Music Heals

I was sick before I went. When I got there the power of the drums healed me. Seeing them all freed me. Old friends are so comfortable, new friends are made easily when the music plays. The Arabic drums has sealed the deal with my body along time ago, when it plays everything else goes away. Only the music stays. Happiness is in dancing, in friends laughing in hands joining. We need to dance more as a people, we need to laugh more as a people, we need to let go as a people. We need to be happy for awhile. The power of music is irreplaceable, the power of love is eternal. I am a hippy at heart and my wings spread when I dance and when I sing with my friends, freedom is dancing, moving and laughing and the whole air is different when people surrender to the beats. Who cares if they are watching, let them, The important thing is to let live. Life is great when the people you love are happy, the friends of the bride are some times happier than her, because they feel so much for her. The friends of the groom are sometimes more excited than the groom because they have seen him all the way,family and friends are everything. Without them who will you dance with at your wedding? who will dim the lights when you blow the candles of your birthday cake. Without them why would you use your phone. Will you always go to the movies alone. Without them psychiatrists would be making much more. Friends are dedicated loving people, always there when things are up or down. Friends dance with you when you are happy and lay with you when you are sad.

Music heals broken friendships and it even makes you forget your stomach ache. The dancers are the happy ones and the musicians are having a blast.

Faith

Days pass so quickly, especially those with no drama, I feel like I am losing my days and they are slipping through my fingers. Everyday I am a different person and the the same place looks different everyday. In the mirror I look different, in my skin I feel different, every little thing has an impact and everything I see leaves a stain on my being. Last year I was so different I lived in Lala land and my biggest worry was something that now seems trivial. I can remember there were always times I was miserable, there were always times I was happy, not ever was I always blissful. The thing that makes one romanticize the past is the gift of forgettfulness that edits all the pains and the photographs that are only taken when you smile. Although I know time is an illusion, and that I was blessed with many things through out last year, I feel like I am ten years older just in one year. I have seen parts of life I had no clue existed and I have carried the worries of someone I never knew would be me. I have experienced things and seen things I would not have seen or known about if I was just a girl in my parents house. Grown up world is not easy, grown up world is not simple. I remember them speaking of childhood innocence, and I never knew what they meant. Now I do, the more you know, the uglier it gets. Ignorance is a blessing, over thinking is a curse, not knowing about things can save you. I wish I did not know all the possibilities, I wish I did not know all the ways things can happen. I wish I had to worry about little, and I wish life was not so realistic. Reality checks can be shocking for a dreamer, truths like life and death can be traumatic for a fragile. Like my talented fellow friend and blogger said in her blog about thick skin being a good thing, I agree. I realize I had no skin last year, and the tough yet small tests I have seen have given me skin, still not thick but atleast now I do have a skin. I am not a scared little girl anymore and what they say is true, what does not kill you makes you stronger. When I am in a not so happy situation, or anticipating its happening it is the worst but when the actual bad omen happens, after the mourning, things get easier since you no more fear it happening, you already felt it, it is over. Of course the fear of going through it again still lives but some how you are relieved that you do not have to worry about a bad thing happening, it just did. Having nothing makes you fear less, since you have nothing to lose. Having more scares you more, so many things can happen, so many losses to mourn. We are all so vulnerable to accidents and happenings that can just happen, but we find strength and faith that whatever it is, it will be ok. We all need our drugs, some use their children, some drink, some smoke, some exercise, some over work, but everyone wants to lose themselves into something and escape the bitter reality. Some seek "Kundalini" the power to connect with the divine and reach bliss or a trance like stage of consciousness, where overflowing energy picks you up and fixes all aspects of your life like a pill. Without Kundalini I am depressed! Kundalini is sleeping inside everyone we just need to wake it up with yoga and more. That is what happens when you befriend reality instead of escape it, you realize the illusionary nature of this world and some how you are no more attached to the world of forms, you live happily yet your heart is protected and you fill the world with love. I am an addict of that and my being seeks that and without that well I can not just be.

The only way for me and many others is enlightment, how else can one take it? whatever it may be?

Aswan my Lovely

I dream of touching the earth with my bare hands and feeling it's insides and eating form its fruits, without visiting the supermarket. I dream of waking up to the sight of endless greenery and arabian palm trees that dance to the arabic music with their Egyptian identiny showing in the taste of their dates. I dream of waking up to the smell of my best friend; the river Nile. I dream of seeing the eyes of the cows and smelling the horses every morning. I dream of tanned authentic people wearing white loose clothes. I dream of the people who sing their songs and dance along the Nile. I dream of my boat and all it needs is the force of the wind to lead the way. I dream of a simpler life where I can breathe the fresh air and paint by the banks of the river and smell the growing pesto and the pure food that I grow with my own hands and pick out with the children. I dream of fresh milk and blue skies. I dream of life in Aswan away from the city and all the pretenses, all the molding and shaping that the other civilizations have dropped over us when they conquered us. I dream of a virgin land, surrounded by pure waters and trees that sing the name of Egypt and walls that carry the stories of my ancestors. I dream of life in white clothes and white light, as simple and tasteful as it can be, as close to the earth as possible and right under the sky. I dream of walking barefoot on the cold grass and sleeping on Egyptian cotton and dreaming happy dreams, I dream of a peaceful pace, life that is not a race, being on my land yet escaping the traffic jams. Escaping the stress and I realize there is no place with no problems but still there are places with less stress. Why are we all crammed up in the same place, it makes no sense that the world enjoys our treasures while we trap ourselves in Cairo, Cairo that almost thought of leaving us from all she carries of waist and extra people. lets spread, lets find another place, the Land of God is wide, the land of Egypt is not just cairo, before thinking of Dubai and the Americas, consider a place under your nose. For those who can be creative, those who can find work beyond Cairo, Katameya and sixth of October are not the horizon.

I want a simpler life where I can breath, walk and dance. Where I can see colors other than grey, black and white. Someday I will live in Aswan and I will teach the children about the Nile and I will tell them how the palm trees deserve more attention and the earth deserves more love.

Cleopatra and Marc Anthony

As years pass the female population of the modernized world become more unhappy.

Pressure keeps increasing and responsibilities and expectations of women keep increasing.

If you think about it the biological differences between men and women make woman naturally unhappier due to biological changes and hormonal fluctuations. Women used to carry the burden of child rearing and bearing along with home making since the beginning of time. Nowadays women are expected to be career oriented too or else they would be viewed as less than their working mom friends. Growing old has become a sign of defeat and inadequence, so along with fighting to keep her place in the office, and keeping her status as a mom and wife, she has to fight against the hands of time , because God forbid that she wakes up finding a wrinkle or that people see her grey hairs doubling by the minute.

In Egypt the moment a girl is born, her parents start worrying about her future marriage and praying for the day she wears a white dress. The boy however will be just fine on his own and his parents already resent the girl he will end up with. Some men still switch wives refusing to believe the baby's sex is determined by the father. Although many men have become open to the idea of fathering girls and accepting it, many others still think girls burden them with a fear of shame. Since a naughty girl will get pregnant, and a play boy will only be more experienced which is something that every girl wants and parents find pride in. This double standard is a cliche in the east however the case remains that the girl brings fear to her father and her mother will live to worry about her.

Boys however have it differently, parents want them exposed and street smart, and the older they get the more attractive they become. The signs of age only add charm to them and the silver hairs add nothing but glory to the crown of their heads. They do not even have to worry about losing their hair, what some men do not know is that some girls go crazy for the bold guy look.

For men it is a win-win situation, the messier they are, the sexier they are. The dirtier the beard the more attention they will be getting, and rolling out of bed all they need to do is throw anything on and they will be ready. They go to work and this is all they have to do, the rest of the universe is left to their mothers or wives, from food to house keeping to child bearing and rearing, they only have to deal with a professional job. They have all these pretty girls to look at and only if they are good boys they will not think of more. They can have a million affairs to tell about and it will only add to their prestige between their guy friends.

An Egyptian modern girl has to be smart, fun,educated, fashionable with two years of work experience, sexy yet virtuous , skinny yet healthy, religious yet secular and practical, fluent in two languages, all for being a house wife in the end. It is funny how some of the college girls got their diplomas just to impress their grooms to be, and it is tattooed on their foreheads that they are here to marry not learn. Studying at the American University in Cairo I could see all the good girls, the future wives sitting looking pretty, ready to be plucked for the alter, one after another, and the pride that the bride has is as if she won the the noble prize and her friends look up to her like a rising star. The boys usually want the girls who smoke their cigarettes in the bathroom and not publicly, they usually marry the girls they did not get too familiar with. Those with the curfews, and a frequent calling mother. The girls who say "mommy" in front of strangers when referring to their mother.

It is funny how all the guys I know call me to tell me find me a bride, when they have millions of girl friends, guys do not want to marry some one they know well, they want the protected good girl, and it does not make them monsters, it is just how they are now. Deeply Egyptian and traditional no matter how much they have travelled and how many Jessicas they fell in love with they want to end up with someone who agrees with their mother.

