Tag: children

Just writing

Be a Wolf, Not a Donkey

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That’s a father’s advice to his children that I came across as I was scrolling through Instagram.

I paused for a few seconds, staring at the post—perhaps you would do the same. The father says: Better to be a wolf that everyone hates than a donkey that everyone rides.

Honestly I believe this father has his own philosophy, but I couldn’t help but set aside his advice and think about the differences between the two animals. Please don’t think I’m  making any reference to the father for humans are not animals … perhaps … sometimes, metaphorically, some may be, if we live just to eat and drink.

So, wolves and donkeys belong to different categories, right?

Wolves are predators—they definitely eat donkeys. They’re aggressive hunters, social within their packs, and well adapted to their environment. Children hate wolves in fiction, and farmers chase them away to protect their livestock. And, there are some humans who hunt wolves professionally, seeking their soft, thick, and expensive fur.

Do you know that wolves within their own families do not hate each other? Actually, they care for, cooperate, and communicate well among themselves. Wolves rely on their prey. They hunt to survive—which is the ultimate aspiration of any animal life.

Donkeys are herbivorous animals. They’re domisticated farm animals. They’re humble, preseverant, cautious, and well adapted to their environment. In my culture, they are not described so kindly, though. If one is lazy, stubborn, or has an awful singing voice, they might be mocked as a donkey.

Donkeys love company and live in herds, which is why they look lonely and miserable when they haven’t others around. But they can also be aggressive—any prey can be when defending itself. They kick, lunge, and bite. Yet, humans don’t hate them, instead, they use them to their full capacity. And, don’t forget that donkeys too live to eat and survive.

Wolves can never belong to a herd of donkeys, and donkeys can never be part of a wolf pack. They both can live around humans, but humans always manage to have the upper hand with both.

So, wouldn’t it be better to live as a human—not a predator or prey, but as a sensible person with free will?

With hope and peace,

Nahla

memories

Feelings And Eyesight

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Changes in your eyesight do not really imply medical problems. Sometimes, they can be affected by how you feel and think.

A few years ago, my daughter didn’t feel happy in her class because her best friend left the school ‐ just like that, without even a short notice. There were other friends, but she couldn’t feel the same happiness as if  something was missing everyday at school. Then, one day, as we were walking back home after school, she told me she couldn’t see the board well. I let a few days pass while observing her reading and writing at home. All seemed fine. Yet, she insisted that she couldn’t see well at school.

I arranged an appointment at the optician’s, and to my surprise, he prescribed glasses for my daughter. Honestly, I didn’t trust his diagnosis. He seemed miserable himself, and imapteint too. I could feel my daughter’s nervousness during the eye test. But, sometimes, you can’t just disagree with the doctor with a reference based on your intuition.

My daughter chose the frame and colour of her glasses, feeling so excited about her new accessory. The following day, she took them to school, and put them on once or twice. The day after, she left them at home. By the third day she had forgotten all about them.

“I see better without them, Mama,” she said and hid them in her desk drawer. On the following year, at her annual eye test check, the optician was such a cheerful person with a genuine smile. My daughter felt relaxed during the examination, and her eyesight was perfect.

“Have you been wearing your glasses regularly,” the optician asked.
‘No,” my daughter quietly replied, feeling a bit guilty.
“Well, it doesn’t happen often, but you don’t need glasses anymore,” the optician gave the news as if announcing the marvellous success of a hardworking student.

“Really,’ my daughter gasped, her face beamed with a beautiful smile.

I smiled too, wondering whether it’s true that mothers have a sixth sense -that intuition commonly known as gut feelings.

Whether you’re a child or a grown-up, your eyesight can be affected by what’s hidden deep within your heart and mind. Some might lose their eyesight because of grief, yet the same ones might also regain it through the power of joy. There are no hopless cases, but hope for every case. It’s the cause of the problem that might need treatment, more than the problem itself.

Don’t they say that a healthy diet and a walk outdoor in the open, wide beauty of nature can improve eyesight? I couldn’t agree more, becuase they actually can change your mood, brighten your day, and calm your spirit. This is a simple recipe that might help you take off your glasses every now and then.

With hope and peace,

Nahla

personal thoughts

Jumping Mentally And Physically

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I have just finished the book I was reading, and I really enjoyed it. It took me longer to finish this book than it usually takes with others. But, I made up my mind not to write anything – not to post on my blog – until I had finished it. And finally, I did.

Honestly, switching from reading classics to philosophy felt like jumping from one building to another. Both are skyscrapers, but their constructions are totally different. If you’re curious and want to know more about this book, here’s the link.

https://nh825.wordpress.com/2025/03/12/anam-cara/

By the way, have you ever jumped from a building to another nearby?

