Saturday 24 October 2015

Distraction or Source of Happiness?

Life is a journey. If I reflect upon my own journey so far, I've come to realise that I used to be very focused on a destination (or rather, lack thereof). So much so that I have not always appreciated the scenery along the way, nor some of the more profound experiences I've had. I have not always been able to see the lessons from whatever trial I may have faced, even worse, I have not always dealt with my trials in an effective way.

I would like to think though, that as I've gotten older and had a little more life experience under my belt, that I have been trying to change the way I approach and deal with difficulty. As I've said before, I am human, and therefore do not always succeed in this endeavour. But after a set-back, I pick myself up and carry on,

One thing in particular, which I've discovered works very well for me, is trying to focus on what makes me happy. Seems simple enough, right?
Wrong.
As it turns out, it took me quite a while to figure out that a lot of the things I thought made me happy were simply distractions. It took quite a bit of introspection, asking some hard questions of myself, before I could give even part of an answer to the question, "What makes me happy?"
I think as we go on, as we experience more, as people enter into and exit from our lives, as the world changes, as we change, so too will this answer.

This has been my thought for the last few weeks - an essential step in navigating the storms of one's life is being able to figure out and know what makes one truly happy, And for us to be able to take this step, we should always be aware of and accepting of the truth, that as we evolve, so too will our sources of true happiness.

Indifference

It's been two months since I've posted anything on my blog. And goodness knows, so much has happened in that time, that I should have enough material to bitch about for a solid year.

It's been an emotional roller coaster for me. Ever since I allowed myself to unlock my emotional side it's been as though I cannot not react to any kind of emotional stimuli - so much so that any feelings that I may have considered trivial or inconsequential in the past now feel amplified.

I was leaning towards a very direction before I started writing this post. Despite the extreme highs and lows over the last two months, I have been dealing with it much better than I would have in the past, and I feel the need to share it. Which I will do at a later stage. But then I read the latest post off a friend's blog, and it spoke to something very close to my heart.

"The indifferent person tends to have a neutral very amicable personality. Never ruffle feathers always pleasant because either …or…it doesn’t matter. People on the outside will see this person as calm and well-balanced. But they are seemingly well-balanced because all the hard decisions are made by the other person…the one that seems to be losing their shit for no reason at all."

I am in a very difficult emotional situation right now with a person I am very close to. This person occupies a very big space in my heart and has been going through so much in their own life (as have I, but really it's nothing compared to theirs), and I think our respective difficulties has placed a strain on our friendship. 

I have been told in the past (by family and others) that I am tactless and reactionary, and for a while I have been trying to be the opposite. I am fully aware that I have the ability to hurt people with the things that I say and sometimes the way that I say them. I am a very big advocate now, for trying to be balanced and calm, even in the face of extreme difficulty. Realistically, yes, it is not always possible. We are human, and therefore imperfect, We are going to react (sometimes really badly). We will err more often than we'd like to. And that's okay. But we should continue trying to be and do better.

However, reading the post that the above quote comes from has made me ask myself: Is my attempt at being tactful and level-headed making things worse? Am I coming across as indifferent?

Wednesday 5 August 2015

Dangerous Minds

Our school is having a concert to commemorate and celebrate its forty year existence. For the past three months, I've worked to children's clapping, stomping and singing...and my office colleague and I find ourselves singing along to the music, even when we're not in school.
One of the acts is done to Coolio's "Gangsta's Paradise". You're probably thinking what a morbid song to have kids perform to, but it is something that more than half of our kids have to deal with in their areas. It also happens to be the theme song of one of my favourite movies.

I think I became a teacher because of Dangerous Minds (for those living under a rock or born post 2000, it is a movie that centers around a new teacher who makes a big difference in the lives of a class of students). I was lying in front of the TV the other day and it was playing on one of the movie channels, and I don't know whether it was just pms or whatever, but I cried at the part where Louanne Johnson's students persuade her to stay at their school because she was their 'light'.

I find myself in a similar situation as Michelle Pfeiffer's character right now, as I have made the decision to leave my school at the end of the year. I haven't been in a classroom for the last year and a half, but I've still managed to foster relationships with the students. So many of them though come from really difficult home situations and live in the ghettos of Cape Town. They're exposed to violence, drugs, abuse...much like the children in Ms Johnson's class (except that these kids are small and it's about more than half of the school).
I'm not going to lie - some of these kids bug the hell out of me, especially the ones with attitudes and no manners. But more often than not, they have this ability to steal my heart.

Through my interactions, I've tried to instill manners and discipline in them (which I feel is very important), but I've also tried to nurture them - whether it was by co-ordinating students to write for the annual school magazine or fortnightly newsletter, playing netball with the senior team to help get them match fit, nursing their scrapes when they come to the office, or stopping to receive their hugs in the corridors.

I have my reasons for leaving. I have to start living my life, and doing things that make me happy. Change is as good as a holiday they say, but it is very scary. I am, however, more confident in my ability to navigate the unknown, and I am very happy to be leaving many of my colleagues behind.

But if I'm honest, I'm not looking forward to the sadness I know I will feel the day I have to say good-bye to my children.


Tuesday 4 August 2015

Brave


You can be amazing
You can turn a phrase into a weapon or a drug
You can be the outcast
Or be the backlash of somebody's lack of love
Or you can start speaking up

Nothing's gonna hurt you the way that words do
When they settle 'neath your skin
Kept on the inside and no sunlight
Sometimes a shadow wins
But I wonder what would happen if you

Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave
With what you want to say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I wanna see you be brave

Everybody's been there,
Everybody's been stared down by the enemy
Fallen for the fear
And done some disappearing,
Bow down to the mighty
Don't run, just stop holding your tongue

Maybe there's a way out of the cage where you live
Maybe one of these days you can let the light in
Show me how big your brave is

Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave
With what you want to say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

And since your history of silence
Won't do you any good,
Did you think it would?
Let your words be anything but empty
Why don't you tell them the truth?

Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave
With what you want to say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I wanna see you be brave

Thursday 23 July 2015

Tradition

We celebrated Eid in Cape Town four days ago. For you who may not know what Eid is, it is an Islamic religious holiday celebrated twice in the lunar year - the first is celebrated the day after the fasting month is completed (the one we've just celebrated), and the second one is celebrated on the tenth day of the twelfth lunar month, which corresponds with the third day of pilgrimage.
It can be likened to Christmas or Hanukkah - a day for families and friends to get together - but what makes Eid unique is that each one has a specific significance attached to it: the first one is the Eid of charity, and the second the Eid of sacrifice.

Muslims around the globe celebrate this day in many different ways, and along with the specific religious duties and customs that have to be performed, every family has their own unique customs and traditions that surround it. In my family, my mother buys gifts for all of her grandchildren, makes her own corned beef and home-made baked bread (which I have taken over, since she sustained a shoulder injury), makes meat pies and cooks a pot of biryani; My eldest sister-in-law makes her version of fried chicken (which is better than KFC, in my opinion); one of my older sisters makes a roast leg of lamb (or two - we're a big family) with all the trimmings; my baby sis and I bake biscuits and cakes; and the rest of my siblings will see to puddings and desserts. New clothes are bought and homes get a spring cleaning (regardless of the season).

Our home is the central meeting place for all my siblings and their children, and for a few extended family members, and for the last thirty four years, Eid lunch has always been under my mother's roof.
When I was younger (and lazier) I complained a lot - about the amount of people in our home on that day, of all the preparation that we had to do, of nieces, nephews and small cousins invading my personal space, operation clean-up afterward. I argued a lot with my mother and older sister because I didn't understand why things had to be done a certain way and when I became older and 'wiser', I became even more impatient with some of the customs that I felt were unnecessary and extravagant.

This year, due to miscommunication and stubbornness, we were almost forced to break with our thirty year tradition...and it felt like there was a death in the family. My mother was completely distraught at the mere possibility of abandoning the tradition of having all of her children congregate under her roof for Eid.  I kept my opinions to myself and waited to hear what the elders had decided, but overheard my mother say to one of my sisters that she wants us to carry these traditions on if she is no longer with us one day, and that she hopes that we will remember her and continue to pray for her.
We stuck to our usual plan, but because of the conflict of the preceding few days, the day was dampened somewhat.

It was the first time I actually stopped to think about what makes people cling for dear life to their traditions. I can only really answer for myself, and from what I witnessed and felt last week, it boils down to three things: immortality, human connection and the happiness one feels at the remembrance of fond memories.

I have lost some people in my life, but I remember them through the little traditions they were a part of throughout my life. My late uncle and aunt had supper at our house at least once a week, and I can still hear her laugh and I still clean the lids of the sauce bottles like he used to do. Whenever I hear the song, "Pump up the jam" it makes me think of my late brother, and his ridiculous dance moves. Tin Roof ice-cream reminds me of my father's late wife, because she always made sure there was a tub in the freezer whenever I came to visit her.

These people may be gone, but they are very much alive in my heart.

We do not live forever, but every person wants to be remembered after they leave this world, and I suppose traditions are the one thing which helps us to leave our mark in this life.

Friday 3 July 2015

Photo Blog Challenge: Day 5 - Convention (is overrated)


Weddings can become such a spectacle sometimes.
I become quite disheartened when people stress excessively about the actual wedding day, that they forget about the lifetime of hard work after - who's going to be in the wedding, what are they going to wear, it must all be uniform, blah-blah-blah. Then you get those overbearing aunts and cousins who are under the illusion that they have a say and like contribute their two cents, even though it isn't wanted or needed, and the poor bride capitulates so as not to offend or cause huge rifts in the family. On the flip side, you get brides that don't give a rat's ass about anyone but herself, and alienates people who have been there for her, her whole life.

One thing in particular that really upsets me, particularly with Muslim marriages, is how the brides forget the boundaries of our religion when it comes to their wedding. I was really appalled at one of my cousins when she got married, because her dress was so transparent, she may as well have been naked. You have just bound yourself to one man, and every other male attending your wedding reception is treated to what should be for your husband's eyes only.

My baby sister was married eighteen months ago. She prides herself on being unconventional, and I daresay, certain aspects of her big day were quite so. I was really proud of the decisions she made with regards to her wedding.

The image above was taken in one of our local botanical gardens, and the only specification she gave to the photographer on that day was that she wanted to have 'sneaker' pics.

We are part Indian, and those of you who have attended one will know it can be quite an extravagant affair. The week before the actual wedding day is crammed with smaller functions and get-togethers. She chose to forgo all of that.

Her dress was beautiful - it covered her completely, and instead of having her hair done up with a tiara and veil, she wore it completely covered, simply draping her headscarf in a more formal way. She also said "To hell with fashion, I want to be comfortable" and wore flat satin pumps, instead of six inch heels.

Her bridal party consisted of eight of our family's grandchildren - five of our nieces and three of our nephews. Instead of spending obscene amounts of money on custom made ensembles that they would wear for only one day, she allowed the four bridesmaids (of which three towers over her) to select their own dress, in a colour of their liking, so that they could wear it again, and asked them all to accessorize with silver (scarves, bolero jackets, shoes and jewelry).
She didn't hire a stylist, a make-up artist or fancy cars, and she designed her own wedding dress.