Egypt is like the U.S in the fifties, women are treated like second class citizens, only there to look pretty and be good girls, however they just got their freedom to join the work force. Everyone smokes cigarettes everywhere, and the public smoking girl just gained her freedom to puff and she feels like marlin monroe doing it. Everyone drinks like bootlegging has just become legal. Most common Egyptian men think treating their wives like doormats makes them more masculine. Girls talk with girls in gatherings and men discuss the stock market and macho macho issues. The word divorce is gasped to like it is a death situation.

Woman are becoming more unhappy and men are becoming more carefree, being a man is becoming more fun by the minute, just being natural and comfortable is enough. Now girls spend too much time and money on manicures and pedicures, on their degrees, on the help they need at home, on their shoes and so many details that they have to attend to just to look like every other girl. Between the gym, work, home, kids, and looking pretty, women have lost their smiles yet the Botox hides the facial signs of their frown.

Cleopatra carries the burden of her female sisters who are pressured to modernize yet keep their roots, excel in and outside of their homes, be supermodels and have the hearts of saints, and never grow old or gain an extra pound, know all that the western girl knows and have the traditions of her land engraved in her heart!

Cleopatra lost her smile and gave it to Marc Anthony as a birthday present and told him he can wear it forever and she will manage the multitasking without her lips altogether.

Cairo Today

What happened to the Egyptians?

The feast is like a fever that infects the young men in the streets with hyper active energy and a desire to roam the streets aimlessly. A staycation in cairo during the festive time can be relaxing, however a walk in the streets of Zamalek can be described as getting lost in a stampede!

As I walked in the street forgetting what a mistake that was, I felt like Simba the cub in Disney's Lion King when he was tripped over by the rushing stampede. I saved my self before getting stepped on or who knows what worse, by locking the doors of my car and rushing home like a thief trying to escape the police. So many analogies that can be described, not trying to romanticize my image or anything but for any girl not just me, it is exactly like a giselle when faced with hundreds of hunters or hungry animals, the fear, the adrenaline rush and the sound of ones pounding heart is the same.

They are thousands of young men with almost the same face. They have almost the same worn out or bleached jeans, with the same cheap cotton shirts, with their weak bodies, and under developed sizes, due to the malnutrition. In their twenties looking like fourteen year olds, with cigarettes between their lips, with baby hair over their lips, with their disgusting ways, they harass, in every way, with their eyes, with their lips, with their steps, with their everything they terrorize. I went down to get art supplies forgetting that the perverts spend their feast in my part of town during this time of year. Through out the year it is not safe, however during the feast, it could be fatal! They go nuts on the holiday, and they are from the male sex only. I wondered what happened to the female population? My mother explained to me that they are doing the dishes back home.

With our population we could be as productive as the Chinese, as dedicated as the Indians, we could be exporting people with skills, however the case is not so. the only thing we have perfected is creative ringtones for our cell phones, and the art of smoking up. No matter how low ones income is he or she will have a cell phone and will afford a pack of cigarettes. The masses of the once so great Egypt have perfected one thing creating more of them, the ability to make more hungry, starving aimless, ignorant, and sad individuals.

Divorce rates are 60 percent, garbage accumulated in the streets and nobody picks it up, we keep doubling in size, women work and men stay home, traditions and complexities continue to pressure the youth into marriages that end in divorce and men still think they are superior kings and women remain captive however the added burden of financially supporting their families has only added to their misery. Out of despair from this earthly life they keep covering more of themselves voluntarily, out of a need to assure their place in heaven, although their jeans remains tight and their attitudes do not show more modesty, and their striking colors of clothes scream look at me and do not dismiss me, the need to cover the hair stems from the continuos religious preaching on the satellite channels from religious media pros who manipulate people into becoming more submissive. Any one who speaks of change in the media, will not be free to go back home.

Taboos are still those that were a century ago: religion, sex and politics. Although people can speak their minds at home with friends without worrying about their cousin being a spy. Movies, soap operas, flu fears, religious manipulations, hunger are all keeping the people from any movements. The rich get richer, the poor get poorer and make more children and everyone is silently smoking up or getting tipsy.

Cleopatra as a Carioka

So when I asked my self where else do I feel home?

Another place, other than Cairo of course;

The answer was Milan and the vibrant dancing queen: Brazil.

I spent only seven days in Brazil but it was like a year of learning and sucking in the culture with all the details and warmth that it carries. If I can live in another chaotic, thrilling, alive city it would be Brazil!

The moment I arrived I felt my feet happy to walk on the ground of Rio. Even when still in the airport the peoples tanned skin and dark eyes made me feel home. The friendly smiles and the warm sound of the Portuguese language spoken from their lips sounding like music, was comforting immediately spreading a fun vibe, a happy vibe, a Brazilian vibe. Just walking down the street of Rio you feel sexier, happier and full of life.

When I visited Brazil it was at Carnival time, a magical festive time, a time when the whole nation dances and the introverts do not belong. In Brazil everyone has happy dancing feet and nobody stands still when the powerful sound of the Samba drums shakes your heart with joy.

Our beautiful hosts greeted us with what seemed like a dream come true, a sentence I never thought I would ever hear, they said welcome to the biggest party of the world. I was mesmerized by the sound of these words. I never thought partying could be a national thing.

In Brazil anyone can belong, Europeans, Africans, Asians and Americans and anyone can feel home. Although the typical Ipanema girl look is tanned with sun-kissed hair and an athletic body, the truth is any look can be a brazilian one since Brazilians are a mix of global marriages and all kinds of nationalities who migrated to Brazil brought their genes with them to the Brazilian nation.

The people from Rio have it all, the gorgeous beach, the beautiful mountains and the gift of music of-course. The whole country sings the same song, dances to the same beat and the samba moves everyone from their heart. The Carioka is a local from Rio, they usually wake up late since they were partying all night long, although the Cairene or the local from Cairo does not sleep early too or wake up early as a generalization of course, they do not stay up partying like the Carioka. The Carioka can samba, can sing, loves meat, loves food and enjoys life. The female body in Brazil is celebrated and is a source of pride. I found a lot of similarities between the Egyptians and the Brazilians. They both live for soccer, love music with powerful drums but sadly the Egyptians have lost their joy and love for life. Dancing has become a sluty hobby, and judgement has scared the woman who belly dances nowadays. The female body is neurotic not a source of pride or celebration. It should be covered, it has become a source of shame for low income families. Egypt used to be as happy as Brazil until the fundamentalists spread their vibe and made everyone travel to dance and hide to be joyful.

Egypt and Brazil both have a huge gap between the rich and the poor, however on the beach everyone is Equal in Rio. In Egypt on the other hand the rich are protected behind huge bars and beaches are segregated by class, and even religious outfits have separated us on the beach. In Rio everyone can enjoy the beach in a bikini in flip flops everyone is equal. In Brazil I felt like there is no anorexic complexities , everyone embraces their curves and size does not matter the way it does everywhere else. Finally I enjoyed seeing beautiful curvy proud girls dancing in the streets protesting the media's obsession with the models in the magazines as they do the steps of samba in their high heels and feathers.

The brazilians suffer from extreme poverty like the Egyptians but there is no segregation everyone is equal in the eyes of the carnival. Rcism does not exist so many dynamics of complexities disappear behind the loud drums of the samba music as it shakes your body with joy and life. It is impossible to be unhappy in Rio during Carnival time. Street dances stop traffic and the competing Samba schools train all year for the days that the national show of the most beautiful colorful parade happens. Three days of competition and the masses parade in elaborate costumes and people from all races and all ages dance and sing the song they learned together and to my surprise I was in the parade too, wearing a costume, doing the samba with my racing heart in the middle of the moving wave of people, singing in Portuguese with them words I never heard before I moved my lips and I could sing along. It was like a miracle and the locals called me a Carioka how I could sing a language I could not speak and words I did not hear or understand but I understood some how, what they meant, they meant we love life, we love music, we love freedom, we love dancing we are all one. Everyone was equal in the costumes, the seventy year old ladies, the children, the old men, the white, the black, the rich and the poor all danced to the same beat.

I realized that the power of dance and music unifies the country and they hold on to their traditional dance and they are proud of it, I was sad remembering the extinct belly dance and the fear to dance that has infected my country and all the complexities that complicate us rather than unites us. We have an amazing treasure of Egyptian music and even different dances from every part of Egypt but the people have forgotten it and feared it a long with judged movement to music as a thing they were too rigid to do.

Finally I was at a place that I am not a freak to feel like dancing, i felt like home, the happiest, warmest, most joyful place on earth is the carnival in Rio. Beauty, love, dance are all celebrated. Food is eaten, steps are taken, people unite, people dance together rather than harass each other, and anyone of any size feels desirable, and music fills the air.

To your disappointment the likes of Gazelle Bunchen and Adriana Lima do not roam the streets but out of every 50 girls is a brazilian goddess of beauty and out of every 50 guys is a brazilian symbol of masculine perfection. But everyone oozes an attractive energy and is proudly enjoying being in their own skin.

They are a people not scared to celebrate their beauty and not shy to dance their dance and sing their song when everybody else sings a borrowed song, they sing their songs and celebrate their existence.

