Saturday 15 October 2011

Oblivious 2


   Back arched. Water running down her bronze skin. Wet crystals surf up and down until they hit the bathtub. Her beautiful curves stand obvious to any female-interested eye. Massaging her scalp, she enjoys the water teasing her perfectly hanging breasts--thinking she has come a long way. Water slopes down her back , goes up a perfect half-circle, and finally streams along her thighs. Flawless drops. Flawed skin. And only she knows.


  She steps out of the bathtub, wraps a towel around herself and then examines herself in the mirror. The towel drops to the floor. She can see her head-to-toe reflection, unfortunately. She takes a step closer to the mirror, hoping her imperfections will--miraculously-- disappear if she looks closely at them. She is one step closer to the mirror. They're still there.

  She remembers how she felt with water surrounding her body: alive. With every drop caressing her skin, she felt worth touching. With every drop teasing a body part, she felt feminine. The water didn't care. It understood she was human. She can't be perfect.

But she wants to be. Nevertheless, her years of self-consciousness and emotional recovery from teenage obesity have taught her a lesson: one can only be a perfect version of one they already is.

 Still standing across from herself and being exposed to her own,very critical, eyes, she wonders if her physical imperfections have left marks on the person that lies within. Ten years later, she wonders if she's still thirteen-years old inside, if she has grown up at all, if she's more comfortable in her own skin. She doubts it. Then she doesn’t. Then she thinks it’s a maybe.

  She hears music playing in the distance, and in the small space between the mirror and the wall she dances. She shyly watches her wriggling bare curves and smiles at herself whenever she masters a move.

 But no, if water is satisfied with bathing her beautifully-flawed skin, if water is in fact that oblivious , it’s simply because it’s just water. No human being will ever examine her with such a tolerant eye.

 She's too stubborn not to love herself enough until it is exactly how she wants it to be. She never was nor will she ever be oblivious to what she lacks, to what she has, or to what seems to be.

  She takes a deep breath and stares at a reflection of the embodiment of the person she has become rather than who she feels she really is. She thinks to herself that the next time water slides over her skin and makes her aware of her temporary shell, she will have come one step closer to the image in her head, to the love she owes to herself. Perhaps  she’ll have come one step closer to perfection. Or one step closer to being oblivious to it.

Sunday 2 October 2011

Just a little slower


   I think it was meant to slow me down. Or in better words, it happened so I can slow down and therefore become more appreciative of what I have, where I am and all of the opportunities that lay before me and ahead of me. It was meant to happen so that my options would be less and so I would stop being overwhelmed by the possibilities at hand that I always –more often than not- try to grab all at once. The result of which is inevitable frustration and exhaustion.

 And it did slow me down of course. Sometimes it slowed me down a little too much, it was painful. My enthusiastic, fiery, curious self hates nothing more than restraint. The idea has been implanted in my brain, the resources have been made accessible but it is I who can’t do it; it is just like having the apple within arm’s length but you just can’t reach it. Nevertheless, I, now, look back at the past 2 weeks and see that I’ve been calmer and more organized. I’ve managed to attend sessions, meet a few students outside class, plan for my weekends, study, and more importantly enjoy the little things about every passing day.

 I have been able to do more than just look around me; I have seen what I’m surrounded by. I have noticed, observed and taken mental notes. It is definitely something I’ve long needed; to take a step backwards, stand still and watch the world move forward on either side of my body because otherwise it is very hard to observe. With no observation, I believe, no proper opinion can  be formed, no genuine appreciation can result and no true enjoyment will take place.

I am glad. I am glad I broke a bone in my foot.

Thursday 29 September 2011

Wishful Thinking

  Black smudges on the pillow. Wrinkled bed sheets.  Eyes staring at the ceiling. Puffy  ones. “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” was playing tonight, is playing right now in fact. I could’ve gone. I’d wanted to go since I’ve heard it was going to play today. I was thrilled because I’m free Wednesday evenings and because I would get the chance to wear one of my new skirts.

  Mirrors are tricky things though. They are honest. And in my case, more often than not, they’re not only honest, they’re blunt.

