Speechless

Last week I was invited to a centennial event at my alma mater as a former journalist and editor of the school newspaper. The event was the opening of an exhibit of the front pages of newspaper throughout the years to see how the Caravan covered major world events. To see how the world's events "changed" over time. To my initial delight then later contemplative dismay, I found my front page article on AUC's commemoration of the terrible events of 9/11. I highlighted how the university set vigil and supported a student union initiative to show their sadness at the lives lost in 9/11.  The article also showed how just a few months before that, the university prevented students from a similar event which was aimed at showing their sadness for the lives lost in the ongoing atrocities right next door in Palestine.
I say my initial delight and later contemplative dismay because 18 years ago I wrote. Eighteen years ago I spoke out at an injustice. Not fearing that I would be misunderstood, not fearing for my safety.
I felt sad that eighteen years later, I cannot articulate what is clear in my mind.
I felt sad that the headlines at the Caravan really did not show an evolution as I first posted on my facebook wall, but in reality it showed a decay of humanity. I realize now that in 2001, we were smack in the middle of that decay. 
I can't really put my thoughts in words. I have not been able to for a while.
Yesterday 9 young men were executed for the alleged assassination of the prosecutor general of Egypt in 2015.
I do not know what to say of the justice system that cannot be trusted. I do not know what to say of the concept of capital punishment so easily carried out. Within four years the men were rounded up, tortured into confessions, given a death sentence and disposed of. I do not know what to say of men who so nonchalantly do away with other souls.
I do not know how to explain this to my children. We teach our children that killing is bad. We teach them that justice is important but do we really have a clear model for justice today?
My facebook wall is a mixture of views. I do not know what to say to the people who justify the murder of 9 men, innocent or not. I do not know what to say to those who are praying on the bodies of their friends. Capital punishment is not a new concept, injustice is not new. But the randomness, lack of clarity of the system, the arbitrary dissemination of cruelty left and right coupled with the systematic propaganda...I just can't.
The connection is there. A prediction could have been made. Through my eyes at the age of 19 I saw the disparity of the value of human life and the blatant acceptance of this on Egyptian land. It has come too close. It has always been close. The words betray me now and I do not know what to say. 

Individual Exploration

1. Read! In the Name of your Lord, Who has created (all that exists),
2. Has created man from a clot (a piece of thick coagulated blood).
3. Read! And your Lord is the Most Generous,
4. Who has taught (the writing) by the pen [the first person to write was Prophet Idrees (Enoch)],
5. Has taught man that which he knew not.
6. Nay! Verily, man does transgress all bounds (in disbelief and evil deed, etc.).
7. Because he considers himself self-sufficient.
8. Surely! Unto your Lord is the return.

The first words uttered in revelation to Prophet Muhammad are the reason Islam is to me, my absolute truth. These first words, revealed to an illiterate man in the center of the desert in Arabia, have a depth of meaning, that in my humble opinion summarizes the basic needs for human survival. Exploration, curiosity, and basic human dignity, are what drive us. 

 

Read! A message sent not to encourage simply conventional literacy, but a term that pushes all human beings to look at life around us, explore, understand and discover more about his creation. The only two absolute truths whether you believe in God or not are creation and death. How these two happen are still a mystery to many, but the fact of the matter is they happen, and this is the first message God chose to send through his last messenger. 

Read and your lord is most generous. The abundance of information and substance for exploration are boundless. An abundance that man-made interpretations, understandings, concepts have restricted. Modern labels tagged to understand human behavior in social settings have limited the basic human instinct to explore and venture forward in God's creation. Clear definitions tend to do that and while exploring and understanding are a basic human right, in attempting to identify and define, the infinite characteristics of this creation is suddenly bound by limited human knowledge. The individuality that my Truth has encouraged, has taken a different shape, I do not necessary care for.  

Recently, I have started to identify my main source of discomfort in my endless quest for understanding. 

Culture. 

A term which I feel has become too absolute to many people. Cultural understanding, a man-made concept, has become so revered that to many they will quash basic human rights to discovery and dignity to uphold these cultural ideals. Ironically, cultural ideals that developed and were defined by people who unknowingly, or knowingly, followed the first piece of advice sent by God through his last messenger. 

Merriam Webster's definitions for culture have terms like,

 the customary beliefs...the characteristic features of everyday existence,

 the set of shared attitudes, values, goals, and practices that characterizes an institution or organization,

 the set of values, conventions, or social practices associated with a particular field, activity, or societal characteristics etc.

Riddled with terms that are rigid and restrictive, when culture becomes too overpowering in the discourse of understanding human behavior, human individuality and relativity begins to take a back seat. As an attempt to observe and understand, cultural understanding can be beneficial, but when given more weight than it deserves, it becomes another form of restriction to the basic human need to explore. 

The only collective absolute truths happen on an individual level. Why do humans so revere the collective understanding of such an individual concept?  

On Strength

Today my middle child, a very spirited little girl, remembered when a waitress called her naughty a year ago. She said, "she called me naughty I think, because I was wearing the Hayah uniform." The situation was that my daughter answered the waitress when she asked her questions, and she did not shy away like most 6 year olds do.
What stood out to me was that my daughter still remembers being called naughty by this random stranger. She also remembers, as she rejects a piece of cake, when people jokingly pat her cute little girl's tummy and say she has a "kirsh".
Since I started learning about child psychology during my undergraduate years and as I started the journey of motherhood, one of the most recurring piece of advice was to be careful what you call your child. Comments, labels and observations shape these  young minds and affect them in ways we may not comprehend.
The truth is human beings are heavily influenced by what people call them. I did not think that a waitress calling my daughter naughty would lead her to think she is naughty. The reality is my daughter has been called naughty and annoying so many times by so many different people that she once told me, "I am annoying, that is who I am, everyone thinks so, so deal with it." As her mother I heard the pain that came with that seemingly strong comment.
Children's minds are constantly working as they skim through all the talk they come across throughout their days. Struggling to understand who they are, they search for cues from people around them. What I realize from experience is how difficult it is to unsay what people around the child are calling them.
There is so little you can protect your children from.
She is an interesting personality. She exudes a false strength which causes more and more people to openly pass their judgements on her thinking they are harmless because she is so strong.
 Strong people often get the short end of the stick. They become easy marks as the general public seems to think they are unfazed by what people think. As a result they are bombarded by other people's thoughts and opinions. They find themselves unwillingly striving to live up to society's expectations. They are forced to think they are strong and should be unfazed. They are forced to accept people calling them naughty and "ghelsa" (annoying) then are expected to put up a strong "I don't care face" when in reality they may be screaming inside.
It is harsh to think of all of this happening inside a 7 year old's mind and her life. The reality is we are all 7 year olds as we face this world. When you deal with people you are forced to filter what they say and what they think of you. That filter can only get filled with so many words and expectations. The next time you see a person who is "strong", at any age, remember their filter and make sure that what you say does not clog that person's filter. 