Since my trip to Brazil I have dreamed about dancing schools in the slums of Cairo that can free the struggling souls who retreat to fundamentalism. If we gave the deprived children of egypt the gift of dance and music who knows what kind of dangers and anger they could be saved from. Like the Brazilians all we need is music and unity! I dream of a day when walls are broken and freedoms aren't stolen and women are not ashamed of their bodies and the people of Egypt can dance and sing together freely without fearing harassment or judgement, like they did once before, how come before they knew much more? May the people of Egypt lose their blinds, their fears, their anger and all the rigidness that stole the power of music, beauty, art and love from our world. The Egyptians created the Belly dance and the brazilians come to dance it here since they have no fear. I realized that in a past life I was definitely a Carioka.

There were days that Cleopatra was as happy and free as a Carioka.

Freedom from Face-book and more

Now that I am not on facebook anymore, I have time for useful things!

I get more stuff done, the creative process is at work. I even have time to contemplate on my life, I have time to plan more things, I call more of my friends, I get in touch with the real people in my life. I feel like my vision is clearer with less clutter in the background. Suddenly I know who my real friends are and who are just names on a screen. I feel like I have reached a deeper lost part of me. I feel free, I feel light. I feel that I am who I used to be. My energy is not wasted on 100 percent useless spying anymore, I do not waist time coming up with status updates and I even came up with so many ideas for an important project . I had real conversations on the phone with some of my family that I relied on sending face book messages to communicate with. I use my phone more, I check my mail more. I write more useful emails, I have time for my real life. I even focused more on my house and had time to remove some clutter from there. I am forced not to be a procrastinator because I have less stupid things to do so basically I get things done! I got out of my house more, since with face book I always feel like I am always with everybody, so I do not miss anyone anymore. Now relationships can be real, privacy can be regained and limits are back to my life. I am happier although I confess my fingers keep typing the words face book on the keyboard by mistake, actually because it has become an automatic reflex, and I confess I felt the urge to spy and see what is going on again, but no I am stronger than that, I kept my self back. I can not go back that soon, I am not even happy there, my life was slipping through my fingers there. I do not want to be just another face in a book, on a screen somewhere, I do not want to follow the herd, I felt like I was being forced and hypnotized, doing what the face book creators wanted me to do. So many times we just follow the ad people's orders like they were the boss of us. They call it pop culture or the power of the media. I am sick of this 24/7 continuos orders that I keep getting. "take a break!, have a kitkat!" Just do it! nike!. The last egyptian Coca cola ad was literally "Get up get a coke", thats just plain rude not even a please?, and there are the ads that tell you indulge!, and mobinil's fun new ads are all about Talk!TALK TALK! it is a telephone network that in every occasion orders us to talk!!

Why do they keep telling us what to do? And why do we listen? And from where do they get all this authority in their voices on t.v. With a very low confident voice the same voice tells us what to do from an ad to a different one selling different products and we are all the suckers who obey. Who says you want to just do it?, what if you want to think more about it? take your time or better yet sleep on it? Why aren't there advertisements encouraging you to do what you want? If I came up with an ad it would be an ad to fight ads not to take their orders, to protect vulnerable kids from obeying and to tell people are you doing it for you? or because the ad said you should? Do we need more orders and controlling people to direct our needs, tell us what we want to buy and what we should be doing? During this ramadan I have taken more orders from advertisements than have I taken from my parents as I was growing up and I have never listened to so many lies like I did this month. 

My point was I am very happy that I quit face book, in fact I am relieved! Before I do something from now on I will ask my self, do I want to do it? or does the media want me to do it? or do my parents want me to do it? or do my friends want me to do it? the answer should always be: I want to do it! Unless I am pleasing my sick grandmother by wearing the earrings that she got me of-course,I do not want to be a pop culture victim any more I want to be the real human being that I am, not the face book member, not the coca cola drinker and not the nike just doer.

I am free!! Join me?

I left!

Yesterday I  did something I have been wanting to do for a while now. Finally I did it and it freed me. Freed me from the spy that I was becoming, always finding my self seeing things I have no business in seeing. I freed myself from all the time I have been wasting doing something that is not productive in any way. I freed my self from all the information that I did not want to know. I liberated my self from so many group invitations and so many friend requests from people who are not my friends. I feel like the moment I pressed the deactivate my account button two wings were created on my back and as I roamed my apartment doing simple errands, I felt lighter. As I went to bed I felt safer like a part of me came back to my body and I am not as open to the public as I was. Face-book can be a great way to keep in touch with old friends and it can also be a horrible way to lose so much time and to bring people you were grateful  for not having to deal with anymore back to the front-lines of your communication circle. Some one once said there is a good reason why certain people are out of my life. You suddenly become too reachable, too exposed and anyone can tell you anything anytime, there is a certain thrill to that in the beginning and then you feel captive or choked like a social prisoner of some sort.

The brain can also suffer from an addiction, I found my fingers typing face book. com automatically and many times I find my self hypnotized checking face book for no good reason and doing stupid things there for a long time. 

I find my self checking pictures of people I have no desire of seeing their pictures, and then I feel sick for doing that like a creepy spy. I find people who I do not want to be seeing my pictures always commenting on my pictures and we are not even close with the daily comment I feel like I am on the lap of the person that is not even my friend and never was. I have no problem with publicity I love to be interviewed in an article, written about somewhere and here I am blogging about my life to the world but I realized I do have a problem with face book. Some thing is weird about it and it is embarrassing to ignore a friend request, it is awkward to meet these people who used to be bullies, behind the screen they become angels with sweet comments.

The status update can also be too much. The last thing I saw was a friend telling her husband something that only he should hear, it is not like she is Kim Kardashian or Megan Fox that people would enjoy the extra information. Why do I have to know everything about their personal life?

Some one else's status was Jane just wake up from the longest nap, who cares I wanted to ask.

I updated my status too but deep inside I felt how lame that can be in the eyes of others.

Also did you notice how everyone looks good in their profile picture? Now in real life they do not but on face book somehow everyone is a star. I have no problem with that but I have a problem with the obnoxious posers who in reality are anything but model material. 

So much kissing ass and so many fakers, so many liars, so many spies. 

There is also the terrorizing join my group requests and then the showering of group messages that you are daily exposed too. 

The last thing that led me to this bold move as I feel it, is an unfortunate event on face book. A young woman who used to do yoga with me passed away and I found out from her relatives' status. Her relative meant well but I felt it was too much how she announced it with a sad face in the end. It was something that gave me chills and changed my biology as a whole, when someone we love dies we can not just put a sad face from the keyboard, it is too much. And the way people wrote stuff on the woman who passed away's wall was just too scary for me. 

They even created groups for her, they all mean well but when it comes to death face book can be too much.

Something great is being simplified and commercialized and publicized and handled by many in away that I found was not respectful enough. I could not take face book anymore and the boring person who spies behind the screen that I have become, how everyone can comment about me and how so many groups burdened me with their messages. Something was creepy, something was fake, apart of me was suffering online. I realized my need to reach people can be satisfied by my blog and my phone, and I do feel a great relief. Maybe when I am ready and able to control my privacy more and the number of times I check my face book, maybe then I can go back but now I am just very happy for this freedom that I have got back. I feel like I lost my chains and all of me is back in me not scattered on a wall waiting for comments and messages all the time. When face book becomes a source of stress it is not fun anymore.

I do not want my life to be pictures on a wall and I do not want people I know to have so much to say about that all the time 24 hours of the day. Adam sandler's character in his last movie " funny people" said the more friends you have on facebook the less friends you have in real life.

He then cursed facebook it was funny in the movie. I always envied the young people I know who are not on facebook now I am one of them atleast for now. 

I hope that I did not offend anyone in anyway my good friends know how much its a pleasure to be in touch, we do not need facebook we have our phones.

the itch to babbel

This is about the itch to write, although not sure what exactly about.

The restlessness until published, the unease that comes until you are freed by saying whatever is trapped in your throat. Writing it down is actually therapeutic, it is like aromatherapy for the soul like a massage for the tired body. like putting down a huge bag of stone after carrying it up on the long staircase. Your shrinking chest expands. Then you can breathe again and face the mad world again, the world that can be unbearable if you are not supported, if you are hollow, if inside you do not find a place comfortable enough. If you can not find refuge somewhere, where will you go? Please do not act like everything is ok and easy and that you got the world on a string, we all know how vulnerable we are, how breakable we can be and how our hearts can be shattered and how our worlds can anytime collapse. The question is how do we manage and focus on the now knowing that anytime anything can happen? It must be faith, on some level we all have it or else how could we go on and live our days and sleep and trust the pillow? How could we trust tomorrow and what might it bring? If our existence in itself is questionable and not permanent, why do we worry so much about the stupid things?

how do all these people live and be so confident, how could people stomp their feet on the ground that stands beyond their time and before it. This world of visual and touchable is too small to be it. There must be more, we all know that. 

