The joys of expecting... and the shame!

There is no joy greater than that of knowing that a miracle is taking place ever so quietly within your body, that all the sciences and all the myths and all of God's forces are working together to create a life inside. It is the most amazing thing, when you are lucky enough to have such a facility, to watch that life grow week after week, from nothing to something that looks like a mini-dinasaur the whole 10mm long and then on to something more human, with tiny arms, legs and a belly, a fluttering heartbeat showing on the sonogram, moving about within it's little cavity, still so small and months away from being in our arms.

Aside from the sonograms, there is little evidence on the outside that I am carrying a miracle inside me, but I keep looking at our miracle's pictures from the sonogram, and I can feel its heart beat, I can imagine it moving about. I want to sing to it, talk to it. Occasionally, though, I want to share my joy with others. I want to show them how our baby's growing. I want to tell them... this week our baby will learn to use it's hands, or it will actually move away if I shine a flashlight at my tummy because it's eyes will become more sensitive to light.But I can't. This is one of the happiest times of my life and I can't share it with anyone and I don't understand why.

I'm sure there are people reading this, particularly those from our culture or religion, who are blushing and perhaps thinking this information is a tad inappropriate, if not outright shameful. But that logic eludes me. In the Muslim world, you begin learning early on in school that we must have children. Once you get married, you have everyone asking you when and if a little one is on the way. It gets worse later on... "you've been married how long... and no kids? have you checked with the doctor?" I have even had people ask me "Are you doing it right or often enough?" It can be relatives, friends, acquaintances or complete utter strangers. It's as if everyone has the right to discuss and pry in public (possibly in a mixed gender gathering) what is essentially a very private part of your life and your marriage. But no one sees any shame there. I am expected to share the private details of my personal life of how long we've been "trying" (Gosh, I wish people would know how embaressing that is) what the doctors have said, but once I'm expecting and our miracle is on the way, suddenly we're all modest and pure. What's shameful about a baby that is on it's way? If anything is shameful, it's the "trying" part! But no one feels any shame discussing that openly.

A friend of mine made a scrapbook of her daughter's 1st year in this world. As I was flipping through the first couple of empty pages, she told me she had meant to put up some songram pictures there, but then she felt embaressed. I wondered, how embaressed are people when they ask her if she and her hubby are trying for another? And how embaressed is she when she answers that question? This is just one of a long list of hypocrasies we live with in our religious culture. A woman is to feel shame for carrying a baby for 9 months. She is to make every attempt to hide the swelling of her belly. Why? I've noticed that people from our culture tend to be more discrete now when asking me how I'm progressing, whispering vague statements like," So is everything okay?" (accompanied by uncomfortable laugh), compared to earlier when people would just ask me and hubby upfront,"So, are you guys trying for a baby? Enough fun already!"

Next time someone sheepishly asks me how everything is going along, I'm going to pat my tummy and say, "Baby's doing well, Alhamdulillah. Wanna see a picture?"

A special gift...

It lay sparkling on her cheek, still, and yet so fluid. It wasn't like the other beads that so often rolled off her head, hard with thought and conviction. It was different, seemingly weaker and more powerful all at the same time, filled with emotion that, were it to spill, would flood the entire universe. All this weakness, all this power lay in the tiny sparkling transparent pearl drop resting on her cheek, exposed and vulnerable, clear enough for anyone to see through it... while it's small size hid the true intensity imprisoned within it.

She decided to let it roll down the side of her face and she spread open her palm to capture it's fall, at the end of which her transparent gleaming bead would disappear and a moist glitter on her palm would be all that remained of it, all those emotions dissolving into oblivion. That's what usually happened with these beads anyway, and so she expected nothing different. She closed her eyes and felt it roll down to the edge of her face and as it fell she slowly opened her eyes to follow it's flight, and for a moment, it seemed that there were two such pearls falling into her palm at the same time.....

Then something strange happened that had never happened before... instead of vanishing the pearl seemed to get brighter, it even seemed to grow! A ray of moonlight lit up her gem and in excitement, as well as for some fear, she looked up.... and there he was... the answer to the riddle... his moist eyes staring back at hers as he covered her palm with his. He had finally given her what she had sought for a long time.... he had given her one of his own moist pearls. He had decided to share his own, and now they both shared a single glowing pearl, laying softly between their palms.

The moonlight began a quiet dance with the water lilies, and the pond shimmered to add it's own music. The breeze joined in with a hum, and the leaves twirled and pranced. It woke up the wind chime who giggled a gleeful tinkle when it realized what was going on. Felicity had found the treasure she was searching for. She had found her happiness.

He moved a strand of hair from her face and out fell some of the brightest clearest beads that had ever fallen from her head. Somehow the best came only when he was around, or at least when the thought of him was around. He caught some in his hand while some sprinkled on the ground around their feet.

"Please keep them as my gift to you," she whispered, lost in the euphoria of the moment, forgetting all that had happened before.

No sooner had the words left her mouth that he turned and ran away, the glistening beads dropping through his fingers as he let them go, a few getting crushed under his feet as he rushed off to his hiding place. The trees tried to stop him, the moonlight chased after him and the breeze called out to him, but he out-ran them all. Her gaze followed his trail until it could keep up no more, and he disappeared into the darkness.

She stared into the empty space where she last saw him. Somehow everyone seemed to like her beads except him, even though she saved the best ones for him. Perhaps that was what had kept her from sharing her gems with anyone initially. She looked down at the gleaming beads that lay around her feet and she decided to crush a few herself. It amazed her how her beads could ordinarily survive flying into branches and falling on rocks but around him they became so fragile. She felt another moist bead on her cheek and she let it fall to the ground and vanish. This time it didn't even leave any glitter.

Her sight fell on her open palm, where her glowing pearl... their glowing pearl... lay still. She folded her fingers in to encase it, undecided if she was happy or sad. Perhaps it was enough for him to have given her what he had, she supposed. It was more than what she had ever expected of him. Maybe, in time he would grow to value her gifts to him. It was a dream, surely, but... she thought, as she peaked at the glowing gem through her fingers... if this could happen, couldn't anything?

She closed her eyes and let out a sigh, content that at least now she had a part of him with her. A dandelion flew by and kissed her forehead before floating off again. The moonlight embraced her, while the breeze began to hum a tune to lull her to sleep. Felicity hadn't found what she had been searching for, but for now what lay in her palm was enough to leave a smile on her lips.

Blaming Bush....

