Tag: memories

Just writing

When Silence is Better Than Talking

nhpureandsimple


Have you ever chosen to remain silent instead of speaking?

I do—most of the time.

Should I begin with critical moments or casual ones?
Hmm, I think it would be better to start with the annoying moments then climb step by step toward the pleasant—or perhaps even funny—ones.

It happens when someone asks you for a favour or makes a request, but you have your reasons for not getting involoved. You explain things once, yet they hear nothing but their own voice. Not to mention the blame they put on you, as if you were part of their problem.

Just tell me—what’s the point of arguing with someone who will never be convinced, never change their mind?  By the way this isn’t about stubbornness but egotism—the I’m always right mindset. Isn’t silence better than arguing back in such cases? But, of course, you can enclose some genuine prayers, hoping things will be fine soon.

Are you still climbing the long staircase?

Sure, by now, you must feel heavy and exhaused. I imagine you’ve already climbed most of the steps—apparently we experience lots of these critical situations in our lives— each one adding to a heavy load of annoying momories.

Now it’s time to switch to some pleasant moments. I guess there’re only a few steps before you reach the top step. 

Sometimes, as you’re hurrying down the road, someone looks, smiles, and waves at you with a bundle of flyers and brochures in their hands. They step into your path and ask for a a few spare moments of your time. Silence becomes your escape, and a nod with a smile— along with a quick gesture to your watch—is your way of communicating apologies, if you, like me, are not interested.

And sometimes, as part of socialising, you find youself among people talking about things you’ve never read about or even heard of—like dog food and breeds. Doesn’t it make sense to remain silent? To listen, but not really listen while thinking of cute cats.

And then there’s silence—a warm gesture of respect for elders. How many times did the younger you remain silent while your grandparents or parents talk about things you could neither understand nor follow? But, they always knew you were not listening. And that’s when your sudden, genuine laughter broke the silence.

Last but not least, there’s is silence and shyness— not only do they rhyme but they are also born together. Yet, that’s not as bad as you might think, because it’s neither a birthmark nor a curse. Can we simply call it a special personal trait?

Some talk loudly and nonstop, and some listen, whisper, and weave stories in their minds.

I think by now you’ve arrived safe and sound , and hopefully  happy at the top step.

With hope and peace,

Nahla

memories

Wives, Husbands, And Household Appliances

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One day, while mowing the long grass in my garden, the lawnmower began a weird noise, and then smoke come out of it. I ran to unplug it. Everything was under control with no serious damage caused.

The following day (or week) I seized the opportunity that my husband was working from home and asked him to go with me to buy a new one. Since, the store was not far from home, he agreed.

It was a hot summar day, and my husband, clutching the heavy box, was drenched in sweat.

‘That’s why one shouldn’t work from home,’ my husband grumbled.
‘That’s why one should work from home every now and then,’ I said, stifling a laugh.

We arrived home safe and sound. My husband left the box in the kitchen and ran upstairs.
‘Aren’t you going to help me fix it?’ I called after him.
‘I’ve got a meeting, but give me a shout if you need any.’

I opened the box, took everything out, and gathered all the emply packaging. For a moment, I thought whether to throw away the cardboard, but decided against it. I grabbed the manual which I always found useless. I tried my best to put things together, but that mower, though small, was more complicated to put together. After a dozen attempts, I managed to fix the handle, but there was some wires I had no idea where to place. So, I shouted for help and waited for my husband, who promised to come in as soon as possible. In the meanwhile, I dismantled all the pieces I had put together and made me a nice cup of tea.

‘Oh, you haven’t started anything.’ My husband wondered, and I knew he wished half the job was alreafy done.
‘I did, but things didn’t work. So, it’s your turn to fix it.’
‘At least you could have made me a cup of tea like yours.’
‘I will, but only after you fix it.’I said with a smile.

My husband crouched on the floor, trying to put things together, asking me loads of questions as if I was the one who had invented the machine.

”I’ll try later.’ He gave up.
‘But it won’t get fixed. Something is wrong. Can you just take it back to the store and ask them to assemble it.’

Grumbling and murmuring under his breath, my husband asked about the box and the receipt. I whispered a thankful prayer that I hadn’t torn and bin them.

An hour passed, and my husband neither came home nor called. I finally called him.

‘Why is it taking so long?’
‘They can’t fix it. They called an expert to check it, but he couldn’t either. I got a refund.’ My husband said, sounded both happy and relieved.

‘So, you’re coming home.’
‘No, I’m going to work.’

With hope and peace,

Nahla

P.S. I know the photo is not related to the topic of my post, but l love nature. Isn’t it better than a lawnmower?

holidays

The Easter Holiday

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It started off so well, with warm, sunny days, and beautiful clear nights. We went on a short break to Edinburgh. Everything was filled with exciting holiday vibes. My sons joined us as well, which made things more fun and enjoyable

We all love walking so we set our Google Maps and began exploring the beautiful, old city. It wasn’t our first visit to Edinburgh. Actually we had lived in Scotland for five years and we used to visit Edinburgh during the holidays. My sons couldn’t remember anything about it, and of course, neither could my daughter. They were like exploring the charming city for the very first time.