How wonderful is the world when things are happy and fine, when you finally feel home at your own house. When little things fail to conquer you and you finally take control. Being in charge not the victim, not the prey, not the follower. Taking care of someone, taking charge of something, feeling needed somewhere somehow is enough motivation for a whole life. That is all we need. To know that we are needed and our presence is not replaceable, and that our character is not forgettable, the thing we want to be sure about is that we can not be comparable to any of those who took our place. And that we are loved unconditional and I come to realize that our dearest need is to be watched. When I was growing up I thought a camera was filming my every step. We love our parents because they watched us along our journey they saw us through our stages. They saw our first steps, our graduation and when we cried they saw our tears and kissed our heads. In love an essential part is that someone sees your life as it happens. Someone witnesses it and to them you are the star and the rest of the world are extras. We all want to be the focal point, nobody wants to be an extra at-least to their dearest ones.

 I want to be the sun and I love God because he watches over me and I know for sure that every thing I do is witnessed, the essence of all relationships is looking at someone and the more undivided your attention is the deeper the love. The more exclusive the gaze is the more passionate the love is, nobody wants a lover who adores and looks at everyone else too, love is jealous and demanding or else it would be just good will.

When things are fine and we have peace of mind why don't we recognize how amazing that is?Why is it only when something drives us crazy do we remember our peaceful days and mourn them? Why can't we realize how lucky we are when everything is fine? are we thankful enough?

Do we need to be reminded of tougher times? We take it for granted when sleep comes and when we can have fun, we live like hypnotized souls going through errands and routines until something shocks us and we try to remember our normal life and we feel bad for not knowing how precious it was.

Can we remind ourselves of how lucky we are to have peace of mind right now, can we enjoy our blessings as much as we suffer from our misfortunes?

Are we wired for happiness or sadness or just blankness? 

 

Everything I need to know I learned in Kinder Garden

This is the name of the book that I found in the pocket of the seat in front of me as I was flying somewhere on a plane. Unfortunately I lost it too like the person who lost it before me. If you had not read it, it is a beautiful book that  delivers a powerful message in an innocent simplicity. Now that I think of it, I realize that the book has a life of its own, maybe I lost it so someone else can find it, to be lost on a plane means this book might be traveling the world by now from hand to hand. From forgetful good people to others it might be changing the world. 

I will never forget what the book said, although I lost it, the message will stay with me and here I am trying to keep the flow of it. Like paying it forward, from person to another the simple message will spread. The author had an interesting approach to life saying that if only we did not forget the things we learned in Kindergarden life would have been so much better.

For instance, learning to share, if everybody shared there would be no poverty. Not taking something that does not belong to you, that concept if applied would really end wars. Tell that to the greedy governments who decide to steal their neighbors land. Saying please and thank you, who ever says that all the time spares the world of all the source of trouble.

In kindergarden they teach us to hold hands and stick together as we face the big world, if we all did that wouldn't there be more love in the world. Imagine the sight of grown ups holding hands as a group and supporting each other.

The author brings up an interesting idea, in kindergarden every one takes a nap together and lights are dimmed as peace fills the place. What if the whole world would nap at the same time, wouldn't it bring more peace to the world? I remember clearly how the author described napping time as an amazing thing for grown ups to keep doing.

The above is all I remember from the book but I go on to add to it some of my perspective, after all it's my blog not just a book review:

 In Kinder garden art is an essential part and children are free to be creative and that keeps them pure. If you watch children they are all creative artists painting and using color with the freedom that only the masters have at the end of their journey. Picasso said every child is an artist the problem is how to stay one when they grow up. Society takes away a child's freedom molds them into some kind of robot and takes away their imagination. But we are born free artists, free little people. Some keep that, some loose it. 

One of the pleasures and greatest joys of my life is watching my niece and nephew who are both younger than four, as they live their life, away from their nanny, who makes it difficult to reach them. I realized my nephew walks like he is drunk, moves like he is drunk and he is hilarious, all children are funny, but we socialize them to lose their sense of humor. My nephew inspires me, so does my niece but she has been socialized already. Although she is irresistibly cute she already acts like a big girl and that saddens me. But he, he is free the way he was made to be. I picture him if he was a grown up who acts the way he does now, people will call him crazy, but many others like me would love to be his friend. He acts like a drunk rock star, like a free artist and he does not want to conform to any rules. He experiments with his mom's heels, he is still too innocent to realize society will question his curiosity towards the female clothes. he plays with the praying scarf and raps it around him self like a monk. He stands towards the Qibla and brings his forhead to the ground, with an instinct towards worship. He knows more about God than many grown ups do. His hair is long and golden and he is not afraid of judgement since in cairo parents are phobic to boys with long hair, he is innocent to all that. 

He does not care what we think and he dances to the music in his soul, he is created cool and every move he makes is naturally cool. His face has no chub like babies do his body is of a tiny athelete, he is a small free little person may his parents keep him that way and may they fail to socialize him to conform and may he never be another brick in the wall. Because he is different and hopefully they will not take the artist away.

She however is a star loves attention and attention loves her back. Uses the right words at the right time and can make you melt when she makes you feel special for a second. Watching them I always have tears in my eyes , because I love them so much and they are so tiny. They have confidence that is divine and inner strength more than mine. They have innocence like all the children.

My other niece lives abroad and that hurts more than anything else, every time she has to leave I cry a sea of tears. She is so cute that it is indescribable, she has the japanese baby vibe and she likes to touch the ones she loves. When she talks it is slow and she stares at you making you forget the world around you, with her big eyes she captures you and sinks you in with magnitude and she is so tiny yet she is so powerful. When you are caught up in a conversation with her she takes you from the hypnotized state to a sudden smile and giggles that seal the spell and make you for ever an obsessed lover. She is so innocent yet sometimes she is cruel. Like her mom she loves to play with people's feelings, a natural heart breaker. From the softest cutest voice comes an aggressive scream that makes you laugh. She is hot tempered so do not get on her nerves. Her brother is still too tiny to describe but he lives in a state of sleep and between his long naps he eats, but he does ooze a certain wisdom that I never saw before. What I find magnificent is their power, I think it is purely divine that these little people have confidence and inner strength and they stand up for them selves and scream and cry at anything they do not like. They do not take anyones shit, they have their own group and everyone has a role and watching them play and talk is my favorite drug. I could forget about my worries this dry reality and all the mundane as I get lost in their details and the sizes of their feet. 

The way their day is set is so pure and fun, the things they watch are all so comforting, happy endings and colorful clothes. Lunch and nap and a walk in the park, I find happiness in doing the things they do. Being a nanny is the most pleasurable job if you think of it, you are payed to take care of an angel and you are protected from the grown up world. Mothers are expected to do other things too so their brains do not melt but I would rather have a melted brain than leave an angel behind with a stranger who enjoys all the things that I should be enjoying. I realize it is not easy taking care of your own child without help but suffering from the green eyed monster like I always do, I would be too jealous to have someone else enjoy all that I adore and get payed too.

First I thought why do we bring children into this sad world? and then I realized it would be a sadder world without them they light it up and make it spark. Until you have your own, keep your child inside you alive, the free artist, the peace maker, the spiritual, the sexually curious, the one with the imagination that can create worlds and end wars. 

Their honesty is admirable and how they say exactly how they feel in front of who ever and want what they do at the times they feel it. They are true to them selves and they do not care if  a word is not supposed to be said. They are a breath of fresh air and we make them seem crazy for acting the way they do when actually we are crazy not to act like them or to cover the crazy being inside us, so people would not judge us. 

If only we did not kill the child inside us and turn into boring grown ups, If only we still remembered what we learned in kindergarden, we would have been happier people.

Only dull grown ups need so much to be happy; some need alcohol, some need a cigarette, some need coffee, some need tea, some need cocaine, some need weed, some need pipes, some need cigars, all things we managed fine without as kids. Actually we were happier jumping on the bed or running around in a garden, than we are now with our pretentious posture and our hands filled with poison. We did that to ourselves put on so many masks and made life so difficult that we need toxins to go back to our natural state. While bliss is naturally a state all children reach every day as they play as they lay in the arms of the one they love. We want to be grown ups and grown ups can not be happy easily, because they have to complicate things. Maybe if we keep things simple along the way we would not need so much to be happy. A gaze at a child would be enough, a breeze on a hot day can be satisfying. If only we stopped pretending we were grown ups that have to walk and talk in a certain way and smoke and drink so people do not think it is easy for us to enjoy our existence in a natural way. As if it is wrong to be simply free with an empty hand and a smile, like it is never enough, if we let our self be free we would be naturally drunk and high like the child.

Stop thinking so much, play a little, paint a little, dance a little, wear what you want, say what you feel, let the crazy fun sleeping person inside you shine and do not be so scared to talk about what you think, about what bothers you, about your sexuality,  and your undeniable need and love towards God.

children do that, watch them, learn from them. 

Last Night

When I complained about my numbness enough it finally disappeared. 

during the holy month of ramadan the last ten days are very special, and there is one night that is even more special. It is a magical night that has been divinely described to us as a night better than a thousand nights. And in deed it is, it is not for sure which night it is, but scholars have predicted that most probably it is the twenty seventh night. Being a romantic such descriptions and poetic depictions make my heart melt. Especially that I know that these are the words of God. I realize that the relation between one and his creator is deeply personal but I can not help it that I want all the people I love to get closer to God. 