One day, many many years ago, I was with my cousins at my grandparents house in the countryside. The houses were so close that mainly an alley separating them. My cousins, one after another, jumped from the window to the roof of the other house. I watched their numbers decrease until no one was left but me. One of my cousins was waiting for me – encouraging, extending her hand, and begging me to hurry up as we had to catch up and continue the game with the others. On the other side, I stood, glued to the big window, looking down at the gap between the two houses, and felt it like a deep dark well. My heart stopped beating, almost.

‘You won’t fall down, trust me,’ said my cousin.
‘No’, I said, shaking my head.

She left and ran to catch up with the others. I burst into tears and ran out of the door just like a frightened cat to follow them, but by using the stairs. There, downstairs, I found them all, not waiting for me, but hurrying inside as the mothers were calling us to have the afternoon meal. People say that when you’re hungry and there is food, you think of nothing but eating. That was exactly what happened. We all ate our meal and then hurried outside to play again.

A few years later, after this incident, Cairo was struck by the worst earthquake in its history. I still remember how our ten – floor building was shacking like a rattle in a kid’s hand. My parents had just left to upper Egypt where my grandparents lived after receiving the news about my grandmother’s death. So, it was just my older sister, my brother, and me. I was doing my homework when the walls started shaking suddenly and violently. My heart pounded hard, and my whole body shook like everything around me. I ran to my older siblings, and we all stood in the hallway, looking to one another in panic. We believed the building was collapsing, as it never crossed our minds that it was an earthquake. Then, we heard the neighbours, people on the road, all screaming and wailing, “It’s an earthquake”. As the three of us ran to get out, everything stopped. The following day, or two days later, I went to see my friend, who was also my neighbour, living in the ground floor. Her leg was in a cast.

‘How?’ I asked.
‘I jumped out of the window.’

I burst out laughing. She lived on the ground floor, and all she had to do was open the door and ran out of the building. Instead, she took the shortcut, which wasn’t that dangerous, but it seemed that, instead of jumping, she threw her full body out of the window.

It’s hard to jump, both physically and mentally, into something different, new, or unexpected. But isn’t that also normal? There are people who jump without giving it a second thought, and, there are people who take their time – to jump, to enjoy reading a book, or even to write a new post.

With hope and peace,

Nahla

Just writing

Children’s Parliament

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That was an old children programme on an Arabic channel years ago. I don’t know why it crossed my mind as I was thinking about writing something. I guess that’s, maybe, because these days, some children are not only becoming extremely famous, but also extremely manipulated.

In the old Children’s Parliament programme, children were given the opportunity to discuss topics related to their lives, innocent childhood problems and needs; school issues, health issues, family issues, and hobbies. But, I think those days are gone forever.

Nowadays, it seems that many children have different interests and duties. Thanks to social media and other technologies, and the world’s madness, they not only have their own media accounts and online business straightaway after they entered this world, but they are also granted unreasonable privileges.

Nowadays, you can watch children in midnight festivals and ceremonies. They are accompanied by their powerful, influencial parents to share their special “success” in a completely non -child -friendly environment. They might come on stage, be interviewed, or play at the His Highness’ office. And, their parents smile and laugh to the camera to draw a perfect parental image, and role model to the whole world.

If you have a previous gift, your most valuable in the entire universe, would you expose it to everyone even if you’re surrounded by all possible sorts of protections? Would you make it part of a cheap drama? Would you use it as a blackout, a shield, or a mask to manipulate others, and protect yourself?

And that’s not enough, you hear those once -in -a lifetime parents say; “oh those poor children in that faraway neighbourhood, their parents don’t care about their safety and welfare. Those other children need to be displaced and relocated in a different, robotic environment, to be safe and perfect just like ours.” But, aren’t theirs nothing but victims of this self-centred life?

It’s said that some people, no matter how genius they could be, sometimes God lets stupidity be their sole guide. But, children can be clever enough to survive their parents unwise plans.

I wonder if one day Children will not only have a real Parliament, but will also be allowed to rule the world?

Isn’t everything possible these days? Who knows what the future holds?

Let’s pray things will change to the better!


With all the best wishes,

Nahla

Just writing

I Still Have An Accent

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‘I still have an accent,’ an acquentence said one day, as we were having tea and cake at a café.

I told her that I didn’t notice that at all, as her English was so good, but she didn’t seem convinced. ‘I can’t wait to get rid of it,’ she insisted, making it seem like a big problem. I couldn’t help but wonder why it was a big problem.

Do you think it’s a big problem to have an accent?

Honestly, I don’t mind. Why would you mind if your mother tongue is different from the language you’re using for communication in your new place? In fact,  I find it interesting, different, and even special. Isn’t it the same when a native English, or French, or any other speaker speaks Arabic with an accent of their own tongue?

