sucker for solidarity. I love it when people are concerned with current issues and when they actually care about the world around them. It makes me feel good but more importantly it makes me feel like part of the global “brotherhood”. (brotherhood here is used to denote 'family')

Some time back I was watching this documentary on eating disorders and it left me cold. It was tracking the rehabilitation journeys of a group of people with eating disorders. Grown women taking 3 hours to eat a dessert spoon of rice (that's kak embarrassing!) and because fast food has become a normal part of our eating regime, as part of the rehabilitation program they take these women out to fast food places once a week. Now you'll have to forgive me for laughing but the patients read out the menus and cry!!! What the FUCK???

Then I started giving it some thought and maybe I was being insensitive. Maybe its not as tragic as I assumed. Maybe its this inherent sense of sisterhood with the rest of the continent. Solidarity at its best ?

So the next time you're out walking in public and you see the size zeros, don't pity them because they will never know the sheer orgasmic thrill of pure Swiss chocolate or the comforting embrace of warm Italian crusty bread and butter, but rather be proud of them because they have decided to do what we cannot. They stand in solidarity with the 14.5 million people in Africa on the brink of starvation... Solidarity of body!

One in 6,9

What is up with South Africans? Im always shocked by their apathy. In a country where a woman is killed by a man she is intimately related to every 6 hours and 1 in 9 women are raped, can the people really afford to keep quiet? If rape was an Olympic sport maybe South Africa would be getting somewhere. It would also be the only Olympic team in the world that has a deputy president on it.

In search of an Arabian Knight

This weekend was spent up in the mountains in Beirut. My friend Dana’s sister, Zaina is to be married soon after Ramadaan and Dana wanted to surprise her with a hafla (party). Dana and I flew down from London on Wednesday night and I returned to London this morning (yes I still had time to blog while I was there). It was a bit of a sad departure because I won’t be able to attend the wedding, and Dana will not be returning to London. We’ve been working together for about 2 years and have become as close as sisters. Her going home to Beirut made me think that perhaps its time for me to go back to my home. Let’s leave that discussion for another time.

Beirut was bustling, full of energy. We decided to have the party on Friday night up in the mountains, where Dana’s dad has a summer house. Zaina is 22 and quite excited about her upcoming marriage. Her fiancé has just qualified as a doctor and he’ll be working in Jeddah. Dana and Zaina’s parents thought that moving to a strange city, while being newly married might be difficult for Zaina, and suggested that Dana find a job in Jeddah and move there with her sister. Dana’s uncle, Jad and his family have been living in Jeddah for more than ten years, so there was a level of comfort that the girls wouldn’t be totally alone and would have their cousins as company. Hala, Jad’s daughter, is a 28 year old divorcee, about the same age as Dana, and also working in the banking sector. She had so many stories to tell, preparing the girls for their new home.

By Saturday night, we had cleared up and most of the guests had gone back to the city but a few of us girls decided to spend one more night in the mountains. In an eerie cloud of shisha smoke, Hala started to tell some horror stories. Not the ones that have ghosts in them, but some of the stranger tales that she’d heard of while in Saudi Arabia. The one that scared Dana the most was the daunting report about spinsterhood (yes they actually still use that term!). In Beirut and in London it’s not really an issue being 30 and not married or that her younger sister is marrying before her. But the khalijis (gulf arabs) seem to see the world in a whole different light.

Hala told the story of her friend Asma who is caught in a strange world between spinsterhood and a husband who wants her to “rot” in her father’s home. Asma was fast reaching 30 when her parents started to worry about her not having settled down. They were insistent that she be married within the tribe and her father, in desperation and to avoid having the family blemished by a spinster, accepted an offer from a man who was already married. In the Gulf, marriage has three stages: 1. the Nikah, or contract for marriage, which often happens at the time of engagement; 2. the Milka, a period when the couple can get to know each other, date, since they are legally considered married after the Nikah; 3. Wedding ceremony or celebration, which officially announces the marriage to the community and the couple are then able to cohabit. During the Milka period, Asma realised that this wasn’t the man for her. He was abusive and they had little in common, but with the threat of spinsterhood and her family pressurising her to accept the marriage, she tried to be patient. Bottling up her feelings didn’t last and before long, she retorted in one of their arguments. He called her father and said that due to his work commitments, the marriage would have to be delayed, while telling her that she would “rot” in her father’s home. It’s been three years since that day and Asma is still trapped. Her family, afraid of the even worse social stigma of having a divorcee, have prevented her from applying to the courts to be released from the marriage.

