Just writing

Universal language

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Have you ever understood anyone speaking not your language?

It can happen and it did happen.

Many years ago one of my neighbours was from Mexico. She moved to the UK with her husband and her little boy, about three years old. Whenever I saw her on the stairs or the road, she was talking to herself. My neighbours and I thought she might be insane but she wasn’t. One day I gave her a leaflet about the English course centre which I was attending at that time. I cannot describe how her face changed that day. She smiled and thanked me and I felt her words were coming deeply from her heart. From that day, we became friends though we didn’t understand each other that much, she used to say that she doesn’t know why she understood me more than anyone else in the city. Honestly, neither do I. I just used to repeat what others said to her.  I wish I could have her details to keep in touch because once we moved I don’t know whether she was still in the UK or went back to her country.

I remembered her and remember how we can understand others with a different tongue on the day of Eid.  I was sitting next to an elderly woman. Probably, she was from Pakistan. She couldn’t sit on the floor, her daughter and granddaughter brought her a chair. So I was sitting on the carpet next to her on a chair. While I was talking with a friend on my other side, she tapped on my shoulder and talked as if she knew me. I understood from her looks and the tune of her voice that she didn’t like how women are chatting and didn’t listen to the Imam’s Eid speech. This was true, I was talking too but this was because the Imam’s voice was too low, probably he didn’t notice that his speaker didn’t work well. I nodded and admitted that she was right and repeated in English what she was saying in her language. She held my hand and smiled at me which I think meant she was happy I understood her though I couldn’t speak her language.

Can this be a universal language?   I think there can be a language that we can feel even though we don’t understand.

Wishing you all the best,

Nahla

 

 

Just writing

And the month has gone!

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Eid is expected to be tomorrow. This means the month of Ramadan is 29 days this year. Yesterday, while we were having Iftar, my son said; ” Ramadan has gone so fast this year.” I thought I was the only one to notice that but we all did. Really the month has gone so fast. I cannot believe that 28 days ago, I wrote about my plan to post every day during this month. I tried but I couldn’t. Anyway,  I’m happy I’ve started writing more posts than before.

I mentioned in one of my posts that I was determined to make no experiments; no new recipes to try. I kept my word. However, there was a tiny problem; I usually forgot if I added salt or not and I cannot taste the food; I’m fasting. If there wasn’t enough salt, we would add some, no problem though the food wouldn’t taste as nice. The major problem happened when I added too much and it did happen, a couple of times. One of them when we have guests but their hands didn’t reach that plate. Thanks God, I prayed and wanted to take it away before they would think about it.

By the way, I didn’t cook the food in this photo. It was on my son’s birthday and we had our iftar out that night. It was Yummy Yummy.

Eid Mubarak,

Wishing you all the best,

Nahla

 

 

 

Just writing

Simplicity

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I found this photo in a post on facebook about happiness and simple life. At the beginning, I didn’t know why I liked the photo more than the post. My eyes kept scrutinising everything; the old pieces of furniture,  the cracks and scratches on the wall and the floor, the little chicks picking the grains, that old broom, the clear sky, the children playing, the infant taking the first step, the mother leaning, the granny kneeling and their faces radiant with joy

Now I know why I liked it more because it reminded me of my grandfather’s house. It was a very big house in the village but it was so old too. All of us, his grandchildren, we were so many, always asked him to renew the place,  just add a modern touch to that old building, we would always suggest. But he would never do; he liked his house the way it was. Honestly, though we would prefer that our grandfather would have a modern house, we really enjoyed every moment of our holiday together there.

I’ve heard that nowadays some people prefer to spend their holidays in simple country houses. This means that simplicity is recommended as a modern recreation option. I’m not sure if my children would agree? My daughter would do, I know, especially if there are those peeping little animals around. The boys definitely, absolutely,  certainly would never; but if Wi-Fi is available, miracles could happen.

Wishing you all the best,

Nahla

 

Just writing

The Pyramids

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Have you ever visited the pyramids?

I have but a long time ago. My boys went there once but I’m sure they would not remember that trip because they were so young but my daughter hasn’t yet.

A long time ago, going to the pyramids was one of the main school trips and of course, it was always during the winter. They are beautiful; three pyramids; stand together not far or so close. The stones used in the building are amazing; they were collected or cut from a quarry, transported in boats sailing over the Nile, pushed over the dampened sand in huge sledges which were dragged by horses, camels and well-fed builders. At last, those stones were hauled through ramps over ramps over ramps until the building was done. How those ramps were exactly constructed is still one of the ancient Egyptian mysteries!