On Patriotism

    My dad found this old newspaper from when we were living in Bahrain. I made it to the papers a lot when I was living on this small island. The Gulf Daily News, the main newspaper in Bahrain, liked to write about expats who lived in Bahrain. I was the Egyptian voice. There as an American citizen, I was still very vocal and proud of my Egyptian heritage. We were a handful of expats at my school, in my class we were two Egyptians, a Jordanian and two Lebanese students. A group of Rotarian Business men invited two students to come speak to a bunch of businessmen about our experiences as Egyptians. I was one of those two students. I don't remember exactly what my speech said, but I do remember that I made the audience laugh at the right time and nod with understanding at others. I got a standing ovation and one of the businessmen asked me to give him a copy of my speech so he can give it to his Egyptian friend who worked in the embassy. At this time I was 16 years old. 

      I loved Egypt when I was 16 because I loved having my grandmother living in my building and being able to sit with her and go to school with her and listening to stories about her and the rest of the family. I loved Egypt when I was 16 because I was able to visit my other grandmother who lived 10 minutes away and sit with her as she told me her own stories of big houses and gardens and stories that got my father in trouble. I loved Egypt because family gatherings were people who loved each other gathered around a table oblivious to all their differences. I loved being able to drive a few hours and be at a gorgeous beach without a care in the world or hop on a horse and ride for hours in the desert. That was what Egypt was to me.

     Before I found this article, I was looking through a pink box I keep letters. Letters from my friends from when I left the US when I was 11 years old and diaries I kept at the time. The sentiment I felt were completely different. I felt I had left my home when I left New Jersey. I wrote that I missed my friends and school. I wrote that I missed watching the NBA. I had not yet built the family relationships I became so fond of years later. 

      My feelings towards Egypt fluctuated drastically throughout my life. By college the Egyptian flag was everywhere in my room, patriotic songs were always in my head, I will get married and never leave Egypt I used to say. When I went to the US for a visit when I was 18 my cousin had to remind me where I was born because my rhetoric was too anti American (because to be so patriotic I had to be anti American right?). Once I reached that point and actually when my cousin told me that I realized what am I trying to prove? 

     This whole time my parents watched me silently never once commenting on my loyalty or patriotism of one country or the other. The lesson I learned from this journey of understanding nationhood is patriotism can not be forced and, like religion, when it comes from the heart it becomes so precious that it stays there. When you love your country and know why you love it, people making fun of your accent, criticizing your roads, the pollution and lack of organization really doesn't bother you. Because your love to the country is so genuine that you know it has these faults and you may do your best to make changes or you may accept it as it is because that is what gives it its charm. Your efforts to make changes are your own personal shots in the dark and may not be ideal but you know you are doing your best. There is no one way to be patriotic. To some people standing back idly is too much so they start doing what they hope is the best. Doing something generally means someone else is not doing that same thing.  

      Since the revolution began, ideas and judgements of where people's loyalties and how truly patriotic people are lies at the base of our problems now. "This group works for Egypt while this other group works for themselves.""If you truly love Egypt you will vote this way.""Because I love Egypt I will accept this or that.." The comments go on.

      As a mother and a teacher, the number one rule I was told is when dealing with my children's misbehavior, I must be clear when I call them out on something wrong they did. I must clarify that I dislike their behavior but I still love them. In Egypt criticism is not taken with an open heart. You correct an adult you are smacked, you complain in a restaurant you will be asked not to return. For years, about 60 years to be more accurate, the Egyptian general public has been told if you criticize your country you are a traitor and don't even come near your religion because we all know what that makes you. Governed by a military for 60 years uniformity has become a way of life. There is only one way to do something. There is no room for correction. 

     As a result the general public is forced to prove their patriotism because everyone must be patriotic and accepting of everything in the country.  When you are forced to prove something you go all out. You need to point out all the unpatriotic people around you. You may even condone killing them for the sake of your country. You will do all you can to prove to those around you how much you love your country. You will take measures when your family choose to criticize and keep your distance lest they say something that offends you. 

    Patriotism means different things for different people. It is meant to silently unify people under one banner as a reminder of a single goal. But when patriotism becomes a tool used to strengthen one group's cause, it becomes a poison which alienates a nation and divides its people. When you have to scream that you are patriotic and point out that others are not, you really should start questioning how genuine your feelings are. 

    

   

A very newsworthy story that made it to the Gulf Daily News in 1999 when I was a graduating senior in a private high school in what is now the Kingdom of Bahrain.

