Monday, October 26, 2009

Dream State

It was the first time my grandma was going to sit behind the wheels of a 400 horsepower engine equipped with a nitro tank. I questioned my decision but then I looked into her age lined face and I knew it was too late to back out now. The engine roared to life and off we went. She gripped the wheel tightly in her hands as she stared unblinkingly at the road ahead of her. We came to our first major intersection and I held on to my seat as I instructed her on merging techniques. I was starting to breath normally by the time we got to the fifth intersection. This one included a set of train tracks for the local tram. It was a six point intersection with traffic flowing in 12 different directions. I needed her to take the road leading into the tunnel. I explained that she needed to keep her eye on the road she needed and forget all the other roads. It was difficult for even an experienced driver to maneuver this intersection. The light turned green and off she went.

The car careened as she twisted the steering wheel to face the intersection she needed. My soul was left behind as her foot didn't ease off the accelerator. My hand grabbed the steering wheel as I yelled for her to slow down. I twisted it this way and that barely missing cars that were making their way unto the expressway ahead. I looked up in horror as I saw the red unblinking light of traffic jammed cars. I told my grandmother we are going to die. I held her head to my chest as my POV shifted from my body to my soul.

I watched from above my body as the car lost control and collided with the cement piers holding the flyover above the road. I watched as cracks begun to appear. I watched as the first pieces of cement begun to disintegrate and rain down on my car. I watched as I felt my body shutting down its function. My soul felt released and uninhibited.

I was emerging from a pool of water. There was a man standing by a set of clothes and he smiled as he looked at me. I felt more than saw my grandmother emerge from the water. I have been here before. Last time I was sent back. I looked at the broad shouldered man as he patiently waited for me. I opened my mouth to ask if I was dead. He smiled at me again. "Leyla! Leyla," came my mother's voice. She was on the other side of the pool. She looked confused as she beckoned me to the edge. " I am not of the living mama, " I told her. My eyes were swimming in tears as I knew this time I was not going to see her again. My mother shook her head at me. She looked past me to the man at the edge of the pool. Her face crumpled as its dawned on her that I wasn't coming towards her, I was making my way to the man. My heart was gripped in fear and I cried in agony knowing what awaits me. I never looked back to my mother but I heard her pitiful cries and invocations of the Lord's name. The man placed the garment around my body as he once again smiled at me.


I dreamt this last night and awoke with my eyes flush with tears. The image is so vivid that I had to write it down because it is rare that I dream and far more rare that I can remember the details.

A Motivational Dubya?

You ever heard of the series of seminars known as "Get Motivated"? It is geared to people who want to step up their game when it comes to selling themselves/their ideas/their products. Our former President, George W Bush Jr, and his wife are the newest addition to this year's circuit. They are supposedly going to earn over $100,000/hour long speech they give.

What I find interesting is this guy is actually going to promote the myth that you don't have to be competent to accomplish something. He went from being a C student in college, drinking and drug problems, failure at running a bunch of business to being a president for TWO terms of one of the most powerful nation in the world! Lets not forget he left office with a 22% approval rating.

So for all you people who live in the South, be sure to avail yourself to the talk he will give today in Ft Worth Texas. He will be joined on stage by Rudy Guiliani, Colin Powell and Terry Bradshaw. Make sure you carry a thick pad of paper and pen and write dammit. This man is a genius to have duped Americans into voting for him for two successive terms with all the baggage he carries. Either that or just get the name of his publicist.

Image source

Friday, October 23, 2009

Stabbed in the back II

Mahad stood stock still like a mannequin in a store front. His mind was stuck in a rut........What just happened? His gaze fell upon the pieces of the vase scattered on the carpet. It was a reflection of what was happening to his world. He silently walked to the edge of the bed and sat with his head cradled in hands. It couldn't be! She couldn't have found out, could she? Timiro's face kept materializing in front of him and he could almost touch the betrayal etched in her face. The laugh lines that he had learned to look for every time she broke out in a smile were obscured by the harsh and rigid form her face took on.