 It was an exciting morning with many planned errands run, I felt accomplished. Now, the evening has come. Time for some fun. I slowly opened the drawer, picked a skirt and anxiously tried it on. I walked to the mirror. I took a few steps forward and then a few ones backwards. Turned around, tried every pose possible. I tried on a second skirt. I tried on a third skirt. Alas.  The gods of weight loss along with the gods of self-esteem don’t want to give me a break. And I desperately need one.

 Nothing is more unsettling than the feeling of being stuck within yourself. Not with yourself, but within.  Time is another tricky thing. It just won’t give you what you want when you need it the most. You have to wait, and most of the time it is painfully inconvenient.

  Lying still on my bed fighting tears and thoughts, wishing I had a different body, at least for tonight. Or maybe wishing I didn’t care how I looked or maybe wishing I was thirteen again , starting all over and never approaching those cookies.

 Lying still on my bed, Black smudges on the pillow. Wrinkled bed sheets.  Eyes staring at the ceiling. Puffy  ones.

Monday 8 August 2011

Insignificant

 
Inhale. Exhale. Clenching her left fist, releasing it,clenching it again. She stood squinting at the big white door ; her next challenge.

Time to go in, I can't just stand here.

As she swung the door open an air-conditioned breeze flew her way. Nervously scanning for him in the big work office, her lungs decided she needed the air inside for now.

The radar that had been implanted in her since she arrived at work disregarded all the buzzing voices in the background, and then it picked up his voice behind her, greeting someone. He wasn't just his usual loud. He was happy loud. She unclenched her first, and her lungs released the air free.

She turned around,and saw him; the man who once awakened senses  in her she never knew she had. The only man in her adult life who made her feel like life is worth living;who made her feel alive.

He wanted time off he said. Despite all his troubles, I still can't believe he wanted time off from me.

Standing across from him, her eyes faked looking for something behind him and as they turned to the left, they met his. His eyes were brown lit and his smile pearl white. He was happy. And I have nothing to do with it. A smile formed slowly on her face despite herself.

You're back ?” She asked in what she thought appeared as a nonchalant manner.
Yeah, I arrived a few days ago. You didn't know?” His smile slightly faded away.
  Her thumb started rapidly rubbing the back of the ring on her ring finger.
How would I ? You were totally cut off from the world for a month.”

  A moment of silence dawned on the both of them, she looked deeply into his eyes and knew she wouldn't hear what would soothe her heart.

I...umm..I...have to go. I have work to do.” She whispered.

She couldn't wait for him to respond – or she was scared to. She turned around,feeling her heart expanding in her chest. Breathless. She walked out of the office from the back door as if she'd been under water for hours, and now sticking her head out for some air.

It started when she commented on a short story he posted on his blog. They talked about it the next day at work, and they didn't stop talking for the following 3 weeks. They talked about everything to its finest detail. Their past was no longer shameful , their present no longer boring and future plans not a secret. No time on Earth was enough for them to quench their curiosity; they had finally found each other.

Inhale. Exhale. She had her back to the wall. Staring into the corridor, she hoped the solution to her misery would pop out of thin air. She bent her knees, pulling herself down the wall. She shut her eyes for a few moments and held her forehead in her palm;deep in shock. She decided to open her eyes, and slowly pushed herself upwards. Regaining her balance, she stepped away from the wall, and tied her hair in a pony tail. Eyes closed. Jaw clenched. It's time to face the music.

On their first official date, a romantic moment brought them closer than they' d ever been. Eyes closed. She was trying to preserve the moment,to lock it up in a place of happy memories in her heart. She couldn't believe it was really happening.

Well, it wasn't.

Opening the door , her heart thudded against her chest. She walked into the room with her back straight, a clear throat and eyes wide open. So many comforting faces, yet none that really matter. She was looking for his, hoping he wouldn't be there. He wasn't. She sat down, and held a pen with her slightly shaking hand. I have to try to get some work done.