Palestine

When I moved to Egypt when I was 11.5 years old I was devastated. This place was alien to me. The people spoke differently, their priorities were different, they drove differently, they even slept differently!
I remember when I came people close to me would make fun of my brother and I for answering the phone with "Salam Alaikom", you don't say that they would tell me, you say "Alo", that was the proper way to answer the phone. They made fun of me for saying water and spaghetti with a rolled t because it was not proper english. The driver even made fun of me once because I would keep an apple core in my hand for hours until I find a garbage can rather than throw it in the street. "This is Egypt," he would say, "throw it anywhere".
Worst of all, Egypt, the country only meters away from the one of the holiest places on Earth, is where I saw a hatred towards a people I grew up to admire, love and vowed to fight for. Here is where I heard for the first time that "palestinians sold their land". I heard rhetoric against Palestine that I thought only Israelis were capable of.
The years passed, I grew up and was granted my lifelong dream of visiting Palestine when I was 16. I fell in love with the country, but sadly I was at a stage in life where my passion for the cause took a different shape. While my younger brother, who was 14 then, heard about protests in Hebron he wanted to go join, I was "enjoying the culture" and walking through the streets of Palestine and the occupied lands as a tourist. The fact that I was the only one stopped at every turn because I was veiled didn't bother me, or the way the officer at passport control corrected me when I told her my name was Sarah because I should pronounce it in Hebrew. I was just happy to visit. Although we were stopped at the airport leaving for about an hour, I was the only one not bothered, "they need to go through the security procedures" I rationalized. I was just happy I got to go to Palestine. Living in and around Egypt, somehow put out the flame I had as a child towards the cause.
My childhood was based on the first Intifadha. Our friends were mostly people who had fled Palestine and had uncles, aunts and cousins who were fighting for their lives daily and in constant terror that the Israelis would break into their homes, which they did regularly. Our close friends even attempted to move back to Palestine and ended up in schools for a month where they were forced to learn hebrew and "history" written by the zionists.
Since the '67 war that Egypt fought and lost, a bitterness among the generation that witnessed the war arose and kept growing. Not only did the Egyptian army enter a war for another country, but they lost some of their own land in return. Even the 1973 war did not do anything to abate resentment which instead of being directed towards the leader of the army which was ill trained to enter the war in the first place was poured completely on the occupied people, the Palestinians, who not only lost 78% of their land by then but young men and boys were being thrown into Egyptian prisons and all forms of resistance was being thwarted on all ends. For after all, an Egyptian commander in chief who led the Egyptians out of their own occupation cannot be at fault.
Today, over 400 civilians in Gaza have been killed in one week. Brutally murdered and forced to leave their homes, homes that were originally makeshift homes handed down to them from their grandparents who 60 years ago were forced from their homes around Palestine, never to be given the right to return. Even in 1948, Israeli soldiers called Palestinian civilians and told them to flee for their own safety because terrorists are hiding around their homes, Hamas, the hanger used now, was not even established then. Now lavish Israeli homes and an established country resides over what was once Palestinian land. Slowly the Palestinian map is shrinking and every single time Egypt somehow is complicit. Palestinians run into a brick wall on all sides and not a single neighboring Arab country does more than condemn as they lose more of their land.
In 1992, when I came back to Egypt, I was told by my own relatives that these Palestinians sold their lands. That when the "heroic Egypt stepped in to save them they refused". This is the history that Egyptians are being taught. Because Egyptians do not want to be dragged into another fight. So the facts are shaped to free the general public of guilt. The millions of people living on our borders are not our concern, not only that, but they are now a threat to Egypt and to the Palestinian cause.
My college years restored my flame slowly. By the year 2000 the 2nd Intifada began and I slowly began to realize what living in Egypt has done to the cause in my heart. Today in 2014, the full realization slapped me in the face. The "you're either with us or against us" ideology is what controls Egyptian history and since the Palestinians did not choose the correct government or did not choose the Egyptian path of surrendering to fate and raising the white flag well then too bad for them.
Our prophet taught us that we should be kind to our neighbors. He taught us to support them in their time of need. He taught us that our neighbors are among the first people we should help. He did not say we need to force them to follow our own paths. He said we should support them in the path they have chosen.
Palestinians are our neighbors. As the Israelis push Palestinians off their own land, they will run out of Palestinians to steal from. The next piece of land they will start looking at is just West of them and it is rather appealing to add to the collection. I hope that that piece of information will be taught in our books at a point in time.

Judge or Jury

I wrote this sometime in August 2013.

I will not play judge or jury
for it is not my job.
But fighting for humanity
I know was my God given duty.
When sister stands infront of sister
and pounds her for her choices.
Brother points and shoots at brother
Silencing all their voices.
I will not search for who
is right or point fingers
at who is wrong.
But I will turn my back on bloodshed
To humanity, I remain strong. 

I Use my Pen

This was written sometime in 2013. 

I will not stand in line again
to think a choice! I used my pen
but as it wasn't the popular vote
my hours in line were just a note
a paper to keep the nation amused
while others write down all that we will lose
I will not predict the unpredictable
while people have interests
outside my principles.
That's it, it's final or so I thought
until someone new decides
to call the shots. 

Why you wearing that for?

I took off the Niqab.

How many blogs, editorials, reflections and stories have you read or heard of lately that begin with a line concerning taking off an article of clothing or putting it on for that matter?

Personally I hear it alot. I also experienced it almost a year ago.

I have been places, met people, socialized and everything with and without the niqab. For ten years I endured people making comments at my choices. What color I am wearing, how I wrap the niqab, the fact that I was wearing niqab. Because it was impolite to answer I swallowed the comments with millions of retorts swimming around in my head but a small voice telling me to keep quiet because anything I do say will get them upset or will be misunderstood.

Never mind what I think about the comments made to me, or about me, completely crossing all boundaries and any personal space I may try to build.

I decided I will make my opinions on these comments clear.

 The comments that are made about my choice of clothing when uninvited feel like someone grabbed my purse, opened my wallet and took out all my credit cards and receipts and started commenting on them.

If that is not clear enough.

Comments made about my personal choices, that affect me and only me, are like an unwarranted slap in the face. Statements about whether or not I should wear black, white, long, short, wrap around or throw backs, when not asked for, are all different ways of saying, "you are not as important as I am, you are not as competent as I am, you must listen to my opinion on you, because to you I should be more important than you."

