Monday, 20 December 2010

Happily Ever Afters


On marital relationships:
#1

One of the best pieces of advice I ever received on the matter of marriage is to 'start as you mean to go on'. Initially, I underestimated the significance and implications of this, but the understanding did inevitably dawn on me some time later.

Entering into a new relationship, we generally want to be the best we can be, doing as much as we can for the other person, perhaps as a way of expressing our love and affection, or perhaps to put forward our most endearing image. Whatever our motives, it is not uncommon to set really high and often realistic expectations for and of ourselves in those early days, months and in some cases, even years of our relationship.

What we often fail to realise is that what we are creating is a rod for our own backs; by setting these unrealistic and unsustainable expectations, we will inevitably arrive at a point where life becomes too difficult, too strenuous, too demanding. The consequences for the relationship are also concerning- either you will attempt to maintain that unrealistic level of commitment which will give rise to sheer exhaustion and subsequent resentment of your partner, or you can scale down your commitment and suffer the wrath/displeasure/disappointment of your partner. Either way, it can be a challenging road ahead and can really test the fibre of your relationship.

Which is why that advice is so very important. Begin your relationship as yourself. Your ordinary, every day self, warts and all. Do what you are happy to do going forward. Be the person you will be happy to be not just today, but for countless tomorrows as well. And if you are worried that that might not be good enough for your partner, then you really need to question if he/she is the right match for you.

Of course, this advice is in no way meant to undermine the importance of compromise, flexibility and patience (you'll need an abundance of all of these and more), but in terms of your day-to-day commitments, you need to be fair to yourself. And by the very nature of fairness, you will undoubtedly be fair to your partner, which results in a balanced, and God-willing, harmonious overtone to your partnership.

If you're already in the aforementioned pickle, I wish you the very best in unpickling your circumstance!

More to come...

Sunday, 19 December 2010

The air of my ancestors


I was recently asked by a sister to write down some observations I'd made regarding life and relationships. It isn't customary for me to do this in a public forum, but in keeping with my promise to her, I shall.

On being content:

Contentment is the result of one's reflection on one's daily blessings and a conscientious response of humble gratitude for those blessings.
We live in a world that all too often draws our attention to our faults and the faults of our circumstance. We are essentially cast in the script of our lives as lacking, imperfect, incomplete. Our lives are not validated as authentic or worthwhile unless we are perpetually seeking to better our financial and consequently our social status. Its all about looking good, living large and surrounding ourselves with equally glamorous and upwardly mobile people. As a result, we often respond with resentful dissatisfaction with our lot, always wanting more, always craving something 'better'.

But what if what we have is actually enough? What if we stepped outside this insidious paradigm and observed just how much we DO have? If we could contrast our lives to the lives of any person living in one of the many developing countries of our world, we would be blown away by just how fortunate and full our lives actually are.

I recently had the humbling opportunity to do just that. Earlier this year, I visited my country of origin, the Syrian Arab Republic. As I deeply inhaled the majestic air of my ancestors, I also ingested the raw and very real living conditions of my Syrian brothers and sisters.

Let me start by saying that I have never met happier, more content people in all my life. There were radiant smiles everywhere I turned and exhilarating laughter echoing through the walls of the many homes that I had the privilege to call upon. They were hospitable to a fault, warm and inviting. They found joy in what some may regard as the mundane - a family car journey across the Syrian border into the dusty streets of Lebanon, with no promise of anything more than the woody aroma of cedar competing with that of less appealing but more insistent human odours.

In terms of our Western paradigmatic understanding of wealth, many if not most of these people are incredibly poor. Their homes are small, the amenities are basic, available resources are scarce at best. But their lives are more rich than any people I know, myself included.

Key to this, from my observations, is that they have a very different definition of success. They place far greater import on intangible things- and at the very top of their priorities is family. Consequently, they view life through a lens that enamours gratitude and indeed contentment.

So, having been inspired and humbled by beautiful Syrian hosts and friends, I decided to actively strive towards adopting this world view upon my return to the Great Brown Land, and I have to say, life has never been better.
I am not earning more money, or living in a bigger house in a more 'prestigious' suburb. I am not wearing designer clothing or strutting around in Jimmy Choos. I haven't had a nose job and each of my stretch marks still reside in their usual place, if anything, more assuredly than ever. I am consuming the same food as I was before my Syrian experience. And I still have the same husband and children (God bless each and every one of them). But I am more observant, more reflective, more grateful than I ever thought I could be. And in turn, I am less critical, less angry and much less resentful. I still have moments where I need to scream at the top of my lungs and want to escape to a place of restful quiet, but these are fewer and more far between.