Being so close to a girl, he remembered what he'd been through,and decided he wanted to take it slow. He was scared for the both of them, he said. One week later and a few days before he left, the potential love story went from slow to over.

He walked in the room and looked right past her as if she was a ghost. Work was now the last thing on her mind. She couldn't contain herself. She felt like she had to talk to him; to tell him she'd been restless ever since he left. She placed her left arm on the table,supported herself and slowly stood up. The humiliation she felt was coming her way conjured up tears in her eyes.

She walked up to him in hesitant steps. Standing behind him, she stretched her arm and patted him on his right shoulder. Her eyes fixated on his shoulders, she saw his right shoulder turn slowly to the left . She took a step back, swallowed her saliva and felt it slide down her throat. Now facing her, he looked at her with expressionless eyes. It was only then that she remembered what he had once told her.

You know, my friends always ask me why I seem to be perfectly okay whenever I break up with a girl. I tell them that when the most important woman in your life walks out on you,no other woman really ever matters.”

Thursday 28 July 2011

Uncaptured


Adjusting the lens – adjusting some more. This picture has to be perfect. I worked really hard to land a job in this studio. I don't want one picture to go wrong. She goes to the girl sitting on the stool,fixates her fingers on either side of her face, and tilts slightly to the right.

Behind her camera, she peeps through the lens. “ You guys look great, now look into each others' eyes and smile.” Click. Flash. The three of them are happy. A moment of happiness has been captured. Time has been enframed ,in this picture,forever.

In the small waiting area in the studio, she waits for other customers to show up. A smile appears on her face as though it doesn't belong to her. She thinks of how ironic her job is,considering. People come here on their official bad hair day, with bushy eyebrows and custard yellow teeth wanting their picture taken. A good one that is. And she still manages to do it.

She sits them down, makes small talk, makes them smile and then takes their picture. She later looks at the pictures and thinks they could've at least taken a shower before they came in. Despite all, she patiently edits, she patiently breathes in and out , until the pictures are exactly how she wants them. If it isn't perfection in the picture,then at least happiness is. She stares into the mirror across from her, and witnesses tears of guilt stream down her face. Strangers. I do this for pure strangers.

She opens the door to her apartment,it's dead quiet. They're probably on the roof or something. She notices the furniture in the reception has been moved around, and the vases and antiques are randomly placed on the tables. She then remembers her mom was talking about sprucing it up a bit. Joy does need to be let back in the house- or they could at least try. She also remembers that she isn't the least bit interested in helping her mom.

One week later, the reception looks as if it has been truly-renovated. Carpets cleaned,furniture polished, all sorts of antiques and souvenirs tastefully- placed on the tables. The walls in the house were never plain though ; the old paintings were removed and new ones were hung instead. Yet, with no familiar faces within the frames,nothing has really changed.

Monday 25 July 2011

Figured Out

Back to the mirror. Tucked shirt,pressed pants. He turns around, making sure his freshly-grown abs are showing - they are. He closes his eyes,imagining what it would be like - to date again. He crosses his fingers,sprays his Paco Rabanne and leaves the room. Just as he is about to leave the house, he takes a second glance at himself in the mirror by the door; he admires his newly-done eyebrows. Close up,his admiration drops to a doubt. But it's too late - he thinks to himself, I wanted to get them done, and I did.

Ten years ago when he was first contemplating the idea, he was actually repulsed by it. I have yet more to discover about myself ,his subconscious would tell him.But in the light of day, he had to convince himself that he is all figured out.

Driving his car, he listens to the romantic songs on his ipod. One song after the other ; one tear after another. I can't relate to any of these songs. I have experienced love before, just not the type they seem to be singing about.

He closes his eyes for a second, just to push the negative thoughts back in his head. Tonight is a good night because I'm going to meet the one person who in a very long time has made me feel really good about myself.

He steps into the downtown bar. Loud. Hot. Crowded. He sees a sea of faces - male faces. He takes another quick look until his eyes finally meet his date's. They exchange smiles. He walks downstairs, walks up to him and the moment he shakes his hands he knows he is wrong. Again.