To me clothes are an inconvenience. Not because of anything but the social baggage that automatically accessorizes anything you choose to wear.

I took off the niqab.

I don't remember the exact date, not even the exact month because frankly it isn't a milestone. I still remember 10 years ago to date when I wore the Niqab. I also remember that one of the main reasons I wore it was because I had been thinking about it and didn't want to dwell on something as lame and pointless as clothes.

It took me longer to make the decision to take it off. If I am to be completely honest with myself, the feeling I had that pushed me to make the decision to take the niqab off (which I will not discuss here and probably won't discuss anywhere) were less weighing to me than the comments I would have to endure socially.

Are you still going to wear black?

Wow you're not wearing black anymore. You look much nicer.

Why are you wearing black again? You look so good in colors.

I never had to worry about how I am perceived and what people will tell me before I wore the niqab, apparently as soon as I made the decision 10 years ago to wear it, I was mistaken for a punching bag.

Nonetheless I made the decision and took it off. I went about my daily life with utmost respect to people's personal decisions regardless of my opinions on them. Because of my experience with niqab, I hold my friends and colleagues who chose to remain wearing the niqab and lead successful lives with it in the highest esteem.

Yes I met people who made their mighty observations that this is better for me. People who made their own assumptions and who made up their own stories. I tried to ignore their comments but I did not realize that each of these comments affected me.

I just placed a picture for the first time of myself on Facebook.  I did not think about it at all when I was posting it. I actually had forgotten that I used to wear the niqab and people will comment on my face. It didn't take long for me to remember though because people who I haven't seen in years (probably not even when I was wearing the niqab) commented.

Comments with the connotation that I have emerged from the dark ages are thrown at me with great liberty as if making a choice means I have to be graciously accepting of people's views on the matter.

I wear black. I wear white. I wear the niqab. I wear the hijab. I wake up and dress for MY convenience. I do not need the inconvenience of someone else's validation or lack thereof on how I look.

The prophet PBUH said, "whosoever believes in God and the day of judgement should either say something good or stay quiet."

The Desert Road

I'm tired. But so much happened on this Cairo-Alexandria desert road trip and back that I thought it would be nice to make a comeback with the details while they are still fresh in my mind.
about 10 minutes after we passed the rest stop near a detour where street vendors usually stand, we were met by a welcome party of Mohamed Morsy supporters.
On one side of the road were old men, young men and little boys wearing red t shirts with Morsy's face on it, hats with his name on it, waving flags with his party logo and many holding flyers while standing in the middle of the highway to give us these flyers. It was a carnival and they were clapping and had big smiles on their face. For a moment I thought where are the women? I just had to turn my head and there they were on the other side of the road with their fluttering veils (mostly white), the red flags and the very same smiles. Their excitement increased when they saw me taking pictures.
They are smart, their tactics really reach people in the streets. This is what I thought when I saw the campaigners but my conversations with people in Alexandria proved otherwise. I spoke to my manicurist who complained of lack of ethics and people's reluctance to spend money. She blamed it on the revolution. Then she said the results will come after a complete cleansing of the system, cleaning the roots of the problem. She stood in the election booth as an observer after being paid 500 le by freedom and justice party just to help direct people to the right room. When asked who she will vote for she said Amr Moussa.
I also spoke to our very well read and well educated driver who said he personally likes Hisham El Bastaweesy's plan and the people in his area he says are going for Moussa. "Why?" I asked him. He said when the brotherhood broke all those promises by putting forward Al Shater for president then replacing him with Morsy when he was disqualified they lost the people's trust.
I went to a hospital to visit my father in law and in the reception hall as I waited for the elevator the scattered conversations were all on the elections. The names I heard spoken were Hamdeen Sabbahy and Amr Moussa. One woman was saying, "Hamdeen Sabbahy wa7ed mennena," he's one of us.
So the trip finished and we were on our way back to Cairo when at the Desert Road Toll station the police were standing and two of the security forces in their black uniform were right there at the gate with their big guns in their hands and a very messily sewn patch on their chest of what is supposed to be the Egyptian flag, except that the flag was black on top white in the middle with the falcon and red on the bottom. It was printed upside down. I was so shocked I couldnt get my camera out on time to take a picture. We told them it was upside down they laughed, first said we're sorry we'll fix it and then jokingly said they changed it after the revolution. We passed them and then stopped at what appeared to be a superior to tell him that its a disgrace they would have the flags on upside down, he knew the mistake was there and dismissed it as a printing error, then said, "do you have ur papers." In a move to show us he is still in power.
We then took the road and reached Cairo where we stopped at an Emirate Misr gas station to get food. A new jeep wrangler was parked next to us. It's occupants were a bunch of young women, I'm guessing early 20's. They were dressed in beautiful clean clothes, nicely pressed veils that match their accessories, their longchamp bags, simple diamond rings on their perfectly manicured nails. They were the image of upper class well educated young women having a good time. One of those young women had the car door open and found a tissue on her seat she did not want, with her friend standing outside she looked at her and then threw the tissue on the floor at the gas station. An act of ignorance, poor upbringing and outright filth. I opened my window and asked her to give me what she threw on the floor so I can throw it in the garbage that was about 50 centimeters from our cars and she picked it up gave me a dirty look and actually gave it to me instead of throwing it in the garbage.
So I went and threw it out.

VOTE AGAINST

In the 2000 elections in the US, I had just turned 18. I was finally old enough to have my voice count. Growing up when Bill Clinton was running for president, propaganda in the community I grew up in had us hear repeatedly that Clinton is a pre-Jew basically meaning Clinton bad.
Then in the 2000 elections, George Bush was running against Al Gore with the vice president Joe Leiberman as his running mate. A very superficial teen at the time, I read somewhere that Leiberman was the head of the Zionist lobby in the US and my vote sure as hell was not going to someone killing Palestinians.