And with that, I arrived at my opening statement, confidently and with eternal hope.

Saturday, 27 November 2010

5 values espoused by Islam that I wish to share today.


1. Your soul knows what is right and what is wrong. Do that which your soul is comfortable with. Do that which you don't mind people finding out about. If in doubt, opt for that which is doubtless.

2. Your intentions in all things should be for God and God alone. Any act that is for any other intention will be judged accordingly.

3. Be humble. Actively seek to be more humble. Consciously, in every aspect of your life. Think of all the great people that have graced this earth. Those that made a real difference. The one common trait amongst them was humility.

4. Do not judge. It is exclusively God's domain. Nothing good can come of it, but plenty of bad often results. Self-righteousness, arrogance, complacency, a hard heart and the rest.

5. Be easy on others. Be hard on yourself. Don't assume the worst or jump to conclusions. On the contrary, make excuses for them.

Thursday, 14 October 2010

'Teenage dream'...whose teenage dream?!

Taio Cruz says it like this:

'I came to dance, dance, dance, dance
I hit the floor
'Cause that's my, plans, plans, plans, plans
I'm wearing all my favorite
Brands, brands, brands, brands
Give me space for both my hands, hands, hands, hands
Ye, ye
Cause it goes on and on and on
And it goes on and on and on

Yeah!'

...riiiiight

or if you prefer Usher:

'I feel like a zombie gone back to life (back to life)
Hands up, and suddenly we all got our hands up
No control of my body
Ain’t I seen you before?
I think I remember those eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes
Cause baby tonight, the DJ got us falling in love again
Yeah, baby tonight, the DJ got us falling in love again
So dance, dance, like it’s the last, last night of your life, life
Gonna get you right
Cause baby tonight, the DJ got us falling in love again
Keep downing drinks like this
Not tomorrow that just right now, now, now, now, now, now
Gonna set the roof on fire'

Okay. Am I missing something here, or are these like the lamest lyrics ever? 'Give me space for both my hands' and 'keep downing drinks like this'. Who on earth is listening to this nonsense?

Well, as it turns out, millions of people are!

These are a just a tiny snapshot of the lyrics of the 'chart-topping' music for 2010. Sadly, the airwaves are littered with more where that came from.

Whatever your view of music may be, there is no denying that these sorts of messages are being accessed, voluntarily or otherwise, by some very impressionable ears. You can't turn on the radio or television and not have to endure some regurgitated form of this sort of drivel.

These songs are attached to catchy beats, and before you know it, the children are mouthing their messages without even noticing. Some may be too young to comprehend the meaning or understand the implications, but others are having these irresponsible ideas embedded into their psyche, to be retrieved or called upon some other day.

Whether we like to acknowledge it or not, our children are learning a lot about gender relations, gender identity, social roles, 'norms' and practices, drugs and alcohol, domestic violence etc etc and are having some very unsavoury practices normalised and even idealised both implicitly and in some instances like those quoted above, quite explicitly.

I worry about how we, as parents, combat this other dimension of social pressure, how we can ensure that our children don't accept these practices as 'cool' or as 'part of everyday life'... how do we market to them a responsible, ethical, safe (and in my view, moral) alternative without appearing too strict or rigid or uncool.

Just my little rant for the night...

Monday, 23 August 2010

Untitled

Life is

Distraction


Busy busy comings and goings
in then out then in then out
running running running

from dusk til dawn then dusk then

schoolworkchoreworkhusbandworkchildworkhealthworktrialworkwork

then more work!

*insert soft, lulling incidental music*

....muuuusic....soap operas....facebook....fantasy....holiday


DISTRACTION


=discontented, disconnected, disillusioned soul
uneasy
uneven

without purpose.

Sift through, peel back, wipe away, bring forth, resurrect, realign, refocus, prioritise

Dismantle

d i
s t r t i o
ac
n


devoted
inspired
spiritual
transcendent
responsibe
accountable
traveller
introspective
on task
new Life.

Thursday, 22 July 2010

In response to Yasmin Alibhai-brown's article:The burka empowering women? You must be mad, minister

Today, I was flicking through the world news as you do, and happened to stumble across a very disturbing take on the British government's recent rejection to ban the burka. It appears that a Muslim journalist, namely Mrs Yasmin Alibhai-Brown, is furious at this turn of events, having hoped for a ban of this, as she puts it, 'perversion of our faith'.

So of course, I had to comment, and have done so by addressing her article (printed in red font below) one inflammatory section at a time.

I do invite you to read and add your comments.

Wasalam,
Rafa

Let me open with Assalamu alaikum- the commonly used Islamic greeting meaning ‘peace be upon you’.