When America goes to the polls next week, the single most important issue that could determine who becomes president will very likely be Iraq. Some voters may think about taxes, some about medicare and healthcare reform and the import of prescription drugs from Canada . Some may think about stem-cell research and abortion rights, other's about border control and immigration issues and most may think about jobs and the economy; but, rest-assured, everyone will be thinking about Iraq.­

It's a close race between Bush and Kerry, and with only a week to go before election day, there is news that tons... not a ton, but tons... of explosives have mysteriously gone missing in Iraq. It's bad enough that they can't find the WMD's. The mess in Iraq is no secret. Even Bush supporters know how bad it is. A couple of months ago, Bill Clinton was on the Late Show with David Letterman promoting his book. Letterman told Clinton that he asked his (Letterman's) dad who he was going to vote for and why. His dad replied that the Republicans kept sending him letters and calling him to solicit donations for the campaign, and he sent them the money so they would stop bothering him. So that tells me who you're voting for, Letterman said to his dad, but that doesn't tell me why, to which his father said that he didn't think it was a good idea to change leadership when you're in the middle of a mess like Iraq.

But if Americans vote against Bush come November 3rd, it should only be to avoid the impression of acquiescence to Bush's policies and his approach. If they disagree with the principles behind his policies, they have more to worry about than who becomes president. Michael Moore's "Fahrenheit 9/11" makes it seem that Bush had a personal advantage in going after Saddam and protecting the Saudis, specifically the Bin Laden Family, who supposedly share common business/financial interests with the Bush family. But most of "Fahrenheit" is propaganda against Bush and offers little in the way of an intellectual and critical analysis of Bush government policies and actions. Most Kerry supporters may be under the impression that Kerry would not have gone to war in Iraq, but the truth is America would have gone to Iraq regardless of who was President.

­Hindsight is always 20/20 and it's easy to say it would have been better to invest more troops in Afghanistan to find Osama than to get entangled in Iraq, but the question is: based on the intelligence available at the time, would a different president have decided against moving into Iraq?­­

The President of a democracy is subject to the will of the people. US troops invaded Afghanistan in October 2001 and the Taliban regime was destabilized rather quickly. There was hardly any solid infrastructure to target in a country already in ruins. Before the end of the year, the US had taken control away from the Taliban regime. But Osama was still missing and the task of finding him in the mountains in Northern Pakistan was going to be a slow process even if the US deployed more troops for the search. In the mean time, the American public would have grown weary of waiting for the culprits of 9/11 to be brought to justice. Eventually there would have been pressure on the President to offer more... more than just arrests of people supposedly linked to Al Qaeda, more than just over throwing the Taliban regime who supposedly offered sanctuary to Osama and Al Qaeda operatives. Even as a nation with the highest literacy rate in the world, the American public would have wanted to see more immediate results. The president, in the interest of remaining in office and maintaining the support of the public would have conceded to an effort that would have supposedly had a more "satisfying", more tangible impact. Fighting a war against an enemy with no physical geographic boundaries made it difficult to measure success. The US needed an Enemy behind a specific geographic boundary. Enter Saddam Hussein.­­

Saddam already enjoyed notoriety from the Gulf War in the early 1990's. An effort had been underway to depose Saddam since then, except no one had been willing to deal with the consequent post Saddam Iraq. The pretext of the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait pertained to internal OPEC deliberations where Saddam felt that Kuwaiti and Saudi refusal to forgive Iraq it's war debt and lower oil production and raise gas prices was a deliberate attempt on their part to weaken the Iraqi people and hurt their economy and their pride. Initially the Bush Sr. regime failed to send any warnings to Saddam, which Saddam considered a green light to invade and was sincerely surprised by the bellicose reaction of the US. Official US policy was to take no side in any border conflict, although unofficially the US had taken sides and provided unofficial aid both in the Afghan and the Iran/Iraq war during the 1980's. But here US interests in Kuwait were directly at stake and that meant going to War. Iraq had since been restrained with sanctions and subject to UN weapons inspections. In 1998 President Clinton declared that the great danger confronting the US and its allies was the "threat Iraq poses now-a rogue state with weapons of mass destruction, ready to use them or provide them to terrorists, drug traffickers, or organized criminals who travel the world among us unnoticed."

Clinton furthered explained that:

Iraq "admitted, among other things, an offensive biological warfare capability, notably, 5,000 gallons of botulinum, which causes botulism; 2,000 gallons of anthrax; 25 biological-filled Scud warheads; and 157 aerial bombs. And I might say UNSCOM inspectors believe that Iraq has actually greatly understated its production. . . .

"Over the past few months, as [the weapons inspectors] have come closer and closer to rooting out Iraq's remaining nuclear capacity, Saddam has undertaken yet another gambit to thwart their ambitions by imposing debilitating conditions on the inspectors and declaring key sites which have still not been inspected off limits . . . .

"It is obvious that there is an attempt here, based on the whole history of this operation since 1991, to protect whatever remains of his capacity to produce weapons of mass destruction, the missiles to deliver them, and the feed stocks necessary to produce them. The UNSCOM inspectors believe that Iraq still has stockpiles of chemical and biological munitions, a small force of Scud-type missiles, and the capacity to restart quickly its production program and build many, many more weapons. . . ."

The Clinton administration had maintained a policy of sporadic air-strikes against Iraqi infrastructure, but kept short of risking a showdown. The Republicans had always viewed such use of military power as feckless and weak and during the run up to the 2000 elections, Bush and his posse had made clear that they would jettison this Clinton era approach. But once in office, George W. appeared to follow suit with Clinton's policy. The about-face on his campaign rhetoric could have been explained by the perspective gained by assuming the seat of president where one is held accountable for the consequence of one's actions as well as the limited appetite at the time of the American people for another large-scale Gulf war.

But the events of September 11, 2001 changed that. American hearts were bleeding for their dead. An opportunity reared it's head. There may not have been a direct connection between Iraq and the September 11 attacks, and there wasn't any way to prove a connection between Iraq and Al Qaeda, but the case against Iraq had already been made... astonishingly, by a different president who wasn't even republican, long before September 11 ever happened. It wouldn't have been very hard for a charismatic president with a good speech writer to convince the world that in spite of UN weapons inspections, Iraq did pose a threat as a potential supplier of WMD's to Al Qaeda or other terrorist operations against the US, even if in truth it was no where close.

