Bridge Collapse.

Its been almost 18 hours since the freeway over the Mississippi river collapsed. I had just gotten off work at 6 pm and was making my way towards downtown Minneapolis when it happened. I was on 35W southbound and traffic was bumper to bumper when I decided to get off the East Hennepin Exit. No sooner had my car turned the corner when the first ambulance rushed by me sirens full blast. I found my way to University Ave hoping to cross over the 10th street bridge in a couple hops. Another ambulance rushed by me again this time I noticed it was a suburban ambulance. Traffic was bumper to bumper on University and I was getting antsy. I could almost see the BP sign over the cars but I knew it would be a wait. A firetruck barreled through the traffic wailing away as light flashed. Something was up. People seemed to be running towards the bridge next to the University Exit of 35W. The air was still except for the steady droning of helicopters. What are choppers doing out here? I tried to peer out my window as I snailed along the road. My heart lurched as I looked over the familiar hump that used to be 35W to the right of my car. There was nothing there. People were on their phones and all heading towards the site. I switched my radio to NPR and soon enough the broadcaster announced the collapse of the bridge. I could have been on that bridge if I hadn't gotten off at the exit before it. Reaching for my phone to call anyone, I noticed that none of my calls were going through. The airspace was clogged as another couple ambulances zoomed by me. The news pouring out of the radio was slow as preliminarily no one knew what happened. Pretty soon though the news was everywhere and there was talk of fatalities and about 50 cars being on the bridge at the time of collapse. That stretch of the freeway was under construction for the past month. What did they do to cause the collapse? Was it a terrorism act? Homeland security ruled that it wasn't a terrorist act. I got to my destination and sat in my car for a minute. I tried my cell again just as my sister's call came through. She frantically asked me if I was ok cause she said she saw my car in the river. I told her I was fine, I got off before the bridge. The rest of the evening I got calls from people who knew me and relatives wanting to make sure I was fine. I have to say I was impressed by the efficient way that the disaster was tackled by Minneapolis. Within an hour the police had to turn volunteers away. There were getting support from all corners of the metro from Roseville to St Paul. My sister works at HCMC Emergency Department and I knew it was going to be a rough night for her. 28-29 people were brought to HCMC, 30 to Fairview (closer to the site of the tragedy) and 9 to North Memorial. Most of the injuries seem to be fractures, head injuries, concurrent with a 40-60 ft drop. I am so proud of this city at the moment though I can't say I have much belief in their bridge system. Apparently there is talk that the bridge was deemed unsafe two years ago. I know lots of Somalis in the diaspora know one person or more who live in the Twin Cities, give them a call and make sure they are fine. There are two Somali males in HCMC at the moment who were on the bridge and there are still recovering bodies at site and will probably be doing so for a couple days. Pray for the souls of those who passed. Amin.

Youtube and politics

When the democratic debate was first aired I was off running errands and I missed it. Today, I had a chance to catch a rerun of it. CNN picked a couple dozen youtube questions and posed them to the candidates. It was interesting to note that even with the new format the candidates still dodged the questions with the best of them and used their pre-prepared answers. Yea I am against the war and I have done this and that to forward my agenda. Obaka and Clinton who I thought would wow me bored me with their cookie cutter answers. I am not sure what the youtube questions were supposed to do. Maybe the context of where and by whom the questions were asked was supposed to shake the composed demeanor of the candidates? Alas, the candidates were not shaken they just found a way to talk in circles and still smile balefully at the camera. I was impressed by Edwards and the way he handled himself, he was a pleasant surprise. What about the question asking Clinton how she would handle herself with Arabic and Islamic states that view women as second class citizens. I didn't see any candidate trying to correct that thinking by stating its not an Islamic belief that women are second class. Benazir Bhutto was a Pakistani Prime Minister and a woman at that. The question was posed by a guy in the US army (stationed in Japan). Yea some Arabic states have an inferior view of women but that should be distinguished from Islamic beliefs. Misconceptions that were further reinforced by Clinton answering the question without correcting it. I was positively disgusted. 9/17 I believe is the Republicans chance to answer Youtube questions so if you have something to ask the Republican candidates post your Q's on Youtube. I would definitely like to see questions regarding immigration restrictions and patriotic act among others.

Bang Bang Bang!

Everyone thought I had gone bonkers when I set out for my boss' farm in Wisconsin to go shooting. I had never shot a gun in my life, but for the past year I got interested in the sport. My boss offered to teach me if I wanted. Two weeks ago when I asked him when he was available for my first lesson he raised his eyebrows in surprise. Off course he had just called me an infidel to get a raise out of me, so maybe he was wary of my request. Anyway, Friday I stood on top of grassy knoll with a homemade target in-front of me. He walked me through gun safety till I automatically put the safety on everytime I stopped shotting and never had my finger on the trigger. My first shot was 2 & 1/2 inches from the center of my target. My hand shook as I steadied the .22 against my shoulder. The gunpowder smell wafted off from the opening where the spent shell popped out. My heart was beating frenziedly and my palms felt wet against the rifle butt. The next 14 shots were off the mark as I got more nervous. He reloaded the gun and told me to breath out as I squeezed the trigger. For the next 30 mins he coached me on targeting and as I got better with the home-made target, he moved me up to skeets. After a couple times missing the skeet entirely, he brought out the sig sauer. He walked me through loading the clip and placing my hands around it. He mentioned the fact it had a recoil that might throw me off but till I shot it I didn't realize how strong of a recoil he was talking about. My hand jerked back almost close to my face and my nervousness returned. I went through a couple rounds with the sig but it felt bulky in my tiny hands and I seemed to shoot lower than the target. I went back to the .22 and this time I shot the skeet accurately and my coach praised my good shot. For the next 20 mins we basically traded shots, him with the sig and I with the .22 . I got to say that I can see why people love shooting. It will take me a while to go to another practice trip but I definitely think I will be doing it till I get good at it. Why? I am not planning to be in a safe environment .i.e US after I graduate. Since, Inshallah I will be going back to Africa I want to be able to protect myself if I feel threatened. Idealistically, the situation should never arise but its better to be safe than sorry. I didn't like the feel of the sig but I could see myself with a walther PPK. Happy Shooting.

Shady Business Practices

I have a bug in my bonnet the last couple days and its over shady business practices. I decided I was going to write about my experience with this business as a warning for those who live in the Midwest area. It is a Somali owned travel agency. It is located in downtown Minneapolis around 9th street. My first brush with them was through a cousin of mine. We were catching up about life and I asked him when his wife was coming back to the US. At once he got angry and started about a travel agent he used to get his wife a round trip ticket from US to Kenya and back. On the day of her return flight, she was informed at the airport that there was no booking for her ticket. She had three days to get back before school opens for her children and her vacation time ran out. It was summer and most of the flights were booked solid. My poor cousin was livid to hear that the travel agency had taken payment from him but had not bothered to pay for the return portion of the ticket. Apparently they put a hold on a ticket and print out the itinerary for you. This hold is valid for a couple days I think and you leave thinking that you have everything sorted out. They don't make the payment in time and the ticket gets dropped and they have to scramble to find you another ticket. I sympathized with him because he spent his nights online looking for a return ticket for his wife.


Winter came and I had completely forgotten about my cousin and the travel agency. I got the opportunity to fly to visit my great grandma and grandma. I was so excited. My friend in North Carolina recommended his brother in Rochester. He was doing me a favor and hooking me up with what he thought would be a pleasant experience. I am all for putting money back in our community and making it flourish. I rarely eat at other places other than Arabic/Indian/Somali/Mexican, but I digress. Long story short I got shuffled from Rochester to Al-Amin travel in Minneapolis. I was on my wits end by that time because I had been given an itinerary four diff times. The trip was to be paid for by mom's business. At first they said fine and came by and took a photocopy of the card plus the ID of the business manager. Two days later they call me and say that Northwest don't take third party credit cards for passengers. What? Thats unlikely because I have bought tickets for people before and I never had a problem. So I called Northwest and they confirmed that if they didn't take third party credit cards they would have a hard time with parents shuffling the kids back for Christmas breaks and stuff. I called them back and told them what Northwest said, there was a mumble and then the stubborn somaliness reared its head. Before I lost my temper, I just asked him how much the ticket went up since this whole thing started. From $1600 to $2100. I bit back a curse that was fighting its way up my throat. I told him I would be by to pick up my tickets and would bring cash. Nearly in tears due to frustrations, I called my cousin and while he calmed me down he listened to me. He asked me the agency's name and I told him. I laughed! "Didn't I tell you my experience and here you are doing the same thing." I was confused at first then I remembered his problem last summer. I could have hit my head on the steering wheel. There was nothing to do now, because there ere less weeks left in my vacation and my grand-ma was waiting. I got the cash and went to the agency. Hands akimbo, I asked him to verify every flight of mine right then and there. For the international flight I got paper tickets for departure but not arrival. He explained that on my flight back Kenya Airway will provide the return tickets. I gave him my "I don't take BS and if you screw me over, you wish you had died" look. Leaning over the table and place my fingers on them, I told him I didn't want to have problems on my way back otherwise they will have more than they have bargained for. He got up and went to get me the tickets only to come back to say the printer is broken and can I come back later to pick them up. Do I look like I don't have anything better to do? Can you drop them off at my moms? Sure. I had barely taken two steps outside when my cell rang and my mom was pissed cause I used this travel agency when I could have used hers. I told her I didn't have any control they shuffled me from Rochester to here. She said she ran into the owner and he told her about me and my flight times.

