[ Tuesday, May 29, 2007 ]
Moved!Blogger has been wonderful the past number of years, but I decided to move in hopes that a new website would encourage me to write more often. My new blog can be found
here. Enjoy!
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[ Saturday, December 23, 2006 ]
Run in at SafewaySo, I'm standing in the produce section at Safeway since most of our food tends to come from there. Usually I find that to be the most annoying part of grocery shopping so I go to that section first to get it over with. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that it requires me to pick out the best vegetables and get my hands wet and cold when putting cilantro and squash in the plastic bags.
As I approach my cart and put my hand on the bar to wheel it away, an old white guy gets close enough that I start feeling very uncomfortable, and he has the nerve to place his hand on
my cart. I stand there for a few awkward seconds trying to stare him down, waiting impatiently for him to ask the stereotypical questions I'm used to getting from men like him. But he won't even look me in the eye. Not knowing what else to say, I gruffly say "hi" in a tone that sounds more like I'm saying, "What the hell's your problem?!?!"
"It's mine," he says simply, and I look down at the unfamiliar food in my cart. Deeply embarrassed, I quickly apologize, find my real cart and make it out of the produce section, hoping I won't run into him while I do my other shopping.
Clearly, I also have stereotypes.
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March of the PenguinsMe (while watching a clip of March of the Penguins): WOW, Uncle! While the female is out eating fish, the male penguins go without food for
three months and they huddle together to keep the eggs warm! Some of them even end up dying.
Uncle (to his wife): That's it, I'm feeling hungry now. Can you fix me something to eat?
Aunt (shakes her head and points to tv): Look at that and just look at you.
[It sounds much funnier in Hindko]
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[ Thursday, December 07, 2006 ]
Shame"You should put your cheera on your head. You're going to catch a cold."
"No!" I yell in my head. "I don't want to because 1) I wear hijab all day long and want to be able to give my head a rest when I get home at the end of the day; 2) I know this is probably another one of your superstitions; and 3) I don't want to get into another argument with you about how it's a cultural understanding, not a religious one, that requires covering the head at home." But instead, I just frown and say, "I already
have a cold." I'm too tired to make any real arguments at this point.
"You know, the house is really dirty," she tells me, and I brace myself for the long list I know she is going to rattle off to me—and then repeat. She starts by telling me about the chores she has accomplished that day, such as doing the laundry, part of which was washing Daddy's jacket. I can feel myself tuning out at this point. She ignores my obvious boredom and silence and continues now talking about how the
outside of the house is so messy. At this point, I can feel the irritation boiling up within me and I know that any minute now, I'm going to yell about how I don't care. About how I have final exams to worry about—about how I need to memorize anatomy terms, catch up on Genetics, and start studying for my ethnobotany class. I'm tired and hungry, and I'm impatient to finish dinner and get some work done.
But then I hear her explain that earlier today, she was outside in front of the house raking leaves off the sidewalk. Mrs. F, the neighbor from a couple of houses down, stopped to talk to her on her way to the visit our other neighbor. I'm all ears now. Mrs. F saw her struggling and helped her pick up the bundles of leaves to dump into the green compost bin.
And as Ummy tells me this, I start to feel ashamed. I am grateful that we have such nice neighbors, but also sad that my mom would have to rely on someone else to help her. Because no one else was home. Because even when we are home, we are never really present. Because I finally understand that she isn't just listing off chores that she has accomplished through the day—chores that I am arrogant and ungrateful enough to deem insignificant.
I finish the vegetables on my plate, and tell her that the soup is yummy, but is once again too spicy for me to eat. She made it yesterday but Daddy didn't like it and left it unfinished at the table, so she added more spices and vegetables to it today to make it tastier. I keep telling her about how great the vegetables tasted, but it's no use. The damage is done.
She puts her salad fork down and gives up on dinner when she sees that Daddy is still not coming to the dinner table. "Five more minutes," he keeps insisting, as he listens to the radio program about Palestine. I can hear it blaring from his bedroom, and I refuse to feel guilty about eating without him. But Ummy does. "I've been cooking since 4pm, and I just wanted us to have dinner all together." She sighs.
Sometimes I think we're each living in our own worlds.