Thursday 21 July 2011

Oblivious


  Back arched. Water running down her bronze skin. Wet crystals surf up and down until they hit the bathtub. Her beautiful curves stand obvious to any female-interested eye. Massaging her scalp, she enjoys the water teasing her perfectly hanging breasts-thinking she has come a long way. Water slopes down her back , goes up a perfect half-circle, and finally streams along her thighs. Flawless drops. Flawed skin. And only she knows.

  She steps out of the the bathtub, wraps a towel around her and then examines herself in the mirror. The towel drops to the floor. She can see her head-to-toe reflection,unfortunately. She takes a step closer to the mirror,hoping her imperfections would-miraculously- disappear if she looked closely at them. She is one step closer to the mirror. They're still there. They always will be.

  She remembers how she felt with water surrounding her body : alive. With every drop caressing her skin, she felt worth touching. With every drop teasing a body part,she felt feminine. The water didn't care. It understood she was human. She can't be perfect. Will the man of her dreams ever be that oblivious ?

Friday 24 June 2011

Starting Point

No punching bag, no companion, just a pen, a paper and most importantly..smoke. People around make you more isolated, the more you write the more you escape, one drag into your lungs...you're miles away.

Planes-not needed, people- not even them. All you need is your mind to take you wherever you want to be. You arrive there..another drag releases your confusion,sadness and the surprise at how life always takes you where you always seem to end up.

Days and years don't seem to pass by, they just seem to go round and round. A vicious circle and you're the center of it. You hop on the ring. It moves. You think you're finally moving along, you've got your past behind you. But then you see the starting point approaching. Your heart races, your eyes water and all you see is ..flash...flash...flash.

Different people, different places, but nothing has changed. You need to vent, you smoke. You need to vent, you write. You need a relief. You walk away doubting that tomorrow is actually the future.

Thursday 23 June 2011

On The Way

 On the swing of life I am
On the way to neverland
A destination, they say, is ahead
fluctuation, I heard, is a threat.

Only a single road I should take,
I have to pick one and make no mistake.
All around me are those who lost their way,
Very few have made it to the wanted bay.

A lesson I did learn:
I have to think before taking the wrong turn.
On the way I consider myself to be
I'm not lost like they may see.
The true route is not found easily,
On the way I am to find what is meant to be.


8-10-2008
N.Elmeligy

The "Road " To Utopia

It is the rush hour that puts any traffic system to the test. In our case, our system is being put to the test all day every day, except when it's Iftar time in Ramadan or during any Ahly -Zamalek football match.

Drivers or non-drivers, we all know how it is in Cairo. It's horrendous. Zamalek be it or Al-Sayeda Zainab, it's all the same. Even if we estimate that only 2 out of 100 Egyptians obey traffic laws, an important question pops up, "what laws?"

All of us are fed up with the chaos dominating the streets. Streets in this country can be four-way and crossing them requires a hero. Not only that, but our country also gives us all a privilege like no other; we can personalize our number plates in any way we want! , which is absolutely hilarious. I've seen plate numbers so small that you don’t read but decipher! Some people paint their numbers black on black plates, and a third breed doesn't think having a number plate is a must.

Well, enough with the past. Our government has finally woken up from its coma. We all know about the new traffic law. It's very fair, they tell us, it no longer gives privileges to "VIPs", and it's going to make the streets a better home for our cars.

I'm not being cynical or skeptical, I'm just thinking of our officials as I always have until they prove me wrong. A friend of mine was waiting in her car in front of the Egyptian Museum only a few days after the new law came out. A police officer asked her to move the car because she is not allowed to wait in this spot. She slipped five pounds in his pocket, and the poor guy simply walked away.

Another friend of mine was headed to Alexandria, and a police officer stopped her on the way to check the pollution percentage in her exhaust pipe. He checked it with some kind of device, and of course he told her that it's above the acceptable, non-polluting limit and that she has to pay a fifty-pound fine. He gave her a receipt that she put in her pocket. He gave her a P.S. that in spite of having this receipt another officer can stop her on the way back and ask her to pay another fine! Therefore, she has to fix the problem in Alexandria and not wait till she gets back to Cairo.