Fast forward now. My brother in law is in the same predicament. I really could care less but its my sister who is suffering. He is supposed to be back from Somalia yesterday but they screwed up his tickets. I called the agency to ask them if there was something they could do. The guy was rude to me purporting that he couldn't divulge any passenger information to me. I wasn't asking for his stupid information. You have him on leash and you seem to be playing games. You are upsetting my sister and in turn in upsets me. If she calls you is there any way you can help her? The same stupid answer. He knew who I was. He knew who I was calling about. Something sparked in my memory. I remembered how my mom found out I was using his travel agency. "You didn't seem to be so concerned about that when you told my mom about my flights last winter.How come the double standard?" He kept silent then told me if I have a problem to call my brother in law. By that time I was seeing red. My sister keeps asking me everyday if there is something I can do. That in it of itself is another drama but all experiences with this agency seem to reinforce the idea that some people are not there to provide a service for their community but rather are there to take advantage of them. I asked around and there are many bad things said about their business practices yet I have never seen a review against them. They have the perfect location to look decent and legit but there is no doubt in my mind that this is a shady operation at best. I am sure if Northwest knew they said that about their business they would have something to say about that. Don't let this happen to you. I have decided when it comes to traveling I am sticking to my online sources.

The End of HP

I finally emerged from under the covers of my copy of Harry Potter yesterday morning. I was wondering when I will be done with the book since I never got any luxury time during the whole weekend. I passed the book to my younger sister and she seems to have burrowed her head deeper than I did in the book. Anyway unlike many Harry Potter fans I read two versions of the Deathly Hallows and I dare say I like the unreleased version. My theory is that it was leaked from the publishers while it was going through its first edit. My proof? Parenthesized notes under certain chapters with the suggestions.

The first edit seems to be more action packed than the book itself. Harry seems to be a rogue and it worked on him and he also displayed human-like qualities like finally letting Ginny into his life instead of playing the noble prat. The order of the Phoenix weren't killed in obscure deaths either but were given the spotlight when their time came and finally Harry was the one who killed Snape (deservedly so). Anyway, I told my friend I would print her a couple pages and if she was interested she can read this book too. The night of the book release I went with her to Barnes and Noble at midnight, her to pick up her reserved copy and I just needed some coffee and an excuse to get out of my house. I couldn't believe the place was that packed. The people who had reserved their books had to get wrist bands and wait for some guy standing on a table with a bull horn to call their number out. The others who didn't reserve books had to wait until the first batch had gotten their books. I drank my coffee bemused at this whole circus knowing I will pick up my reserved copy sometime in the afternoon tomorrow when the rush had died down. Needless to say I met and saw some characters while I waited for my friend to get her book. When #447 was called I sighed with relief and walked toward the exit, my friend clutching her book to her chest like it would run away.

Potter Mania.

I confess I am a POTTER HEAD. July 11th has been marked on my calender for close to a year and sure enough on July 9th I was weighing options on if I should buy my tickets early. I worked during the day and at 5:30pm I was on pins and needles. I picked up my cuzs and a friend as we drove to the IMAX theatre in AppleValley. We got there an hour early and as we approached the entrance I noticed a sign posted "SOLD OUT". My mouth agape, I turned to my friend and admonished her for considering me daft when I suggested to buy tickets on Monday. We drove back towards our regular movie house and got into a show that was pretty much packed with adults rather than kids. The movie was brilliant I tell ya! It started out slow but it got exciting as my butt got numb. Definitely go check it out at your local movie house and bring the kiddies with you if you feel self conscious. Next Saturday the last book comes out. I will Inshallah be posting my version of the last page which is professed to be 300 words long and ending with the word scar. If you are a POTTER HEAD, join me in welcoming the finale the HARRY POTTER by taking the challenge. Write your version of the last page of the HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY GALLOWS, leave a message on my page and I will be thrilled to read it.

4th July

So 4th of July was preplanned for me. I had errands to run in the morning and in the evening I was going to take the kids to Valleyfair. Its sort of a ritual for me because I get to spend some time with them without getting a sore voice. Last year I forewent the ritual because a week later I was taking them to Six Flags. Anywho, the gang and I pack lunch and drinks for the trip. I took my camera cause my cuzs from Sweden were visiting and I wanted to chronicle their time in the US. Since its been a couple years, I didn't have a clear picture of what I would see, but nothing could prepare me for that day. From the ticket booth to inside the park I saw a bunch of loitering somalis. Young boys who did nothing but stare at people entering. They even tried to hustle me by offering me a discount for a bit of money. Next was the amount of young girls walking around in skimpy outfits with guys hanging on their arms. A decade ago when I moved to MN, I went to valleyfair annually. The atmosphere was different then. You saw proper young ladies with their family dressed decently. Now, instead of family it was boyfriends. As I was standing in line with my siblings, I looked across the queue and noticed a group of rowdy somali guys and girls. Next to us were two African American women. They looked at the group then looked at us, then back at the loud talking group. One of them started a sentence, "I thought they were supposed to be dressed **mumble mumble**." She had noticed me looking at her. She smiled at me and turned towards her friend. I could feel my face getting red but I wasn't entirely sure if I was mad at the group of somalis or at the expectation to be the same.

I normally don't care what other do or wear but lately I get irritated at the direction our youth seems to be taking. I have to check my sister's attire as they step out the door. No jeans , no revealing, plunging neckline and no tight clothing. Is decency a lost art or am I old fashioned? Whatever the case, I have gotten into the habit of keeping my siblings away from the "dhocil" generation and I would rather they stay home and keep each other company!

Progression into Depression

Priya stood by the glassy lake and watched her breath cloud up into the air. There was no wind tonight and the moon was non-existent, casting the surroundings in shadows. For a stranger this scene would be foreboding, but for Priya it was comforting. She knelt down by the lake's edge and touched its chilly surface with her fingers. Her eyes followed the ripples as they extended outwards. The circles got bigger and bigger till they disappeared into the blackness of the night. Priya wasn't here by choice, at least not by personal choice. She was here because circumstances mitigated by fate lead her here. It lead her to the scene of the suicide. She recalled the red rimmed eyes and the hiccupy cries. She recalled the hastened footfalls and the whispered nuances. She recalled the cold, soft sheets and the stark walls, but most of all she recalled the heartache and the pain. Priya reached into her back-pack and drew out an object. Her long fingers caressed it as she hummed a tune. It was eerie considering the time of night but Priya knew she was alone. She nimbly stepped into the lake, shocking her body with the cold temperature. The water made its way up her body as she progressed towards the center of the lake. The water lapped at her thighs, then her hands, then her waist and slowly reached her chest. Priya started gasping for air. The cold was slowly seeping into her body and then the tremors begun. She had to be careful. Priya looked around her surroundings. Yes, this was the place. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. She lifted the object unto the surface of the lake and laid it there to float. It was beautiful. Its pristine hue contrasted sharply with the black surface of the lake. This was the day and the place of her death, and Priya's heart grieved once more for her best friend, Sonia. Priya turned around to head for shore and as her feet found the gravel, she turned back to watch the white rose bob in and out of the water.