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[ Thursday, November 30, 2006 ]
Saying goodbye is always hard
Today was the last official day of my internship at the nursery school in Richmond. Technically, I've completed the required hours for my class program, but I plan to continue next semester. I'm taking a break for finals studying, but I should be back in a few weeks. Meanwhile, I'm going to miss these kids.
-I had to laugh at C, who ran around class with a doll strapped to her belly and a skirt on her head, saying she was a pregnant princess.
-R is doing so much better than when I first met him. Sadly, I used to be kind of intimidated by this five-year-old, but now he is on meds that restrain him. I don't like the idea of young children being on such meds, but I can see how much they've improved his behavior and concentration.
-A was having another silent day, where he had a hard time communicating and playing with other kids. However, he did have fun hiding behind me, underneath my long coat.
-During lunch today, everyone decided to sing their own renditions of "Who Let the Dogs Out."
-The other A told me he hated me today, but I've gotten used to his remarks and don't take them seriously. Sometimes he just needs his space. On days where he decides to wear the princess skirt, takes on a "mom" role, and runs around calling the girls "girlfriend," I can't help but laugh.
-I had fun swinging the little four-year-old, I, around. She's the newest and shyest kid, and it takes so much to get her to talk or even smile, so when she does, it's always a treat.
-S made my day by making me sand donuts in the sand box. "They have all the sugars!" she said excitedly. Clearly, she knows the way to my heart! (Incidentally, my dentist told me today that I don't have any cavities...so, I celebrated with more chocolate! Woot!)
-Towards the end of class, D barely budged from my lap. He has this thing about sucking his left thumb and with his right hand, grabbing the ear of the person whose lap he's sitting in. It's a comfort thing, I suppose. It never quite works with me since my hijab is always covering my ears. In any case, we had fun making his "mom" with the Mr. Potato Head, though at first he didn't want to because he said Mr. Potato Head was too ugly. But, he gave her buff purple arms and a red purse specifically to match her red ear. I had to keep reassuring him that I would be coming back, and I felt guilty.
Anyway, the next two weeks are going to be painful. Please make dua that I do well on my finals and ace my classes!
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[ Sunday, October 22, 2006 ]
Uncle Jerry Last week we got a phone call that Uncle Jerry had passed away. His Muslim name was Abdul Hameed, but he was not a Muslim. He was my great uncle's son (my parents' first cousin) and half white and half Pakistani. When my dad came to the U.S. at the age of seventeen on a student visa, he lived with my great uncle's family.
At one time, Uncle Jerry lived down the street from my aunts in West Sacramento. He used to stop by their homes on rare occasions. I remember seeing him there once. My aunts used to love it when he'd stop by, because they respected his father. It was because of Uncle Jerry's father that they were indirectly able to come to the U.S. Unfortunately, we all lost touch with Uncle Jerry, as well as his brothers and sisters, who did not seem to want much to do with him anyway. Uncle Jerry's wife had died last year from diabetes, and their two sons, now ages 13 and 17, had left California to live with their half-brother (from their mom's side). The older son had some issues with his half-brother, so he had returned to California, and is now living with a pastor's family and doing odd jobs, while the pastor is encouraging him to get a high school diploma. Uncle Jerry knew the pastor because the pastor headed some rehabilitation programs. But by now, Uncle Jerry did not even have a home, and was staying at a friend's house when he died from a massive heart attack. We found out about it when the older son and his older half-sister showed up to my aunt's house, telling us about it.
My uncle and my dad have taken over the responsibilities for Uncle Jerry's burial, because otherwise he would be cremated. This is different from any other funeral arrangements our family has made in the past, because he won't be buried in a Muslim cemetery, nor have a janaza, and we are having the pastor do some sort of service. I am hoping it's on Wednesday so I can attend it. We are also trying to contact Uncle Jerry's brothers and sisters, who we have not been in touch with for years.
The news of Uncle Jerry's death has hit home on so many levels. As I was telling my dad, I can't help but think that we failed Uncle Jerry and his family. But me dad explains that there was not much we could do, and the Muslim community was not as established when Uncle Jerry was growing up, as it is now for us. My great uncle left Pakistan at the age of twelve or thirteen and traveled the world before coming to California. He married a nonMuslim, and it was difficult for him to practice Islam himself, let alone teach his children about it. I keep wishing that there were more Muslim rehabilitation programs...maybe that would've made Uncle Jerry turn to Muslims for help, rather than a church. I asked my dad why his own brothers and sisters did not help him, but my dad responded with something that hit really close to home, that I had been trying not to think about.