As a Muslim woman and a reader of this recent article, I felt it my duty to respond. To have not responded would have made me, in some way at least, complicit in the propagation of such slanderous misinformation. So here goes.

These British apologists for the burka make me see red, whatever side of the political spectrum they come from.
They can be Left-wingers who'll countenance no criticism, however valid, of hardline Muslims. They can be Right-wing libertarians who insist any woman has the right to wear whatever she chooses.
And, as we discovered this week, they can be members of the British Cabinet who ludicrously claim the burka actually empowers women.


Why ludicrous? Surely Ms Alibhai- Brown cannot claim to be society’s universal mouthpiece!

Yes, Caroline Spelman, the Environment Secretary, really did claim that the burka delivers its wearer blissful freedom. As a Muslim, you might expect me to agree with her, but I can't. She is wrong. Her fatuous and ill-conceived defence of the burka rendered me apoplectic with fury.

She is wrong? Fatuous and ill-conceived defence? Talk about abusing emotive language!

Does she even understand the harm she does by sanctioning this perversion of our faith?

Now this is where I am rendered ‘apoplectic with fury’. A perversion of our faith? Surely Ms Alibhai-Brown is a well-respected scholar that is recognised by a reasonably sizeable portion of the Muslim community to make such a comment. So where is the justification to her comment? How is it a ‘perversion’? And of what ‘faith’ pray tell? Because as far as I’m concerned, it is certainly not the Islam that I follow.

Immigrant Muslims who came to Britain to get away from Stalinist ayatollahs, mullahs and women-hating fanatic regimes in their home countries must be spitting their teeth out after hearing Spelman's astounding endorsement of this dreadful garment.

Really, I am fed up already with the sweeping statements and gross generalisations. I am an immigrant Muslim who migrated for none of those reasons. Neither did my mother or any of my friends or any of my mother’s friends for that matter.

In fact, I don’t actually know any Muslim woman (and I know a good number of them, having been Muslim all of my life and having been very much immersed in the local Muslim community) that migrated for the aforementioned reasons. Saying that, I would certainly not have the audacity nor the sheer ludicrosity (as displayed by Ms Alibhai-Brown) to allude that no immigrant Muslims have migrated for those reasons, but that’s just me. I am more interested in accurate depictions than fantastical stereotype-mongering.

We Muslims who came here wanted the freedom that Britain's proud history of democracy was renowned for. We wanted better education for our children and to live and pray in peace in a country which, for all its faults, gives us civil rights and equality between the sexes.

Again, ‘We Muslims’. It would have been far more appropriate and dare I say, true, if Ms Alibhai-Brown started that sentence, with ‘I’ instead. Besides anything else, her reading of history appears much skewed and certainly one-sided. I would think that many of Britannia’s old colonies might take umbrage with her representations.

Yet Spelman's support for the burka suddenly puts all of our expectations under threat; for the most obvious manifestation of the oppressive Islam we left behind is welcomed here with the blessing of the ruling elite.

Oppressive Islam? That is an oxymoron if ever I saw one. It would seem, that rather than shirking the actions of the ruling elite, she is in fact buying into their far more dominant and prevalent discourse that portrays Islam as oppressive, and Muslims in need of liberating. There is only one Islam, and it is anything but oppressive. Now if she'd said that some so-called Muslims attempt to misappropriate their own misogynistic views/practices as being founded in Islam, then that would have been a bit more palatable. And perhaps more honest.

I'd like to invite Mrs Spelman to prove she believes what she says by wearing the black sheet and mask - surely she should do that as an act of solidarity with the 'empowered' Muslim sisters she admires so much.

And if she chooses not to, if she feels she would find wearing a burka limiting and suffocating, why on earth is she breezily recommending it as a garment for other women?
Would she honestly be so upbeat about the burka if a daughter of hers hid herself away inside its veil, or if her son brought home a totally veiled bride-to-be? I don't think so. She and the rest of the 'liberal-minded' burka brigade can only afford to be generous because the burka does not - and never will - affect their own lives, nor test their powers of endurance.


To check out the shrouded sisters who tell me they feel ' beautifully' liberated under a veil, I tried wearing a burka for a day - and threw it off in a couple of hours, wheezing asthmatically.

Poor woman. Asthma is indeed a nasty condition. But come on now, does she really think that simply because her short-lived experience of the ‘burka’ was, for her, an unpleasant one, that those ‘shrouded sisters’ could not possibly be telling the truth? If so, why should we believe her? What makes her experience any more legitimate than theirs?

I felt wiped out, a nobody - lifeless and voiceless.