So, I voted AGAINST Gore in support of Bush.

Luckily, my ballot didn't go through because of technicalities, my inexperienced teen self couldn't bother to search and find out about the candidates. My young, excited self was just happy to have the chance to vote. My unversed, yet influenced mind was lazily under misinformed notions which allowed me to think I will be doing the Middle East a favor by voting for George W. Bush.

Thinking back to those times, I get nightmares. This is what had me rolling in fear of my second chance at a fresh vote. This time to my real home and nation, the one I live in and raise my children in. Egypt, as a whole, I feel is going through the same emotions I had in 2000.

My friends, who I love and cherish, yet probably may have different political directions than me, are, I fear, making the same mistake.

When voting for a candidate in the parliamentary elections, or the retake, I beg of you, do not use your vote as one against a candidate because while you are voting against someone, you are actually giving someone legislative authority, you are giving him or her your own voice. So whatever this person adds or distracts from the countries laws, in essence so are you. Most of the negative information you have of most of the candidates, is based on propaganda spewed at us from our media. We do not have as much of a chance to get to know our candidates but with as much time as we have we should try to get to know them.

Choose a candidate based on his/her credentials.

Based on what s/he is, not on what s/he's not.

Egyptian Parliamentary Elections

As I search for who I believe will be the most suitable candidate to represent me and every Egyptian with the vast differences between each and everyone of us I feel tired.
I feel overwhelmed with responsibility.
I feel like I'm back in college with the Student Union elections coming up.
Except this time its not about the amount of academic gain versus number of parties the SU will host. It's about peace, development, life and freedom.
Being deprived of all of these for so long I believe we should not mistaken our ability to vote as a privilege. It is actually a responsibility.
That responsibility is what has me panicking as we approach Nov. 28. I don't know how to make my decision. The last two times I took the step to make my voice count I basically blew it because my basis of choice was flawed from the beginning.
Everytime I remember that had I actually sent my ballot in the 2000 US elections I would've been one of the majority who put Bush into office. The reason I was going to vote for him was so lame, I am actually too embarrassed to reveal it in public.
The next time I voted I fully supported and backed one candidate over another in the Student Union elections simply because he was a friend of mine. Of course back then I had convinced myself and everyone around me it was because I truly believed in his capabilities. The truth is the candidate who lost and the one I did not support had a much better plan, better track record and would've been the better candidate.
This time I am on my own. I could take the easy way out and simply support the one candidate that the people around me support.There are so many opinions out there as to who will be the best representative in the parliament.
But there aren't enough plans out there to read. For some reason I can't seem to find information on all the candidates. Those who are not Internet friendly and simply take to the streets are different from the candidates who have all their activities online.
The media is so subjective that none of the mainstream papers or tv channels will give fair representation of the candidates. There are no debates to see candidates in front of each other and the whole process is confusing. Even the pages which explain the process are not all that telling.
The responsibility is overwhelming and as a friend of mine said, its as if we are being bullied into having a political opinion.
This time though I want to do things right.
I don't however know what the right thing to do is.
Voting is like parenting, you take a shot in the dark based on the books, (there are so many books with conflicting opinions you have to simply choose what makes most sense to you) or just do what your parents did before you.
At this point I can think of about 5 different conspiracies to put down as I struggle to study for the Nov. 28 test. But I won't go into them because now is not the time.
Is our time and effort worth spending for the unknown?
I truly do not know the answer to this.
One thing I do know from my experience with elections is they cause divisions. They cause hatred and anger between people. Splits and divisions that, in my opinion, SCAF has succeeded in nurturing between the people since Feb. 11.
So for the elections, if we do our research and manage to find anything, we will see that the goals are the same, the mission is one and action at this point is for the good of society. People may differ in their opinions of what is good, which is why we need to search well to find the proper representative of all these different people. BUT we need to remember that the days of personal gain on our account needs to come to an end, so let us not be puppets and fall into the trap of our inadequate media, ignorant gossip and do the work ourselves.

Its none of your business

I'm sitting at a cafe with my baby daughter Aisha. She's 14 months old. She's in a good mood so she's grabbing everyone's attention. I have my laptop, working and every now and then someone walks over to play with Aisha.
Aisha is wearing a long sleeve cotton shirt, pants and socks and sneakers.
It's September.
I am, as you all know, dressed in black and my face is covered.
A woman walks over and she's playing with Aisha, asks what her name is and then says, "and she's wearing long sleeves and stuff (about Aisha)." So I say yeah it was chilly this morning and I didn't want her to catch a cold.
So in an extremely judgemental, know it all tone she says, "yeah asl she's way too young for you to cover her up like that."
I smiled and let it go.
This happened 5 minutes ago. I am FURIOUS.
The woman decided she has the right to a) give her opinion on how I should raise my child and b) automatically assume I would dress my FOURTEEN MONTH OLD BABY in a conservative fashion because she's a girl.
And most importantly I am furious at myself for feeling the need to explain myself to a complete stranger because I chose to dress my daughter a certain way, regardless of the reason.
When will people learn to mind their own business?
When will people realize they can not automatically assume certain people will think and act a certain way because of the way they are dressed.
I really wish that woman somehow stumbles upon this blog and realizes that it is not her place to comment on how a mother chooses to dress her daughter or son. Judging is one thing, it is between you and yourself. I believe it's still wrong. But you don't affect anyone until you start acting upon your judgement.
I AM SO ANNOYED!