Her unusual wedding was the most relaxed and most enjoyable one our family has experienced in a long time.
Convention is definitely overrated.

Thursday 2 July 2015

Photo Blog Challenge: Day 4 - Turning Point


My job description has changed almost every year since I've been employed at my present school.
In 2010 (the year I started) I was employed to assist the school librarian, to help with remedial mathematics and to assist the two school secretaries with menial things like filing and duplication. Since then I have taught EMS (Economic and Management Sciences), History, Geography and Art, and for the last two and a half years, I've been doing financial administration.

The most difficult thing I've had to do these past five and a half years was teach Art. I don't have an artistic bone in my body. I can't draw for shit, I don't paint really well, I cannot build or construct things. The extent of my artistic talent ends in organising an office space.
I was asked to teach this subject because the usual teacher had taken early retirement, and this woman did not leave a single lesson plan or guideline for me to follow. So, Google became my best friend and I spent that year researching things to do in a Grade 4 Art class.

To my unending surprise, my children responded well to the things I asked them to do. As I had a room specifically designated for me to use, I could display their offerings (as you can see in the middle picture above - that room was my solace and joy). That specific year was a turning point for me as professional.

Since then, I have had to face some weird challenges at work, many times involving things I had no experience of or training for. And thankfully, I have managed to handle myself (and in some cases, managed to avert or overcome catastrophes).

I am on the cusp of leaving my present job in pursuit of a completely different career path. I do not have a 100% solid plan yet, and yes, I am scared of the change. But I'm not scared enough to back out of my decision.

I had always been afraid to make a mistake at work. I had little to no faith in my abilities to fix my mistakes or in my ability to learn from them. It took a fourth grade Art class and two years of psycho-therapy for me to realize that I was holding myself back.

So, I may not know exactly which direction I am going to be turning to. I do know, that which ever way it is, I WILL hit the ground running.

Wednesday 1 July 2015

Photo Blog Challenge: Day 3 - Miracle/Blessing/Inspiration


Ten years ago, one of my nephews entered this world with less than a 5% chance of survival. He emerged from his mother's womb and went straight onto an oxygen tank and into an incubator. In addition to not being able to breathe on his own, the doctors discovered a suspended liver, two holes in his diaphragm and a hole in his heart. My brother and his wife were told to expect the worst.

The procedure that he needed to have performed to fix the holes in his diaphragm had a very low success rate. Thankfully, he made it through, but we were told that his heart surgery would have to wait until he was a certain age and weight. I remember the day we fetched him from the hospital to come home for the first time. He was about 4 months old, and I remember my mother telling us that the doctors said he was too stubborn to die.

He had a long and arduous seven years, of doctors' visits, continually deferred theatre dates, stunted physical development and trying to reach the insurmountable mass of 15 kilograms.

In 2012, my brother arranged a trip to Saudi Arabia for his wife and their four sons, as we had finally gotten a solid date for his surgery. My mother and I went along, and it was by far, the best journey I had ever undertaken.

My photo today is of our miracle/blessing/inspiration and his mother, walking on the grounds of the mosque in Medina. We were very worried about how taxing flying would be on the his health, but he amazed us all from the very first day.
All of us got sick at some point. He did not even get as much as a sniffle.
At home, it was a constant struggle to get him to eat. He was the only person who ate every airline meal, and had the appetite of a grown man for the duration of this trip.
One of the rituals of pilgrimage is to walk seven times between two hills - the total distance is approximately 2.1 kilometers. Adults are spent at the end of it. He walked it all by himself, and even 'ran' some of his laps.

As had become normal for him, he breezed through his adversity against some pretty hectic odds, and survived his heart surgery, (hopefully) his last major medical procedure. His health improves daily, and he is a mischievous, humorous, intelligent little boy.

It is human nature to complain and become despondent at all of the things in our lives that go off-script. However terrible his ordeal was for him and for the family, it has taught me not to wallow in failure or disappointment. It has shown me miracles. It has shown me my many blessings.

And he will continue to be my biggest inspiration.

Tuesday 30 June 2015

Photo Blog Challenge: Day 2 - Solidarity

I am very bad at keeping up with current events. I have no interest in politics, and my home life is so busy, my family takes up a lot of my head space.
A few days ago though, I came across the following article online: http://www.jpost.com/Diaspora/Extremists-threaten-to-burn-Talmud-rip-apart-Israeli-flag-at-London-march-in-Jewish-neighborhood-406435

In it, the spearhead of this initiative said that this "would mark solidarity with those being oppressed by the illegal state of Israel". I read up some more on this fellow, and the more I read, the more I wanted to scream this statement at him.

If by some chance, he or one of his followers read this, I'd like to say this:

Solidarity means unity or agreement of feeling or action, especially among individuals with a common interest; mutual support within a group. 

I do not support Israel at all. I feel that they are at present the prime human rights abusers, and that the world is letting them get away with serious criminal activity. What do I do to show solidarity? Support organisations who provide aid to those oppressed. Boycott organisations who provide aid to the oppressors.

I am NOT going to paint every other Jew in the world with the same brush. I am NOT going to petition to have them thrown out of their residential areas NOR burn their religious texts.
This is NOT a form of solidarity. All it will do is show that I am as intolerant as they are.

A lesson we can all take from this: do not mask your own agenda behind the (serious) plight of others. God does not sleep and karma is a real thing...

Monday 29 June 2015

Photo Blog Challenge: Day 1 - Memories

So, two bloggers I follow did the 5 Day Photo Blog Challenge. Pictures are sometimes worth more than a thousand words and I have really been enjoying their offerings.