Do you think the Pharaohs had built these Pyramids to be one of the seven world wonders? Or to enter Guinness World records? Definitely NO.

These pyramids were built to be tombs; sacred, powerful and maybe cursed too.  The Pharaohs believed in immortality. Their corpses and food were mummified. Their jewellery, money and other special items were locked in their tombs too. Their Statues were sculpted and placed in magnificent temples. Paintings of their images and life were carved on the walls of tombs and temples. Why did they think of those complicated procedures? They did all that because they believed in life after death.  They believed their souls would come back to their dead bodies and they would rule and live but in a different way; not as a supreme ruler but as a god. This is why the heart was the only organ to be left in the dead body. This is also why they locked all their valuable and precious things in their tombs. It is also said that Pharaohs cast special spells to protect their tombs.

I don’t like to get inside the pyramids; so dark and humid; besides it is not well ventilated especially with so many people.  And the most important thing is not to get the Pharaoh’s curse (joking). This was many years ago; maybe things inside have changed.

Let me know if you have ever been there.

Wishing you all the best,

Nahla

Just writing

Handwriting or typing

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Typing is much easier, especially when writing a long essay, dissertation or an assignment. It is also easier for editing and word counting and so on. When I was an undergraduate student (hmm many years ago), it was possible to make a handwriting submission for essays. Typing was allowed but was not compulsory. At that time, I did not have my own PC, so I used to have them all handwriting. I discovered the difference when I started my postgraduate studies, and I will never think or recommend handwriting for long writing tasks.

But Handwriting is so special. To give a birthday card, a thank you note or even lecture notes to your friend in handwriting is different. It becomes not only about words but also the person who wrote them. I read once that handwriting, even scribbles have a significance. Your handwriting tells more about your personality. It is also known that our handwriting is unique; even twins have different styles of writing.

Today my son asked me to write a note for his PE teacher because his legs are so stiff after his boxing club. These days everything is computerised. I usually send emails, text or call the school; to write a note sounds a bit weird today. I was in a hurry, morning time! when I found the paper, I could not find the pen, and when I found both I forgot why he can not do it but I wrote it anyway. When my son saw the note, he said;

‘Mama, am I unwell?’ he asked and laughed

‘No,’ I replied and remembered the main reason, ‘ but you can explain more to your teacher.’ I laughed too.

Wishing you all the best,

Nahla

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Just writing

Tell us

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One day a young man asked the wise man in his village:

‘Please our wisest, tell us; who can be the dearest, the closest to the heart: your brother or your friend?’

The wise man looked at the questioner and said: ‘My brother,’ and paused, ‘when he becomes my friend,’ he added and left.

I agree.

Wishing you all the best,

Nahla

 

Just writing

Do you worry?

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We all worry, maybe not all but most or some of us, at different levels; something that can be normal, mild or severe.

One of my friends told me once about her mother-in-law. She thinks too much about her health and her worries turned into suspicion. She does not eat at anyone’s house. She doesn’t eat any food. She rarely accepts to eat out. This is strange but who knows something might have happened to her that resulted in her being such a worried person.

Raising up children on your own in a foreign place where it is just you, your spouse and just friends who usually left, went back to their countries, is enough to make you experience worry with all levels. One day, about four years ago, my son texted me; ‘mama the bus didn’t come and I still waiting at the bus stop next to my school.’ That wasn’t something normal because my son’s school was too far from our house; it was in a remote part of the city. And on that day, he could not take the school bus because he had basketball club and finished at 4:30 pm. What made it worse was that he didn’t text when he missed the first one. He kept waiting and texted about 5:30. Why? Because he knew if his mother worries so much, he wouldn’t join the club in the winter.  Honestly, that was my decision but I didn’t tell him at that moment.

I don’t know how many times, I called and texted my husband but apparently they were so many. I still remember how he was breathless; talking while running down the stairs at his work telling me he was on his way.

When I called my son and told him that his father was on his way, he said; ‘the bus has just arrived. Shall I take it?’

‘Of course, jump on.’ I told him and he did. It was a long way from school to our house and I didn’t want him to wait any more at that far place.