Freedom Drivers

I visited Saudi Arabia recently, mid-May to be precise. It wasn't my first visit there. But it was my first time as a mother.
My family and I were going for Omra in Mecca, the smaller pilgrimage, and for a one day visit to our friends in Jeddah.
Previously I never thought much of the law against women driving. I figured it was a cultural thing, the women are used to it and that's it.
I never really felt it when I went for Omra except once when I was with my parents. We stopped at a rest house somewhere between Riyadh and Mecca and my brother and father were in the bathroom. My mom and I were waiting in the car. I think I was about 13 then, dreaming of the day I will grow up and drive, so I would jump at the chance to move the car even an inch or two forward or back.
The steering wheel called so I got in the front and my mom said, "don't even think about it, here they can put u and me in jail for just getting behind the wheel."
I thought it was weird and wrong but it's a law and we have to respect the laws of countries we are visiting.
The few trips we had afterwards were to Mecca and Madinah and there I never really got in a car except to and from the airport so we never felt the strain of women not being allowed to drive. We were tourists who got in a cab whenever we pleased.
(The perk of being a tourist anywhere you dont have to worry about driving in traffic or parking.)
However, this last trip which took place May 9th to May 12th was different. We visited friends of ours who had just moved to Jeddah.
I never knew the chain tied to a woman's ankle until I saw the constraints placed simply because she is not allowed to drive.
Once a very productive woman who organized her time, drove her daughter to school, got the grocery shopping done and went to work in the middle of all that, now must arrange her time to suit either her husband or a bus.
It isn't a problem for the women who have drivers and maids at their bec and call. The problem is with the average working class.
Women not being allowed to drive means spending at least 100 to 150 Riyals a day on taxis, which are not too safe for women to take on their own to begin with. Either that or the woman must wait for her husband to return from work, if he feels like it, so she can take a quick trip to the supermarket. She must rush before the shops close half an hour before and half an hour after each prayer. Which leaves her about an hour in between to do all the shopping she needs.
In general the country doesn't even work except for an average of 6 hours a day. Two hours in the morning from 10 to 12. Or really till 11:30 because the shops close for the noon prayer. Then they open again at 5, closing down at 6:30 in preperation for the evening (maghreb prayer). They open up again around 7:30 and shut down around 8 for the night time prayer (Ishaa). And open up again for two hours at around 8:30, 8:45 before they close for the night at around 11.
Life for women there is close to the life of a Palestinian in Gaza, governed by curfew.
While many people believe the right for women to drive is a small, insignificant problem compared to many other problems they have taken away from them, the truth is once it is solved many other problems will also be solved.
In war zones, in order to control the enemy, the governing body automatically places a curfew.
Women not being allowed to drive is their own curfew against them.
As a reminder, during the prophet Muhammad (PBUH)'s time, women travelled around the city on their own. There were no stories of women chained to their husbands, fathers or brothers. Women were productive members and leaders of their society.
It seems to me there is a fear by the governing men that the days of the Prophet will return to us and women will become active members once again.

Line Obsession

I was at the police station making a passport for Aisha who's 8 and a half months and she was with me.
It was one of the hottest days, if not the hottest day in spring. Going I knew the temperature was 38 degrees celsius. For some reason the place was packed.
Aisha's fascination with paper doesn't make it easy to fill out her passport application. Perched on my left lap with the paper on my right a pen in my hand, my backpack on the floor between my legs and squeezed between three women with children talking over me. I try to fill out the application with three different addresses I attempt an even bolder feat and succeed. I take out my passport and Karim's ID to see the exact addresses used.
Balancing everything I manage to finish with a few minor mistakes here and there. I go into the official's office to get an approval and find out something is missing. So he, seemingly annoyed, hands me the application and points out what's missing and I ask him if I can complete it in his office. Like a parent who begrudgingly must approve of something, he lets me sit.
He keeps calling me Mama which is annoying.
Aisha is happy at the chance to pull at the paper again.
I fill out what needs to be filled out he glances at my eyes to make sure its me and tells me to go to window 5.
For a moment I'm happy this is almost over.
Window 5 is a line for women. The woman behind the counter is very very slow. I realize this approaching the line because it is so long.
The place is packed (I said that before). The rows of benches interrupting every line. I walked up to the line and infront of me a mother is carrying her 2 year old son. He is smiling and ready to play with anyone . He wants to play with Aisha, then play peek-a-boo with me and his mom was also very friendly.
While we were playing a woman walks up to the line and stands in front of me and the woman. I tell her, excuse me there is a line. She says yes I know and just stands there. So I tell her you're behind me. She says I know I know I aggressively tell her please go to the back of the line now. She says ok and goes and I continue to play with Daniel (We are on first name basis with the children now) and another woman comes and stands in front of me. Daniel's mom tells me the woman was there before I came and she had to go photocopy something.
Normally in line etiquette if you leave the line thats it. You start over.
I'm obsessed. I know.
But this time I decided not to say anything.
Aisha got heavy, the line behind me was growing and the people were pushing me into the people in front of me.
Meanwhile at the window a girl was debating with her mom and the official about which picture looks nicer.
Everyone seemed happy for some reason. I was getting more and more annoyed but I didn't want to seem rude, which I'm sure I already did because of the line thing (I tried to organize the line at a point in time).
The girl with the picture left.
Then a man went up to the window. So I asked the people standing, who that is.
They ALL said don't worry he's with the hagga.
So I let it go.
Then it was Daniel and his mom's turn. Aisha started crying.
It was hot and she wanted to drink.
It was stuffy. She wanted to leave.
So did I.
So the woman behind the counter, who I was by then annoyed at because she's so slow, said she would take me first because of the baby.
They told her it was my turn anyway. Of course the woman who went to photocopy her paper was standing and didn't say anything and so I had my papers done and needed to photocopy stuff (why they don't tell you that when they hand you the application I still don't understand.)
I went to photocopy my stuff.
Another line.
I'm not stuck to the guy in front of me. We are in a makeshift room under the staircase of a building. Another person decides to cut in front of me. (Maybe I have it written on my back "cut in front of me"). So I tell him there's a line.
Like everytime, the answer is I know I know.
I went back and kept thinking I don't want to be a hypocrite. I have to stand in the even LONGER line!
Hoping with all my heart there is a way out. Annoyed with myself at having principles, a woman says 3addy ya binty i7na mewaf2een inty ma3aky el baby.
So I rush to the front of the line. Give my papers, pay and leave and as I'm leaving I'm thanking everyone but they are not really answering.
I realized our people (Egyptians) don't know how to stand in line. Are no where near organized beyesta3bato everyone around them.
But in the end the kindness is constant.
This time I left embarrassed at myself wondreing when should one speak up and when should one shut up?