It is not right to compare but on a much much much smaller scale, it is like you have a friend and you want them to meet your best friend or your mother or your father. The closer you get to your new friend the more you want them to know that amazing parent of yours or that incredible best friend. It is hard to accept that your father will never be friends with your new friend, it is actually painful to see your friend who you care deeply about not willing to spend any time with your best friend or parent. 

There is this whole world in the relation between one and his divine creator and it just hurts that so many good people fail to experience it. It is like getting married with zero romance, since in every step of the way one knows God is here but the failing to communicate is like being married for practical motives. There is no magic in the practical life, there is no romance in the life of  the being who's heart does not pray every step of the way . I was deeply depressed before I found my conversation with him last night. I had forgotten about how comforting it is to talk to the one who knows me best. I knew how distant I was and how in this ramadan i haven't done all the things that pave my way to him and prove my love to him and show my need for him. I was caught up with my ego my flat self and my boring existence, but finally when I could not bare it any longer I found my way back. He is always in my heart but it was like we have not spoken for a long time. Speaking his words loudly with great concentration is  an amazing meditation. All ways lead to him and for muslims our fasting, our prayers are our way to reach him.

Without contact with him I am dead, I strive on the romance with him and like a child running to his missed parents I run back to him.

My best friend told me when I complained about about my distance from him, she told me the beauty of him is that you can always come back to him and he will be waiting. I wondered who else is always waiting? Who else will always be there? Who else's silence means more than a thousand babbling ? If you call hard enough for him,  all that matters is your true desire in him. he will be there and all his angels will come and hug you.

 You who are so distant realize what you are missing it is a whole world of romance and light better that a thousand nights.

As I prayed I realized how similar the muslim prayers are to the sun salutations in yoga and how close the movements are. The poses are very similar, and it gives a similar feeling. 

It is so much nicer and more comfortable to be supported by him, than to carry all your burdens alone. It is so amazing to know you are not alone. It is great to have him surround you, it is truly liberating ridding my self from my pride and sticking my forehead to his ground and confessing how little I am. 

Last night I wish I went to a group prayer, the power of the positive energy combined, gives you strength for the whole year, but I could not leave the house. However there is an intimacy in praying alone in your room one that can not be compared by anything else.

Me and my family believe that which ever night you feel it the most is your magical night, however something about last night was obviously special. Last night it was dark yet the sky was lit with white light, last night it was so quiet no dogs were heard barking. Last night prayers were heard more than they do on any other night. Last night I met my lover and we united all night, until the sun rose and things were less magical again. 

I wondered what if every day of our lives was a leilet el qadr? What if our hearts were awakened every night of our life? What if we did not drift so easily? and what if our desire for unity never slept?

Numb

This is one of those ramadans that I have been bad, and it really bothers me. When you spend some of it abroad it kind of numbs you! Well some stronger believers do not suffer from that but I did. I confess it is easier here to fast between millions of fasters and a supportive family that has a delicious table ready at sunset. It is easier to fast when the national television has prepared shows that make the day slip through your fingers if you stay home and decide to be lazy. But still it is not easy. Atleast for those with low blood pressure and anemia, it is not easy. When you grow up with a role model who prays and reads a lot of Quran and fasts like it was not an option not to,  it is  easy as a child to develop that need for unity with God and to find your self doing the same naturally. But it is weird how different you behave once you separate from all the things that remind you of that. 

Yesterday I was alone in the house and three times I was going to faint, I rise from my bed to open the door, someone is there, all I see is black. My ears stop sensing sound, my feet start tingling and I get dizzy like I am about to fall. That happened three times, out of weakness I can not function and like a sick old lady I can not move all day, and it does not get much easier after the sunset. For those of you who are not familiar with the fast, many people can function fine and they can do everything really well, it really is just me.  

Some one told me not to fast and that my sickness does not serve the world or God and that I should help people instead, do something good for the world. It really makes sense if you think of it, but I can not do that. Especially that I did not fast in America or Serbia so I could not live with my self like that. So what if I can not function, so what if I am almost fainting? So what if I suffer a little? It is only one month isn't it enough that I am numb? that I didn't do all the things I am used to doing?

I wasted the precious month, I wasted so many chances, caught up in my eternal coma, knocked out all day and night, still jet lagged in my cursed body, useless and earthly. So chained up in my physicality, I do not even drink or smoke, what is it that destroys me so much? How could simple foods be so important? How did all our ancestors do it? How did they get through it?

Someone I love is fasting with me and to me it means the world and beyond that we share the suffering.

 Last year I was better, what happened to me? Why am I so numb? So disappointed in my self, so surprised at how far I have drifted when I promised not to drift, not to be so distant. 

Don't you?

Don't you feel betrayed when your friends tell you about a project they have been working on only as they reach the finish line?

Don't you feel betrayed when your friends take up your hobbies and secretly make them theirs?

Don't you feel betrayed when you wake up to find the person who was sleeping next to you already left?

Don't you feel betrayed when you find two of your friends that you introduced to each other have made plans and you were not included?

Don't you feel betrayed when you find out your close friend has been in a relationship but kept it a secret from you?

Don't you feel betrayed when someone steals the words from your tongue and calls them there's and signs their name?

Don't you feel betrayed when your old friend becomes your relative's new best friend?

Don't you feel betrayed when your loved one publicly criticizes the things you believe in?

Don't you feel betrayed when some one buys exactly what you told them you are gonna buy?

Don't you feel betrayed to find out your two best friends are much closer to each other than you are to them?

Don't you feel betrayed when you know certain gatherings have been held and you were not included?

Don't you feel betrayed when people see your loved one in places he or she did not tell you they were at?

Don't you feel betrayed when certain gazes take longer than they should? and certain hugs are warmer than you expected them to be? and certain hellos are happier than you thought they would be? and when the one you love praises someone a little too much?

Don't you feel betrayed when you start to hate someone for your friend and find your friend dealing fine with the person you learned to hate? or better yet praising them after you complained about the supposedly disliked, and you did it to morally support your friend.

Don't you feel betrayed when your friends are making friendships with your enemies?

Don't you feel betrayed when you are disrespected by friends of friends and no one stands up for you, or even takes your side?

Don't you feel betrayed when your family or friends were around when someone you know does not like you spoke badly of you, and they did not stop them.

Sometimes I feel betrayed just to know people were speaking my name, people I do not trust them with my name.

Don't you sometimes wish some people were not allowed to mention you. 

Don't you sometimes wish that if anyone doubts you there will always be people to stand up for you? like you do for them.

Don't you wish you would know what to expect from everyone?

Don't you sometimes wish you could see a place before you went?

Don't you sometimes wish you understood why certain people are so cold, or so bitter?

Don't you sometimes wish you knew how your moody friend of a friend really feels about you, since sometimes they are nice and sometimes they are not?

Don't you sometimes wish people would remove their masks?

Don't you sometimes wish people would rid themselves of their insecurities?

Don't you sometimes wish you knew exactly what happened?

Don't you sometimes wish that you knew if it was worth it or if it is just a waste of time?

Don't you sometimes wish that at least the people you love the most share your beliefs and back you up especially when everyone else is around?

Don't you sometimes want to be alone?

Don't you sometimes wish there were no games and things were what they seem?

Don't you?

Arabic

The Arabic language is so warm

when traveling for a long time my ears are thirsty for the sound of it

for the ring to it

for the feel of it

for my comfort to it

Between the crowds of California my ears spot the sound of the arabic words even if miles away.

When we dine in a lebanese restaurant in California and an arabic song is playing my heart dances with happiness to the beats of the arabic drums.

Certain notes do not exist in the western music, beats that symbolize certain emotions that only exist in the arabic world. Certain words do not exist in the english language but they do exist in the arabic language, because certain feelings can only be felt by an arabic speaker, one who knows about the desert and the pains of separation. 

The sound of certain arabic instruments can make me cry and the sound of certain words out of certain people's tongues can make me melt.

Words and feelings and things that the english language will never comprehend, will never translate and will never depict.

When Omar El Sherif speaks of love in an arabic movie it means so much more than when he does in an english one. The Quran when recited by an amazing voice in arabic can make hearts of stone bend and feel something, however when translated in English it does not have the same effect. 

Our grandfather told us of stories of people who can not speak arabic but weeped to the sound of the holy book recited in its original language.

The magic of the arabic language can not be compared by any other. I will never miss another language more than I miss the sound of the arabic language.

Maybe that is because it is my first.   

who are they?

who are your real friends?

are they the people you see the most?

are they the people you used to see a lot?

are they the people you call a lot?

are they the people who return your calls?

are they the people who call you the most?

are they the people who know what you go through?

are they the people you enjoy your time with the most?

are they the people you can count on?

are they they the people who make you feel good about yourself?

So they are not the people who you never see and they never see you.

They are not the people who used to be your friends

they are not the people you never call

they are not the people who never return your calls

they are not the people who never call you

they are not the people who have no idea what you are going through

they are not the people you do not enjoy your time with

they are not the people you can not count on

they are not the people who make you feel bad about yourself

It is hard to anticipate the end of a  friendship, to recognize a great one, and to keep an ending one.