I can’t imagine what it must be like to be a woman so dependent upon her public appearance for validation as a living vocal present somebody.

A Pakistani shopkeeper said I made him nervous because he couldn't see my face. I saw others shrinking away from me - and I could understand their reactions. So, will the defenders of the burka brand me and the shopkeeper racist? I wouldn't put it past them.

In truth, I am a life-long anti-racist and die-hard defender of Muslims - yet one who abhors veils as do countless other Muslims.

Pahaha! Now that is hilarious. ‘A die-hard defender of Muslims’. Call it paradox, call it what you will but I don’t think I have laughed this hard in a long time. Thank you for injecting some humour into an otherwise banal article. I still have to disagree with you though...

It is a view that has provoked fury and warnings from veiled women, who self-righteously tell me that uncovered Muslim females will end up in hell unless they repent. Women like me, they warn, are 'western whores' who should be thrown on the eternal fire, along with our mothers.

Who are these rude women and how dare they call themselves Muslims? I find it very hard to believe that these veiled Muslim women are using such profane language and taking it upon themselves to damn Ms Alibhai to eternal fire. I would have assumed that they, as practicing Muslim women, would know better than to judge and condemn. Anyone who knows anything about true Islam knows full well that that is God’s dominion alone.

Of course, many veiled Muslim women argue that, far from being forced to wear burkas by ruthless husbands, they do so out of choice. And I have to take them at their word. But it is also very apparent that many women are forced behind the veil.

But, Ms Alibhai-Brown, you haven’t actually done that. You haven’t taken them at their word at all.

A number of them have turned up at my door seeking refuge from their fathers, mothers, brothers and in-laws - men brain-washed by religious leaders who use physical and mental abuse to compel the girls to cover up. It started with the headscarf, then went to the full cloak and now it's the total veil.

Religious leaders using physical and mental abuse? And in Britain no less? Why have they not been reported? Why have they not been prosecuted? One would have thought that such heinous abusers would have been exposed, shamed and hung out to dry in a media so geared to out any inkling of Muslim-related misdemeanor.

Yet again, Ms Alibhai=Brown's writing creates the detrimental illusion that this is commonplace, standard, acceptable Islamic practice. Clearly, though, this is far from the truth. Religious leaders would not be religious leaders if they were practicing such abhorrent, unIslamic injustices. Fyi, there is no compulsion in religion, and more specifically, any form of abuse is strictly forbidden, as it is in all major belief systems. To insinuate that more than 1.4 billion people would follow a religion that preached anything less would be, well, nonsensical.

There may of course be warped individuals who are guilty of these accusations, perhaps even some cultural leaders with their own agendas who mislead the ignorant into mistakenly believing such practices are religiously justified, but that is not what Ms Alibhai-Brown chose to write. Sadly, what she wrote can only be read as prejudiced vitriol.

A good number of these women are warned of the wrath of Allah unless they succumb to life behind the veil; they are told by their fathers they are whores; they are told they will have no friends in the community - and worse still - end up spinsters.

Ms Alibhai-Brown continually confuses the veil (hijab/headscarf) and the burka (face covering)- to do so is very misleading and if she has done so deliberately, very mischievous. To suggest that the headscarf is not an intrinsic and widely accepted part of Islam is nothing short of ludicrous. There IS consensus that the veil is a prescribed religious practice. The face covering, however is not.

I am incensed by the rampant vilification of Muslim fathers, especially when she begins her attack by saying that there are 'a good number' of these ruthless men.

And so these women do wear burkas against their will. I see them in restaurants and parks, unable to eat properly or feel the sun and breeze on their skin.

Today, younger and younger girls are having their hair and small bodies covered up. They are learning the first step to personal incarceration. By the time of puberty, they can choose nothing else.

From her cultural paradigm she has chosen to perceive Islamic modesty as 'personal incarceration', but she hasn't the grace to stop at that, in effect calling us who choose to cover mindless drones that lack the ability to choose anything else. Really?!

I'd imagine that she'd be up in arms should someone working from a disparate cultural paradigm frame their perceptions of acceptable 'Western' attire as a far more sinister type of personal incarceration, one where a woman is required to parade around in the most figure-flattering garments, however revealing they may be, with painted faces and coloured coiffed hair if she is to be well-received by society; that to be validated as a living, vocal somebody, she MUST dress a certain way, and that cannot of course include anything that slightly resembles the modest choices made by Muslim women.

How very sad that we as women cannot see that both of these perceptions can only bring division and disunity at best, possibly even dislike and distrust.

Muslim parents can and do argue that the rapid spread of these customs is a result of their attempt to protect their girls from the tarty, sexualised clothes of Western culture, where mini-skirts and mascara are increasingly worn by pre-pubescent children.