I have the deepest affection for my country, and I'm not against any laws that might invest in developing a more civilized everyday life for us, Egyptians. I'm just against laws that are only written on paper and are being manipulated by officials to their advantages.

If they want us to clean our exhaust pipes, and fix all with our cars, they have to give us deadlines, not punish us only a few days after the law comes out. We just can't be thrilled about a law that will supposedly put back every one in their place. We have to make sure that those who will carry out these laws are satisfied, and will not accept bribes no matter how small. We have to secure them a humane life so that they can turn a blind eye to breaking the law.

Egyptians are so tired of being spoiled by their government; the government thought it should throw them an imprisonment law just for fun! Now, in our beloved country, if you break a traffic law and not pay your fine immediately, you're taken straight to prison. Drivers who break the red light are currently being equated with thieves. I've never heard of anything more ridiculous. I'd rather pay my inheritance than go to prison, especially in this country. I know they're trying to straighten out the traffic laws, but it's going to be another life time until they do something about the prison system!

I totally agree that when cars park on a second row, it makes streets narrower and slows down the traffic flow. But it's just not realistic to prevent cars from parking on a second row when there isn't any other place to park. Build me the garages, give me the extra space and I'll be more than happy to park my car there.

The attempt seems sincere; I just don’t think it's well-planned out. I'm afraid it's going to make our lives harder than easier. I absolutely back up the unified number plates and the fines for those who break any law. Let's just hope no one thinks of them as identical and gives a ticket to the wrong driver! I also hope it's only a "bumpy" start for a really "smooth" future.

2008

NYC on the go


My address was 156-35 76st Howard Beach,Queens, NY 11414,USA. If they haven’t pulled the house down already, I’m sure some Sicilian family lives there now. Howard Beach was strictly a Jewish/Italian neighborhood,and as an Egyptian Muslim,oh my,I fit in just right!

Howard Beach was all white people,you could feel all the eyeballs sticking out when you walk in the street. I never understood how they walk around half-naked and make love in the park and yet find it so weird that someone chose to keep his body to themselves. The thing is,I was veiled,and when you're in new york ,it's another way of saying that you're a swearing-staring magnet!

Americans... you need encyclopedias just to write about how diverse,weird,funny,and interesting they are. I dealt with nationalities ranging from polish to African,and from Mexican to Russian. and religions! at only 14, I thought when you're a Jew you're extreme, it turned out that there is a religion encyclopedia of a thousand pages. Although there are that many religions in America,I had people swear at me for no reason,I had people come up to my face and ask what the heck I had over my head. it's because they've never seen anything like it or maybe they had their intolerance take on their wheels.

So, it was 2003 and i was a senior in high school then, I hadn't taken the SATs yet (scholastic aptitude test) which I had to take before I entered college. Therefore, I decided it's about time to take the test because otherwise, flipping burgers at McDonald’s would be a dream come true! After some small research I found a center called the Princeton review for SAT courses. I called it up and made an appointment for the following Saturday to take my placement test .Saturday came along just fine, it seemed like a normal day with the sun up in the morning and all. No adventure seemed to be heading my way. But God,did that day catch me off guard!

I left home two hours before my appointment .when I reached the subway station I had to ask someone which train to take in order to reach my destination turned out I had to take two because no train goes straight to where I was headed.

I was very nervous as usual,i just hate being late. I asked an old man who was sitting next to me how far my stop was,and the poor man answered me the whole five consecutive times I asked!. so far,the day was a normal New York City day:fast,crowded and busy. by that time,I was only 30 minutes away from my appointment and wasn't really sure if I was going to make it on time. anyways,it didn't take the second train long,this time I didn't ask anyone just in case my reputation goes public in the subway arena with a picture of me saying "Don't answer her, she's slow".