No one has challenged me to do this, so I decided to challenge myself. I also don't have anyone else to challenge, but if you're reading this and are intrigued, here are the rules:

1) Post a photo each day for 5 consecutive days
2) Attach a story to the photo. It can be fiction, non-fiction, poetry or a short paragraph. It’s entirely up to the individual.
3) Nominate another blogger to carry on the challenge. Your nominee is free to accept or decline the invitation.  Just have fun. 
These are birthday cards I have received over the years from one of my sisters. She is the one sister who's gifts always come with a card, and it is always spot on for the recipient. She knows I like to laugh but that I also am quite sentimental (a side people fail to recognise), and so her cards are always a combination of humorous and sweet.
Every now and again, when the mood to spring clean strikes, I take out the box that these are kept in. Many other things have been kept in that box - letters and cards from old friends, love notes from an old boyfriend...many of which I have discarded over the years. I cannot bring myself to discard these, as it is a small reminder that though they may be few, there are people who love and accept me for who I am.

Wednesday 27 May 2015

Conquering Everest

On Saturday afternoon past, I came home, showered and prayed, and got into my car and drove (by myself for the first time) to meet my best friend for dessert. The following Monday morning, I drove to work, to therapy after work and then home again (again, by myself).

I sat behind the wheel on both of those occasions and marveled at the fact that I was legally driving myself around. Now, you might read this and think, "Uh, it's driving man. Almost everyone can drive." And you would be right - it is a skill more than 50% of the world's population possesses and not something to really make a song and dance about.

But for me it represents a....it represents new-found courage and gumption. I was one of few in the world who avoided learning to drive for almost fourteen years, and who managed to learn to drive and get a valid driver's licence in just over a year.

Sitting in my car on Monday, I felt like I conquered a personal Everest. I tried something new and succeeded, despite fear of failure and just fear period, and for the first time ever, I felt as though I really could do anything I set my mind to. This is something we often preach to children, but this is the first time ever I can honestly say that I feel this way, and that I believe that I can accomplish so much more than I thought.

Driving today. Who knows what I'll conquer tomorrow...

Sunday 24 May 2015

Extra-ordinarily Ordinary

For a very long time, I've had this nagging feeling, ever-present at the back of my mind (and sometimes so much at the forefront that it drowns out every other thought): nothing about me is extra-ordinary.

People's eyes widen in disbelief when I tell them that I was a quiet child (I have a really big mouth now and I'm not afraid to share my opinion). Not necessarily at home, but at school and in social situations I was sufficiently awkward.
I changed primary schools a lot - never spent more than two years at a school. I had always been an above average student, but I was nothing special or outstanding, never attracted attention, and I envied those children who had countless friends and popularity, and who excelled (whether at academics, sport, arts, or just socially). I found my voice at high school, became more confident but still flew pretty much below the radar and was never asked to represent the school for anything.

While I was never bitter about these things (in fact, I was the leader of the cheer squad for all my peers who took part in competitions and quizzes and sporting fixtures), I can admit to myself now that I was disappointed to be overlooked and excluded. Every child wants to belong and fit in, yet at the same time, they also want to be special or great at something that is uniquely them. And because of the constant changing, I did not have the time to settle into a school, which I feel probably contributed to slowing the development of my confidence and personality, and the discovery of any talents.

I'm happy to say I've grown into 90% of my personality - I say 90% because I believe in leaving room for improvement - but even now, I cannot really say that there is one thing really outstanding about myself.

However, I can do many things well, and am always surprised when I successfully acquire a new skill. While these seemingly ordinary talents may not affect the world at large, I have seen them positively impact on some - well, no, many actually - in my small world.
And that's pretty extra-ordinary to me.


Sunday 3 May 2015

Z is for Zeal

“Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

I don’t have many ‘great’ achievements, but I try to generally live my life by this philosophy. I have a zealous approach to all things – be it work, relationships, leisure. It does tend to exasperate most - even my best friend sometimes tells me to dial it down a bit– and usually elicit one of the following three reactions: people are either annoyed, or find me naĂŻve, or take liberties (especially at work, coz I get shit done).

But I can’t help it. And I’ve stopped apologising for it. I am an upbeat person. I also live by my mother’s teaching, which is, “If you do something, especially for others, do it properly and because you want to, or don’t do it at all”. So, whether it is cleaning a kitchen, teaching a class, organising a party, studying for a test or nursing a sick parent, I do it readily and cheerfully.

My enthusiastic nature and MO may not have resulted in greatness, but it has brought me many achievements and happiness.

Y is for YOLO

“We all have two lives. The second begins when you realise you only have one.”
~ Tom Hiddleston

This may be the first time where I will disagree slightly with Mr Hiddleston.
We have one mortal existence, for sure. Unfortunately, there are people who take this to mean that they can just do whatever the hell they want, regardless of the consequences and of the people it affects. I am in complete agreement with the first part of his statement.
However, I do believe in an actual second life – the eternal life after death.

This belief is a very important article of my faith, yes. I was born into my religion, but there comes a time, I think, in everyone’s life where they have to decide on it for themselves. The words of one of my lecturers still resonate with me today – you have to decide whether you want to follow your faith completely.

I’ve been very fortunate to have been able to pursue religious studies for a few years. It didn’t add to my professional qualifications but it gave me clarity and conviction in my religion, and particularly, in the existence of a Hereafter.
We cannot be here, go through all our trials and tribulations simply for the hell of it. Logically, there must be a purpose to our lives. And with this conviction came a consciousness with regards to how I conducted my life. As a child I was taught how to pray, how to fast, how to dress, how to live, but I was never taught why. And for three years, I learnt why.


We do have two lives, but we only have one shot at this life on earth. And I choose to try to live my mortal life in preparation for the next.