The increasing sexualisation of society should concern us all. But this is no argument for the veil. Good parents teach their girls to dress decently and with self-respect. And the fact is that covering up little girls defines them as sexual beings, not as children, which is what they are.

I and many Muslims, male and female, would disagree with this, as do the majority of Muslim scholars and theologians. The wearing of the veil, despite how Ms Alibhai-Brown chooses to frame it, spin it, taint it with prejudiced distaste, is an act of worship, a prescription from God that the overwhelming majority of Muslim women choose to adopt. When all is said and done, it really is as simple as that.

By the time they have reached adulthood, covered-up women have all but accepted the idea that they are evil temptresses. This is a notion that grossly insults Muslim men as well - for it assumes they are sexual beasts who cannot contain themselves if they see a hint of female flesh.

For the record, no. I do not accept the idea that I am an evil temptress. I do not accept the notion that men are sexual beasts who cannot contain themselves if they see a hint of female flesh. Perhaps, these would be more accurately expressed as Ms Alibhai-Brown's own perceptions, being displaced.

I can safely say that I am an empowered woman, who has much respect for all of humanity, males and females alike.

But men can be bad. And fully veiled females cannot be protected from say, domestic violence - for the scars of that violence are never seen.

Nor can burka-clad women be detected if they choose to commit crimes or acts of terror. There is nothing virtuous about this garment, nothing.

The Koran says explicitly there can be no compulsion in Islam. Mind control is a subtle form of compulsion. I'd argue that too many burka'd Muslim females are exerting a choice they can't not make.

Nowhere in the Holy Book are females asked to cover their faces. A garment used by upper-class Byzantine people to distance themselves from hoi polloi was adopted by the Prophets' wives to stop supplicants and enemies harassing them. That's all it was.

True, a minority of feisty Muslim women today don the veil to show off their kind of girl power.
If they had any conscience, they would not and could not wear the garment that, in so many sectors of society across the world, has become the main way to torment and punish women and girls. Our burka heroines collude with those who torture young Iranian women, for they are proxy maidens to the Taliban.

What a shameful thing to say. If our burka heroines, as she calls them, have not needed to show heroism before, they may well have to in a future where the ignorant people reading this article feel justified in exerting their hateful prejudice towards them.

Then again, in this country, the burka is a means by which women disengage from society. Veil-wearers refuse to compromise - yet we all have to in a complex country.
They do not reciprocate, only expect accommodation. They can look at us and deny us their own facial expressions. Instead of fighting for equal rights, these Muslims want only special treatment.


When Caroline Spelman made her ignorant remarks, she hadn't thought through how far the country can go with this. In Afghanistan, women's voices are disallowed in public places. Will that injunction soon come here?

Well done Caroline Spelman. I applaud you for your unwavering honesty. I can't imagine it would have been easy with the likes of Mrs Alibhai-Brown in your midst.

Do we ban the burka? No, banning is a hard weapon and will make martyrs and is - as Immigration Minister Damian Green said - un-British.

But those who oppose the burka must constantly speak out. Modesty is fine, but state schools should not allow pre-pubescent girls to cover themselves. And in schools, hospitals, courts, universities, airports and trains we should insist that faces must be revealed.

For this sensitive issue, we need enlightened political leaders who can work with the progressive Muslims and stop the relentless rise of the burka. Mrs Spelman is not one of those.

If she thinks she is, God - or Allah - help us all.

Ameen.


Wednesday, 30 June 2010

Drama Queen

One of the paradoxes of motherhood is that whilst you are afforded the privilege of a ready audience, there to receive your performances at will, performing is more often than not such an onerous task that you really don't want to do it.

In the early days, I was both amazed at my little listener (my very young and extremely alert daughter Wafa) and grateful to her for being so unconditionally attentive. She listened to me sing, tell stories, talk nonsense, proofread my essays, and even vent in g-rated rafa-speak about the utter loneliness I felt in a failing marriage. She listened, wide-eyed, looking permanently interested, and even grateful herself for the observant company.

12 years on, and my listener, along with her siblings, seem to be all listened out. Perhaps its because the content is rerun a little too often, or that its all too familiar now, all very old. Or perhaps, just perhaps, its because much of what I say is directive guidance which can sometimes be received as me 'lecturing'.

Yes, I admit, I feel like I have slowly morphed into the nagging mum I'd sworn I'd never be, which has ultimately, put a real dampener on my desire to perform/speak. I don't even want to be an audience for myself, sick to death of my own voice and its constant 'do this' and 'don't do that'. Which is something, 12 years ago, I would never have thought possible...