Bush's failure lies in that he is not a politician. He made his intention to enter Iraq with our without international support, with or without a UN mandate, too apparent. He didn't play the political game. That's the reason half of America wants a new president. It's also the same reason why the other half wants to keep him in office. They see him as a straight shooter, a man of ideals and conviction. They like that he was a C-grader and that he isn't an intellectual, that he thinks and acts the way they would. George W. thought that if the ideology of the war in Iraq appealed to him, it would appeal to the rest of the world. he believed in the principle so strongly that he figured there could be no way that anyone could not see that it was the right thing to do. Unfortunately, being a C-grader, he never realized that the rest of the world would see through American ideology for the self-serving policy it truly is, or that not all countries in the world, not even the NATO members shared a common ideology with the US. That is why political gaming is important. A different president would have played the political game. He would have still gone to war.... perhaps seeking US control over oil in Iraq, perhaps to protect the rich Saudi's who have Billions invested in the US and in other US interests around the world and ticking them off could hurt the US as a whole or maybe just the financial interests of particular shareholders and board-members who are also active members of the current US regime, perhaps.... I will not speculate on the basis of US foreign policy... but, a different president would have made a better case and done a better job of convincing his public and the rest of the world, or the parts of the world that count, that his actions were worth undertaking and deserved support.

An interesting thing to note is that the US has maintained a somewhat consistent foreign policy for decades and through various regimes and administrations, regardless of political slant, with only slight differences in implementation depending on the personal touch of the particular Chief Executive in office. I do not know what the principles underlying this foreign policy are, nor do I thoroughly know the policy unofficially maintained by the US. Officially, the US maintains a neutral stance on border conflicts. Officially, the US maintains that a country's internal political and civil conflicts are it's own to resolve. Officially, the US does everything in it's power to safeguard the rights of humanity. Unofficial US policy is, as we know now, very different. All the Bush regime has done is that it has brought the truth about US foreign policy out into the open. It has exposed it's self-serving nature. American never really did care for international opinion, it just did a better job of pretending it did. America has always carried out it's plans at will. When Clinton sent US planes to strike locations in Iraq when former president Bush was allegedly attacked on his visit to Kuwait, he didn't wait for international permission, nor did he seek international approval. The UN has always been powerless against the US, just as it is now. The US could go into Iraq to save people from a tyrant who was letting them live in meager conditions, but the US relies on the UN, the same UN it termed ineffective when it refused to give the green light for Iraq, to resolve the conflict in Darfur while it does nothing to save thousands from being massacred by a militia group possibly protected by the Sudanese government. It is no different than the US charging ahead to save innocent Kuwaiti's from a bloodless invasion by Iraq and standing by for the UN to save the Bosnians from the devastation and genocide at the hands of Milosevic's army.

Americans cannot blame Bush for the current US policy. If they disagree with the policy, they must delve deeper in their search for the premise. I do not know that premise. I suspect that it is to protect and/or further particular US interests/agendas, the nature and purpose of which I am not aware of, nor do I know or understand why so many different presidents would continue to stand by it... unless the assassination of JFK was a result of his dissent... but I am just speculating. My object is to make the public realize that a new president will not change the current policy. It will only serve to cover up what of that policy has been revealed. If Kerry wins, Bush will serve as a scapegoat and the political games of lying, bribing, threatening and convincing allies and non-allies of the virtues of American philosophy will recommence. If Americans can blame Bush for anything, it would be exposing the sinister truth about US policy.

Condolences and more...

The news came as a shock. Although I only knew one "petite" Badar who studied with his even more petite fiance (who later went on to become his wife), I refused to believe it was the same Badar. We had worked together on some group projects and presentations during the early BBA semesters. We remained acquaintances after that, occasionally exchanging a friendly greeting if we happened past each other on campus. Just a couple of years ago, my parents came to know that the wife from a young couple they had met in Calgary was actually his sister, and so now... he is not just an acqaintance and former classmate, but he is also the brother of a family friend. That makes the news of his violent murder harder to digest. It just can't be... (http://knicq.blogspot.com/2004/10/family-destroyed.html)

One can never come up with the right thing to say at moments like this. Beyond the torture Badar must himself have endured, I cannot stop thinking of the torture that his wife, his parents, his siblings are going through right now as they replay scenes of horror in their minds...

Death itself is hard enough to deal with. The senselessness of violence must make the pain unimaginable. Even if they can eventually come to terms with his death, they will never come to terms with the violence that he suffered. "Why?" will always haunt them. It will haunt us, and he wasn't even a part of our lives. I feel anger in my heart, and I can't imagine the wrath that must boil over from the hearts of his family. If we pray to god to give peace and strength to the families who lose their loved ones, then we must pray ten times as hard for Badar's family, for that peace and strength must be very elusive right now.

At times like these it is best to say little, and yet I cannot help myself. Perhaps it is my effort to make some sense of what has happened, or my attempt to prevent this from being just another tragedy. I hope we take away something more than just grief from this tragedy. I hope this does not end with just prayers, a funeral, and the apprehension and bringing to justice of his killer. I want more... we all should want more.

In the movie "Collateral", Tom Cruise's character kills a man who falls on the Taxi he has taken hostage to take him around town for his killing spree. The Taxi driver is obviously shaken, to which Cruise's character asks him if he knows of Rwandans, who kill thousands of people a day, burning entire villages alive. He asks him if that ever made him join Amnesty International or the Red Cross or any movement to protect human lives, and if it didn't why was he freaking out over a single guy's killing who he knew as much as he knew the next Rwandan.

Cruise's character in the film of course is a killer with a cool psychotic rationale. But his character makes a point worth pondering. We never really care about violent death until it hits too close to home, and even then, we may never really do much about it. So Ejaz has been apprehended and hopefully punished for the crime he has committed; is that really the end of the story? SHOULD that really be the end of the story?

We will say our prayers for the dead and the surviving, and then we will return to our lives as usual. Occasionally the thought of this crime will incite pangs of anger and pain and not much else. But there is SO MUCH ELSE to be done, so much else we need to do, and we just don't realize it.

We can write pages on killings in Rwanda, Darfur, Palestine and Kashmir - what could be done, what should be done - and yet we will leave from here with only two lines of prayers and feel we are no longer obliged. Do we really think this is it? Do we really think there will be no more Badar's and no more Ejaz's?

As a society, we are complacent, self-centered, and content with out blind apathy. We are quick to relieve ourselves of any responsibility of any such tragedies and crimes. "It's Society" we claim, yet who does society comprise of if not us? It's about time we did something to change the state of affairs. We are not victims... we are not helpless mind-numbed slaves of societal doctrine.... we are the creators of those doctrine, we decide which direction society takes, and if we have chosen to let society become it's own animal, then it is a choice we have made, not a decision imposed on us. Perhaps we have made this choice so we can turn away when bad things happen... blame someone else, something else... so we can point a finger and comfort ourselves with the thought that we were never a part of it. Yet we are. If we are a part of that same society, then we are a part of it, even if our part won't show for another few years.