A recent survey showed that 2.6 % of women in Saudi Arabia are “spinsters” and about 2.4% are divorced. Somehow, being a bachelor or a divorced man doesn’t seem to have the same negative impact on the male population.

Zaina’s friend Eman, who’s been living in Dubai for the past 5 years contributed to the discussion and said that there was little difference in the Emirates. Traditions and social pressures have trapped women. She said that it was a regular occurrence to see articles in the newspapers about how spinsterhood and divorce threaten the social structures; and that what was even more upsetting was that women were writing these articles. Most of the time, the high costs of marriage and the exceptionally high dowries were thought to be the reasons for the phenomenon – as the Arab proverb goes: “He married on credit and sold his children to repay it!” It concerned all of us when Eman said that some people think that having academic qualifications contribute to unsuccessful marriages or men being uninterested in the women. There are even statistics that cite illiterates having more successful marriages. What does that imply about society? Did the Prophet (SAW) not say that he who spends of his fortune to educate two daughters or two sisters , paradise will be due to him by the grace of God? Eman heard that men in Kuwait and Qatar seem to prefer to spend money on their flashy cars than on marriage and that they blame women for being too materialistic. Her cousin, who lives in Qatar, told her that there’s a divorce every 27 hours, mostly in the age group of 25-29! (Bear in mind that those include broken engagements), While it is true that in the smaller Gulf countries, citizens have to apply for permission from the government to marry non-locals and often lost some of their rights when they did so, this was not the same for the Emirates but even then very few Emirati girls would even consider marry foreigners. The strangest story was of a matchmaker who wrote in to one of the newspapers saying that her Khaliji male clients prefer to marry foreigners because the Khaliji girls are too dark skinned or fat!

All these stories just depressed us! Most of us in that smoky room that night were in search of the happy ending. Ok so we get that marriage and relationships are challenging, but the world is supposed to be progressing, and most of the time there are such positive stories about young women, especially Muslim women making their mark in the world. Why then are they always saddled with stigmas and branded with labels. Are we expected to dumb down just so that we can be married? Massage a man’s ego and be illiterate just so he can feel a sense of accomplishment? Of course everyone wants companionship in life, but does that have to be at the expense of intellect? Why are we considered to be too fussy or high maintenance if we’ve got a degree? Surely there must be men out there who can rise to the challenge of a woman with a brain! Or will women be forced into unhappy situations like Asma? What happened to the freedom of choice and falling in love?

Poor Zaina! In all of this, she was still trying to be perky about her upcoming marriage. At least she found the man of her dreams, she said. And then she reminded the Arabs in room and enlightened the non-Arabs on the story of the Dahha Dance. In order to ensure that a couple enjoys the freedom of choice when it comes to marriage, the custom with some Bedouin people demands that the bride and groom perform a duel-dance at the feast on the eve of their wedding, each with a sword or dagger in hand. Presumably, the custom entitles either of them to use the weapon to attempt to warn the other of rejection even at this late stage. The proposal would then be rendered null and void yet the engagement presents would be retained. This of course doesn’t often take place but the custom of the Dahha Dance is upheld in some tribes as a symbol of freedom of choice in marriage partners.

May Zaina wear a gown of happiness that is soft and smooth on her wedding day, and may her marriage be filled with love and compassion!

Tuareg Woman (North Africa) - National Geographic

Islam has no VIP section !

I was reading some South African blogs and I came across an interesting, recurring concept. It appears that muslimness is more linked to arabness than any other nationality. I find this rather strange for a few reasons. For one it is not 1400, secondly because the arab monarchy sets the most garish example of what is NOT muslim and lastly because Islam was revealed as a religion unto mankind and not just unto the arabs (or do I need to re-learn the Seerah?).

Of the 1 billion – and still growing number of - muslims worldwide the arab population is only a fraction. Maybe the revelation I should share is that ... All arabs are not muslim *gasp*! Infact Zorastrianism began in the Middle East and Yazidis are from the reigion as well. What I'm trying to say is that every single religion and lack of religion (athiests, humanists) has arab followers.