During the day, we wandered through the old town roads and climbed its unique, staircased alleys. I really liked these alleys for they looked like an old storybook. In the evening, we went out for dinner, but things were not as simple and smooth as they were during the day. Without a booking, you aren’t guaranteed a table. But, we managed to explore and find some family ‐ friendly spots. Then, back to the hotel, we stayed up late together, sharing funny stories and snacking until our eyelids grew heavy with sleep. My sons wished us a good night before heading off to their room.

So far, the holiday had been great.

On the second day, my middle son had a train booked for late afternoon as he couldn’t take extra days off work. We made a plan to be back to the hotel after lunchtime so he could have enough time to be get his train on time. This time, my husband didn’t join us, as some of his friends had learned that he was in Edinburgh and wanted to catch up with him.

Once again, the day had been great – busy and full of fun. It wasn’t until we were halfway back to the hotel that my middle son and I began to argue. What we were talking about was not that serious, but it was my reaction that made things worse.

I didn’t know whether it was the heat getting to me, or too much walking, or just one of the mothers’ flaws. My daughter grew emotional, feeling like she was losing all the fun of the day. My eldest son wanted to step in but I glanced at him to not interfere.

A few minutes away from the hotel, we came across a bench sheltered by a beautiful, flowery tree. Silent, the four of us sat there. ‘I’m still hungry. I’m going to get a sandwich,’ my eldest said before leaving us.

‘Now, what’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with what I was saying?’ My middle son began talking, explaing, and arguing.
Oh, my heart – I could feel how angry and disappointed he was. I listened patiently and waited until he was finished. Then, I explained my point calmly. He looked convinced, though he didn’t admit it. But, at least, in some way, we both understood that we meant well.

Back to the hotel, he grabbed his bag and came to my room. We chatted about other things until it was time to head to the train station. We hugged, and forgot all about it.

The next day, we headed to the train station. There was some delays, and the weather changed, becoming colder and windy. Once we got on the second train, my daughter received a message from her friend that upset her, but my eldest son took care of that issue. Exhaused, I closed my eyes just to relax, didn’t expect I would fell sleep. But, I did though I usually don’t fell asleep on train journeys, and my neck still hurting until today.

As the train was finally approaching our station, we got our bags and moved towards the door. There was a man waiting alongside us, coughing and sneezing, and looked awfully unwell. I couldn’t help but wonder why he didn’t remain in his seat until the train came to a stop.

The following day, I woke up with slight cold symptoms. The day after, it became much worse with fever and a cough. Today it’s feeling okay.

That’s not all about this Easter holiday – perhaps I will share more soon.

With hope and peace,

Nahla


memories

River And Ocean

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I studied about oceans at school, but I hadn’t seen one until I moved to the UK with my husband. My first shock was how grey it looked, but of course it’s just the reflection of the typically English grey sky most of the time.

In Egypt, we have the Mediterranean Sea in the north, and the Red Sea is the east. Both are magnificent, with shades of blue and turquoise, sandy beaches, and bustling, beautiful cities. But nothing is totally perfect, because they’re both far too hot.

One of the best memories in my life was when my father held me in his arms and took me far, deep into the sea. My small arms clung tightly to his neck as the sea waves carried us up and down. I closed my eyes and screamed while he laughed at me. He was a great swimmer, the only person I trusted to take me into the big sea.

The River Nile in Egypt in another story, a long beautiful one. There are Nile cruises, restaurants and cafes that light up the nights, and sleep during the day. Yet, my best memories are not from Cario but from the village where my father family used to live in the Upper Egypt. I can still remember the view of the river from the backdoor of the village mosque. The river looked so serene, so elegant, surrounded by green trees, listening to small birds chirping here and there. My father would hold my tiny hands as we climbed down a few steps to the riverbank. There, he let me watch some fishermen at work, and sometimes he would teach me how to hold a fishing rod. The smell of its water and fish was so special, so fresh.

In England, I’ve been fascinated by the tides. I don’t recall noticing this phenomenon in Egypt, perhaps because back then I was so young, and didn’t know much about tides. But in England, it amazed me to see the ocean so far from the shore. It felt extraordinary to walk a mile or two on bare, wet sand, scattered with seaweed and shells, and then find just a few puddles left behind, as the tide remains out, with no sign to return any soon.

Have you heard the saying: Flow like a river, and live like an ocean?

Isn’t it beautiful to let your life flow with the wisdom of the river and live with the ocean’s tides?

In the end, life is both a unique journey with an unexpected adventure.

With hope and peace,

Nahla

personal thoughts

People Do Tell On Themselves

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Isn’t that one of the life’s greatest ironies?