Let's stop blaming the government and our law enforcement agencies, for once. Let's stop blaming the tobacco industry, the pharmaceuticals, the gun-makers and the hunters who use them. Let's stop blaming capitalism, fanaticism, fundamentalism, or any ism. Let's stop blaming television programs, video games, books and novels. Let's stop blaming the schooling system, or the underpaid and under-qualified teachers. Let's stop blaming bad parents and dysfunctional families...

Let me correct that... let's not blame these institutions and elements as if we are removed from them... let's not pretend we aren't a part of them.

Blame OUR mode of government, OUR enforcement of law (or lack thereof), OUR capitalist, fanatic, fundamentalist or other ideals, OUR over-indulgence in tobacco, medication and guns, OUR television programs, video games, books and novels that we print produce and make available that propagate and fantasize violence, OUR schooling systems, OUR under-qualification to teach our children, OUR bad parenting and the dysfunctional families WE create...

Truth is, as jarring as this experience may have been, we really don't know what else to do but move on with our lives. It's the way we have been trained to deal with pain and death. The only one's who have difficulty moving on are the persons directly affected by it, but even they will eventually move on, and years later there lives will be no different than ours, and this will just be a memory, albeit a very painful one... but still, just a memory. And there is nothing wrong with moving on with life. What is wrong is moving on as if nothing ever happened. We may have been about as directly involved and responsible for Badar's tragedy as for the ongoing tragedies in Darfur (not at all)... but that doesn't mean that we say our prayers and never think about it again. If there is anything we should feel guilty about after a death resulting from violence, it shouldn't be the continued calm in our own life, it shouldn't be the music we still enjoy in our cars, it shouldn't be the jokes and the laughter that are a part of our life or our character. If there is anything we should feel guilty about... it should be not resolving to ensure that neither we nor our children ever in any way become directly responsible for an act of violence. We must stop to consider if we might be contributing to a future act of violence by encouraging prejudices and intolerance in any form, be it for a person or an ideology. We must consider if we are raising ourselves and our children to consider alternative ways of dealing with attitudes, persons or events that may not be palatable for us so we may avoid resorting to violence, either in action or in words. We must pay more attention to the choices we make, more attention to the choices our children make.

I pray for Badar's soul, but more than that, I pray for his surviving family. Badar still has plenty to pray for him.... His family has one less person to pray for them. I pray that God may give them strength to endure and peace to resolve his death, and that He may strengthen their love that it may bind them together and comfort them. Badar will never come back, and the only solace for his family will be that we, society, take something from this grief... from their grief... and resolve to do our bit in preventing another act of senseless violence that could steal a son, a brother, a husband, a father and a friend all at once, just like that.

Intro...

I began with the idea of an intriguing introduction to my blog, something that would be the best reflection of what my blog really is in under 300 characters (that's the limit for the intro). Then something happened and my intro suddenly had a fairytale setting, a place my husband says I tend to spend a lot of time in. I would resent that remark, if it weren't so true. So I figured the intro would be appropriate. My blog is supposed to lead my readers... ok, reader... into my mind and the random thoughts that reside therein, and since my mind is usually in lala land, that would be a great setting.

My original intro was very similar to the one below... I didn't realize it went over the character limit and although it remained on the blogpage for a little while, my intro reverted to the original two lines I'd posted and I lost all but what I could recall of it from memory. The new intro has the same premise as this one, but fares lesser chances of deletion because it fits the character limit. Here's the original:


The breeze whispered something, causing the wind chime to tinkle a chuckle.

She turned her head to look up, curious of what had transpired, when a hundred glistening beads rolled off her head... some like crystal clear gems, others still rough but with the twinkle of a hidden jewel inside... sliding down her long flowing hair, falling to the ground with the music of fresh summer rain.

The breeze gasped.

The wind chime froze.

“That feels better” she said, feeling much lighter now, light enough to even fly, she thought. She knelt on her knees and began to gather the fallen beads into her dress.

“My, what a treasure you have!” exclaimed the wind chime finally.

She paused and thought for a moment, then grabbed a handful of beads in the cups of her palms and raised them up to the wind chime.

“You may have some of my treasure,” she told the wind chime, “and take some for your friends.”

Nothing's changed. We've just donned a different stereotype.

This entry is in response to a blog entry at knicq.blogspot.com questioning "Do you accept this Pakistan?" that complains how certain vices and former cultural taboos have become commonplace in our society, perhaps in our attempt to mimic the apparently successful west.


The truth is, these concepts that we purport as western vices are actually universal. These vices are as old as time and stem from the single vice called "indulgence", over indulgence to be exact. The only difference is that the Americans and most western countries, being capitalists, have sensationalized it, promoted it and used it to become rich. What is obesity if not an over indulgence in food? And have the food giants not benefited from this indulgence? America is addicted to drugs... maybe not the illegal kind because that would benefit the poppy growers in Afghanistan, but the legal ones made by pharmaceuticals... so much so that you're considered strange if you're not taking any medication on a daily basis. It's almost cool to be seeing a shrink or to be taking drugs due to stress, anxiety, depression or any form of mental health issues. America is getting rich off of indulgence. Cafes, restaurant, bars and nightclubs all make money from a public that indulges in rampant dating, one-night stands and commitment phobia. Credit card companies and banks get rich off of interest earned on huge debts accrued by over indulgent Americans who try to keep up with the Jones', chasing after the American dream. Capitalism loses sight of moral, spiritual, professional or cultural boundaries for money. America's success may be capitalism, but capitalism's success is an over indulgent society.

However, as I was saying earlier, indulgence is not a western conception. In fact, if we look hard we will realize indulgence to be quite rampant in our cultures, even if not in the same context. What is religious fanaticism if not over indulgence in one's pride over one's comprehension of religion? Look around and tell me if you don't see families who indulge excessively in cultural clichés and customs or their own ideology of what life should be, such as an insistence on an arranged marriage even if the person chosen by their son or daughter is otherwise a fitting choice, or an adamant refusal to wed their children in a family that doesn't belong to their "zaat" or genealogy. And our indulgence in excess at weddings and birthdays and dinners is no secret either. Then, why are we so surprised? Is it the drinking that surprises us because it's unislamic? Well, when were excessively lavish weddings Islamic? When were half of those customs we perform Islamic?