The other thing that I find amusing is how we treat words written in arabic. Just because something is written in arabic doesn't make it holy. What language do you think they use in arab erotica?

While we on the subject of “ all that is arab...” let me add that the desert and oasis are not only indigenous to the Middle East. Almost every continent from South America to Austrailia has desert land and all of them have equally beautiful women that live in them and oasis' that sustain them. Needless to say, this blog is not a celebration of all arab but rather a celebration of the symbols and lessons of that we may learn from the desert.

Hajar's Lament

Wandering over the rolling hills
The scorching sand under my blistering feet
Sweltering sun beating down on me
Dereliction
In this vast emptiness
Bereft of hope
Mirages beckon me

My tears are the only drops of water
But even tears cannot quench his thirst
He is inconsolable and I, despaired
In this barrenness, left deserted

Where have you gone, my love
Have you forgotten us
Do you not hear my lament and his cries

You have forsaken us
But the One to Whom you are the friend will not

In this stillness there is a silence that sings to me
Whispers of secrets hidden beneath these sands
I fall at his feet
Listening closely to the unheard melodies
Invisible murmurs and gurgles turn to gushing waters of life
I kiss the earth in awe of His Compassion, His Mercy

Spongebob Square Pants

This started out as a little note to all the men out there!
Oh Fuck, How I wish I really could say that ...
but in Reality they don't exist. So I've decided to
do the sisterhood a favour and draw up a list to save
all you ladies out there lots of time and loads of wasted emotion.
So here goes... (the following have been some what inspired by true life events)

18 signs that should convince you he's not the man for you...
(unless you're into vanilla ice-creamed stuffed wafers dipped in chocolate – dark or milk depending on the iron content).

1.He absolutely loves daisies, bouquets, little birds and fairies

2.His favourite movies are: Gone with the Wind (Frank my dear I don't give a damn), My best friends wedding, The Ring 2, Brokeback Mountain, Titanic (I'm king of the bang bang club), Saving Private Ryan (Shaving Ryans Privates),Adventures in Narnia, Cassablanca and Lord of the Rings.

3.He loves going to poetry night (la la la lallaa ode to fucken melancholy my ASS!)

4.He wears more make up than you do (the latest craze is guys wearing base and lip gloss, really what man needs an even toned complexion???)

5.The first thing he does in the morning is look at himself in the mirror (God forbid there's a pimple on his forehead AHHGGGH!!!! (its a catastrophe baby!)

6.He is obsessed with penis size (why don't they just measure in mm and feel gigantic??)

7.He knows the price of a GHD and more importantly he knows it comes in a limited edition PINK

8.He writes EGROTICA (kak erotica) and thinks he's the worlds best poet (like HULLLOOO have you seen Gibran, Ghalib and Rumi?)

9.His favourite poems are: Thomas Pringle's, The honeybird and the woodpecker; Roy Campbell's, To a pet cobra and Ruth Muller's, Penguin on a beach (Camps Bay)

10.You save up and buy him an amazing shirt for his birthday and his reply is...My mummy doesn't like red (please use high pitched tone while you're reading this)

11.He never holds the door for you because he might break a nail!

12.His favourite colour is cerise pink with a hint of glitter

13.He wears white jockeys (or as i prefer to call them WOCKEYS!!!) as the theme song goes WOCKEY WILD WILD WEST!

14.He keeps comparing you to his ex girlfriends or boyfriends or both ( if your ex treated you kak you probably gave her good reason to, why the fuck do I have to deal with the baggage? I'm not a porter !)

15.He has more issues than the YOU and HUISGENOOT put together and you somettimes have the urge to blurt out “baby is it PMS ?”

16.He's convinced the world is against him and that the universe is out to get him as well (I wish the man on the moon would stop by and Smack em like a BITCH!!)

17.He eats less than you do and because he's watching his calories, he orders low fat cappa-fucken-ccino

18.He pouts like Kate Moss and what's worse is that he has the cherry flavoured lipgloss to match

So ladies if the above criteria remind you of your Spongebob then chances are that Patrick the starfish is waiting in bed for him. As for me If I wanted all of the above I would just fucken be lesbian! (yes i've used the “L” word)

Final advice ladies... RUN FOR THE HILLS!!! (and not because they're alive with the sound of music)

Show me ur muslimness....