Comfort Creature

For the past five years I have been looking for shoes that don't make my feet ache. I don't have a cushy job where I sit on my butt all day (no offence). Working in the hospital and in the pharmacy, I tried every kind of shoe to get rid of the discomfort. I even tried Dr. Scholls inserts but they give temporary relief. This cute shoe on the right seems to have great reviews. Apparently with the weird looking coil at the heel it doesn't hurt as much to be on your feet. I wonder how much they cost? There are only three stores that sell it in mn and the closest is on France Ave. So as soon as I can get myself down there and purchase a pair, I will definately let y'all know if my feet have found a match. The shoe is known as Z-coil. Lonesome dreamer made me think about shoes when she discussed scrubs in her blog. Working in the healthfield, I feel I have to be comfortable in order to give proper care. If my scrubs make me feel constricted and my feet hurt, I won't pay much attention to the patients. So, anything that make me comfortable makes my job easier and mood cheerier.

A change is as good as a rest

As you can tell, I finally got around to changing my template. I have gone through three templates in the last two days but finally decided to stick with this one. I am still not completely satisfied with it, particularly the font. Xml with CSS needs a little getting used to, so as I learn you will notice little changes here and there. Speaking of which, expect some changes with Somaliblogs too. Lots of exciting new things in the works. Keep an eye out!

All that glitters is not gold

Semana pasado the G8 summit commenced in Germany. Personally I don't care much for this international body but then again I have much disdain for any international body these days. Not many people know of an initiative implemented by a couple of international bodies;IMF and World Bank. The initiative's goal is to provide debt relief in Heavily In-debt Poor Countries (HIPC) aka reduce poverty to sustainable levels. What exactly is a sustainable level of poverty? A level of poverty that is fine to live with. I am sorry but there is no level of poverty that is fine to live with. The HIPC initiative gives debt relief to countries that meet a certain criteria provided that they implement some social programs that IMF and World Bank think should be priority. In other words a couple big wigs in a developed country sit down and map out what exactly is the problem in the African country they will give debt relief to, then they attach these conditions to the debt relief. Where exactly do they get off telling us they know our problems better than we do? Countries could use the extra money to increase quality of the agricultural products for export thus generating more revenue or how about building factories thereby increase productivity in the country.

Instead most of the programs are geared to be social services to meet the needs of the poor. But what exactly is a school building good for without teachers and books? A new hospital without qualified staff? What good is debt relief if the infrastructure to strengthen the countries' economy is relegated to the back burners? When you walk into a local grocery store and all you see is imported wares and nothing from your country? Africa is like a hamster in a cage, running on a wheel that is ever turning but the scenery never changes. I think its time to step back from the wheel and take a realistic look at our disproportional poverty levels, and come up with an idea that will help Africans and not make them forever beggars of alms from the developed countries. HIPC; a doomed initiative which many say leave African countries more impoverished than before.

NBA finals

Alright , alright! So Pistons didn't make it to the finals. I had a couple gloating phone calls from my friends to rub salt on the wounds last Saturday. I am inclined to blame someone for Pistons failure to live up to their potential and that someone is Flip Saunders. He used to coach Minnesota Timberwolves before his move to Detroit and I got to say I was never impressed with him before nor am I impressed now. During the series against Cavs, this coach seemed to be drawing up a game plan that did not correspond with the opponent he was facing. In game 3 & 4 he never double teamed Lebron even though he was explosive especially in the fourth quater. Let me not even start on how mad I got with the calls Flip made during the double OT.Hughes is not a polished pointguard nor do I understand why he even gets minutes on the court, so Mr Big shot should have been able to capitalize on that match-up but no he had to lose his game somewhere during the series. After watching game 3 & 4 I saw there was no way Pistons were going to the finals and I can see why Rasheed lost his cool when game 6 came around.

The final starts Thursday and the Spurs of course made it after playing dirty against Suns and beating them, then polishing off the Utah Jazz. Cav versus Spurs finals seems to be an either/or game. EITHER Spurs are going to systematically and methodically wear out the Cavs OR the Cavs are going to surprise the country by getting rid of the monopolized NBA championship of the SA spurs. I rather hope for the latter but that could entirely be due to my dislike for the Spurs.

Till next time when I post about the championship!

US's position when it comes to science

The last couple days I have come to a realization that US is lagging behind when it comes to science. I don't necessarily think its due to lack of brain power in the science field, but rather its due to the constraints that the government puts on science. Most of the greatest science minds are moving to the European continent because of its laxity in controlling the science field. Most notably, the stem cell research field. I was watching news today and saw that by implanting a cell in the retina, a man in Britain was able to regain his eyesight (blindness caused by old age). The other news bit that got me thinking about science in the US, was one about a deal between NHS and a drug company. The makers of Velcade (a cancer drug used to treat myeloma) will refund NHS money if their drug does not work on the patient. The drug costs about 18,000 pounds per patient. I think this is a lesson worth learning. In the US 65% of the population do not have health care and more than 65% cannot afford the drugs mainly because drug companies manipulate the market prices to maximize profit.

While I am on the drug companies case, Pfizer is getting sued by the Nigerian government for conducting test on children. The study used a drug called Trovan to treat meningitis in children. Nigerian government reports that come children died due to participation in the study. Pfizer of course denies the accusation. Africa is a dumping ground for expired drugs for these companies and now they have figured out another way to exploit Africans. By giving free drugs they get unassuming candidates for their drug studies. In the developed countries it is hard to test drugs on patients without having the FDA all over the paperwork, but who policies the continent of Africa? Our leaders don't have our interest at heart as long as their pockets are lined. I am sure as soon as some money is spread around this whole suit will dissipate into the thin air.

The Sun is blazing.

As you can tell I am not about to talk about the weather. After tonite the stage will be set for probably the most thrilling games in the playoffs this year. Chicago Bulls swept their series against D. Wade and O'Neal. Pistons and Cavs also swept their series against Orlando Magic and Wizards respectively. The next match-ups are going to be Suns against San Antonio Spurs. I am so excited about this particular series because the last time the Spurs met Suns in the playoffs, the Suns didn't have Mr Amare S. The dominating figure (on the right side of Shawn Marion in the picture) is a presence to contend with. He will rival Tim Duncan under the rims. Steve Nash/Barbosa combo have to face Ginobli/Parker on the offence. This year these two teams seem to be evenly match and that is why this is a non miss series for basketball lovers. Both teams have the ability to attack in the paint area and also perimeter shooting. So far I have taped all the games these playoffs and watched them after work and classes. I am going to be making it a point to be sitting on the couch when these games are on though.

The next matchup I am salivating for is the Bulls-Pistons series. Ben Wallace who won defensive player of the year when he played for the Pistons is now on the opposite team facing the Pistons. Billups has a younger team to contend with but Billups has experience in his favor. Ben Gordon/Nocioni/Deng are quick with the ball and move the ball around just like the Pistons do. After the Pistons won the championship in 2004, many teams in the NBA started preaching about teamwork and being unselfish with the ball. Bulls seem to have taken that mentality to heart. I love both teams but my loyality lies with Pistons, though I will secretly be cheering for Ben Gordon and crew.

Cavs get to play with the winners of the Nets-Raptors series (3-1) and tonite the world gets to know which two teams will square off against each other in Western Conference. Rockets is leading its series against Jazz by a game and so does Warriors against Mavs. I am looking for Warriors to close out the series tonite if they can get their emotion in check and they learn appropriate ball handling. Davis needs to be able to use the clock to his advantage. It was the most dumbest play I saw in the last game. Warriors was up and instead of using the clock to his advantage Davis got a stupid foul and fouled out, giving Nowitzki a chance to find his game during clutch time. Facing elimination, Nowitzki, who has been struggling in this series, discovered a way around the Warriors defense. He was able to shot before the double team shut him out and the last few minutes of the game he was able to make a couple of game changing three pointers. Warriors have a task ahead of them to try to knock out the #1 seed in Western Conference. Harrington, Davis, Jackson, Richardson and Ellis have to find a way to stop the Mavs from leaving Oakland with a W.

I will try to keep the blog updated with more analysis as the finals draw near. It was sad to see AI leave the series but the guy dribbles too darn much. He either needs to shot or pass the ball to Melo. I was happy to see the Laker eliminated and D-Wade too. I have no love for James Posey and Haslem. They both get on my last nerves. Keep watching the NBA playoffs and wear the colors of your teams as you yell on your couch.

Ps:- if Suns make it into the finals, I will try to convince my roomate to get me tickets and instead of her coming to Minnehopeless, I will fly to Arizona just to cheer on the Suns.

News from the world.

Who is on the receiving end of the Isreali community these days? Who else but Ehud Olmert. People are calling for his resignation from office due to his inefficent tactics during the 2006 Lebanon War. Apparently after destroying the infrastructure of Lebanon in a matter of days, the Isrealis are not satisfied with Olmert. He was supposed to annihilate Hezbollah and bring back the two Isreali captives. He didn't do that now did he? Instead he caused a lot of death and destroyed a small country that was just starting to emerge from decades of war. The public polls show that his popularity is on the decline since the Lebanon War. His own deputy is calling for his resignation. Its only been a year since Olmert won the elections and the country seems to be at polar opposites on the issue of re-election. Livni (the deputy) might have her work cut out for her, that is if she doesn't get replaced.