Saturday, 12 June 2010

Organised chaos and other facts of life in a household of 9

When people find out that I have 7 children, after their initial (predictable) looks of either gross disapproval or acute shock, or both, the first thing they ask is 'how do you do it?'

The simple answer is, half the time, I really don't know. It is bloody hard work. And sometimes, it does get all too much, and I do feel like buying a one-way ticket to anywhere I can holiday indefinitely.

Take this very moment, for instance.

Baby Jacob is grizzling, bored, in his playpen. The plethora of stimulating vibrant-coloured toys that cause me physical pain just to glance at them are simply not appeasing- no, he would much rather be sitting on my lap, nursing- or not. Just being attached to my person somehow is his life goal for the foreseeable future.

Eamonn, after having embarrassed me at the shops with his foul-mouthed impromptu/unpredictable outbursts to complete strangers and his ability to guilt me into buying much 'junk' we don't need and shouldn't eat, has been dropped off to my mum's place for the night, reluctantly of course, despite the fact that she spoils the little rascal rotten. He will be awaiting pick-up by 9am, because a single night is the absolute limit he can bear to be away from home.

Thomas, as always, has refused to eat anything that I have prepared, and has only just come off his computer game. He now needs dinner (God only knows what!), bath, bedtime story x 100, and bed. He will undoubtedly still have a few more fights with Danny before he calls it a night (they've only had 658 fights today, which is well short of their record for a single day).

Danny has been stood beside me as I type, repeatedly asking for the ipod touch his dad bought him for his birthday, which was confiscated about a week ago (for poor behaviour), and he's not taking no for an answer. As a consequence, I have had to retype this sentence about a dozen times and I'm still not even sure it makes any sense.

Raneem is off pottering in the kitchen somewhere. She is the one child that causes me the most mother-guilt simply because she is the least needy. I feel guilty because she is always so good. And believe me, there is nothing more emotionally draining than mother-guilt. Darn society for making it so.

-Oh look, she's just brought me a coffee:
"Here you go mum, a coffee made with my love", she exclaims, smiling.

*sigh*

Wafa is sat behind me, drinking a hot chocolate she made, which probably means there is some sort of spillage/mess waiting for me in the kitchen. She is trying to use the other computer, but Sean wants her to go bed and read. I estimate that this fight will go on for the best part of the next half hour, unless I of course intercede, which usually ends up with Sean and I fighting instead.

The house, predictably for a Saturday, looks like a bomb hit it. I would need to be up and cleaning for at least 3 hours straight to get it to even resemble a tidy abode. As it stands, a tidy sty is all I could hope for tonight, with how lousy I'm feeling.

Let's not forget that tomorrow is my husband's birthday. I haven't even bought him a present yet. I've been too caught up with the thousand other things on my to-do list, and the million things racing through my mind at any given moment.

Okay, its now 10 minutes later, and all of the above has changed. They are now all, bar Jacob (who is now shouting hysterically in his high chair), being chased into their rooms by Sean, who apparently 'has had enough'.

I had better go intercede.

...perhaps if we are fighting, I might be able to delay the birthday present for a day or two.

Who am I kidding?!

Saturday, 29 May 2010

Some days, I have much patience. So much so that I even surprise myself, and yes, it is a really satisfying feeling.

Today is not one of those days.

Wednesday, 26 May 2010

Everything and nothing


Every day, I have a vast number of thoughts that will occupy my mind long enough to enter its conscious sphere, craving articulation, desiring to mulled over and mused upon. But, every day, before I open my mouth, or put my fingers to the keys of my keyboard, I will censor myself, withhold, get cold feet- rounding them up, fencing them in and laying them to rest in their rightful place, in my head- unvoiced, scolding myself for even entertaining the idea !


I am, after all, far from anonymous. I lost my anonymity the day I had my first child.


In becoming 'mother', more than any other role, I was implicitly accepting to prioritise that role above any other, to be the kind of mother my children could be proud of, the kind that is good, reliable, stable, sensible and always dignified.


So, whilst sometimes I do feel muzzled, even suffocated by my voluntary censorship, I still, occasionally, allow myself momentary freedom in my safe places which I have to say, can be very therapeutic.


But for now, my head is brimming with . ... ..... .. stuff.


Ah, the things we do for our children.

Sunday, 23 May 2010

To all those who yearn for the greener grass...


... the very grass you stand on just needs watered. It has the potential to be as green as you want it to be; feed it, nurture it, maintain it. Be content with it. It is, ultimately, in your hands.


All too often, we idealise what we don't have, and forget to be thankful for what we do have. We want perfection, but it simply does not exist, cannot exist in a human world.