It's crazy knowing that I have cousins I never knew about, who are related to me just as closely as my other ones I grew up with. I wish I could pray for Uncle Jerry, but because he was not Muslim, I am left simply praying for his children. It's sad thinking that Islam was gone for this family within one generation. I kept thinking about that last night, as I was praying at Zaytuna, and couldn't help but cry. What makes me so special that I am a Muslim, and my cousins aren't? I did nothing to be blessed with Islam. And why is it that people who are born and raised as Muslims turn around and reject Islam? What will happen to their children? That is one of my greatest fears.
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[ Wednesday, October 11, 2006 ]
MSA Fast-a-Thon!
Today was the MSA's 4th annual Fast-a-Thon and alhamdulillah it was a success! My sister made my day by showing up with CAIR's Ramadan booklets, which were really professionally done. About 250 pledges were collected from nonMuslims who fasted for a day so that local business would donate money to
Doctors Without Borders. There are still more pledges to be collected from individuals who fasted but did not turn in their pledges or come to the iftar.
The event was well organized with a short speech from the Vice President about the significance of Ramadan. I loved how she connected it to fasting in other religious traditions, such as Yom Kippur for Jews, and Lent for Christians, citing their own sources. She also talked about the biological consequences of fasting (Yes, we bio majors find these things interesting!). Normally, we take in toxins that are stored in our fatty acid tissues, and by fasting, we burn up these fatty reserves, which means that we are in fact literally purifying our bodies. We always heard about how Ramadan is a way of purifying ourselves, and it was cool to hear about the literal biological means of it. She also talked about global poverty and disparities and how fasting allows us the opportunity to get a glimpse of what it must feel like to be hungry not only for food, but also for clothing, education, shelter, and justice. Masha Allah, I was really proud of her. She represented the MSA very well! After her, the community service committee heads gave a presentation on Doctors Without Borders. I was really glad they did that because it shows that Muslims are concerned about these issues, it also educated everyone about this organization and the amazing work they do (They received the 1999 Peace Prize for their work in several continents), and also made the Fast-a-Thon an event that wasn't just about Ramadan (which was important for those who fasted purely because they wanted to support a charitable cause).
A number of my nonMuslim friends fasted this year, though not all of them were able to make it to the iftar. My Mexican friend called me up in the middle of the day and said he wasn't feeling well and was studying for a midterm, and I told him to break his fast since he shouldn't have been fasting if he was ill. My Indian friend, who was also one of my models for the charity fashion show I had designed for last Spring, also fasted. My Filipino Catholic friend fasted, and brought along two of his friends for the iftar as well. I'm not sure if they had fasted or not, but he said that it was only because they had made suhoor for him that he was able to make it through the day. I had to laugh because only yesterday when I handed him the pledge form did it dawn on him that he wouldn't be able to eat. "Can't I even eat a little bit?" he asked. Well, alhamdulillah he made it through the day!
I was also surprised to see one of my interviewers for a campus biology program standing in line for the food, and when I asked him how his fasting had gone, he said it wasn't too bad, because he had actually been fasting the past couple of weeks to prepare for it. I told him he should come to the regular iftars, and he said he had heard about them and might come. I'm curious to find out why he's been fasting and whether or not he's interested in Islam. The funny thing is that when I first met him at my interview, there was just something about him that for a moment made me wonder if he was Muslim. I guess his short goatie and good adab gave me that feeling, though I can't really describe it.