This indulgence in drinking and other vices you mention has always been a part of our culture, mostly because we come from a land where most followed a religion that does not prohibit them or consider them vices. Our religious beliefs forced us to turn away from such indulgence, but where religion is weak, these vices will rise. Ultimately, we are country ruled by culture, in spite of our name as the Islamic Republic of Pakistan. If there is any resemblance in our practice to the teachings of our religion it is purely because religion was able to seep its way into what was mainly Hindu culture and Islamic practices became a part of cultural tradition. We follow it because people before us followed it. That is the definition of tradition, and tradition is what forms cultural heritage. Our cultural bindings are strong but our religious bindings are weak. The thing about culture is, it WILL progress, for good or bad. It will absorb and mold itself . Being blind followers of culture, it was inevitable that we eventually morphed into the over indulgent excess-loving community we have become, sharing a striking resemblance to the stereotypes that reside in western movies, TV programming, novels and books that have infiltrated our cultural boundaries.

These "stereotypes" of success are not consciously adopted as a means to be western or under the misconception of progress. We are simply fascinated by the images we see and wish to mimic them. Maybe we are fascinated because what we see appears better, but mostly it is just a child-like appeal for something new and different, removed from any logic or reason. It is a natural process, an imminent process. Culture is not selective in what it will absorb from the outside, and so, being a country driven by culture, we had no choice.

Of course, were we driven by religious values, was our faith as strong as we purport it to be as we chant that we are citizens of an Islamic Republic, things could have been very different. Even though we may not have been able to prevent such elements from creeping into our culture, we would have been able to make that choice of whether we'll follow culture or if culture will follow us.. The fanatics would urge to ban any input from the west that would propagate such vices, but true strength is in being able to face what surrounds us, but being selective in what we assimilate. Such strength could have led us to a more progressive culture as opposed to one that merely mimics the resulting stereotypes of western civilization.

Essentially we are where we were. We were always excessively indulgent. We've just donned a different mask.

Hoopla over a uniform...

What does our country really think it will gain by forcing Musharraf to give up his uniform? What will it gain by getting him to give up all that he has accomplished in his military career for the sake of being president or give up the presidency for the sake of being COAS? How much will we really gain by having a civillian president?

It's the principle of the matter, supposedly. Supremacy of the people must prevail, no matter what the circumstances, and no single entity must weild as much power over the country as the President of Pakistan currently does as jointly holding the title of COAS. Such power can be dangerous. It could ruin a country while it's leaders plunder and steal from it's wealth, and the public is at there mercy, unable to question, unable to protect what is rightly theirs. But wait... hasn't that been the the case in our country inspite of a democratic process of electing leadership?

Proponents of democracy cry about how our past elected governments were never allowed to complete their tenures, but would that really have made us better off? Back then, when we were engaged in a facade of democracy, did anyone think to ask our leaders... did anyone have the nerve to ask them: our country has incurred billions of dollars in debt... for what? What do we have to show for it? Where did all that money go?

Did we really have any accountability then?

The principle of democracy rests on the premise that people make informed decisions. That very principle makes the process inherently flawed in third world country like ours... for what if we attempt to implement this process in a place where the majority is at the mercy of a few, held hostage by its illiteracy, by its poverty, thus making it susceptible to misinformation, propaganda and blackmail? Would those decisions be informed? Would they reflect the true desires of the majority? Wouldn't the democratic decision in such a scenario in reality be the preference of a few?

This is not an argument against democracy.

Lets first understand that democracy is less a process of electing leaders and more an ideology of freedom. Let us realize that for democracy to have its desired effect at the national level, our people must first be empowered with the freedom to think for themselves at a personal level. The essence of democracy, the supremacy of the people, cannot be won unless we confront our personal hypocracy regarding the democratic process. Lets first ask if we really do believe in an individual's freedom to choose. The same people who tout banners demanding a democratic process of electing government do not believe in their grown children's right to choose their life partners or their career paths. We may eventually be able to swing a democratic election, but we will never win, even if the group we vote for does, not if we aren't honest believers of the process first, not if we don't believe in empowering EVERYONE with the right to choose, not if we think we know better and others don't, not if we keep making decisions on behalf of others without taking their sentiments into account, not if we don't consider ourselves accountable for the decisions we make.

Lets not blindly cry for democracy because we've been told it's right, but because we feel, we understand and we believe it's right. To institutionalize freedom with democracy, we must first believe in the right of each individual to that freedom. Only then can we make a democratic decision that brings in a government "of the people, by the people, and for the people." Until then, the process will remain flawed and we are better off with a despot who appears to have done more good than harm. He can keep the presidency and his uniform... until we're ready to make an informed choice.

Why I should blog more often...

Everytime he leaves, I feel my heart shatter into a zillion pieces. There's a lump in my throat I can't get down, a cry waiting to slip out, a tingling in my fingers aching to clutch his arm to keep him from going. I watch him leave, my eyes filled with sad, childlike desperation as I whisper a quiet prayer for something to change and keep him from leaving.

Then I tell myself... Fariha, it's only a business trip. He'll be back Thursday.

There are times my mind can get carried away, my imagination running rampant, taken hostage by nonsense fears. I woke up in the middle of the night and watched him sleep, watched him breath... the world getting warmer each time he breathed out. A thought crossed my mind that I tried to shove away instantly and for that reason alone I believe it became stronger.

What if this was the last time I saw him?

You're an idiot, I told myself. He'll be back before the end of the week, like he's come back before. You'll be with him soon like you always are. There's no reason to indulge in this nonsense.

But what if... ?

We take life and health so much for granted. But do we really know? When we say "Insha Allah" does that not inherently imply the risk that God may decide to end our life any time? I will see him Thursday, Insha Allah - if God Wills to let him live that long, or if He Wills to let me live that long. So my fear may not be so unfounded. It may not be nonsense.

What a child you are, Fariha! Grow up!

I put up this calm facade to keep him from worrying about me, but he doesn't know. In the hours after he's gone I try to recall and document every moment of my life that I have spent with him. I go through his closet just to sense the smell of him in his clothes. I go around, meet friends, watch tv, read a magazine or two, but I am just obssessed with the thought of him. I recall happy moments we've had with each other, and sad ones. Sometimes I'll laugh to myself and sometimes I'll cry. I'll clear out the memory of my mobile phone so I can receive his sms's, but not before painstakingly writing down all of his messages on a piece of paper that I will hang on to like gold. I'll scribble the corny joke he made yesterday on the back of my grocery list and stash it away in my "memory box".