On the US side of the world, I got to be say I am not suprised by the turnout of the immigration demonstration in Los Angeles. LAPD seem to be carving out a reputation for themselves as anti-immigrant. The LAPD attack on the demostrators is another showcase of violence tendacies within the police force. 240 rounds of bullets and no arrest, are you kidding me? The footage itself is disturbing. It reminded me of the days of GSU or FFU as they are better known in Kenya. During the times of unrest, the Kenyan government would let loose these bullies on citizens. They were effective in scaring the S-H-I-T out of you. I bet y'all wondering why I am harping on this. I think it will set a precendant for other police departments to follow suit. I would definately like to see what happens when the Police Commissioner gets a couple names. It probably be a hush thing with a couple scape goats selected. This violence is a tumor that might grow out of control. LA is a beautiful city that is infused with many cultures from around the world not to mention it is the port of entry for most immigrants. If the tumor starts there then there is no hope for the rest of continental US. Watch footage

Now my corner of the world; drugs. FDA asks antidepressants manufactures to broaden their black box warning to include ages 18-24. During the initial months of treatment (antidepressant), there is a notable increase in suicidal thoughts in young adults and children. The companies have been given 30 days to resubmit their package labels. This would practically affect the entire class of antidepressants i.e SSRI (Selective Seratonin Reuptake Inhibitors). Let me put this in perspective, nearly 15 million people in the US take antidepressant each month. Even a fraction of those folks having suicidal thoughts is scary, especially if the trend shows that it affects only the children & young adults (the future generations).

Watching the DunKan and lil dreams coming true.

I am a big sports nerd that has been in hibernation. Last year I had post after post following the NCAA and the NBA but this year nada/zilch/zippo. On Wednesday as I sat down to map out the month ahead, I noted that the NBA playoffs are due to begin on the 21st. Silly rabbit, where has my head been? I had to take action. Most teams had already clinched their positions and that didn't really interest me as much as my teams being above .500

Back to my tale, last night as I watching highlights I made a plea for anyone to get me a ticket to go watch San Antonio Spurs and T Wolves play. Lo and behold my sis calls me this morning as I was sitting outside my espanol class.

Hola?
Eh?
Mi hermana! Como estas?
Nayaa.......I got ticket master on the other line. What seats you want for the game?
Que?
The game.
Spurs vs T Wolves?
Yep.
Any tickets. Is you serious? I was joking noh.
Well do you want them then?
Si! Si! Mucho gracias.

My sis got me and my bro tickets to watch Tim Duncan live. I mean Manu Ginobli was right infront of my eyes and so was Ricky Davis, Tony Parker, Mike James. Only dude missing was KG. I had a blast. I was feeling odd sitting in the arena with my hijab on but after the game started and I went into my fanatic mood, I forgot my discomfort. My lil brother enjoyed it too and if it weren't for his forgetfulness, I would have images of sweat drenched 6 ft men to compliment my tale. Suffice it to say...........Muy caliente!!! Next time, I will try to actually get courtside seats so I can perhaps have the ball hit my face or maybe have one of the players land on my lap ;) (I can dream can't I?)

Oh yes another pleasant dream coming true. A friend of mine is traveling to Japan in a couple weeks. Since its a fantasy of mine to go there, I was green with envy. When I went to Egypt I had bought this friend a necklace made from pure silver as a gift. He felt he has to get me something and being the gentleman that he is, he wanted to make sure he gets me something I want. So, when asked, I said "Kimono please!" (Pause) "What color?" (mulling) "Black/White/Red........nothing whorish" (MmmKay). So there ladies and gents I got a couple of dreams realized in a matter of hours. Summer is here, playoffs are about to begin and life just started looking good.

Ps:- I got the itch for a makeover too, so watch this spot for drastic changes come May. Oh and mom is out of Somalia and in Kenya and IA will be home in a week (I hope).

Image courtesy of Kimonoan.com

Cooks and Kids

For shame. I haven't bothered with this corner of my world for while. I needed to come back and spruce things up a bit. Clean out the cobwebs, dust the shelves and whats more be inviting. I have become a full fledged momma now. I have embraced the fact my children will be my siblings and their kids. I have also embraced the fact that I might not ever get to bear my own children. Pessimistic as it may sound, its what proves to be my cross to bear. I was talking to my cousin brother the other day; see he feels he needs to talk to me to reassure himself that I am within my full mental faculties. He asked me how my children were, and I politely told him to piss off, my children haven't been born. Then we talked some more, in which time he spoke of how I do what most women and half the men can't do. As a final note he told me that the probability of a man to actually take me as a wife and therefore sign his life to bear my burdens would be slim. Por que? you may ask. Simply put my cuz told me I have too much baggage for a man to want to be with me. The nerve! I chided him that perhaps men weren't made as they used to be anymore. Touche!


Anyway, back to my spring cleaning. My mom is somewhere in Somalia at the moment. I fret over her. I am not sure how she is some days. My friends and family call to tell me news from Somalia everyday. Their concern for my mother and her well being is touching but at times I just wish they would keep their news to themselves. I also worry about my nephews living there. I plead with my mom when she calls to find them and return them back to the US but she adamantly refuses, citing that its unsafe for her to go to the enemies camp. With these thoughts in my head I had some extra time on Wednesday afternoon between work and school. All this energy and nowhere to channel them. I tried reading but no go, so I did the next best thing. I walked into the kitchen. I haven't cooked for weeks due to my schedule. I looked in the refrigerator and found some tilapia, coconut milk, tamarind and vegetables. I usually don't have a specific meal planned out, I go with my instincts. I boiled some water & dumped fettuccine in there. I chopped some tomatoes, marinated the tilapia in a sweet/spicy concoction I make and soaked my tamarind. Slowly my meal took shape. I ended up making fettuccine pasta, honey glazed tilapia, grilled potatoes with green/red peppers and raisins, mchuzi wa samaki wa kupaka and coleslaw salad with my own dressing. I spent an hour and half in the kitchen and when I was done I felt accomplished. My children were about to come home from school. I had just enough time to clean the kitchen and lay the table. Then my phone rung, It was one of my kids wanting a ride. I was back to the chaos that is my life and my couple hours as an accomplished chef was a dissipating dream quickly fading.

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How much is too much?

In the midst of all the focus Muslims seem to be getting from the media, an article went by unnoticed. While Muslims in Minnesota argue about scanning pork products and alcohols in taxis a bigger catastrophe looms close and aims to strike right at the very heart of the Muslims ummah worldwide. Two pillars of Islam rest squarely on this site. As Muslims we turn our face towards it five times a day and as Muslims we are obligated to try to go there for pilgrimage at least once in our lifetime (if its within our means). This holy site that dates from Prophet Ibrahim is being desecrated and turned into a commercial zone. This place, where all Muslims stand equal is going to have gated communities and Starbucks a few feet away from the entrance. So, where does that leave us?

I tell you where it leaves us. Its leaves us up a creek with no paddle. A stinging slap to our face. As we battle on other fronts, our very own sticks a dagger into our back. Commercialism at its best, its infiltrated even the most remote and holiest of all cities. Yet, here is the kick in the gut, not a creature stirs within the masses. Its passed unnoticed as we marvel at the march of progress and at the convenience of our guilty pleasures even in Makkah. The price for a piece of this real estate pie starts off at a "modest" $ 3 million. So what you going to do about it?

What do you do when you are uncertain?

I am not sure where to begin. Its been a weird beginning of the year so far. I am uncertain about many things because of the way events have unfolded. First my sister crashed my car. Then, I got in an accident. Then, a friend's car got taken for a joy ride for a couple hours (when we presumed it was stolen), then my mom's cell was lifted from her restraunt while she was standing there, then my newphew got diagnosed with cancer, then one of the relatives I went to visit in Kenya died, then a friend of my mother died in a car crash while going home, then a co-worker's father had to have surgery cause bacteria got into their blood stream from their kidney stones, another friend's father became depressed and ran away from home and finally another friend quit school because she couldn't even afford to eat food anymore.In a span of 3 months, there have been icky news after icky news.