Over the years I have found that it’s hard for English native speakers to pronounce the ‘H’ in my name because it’s followed by ‘L’. Therefore, they drop the H, and instead of Nahla, they pronounce it Nala. I understand the difficulty, and don’t mind. We are created with different tongues, aren’t we? Isn’t that encouraging to learn and understand others?

In another context, a few years ago, while we were on holiday in Tunisia, I found it so interesting how their Arabic has a French accent. I really liked how different and unique it sounded. This is the same reaction I have when I meet Arabic speaking people from the Gulf region. Sometimes, it takes me a moment or so to understand, but I like how it sounds. I wonder how common it is to find people speaking the same language with different accents. Isn’t that what they call the tapestry of linguistic diversity?

The only exemption from this phenomenon is children. They are so quick, so ready to become bilingual with a fluent accent. I’ve noticed that in my own children, as well as other bilingual children. Perhaps, that’s because children don’t force it or overthink it. It just slips off their tongues so naturally and easily.

I still have an accent, and I like it.

With all the best wishes,

Nahla

daily prompt

A Craving Hobby!

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Are there any activities or hobbies you’ve outgrown or lost interest in over time?


Some hobbies can depend on mood, taste, company – and, more importantly, the moment. Have you ever noticed that? I have.

I love colouring with pens and pencils, but I’ve rarely tried using brushes. I believe all children enjoy colouring at different levels; it somehow captures their attention and relax their mood. Colouring is the hobby I crave, like special things at special moments, shared with very special people.

So, in my childhood, I loved and enjoyed colouring. But as we grow, some old hobbies are pushed aside and eventually  become abandoned. But, they don’t completely vanish.

During my pregnancy, I craved colouring. A month after my husband and moved to the UK for his postgraduate studies, I bought children’s colouring books and pens.  I coloured them all in no time, selected my favourites, cut them out, and decorated our walls with them. They added life, beauty, and much fun to our small flat. However, I didn’t crave it in my second pregnancy, and it was pushed aside by the demands of life.

My faded hobby revived and was full of fun when God blessed me with a daughter after my two boys. We used to colour together and challenge each other to see who could make the best colouring. However, as we discovered other favourite hobbies, colouring was once again pushed aside.


They say colouring is an effective alternative to meditation, and it truely is. It extends time and makes every moment more enjoyable, putting all your worries and fears at the back of your mind. Perhaps that’s why you might crave it at special moments with special people.



With all the best wishes,

Nahla

Just writing

Endearment

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Is there anyone who wouldn’t like to hear or receive some endearment? Genuine ones. Pure, simple ones. Endearments that are not related to flattery or hidden self-interest.

Although people are different,  I believe the possibility that one’s heart will not soften at receiving an endearing word or gesture is small. Even those with rock – solid hearts, or worse, dead hearts, should have a spot of tenderness hidden deep whithin them that would respond to a genuine endearment. Why, even animals and plants can be affected by endearing behaviour.

Now, can you think of the opposite? Instead of being the receiver, being the transmitter. In other words, can everyone instead of receiving endearment, be able to give any? I don’t think this is common because not everyone has this talent.

Imagine two people watching a singing robin at their windowstill.
‘Hello there, sweet, cute, little friend,” one says feeling so happy at the sight of the bird.
‘He’s just a bird,’ the second says, not in bad way, but he simply can’t add any more, believing that a robin is one of so many birds.

Can there be special, irreplaceable endearments? Of course there can, though nowadays, I doubt if people really care about that. A year or two ago, I noticed what I believe is an odd phenomenon. Either on social media or at social gatherings, I heard children calling their parents by their given names. In the beginning, I thought they were just joking or it was a game. Mine make the same joke at home, somtimes. But what I saw, was not for joking, playing, or disrespect. It was like a new fashion taught by parents, like a new, modern parenting style. Honestly, I find it odd, and disliked it. What could be a more special endearment than hearing “mama” and “papa”, “mum” and “dad” from your children? Who else would call you “mum” and “dad” from their own hearts?

Endearment isn’t only about sweet words.Nicknames and your own name can be just as endearing when uttered by a special person, or even given genuinely by a stranger. It is something that can warm the heart and fill it with happiness.

With all the best wishes,

Nahla

daily prompt

Fun time

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Do you play in your daily life? What says “playtime” to you?

Children are, or used to be, always the best at having and enjoying their playtime. But this doesn’t mean that grown-ups can’t have any.

But things change as we grow older. As a child we usualy play to have fun, to enjoy the company of our friends whether in the neighbourhood or at school, and time would stretch before us as if it would never end.

But then, we grow up, and time becomes more precious as it slips from our hands faster and faster. Still, we can grab some fun time, steal some special moments of playtime.