So... its the biggest conundrum for the “modern” muslim, the question worth millions...
How muslim am I?
Am I muslim at all?
Who's asking?
Who's measuring?

What's the unit muslimness is measured in? Like electricity is measured in watts and distance is measured in kilometers. So what will it be? One friend offers “sawaab” as the unit of choice and another picks, the surface area of a womens body she covers measured in centimeters squared as the preferred unit.

I'm thinking something more along the lines of the OVIA -and no, this is NOT an ode to our rapid reproduction rate as a collective ummah- (outwardly visible islamic actions). The prophetic tradition lays out a holistic lifestyle choice that makes every self-help concept ever look like a pathetic attempt at remaking a classic movie. The only leader, to lead on religious, military and political fronts. His tradition gives us a beautiful example of life as it should be lived. So why is it that we aim first for the sunnah of appearance? By this I mean the visible ones like style of dress and facial hair.

Surely the more important acts to emulate are those sunnah of the heart, like justice, respect for all people, regardless of their race or gender, kindness and most importantly love.

What's for lunch?

I’m really trying to eat healthily these days and I always thought that salad was the way to go! But now that women (governed by Al Qaeda in Iraq) are banned from buying cucumbers and tomatoes I wonder what I could munch on instead. Protein diet is also out of the question since the goats are going into hijab for being too enticing with their udders! Oh well! I guess that means no dieting! Bring on the ice cream!!!!!! No ice cream allowed either? Seriously? Ok so it wasn’t invented during the Prophet’s time…. Hmmm but but but …. Hey neither were kalishnikovs!
Seriously! What do they think these women are doing with the cucumbers and tomatoes?

Wife: Habibi, lets go somewhere special for dinner tonight, somewhere romantic.
Husband: No habibti, I’m not in the mood. I have infidels to attack tomorrow and I just have too much on my mind.
Wife: You never pay attention to me anymore! You don’t fulfil my needs! I’m going to the souq to do some shopping! We need tomatoes and cucumbers.
Husband: ok hayati, enjoy yourself, I’m going to tend to the goats in the pen while you’re away.

There’s a global food shortage and they think the women are gonna rig the cucumbers with the leftover dynamite just to have a blast (my demon was tempted to use another word for blast but I gave him a look that would freeze any goats milk)!

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/middleeast/iraq/2538545/Al-Qaeda-in-Iraq-alienated-by-cucumber-laws-and-brutality.html

To blog or not to blog

It is said that every invention arises out of a need. I was always a little baffled about blogging and its purpose. I’m still a bit apprehensive (while being nudged along by friends) but I kinda figure that this is an answer to every persons need to be heard. Have u ever found yourself out with friends or with work colleagues in a big group and although you have so much to contribute to the conversation, you’re drowned out by loudmouths and instead of raising your voice and making your presence felt, you scurry into a corner and just observe the mayhem in front of you and you feel like you’re standing in the middle of the New York stock exchange! I guess blogging gives everyone that chance to stand at the virtual speakers corner in hyde park, London and have their say (even if some of the passersby think you’re a quack). So here I am giving the schizophrenic demons in my head a chance to wreak havoc on this spot. I’m stunned that they have so much to say!

Longing

I can be without anyone
But I cannot be without u
I hunger for u with an intensity immeasurable
Agonised in the wait for u
I lose myself in sullenness
Without you the loneliness spreads like a cancer through me
Still I wait
Broken and shattered inside
Staring at the shifting sands
I ache for your embrace
Like the wind caressing the grains
Dancing to the tune of the oud
Yearning to breathe you in
Fearing that the last time was the last

Wanting and needing

I sit here listlessly waiting for you

I dream of things and people,

I wish you were here, to show me the reason

I need to go, and you're still not here

Do I spend the rest of my life...

Looking and waiting for you?

FEEL

I strain my ears listening to find
the source of my souls yearning,
a soundtrack to the hope,
the fingers that play the piano of my dreams.
The orchestra is ready, the audience is waiting...
The conductor has left the stage,
his baton lays on the floor,
deserted