We all need a friend but not all of us can tell which one we do not need. It can be extremely painful to see the signs of a friend losing his title, and on the other hand it can be extremely joyous to make a new one, and very comforting to keep an old good one.

I'm an alien I'm a woman in Cairo!

Being a woman I feel like I am the exception. Walking down the streets of Cairo, thirsty for the culture and all the details that I adore, taking it all in when suddenly the same Egyptian people that I miss remind me why I love to travel. I walk in my moderate dress code, and half of my body is covered with the my big painting that I carried from Safarkhan Gallery (by the way it is the gallery that I show my work in) to my house, and all the different men remind me how captive I am in my feminine body. As I walk with every step of the way I realize how alienated I am everywhere I go. The police security of the embassy has to vocalize his opinion about everything about me. Saying things ranging from : What is this beauty in ramadan? Show me the painting, Beauty, honey, sugar and all the package of compliments that I never fail to be showered by. Every where else in the world compliments are appreciated here they are harassments. I was wearing loose jeans, I was wearing a huge top, my hair was held up, my painting covered most of my body and my bag covered my back, however they managed to make me feel naked! 

Big wide dark eyes popping out and slightly open lips and scary comments, making me feel like walking fruit not a person. The same man I give food from the window of my car is the man that scares the shit out of me as I walk two blocks to my house. Zamalek is supposed to be safe, usually the biggest danger is the verbal harassments, however the way the street is lit, the way the men stare and comment from the side walk, the way it is silent all combine to create the perfect setting for a horror movie. If I can not walk in the street and feel safe in my own country that I love from the deepest part of my heart, then where will I feel home? Where will I belong if I am alienated for the way I look and the sex I belong to, in my own country? 

I wondered why I keep quiet as he says all these things, like I am a silent apple walking waiting to be eaten. Why do I act like prey and why is it not acceptable that I tell him to behave him self or else I will call the police. I have anger inside me towards the man that scares me as I walk. Many times as I walk in the street I have found men take off their pants, suggesting what I can not imagine. Of course I scream and run and now you understand why I am traumatized. Anything is expected from the men in the street, they smell female pedestrian and they start barking like dogs on heat. It is ridiculous  that me and the female population fear the simple right of being a pedestrian in the streets of cairo.

Walking in the street of Beirut a street shout out is more of a compliment that makes you smile, however one freak also took off his pants on his motorcycle when we were walking to the mall there. But that is the exception in Beirut usually they compliment not terrorize. I am sure I am not the only one who experienced the traumatizing vision of man in the street taking off his pants, and I can assure you that when I walk in the street I am not in a bikini. I take care that I do not provoke the masses.

 

They shout things that offend you to your core as a woman, as a human being, and you are lucky if you are not touched too. They say things assuming you have no ears or no ability to stand up to yourself, like the fact that you are woman deprives you of abilities like hearing, or responding. What is expected of you is to walk faster in fear and they get their satisfaction from watching your fear and smelling it. I wondered what would happen if I asked him what that will get him? No girl will ever stop and smile and give him her number like that, If he behaved like a gentleman then maybe he will have his own girlfriend instead of terrorizing the whole female population and spending his days alone. 

They blame the free music channels that have messed up with the desperate single poor men of Cairo. They blamed the lebanese almost naked singers in the video clips who sing seductively, they say it is more like soft porn and the people can not handle it. They say the music videos have frustrated the people and turned them into sex monsters. I disagree, I know media is powerful but it is not an excuse for the men in the streets to act like dogs and expect all girls to shake it for them in the street.

Thank God my days at the American University in Cairo are over, it was in down town Cairo and everyday as I passed the street or tried to reach the scattered campus I would suffer from all the comments and often even quick touches from perverts filling the streets. The new phenomena is also the veiled girls from the public schools they would harass too like lesbian little monsters. And because they are girls they find it easier to grab me too. Play with my hair do anything they please because to them I am not a person who can respond. They steal your voice along with your ability to stand up for yourself as they rush through you like a strong wave that slaps you around and takes away your dignity. 

People say it is a conspiracy how some powerful people want to keep the masses occupied by an obsession for sex so they could not get together to question the state of this country. So they do not get political, they deprive them of the basic needs, keep them hungry and horny they will never think beyond that.

I do not know what to say to that, if that is true then  these people must have horns and tails and red faces. 

Things are falling apart and unless you have a tall metal fence surrounding you and your family, it is not safe!! I was in my car with my two girlfriends at the festive time of year when the hundreds of excited men stormed downtown cairo and harassed girls and took their clothes off. It was a jungle!! Men would stick to the windows of my friend's car and pound with their hands and their big huge eyes staring and their tongues hanging, we were terrified. We were going to a wedding so we had pashminas and scarves on, so we covered all we could of our selves and 

locked the doors in panic. I do not know what they expect that we leave the car and hug them like we missed them?

Another time i was with my mother and the famous soccer team won so people stormed the streets like animals and they stopped our car and opened the doors suggesting we go down. I screamed with my loudest voice and the man had to leave the doorknob so his ears wont fall off, we quickly closed the doors and locked again. 

They have become aggressive and we have become submissive. I know a girl who took the man who grabbed her ass to the police and filed a complaint. She was a foreigner of course, that is where she gets her guts. I wish I did that too but we are socialized to be scared and silent as things like this happen to us. As girls in Egypt it is shameful to even repeat what happened and the government acts like an ostrich when it comes to harassment.

If only there were strict rules and punishments for harassment, maybe it would not be so bad. In dubai the strict rules and punishments make it perfectly safe for girls to go where they want and do as they please. I think jail or an extremely high fine can stop this, but the bribes will again make it impossible to regulate properly.

In dubai any man who harasses a girl will have his picture in the newspaper and more severe things happen to him. If we apply this here the whole newspapers will be filled with pictures of the people. However fear of punishment and shame can really put this disgusting problem to an end.

I am tired of feeling like I am food, like I am an alien, like I have no way to stand up for my self, like it is perfectly normal that I am scared and that I can not walk in the street.

If I knew anyone in government who has the power to make laws I would beg them to do something about that, millions of Egyptian girls walk the streets of Cairo in fear and they are harassed every day as they go to work or school, who will stand up for them. Can the man who makes the rules worry about them like they were family? 

It is just me

We were invited to Break our fast at our friends house. So I am thankful that I do not have to struggle again in the kitchen alone. We get there and I walk in with my high heels and I get the same comments I usually get: what is this? you are too tall! how did you get so tall?

 

The following are the reasons I wore them:

1. My husband is tall

2. I bought them for hard earned money and I want to wear them.

3. They look nice, and I want to look pretty!

Apparently when you are already tall, it is not appreciated to be taller, so I take the easy way out of the situation and I take them off. It was a beautiful gathering, our hosts we love and they prepared everything with grace and care. I am the only one walking barefoot but I think I was the most comfortable one there. 

I ate my longed for meal, and suddenly I felt my body getting heavier and heavier like metal was replacing my bones. The beautiful host had candles lit everywhere and they made it harder for my eyelids to stay open. Everyone was normal as usual, mature, in control, alert, standing tall with eyes wide open and strength to talk, and energy to walk. Except for me, my eyes hurt as I tried to keep them open, and continuing a conversation without sinking in my seat seemed impossible. All I could think of was their bed in their room and how comfortable it looked as I caught a glimpse of it when I went to pray in their kids room. There was also a big comfortable purple mattress on the floor and it was talking to me, in their children's room. It said come sleep on me, come rest for a while, you are tired I know, I am soft and comfy, I will show you how.

I was about to jump on it and float to sleep heaven but I remembered how inappropriate that would be. I could see the people, I could see their lips moving but at a certain point it all blended in and like a machine with low battery my intake slowed down and my ability to respond went from normal to very slow. My husband noticed his tired wife's in ability to cope with the post breakfast activity, so he took me home. I told him it was great but I am physically incapable of sitting up right after we break our fast, and I am also incapable of that before we break it too. We thanked our hosts and I almost fell in the middle of the street like I always almost fall in my high heels, and straight to my comfort zone we headed. home sweet home, where my feet can be horizontal and at the same level as my upper body.

It is not funny how tired I am, how I am incapable of socializing at those times, I hope anyone can understand. Over there I look around me and I realized everyone else is fine; So this is why it is just me!! So bare with me.

It is not a common thing, It is just me!

Sharing is caring

I got this email and I wanted to share it with the world, well the part of the world who will come across this.

Put your name instead of mine after Hi and think of it as a letter to you.

Hi mennah!

I understand what I am about to say may sound crazy to you, but
allow me to suggest the possibility that you have been totally
brainwashed and you have unknowingly become your own worst enemy.

In fact, this is exactly what is happening to millions of people. 
And most likely, you are one of them.  

What I am talking about is the SUBLIMINAL and SUBCONSCIOUS
programming you are getting - programming that is imprinted on your
subconscious without your knowledge.

I am not saying there is an organized conspiracy to program your
mind. The people that are spreading these negative messages
don't even know they are doing it!