I go through a milder form of this almost everyday as he leaves for work. It's not a paralyzing condition. Surely I continue my daily activities as any normal person would, except I keep waiting for his mandatory phone call. I think about whether he's had lunch or not, if his boss has been relatively good to him today, if he's drinking enough water, if he's driving carefully. And in one of those rare moments where I stand outside myself and observe, I find it strange that I am still so caught up in him, so desperate for him after almost 6 years of being married to him, still obsessing over him like a teenager with a crush. Oh, by the third year you're usually ready to toss each other off a bridge, someone had once told me. I remember when we met people in the first year of our marriage, couples who had been married hardly three or four years (no kids), they would refer to us as "lovebirds" and the wives would tell me that the excitement dies down after a while and things are much different later on. Different? Yes I guess they are. I don't think I obsessed as much the first year as I do now.

It'll be okay... just pray for him, for his safety, for his health. God will bring him back, just like He always does. Just, for goodness sake, get out of his closet already!!

You know that part about maintaining whatever sanity I have left? I really ought to blog more often.

Obsessive Compulsion about Shopper bags

My task lately has been to find space in my inlaws' house to stash away all of our stuff that shipped from Houston. This is no easy task, trust me, since all the cupboards are so full that noone has dared to open them for fear that everything will just fall out. Some of those closets haven't been opened since the dark ages. My brother-in-law suggests all of those closets ought to be set on fire and burned down but Mom and Dad refuse to part with anything. There was a tense moment (understatement of the year) when Humair suggested throwing everything out, and for a while it seemed our stuff would be spending it's days outside around the back of the house. Then, with some tact and diplomacy I convinced them to at least empty out the closets and see what's in there and see if some rearrangement could give us some space and once the closets are more organized, maybe it'll be easier to decide what to keep and what to toss. Humair wished me good luck as he flew back to Cairo last week. But I was confident... I knew I could arrange our stuff such that we wouldn't need too much space... just a couple of closets would be fine. I was able to put away most of everything in a day and in the process Mom and Dad actually agreed to give away some items that came out.

Rummaging through eons old curtains, sheets, rags, extension cords, broken toys , useless gifts, broken door knobs, half empty bottles of expired shampoo, several eyeglass frames with no glass in them, a box of saved teeth belonging to my brother-in-law (eww...), I discovered an unusual abundance of shopper bags. I found bags in all sizes, shapes, colors, some old some new, some plastic, some paper, some folded neatly, other's crumpled up and jammed into any space available. There were 2 "Kids 'r' us" bags" which I know are at least 20 years old because these are from Kuwait and Humair's family had moved to Pakistan by '84. I'm certain there are bags here that have seen more years than I have. And it doesn't matter if some bags are just to small to be used for anything other than whatever it was that came in it... they're all here, and God forbid anyone talk of throwing them out....

It's a strange relationship between women and shopper bags. There is this unescapable urge to save them. How can you not? You can use them for so many things. You use them to line the trash can (why buy those expensive "made for trashcan" bags?). And then sometimes you need to give someone a gift and it's always great to find a nice shopping bag from a good foreign department store (who cares if it went bankrupt and disappeared 15 years ago?) to give it to them in. You can use them for storage... sure you hardly ever store your stationary or all those rags in a plastic bag but it's a great idea and we'll get around to doing it someday. I've noticed this odd compulsion to stow away bags in myself. I used to think Ammi (my mother) was strange, the way she would check to see that the cleaning lady didn't run off with too many bags, or the really nice ones at least. Mom (his mother) is no different, except she may not exactly resort to hiding the really nice ones the way Ammi did.

I may be a bit too obsessive... I even have a hierarchy for my bags... the thin one's from the grocerymart are plentyful and not really pretty so they're used to line the trashcans around the house and I don't fuss over them much. But I must deivide them by size so that the appropriate size goes on the respective bin. Then there are the smoother, stronger department store bags, that are too good to use for trash and I'm sure I'll use them for something someday... perhaps to store clothes when I have clothes to store, or maybe if I ever have to give someone a gift, although I hardly think I will ever do that... surrender the bag I mean. Those are folded neatly and put away, out of the maids' reach so she may not take off with one of them. Perhaps the most prized are the little gift bags, some plastic some paper, with their cute rope like handles and lovely patterns, some of them actually from really nice apparel or shoe stores with the brand name printed across. You obviously can't give a gift in them, nor are they good for storing ANYTHING, but gosh, I just can't bring myself to throw them. Those I hide in drawers underneath all of my winter clothes or right at the back of the closet where they are out of sight and out of reach. Even then, throughout the year, I will find them tossed in the garbage by you-know-who, and I'll take them out, dust them and put them right back. Maybe in the evening Humair will discover that I took them back and we'll have a nice amicable discussion (another understatement) about it over tea. I know I have a problem.... but it's not hurting anyone... yet. Maybe someday my daughter or daughter-in-law can make me see I need to toss them. I think I'll be ready to part with them by then.... maybe.

Rambling... poor writing

I used to be able to write so well. I'm writing now in an attempt to salvage whatever skill I have left, but I realize my writing isn't quite as interesting, as elaborate, as thought provoking or as articulate as it used to be. Perhaps because I haven't had much to read lately. Since we moved to Cairo (less one month when we discontinued our subscriptions to various magazines in Houston), I haven't read a thing. Nothing. Sure, there are some websites on the internet I often visit, but lately I haven't had the time to go online all that much.

On one of the book shelves in my in laws' house I found a collection of some pretty good novels that I had always meant to read and somehow never had access to or when I did, never had the time to. We had to ship all of my books here to Karachi and I just haven't been able to find a good book store near our place in Cairo. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed a good book, as I conjured images and scenarios to play out the scenes in the book in my head... putting faces on the characters, imagining their voices. I could lose myself in a good story for hours at a time. I enjoyed learning new expressions, different ideas and perspectives and most of all, having more to think about... writing material.

Hopefully I'll be able to finish what I've started to read (Stephen King's IT, just in case you were curious). I've realized though, after having read through hardly a tenth of the book that I have lost quite a bit of the patience I used to have of waiting till I've read through the whole thing to find out how it ends. But I'm relearning it. Lately it had become surprisingly and quite annoyingly easy for me to become distracted. I couldn't sit and write a paragraph of email without getting up and almost seeking out a distraction... making some tea, flipping through TV channels, brushing my teeth, or simply walking around the house. Perhaps, besides the dearth of thought provoking stimuli, this was a reason for my poor writing. So I'm relearning to focus and patiently remain focused. Once I'm done, maybe then I'll be able to turn out pieces that are more than mere rambling.