Saturday 2 May 2015

X is for Xerox

Sometimes your job forces you to acquire some odd skills.
The year I started at my current workplace, I was employed in two capacities:
First, I was the assistant to the librarian and my duties were to give media classes to Grades 1-3 and to assist with library maintenance. Secondly, I was to assist the school secretaries with their administrative tasks, and the one machine I became very intimately acquainted with was the Xerox machine.

Every single day for almost five years, there was something I needed to photocopy. Classroom activities, parent communication and circulars, examination papers – you think of it, I duplicated it. I spent so much time in that small room, I became able to detect malfunctions by the smell and sound alone, and the sound of the machines became like a soothing lullaby.

I don’t think I ever want to look at another photocopier ever again.

W is for Who am I?

I was born during the last decade of the Apartheid era, was eight years old when Nelson Mandela was released from prison and was twelve when we had our first democratic elections. I did not feel the effects of this dark time the way my older siblings and parents did, and therefore feel that I cannot claim to be a child of the struggle.

South Africa is in its twenty-first year of freedom, but unfortunately there is still lingering effects of Apartheid, mostly in the form of racism. Law does not dictate it anymore but you still find people grouping together based on race and ethnicity, and you still find quite a lot of intolerance.

Now this may spark outrage and controversy, but for me, the worst thing that has happened in the last twenty years is that the indigenous people of my country have confused their identities.

I find it very disconcerting when I walk past a Zulu person speaking English with a British accent to a fellow Zulu, instead of their own language, or when I talk to Xhosa and Muslim learners at school and they do not know their own culture. It’s almost as if they are afraid to outwardly express the uniqueness of their cultures and faiths, and are all striving to become the same thing.

I was like that too. And there came a time when I had to ask myself who I was – a question I can now answer:
I am a Muslim, Indian-Cape Malay hybrid, South African woman.
And I am so grateful that time, circumstance and experience have steered me to where I sit comfortably in my skin and wear my identity proudly.

V is for Virtue

As an unmarried thirty-something year old female, I am constantly bombarded with comments and questions around my state: “Why are you not married?” “What kind of guys do you like?” “You’re too full of shit.” There are many others I can’t readily think of now (they have become like this incoherent hum, and my brain now blocks most of them).

But the most colourful question I have been asked (recently by a colleague) is whether I’d like my future husband to be a virgin. I laughed, and will admit that I did not quite know how to answer this question because it’s the first time I’ve ever been asked. I mean, I opened my mouth and nothing came out. Literally nothing. I don’t know of any woman who has been asked this question (if you have, I’d love to know what your response was).

Do women think about men’s virtue? I did not actively before this week.
Could it be because virtue is sneered at? Or because we still live in a patriarchal world where a woman is expected to maintain her virtue but a man is not (whoever wants to argue this point, ask yourself why a man is admired when he can ‘get’ lots of women but a woman is labelled a slut when she does the same)? Or could it be that despite the labels, more women are adopting the attitudes of men, and saying, ‘Screw it. I’ll do what I like.’

So my response to her was this:

It is difficult to answer because we all make mistakes and people’s circumstances are different (I mean, if I were to marry a divorcee, I couldn’t very well expect him to be a virgin). Ideally, yes I would like someone completely virtuous, because that’s what he will be getting if he marries me. But we do not live in an ideal world. And so I would be happy with a person who has virtuous ideals.

U is for Useless Colleagues

Work has been kind of miserable the last six months or so because I have been cursed with useless colleagues. One would expect the children and their parents to be the ones who are difficult – and some of them are, but my biggest challenge at work are the people I work with.

They are divided into three:
First, you get the ones who are just downright lazy, will do nothing for themselves, refuse to learn or acquire new skills and expect others to clean up their mess; the ones who think they know everything there is to know, and who are threatened by your ability to work; lastly, the ones who are so vindictive, that they make every effort to derail your projects or attempts to affect positive change.

I do not need to be defined by a career or money – I do not chase titles or positions, nor do I covet millions. Work should be legal, enable me to pay the bills and allow me enough time to devote to things that do define me – family and other interests.
When it comes to my career and workplace, I ask only for the following: that you do your work, allow me to do mine, take responsibility for your successes and failures, and remain professional at all times.

You don’t need to like me – I have friends – but respect, boundaries and WORK ETHIC is imperative.
Sadly, I seem to have ended up in a place where these are appallingly lacking.

Wednesday 29 April 2015

T is for Twilight

For those of you rolling your eyes, I am referring to the books, and not the film adaptation (which, despite the fact that the books are way better, wasn't too bad either - don't pretend you didn't watch it and that you didn't like it).

I was introduced to Twilight through the film. A good friend of mine allowed me to gatecrash her cousins' movie date and I was pleasantly surprised at the film - vampires, romance, hot guys; all my favourite things in one film, and I left the cinema quite happy to be in love with Edward Cullen.
Anxious to know how the rest of the story unfolds, I went and bought myself the books.

Life is so serious and sad, and for my sanity, I escape into the worlds of movies and books. I have my preferences when it comes to my entertainment, but I have only one rule: the less of reality in it, the better. I wish I could read the Twilight series for the first time again, because it would be so amazing to experience those emotions all over again. 

Not only am I drawn by the romance (and not just of the lead characters, more so, in fact, of all the peripheral couples), but by the way Stephenie Meyer has managed to show us this dream world. She is, in my humble opinion, brilliant at her craft.
I read all the books a week (I spent a whole day in pajamas reading Breaking Dawn and finished in less than 24 hours, only getting up twice to use the facilities) and it was as though I had a cinema reel inside my head - every word played out behind my eyes as I read them.

However, the two greatest things that this series has done for me: it led me to my best friend and led me to writing. 