My Catholic, Italian art buddy also fasted. She's in my oil painting class so I see her 2-3 times a week for a good few hours at a time. We sat next to each other last semester in our intro to art class and as soon as we realized we both like Turkish music, we became good friends. She always tells me that she doesn't know what she'd do if she hadn't met me, because she feels as if she's learned so much about Muslims and Islam, and can’t help but cringe at the ignorance of her swimming teammates, who seem to not care too much about learning about other cultures. She wanted to fast today but she has swimming practice every day except Wednesdays. She came to the iftar today, and intends to fast tomorrow instead. I'm supposed to give her a wake-up call for suhoor. She said the iftar today pumped her up, and she's glad we have class together tomorrow, because we're supposed to support each other through the day until iftar. This girl is in love with dates, which I find pretty funny. She's been to a couple of iftars with me and has met many of the Muslims in the MSA, and can't get over how nice everyone is. She heard the adhan for the first time today and was telling me about how pretty it sounded to her. And after the lectures when a brother said "Peace be with you" she got excited and told me about how Catholics also say something similar during their services. She joined us for gelato at the Naia lounge after the Fast-a-Thon iftar, and later she was excited to have my sister demonstrate wrapping her headwrap. She's been waiting to learn how to do a headwrap for the longest time because she says that it'll help her keep her hair out of her face when she's painting in the summer.
So alhamdulillah, it was a great day!
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[ Thursday, September 21, 2006 ]
In love with my internship! Today was my first day interning at a therapeutic nursery school in Richmond. There are nine students at this school, though there were only seven children there today. The school is for two and a half to five year olds, but most of the children seem to be around four or five years old. Although I knew that this is a special nursery school for children coming from traumatic pasts and dealing with emotional and behavioral issues, I was not told about each child's background history before meeting and spending the day with them. It was only after the children had left that one of the three therapists/psychologist "caregivers" (teachers) there gave me a brief description of each child's history and answered my questions.
My primary tasks are to play with the children and help with set up and clean up. At times it seemed like I was in any other nursery school. Many of the activities seemed normal enough for a nursery school: playing outside, biking, coloring, reading, snack time, singing, etc. However, every now and then the children said things that reminded me that they're coming from emotionally disturbed backgrounds:
- One girl who has been in out of seven foster homes, for example, kept asking if the judge had said certain things, no doubt recounting the many times she must have been told by foster parents that a judge had ordered her to be placed in yet another foster home. And yet, this same girl pretended to give me a manicure, loves to wear what she calls "fancy" clothes, and "drove" me to the store to go grocery shopping.
- One boy can't seem to stop cursing, fidgeting and inciting the other children into fights—I now know that he has a severe case of ADHD. Many times, the caregivers had to physically restrain him and some of the other students until they were calm enough to socialize with the other children. And yet, he can also be polite and funny. He calls himself Spiderman and jumps and swings around the outdoor play area just as easily.
- Another girl—who I spent half the day mistaking as a boy—refuses to wear girls' clothing and doesn't like being physically touched. She frequently has to be isolated with a caregiver for her outbursts and has a fear of restrooms. She was sexually abused as a child and believes her grandmother is in fact her mother. Today was a big day for her because she actually went to the restroom with a caregiver and flushed a toilet. When I think of her wheeling around the outdoor play area on her red tricycle, grinning so big that her dimples show, it's heartbreaking.
- There's another boy who I was surprised to hear was born with a drug addiction (as were his three other siblings) because his mother was using when she was pregnant. He was taken care of by his older brother, who was only four years his senior, until they were placed in foster care. Alhamdulillah, he has now been adopted by his foster parents.
- Then there's my favorite (I know I shouldn't have favorites, but I can't help it): He's a small, shy Pakistani boy who is very quiet and takes time to warm up to the caregivers. I knew he was ready to play when he clung to my legs from behind and wouldn't let me go. He has behavioral issues and OCD tendencies. He has learned to communicate more verbally rather than lashing out physically. From spending time with him today, I find it hard to believe that he could even act violently. We drew fish, sharks, Spongebob, and Patrick (apparently he's a starfish—I had to ask since I don't know much about Spongebob) with chalk on the sidewalk. His favorite colors are red and black. He also loves reading so I went through the poop book, the farting book, the Old MacDonald Had a Farm book, and Where the Wild Things Are with him. He loves to talk about dinosaurs who he calls "kitosaurs."
At times, I didn’t know how to respond to the children—like when they would start cursing or lashing out physically—since I'm not allowed to restrain or set the limits for the children. But I'm learning a lot about socio-behavioral development. These children need consistency in their lives. They need constant attention and reassurance that they will not be kicked out of the school or that we will not abandon them. It takes time to build a healthy, trusting relationship with them. And although it may seem depressing listening to their histories and thinking about the injustice of it all, I know that insha Allah I am helping these children and their families to become well-adjusted, independent individuals who can one day function well in the general society without as much supervision and guidance.