The problem is as you are exposed to these mind viruses, you are
likely to be infected. Just as exposure to raw sewage can cause you
to be infected with germs, microbes and other nasty things,
prolonged exposure to the media will infect your mind with many 
nasty viruses. Society spends billions of dollars to protect
us from biological and computer viruses. Yet a mind virus can be
the most dangerous of all.

One of the best things you can do to prevent mind viruses is stop 
following the news. Don't watch TV, don't listen to "talk" radio, 
don't read newspapers or magazines that have the news in them. Why? 
Because they all make their money by selling fear, lack, scarcity 
and limitation. Bad news is what sells.

Open the average newspaper and you will see that 90% or more of
what 
you read is negative news. The percentage is about the same for 
radio and TV.  Do you really believe it is important to find out how
many houses burnt down, how many people were robbed or killed in 
your city, state or another country? Do you really need to be 
reminded of the economic situation every day?  Being exposed to all 
this negativity creates a negative view of the world and negative 
thought patterns in your mind.

When I tell people to skip the news, they invariably ask, "How will
I know if there is a major world tragedy or natural disaster
heading my way or terrorists striking near me?" Trust me. You will
know about all the big stuff you need to know. Let's face it,
the vast majority of your friends and neighbors follow the news so
they can do the watching and reading for you. You still won't be
able to escape it completely because most restaurants and shops now 
have the TV news on all day long. So if something major happens,
you 
will know about it.  

I haven't watched the news for the past ten years. I don't read the
newspaper either because I don't want or need to know about all the
bad stuff. My life is about creating good stuff. Eliminate the news
media from your life for the next 30 days and see what I mean.

Today will bring you a new awareness, a lesson or a manifestation
that you are making progress - IF YOU LOOK FOR IT!  No matter how
large or small, please record it. It will only take a few moments
and will AUTOMATICALLY put you in the Flow.

Truly Caring for Your Success!

What he does not know is that I do not watch the news or read the papers and I never did, UNLESS  of course I am in the news!! 

So I figured this must be a message for my blog readers not just me.

yours truly

me

Super Woman

I am helpless without help. People do not recognize how much work it is not to go to work.

It takes countless jobs not to have an out of the house job.

One must master the art of cooking= chef!

One must master the art of cleaning= housekeeper!

One must master the art of keeping the interiors of the house looking good= interior designer.

If one has children, one must master the art of teaching= becoming a teacher to the children, setting an example every step of their way.

If one is married, or living with their loved one, one must master the art of courtship= i think we all know what that is.

I think it is no joke what a home maker does especially without help!

Contemplating

The few days left for me to experience ramadan here, i am clinging to. Although my weak body is suffering, although every time I get up I black out, although I could  feel my stomache stuck to my back and my body so light and easily breakable, I am enjoying my vulnerablity. I googled the biological benefits of fasting, it is really a detox and gives your liver time to rest from all the work it has to do when you drink or eat. Besides the spirtiual benefits, there are physical benefits to food deprivation. With  little fuel I experience lightness all over along with light headedness. I wasted most of my Ramadan abroad I could not fast there and I could not even feel it in the air. A big part of Ramadan is experiencing it with your family. It is so easy to forget about it abroad when everyone in the street chews on sandwiches in daylight. When work hours are not altered to meet the needs of the fasting being and the day goes like it does any other time of the year, it is so easy for one to totally block the fact that ramadan is slipping away and it is forgotten. 

What makes us who we are is our deep engrossed traditions, beliefs and things engraved in our core while growing up. If things are not carved in our being as children it may be very hard for us to scribble them on again. Where we are and who we are with have a huge impact on who we become. Everything stains us, everything leaves a mark, people shape us and places mold us.

It is very easy for us to slip away to blend in and to lose our essence while trying to fit in.

We change so much everyday we are not the same people we were last year, not even yesterday. So many things change nothing stays the same.

Back to the freak show

they are in their late and early twenties and they dress like late forties!

they greet you like they were sleeping with u last night and you pushed them off the bed.

Every time I am invited to a big gathering I forget what I learned last time. 

I have to remind my self:

1. Not to bend and kiss the seated girls because they do not even shift in their seat even to act like they attempt to rise just one bit. They do not even move their neck or eyebrows not even to fake a movement. I wondered if their eggs would hatch under their seats if they shifted parts of their buts.

2. Not to say hi with any excitement because everyone else is talking out of an ice cube.

3. Not to worry about what I will wear because anything I wear wont fit in with the common style.

4. Not  to try to make conversation because it is not allowed that people not from the same group talk. 

5. Not to start walking towards someone I know to say hi because they will think I am desperate.

It is hard to remember all of this. I realized it is a sick stuck up society, however a lot of times the hosts you love and you want to go and do the right thing. Me and my normal friends took a side and started laughing. Saying we get better hellos from our building porter and sometimes we want to hug him for that. 

I remembered California and how the stranger in the street said hello with more warmth than the ice cubes we meet here. My friend asked me if the problem was with us I told her for sure it is not, and I proved it with the people in the streets of California, Brazil and even in Cairo and that they could greet better.

Shortly we left, tired of the codes that we do not abide by. All the subtle rules of rigidness, heaviness, aloofness, and keeping a distance, things we find hard to apply. The worst part of living here is all the unneeded complexities that people create.

Next time I will remember that creme de la creme does not expect good greeting and will not reciprocate it. 

Help!

It occured to me, I am a fifties house wife!

As I fold the laundry I wonder if my years in colledge were worth it.

Without help, a wife becomes the help. Atleast the help is paid, but you are not.

If a woman leaves herself to get sucked in house work her life can slip through her fingers and she can wake one day to realise 10 years have passed.

In many other countries life with no help is possible, in Egypt it is not.

I find it hard to sustain the professional realtion with the help.

It ends up turning into a friendship. Unfortunately they do not respect a friendly boss.

I realise something is wrong with me, I do not know how to act like a bossy madam.

Today at the interview the potential maid and her agent laughed when they saw me.

But you are too young they said, how old are you?

I told them I am not too young I am 24!

She said I can not call you madam because you are too young.

Suddenly I felt like I was the one who was trying to get the job, I was belittled and the power imediately went to them.

I am not good at the games that come with the egyptian madam and maid relationship.

The last helper who came here started out fine when I kept a proffessional gap as soon as I let down the wall of proffesionalism and began treating her like family, her frown arrised and pleasing her became an impossible goal of mine. 

I do not know why I always feel guilty about the idea of getting help I try to  make up for it by destroying the proffessional relationship with my friendly ways. I carry a weight of guilt on my shoulders as I find the help doing their job and I end up letting them go, because they turn my life into a hell with their endless needs and impossible requests.

I am still learning but what I know is: I need help!!

uncomfortable

The jet lag is a curse. Life with it is so hard. Breaking my fast out of my home is hard for me. I seriously need to lay down after my deprived stomache gets some food. I do need to put my legs up and it is not acceptable because guests should not get too comfortable.

Traffic is an energy drainer, all the shoulds and have to dos steal our days away from us. From Weddings, to Birthdays to Baby showers and more, by the time you attend everyone's event your left with a life of traffic jams and running around trying to make it to all these different places while leaving your dreams behind.

The only people who managed to go after there dreams here have given up on social obligations or have left the place.

We expect people to come to our events, we dread going, they dread coming, they end up going, we end up having to abide by the social norm and making these events that we are not up to, and in the end we all put smiles on and entertain each other, because we love each other but the truth is many of us would rather  stay in with those close to us and have our legs up and wear comfortable clothes. But we all end up going because we love our hosts, we all end up inviting because we love our guests. The question is: what percentage of people really enjoy the whole process? 

Change

Have you ever slept so hungry that you woke from dreaming of delicious food on your tongue making your mouth water?

Well that is how I woke in the middle of the night and ran to my fridge in excitement trying to make it before the fagr prayer marks the begining of my fast. It always gave me a thrill to catch the last sip of water before the call of prayer. 

It is my first time to experience ramadan out of my parents house, I never thought I would be the one buying the groceries and making the decision of which kind of soup will be the star of the meal. It is at those times like Ramadan when change really hits you. I look around me in my apartment and I ask my self  how did I get here and when did all of this happen? 

I visit my mom to where my only home was and suddenly I realize I have become a visitor and now I belong somewhere else. My parent's familiar faces suddenly become less familiar and my husband's face becomes as familiar as my own. I became an extention of him rather than them. I used to wait for him to come visit just last year and now they wait for me to come and there is always a time that I leave. 

I start seeing the beauty of our family's house I do not take it for granted anymore, I start appreciating all the details that my mom pays attention to. And I look at my sister and I can not beleive I am married like her, she was always the big girl and I was the baby, how come now we are both in similar boats?

I never thought I would really leave, and after one year it really hits me that I did. I look at him and wonder how come we got this far in so little time and now we are family? How am I living with a man? How come this house has no grown ups? Where are my sisters? As events happen you get cought up with all the things you need to do and all you think about is how much you can not wait to leave your parents house and live in the arms of the man of your dreams, and when you do, no matter how happy you are, you look back and remember that it was not so bad back home. You did not have to worry about a thing, you were a spoiled princess and you did not even enjoy it, because you did not know how much more you are supposed to be doing in the future. Running a house is not easy, I was introduced to things I did not know were part of life, when I was cought up in lala land.