I turned 24 two weeks ago and more than ever I am uncertain. So what do you do when you are uncertain? This thought resonated within me when I heard the man utter it on stage. It was an assigment I had to do for a class but yet I felt I was destined to hear this. He spoke of how a sailor uses the stars to tell where he is, but what if while journeying the clouds cover the stars? Is the sailor on the right path? Did he veer of it or did he imagine the stars in the first place? I was riveted to my seat for the rest of the play waiting to find the answer to the question posed but sadly at the end of the play I was left with more questions. So I ask you, what do you do when you are uncertain?

When in Rome..........

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"Achoo! Achoo!" went I. My eyes were watering and my nose had a tinge of red from all the tissue friction. I looked over to my companion, Hassan. He was my assigned protector in Kenya. Back when I used to attend primary school he used to drive us to and from school amidst taking my mom wherever she wanted. I remembered him thinner than he was but then again I had gained some weight myself since he last saw me. I turned my attention to the window. It was about 5 pm in the evening and I was on my way to Isiolo. This was a town that would best be explained as a frontier between the lands of Somalis and Kenyans. Most of the inhabitants were a mixture of Borana, Somali and Merus. Last time I had being there I was about ten. I remembered being able to count the number of stone built houses on my two hands.

My breath misted on the window as I peered through the glass to gaze at the lush green countryside. My fingers itched as I fought the urge to grab my camera and click away. I had missed this land. My motherland. The smells, the sights, the people. I had missed every iota of it. I was bone tired but in this land I knew rest was just a heartbeat away, rest was in the folds of my grandmother and great aunt. My eyelids slowly dropped shut as fatigue overcame my awe. I awoke with a start when I felt my head on someones chest. I looked sleepily up and saw it was Hassan who had placed my head on his chest instead of the cold, clattering window. I went back to sleep. An hour later he gently placed his hand on my shoulder to wake me. I asked him if we were there yet and he told me we had come into town but wouldn't get off at the bus stop instead we had to get off somewhere else. I gasped. It was pitch dark outside. I had three heavy bags not including my backpack plus Hassan had told me he didn't know the way to great grandma's house. He chuckled at my shock and reassured me that someone will meet us. The bus pulled over after five minutes and I clambered out. It was cold as far as Africa was concerned but it was fine for me. After Hassan had gotten my luggage out, we stood next to each other staring into the darkness waiting for someone to turn up. I noticed Hassan clutching his arms to his chest and offered him my winter coat. He thought it weird but I told him the weather was fine for me since I spend at least three months in snow up in Minnesota anyway. A few minutes later I saw a tall, lanky figure walking purposefully towards us. I held my breath as I watched the figure draw near. 15 ft, 12 ft, 10 ft..................Feeeeeei! I screamed.

Feisal, my uncle laughed loudly at my recognition. He grabbed my bags and motioned us towards a taxi. I asked him a couple questions about his kids and wife, about grandma and great grandma. After that I kept quiet as Hassan and him caught up on the non specifics of life. The taxi screeched to a halt infront of a corrugated sheet posing as a gate. Between the gate and the street lay a two feet ditch. I watched as my bags were hurled across and grew apprehensive. Hiking up my abaya, I was glad about my choice of pants over skirts. I leaped across the ditch and barely made it due to the weight of the backpack on my back. Once across the threshold, I heard my grandma's scolding Feisal about not taking my backpack too. Hands and arms reached out to me as I walked into the house. Tea and food was requested as was water to get cleaned up with. "Ayeyo, choo iko wapi? (where is the toilet?). My grandma peered at me and asked me if I really had to go and I said yep, I have been holding it in for 5 hours. She turns to my great aunt and asks her if she bought parafin for the feynuus. They have a discussion and after a while, my grandma approaches me with a can full of water and a sympathetic look. I HAD TO PEE OUTSIDE because there was no light in the latrine (which was also outside). I giggled and grabbed the can from my grandma and went to relive myself. When I came back my grandma asked me if I was ok. I nodded my head and said, "Ayeyo, nimezaliwa hapa (I was born here)." From that minute on I acted like the everyone else around me, which earned me the nickname survivor.

I love you more.............than you do?

I haven't done what is expected of me i.e tell tales of my adventures in Africa but I will get around to it soon (I promise). I actually wanted to talk about something else today. Recently I was listening to radio and I decided to share my thoughts about it. The conversation was that in order to have a successful relationship, one person (in the relationship) has to have an over-abundance of love.


I was at first puzzled because I thought in an ideal world you would both be 50/50 on the amount of love. As I listened to the callers' opinions though I begun looking back into my relationships and I mean all including sister/friend/exs. A realization occured to me that in each relationship I was the lackey. The one who did the bidding;the slave. Mind boggling thought isn't it. Here I was confident in my ways with my life but when it came to someone else I tended to putty. So here is the challenge I pose to whoever reads. Look back in your relationships and ask yourself is the theory right? If so, who loved more? What are you using as a measuring tool? Do you think that you will keep your "position"?

Ps:- This is not an anti-valentine day post by the way ;) so if you think you can't handle the evaluation till after valentine day, then by all means wait it out. [If you evaluate your love life that is].

Un, Deux, Trois.........

Here I go again. Its not the first time I have been here. The view is still the same. The same blurry lines, the same dull color, the same vernacular sounds. Its surprising that the whole world has advanced forward but this corner of my universe seems stuck. My lips pursue in thought. It really isn't as bad I thought, I console myself. I can handle this. I have been through worse, much worse. I pick up the object in front of me; my youth. Its fading fast. No more bright colors emanating from it, no more joyful giggles and goofy smiles. Time does fly and all I am left with is memories. Refusing to succumb to the self pity that I knew so well, I moved on. Next was my vocation. I picked it up and stared at the awards and congrats from it. Really, is that all I amount to? How about the sweat and blood hours I poured into being perfect at what I do? Does that not count for anything but placards of wood? I threw it across the room, my eyes flashing at the idiocracy my life is. I picked up a withered flower next. I had neglected this flower for a long time. Refusing to water it or even add manure so that it can mature into a beautiful flower that it is. The bees didn't find it particularly alluring and all the seeds in the ovum had given up on being pollinated. It was a sad case and I was the guilty party. I knelt by the flower and frailly touched the petals. This was my love life. The culmination of my world was within these objects scattered around this odd looking room. When I get the urge to make a change in my life, I walk back into the room and perhaps it is there that I find the courage to do what I have to do.

1st leg of journey

Here are some views from my camera. I am learning to use the different styles it has and haven't mastered it yet. I like sepia tone one and there is another style that highlights a certain color. I will add more pics as I take them. Enjoy.



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A midflight proposal

I mulled over where to plug in my computer so I could recharge my ipod but all I could see were sockets that looked destroyed. I was restless and irritable and became more so as people started filling the little waiting area. An hour before the flight was scheduled for take off, I was sitting snugly between two swahili speaking girls and swapping stories. I had also figured out that since I wasn't in the US the plugs in Amsterdam airport had a different look and I had my converter out and my ipod charging. It was fixing to be a nice flight considering it was going to be almost eight hours long. The only scar to the trip was going to be the security officer who tossed my cleanser and moisturizer because it was 18 mls above the limit. Which was ridiculous since the bottle said 118 mls but it was half full. I was pissy as I walked into the plane and ended up knocking into someone with my backpack. I apologized and sat in my seat. There was an empty spot between me and the lady at the window. Finally an aisle seat! I was hoping the middle seat remained vacant but a few minutes later a middle aged man walked up to my seat and started peering at his boarding pass curiously. He was supposed to sit opposite from me but another lady had mistakenly taken his seat. Graciously he said he didn't mind taking the lady's seat if she could point him to the right one. It was the middle seat. Damn it, I thought.





As he settled in his seat, he turned to me and inquired about my well being. We started talking about books, politics, airport security and kenyans. He lived in New Hampshire. His father had died a week ago. He was smart and funny. He spoke about religions. Apparently wearing hijabs is a fashion statement and he inquired to my faith. I pointed to my headscarf in exclamation and his laughter boomed across the plane. I assisted him in operating his movie console and remote, he in turn kept me entertained the whole trip. The lady he switched seats with was as delightful. She was full of wisdom and stories. She was heading home to properly mourn the loss of her first born son. Coincidence? I was going home to visit my great-grandma who was sickly and in fear of death. We discussed death for a while but I decided not to venture too deep into it. I was scared of what would meet me when I got to my great-grandma's bedside. After eating and drinking a couple Heineken, he dozed off leaving me to my ipod and movies. Around breakfast time, I got up to freshen up and nudged him awake because the hostess was coming around with food.