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[ Tuesday, July 11, 2006 ]
"God, it's not easy/There's a lot to keep you holding/On forever..../Whatever gets you through today"I think this is my third attempt to start a post since my last one. It's not that I'm too busy to post. I do put in a considerable amount of time hitting the books for my biochem class, but my schedule allows me enough flexibility on most days to do what I want. I guess my problem is that I can't really express myself on this blog anymore. And lately I feel like I'm wandering aimlessly, jumping from one thing to the next, just to make it through the day.
I'm helping a friend brush up on his math skills before he takes an exam. He actually thought I was going to make fun of him because it's considered "easy" math. Little does he know it takes a lot of courage to ask for help. I can learn a lot from him. He thinks I'm doing him a great favor, but he's actually helping
me. I really need some good, solid company right now. Some normalcy. Someone to talk to. The couple of hours he's there each day helps me feel as if there's a point to my day. When he's gone, the laughter ends and I'm back to the random wandering, my half attempts at phone conversations, and the familiar irritation.
Six months are not so easy to let go of. I guess I could use a lot of duas right now.
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[ Wednesday, June 14, 2006 ]
On the air...I was a little worried telling my dad this morning that I was going to Berkeley for a meeting. I know that he's not that thrilled about me and my sister working on an upcoming Muslim youth conference because it requires a lot of time, commitment, and meetings from a small number of individuals. It's hard to get him to understand why we put so much effort into a conference that lasts simply one day. But alhamdulillah, when I mentioned that I was going to the
KPFA office in Berkeley to record a public service announcement at their independent radio station, he was surprisingly supportive. I think he was simply happy to see me awake early and ready to go before him. Usually, I'm still in bed when he leaves for work.
It's our fifth annual conference, but this one is the largest one yet with a lot of new beginnings for us. This time it's not simply geared toward high school and college-aged youth. It's the first time we've taken on a solid social and political issue - immigration. It's also the first time we're getting out of our comfort zone and making it an interfaith conference and reaching out to other communities. Did I mention it's at Union Square in San Francisco, where it's estimated that on a given Saturday 10,000 individuals show up?
Anyway, to go back to the KPFA experience, it was my first time being in a recording studio, and it was pretty cool being recorded. We had to practice a few times over the big mics to make sure we weren't over the time limit. We were literally deleting out every single word that we felt we didn't need so that we could fit the basic details about the conference in. I had also given the KPFA dude my "Music in Islam" cd to play in the background. I chose a soothing track from Qatar that sounds a lot like Morroccan music. The KPFA dude played back our recordings for us so that we could hear what we needed to improve. It took some getting used to hearing my recorded voice because it sounds so different than what I think I sound like. Finally, we got it just right. It's supposed to be aired about three times a day until the conference day. Insha Allah it'll help spread the word!
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[ Tuesday, June 06, 2006 ]
Time Flies When You're Having Fun
It's been two and a half weeks since school ended, and I'm really enjoying this break. I have to admit that a mere week into it, I started feeling bored and really lazy. Waking up at noon each day didn't help matters much. I realized I needed a purpose to my summertime.
I've therefore decided to do some community work for the few weeks I have remaining until my summer class (biochem) begins. I put aside my apprehension and went right back into planning this (5th) annual conference. I had forgotten how much I missed the company of the other organizers. I realize now that I had only been punishing
myself by staying away from all this.
Although it's odd to admit it, the past two weeks have also helped me to realize how much I enjoy being a student. Excluding the stress of midterms and finals, I really do feel as if I'm doing something with my time by being a student and seeking knowledge. This past semester has shown me that I can actually do well in classes if I work hard and really take my studies seriously. That means studying consistently and being productive, two qualitites that I have been lacking since entering college. Funny how all this kicks in as I'm about to enter my 4th year, and I know the end is somewhat near. I always thought it was such a cliche when graduating students talked about how "time flies" and needing to take advantage of what little time we have left, but the truth of it hasn't hit me until now. In a little over a year, insha Allah I'll be transitioning into a new phase in my life, and I'm not so sure I'm ready for that yet.