Grocerries, laundry, dishes, paying money to so many people who show up on your door step and keeping track of so many mundane details, that you had no idea existed can be a surprise.

To all the girls still with their parents; enjoy the pampering while it lasts. To all our mothers: how do you do it so good and for all this time? I realise I still do not have kids and I am talking like that, I realize I do get help and I am talking like that, but food, clothes and making a house into a home can be a fulltime job.

Mother I am sorry I took all the things you did for granted, how did you manage to manage so gracefully and always looking so good? 

God Bless you mom, I never thought we would be visitors in each other's houses, I am sorry I always burdened you with my messy room.

God Bless you dad I never thought another man would make my dreams come true, I am sorry I go home with someone I love, who is not you.

I love you now more than ever, I miss being a part of you.

Heal Serbia make it a better place!

If you want to know about a country's culture, attend a local wedding. We were invited to a Serbian wedding, to my surprise Serbia is in no way European. If Serbian traditions were children their ancestors would be a mix of Greek, Turkish and Russian. Before the ceremony the grooms' friends meet with the groom. So does the bride's friends, they too meet up at a different place, to meet and greet I guess and start the day in the right mood. At two p.m. we were schedualed  to meet at a beautiful cozy courtyard for early drinks and three musicians set the mood for the day. In broad daylight unlike Egyptian traditions the event starts. We were expected to meet at two p.m. Mingle and get warmed up for apparently a full day of celebration.

While an Egyptian bride would be taking a siesta, resting or getting a massage, a Serbian bride would be already in her dress with hair and make up on.

   We  went to an ancient church filled with iconography and paintings of Jesus and all the saints covered the wall and ceilings. I love churches, I love all houses of God. In this Wedding, in this church; we all stand up during the ceremony on both sides of the bride and groom. The holy bond is sealed as the priest recites long passages from the Bible and an invisible choir sings as chorus in angelic high notes, soprano I guess. They sing from a high hidden balcony that only shows a fence and the back of the mistro. They have a lot of different traditions, very different from the Catholic wedding I attended before. The priest covers the holding hands of the bride and groom with a white hankerchief like we do in a muslim marriage and asks the blushing bride questions and she answers with a soft modest voice, and then he goes on to ask the groom other questions and he answers in shyness and joy. The church is filled with scents, exactly like those we put in our mosques and homes back home. It was strangely familiar, I figured this must be the Turkish influence. They both drink honey as a symbol of a hopefully sweet life. and then they walk around, three times to symbolise a life of longevity and happiness. They then kiss and everyone sighs. 

It was interesting how the father does not walk the bride to the groom and how the famous here comes the bride music does not play. People now were heading to the wedding reception or party. On our way out we were harrassed by gypsies wearing rags and looking like dangerous pirates, young kids and old women begging infront of the church just like they do back home in Egypt infront of mosques, but here they even kneel to the ground. It seemed so familiar yet scary how the toothless middle aged woman spoke in her deep voice. She was demanding and she would not take no for an answer, I do not speak Serbian but I'm pretty sure it meant give me some cash. I could hardly walk in my heels and she was not making it easy, however in my dress I did look like I had money, what she did not know was that in my tiny bag I only had room for my lip gloss and phone to text my mom and sisters. She did not understand me when I tried to tell her that.

The bride and groom left in their cute classic red decorated car and off to the reception destination they led the way. We all followed in cabs especially those who came from abroad like us. Our names were printed on little cards and every name was assigned to a table number. I looked at the number of chairs in the place and realized Serbian Weddings are intimate compared to common Egyptian ones, where those you once said hello to would pout and carry grudges if they were not invited. It was an indoor white wedding and food was served from the very beggining, as tables were being filled with seated guests, something funny happened. One of our friends who came from abroad got a little too drunk and disrupted the event with an endless need for attention. 

She took control of the ceremony and photographer like she was the sister of the bride yet she was nothing close to that. I felt like we were in a Ben Stiller comedy as she dragged the photographer by the hand and asked him to shoot her with almost every single guest in the place. The whole place was looking, some were silently laughing, others were staring but no one knew what was going on and why this guest was behaving so. Apperantly her friends were used to this but the Serbians and the bride's family were in complete shock and wide eyes. She meant well her friends loved her but we were all worried about the brides reaction to the weird guest's behavior. Fortunately they managed to take her home and end the problem before it went out of hand.

Finally when all the guests were seated the bride and groom arrive and the whole room stands up to applaud their grand enterance. They eat sweet bread and dip it in honey I guess, and on to the first dance they swing and hug in love. The band was incredible two extremely talented young singers and musicians behind them, and they rocked the place all day long. The first love song described the place : "love is in the air" and it was. The seemingly shy crowd loosened up after a while of romantic songs and visits to the bar and in no time everyone was on their feet dancing and celebrating. 

When the Serbian music started playing the whole place held hands and started stomping their feet moving very fast in a big big circle of love and joy. It seemed very greek and very firm, the Serbian dance, yet very honorable and also soldier like. The hips and waist stay still as the legs stomp very hard very quickly in a specific count to the right and then to the left the whole circle starts moving the other direction at a specific count. They could go on for six songs straight, it was hard to keep up with them, they were singing from their hearts what seemed to be songs they grew up listening to. It was so clear to me how the power of the dance in the circle is universal and joyous. 

In Egyptian weddings too the guests gather in a huge circle and the bride and groom are in the middle and everyone claps and dances too. All the main things were common, they even had the video of childhood pictures which is also very common in Egyptian weddings. The maid of honor and the best man however play a vital role in a Serbian wedding. During the actual ceremony in the church they are supposed to stand behind the bride and groom holding a candle in each hand until the ceremony was over which was thirty minutes. They had to stand tall and still and they had to be comfortable with all the spot light, like it was their big day too. 

From two pm until two a.m we partied untill we could not feel our feet anymore. 

Many people sang beautiful songs to the bride and groom. Close friends and family gave little speeches including the bride and groom. It was very heartfelt and intimate. I did not know them well since they were my husbands friends living abroad, however after sharing the joyous day with them I felt like an old friend. We decided it was time to leave and we were heading back to the hotel with our amazing Brazilian friends. A perfect ending to this night was the music playing in the cab, it was Micheal Jackson. 

As I took the last look at the Serbian wounded buildings Micheal Jackson was singing my favorite song. Heal the world make it a better place for you and for me and the entire human race. There are people dying if you care enough for the living. The words were perfect in Serbia, the cab driver could speak little English but he understood Micheal Jackson's quest for peace. Our Brazilian friend was fascinated at the universal power of music. He said Micheal Jackson is gone but his music still plays. I could not agree more, the king's voice was keeping us company in Serbia, giving hope to a place tainted with war. It was the best way to end such a beautiful night.

We only had two hours to run to the airport and catch our flight back to Cairo.

 At the airport reality checks with me at the passport check. A young man sits behind the glass looks at my passport, looks to his right to his collegue and they both start laughing. I always knew I had limitations being an Egyptian, like needing a visa everywhere, but I never knew my passport was funny. He asked me for my sur name and I could feel my body burning with anger, I said Mohamed Hafez and again the man started laughing unconrollably as if I cracked a joke. They both spoke in Serbian again and continued laughing as he flipped through my passport with disrespect. With amusement he stamped it and let me go, and my husband thanked him, although I do not know for what. I wished I had the power to report the man, to call human rights, but I was afraid, I was scared, all I wanted was to leave this racist place.

I cried like a baby and it was more out of shock than self pity. I did not expect the world to still be like that. Serbia does feel like it is in another era, a time where racism was normal. Do not get me wrong there are many amazing people in Serbia however it is enough those people at the airport to make it a place I will avoid. I was sad not just for me, for humanity, for human beings to still be like that. I missed my counrty more and could not wait to be treated normally. I never thought I would experince racism for my name, I never thought I would get a glimpse of what history taught me about the Jews life in Germany, and what the African Americans went through in the states. It seemed like Hitler dropped some of his genes in the Serbian airport.

Still I did enjoy sharing the joy at the wedding and I did find it interesting to see a side of the world I did not know existed. The Muslims there should really move, it is so hard for them. 

I remembered Micheal Jackson's song and I prayed that God heals the world and makes it a better place for me and for you and for the entire human race. I once wished to see the world now I have to edit my wish I want to see just the kind world. Reality is unbearable and not everything is worth seeing.

I could have ignored all the negative, I could have done like my husband did, however I think selected focus is a blessing not an acquired trait. I wish I was built like that, like I did not notice so much, but I guess high perception gives you things to write about. Maybe it is ok to see things and feel things so you can pray for better things. 

May this world be healed, May it be a better place for everyone especially the children who will live in it. Thank God for talent, Thank God for kindness, Thank God for joy, Thank God for Music and the power it has to heal, Thank God for the art that Micheal Jackson left behind.

Heal the World Make it a better place.