And inspired me to set an actual goal for myself. Hopefully one day I will be able to create something just as magical.


Monday 27 April 2015

S is for Sagittarian

I’m not one who follows the Zodiac – in fact, I usually think it’s a lot of hogwash. But my bff sent me this email, which shares seven characteristics of Sagittarians. I laughed at how spookily accurate the following were, pertaining to me:
  1. It’s always funny to see how uneasy they can be with compliments/flattery, even though they love it. (yup, me in a nutshell)
  2. It’s not that they’re blunt and don’t care, they just say what everyone else is thinking. (My filter is a work-in-progress)
  3. They love meeting new people…who think and act like them. (Hahahahaha! I totally do!)
  4. You’ll be surprised at how “easily touched” they are. Yes, they are sentimental…sometimes. (Big mouth, small heart – that’s me)
  5. Their sarcasm will crack you up, especially when they’re mad. (Don’t say you weren’t warned)
  6. They make great sidekicks. They like to have fun and do new shit. (I am THE wingman…winglady…wingperson)
  7. To really make them understand something, use logic. They don’t really care about your “emotional revelations”. (It’s not that we don’t care – we just don’t always understand that language)

R is for Reality TV

This is a phenomenon that I just have not embraced. Yes, people might tell me that these shows depict how the world and people are today. And they would be right – the world is a weird place right now, and is getting weirder by the minute.
But we have only ourselves to blame for this because we sanction weird behaviour by watching these shows.

How can we consider physical struggles (sickness, hunger and exhaustion) of a group of people marooned on an island as entertainment, when there are an obscene amount of people in the world who experience these struggles for real every single day?
Who in their right mind would want to televise their quest for love? It is hard enough to find it without an audience. These people are deluding themselves into thinking that they’ve found real love after going through what is essentially a catalogue.

What frightens me most about reality TV is the rapid rate at which it has grown – because we watch it. It’s become normal to throw random people into a house and watch them deteriorate. It’s become normal to publicize people’s dirty laundry. It’s become normal for teenagers to fall pregnant at seventeen. It’s become normal for housewives to beat each other up in front of a camera.
This is the result of reality TV.

Times move on and societal norms and customs do change. But does no one worry about the fact that we have regressed to a point where unacceptable behaviour has become accepted? Does no one worry about the effect it will have on the generations that will come after us?

I feel like the world has now become the forty-floor building from the novel High Rise – and like those people in it, we are racing towards our own decline.

Q is for Quotes

A couple of months ago I was browsing through a store and saw this adorable little notebook with teacups on the cover. Said notebook became the home of my collection of quotes – from books, movies, songs, people. I think the quotes I collect say a lot about me as a person, and for this particular post, I thought I’d share a few of my absolute favourites.

“I want to be the best version of myself for anyone who is going to someday walk into my life and need someone to love them beyond reason.” ~ Jennifer Elisabeth

“I always start writing with a clean piece of paper and a dirty mind.” ~ Patrick Dennis

“Follow the three R’s: Respect for self, Respect for others, Responsibility for all your actions.” ~ Dalai Lama

“A positive attitude may not solve all your problems, but it will annoy enough people to make it worth the effort.” ~ Herm Albright

“No one has ever drowned in his own sweat.” ~ Ann Landers

“A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.” ~ Ingrid Bergman

“Rudeness is the weak person’s imitation of strength.”

“I melt. And am not of stronger earth than others.” ~ Coriolanus

“I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you. Especially when you are near me as now; it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in a corresponding quarter of your little frame: and if that boisterous channel and two hundred miles or so of land some broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt, and I’ve a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly.” ~ Jane Eyre

“You have witchcraft in your lips, Kate. There is more eloquence in a sugar touch of them, than in the tongues of the French council; and they should sooner persuade Harry of England than a general petition of monarchs.” ~ Henry V

Saturday 25 April 2015

P is for Pilates

November last year I discovered Pilates. I had a very different view as to what this form of exercise was about – I still had images of Julie and Kirsten of the OC, bored California housewives looking for something to do.

And then I met Naz, our trainer, who made me do Pilates in a dress for the first time (I was with my sister that evening, and just went along to observe). The next week, I officially joined.
Naz makes Hitler look like a Backstreet Boy. The hour we spend with her every Tuesday is split into twenty minutes of very high impact aerobics, thirty five minutes of Pilates and five minutes of stretching. We don’t perspire in her class. We sweat like pigs.

I like doing physical things but I hate gym (too boring and monotonous and solitary). And this has been a blessing. We are a small class of about seven ladies, so Naz can focus on each of us. The other ladies are all very cool, and are great at motivating one another.

In addition to being able to see the physical changes on my body, I am sleeping better, have less tension knots in my neck, and have been able to avoid going on meds to help with depression (endorphins are AH-mazing).
I’ve also started a class at school with my kids, incorporating some of the stuff I learn in my own class (trying to pay it forward).

So, get up and go and find a form of exercise that works for you and that you can stick with.

O is for Originality

In 2013, I enrolled into a Journalism class. Two nights a week for four and a half months and copious amounts of writing (I actually miss having writing deadlines, and this challenge has been good for me).

Our first writing assignment was labelled “Originality” and we had to answer fifteen questions about ourselves, so that our lecturer could get to know us better (we were a class of seven people, so this was possible for her to achieve).
The last instruction was for us to tell her some things that we have very strong feelings about. I read through this assignment this evening and although it is now two years later, the following still stand:

“I believe that wisdom does not always come with age. I believe that every major problem we face in the world today is a result of greed, intolerance and lack of accountability. I believe that there can be no love between a man and a woman before marriage. I believe that the breakdown of society is directly linked to the breakdown of families. I believe in speaking and hearing the truth – even if it is bitter. I believe a smile is the best form of charity.”