I walked back to my seat to find my food waiting and my drink of diet pepsi fizzing on his table. He smiled coyly at me and says, "I told the hostess my wife needs her breakfast and would be mad if she didn't leave anything." He also points out the diet-pepsi making me gape at his observance to my drinks all night. My admirer was on a full fledged attack now. He spoke of how he never gets along with people under 27 but with me it was relatively easy. He spoke of how he is willing to give up his religion to become a muslim if I gave him a chance. He also spoke of his past which was colorful. I giggled because he wasn't shy about his interest, but he knew he was not getting anywhere. As we got ready to land, he asked if I was staying for a while. I told him nope and wished him a pleasant stay. My trip was over and I had been entertained and I wasn't about to take this man up on his marriage proposal.


Ps:- the pics were taken by me while waiting to board the plane.

tranSIT till my butt fell asleep

I am halfway through my journey to the dark continent and I am already tired. I am exhausted physically and mentally. I wish I could shut off like half of these people on the plane but I can't sleep a wink. So far from Detroit to Holland I have watched three movies in succession, ODed on diet pepsi and eaten breakfast and dinner. My eyes are itching cause my contacts want out and my butt is half asleep. The airport in holland is beautiful but the way I am feeling I couldn't be bothered. I looked for a Wifi hotspot and plugged in but I have to get back to my terminal soon because I want to schmooze with folks and kill boredom of the flight. I haven't read but two chapters of my book and my ipod hasn't had any playtime yet. All I can say is I can't wait to lie on a cold pair of sheets and taking a bath. This is how bad I hate being on transit, I actually went to a KLM desk and asked them to put me on the next flight available to my destination. I can't believe they only operate one flight per day! Are you kidding me? Its Christmas for Christ sake, don't you think you can add another flight on the rooster. Anyway I am done bitching. I am off to look for a place where I can get a decent cup of espresso and maybe go wash my face and freshen up. SAVE ME PLEASE!! Some dude from West Africa just came up to me to ask me about flights and stuff. He can't speak good english and all i can gather is he is heading to Kiev and wants to pick up his luggage. I thought if you are in transit you don't pick up your luggage, the airline takes care of all the headache. Maybe I should be worried about my luggage?? nah.......I got what I need in my carry on: My laptop, my books, my contacts, my feminine toilteries and my cell phone. No wonder my back is breaking. Pray that I don't have to have any issues when I get to Africa, I would hate to have an excuse never to go back there.

Mixed Union

My friend is getting married this December. Its been close to a decade since she met her husband to be and now after all the struggles they are getting married. She will not have any family at the wedding because her mother is against the wedding and its out of the country. When she told me I felt bad for her because a wedding is a joyous occasion to share with all those you love. She will be with her husband's family but no one she can call her own. I will be traveling towards that area so I meaning to suprise her and come to her wedding. Its in Addis-Ababa. I don't even know how I will get there but she is a friend and a sister and least I can do is fly a few hundred miles and see her through the greatest step in her life.

I was thinking about her mother's objection to the wedding. It used to be she needed to finish school but she is done and still the objection remains. Could it be because the guy is half Ethiopian-half Italian? Could it be a discriminatory objection? Would my mother object if I did the same thing? I love my mother but I would like to think if I chose a husband and he was a God fearing muslim she would accept him. Is there something in the older generation that makes them think that mates should be from within their own race? As transportation gets easier and people move from place to place its getting more common for men and women to find mates from other races. Yet, in somalis there is not much conformation to this thought. In my family alone I have had cuzzins, grandpa and aunties who married white people. They have never being accepted by our extended family but in our house they found refuge. I remember the guy who married my cuz even came to my grandma's funeral at our house, even though his marriage had being destroyed by all the talk within in the family. I remember him wearing a khamis and giving hugs to us and telling us sorry. Instead of accepting his condolences the extended family kept asking what the hell he was doing there. I felt so ashamed and made it an effort to keep him a company during his visit.

Its unfortunate that we get caught up in our differences instead of our similarities. There are Mashallah plenty of great somali guys out there but if Allah places a brother (from another race) in your path who seems to meet all the criteria shouldn't you then say Alhamdullilah and accept him? Shouldn't your family be happy that you found a person to complete your deen with? I also noticed a trend that many woman prefer reverts as husbands because they tend to be more steadfast in their faith.

Di Dutty Wine Anyone?

A new craze on the dance floor ladies and gentlemen. Fair warning though there have been cases where injury occured while getting your dutty wine on. I luv dancehall and ragga, hell anything that can keep me on the dance floor (my room) for more than five minutes sits well with me, but i am not sure about dutty wine. In Jamaica a girl got injured and now some people are asking for the dance to be banned from clubs. Seriously, forget getting injured, I am wondering what a man watching a girl do the dutty wine is thinking. The dancing is more than provocative it is plain suggestive. The neck is rotated with the same vigor as the ass, not to mention the splits performed in the dance. Watching Tony Matterhorn perform with audience members onstage, even he can't resist grabbing the woman and resting her squarely on his pelvis. Its a nice tune and all but looking at the different clips on youtube I can only imagine what messages this dance sends.

My fav clips of Dutty Wine is by a Colombian Dude and he kills it!

Ps:- For some reason the head swinging makes me think of arabic dances. In mombasa at weddings the bride used to swing her head till she fell. Wondering if thats arabic influence on dancehall?? I can't tell.

Concept of Forgiveness

I ask for no forgiveness father, for I have not sinned. I only did what I had to do to survive. A small boy asked me once if I was a bad man. If I could answer him now, I would tell him that when I was his age, I killed a man to save my brother. I am not sorry for this... I am proud of this. I was not asked for the life that I was given, but it was given none-the-less... and with it, I did my best

I am thinking of this remark made by a character in the show Lost. Eko, who is the character, caused his brother's (priest) death due to his greed and has being followed by his demons since. The scene in which he makes this remark, he is been told by the ghost of his brother to confess and ask for forgiveness and the above is his reply.

Sometimes I question the obvious but when Eko said what he said it triggered something in me. There are moments in my life, and I am not ashamed to admit it, where I ask the same thing. People accept many things in life and one of which is the religious doctrine we are handed. Sins and the concept of sins has always alluded me. I could be just thick in the brain but from the creation of Adam and Eve, humans have being slated to sin. Our life revolves around either dodging sins or getting caught up in it. The DOs and the DON'Ts. See, I don't think its blasphemous to ask or maybe its due to the nature of my upbringing (my dad always told me to question everything someone handed to me including religion). So, here are a set of questions.

1. Why is our life revolved around sins?


2. If our time on earth is a test, and many of us failing this test, what is the point?


3. Forgiveness is granted to the sincere and remorse, but if they stumble again they are eligible for forgiveness. How does that work out with an end goal?


4. "I am human, I stumble and fall." I do my best but what if my best is never going to be good enough?

Please Leave Your Senses at the Door

I do. I forego my senses everytime I walk into this room. Its not an ordinary room. The whole room is made up of mirrors and not just mirrors but mirrors of different properties. The mirrors make me see things I never usually pay close attention to, like the crinkle by lips that is getting deeper due to the increase in the number of forced smiles or the clearing up of my skin due to my use of proactive. Today, I walk to the center of the room and turn to stare at the different individuals looking back at me. They each take form. One is mad at the world. One is patient with the world. One is in love with the world. One is betrayed by the world. Each individual showcases their emotion clearly on their faces and bodies. They take on a form in their own entirety, shedding me in the process. I stand watching as each starts speaking. They have voices! Angry voices! Smart voices! Nice voices! Sweet voices! Loving voices! Crying voices! Sad voices! I struggle to understand them but their voices rise together like waves and crash with a roar upon my ears. Their emotions jump across the mirrors and envelop me, caressing me and touching me, begging me. I cringe yet its not out of disgust. I know what these emotions are. I have continually denied them in my life, always pushing them to the back of my mind and hoping they would stay there. I hug my arms to my body and kneel on the ground. I rock back and forth in the familiar motion of mother to a sleeping child. Pretty soon the roar subsides and when I look up the mirrors reflect only me.

How biased can one be?