It was still day light when i got off, and the first person i saw i asked about how to reach the address on the ad. a few steps down the block and i started to feel something in the air. My mind went " and I thought Howard Beach was Jewish?? I saw crowds of men in black suits with long curly hair,women in long skirts and temples on every corner. I didn’t know Israel was so close to where i lived!! but to be honest,all the Jews i asked were pretty nice and helpful. I'm guessing God at the time left all his other duties and made me his first priority. Being lost in an obviously religious Jewish neighborhood when it's post September 11th and wearing a veil does require divine protection.

If I had joined a marathon,i would've walked less than i did that day. it seemed like this address had a different meaning to each person I asked. For God's sake ,it's a location,it cant be in more than one place! After a long journey,I reached the Princeton review an hour and a half late. the lady in charge told me that the test was almost over but she was nice enough to let me take it.

I finished my test,then I walked out of the building and it was pitch black. On my way back to the train station i did get a little lost ,just not like the first time. It was about 9pm when I hopped on the first train, just hoping New York would spare me anymore suspense for the rest of the night,but New York was a lot more generous than I'd thought.

I was finally on the second train on the way back home. it was somewhere around 10:30 at night. let me tell you this, this timing in NY is nothing like it is Cairo. It is dead silent,desert-like dark and a mini horror movie. As i was sitting in the train my eyelids were automatically shutting. a man right across,was just not taking his eyes off me.

He looked Hispanic,middle-aged,and well-built. According to the stereotype, when you mix a Hispanic male,with a 17 year-old Muslim girl in a New York City subway at almost midnight, you get a result of theft,rape,or murder! He was literally staring at me,looking me in the eye. He wasn't checking me out, it was more like examining me. I'd never felt so scared in my life,no one helps anyone in New York when it comes to life-threatening situations. While I was imagining how it is going to be like when I go to heaven,the man stood up ,came over and sat next to me.

My legs froze,my heart stopped,my lungs clogged,and my tongue was paralyzed. He bent over,looked at me and asked:

" Are you Muslim?"
" Yes"
"Oh how nice,my father is Saudi Arabian and my mom is Brazilian and I haven’t seen him since I was fifteen. I'm going to see him next month"

If I had had a knife I would’ve been the one who delivered the stroke because the guy almost gave me a heart attack. It did not occur to me that this total stranger, after causing my hair to stand on end, would come up to me hoping to have a heart-to-heart conversation about our families and backgrounds. I was home by midnight. My mom was praying and when she finished she told me that she was about to call the police because she was worried sick about me. I went to bed and kissed the day's adventure good bye.



2008


Advice from the 1700's

  Since humans have walked the Earth, similar problems through the ages have emerged and also similar solutions have been posed. A late French philosopher believed that the remedy to all human wounds lies within one concept. Voltaire, a major thinker during the Age of Enlightment, believed that intolerance is the only cause of all problems on the planet and that there is a single path to the earthly paradise: tolerance.

  There is no precise definition for intolerance, but many people see it as the violent disagreement with others simply because they are different, or have opposing ideas and beliefs. As intolerance branches out to various types, it may cause conflicts ranging from simple disagreements between individuals all the way to wars between countries.

  As it encompasses religious, social, and cultural subcategories, intolerance can be said to be the main cause of the steaming worldwide status quo. Although the religious and social forms of intolerance play an unquestionable role in the universal tension, I believe that the cultural form of intolerance is the protagonist of this open-ended drama.

  Each person in this world is brought up to believe and get used to certain sets of norms and values, that's to say one's own culture. Unfortunately, most people are brought up to adhere to their beliefs and customs and never hesitate to fight others' that contradict their own. It is normal that having faith in certain beliefs and values is synonymous to sticking to them at all times, yet intolerance occurs when "sticking" to one's culture turns into extreme inflexibility.

  Western media, supported by the west's fossilized belief, stereotypes Arabs as primitive and terrorists. Middle Eastern media, driven by the old Arab-Israeli struggle, portraits all Jews as Zionists and America has launched the war against "terrorism" because it believes itself to be the one with the greatest culture and that it's its duty to spread it all over the world. People in general think twice before coming in contact with someone different from themselves because it was rooted in them to fear the different and that their own "breed" is the only safe and sane.