Suddenly something clicked and Mahad mobilized. He needed his phone, where was it? He looked at his bedside, her bedside, under the bed. Nope not there. He grabbed the home phone and dialed his mobile. He cocked his ear but still no sound. Mahad moved about the room peering this way and that and finally deduced that the phone must be somewhere else in the house. He called it again as he stepped out of the room. There! He could hear it. It was lying by the top of the staircase. As his eyes fell upon the screen, his worst fear was realized. Timiro must have read the text messages.

Next thing Mahad knew, he was flying down the stairs with his towel on. It was as he was yanking the front door open that he realized he had to at least get some clothes on. Bounding back up the stairs Mahad started strategizing. Ok all is not lost, Timiro suspects but she doesn't know everything. Right now she is thinking of the worst case scenario which was far from the truth.......yea yea.....I just need to get to her. Pulling open the drawers, Mahad slipped into his jeans and threw on his UMASS sweatshirt. He grabbed his phone and car keys as he hurried out the house. The car was still out front so she must have either gone with someone else or used public transport. There was only one place Timiro was going to go when she was distraught; her mother's.

Mahad called ahead to the airport and booked the first flight out of London. She couldn't get to her parent's before he talked to her. They have been waiting for this opportunity for months. He needed to hurry. Time was of the essence. It was do or die. This was for all the marbles and he knew this was one wrong he had to fix no matter what it took. Twenty minutes later and still alive, Mahad sprinted through the airport to get onboard the plane. He run through lines, explanations, justifications, excuses, conciliations, you name it Mahad analyzed the situation and the probability of its success. As the pilot announced the descent, Mahad said a silent prayer to God. His life depended on this moment. His actions in the next hour were going to determine the rest of his life. There were countless ways he could screw this up, a single word or phrase would send him to his doom.

Mahad, if you asked people who knew him, was a confident SOB. He was the type of guy who you sent to the negotiating table when you needed miracles to occur. His tongue was sweeter than honey and he understood his power, which made him a force to be reckoned with. But, today he felt like he was walking the last green mile. He mulled over his predicament as the taxi made its way to the train station. His eyes scrolled down the arrival timetable of the trains (on his Iphone) trying to figure out which one Timiro was on. He narrowed it down to two trains with the first one arriving in ten minutes. The taxi pulled up to the train station and Mahad handed the cabbie a note but didn't stick around for the change.

His feet felt heavy with lead as he criss-crossed the mass of people making their way to the exits. Mahad stood on the platform and scanned every head that alighted from the train. He was a foot taller than most people so this was an easy task, what wasn't easy was the staccato beat that pounded in his chest. He felt his body tense up and sweat poured out of his pores. Then his stomach dropped as he caught sight of Timiro's head bent in submission as she let herself be carried along by the masses. Mahad took a step forward and before he could make his move, her head rose and her eyes bore into his very soul. His breath caught in his throat as he fought the urge to turn tail and hide in shame. She stood forlorn as people pushed and shoved past her. He stood waiting as his willed his soul to carry his message to her. To tell her that nothing happened. To tell her that he was weak and had succumbed. To tell her that he hadn't betrayed her. He hadn't deserted her. Her sacrifices mattered. Her love mattered. She mattered!

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Stabbed in the back

Timiro lay her head against the glass and stared sightlessly as the landscape zoomed by her. She was on a train heading home to her mother in Manchester. She took a deep breath as she tried to suppress the anguish in her heart. She had been in her own house a few hours ago and now she was homeless and husbandless. Life can be so trifling at times. She closed her eyes as she retraced her morning.

She had awoken to a bright sunny day in London which was a blessing for that time of year. The sun streamed through the window lighting up the room and waking her up. She peered sleepily at her husband who was sick with the flu. He seemed to be slumbering peaceful so Alhamdullilah he must be on the mend. Slowly putting her foot on the ground Timiro run down the list of things she ought to do today. The kids needs to be dropped at school, she needed to pick up some grocery, she had a GP appointment and she also need to go pick up her husband's suits from the cleaners. He was going back to work tomorrow and she knew he would require his power suit.