It's a cycle

It really is. I've had children for a little over 5 years now. Every year there are days I have absolutely nothing to do. Because of my children I can't just up and do anything I want. At the same time nothing within the realm of my lifestyle is available for me to do. Then there are days that I have SO MUCH to do but am tied down because one of my kids is sick. I finally started a routine. My house is clean and tidy. My kids have school and practice. I have the dinner schedule down and my time is organized. Which cleared up so much time for me to do the extra stuff that makes me feel normal a human being in our society. I opened up my calendar last Wednesday and filled in all the days. I looked at it and was proud that for once my engagements were adult oriented. Last week, my older daughter had to stay home. It was fine because I knew she'll be going back inshalla. It was a pleasant time to spend with her. So Wednesday, the week ended and I was happy to have stuff to fill my calendar with. Then Thursday my baby daughter got the chicken pox. So I had to stay home with her. Now this week, I still have to stay home and my older daughter got sick again and had to stay home with strep throat. I guess its good to embrace the extra time I am given. A chance to catch up on my writing maybe. A chance to teach myself how to spend time with myself effectively. It's definitely a disciplining experience. A lesson on patience and on surrendering to the will of God. That no matter how you plan and schedule someone else has other plans for you. However, I don't intend on giving up completely. I submit. But I work on this Earth and answer to a boss. I make my own calls and go back to Him for guidance. If things are ok they are smooth. If not something gets diverted and I go along with it. Especially if its out of my hands!

I am a woman!

I wear the face veil. It's no secret. The reason for me wearing it has changed since I put it on. I do not wish to discuss the reasons simply because it's personal. But what I will discuss is the reactions I get from random people, mainly men, and how I rehearsed repeatedly how I will respond to those late 50 early 60 year old men when they throw their opinions of my worthlessness. I have also wondered why it matters to me that I show them they are wrong. The only thing I can think of is that while they call themselves intellectual they deny one of the main principles of intellect which is knowing that their truth is not ultimate. That is something I feel they need to know. So, I walked into a book store in the Club. A man sneezed in the line in front of me when we were waiting to pay. I told him bless you, in Arabic. "Yarhamakom Allah." Which literarly means May God have mercy on you. So he turned around to respond with the regular response, "And on you too." When he saw me he continued and may God have mercy on us all and rid us of the likes of you. "Wa yer7amna mennoko." A whole dialogue went on. It was a friendly one because I chose not to take his first comment to heart. His arguments were the typical, you will scare away the tourists. You are all ignorant. You are useless to the society. With each answer I gave him he would hear first what he wanted to hear. You will scare away the tourists. I said, "I won't affect the tourism, I want it to flourish." He answered, "what you don't want us to have tourism?" You are useless to society. "I am a writer, I work from home," I said. He responded what you think you have to stay home? Then came the final blow. You will not be equal to men. I said no I am equal to man, if not better. By the look on his face he thought I was crazy. I told him I can bear children but men can not. I have always admired Sojourner Truth, a feminist as well as civil rights activist. Specifically her Aint I a Woman speech. "...That man over there says that women need to be helped into carriages, and lifted over ditches, and to have the best place everywhere. Nobody every helps me into carriages or over mud puddles, or gives me any best place! And ain't I a woman? Look at me! Look at my arm! I have ploughed and planted and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! And ain't I a woman? I could work as much and eat as much as a man-when I could get it-and bear the lash as well! And ain't I a woman? I have borne thirtheen children, and seen most all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my mother's grief, none but Jesus heard me! And ain't I a woman?.." I summed up the discussion by telling him, it is my personal right and freedom to wear what I want when I want. I can choose to show whoever I want my face or not. Equality, is thrown in our faces only when it suits most men. But when it comes down to it, most of the men who shake their heads at me and show their disgust with my choices want us to go back to those days. The days where women needed to be helped up carriages.

Let's go to the Mall (part 1)

Although I like to spend money (who doesn't?) I hate going shopping! But I do love it when I buy new things. It's the process of shopping that I detest. Especially when it involves the mall.
This I learned very recently about myself. First I attributed my dislike of the mall to my children. I thought its usually really tiring because they get bored and it takes too long. So I stopped taking the kids and still I end my trips to the mall with great dissatisfaction. So I attributed it to the difficulty in finding something that fit nicely. Then I found the stores that have clothes that fit me nicely. So I attributed my unhappiness to the never ending crowd that makes the mall hot and hard to move around in. Then I decided to go in the mornings. It was fine but I realized it never ends up being one trip because I always have to return something or change the size.

And then this morning, in Ramadan, at 10:30 am I went to City Stars. It usually opens its gates at 10 am. I figured it's a mall, it's not going to change its opening times for Ramadan, what about the tourists and people staying at the hotel. So I walked in and all the stores except for Spinney's, the hyper market, were closed. Apparently, the store open in Ramadan at 11. That made me angry for reasons I will discuss in another blog. But I decided to go into Spinney's and buy a few things I needed then I would go to the store I came to go to. I was there to return something I had bought a week earlier.
So I was done with Spinney's and by the time I reached the store, The Tie Shop, the door was half open and a the lights were on and a woman was mopping the floor. So I was going in and she told me they haven't opened yet. It was 10:50 am. She told me to come back half an hour later. I told her I was only there to return something and she said they haven't opened and to please come back in half an hour so I tried to find something to do and couldn't and I went back to the store. The woman was done mopping and was sitting in the store doing absolutely nothing and it was 11 am already. But still they haven't opened yet.
My baby daughter who I had to drag with me started crying because she was hungry so I decided to go feed her in the bathroom and return to the store. I did that and was back by 11:30 am. There were now two store clerks, one of which was the woman mopping earlier, and they were both in uniform. I gave them the receipt and the item I wanted to return and they told me they couldn't return it because they didn't have any cash with them. I had to wait until someone bought something so they can pay me back. I told them they have to deal with it it's not my problem and they said it's not there problem either!
I left fuming and went to pay the parking fee. I gave the man at the desk a 100 LE bill and he didn't have change and he said I should go around the whole mall searching for change. He returned my ticket and I was stuck in the mall unless I found some change. That is when I blew up and demanded my right to leave and pay with the money I have. He gave me 50 le worth of 1 le coins with a dirty look on top.