  Islamophobia, anti-semtism, racial discrimination, sexism, ethnocentiricity and xenophobia are all caused by intolerance, they all make our lives a living hell, and following Voltaire's prescription to a better world, tolerance is the only solution. Accepting others and respecting them with all what they represent is the only way humans can live harmoniously.

2008

Wednesday 15 June 2011

Rewind

Comes a moment when the weight
is too heavy for you to rate
You just cannot believe,neither
are you able to perceive
that you've placed such a burden
      on the shoulder
where your prayer angel takes shelter

When you come to close your eyes
it's an order for the memories to rise
and when you come to fake a dream,
only pain,flows in your blood stream

When you shrink your lungs,when you press
When you bring them down to one last breath
When you try with all your might
to erase the past, to lessen your fright

When your soul is mourning
       its dead innocence
and when its their morning
your sun won't be shining.

Since you failed to press the right "play"
.......your sun will stop rising
because you'll never find a rewind key.

5-23-07

Monday 13 June 2011

In Limbo


It was a few years ago, in the gym. I was signing up and I had to fill in an application in Arabic, which I did-horribly. I saw the look on the man's face when I handed him the application-he was either thinking that I've just started to learn how to write or I'm just an incompetent idiot. I was a little of both. The reason is very simple really; I didn't and I still don’t write in Arabic enough.

Growing up how I did, words were never used to express thoughts and ideas; they were for mere communication. I look back and I see that I had a great childhood.. And I also look back and see how detached and mentally and verbally uninvolved I was in anything that was happening around me. I don't think I was ever asked the question “ what do you think?”- or maybe once.

Words never mattered in school either. Arabic lesson was always the hardest and most boring and English was synonymous to Shakespeare's abridged plays which we never really understood and a whole lot of dictations and copying from the book. I look back and my heart aches over the years of so-called education that were wasted. I look back and I want to show my younger self a flash forward , so that she can do more, and better. I know they say that it is never too late, but in this case it literally is.

I found words in America. I discovered how language is and should be used quite late in life. Not only was I reading and writing more than I ever had in my life , I was doing it in a language that wasn't my first. I've studied and used English at school since Kindergarten but there is nothing like living in an English-speaking country and going to a high school there and to be expected to have or develop the same level of language and language use as the native speakers. It was difficult.

Do you remember as kids we were taught how to make a third color when mixing two other colors together? Well, that's what happened with me. A little bit of Arabic and a little bit of English has now formed the language I use to “express” myself and “communicate” with the world around me. I walk in a room full of Egyptians, I feel instantly at home until I say something in Arabic that makes absolutely no sense, because I’d just translated it from English-because this is the language I was thinking in while speaking.

When I walk into a room full of English-speakers,I'm never really intimidated but I've given in to the fact that I'm going to say something hilariously translated from Arabic or incorrect because my mind doesn't think of concepts or ideas only in English.

Even worse, sometimes I think to myself that I should write something,its something that I really like doing and I should practice it more often. I feel the keyboard under my fingers,words are only a press away but ideas/concepts and words in English are almost always not even in arm's length. But have I ever thought about writing in Arabic? No. Because when I first started writing , it was in English

Two worlds don't really make a person a hybrid, they just make them incomplete. Whenever you try to add a piece from this world , you're only taking up space from where the other world would have fit. The goal of being complete is really a pledge to commit to one world only , and that, I cannot do.

A choice has to be made. Which side of you is more confident, is more appealing ? Which side of you would you rather have conspicuous to the world or even which side fits better in your current environment? You'll choose one,you'll enjoy your temporary self and something is going to come up and is going to make you think again. An identity seesaw will take place for as long as there hasn't been a decision to dispense with a side of you – that 'll probably end up the one forming who you truly are.

Sunday 12 June 2011

The"Catch Once"Train

The sun is up
and I'm not awake yet
The night has come
accompanied with moonlight
......and I'm still asleep

My train has passed my by
and I'm still here
waiting for another one
I didn't know there was only one

I tried to run after it
But no way....
It left already

I couldn't keep myself steady
I started to panic, I started to scream
I kept wondering if this was a dream
But it wasn't....It was real

My life train passed me by
.....while I was asleep....