Timiro bustled around the house for the next couple hours getting the kids ready and when she finally was ready to leave the house she went to check on her hubby. He was still sleeping bless his heart. Timiro moved closer to check his temperature and noticed his phone blinking. She reached down to move it out of the way and place it on the table so as not wake him when something on the screen flashed for attention. It was a text message, no a few text messages. Something told Timiro to open it but she didn't dare. She had moved past that now. She was at a better place when it came to her husband, but still something nagged at her. As she left the room Timiro realized that she still had the phone in her hand.

"Hey baby. I missed you. Call me when you get this message."

"Hey hope you feeling better. I was thinking about you. Call me."

"Hey wondering what you are doing. Can't wait to talk to you"

Her mind reeled with shock as her knees suddenly felt weak. Timiro grasped the banister for support as she reread the messages. Was he cheating on her? Disbelief was quickly followed by anger. How dare he? After all the effort she put forward? How could he do that? Timiro felt sick to her stomach and slowly let her body slide to the ground. Her mind stopped functioning as a wave of pain followed by righteous anger washed over her. It wasn't possible......It just wasn't. What did she do wrong? What was missing in their marriage? Why didn't he talk to her about it?

Questions upon questions flooded her mind but none had an answer. She wanted to wake him and shake the answers out of him when her little girl's voice called for her. Timiro's mind focused on her child's voice as she wiped the angry tears from her eyes. She got up slowly using the banister as support and made it downstairs. She bundled the kids in the car and drove them to school. She called her GP and cancelled her appointment. She came home and grabbed a bag from the closet. She marched upstairs not mindful of any noise she caused. Walking into their bedroom she saw that he was awake. There was no one on the bed. Timiro opened her bag and started throwing things in there. Shirt, skirts, abaya, bras, panties, hijabs, tights, perfumes. It all went in helter skelter. She didn't care if there was order or disorder. Her life was over! Her marriage was over!

She heard the bathroom door open and turned her malicious eyes to her husband. His smile froze on his lips as he took in the scene. Crash! Timiro threw the vase by her bedside across the room at him.

" How could you? This is the thanks I get for marrying you and sticking it out for all these years? Fuck you! I hope she is a disease ridden piece of trash! I hope you die! Don't you come close to me.......I can't stand looking at you!"

Timiro yanked her bag from the floor and proceeded to bulldoze her way out of the room. She grabbed her purse and keys on her way out the door and with tears streaming down her eyes she walked to the nearest train station. She figured she had an hours head start on him before the shock wore off and her husband came looking for her.

She got off at Euston station and proceeded to the ticketing area. She got the earliest train to Manchester. She didn't let her mind catch up with her body till she sat herself in her seat, but now an hour into the journey she couldn't help but recall everything vividly. She wondered if he will come looking or what the kids will say when they come home and found her gone? She slowly let her body heave the anguish out of her as her sobs racked her body. Her insides felt gutted and worse she knew that there was no turning back now. The story had been written and the ink had dried.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Are you a snitch?

If you saw a crime being committed would you tell the authority? Would you tell the authority even if you know the person is of your race/qabil/clan/family? Would you tell the authority even if you know that you are placing your life in danger?

I have heard of so many crimes that happen within our community and there are witnesses who can identify the perps but they keep their mouths shut. This is not a spectacle found only in Somalis but also in the African American, Latino, African, Pakistani, basically most immigrant communities.

I have always wondered why we bundle up the perps and send them somewhere else to evade the authorities. Don't we ever put ourselves in the victim's family shoes? How would you feel if you loved one was hurt and there were plenty of people who saw it but no one came forward. You are left wondering if there is any justice in this world.

We should stop this STOP SNITCHING campaign. Seriously, its our own people we are hurting by protecting these thugs and killers. Trust me you are doing them a disservice by protecting them from the consequences of their crimes. I am sure its really hard to see someone you love being incarcerated especially if you are the tool behind that but please think of the victim's family and SNITCH!

Monday, October 12, 2009

Snow on the ground

Its snowing in October. I am so looking into those school in the Caribbean now.

I have something I have to do but don't want to do. How does one resolve having two minds about something? Xuujo socooto!