Indeed, there will be those who pantomime the pretence of perfection, but that is all it is- pretence.


Be thankful, count your blessings and enjoy the crisp fragrant grass beneath your own two feet.



Thursday, 20 May 2010

Why I wear hijab

Given the recent media coverage of calls to ban the 'burka' and the carte blanche it seemingly has given to every Tom, Dick and Fred to air their misinformed contempt masqueraded as concern/passion for the 'Australian' cultural identity (as defined by the homogenous 'in' crowd bullies on their pedestals, much akin to the school-yard bullies who picked on you because your lunch didn't resemble theirs) , I thought it might actually be fitting for yours truly, an Australian Muslim woman who chooses to don the hijab (the Islamic head covering) to share my reasons for this not-so-welcome choice of attire.

Obviously, it isn't because its the line of least resistance- quite the opposite in fact. In the 16 years I have worn it, my hijab has many a times caused me to be subjected to prejudiced and/or ignorant treatment in a variety of social and professional contexts. It has robbed me of any kind of anonymity, which at times, is challenging to say the least. It has labelled me a whole myriad of undesirable labels- terrorist, fundamentalist, psychopath, oppressed, brainwashed, uneducated, prude and the list goes on.

As a consequence, I am pitied, despised or feared but most commonly I am simply misunderstood. And I am even denied, in many cases, the fundamental right of the whole 'innocent until proven guilty' notion, a right bestowed to any person charged with a crime no less!

But, alas, by choosing to wear a piece of cloth around my head, and favouring modest, concealing attire to the alternative, I am, according to some, complicit in my own oppression, and therefore fair game when it comes to persecution and hate-filled objectification. Very sad, really.

So, why do I choose to wear hijab, in spite of all these trials?

Well, first and foremost, because I whole-heartedly believe that God has decreed it. I believe that it is a commandment from God Himself. And, as a believer in God, I choose to follow His commandments.

That's right, I choose to wear it. It is my choice, and mine alone. As a Muslim, there is no compulsion in religion, and I am free to do from the religion as little or as much as I choose. As such, I choose to wear the hijab. Simple as that.

Why is it that noone questions the Catholic nuns that choose to wear the habit, or the devout Sikhs who wear a turban, or the Orthodox Jewish women who wear the sheitel? Why do those items connote piety and devotion whilst my choice connotes something far from positive?

I guess I will never know. But, let me assure you, my experiences with nuns, Sikhs, and Orthodox Jews have been on the whole far more positive and respectful than many of my experiences with secular 'Ostraayans'. Yes, the irony is quite astounding.

So, just to be clear, one more time for the dummies!

No, I have not been brainwashed.

No, I am not oppressed. Far from it in fact.

No, I do not need to undress to be 'liberated', thanks Senator Bernardi, but I'm feeling quite liberal already!

Peace.

Saturday, 15 May 2010

Doctor, daughter, dreamer.
3,4, 5.
An endless world, distant horizons, everything's so big.
No, it didn't happen...

Doctor, daughter, dreamer.
6,7, 8.
Stumble, trip. Dust off the bruises, everything's right there.
Did it or didn't it?

Artist, yes? No, no no.
9, 10, 11.
Good girl, clever girl- everything's a, linear formula
It did, it doesn't matter!

Doctor, daughter, do-gooder
12,13,14
Formulas should work, everything's possible if she says it is
It did, it shoudn't have.

Dare-devil, orthoptist, woman
15,16,17
Daunting worlds, challenging stereotypes- everything's okay
It didn't hurt, it doesn't hurt.

wife, mother, student
18,19,20
Toxic innocence and naivity- everything lies.
Numbed by the rush.

mother, wife, stranger
21,22,23
Usurped identity, everything has a bottomless hole.
Violated, hollow

stranger, wanderer, way-farer
24,25, 26
The pendulum strikes the mania, everything's relative
Exposed carbon walls

mother, woman, girl
27,28, 29.
Enough self-loathing- life's too short, everything's fleeting
No evergreens here.

human, mortal, transient
30, 31,32
So many distractions, everything's lucid
Everything's okay.

Sunday, 9 May 2010

Mother's Day Realisations

Happy mother's day to me.

It is true, Islamically speaking, today should be no different to any other day. You see, mother's day in Islam should be every day. There is not a more elevated position than that of mother- as Thomas reminded me some weeks ago, as his mother, Heaven itself is under my foot!

But today, I was patently reminded of just how blessed I am. I know that might sound so cliche, and perhaps it is, but cliches are born from indisputable truths, and the truth of the matter is I am a very lucky woman indeed.