N is for Nerd Girls


I would like to dedicate this post to the women in my life, the ones I have met recently and the ones I have known almost forever – my best friend, A, my sisters, my mother and my new friends I’ve made via Twitter (Z, K, Deb, Holly, Red, etc.).


This is us, ladies.

I am not going to sit here and spew some unrealistic crap about how looks do not factor into what makes a person hot, because it does.
I will say that tastes vary and attractiveness is subjective (and therefore cannot be STANDARDIZED, LABELLED or STEREOTYPED), and so everyone will have their own idea of what they find hot.

But. Intelligence is ALWAYS sexy. In my own experience, limited though it may be, most men fear intelligence in women. A clever girl will see through all of your bullshit.

But she will also be able to recognise your insecurities, and when this cleverness is coupled with kindness (which you will find it often is) she will never use them against you, she will never play on them – she will work to bring out the best in you, and if you are equally smart, it will lead to her to giving you the best of herself.

So guys, once you overcome your fear, break out of your Paris-Hilton-esque mind-set and are brave enough to venture into our world, you will find us nerd girls surprisingly sexy and romantic. 

Friday 24 April 2015

M is for Madrassah

The word "madrassah" is an Arabic word that literally translates as "school". For a Muslim, it refers to the Islamic equivalent of Sunday School, where young Muslim children go to learn about their religious history, to learn of the practical applications of Islam (prayer, fasting, charity, pilgrimage) and to read Arabic (thereby enabling them to read the Qur'an).

Of all of my mother's children, I was the child most resistant to this stage of my life. Yes, I went. I learnt how to read Arabic, and I learnt how to pray and fast, but I did not enjoy the experience, and my religious duties were for a very long time a chore to me. We were always warned of the punishment that we would receive if we did not follow our Creator's laws correctly.

At the age of 23, I got to perform my obligatory pilgrimage. It was the most difficult, but the most profoundly beautiful experience of my life, but it also made me realise how poor my basic knowledge of my religion was. A year later, I left my job and enrolled at an institution that offered religious studies for adults. I stayed at this institution for three years and my experience with madrassah this time around was completely different to my experience as a child. I was not only reminded of the correct manner of the various forms of worship, I also learnt why they were important and how they developed over time. I got to know my Creator better and my love for Him and my religion grew.

I didn't enjoy madrassah as a child because my teachers did not instil a love for Islam in me.
I still do not follow my religion perfectly. No one can because we are human, and therefore imperfect. 
But whatever I do now I do happily and willingly, from a place of understanding and love.



Sunday 19 April 2015

L is for Letters

During the eleventh grade at high school, a group of my girlfriends and I received a naughty letter as a joke from a group of our male friends. This became a competition to see who could scandalize the other more…and ultimately led me to my first boyfriend experience.

Said boyfriend and I were together for thirteen months. During that time, he used to write me letters when he was in English (he had an arse-numbingly boring teacher) which he used to slip to me during intervals (we were not in the same class).
I kept these in a special box, which still smelled like him four years after we broke up.

I love receiving letters – not email (although I don’t mind these when they’re personalised messages instead of chain mail) but hand-written ones. There is just something about it – the smell and texture of the paper, the handwriting of the writer, colours and types of ink…these things can tell you so much about the writer, and what they think of the person they're writing to.

Mostly though, I love them, because a hand-written letter says to me that someone finds me worthy of their time and effort.

K is for Keats

I was flipping through the movie channels one afternoon and came across a movie called “Bright Star”. For those of you who do not know (like me), Bright Star is the title of a poem written by John Keats. I happened upon this movie somewhere towards the end, but I do know that it documents his life and, more importantly, his relationship with Fanny Brawne, the inspiration for Bright Star.

We read some of his poems at school (Ode to a Nightingale and Ode on a Grecian Urn comes to mind here) but beyond that, I have no other knowledge of him. But the character of Keats was so beautifully portrayed by Ben Whishaw (I mean, I was completely convinced of his love for Fanny, despite the fact that Mr Whishaw is not attracted to girls) and it led me to do a little bit of research on the poet.

I was amazed to discover that he studied medicine and had received his apothecary’s licence, which allowed him to practice as an apothecary, surgeon and physician. He left the medical field because it interfered with his writing (brave chap) and composed a number of poems and wrote many letters.

Unsurprisingly, I am more drawn to his letters, than his poems. “They glitter with humour and critical intelligence. Born of an ‘unself-conscious stream of consciousness,’ they are impulsive, full of awareness of his own nature and his weak spots.” The romantic that I am is naturally drawn to the letters he wrote to Fanny. Reading them showed me how powerful words can be and inspired courage in me, who, as a fledgling writer, is extremely self-conscious and afraid still to display her weak spots.

Sadly, he did not linger long in this world. But for me, John Keats is the perfect embodiment of the following words from Virginia Woolf:
“Every secret of a writer’s soul, every experience of his life, every quality of his mind, is written large in his works.”

Saturday 18 April 2015

J is for Jane Eyre

Over the last five years or so, I’ve fallen in love with the classics. Not all, as I am struggling with Thomas Hardy, but among my favourites are Shakespeare, Austen and recently Orczy (thank you again, Holly, for introducing me to the Baroness).

I tend to favour romances, and as a rule, only read stories with happy endings (real life is hard enough and I unapologetically prefer my entertainment to be as far from reality as possible). It is for this reason that Austen is a particular favourite of mine.
However, Austen’s heroines are too perfect. I like stories which depict women as equally strong and vulnerable, and equally virtuous and flawed, and Anne Elliot is the only Austen heroine, in my opinion, who portrays this beautifully, which is probably why Persuasion is my favourite Austen novel.