Years ago, we were living in Scotland, and I really loved it there so much. My boys were around ten years old. We were living in a two- bedroom flat with an open kitchen-lounge. Sometimes, no honestly most of the time, just before dinner as we waited for my husband to come home from work, my boys and I would start a funny game. You might wonder why and how I could join them?

My boys at that age were too distant from one another. They would rarely talk or play together unless other friends were around. But since friends aren’t always available, my husband and I became the magnet that would pull them both to each other. That’s the main reason I joined most of their playtime games. The second reason is that I really enjoyed it, the child inside me wanted to play as well. It didn’t  matter to me that I was a full – time postgraduate student with loads of studying to do. I also wanted to have fun and make my boys happy.

One of our best and funniest games was racing around the small wall that separated the dinning area and the kitchen. Sometimes the race would cover the whole flat. The three of us were so light and little that we didn’t consider being any annoyance to others, especially we rarely saw any neighbours in the two – floor building we lived in. But, actually, there was one or two.

When my husband came home, and as we were setting the dinner table, the doorbell rang. My husband opened it, and there was our elderly neighbour. All I could hear from his brief talk with his thick scottish accent, at the door was; ‘It seems like it was raining cats and dogs.”
“What have you been doing?” My husband asked after finishing with the man
The boys told him about the game.
“Where was your mother?”
“Joining us, baba.”

We sorted things out with our neighbour. The following day the boys and I picked a nice card. They explained that they were sorry and promised to be more careful and considerate while playing indoors. Since our neighbour had two, big jumpy dogs, we delivered the card through his door mailbox. It didn’t take long until he paid us a neighbourly visit and brought my boys a nice lego game.

Playtime is when you let the child inside you play, laugh, and enjoy the moment.

With all the best wishes,

Nahla

Just writing

Don’t let them age

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I remember my grandparents from my mother’s side as I hadn’t seen my father’s since they all died early before he married my mother.

Anyway, my grandparents were barely in their late sixties or early seventies when they died. As a child, I used to believe they were so ancient, so weird. Their house was so big and so old. Not becuase they didn’t have enough money –  they did, but because they didn’t like change. They liked their old furniture, the old walls, the old staircase, and even their old clothes.

From my mother’s tales, especially about her father, I believed he was a monster and a tyrant. By the way, he wasn’t religious, but I am not going to detail more because we shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, should we? However, he was, actually, so kind with me. Perhaps, because I used to avoid him all the time, or because I was the quietest of his grandchildren tribe. But, he really was kind, and when he laughed or smiled, I didn’t see him that old at all.

Some people say that the real youth is the youth of the heart and the soul. If you read Mr. MacBride’s story, you will know how important it is to not let either your heart or your soul age.

Have you read The Five Wishes Of Mr MacBride. It’s a wonderful book. Have a look at my review!

https://nh825.wordpress.com/2024/12/17/the-five-wishes-of-mr-murray-mcbride/


With all the best wishes,

Nahla

Just writing

Not soft-drinks

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Years ago, I started taking my daughter to a tennis club. Of course, there would be a fun day for parents and children during the Christmas holiday. So far, so normal.

One year, at this sepical occasion, as I was sitting with my daughter, waiting for my husband to join us, a couple joined my daughter and me at the table. After “would you mind” and brief greetings, my daughter and I turned to watch others playing on the courts. So far, so normal.

It wasn’t until I heard the pop of some cans when I turned to the couple at the same table. I didn’t look at them; I mainly focused my gaze on the drinks which, of course, weren’t  soft drinks. Why? How? I wondered, feeling so angry. But that wasn’t becuase I, as a Muslim, felt I was the odd one out. No. That was becuase it was mainly a children event. Is this how people raise their children? How can you encouge a child to play sports and be healthy while you drink in front of them? I was deep in thought and didn’t realise I was gazing at the drinks on the table for more than enough. It wasn’t until my daughter grabbed my hand that I blinked and turned to her. ‘Let’s go and play,’ I told her and went to one of courts.

When my husband joined us, we went back to the table, but the drinks were gone. I felt a flutter of happiness, and turned to my daughter with a broad smile, but my daughter looked startled, glancing at the couples joining our table. I turned to see what was wrong. There, the woman was glaring at me as if I had slapped her. Honestly, I wondered if there was something wrong with her, a mental health issue. I gave her a brief smile, but she kept the same angry face. My husband asked me what was wrong. I shook my head and told him I had not the foggiest idea. But then, I remembered that I saw one of the coaches by our table when we were playing which means he was the one taking their drinks away, not me, but perhaps becuase of me?

After that event, my daughter continued attending her sessions, but we decided there would be no need to participate in any of their holiday events.

With all the best wishes,

Nahla