Perspective

"It's really sad," said Humair of the state of affairs in Karachi: of the lifestyles of people living here earning measly salaries and wages, of the roads so broken and littered with filth and the shops so rundown and ill maintained. Last time we were here was hardly 6-7 months ago, back in February when we visited from the States and I don't recall feeling so dismal about life here. But this time somehow it seems to rub in more. It hit us quite unexpectedly, since this time were actually quite relieved to get away from Cairo and come home to Pakistan. Moreover, one would have thought that we would have found Karachi pitiable coming from the States considering we had a much cleaner and more organised culture to compare it to, ... and yet, oddly enough, we never really did. So why this sudden sting.. this sudden realization on this trip? It doesn't make sense.

Cairo is more like Karachi... more like a third world city, boiling over with more cars than it's roads can handle, more buildings per square inch than should be legal and more dust and grime than... well... just a lot of dust and grime. The contrast between Karachi and Cairo is less stark and yet it seems to accentuate the difficulties in lifestyle here more than ever. It's a phenomenon that I've been trying to comprehend, and now that Humair has left for Cairo and I'm here in his parents' house with plenty of time on my own, I thought, sifting through dusty closets that haven't been opened in 10 years (at least) searching for space for stuff that came out of our 20 ft container, somewhere I might be able to find some logic to explain this.

Don't get me wrong, we don't think Karachi, or Pakistan for that matter is a sad place to be. But people who live here do experience a difficult lifestyle. The work hours are much longer and wages much lesser, the cost of living is rising seemingly with every breath, the traffic is horrendous, roads have huge craters, and trash is everywhere. This is a third world country after all so what do you expect? Coming from the States, we seemed to think that Karachi had otherwise done quite well for itself and all of this was part of being a member of the third world.

But then we went to Cairo... also a third world country and living in Cairo took it's own getting used to, despite still receiving an expat salary and expat benefits. There is no doubt that life for local Egyptians is very hard. The cost of living has been driven sky high by the influx of expats in recent years and although the country must make beaucoup from all the tourism attracted by those five thousand year old Pyramids and mummies, there's no sign of that money anywhere. Perhaps the only thing better about Egypt compared to even the US is that the cost of petrol remains pretty low. But there's nothing more to rave about. Shopping wise, Karachi and Lahore seem to offer more than all of Cairo, unless you want to pay US prices for egyptian made items. So then why, after living in Cairo, does Karachi make us so sad? Perhaps because Cairo, as crowded as its roads are, as small and old as it's airport is considering the amount of air traffic that goes through it and God knows the air is filled with more dirt and dust than the air here in Karachi, life doesn't seem as dismal for the locals. The roads somehow manage to remain clean, and rarely do you come across a ditch in the road. Even people in the really really low income bracket can own a home of their own, albiet one that may be a hole in the wall with barely any plumbing and could fall over within the next five years, but everyone can afford a roof over their head. Here at home, we see relatives who work twelve hours a day, six... sometimes seven days a week, and still barely make enough to make ends meet. They can't even dream of having their own place just yet. They're lucky if they can pay their share of household bills in the home they share with their parents and possibly other married siblings.

Perhaps because we were expecting Karachi to be the same as if not better than Cairo, did the differences become more apparent. Things are definitely getting better and perhaps have gotten better since our last visit. It was just odd the way it struck us coming from a third world country and it didn't when we came from the first world.

Letting go... of pride

Perhaps it is just my pride that is unwilling to part with the comfort of the old and refusing to embrace the challenges of what's new, which would make it not as much of a helpless situation as I would like to believe. It's a decision I've made somewhere to keep reverting to thoughts of what was, and all I need to do is to decide otherwise. I wish it were that easy.

Humair's laundry came back from the Drycleaners yesterday and every single shirt is shrunk, there are stains where there were none and the socks now seem they were meant for a six-year-old. Unless it's the laundry service at a five star hotel, which you cannot avail unless you have a room there, that's how all of your laundry no matter how expensive will end up. Everyone here has the same complaints. My washer dryer combo doesn't dry the clothes properly... it's great at shrinking them, but not drying them. I didn't even know that was possible! Now if we'd like to replace our shrunken laundry, we can pay the same price we did in the US for a designer shirt, and get some poorly designed egyptian made shirt that looks bad, feels bad and won't last even a single wash cycle. It may be little stuff, trivial stuff, but it's enough to make us want to cry. With our every encounter with laundry ensue nostalgic recounts of our nice laundry room in Houston, weekly visits to the not-so-friendly but "they did a great job with my shirts" drycleaner, and occasional shopping trips to the mall where EVERYTHING was available and often on sale. It's almost impossible to move on!

Maybe this is all trivial, but this issue with laundry and other seemingly miniscule troubles are like tiny bread crumbs in the bed that keep us tossing and turning all night. But I suppose, in the end, reality triumphs; we must accept what is and work with it and stop living in the past. If we wait till we are comfortable in our new place, we may never move on.

So it's a decision we must make to never look back at what was, to look forward to making a new life here, to not let these little troubles drag us down and realize we still have it great where we are.... we could have been posted in Sudan, you know. The truth is, troubles are everywhere. If it's not one thing it's another. In the five years we lived in the US I don't think there was single day that we didn't have something or another to be worried or upset about, even if just slightly. It's in our nature to want nothing less than perfect, and in our blind pursuit we miss out on the good life that just passes us by, while we're consumed with complaints and regrets that may or may not be worthwhile.

Life, as part of the Divine Plan, is inherently designed to incite some form of struggle. How we handle ourselves during this struggle is our real test. God has gifted us with creative minds, made us resourceful and it's up to us to decide to make use of what we have. For five years we lived in what is considered the worlds most developed country. For four of those years we lived in locations which were not quite as developed as the rest of the country, but it's resources were never more than a couple of hours' drive away. We made such a big issue of it, so much so that we refused to start a family. So what if the hospital was an hour away? So was the one in Houston... about 45 minutes. So what if the hospital closest to us wasn't the best equipped? I would rather go to the one in Liberal, Kansas than the best one here in Cairo. We could have made it work.... I could have made it work, but when you're looking for excuses, they come running. Life may not have been perfect but in all honesty it was waaaaay better than what it is here. I think of all those wasted evenings that we lost in lieu of the stress of what would happen if our visas expired and how life at work wasn't as perfect as we had imagined. Now we feel stupid for having complained so much, and I need to make that decision so years later I don't feel stupid about now.