I am pissed, not mad but pissed off. I was sitting back today when a friend of mine posted a link for me to check out. It linked to a documentary that FOX channel aired. The documentary was titled; Obsession:Radical Islam's War Against the West. Is the title supposed to make me feel better that Fox takes apart my religion by separating the radical from the moderate, while in their documentary there was no moderates but only radicals shown. Prayers and khutbah's are seen as congregations of potential terrorists. No wonder we can't even pray in public places without drawing suspicion to ourselves. They talk of Arab media spreading propaganda but American media spreads more propaganda than any media outlets out there. Talk about bias. The mind boggles at the kettle calling the pot black. Lets talk about the children depicted in the video. These children were mainly from palestinians who live in a war torn country, constantly dehumanized and desensitized to the violence. I am sorry but I would have to be dumb to expect a mad person to act sane. These are people who have moved their reasoning to the far left as a reaction to the atrocities commited to them. How many of the clips were taken out of context? How much of the clips shown aren't doctored to throw Islam and immigrants in bad light? "America is being strangled by its own laws?" So, basically throw out all muslim immigrants because you don't know whom among them is a potential radical. Its absolutely revolting that a susposed news channel that should give two sides of an arguement can be so blantantly biased. Worse still is the comparison to Nazism. If anyone was really interested in finding out what motivates these acts of violence then perhaps they should do an investigation on what it is that makes a moderate muslim a radical? What must he have seen/experienced to dehumanize and desensitize him so much that he would forsake his life? Everytime I turn around these days its one thing or another about Islam. Our religion's name has being placed in the context of radical and acts of terror so much that most people can't distinguish between the two. I weep for our Ummah.

Watch Obsession.

Pesky Weddings

I haven't gone to a wedding for two years but I had to go to one on Saturday night. I say had to because if it was a personal choice I would rather not turn up to the gathering. My first cousin was getting hitched to her hubby, someone I didn't even know nor have I met ever. She informed me of her wedding three weeks before the date via a phonecall informing me that I was expected to do the camera work. What irritated me was the fact that its not the first time that my extended family feels like my services are available for them at their every whim. I was scheduled to work that saturday till 6 pm and I didn't feel like standing, with a camera permanently attached to my hand, for another 7 hours. Furthermore, for a person that doesn't talk to you nor see you except once a year, thats a mighty favor to ask of them. I might come across as embittered but here is my reasoning. If you are going to have a wedding its your wedding, not mine. You want to make a big hoopla about it go right ahead, but do not drag me into it just because you are trying to cut corners financially. Thank God she got the hint that I didn't want to do it and got someone else to do it.


I hate weddings especially family weddings cause undoubtly talking will begin on how everyone is dressed, what hairstyle they have, what food is being served, how much money was spent etc. Its everywhere you turn and I can't stand it. The chickenheads trying to outdo each other with their dance moves and gyrating their bodies to the floor just so that they are seen as cool. Its a ritual that I fail to understand. The same girl you see doing the nasty with the floor will be wearing an abaya tommorrow and telling you she is sanctified and holy. Its like they conviniently forget the camera is trained on their butt shaking the whole time. I told my mother I am not cut out for these kinds of events. The only ones I seem to be comfortable in are the ones hosted by somali sujuis, and maybe those are because they tend to just focus on celebrating the union instead of all the other lil evil things that most somali weddings seem evolved to become about. I hope it will be another four years before I attend another wedding!

The Female abuser

Last night as I got home from work, I sat on my bed contemplating my horrible day. My head was pulsating with an urgency, signaling the ever present headache. I reach out to grab my bottle of water and a couple tablets of my topamax. I knew it was no use because the migraine was going to be full fledged within an hour, but that didn't deter me from being optimistic. My head had barely touched the pillow when I heard raised voices from the living room. Not wanting to get up from sheer lack of energy, I listened to canopy ensuing between my younger brother and my younger sister. I told myself that they were old enough to resolve their differences without me getting involved each time. "Leylaaaaaaaaaa! Leeeeeeyla!" screamed my older sister as the tumbling of bodies echoed throughout the hallway. Pissed and irritated I get my butt out of bed to play the mediator. This was not a good day for me and I was stupid enough to believe I would find peace in this house. I walk into the living room to find my younger sister lying on the floor ,my older sister's body shielding her from the blows my brother was throwing. I almost burst out laughing but realize the seriousness of the situation and take action instead. I quickly maneuver my body in between my brother and my sisters. Planting my weight against the sofa I pushed him off them and turned my steely eyes to him. "What in the Hell do you think you are doing?" I yell. My older sister helps the younger one up and they all start speaking at the same time. I turn to the younger girl and tell her to shut up because her voice grates against my nerves. Facing the 5 ft 9 " teenager who seems to be ready to pounce on me, I ask my question again this time counting off my exasperation at this show of idiocracy.


The argument begun with my sister donning a pair of jeans and my brother, "the wadaad", ordering her not to step out the house with the jeans on. I smile as I listen to how passionately he positions his argument. Meanwhile, the chickenhead is slowly seeing that she will come out on the rosy side of things and start clucking her head off. I let her blow off stem for a while and pretty soon a shouting match ensues between her and her assailant. She turns on her heels and grabs the phone threatening to dial 911. He beats his chest and states he is not scared of 911 because his religion assures him he is right. My older sister looks to me for intervention and I can't be bothered to mother these two adolescents. I claim my phone back from the chickenhead and tell her to sit down and let me deal with this. She doesn't pay me any attention and keeps grating on my nerves with her shrill voice. **Slap**, I let my palm make my point, she instantly shuts up and sits down.

I turn my attention back to the so called "man" of the house. I lay down reasons why he can't raise a hand to her. She has parents who are living and breathing, she is not your wife nor your daughter, she is her own person and the most you can do is advice her on her course of action. "You and your western values, who do you think you are?" he throws it back in my face. I calmly look him in the eye and smirk, "I am the one who pays for your roof and your food." He opens his mouth to retort something but instead chooses to go to the bathroom to take a shower. I breath deeply as I try to fight the urge to punch the stupid out of him. I face my younger sister, by now she has a golf sized bulge on her head. I grab an ice pack from the freezer and slap it in her hand, after which I go off on her. I tell her how dumb she is that she can talk back to people but can't defend herself against a beating. She is asinine because this is the second time I bailed her out of an ass-whuping, courtesy of my brothers, due to her afka dheer. The last time she ended up with a grapefruit sized knob on her head. I shake my head at her and tell her to lie down. I grab my phone and proceed to let their mother know what happened and let her deal with the punishment.

The rest of the night went by relatively quiet. I sat up in my bed trying to nurse my migraine when my other sister came in from her night classes. I share with her the events of the night and we share a good laugh over how childish the squabble was, but we both understand there is a deeper issue we need to address; our brother's aggression against women. He seems angry at the world and more at women than anything. I can't seem to find an inlet in his psyche that I can penetrate and explore why he feels the way he does. My sister and I talk about the numerous ass whupping I used to deliver to my older brother everytime he felt an urge to exercise control. I used to be a tom-boy in my hey days and didn't take crap from anyone especially a man. If he could swing from the branches, so could I. If he could dive from the highest diving board, so could I. If he scored so many goals in soccer, I would work to score twice as much as he did. I was competitive and brazen. My best friends were male and I formulated my male ego, but I digress. My uncle had christened me Tyson. I had the knack of showing my frustration by punching something or somebody, but if I recall right he called me Tyson because one time my brother and I had a fight and my brother tried to defend himself by tangling my body with his and scratching my arms and face to stop the flurry of fists. I ended up doing more damage than he did, plus he left evidence of his attack while mine melted into his skin tone. The next day, my dad watched me out of the corner of his eyes noticing the scratch marks. That evening as my brother walked in from masjid, my dad lay in wait for him with a TV-VCR wire. I felt sorry for my brother at that time, but I remember thinking that he was learning a critical lesson and that was never to lay a hand on a woman. I can't help but make a comparison. I wish my younger brother could learn his lesson now otherwise I fear he will carry this mentality with him throughtout his life. The mentality that he is the man and therefore all should do as he wants. That he free to punish whenever & whoever he feels like. I am now scared of leaving the younger ones in his care due to his aggression.

Weirdo.....Schmeirdo

So Fallen Angel tagged me to list 6 weird traits about me. I don't know if I can fulfill the full 6 but I will try my best. The origin of this lies in this rule :

Each player of this game starts with the “6 weird things about you”. People who get tagged need to write a blog post of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names (Sunshine).

1. I sound like a white woman with no accent but look like a black woman, even my mother sometimes thinks I am white when she calls my job and I happen to pick up the phone. I also sound younger than I am and often mistaken for my younger siblings.
2. I carry a book and camera with me everywhere I go and stop to take pictures when I feel moved to.
3. When I am nervous, there is no infliction in my voice. I could be nervous and sweating during a speech but you can never tell from looking at me. I project confidence.
4. I am too intune with my body. I can skip my monthlies just by telling my body, " I can't deal with it this month, I'm too wired". I can also tell when I am about to get ill and how long it takes me to recover. Often this also translates with me being able to diagnose other people's ailment to the T.
5. I am fearless of everything except needles, but alhamdullilah I am getting over that fear these days.
6. I suffer from an odd form of OCD. I like everything in their place and if its not I can't work. When I come into my work and find it messy, I clean it up before i can begin filling prescriptions but on the other hand in my room its a form of organized chaos. I know where everything is and if anyone moved it but to others its a disaster area.