My absolute favourite classic story though, is Jane Eyre. Those who know me well might find this surprising, as the story has a very dark element, as is indicative of the BrontĂ« sisters. I’ve read Jane Eyre quite a few times, and in addition to the story, the language always surprises me. I know language changes and evolves with time, but I wouldn’t mind at all to be wooed in the way Rochester woos Jane. Some of my favourite scenes include the part where Jane leaves to visit to her sick aunt and Rochester’s happiness at her return to Thornfield Hall.

My favourite line from the novel comes from Rochester, when he tells Jane, “I have a strange feeling with regard to you. As if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly knotted to a similar string in you. And if you were to leave I’m afraid that cord of communion would snap. And I have a notion that I’d take to bleeding inwardly. As for you, you would forget me.” In all of my reading, I have yet to come across a more beautiful way of saying, “I am in love with you”.

As regards the actual story, a few things come to mind, which gives me hope as regards life and romance…
The heroine is a teacher, and makes a significant difference in the life of her student; Jane does not compromise her principles or dignity for the sake of a man; Rochester falls for Jane’s mind, heart and spirit, not for her arse; Jane is tested in many ways, but never takes the easy way out; the plain Jane, not the princess, gets the guy in the end.

Of all the tales I’ve read in my life, this one will remain one of my all-time favourites, for imparting the simple wisdom that life may not be a fairy-tale, but it is quite possible to experience fairy-tale moments and fairy-tale endings.

I is for Introspection

Plato asked, “…why should we not calmly and patiently review our own thoughts, and thoroughly examine and see what these appearances in us really are?”

Two years ago, I would have laughed uproariously at the above question and said that Plato = NATO (No Action, Talk Only). All my life, I have been a doer. The bare minimum thought before taking action. Always the one who had no patience for talking or thinking (in excess, I mean), and no patience for people who basically live in their heads, and not enough in the real world.

However, Plato has a point, and circumstance and people have steered me towards a path where I had to sit and examine my conscious thoughts and the motivations behind my actions.
It is human nature to readily be critical of others, but to turn that critical eye on oneself…it is one of the most difficult and uncomfortable experiences one will ever have to deal with.

I still believe that it is dangerous to permanently reside in your head. A tree does not become a piece of furniture because the carpenter wished it so – he had to get off his ass and convert the tree into timber, and fashion the timber into a table, or chair, or book shelf. Action is imperative when you want to progress.

But action without thought, can be infinitely more dangerous (I was the poster child for this), and it is up to us to be able to strike a productive balance between the two.

H is for Hiddleston

This challenge would be incomplete if I did not find a way to talk about Tom Hiddleston. Sigh. Where do I begin? Or rather…instead of going on and on and on about his perfection (which I most definitely can do), perhaps I could talk share two positive ways my actual life has been impacted due to this person and the madness that is the Hiddleston Fandom.

Unexpected Friends: My favoured means of social media is Twitter. If I’m having a particularly bad day, I can simply open my timeline and my mood is instantly lifted. It is there that I officially became part of this fandom, which consists of millions, all ages, all shapes, sizes and colours, spread all over the globe. I must thank you, Tom, for the new friends I have made through you. I have yet to meet any of them in person, and I sincerely hope that I will get the chance to, because they have been a comfort and solace through a particularly difficult period. Together with Tom, they have re-introduced me to Shakespeare, expanded my reading repertoire, encouraged me to try new things and celebrated my successes with me.

Embracing the woman: For as long as I can consciously remember my life, I have been a tomboy. I was a little girl who played with toy guns instead of dolls, played sports, preferred jeans and dirt to dresses and make-up. Even when I hit my teens and twenties, getting me to dress up or even just presentably was a chore. Grooming was not my thing. But then I became part of this crazy world and became kind of infatuated with this man. As I watched his interaction with his female co-stars, or just females in general, I became more and more aware of myself as a woman. I want to be someone’s Peggy Bell, Kate, Virgilia, Eve…
I take a little more pride in my appearance these days and I embrace what makes me woman. 

Who knows? Someday Tom and I may run into each other (the world is such a small place these days)…and I want to make him turn around and look again. 

G is for Guns

When I was sixteen, my sisters and I went shopping a few days before Eid (the one we celebrate after fasting). I was tired and cranky, and decided to wait with the trolley near the exit while they ran into one last store. I sat down on a bench facing the store and suddenly I heard screaming and gunfire. It was a good few seconds before I realised that I was in the middle of the crossfire, and ducked behind my trolley. I managed to sprint into the store when the firing stopped, and thankfully, none of us were hit. But when I got home, I went to my room and burst into tears.

Ever since that day, I’ve had an issue with weapons. Even if I saw a police officer (trained and licensed to carry a firearm) with his weapon, it caused a mild anxiety attack.

My phobia was cured eighteen months ago. My younger sister decided on a very unconventional “Cowgirls and Indians” bridal shower. There were the usual games and food (but of course) and her fiancĂ© had sent along an assortment of handguns and rifles (these all fired pellets, not live ammunition) and set up targets in our back yard for archery and shooting. I became acquainted with a rifle called Buttons, who helped me get over my fear of weapons.

Last year, for my new brother-in-law’s birthday, we arranged a paintball shooting party and there was a section of the park with metal plates placed at various distances for target shooting. My bro-in-law is anally safety conscious and is a patient shooting instructor, and that day, I discovered that shooting is, within a controlled environment, a great way to relive stress, and that I have quite a skill with a rifle.

I had to wait a few months, but finally managed to purchase my own one.
This, ladies and gentlemen, is Loki.