I'm also spending the next few weeks I have left until summer school begins to work on my relationships with friends. It's interesting how relationships change as one changes. Sometimes you just have to let some friendships go, and be content with the fact that although you're not as close as you once were with someone, there was a time when you were, and that was what you both needed at that time. With other friendships that have dwindled, it may be that everything that you thought you had lost is in fact still there, but just needs some more effort on your part...it's like returning home to the comfort that things are still in the same place as when you left, but the hard part is simply returning home. And then there are other relationships, relatively newer ones, where you don't realize until that person is about to leave, that you connect with them on so many levels and you are trying your best to make use of the little time you have remaining with them.
Friends...gotta love 'em.
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[ Friday, April 28, 2006 ]
I went to the Poetry for the People event a few days ago and was inspired enough to write my own poem:
Freedom and FearYou ask me why I'm so defensive.
You tell me to calm down
as you close your mind and ears to the words
coming from just another Mozlem yelling about injustice .
It's easy for you to say.
You don't know my fear.
"Bitch," he snickers as I walk to class,
and all I can do is stop and stare at his back,
shocked into silence,
powerless to say or do anything
in this city where the free speech movement began.
And that other time
with the white man so angry that
I could see the spit foaming from his mouth as he yelled at me,
standing in front of my car, blocking any way out.
I quickly locked my doors and prayed, "Dear God, please help me."
And I shook
As I pleaded with the man saying,
"I'm sorry,
I'm sorry."
But for what? I have done nothing wrong.
Why the anger?
Why the hatred in their eyes?
Because I'm a woman.
Because a scarf covers my head.
Because my skin is brown and my eyes are just as dark as the terrorists'.
Because I'm a Muslim.
But five years have passed since those planes crashed
those buildings collapsed,
and innocent individuals died,
also taking with them my life as I knew it,
and I'm
tired of apologizing.
If I don't speak out now, when will I?
And if words are my only weapon, why shouldn't I use them?
Why allow myself to be silenced?
Innocence is lost
when children point and ask if you're going to blow up their school,
and their mothers grip their hands firmly and quickly steer them in the opposite direction,
away from you.
Innocence is lost
when we know without even going through the metal detectors at an airport,
that we will be asked to step aside
as they recognize our names as threats.
And we're left questioning, "What's in a name?"
when no one wants to board the same plane,
let alone sit next to us.
Innocence is lost
when our neighbors are asked to spy on us.
When the FBI shows up one day to our homes and without an explanation,
we are robbed of nonexistent rights
all in the name of so-called national security.
As our men are detained in solitary confinement and beaten
until they are either physically handicapped
or emotionally paralyzed.
And our women are strip searched and asked to squat and cough
and humiliated until they just can't fight it any longer
and they plead to be deported—you know—back home.
But where is home, if not here?
Yet the government tells everyone not to be afraid,
that we are Americans.
That they are preserving our freedom.
You call
this freedom?
Because I sure as Hell don't feel secure.
It's our government that I fear.
Our government
that litters bombs wherever it goes,
and justifies everything under this "war on terror,"
as Palestinian children continue to die
from the US$3 billion sent annually to Israel with military aid.
As Afghanistan is left in ruins and chaos.
And did you know
that in this third year of occupation,
the Iraqi civilian death toll is the highest with
36 deaths
every single dayand 38 thousand civilian deaths total?
But we've stopped even watching it in the news,
And really, who's counting anymore, anyway?
As we now turn our attention towards Syria and Iran.
How much is a South Asian, Arab, or Muslim life worth?
How many deaths is it going to take to end this madness?
And who's the terrorist now?
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[ Tuesday, April 11, 2006 ]
Funny Emails from the PapaMy dad forwarded a newsletter (news-email?) to me from his workplace with an article entitled "Mama, don't let your babies grow up to be doctors!" I was studying for a Physics midterm so I didn't get a chance to read it, but I emailed him back saying it sounded scary and that I'd read it when I got home. His response was just what I needed to make me laugh after a sucky midterm:
"Don't worry; I did not mean to scare you. It is all going to be okay, my child. Your father is in insurance business."
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