‘What about papa?’ My son asked

‘Oops!’

I believe my worries were normal that day. What do you think?

Wishing you all the best,

Nahla

 

 

Just writing

We!

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‘Good morning, mummies,’ A mother texted her friends.

‘Good morning,’ replied one of them.

‘Where are the others?’

‘Always disappear when we decide to plan for a day out.’

‘Perhaps they’re busy?’

‘ No one is busy to check the texts.’

‘Ok, let’s plan something this weeken

‘Other groups are better than this one. The others always have ideas, always ready, always well organised.’

‘ We will work on something suitable for all this time.’

‘We? We won’t, we’ll never do.’

My God, why it’s always you online? The mother whispered to herself.

‘What about this Saturday? A barbecue in the park? It’s sunny for the whole week according to the weather forecast.’

‘My husband’s working this Saturday. I can’t look after my three monkeys.’

‘We’ll do.’

‘I won’t have the car.’

‘We can arrange for this too.’

‘Oh, I forgot my children have a swimming lesson in the afternoon.’

‘At what time?’

‘3 to 4.’

‘We can start at 3 and you join us by 5 when the food is ready.’

‘No, no, my children will be tired.’

Why on earth I keep texting you?

‘What about Sunday?’

‘My children go to their Arabic school. They finish at 5 and go to bed at 6.’

‘6???’

‘Yes.’

‘So you can’t do anything this weekend.’

‘See, we’ll never be able to plan anything? I really think to leave this useless group.’

‘That would be the best plan ever!’

I thought of this story in the morning and wondered how some people always complain though they are the main cause of the problem.

Wishing you all the best,

Nahla

Just writing

My son is 18

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How did hours, days and years go that fast?

It was like yesterday when I held him in my arms, close to my chest and cried.

My baby with his little eyes, his little nose and his little mouth had arrived safely.

His hands were so tiny in my hands. He cried. He yawned. He had a good night’s sleep.

Today, he is 18 and I am so proud of my young man, the eldest.

Now he is taller than me, stronger than me, and smarter than me.

Now he is more like a brother, a caring brother.

But in my heart, he will always be my baby.

May the future of our sons and daughters be bright, purposeful and prosperous.

Wishing you all the best,

Nahla

 

Just writing

Can we try?

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Inviting others for Iftar (breakfast); friends, relatives, or some acquaintances is a popular tradition in the month of Ramadan. Muslims believe that if one shares or offers a meal with/to others, he/she will be heavenly rewarded.  When I started writing this post, I mainly thought of the manners that both visitors and hosts are supposed to have in order to enjoy their time together. I did not think of those sophisticated rules of etiquettes; what to take as a gift, how to sit, how to eat, what to say and so on. These are great rules but I thought of something very general, sometimes that can be very hard to apply. Can we try not to poke our noses into others’ affairs?

One day, a friend visited me after I gave birth to my daughter. It was her first time to visit me and apparently she liked both the place and the house. After giving her warm congratulations; she started a series of investigations all about how many? how much? how far? All those ”hows” made her 30 minutes visit pass like 5 hours. I pretended that I didn’t know most of the answers and changed the subject to her little son. That was why she left early; ‘ You look tired,’ she said and left.

There was a story in Arabic; I have read recently. It teaches one of the visiting manners. The story was about a Muslim scholar whose best student used regularly to invite him at his house. One day, the scholar’s cousin offered to give him a ride to his student’s. Once they had arrived, the host invited that cousin to join them. They talked and ate and then it was time to leave.

On their way back, the cousin poured all his thoughts;

‘ Your student is a real gentleman; kind and generous. His house is so big, clean and tidy. His attire looks expensive and neat. And the food, it was the best I have ever tasted. His people have high skills of cooking. I’m sure he is very wealthy.’

The scholar did not comment. He was riding his cousin’s donkey and listening while watching the sun setting.

‘But they have bad manners; they let women serve food and drinks. Have you seen that woman who was holding the water jug for us to clean our hands after dinner? I don’t like that,’ his cousin added

The scholar looked at his cousin and said; ‘ I have been regularly visiting that student for ten years. I ate their food, I drank their juice and I washed my hands in their house countless times, and yet I don’t know if I was served by men or women.’

His cousin said no more.

The lesson is; they were invited to have a meal, not to interfere in other’s life.

Wishing you all the best,

Nahla