So now I have to tag six other folks to air out their quirks. I tag:-

• BlueEpocha
• Twoadvocates
• Angry Somali Man
• Pucca &/Idil
• Aya
• Doubting Thomas.

Ps:- I have no delusion as to how many of those tagged will actually participate. Godspeed.

Political Ads

Since the midterm elections are over, 2008 election campaigns are just beginning. This is one of the anti-bush that makes me chuckle each time. Take a look @ "Bush ad".

Consumerism @ its best

There are a bunch of people sleeping outside today in the cold. Why? Because the Playstation III is coming out tommorrow. I was huddled into my coat, sweater, sweatshirt and gloves as I walked past weirdos just like these. Ok no offense, but what is so important about this system that you would be sitting out in the cold air to get it? Is it going to prevent world hunger? Going to cure AIDS? I just can't see the logic behind this. There are only going to be 400,000 available for sale in the US. Whats more bizarre is the madness thats going to occur in the morning as people push and shove to get in the door first. The madness is going to be people paying $ 7000 for the system on Ebay and my friend is one of the people selling it on Ebay. The day I will mimic this behaviour is the day that anyone is welcome to take a shotgun and take a shot at me.

Photo by TGdaily.com

Understanding your child

Lots of my friends will tell you I have certain philosophies about children. I love children so much and for some reason unbeknownst to me they love me too. But this is not about my love for children but more my understanding of how they work. There are two articles that caught my interest. The first one deals with babies and the second one about learning.

We all know that babies have their own language. Hell most of us have tried to imitate them by going "goo goo gah gah". Did you know that you can understand what their cries mean? Each cry signifies a need that will stop the endless fussing that mothers go through trying to figure out what their child needs. No matter what race or culture, all babies, between 0-3 months, use these five basic "words".

"Neh"="I'm hungry"

"Owh"="I'm sleepy"

"Heh"="I'm experiencing discomfort"

"Eair"="I have lower gas"

"Eh"="I need to burp"

Priscilla Dustan, an Australian mom, has a photographic memory for sound. She was on Oprah plugging her cd coming out on 11/27 and she showed examples (clips) of what these sounds are like. Inshallah I will be getting the cd and add it to my library. I think its such a wonderful breakthrough and a lot of mothers not to mention children will be better off from it. On a side note though, most mothers do develop an understanding for their child's needs but there are some mothers who do not develop this connection. For these mothers its absolutely horrible and they go through depression and sometimes do harm unto themselves or children because of it.

The second article was about Dr Mel Levine, a pediatrician from Chapel Hill, North Carolina. Dr Levine has a theory about children and learning. He believes that all brains are wired differently. Though many critics cite his theories as unfounded, the speech I heard him giving was full of Aha moments. A website with more information is www.allkindsofminds.org. I probably will pick up two of his books, A mind at a time & Ready or not, here life comes. Intrigued? Here is an excerpt of his speech:

Ricky is a sixth grader with a brilliant imagination and advanced language skills, but he can't write. That's because he has trouble handling spelling, punctuation, grammar, letter formations and facts all at once with a sheet of paper in front of him. Adults call him lazy, and he is fast becoming a 'bad' boy.

Then there's Beth, a bright kid who gets stymied by sequences of anything – multi-step instructions or math problems, or even presenting her ideas when she talks or writes. Her classmate Wendy is an effervescent red-haired girl of many talents who nevertheless endures constant frustration because she has serious problems remembering what she has read, even though she can understand the content quite well. As she puts it: "Whenever I read, each sentence erases the one that went before it."

These are examples of children with normal or superior overall cognitive ability who are contending with differences in the wiring of their brains, subtle but important neurodevelopmental variations that impede their learning productivity and enjoyment of education. In addition to deficiencies in basic skills – such as reading, writing or mathematics – some of the manifestations are less obvious. The kids may have difficulties managing time, expressing ideas in language, remembering facts or problem-solving methods on a test, understanding key concepts or gaining social acceptance from peers

Preparations

Say Hello to Mama's toy! I got me a toy last weekend. I haven't splurged on gadget tools since I last bought my ipod three years ago and so I feel like I totally deserve this gift. Its a sony touchscreen hardrive camcorder. It holds about 40 hours of footage and with one touch you can burn your footage on DVD. The LCD monitor swivles 270 degrees which for me means this time around I have no excuse not to be in my shots.Its not the smallest thing out there but my small hands can firmly grip this lil gadget without the risk of me fumbling. My favourite part though is use of touchscreen for navigation. I can't wait to put this baby into action on my trip Inshallah.

On a sadder note, I am bed ridden with a cross of bronchial infection and pneumonia. Its unpleasant especially when I keep getting night sweats each night. I finally broke down and went to the doc and now I am on a strict regiment of antiobiotics which lets face it if its viral I might just as well pull a rabbit out of a hat. Only light to my day was finally watching Da Vinci Code and getting a round trip ticket to Cairo for $900 bucks. I am such a trip addict and I am anal about planning everything and at the last moment throwing all my plans to the wind and just living in the moment. I am getting plenty of tips from friends and I even found out that my brother in law's brother (is there one word to say that?) lives there, so I can get to see the other side of my sister's nuclear family. Obviously there is that tiny itsy wintsy problem of not knowing where I will lay my head once I get there but I am fully confident that Inshallah it will work itself out.

Gerald Levert died last week of a heart attack. He was the son of one of the Ojays and was once a member of LSG. I remember many a night me listening to his album the G-Spot. His musical contributions will solely be missed. In an era where music leaves little to the imagination, Gerald knew how to croon to a lady's heart.

I think I have to quit because my head is stuffy and I can barely get enough oxygen in my lungs. Dress warm and always disinfect surfaces because you never know what germs might be lying in wait for you.

Ps:- Has anyone noticed a pesky pop-up everytime my page pops up? Anyone know how to address this issue? Or do I just write to blogger staff and let them deal with it?

In & Out of Time

The sun has come.
The mist has gone.
We see in the distance...
our long way home.
I was always yours to have.
You were always mine.
We have loved each other in and out of time.
When the first stone looked up at the blazing sun
and the first tree struggled up from the forest floor
I had always loved you more.
You freed your braids...
gave your hair to the breeze.
It hummed like a hive of honey bees.
I reached in the mass for the sweet honey comb there....
Mmmm...God how I love your hair.
You saw me bludgeoned by circumstance.
Lost, injured, hurt by chance.
I screamed to the heavens....loudly screamed....
Trying to change our nightmares to dreams...
The sun has come.
The mist has gone.
We see in the distance our long way home.
I was always yours to have.
You were always mine.
We have loved each other in and out
in and out
in and out
of time.

by Maya Angelou

It is what spices up life. Yet, when we seek it, it is never there. We impose our definition of it when we do find it & in one swift motion kill its purpose.Our trials and tribulations mold our view of love. I started off rejecting the notion of love, progressed to embodying it and finally like everything in life I ended up where I started. Love trancedes gender, race, religion, tribe and everything in between. Love is universal and it is this trait that makes it a scarce commodity. It sends shivers up your spine and in the same instant it can bloody your nose or worse break the very organ that beats its rhythm. The rhythm that resounds and is amplified by the weakness in my knees, my tummy doing the cartwheels and the inevitable rush of blood to my loins. 'Tis a bittersweet fruit this love but I am entraced by it. It weaves a web around my writhing body as I try to escape. Leave me be, I yell. This ride is not yet begun comes the swift answer as the beating of my heart increases twicefold. I twist and turn, look south and north but never at the object of my frustration or should I say desire. The clock chimes the witching hour and I cringe for time is a bitch to chase. Must be due to the two xtra hands it possess. I got you NOW, as I manuever into a more comfortable position. I look up and gasp, for the image I see is me alone, haggard and alone. All this time I was running away from myself and time wasn't even a factor.

Nationalist pride

I was visiting my cuz this morning when he made me watch this clip from youtube.com I didn't understand everything about what she said but something about her voice and the way she seems to convey her message pulled at me. So, can y'all help me out in translating the whole thing? Much appreciated to anyone who does.