8-24-02

Egypt in 500 words

Owing to its location between Europe, Africa and Asia and to its occupational history, Egypt is said to have a complex identity.It is the land of the pharaohs.It is an Islamic country where Christianity has in fact been established first and in the early 20th century it was home to millions of Jews before almost all of them immigrated to Israel.21st century Egypt is an Islamic country because out of 81 million Egyptians only 9 are Christians, nevertheless Christians and Muslims live harmoniously and the culture of Egypt remains neutrally Egyptian.

Egyptians are friendly and full of warm feelings. They are hospitable, generous and easily-trusting. They always go out of their way to help others, giving Egypt its safe and cosy ambiance. In addition, most Egyptians don't expect something in return when they help others, they consider it normal to help and be helped. In Egypt, family ties are very important and so it is not customary for either a boy or a girl to move out of their parents' house unless they are married. Moreover, the majority of Egyptian parents take full responsibility for their children, even when they are adults.

More than 90% of the population of Egypt are Egyptians; a factor that gives Egyptians a sense of unity. Yet that same factor plays a role in Egyptians' conservatism. Not being exposed to many differences has made it rather difficult for the Egyptian culture to accept what is new and different. As a result, unfortunately, the Egyptian culture could be deemed narrow-minded. Yet, recently, due to globalization the culture of Egypt has been exposed to various cultures and Egyptians have started to respect and accept individuality a lot more than they have in the past.

All Arab countries speak Arabic but in Egypt the spoken and the written are very different.The correct Arabic is the classical,mainly influenced by the Qur'an and isused in any formal writing or speaking.Nevertheless,every day Arabic in Egypt is purely colloquial and is understood throughout the Arab world due to the spread of Egyptian media.

Most Egyptians are caught in the vicious circle of money and education, where it is very hard to have one without having the other, in hopes to go up the ladder of social classes.
With education being very expensive, the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer, the social classes in Egypt are further drifting apart and so leaving one nation divided into groups of people with different educational, social and financial backgrounds and prospects.

Although Arabic and common culture make Egypt a member of the middle East,its five thousand-year old history gives it a distinct identity. In fact, the past and the present of Egypt are what will always make it conspicuous. Its modern culture is a melting pot of the old and the new, it is very rich connecting all Egyptians together and is trying to hold on to its authenticity in a continuously-globalizing world.

(I wrote this in April/May 2010-before the Egyptian Revolution-I think I'm going to write another post-revolution)

Saturday 11 June 2011

Blind Eye


I’m not sure how it started. But he was arguing that one cannot live in a world of their own, because there is no such thing. I thought that one could, because I do. I wake up every day in my “I have turned a blind eye” mood. I wake up in the morning, every working day, disregarding what’s going on in my house. I take a deep breath and act as if I’m leading the life I’ve always wanted-for now. I get in the car, check the rear-view mirror; hair-check, sunglasses-they match, lip gloss-when I get to work. Then I drive.

Or I escape. In the car, there is no screaming. In the car, I’m not over-weight. In the car, my English is good enough and in the car I get all the attention.

From Mokattam to Agouza is a long drive. When I’m driving, alone, I feel like I’m in control-which I obviously am- but I mean of my life-or its miniature. I play my music- I either drown my senses into Om Kolthoum’s finest or random pop music. I am sometimes a classy Egyptian who is too Egyptian for her work place or sometimes a perfect hybrid who’s assumed they actually know where they stand in life. And sometimes I am both. And whoever I am, I am in a world of my own.

I could be in a world of my own but the question is,am I the only one shaping it? There is probably no straight answer to that question but I believe that the concrete reality of someone’s life is never the reality they truly live, the always live the one it appears to be; the one in their heads.  It is only when someone metaphorically lends you the lens through which they view life that you can actually live a life other than your own-or at least see the preivew.

Sometimes, I want to remain where I am, stay put. No borrowing, no lending. I just want to get to work and go back home and maybe tomorrow the world I’m living in will change.