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?