And now I realize why I don't like shopping. This country has no concept whatsoever of customer service. Every trip to the mall is a step onto a battle ground. The customer is always wrong. It all feeds into the poor work ethic we have here. No proper training, and an awful attitude towards life in general is what nurtures our under development.

New Baby

Elhamdolilla three weeks and a half ago my family and I welcomed our new little girl, Aisha, into the world.
So now they are three little rascals at home. Which I love and thank God for everyday. Especially when they are asleep.
Every night and day it's the same thing. The two older ones, Abdulrahman and Halima wake up at 6 am. They start their wants and nags and fights. It keeps going all day until 8 pm comes and they reach their peak crying and screaming and acting crazy because they are too tired. After battles they finally go to sleep. Their baby sister then starts her daily colic episodes where she screams nonstop. I give her her medicine and then all three are asleep.
That is when I feel I miss my kids! I feel tomorrow will be a new day. I will be more patient with them and have more fun with them and try to be a better mother.
Then the day starts all over again. The same way. They nag and cry and scream and I lose my temper and scream until the day ends.
It's really weird. As much as they are hard work and sometimes impossible to handle, I still can not imagine what I would do without them. Every day the hope remains that I become more patient and we become friends.
And to think at a point in time I thought I wanted a family like the one in the book cheaper by the dozen!

Child Friendly Place of Worship, I want!

It's been a really long time since I've actually been to a masjid. The few times I did go to pray were at times I knew it wouldn't be crowded as a treat for my children.
Recently I've been wondering why masjids here in Egypt are not child friendly, or even people friendly. I was watching a TV show, that I rarely watch because it is always showing how backward we as Arabs are and it does get too tiring to see negative images of yourself, and today's episode he was showing masjids in Singapore as opposed to our Arab masjids.
The masjid in Singapore had a PLAY AREA!!!!!!!!!! It had sign up sheets for lessons that teenagers and children can attend, like classroom style. It had a full staff with a head and HR manager and the works. It was clean and fresh, sort of like our typical nady here but from the masjid. It even had a family prayer room.
I never thought of praying to be a family activity.
The bathrooms had toilets that are for adults and smaller ones for the children. Beautiful! The children themselves looked happy to be at the masjid. It makes you feel like you want to head to your neighborhood masjid and do something about it.
The most common complaint I hear about the women's section during tarawee7 or the Friday prayers is the children make too much noise. "Women should stay at home and its too much for the kids," is what most people repeat every year. "It's better for women to pray at home."
Really, we go everywhere all the time. Women are always going out and now we are the ones who take our children everywhere. Why are we still denied a basic right to enter a masjid whenever we please for fear of our children disturbing everyone?
I remember my childhood always being around the masjid in the US. Even my school was there and I remember we had so much fun at night. Sometimes we'd pray the tarawee7 and sometimes we had our sleeping bags and there was a room where my friends and I would sleep while our parents were praying. We looked forward to our trips there.
My kids enjoy it now. But my husband and I are always worried they may bother other people around them. And how long will this enjoyment last if we are always telling them to be quiet and stay close to us.
The government is always worried that masjids are breeding grounds for terrorists. If masjids all had to have an infrastructure like the one in Singapore, then people would gather there instead of closed houses and alleys. It would be a nady but more wholesome! Then everyone can enjoy a nice spiritual trip to the nearest place of worship. Even those poor souls with infants and newborn babies :)

Inshalla Time

From what I've seen, when foreigners come to Egypt or this part of the world one of their most common complaints is the lack of respect for time. They even have a phrase for that. "Inshalla Time". When I heard that at first I laughed but after thinking about it, I became saddened. The term inshalla time is just another piece of proof as to how much people misuse their religion and butcher a perfect religion. Also another tool people use to attack an otherwise perfect concept.
A term that was taught to us in order to rid an over successful society of arrogance has instead been turned into an excuse to being lazy.
When the term Inshalla was mentioned in the Quran, it was in the chapter, "The Cave". The story behind it was the Prophet (PBUH) was asked by some people about the story of the men who slept in the cave for over 300 years. He confidently said "I will tell you the story tomorrow." About two weeks past before the Angel came to Prophet Muhammad with the story and people had started challenging him. He thought it was because of his personal shortcomings and was very pained and saddened thinking he must have done something wrong. Then the chapter of "the cave" was revealed with the verse saying "do not say you will do this tomorrow except if God is willing."
This verse reminds people that there are two sides to action and getting things done, the first is taking action and the second part is knowing that with the action you take you must know that things will get done only by God's will.
Some people have now interpreted "Inshalla" as a way to hang their own laziness on God's will.
Inshalla by no means means we can be late to everything or not fulfill a certain committment. It is merely a reminder that you should work hard and do your part but know that what you do is all by God's will. It is a lesson in knowing you have control but not total control. However, a balance is important you must do the work in order for things to get done and when they get done you know that it is by the will of God.
In Egypt so many aspects of daily life are out of our hands. Traffic can suddenly stop because someone decided they needed extra security. The electricity can shut down freezing a whole companies operation. Anything can happen, so people say inshalla knowing that somethings are out of their hands. It would help to put these things into consideration when dealing with time in order to bring the term back to its original context.
It's up to us to change the perception of "Inshalla time" to a positive one again.