To be the vessel that delivered such incredible people into this world is nothing short of miraculous. Each and every one of them, my children, are special. Each of them adds richness, spirit and beauty to the mosaic that is our world. They are at once my hopes and dreams for what humanity should be and could be. The love, warmth, kindness, compassion and mercy that we all ought to possess. They offer me all of this and more, unconditionally, every day.

So it is only fitting that I pay homage to them, individually, right here.

Wafa, my beautiful daughter, thank you. I am inspired by your strength, humbled by your wisdom, and forever grateful to you for holding my hand through the hardest moments of my life.

Raneem, my beautiful daughter, thank you. I am in awe of your spirit, uplifted by your kindness and forever grateful to you for sharing with me your rainbow-coloured lens with which to behold the world.

Mohamad, my beautiful son, thank you. I am made hopeful by your endless capacity to love, amazed by your boundless ability to forgive, and reassured by the man, the 'rajul' I can see you becoming.

Thomas, my beautiful son, thank you. I am enlivened by your racing mind, heartened by your sensitivity and thankful to you for giving me a second chance.

Eamonn, my beautiful son, thank you. I am overwhelmed by your unconditional affection, entertained by your sharp sense of humour, and comforted by your wilful determination.

Jacob, my beautiful baby, thank you. I am reminded of God's Magnanimity through your very existence, exhilirated by your unquestionable love and made aware of my own humanity by your dependence and fragility.

My dear children, you have changed me, challenged me and moulded me into a better daughter, sister, wife, friend, woman.

Indeed, it is a happy mother's day today as it was all of my yesterdays and, with much anticipation, it will be all of my tomorrows.

With love.

Friday, 19 February 2010

A year ago today...

...my baby was due. The baby that I never got to meet. The baby that grew inside me for such a brief time, yet whose presence filled a void I had not noticed forming, and re-awakened a longing for life that had long been subdued.

A baby who departed at only 12 weeks gestation in the early days of August 2008.

A baby who, I pray, I may meet in the hereafter.

You are remembered, little one... I will love you forever.

'Verily, with hardship there is relief'... (Quran, 94:6)

And then we were blessed with Jacob. 6 months later, we learnt of his existence, and almost a year to the day from our angel's passing, we welcomed him into our lives, alhamdulilah. I thank God everyday for the blessing that he is.

The pain of loss carves wounds that only love can mend. In its place reside the scars, to remind us.

This post is in memory of you, little one.

x

Saturday, 13 February 2010

Love thy neighbour

This morning, I received an unexpected knock at the door. It was our neighbour's sister.

'Good morning', she said. 'We have two wardrobes next door, and we were wondering if you'd like them'.

'Um, thank you. I will send my husband over shortly...*awkward pause*...how is everything going?', I mouth, meaning something far more specific.

She understands, and does not hesitate.

'She passed away on the 4th of January'.

And with that, a life ends, rendered inaccessible, having moved outside the confines of real space and time.

A knot of guilt, shame and regret rises from the pit of my stomach into my throat. But it is useless now.

I never even met her. But for a handful of token neighbourly gestures- a calling card, and a few plates of food, she remained a stranger despite her living not quite 20 metres away.

Shame on me.

Rewind about 6 weeks. We were having a barbeque in our backyard and I'd sent my husband over with a plate for our neighbour. It so happened that our neighbour's sister was visiting at the time. She invited him in, and for the first time since we'd moved here, more than two years earlier, they had a friendly neighbourly chat. It was then we learnt that our neighbour was immobile and terminally ill. She had end-stage lung cancer. Death was imminent.

But, alas, we live in a society in which death is taboo. We do not talk about death, we are discouraged to think about it. And we certainly don't begin a relationship, even a neighbourly one, when death is at the door.

The Prophet Muhammad, may the peace and blessings of Allah be upon him said, 'the best of you is he who is best to his neighbour'.

My religion taught me better, but I failed in my duty towards my neighbour.

Her name was Mary, and she had been a nurse for over 50 years.

...verily we belong to God, and to God we return.

Saturday, 23 January 2010

swish swash swoosh! sings the sea

Our moods, like the ocean's waves, rise and fall, ebb and flow, high tide supersedes low tide.

We are told that it must be so. To appreciate the calm we must endure chaos. Meaning would be lost otherwise.

The world, in all its supersilious glory, offers sufficient distraction for the most part. For the rest of the time, we must face our demons and attempt to endure the pangs with valour, or as the poms would say, with a stiff upper lip. Or face being labelled self-absorbed at best or mentally ill *gasp*- a label no-one would willingly embrace.

Pray, pray, pray. Hope. and Pray.

Today is one of those chaotic days.