There is nothing wrong with wanting perfect, but there is everything wrong with expecting it. I can't wait for perfect to come or, for what now appears near perfect, to return. It isn't so much about being hung-up on the past than it is about being hung-up on an idea... an idea of what life should be like. Humair and I need to decide that as nice as that idea is, it isn't going to happen. We must learn to seek contentment in what we have in our hands and not wait to realize it's worth when it has slipped from them. Good things will come, but they will come with other struggles, different troubles. We have the means to overcome our current troubles. They may be inconvenient, but they are there. We are blessed that we have these means and should consider ourselves lucky.

So here... I'm letting go of my pride and all those ideas of "perfect". I may not have accepted my reality fully just yet, but I've begun a process, and that's quite an achievement in itself. There will be frustrations and I will still need to vent occasionally, but when is life not like that anyway?

Letting Go...

For the longest time, my computer's time and date were set to US Central Time, reflecting the time in Houston. Then one day, some eight weeks following our move to Cairo, I finally mustered the courage to face up to reality.

"Look", I told myself, "You're home is in Cairo now, not in Houston. You're not going back to Houston any time soon. So let go... let that clock in the corner of your screen show what time it is here and not what it is half way across the world, change your homepage because you don't have SBC Yahoo DSL in this part of the world, stop putting your toothbrush back into it's travel case whenever you're finished with it, and stop agonizing yourself incessently by attempting to calculate the time in Cairo everytime by counting 8 hours ahead of what it shows on your watch."

It was a harsh yet necessary talk, and after dragging my feet another week, I finally gave in. I fixed the time and date on my computer, set my watch to the right time, put away my toothbrush's travel case, and emptied out our suitcases completely and put them away. I stopped checking the weather in Houston, cancelled my email subscription for coupons and store specials from the Houston malls and Supermarkets, and stopped picturing how pleasantly sunny my kitchen used to be in the mornings, with clear blue sky hanging on the kitchen window. Here, my kitchen is devoid of any natural light, and the sky here is some brownish hue attempting to be blue but failing miserably. I kept myself busy with thoughts about getting new furniture and accessories for the new place, and figuring out the budget and groceries. I thought about my upcoming trip to Pakistan for Bhaijan's wedding and to clear our container from customs. Soon, Houston became one of the furthest things from my mind. I had accepted Cairo as my home, figured out some of the streets, made a few friends, started thinking about what lay ahead and everything was working out just fine.

On my way back from Lahore last week, I thought about how I should have gotten the battery changed on our watches while I was in Lahore because the last ones we got from the generic store in Houston only lasted six months, whereas the one's we got put in from that store in Liberty Market lasted a good two years. Then... a fleeting thought... I figured, no problem, we could just ask Bailey Banks, and Biddle next time we went to the Houston Galleria if they could put in some longer lasting batteries since they dealt in good watches... I suddenly stopped myself. "Fariha, we don't live in Houston any more, we live in Cairo."

Why is it so hard to let go?

Just curious...

I know that the furthest you can see on a flat plain or out at sea from where you are standing is about 6 miles, which would mean if you looked all the way from left to right, you'd be able to see 12 miles across. But when you're flying at an altitude of 40,000 ft., how many miles across the earths surface can you see then? Once on a trip to Canada from Houston we were flying at 35,000 ft. and the pilot pointed out Amarillo on the left and Okalhoma city on the right. Since it takes about 4 hrs by road at 60 m/h from Oklahoma city to Amarillo staright across on I-40, that would be approx. 240 miles, but we could see about the breadth of Oklahoma city plus vicinity further on each side. Assuming that it's about 30 miles across and adding the breadth of the Oklahoma city and vicinity and Amarillo, I estimate that we could see at least 300 miles across from end to end, but I can't be sure. Fyling to Cairo at 39,000 ft over Italy, from what i could make out of the land below, we could see 200 miles across to the right of the plane (where I was sitting) and coming to Cairo at 40,000 ft, Flying over Saudi and the Red Sea, I estimated the distance to be approx. 200 miles as well, meaning we should be able to see approx. 400 miles across. I wonder if I'm any where close to being right. It's not important, but I'm just curious...

God's Will...

Two months ago, I was told our furniture would be ready in exactly six weeks, "inshallah". That was about two weeks longer than the time any of the other places took to make an order, but I figured, hey, if it takes them that long then fine, as long as it comes out nice. Six weeks go by and I'm told it will take another two weeks, but it would come out perfect, "inshallah". I was a little flustered since 6 weeks was long enough as it was, but I thought maybe the guy is doing a really good job and it's just taking him a bit longer so I won't rush him.

Eight weeks and five days after the order was placed, I am sitting here staring at only HALF the order ("the rest will be there tomorrow at 6pm, inshallah"), and it's not within 1,500 miles of perfect, and I'm not about to let anyone blame God for their poor workmanship, ineptitude and carelessness! Come on, it wasn't really God's Will that came in the way, now, was it? Inshallah just seems to be the perfect excuse... people who use it to guarantee their promises seem to think of it as some magic phrase that instantly relinquishes them of all and any responsibility towards their commitments because they've just passed the buck to God. Now I'm a God fearing person and, yes, I do believe very firmly in the power of God, but you just can't blame God for things falling through if you didn't do what was needed to fulfil your commitment in the first place. I understand if there are things that happen beyond one's control, but how can you blame your own actions (or lack thereof) on God? Tell me you're not a great craftsman and so I should expect flaws. Tell me you like to go on vacation for weeks at a time and so I shouldn't expect to hear about my things till next year. Tell me you're lazy, you're absentminded, you're inept, you procrastinate, you don't know what you're doing... but don't drag God or religion into it. Take some responsibility! They love to bring religion into everything, but they forget the biggest part of religion... accountability.

I just got the call I was waiting for: "Sorry, your furniture will be late; it will be there by 8pm, and one table will come Saturday, but it will come out very nice......... Inshallah. "

And there it is... the magic phrase. Now it could come today, Saturday or next year, and could have a million imperfections; but I can't blame them because, you know, it's all in God's hands now...

Yeah, right... and it has nothing to do with the fact that the carpenter went on a month long vacation and he's not been making it up by working weekends or cutting back on his two hour lunches and tea breaks and now because of my screaming and yelling he's having to hurry up and do a weeks work in a day, not to mention he just isn't a good carpenter...

I'll believe it when I see it. Just get it here... and keep God out of it.