Sometimes, a person is so careful, so clever, so well prepared – in short, a brilliant actor. And yet, as the old Arabic saying goes: A slip of the tongue can expose lies, hidden intentions, and the true face behind the mask.

Surprisingly, on the other hand, honesty and a keen eye is all you need to observe the irony and smile.

The idea for this blog was inspired by a quote I read on Instagram. It brought back an old memory that made me smile. Before sharing it with you, I’d like to give a brief summary about my acquaintance with social media (feel free to skip this part if you’re in a hurry)

It wasn’t until 2015 or 2016 that I opened a Facebook account, and downloaded other social media apps like WhatsApp. It wasn’t that I hadn’t heard about them, of course I had, but I am a full time mother with prioroties and daily plans. I was happy with using Skype, Yahoo, or Hotmail messengers for social commuications. Back then, things were simpler, and more convenient. But, sometimes, you can’t say “no” to change, especially when your children are getting involved. Since then, I’ve found myself in group chats; one for the mummies, one for close friends, one for other friends who are not close, one for community activities, and so on. Oh, these groups were funny, troublesome, and really a waste of time.

One day, a friend on one of the groups asked me a question about Quran recitation, as I was the only member with a qualified certificate. I answered her question, and she asked another. The questions and answers continued for a while. After many messages back and forth, she said: “Don’t think I’m examining your knowledge.”

“Why would I? You asked and I explained,” I replied. Honestly, that was how I felt, but at that monent, I realised it really was like  she was examining me. If only she had known that, out of respect for the age gap between us, I didn’t want to excuse myself and tend to my other chores.

She disappeared without a reply, no thanks, nothing. In fact, she wasn’t friendly with me, and if it hadn’t been for the group, I believe our paths would have never crossed.

Can you see how people can tell on themselves?

They say professional liars have bad memories. That must be why they end up exposing themselves.

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

Cockroaches And Butterflies

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“If you kill a cockroach, you are a hero; if you kill a butterfly, you are evil. Morals have aesthetic criteria.”

― Friedrich Nietzsche


Sometimes, one can’t comprehend how those classical scholars make things far more complicated.

According to the quote, our moral perception of good and bad is biased because it’s mainly based on how do we feel and perceive things. For example, the act of killing might be seen as heroic, or it might also be barbaric, depending on personal perceptions and favourism.

Don’t you agree that this point of view mainly applies to cases related to connections, power, money, and unfortunately race. But, definitlly, things are not the same with insects.

The moral aesthetic criteria when coming face to face with insects are mainly based on your ability to either flee, let them flee, or sadly end their lives.

Can you consider this blog an analytical study and examine my point of view regarding the issue of moral aesthetic critiria? Please do, because it’s based on a real case study –  my own experience.

Many years ago, when I was newlywed, I was tidying up my cosy, small flat in Cairo after my husband had left to finish some official papers before our travel to the UK. It was one of August’s smouldering days, and in Egypt we used to keep all windows shut in the morning. They used to be wooden windows that allowed good ventilation and worked so well with indoor fans. We could have installed air-conditioning, but since we were planning to travel in a few months, we didn’t want to waste extra money.

Back then, I was one of those people who could get frightened by their own shadow (I am not now). So, when I heard a strange sound and felt suspicious movement around, my heart started pounding hard and fast. As I fearfully gazed around the hall trying to spot the intruder, a cockroach with two big wings flew next to me and hid somewhere.

How I wished I could run to my room, lock the door, and hide there until my husband came back. But, I didn’t because I wouldn’t rest until I got rid of this intruder.

How would the well – known scholar expect me to react in this case? Welcome its company and offer it food and shelter? I can’t believe anyone would. That’s simply because a cockroach is a creepy, harmful insect that can not only bite but also cause diseases that might be poisonous.

So, after chasing each other, jumping from one sofa to another, screaming, and almost fainting, I grabbed one of my slippers and held it tightly with my trembling hand. The moment came when the intruder stood still on the floor. Though it took too long, but it finally came. I ran and slapped it on the head, not once but ten times, and I left my small slippers on its corpse.

The thought of what the moral aesthetic criteria of my deed had never crossed my mind. The only moral aesthetic thing I did was lie down on the sofa and breathe in relief.

With butterflies, the case is different because they are harmless, delicate insects. If you just touch them hard, they would be broken, and fade away. And, unless you have a garden or they get into your house by mistake, they never intrude, never scare, or cause any harm. That’s why I always let them out when I spot any in my house. But would you blame the spider when you find a butterfly caught in its web? I wouldn’t because that wouldn’t ‘t be evil, but a survival criterion.

What do you think?

Do you agree with my analytical study?


With all the best wishes,

Nahla

P.S. It’s still rainy and windy here.

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

Would You Take The Risk?

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If you had a choice to play the big gamble in your life, to stand still before a fully loaded gun save one of its chambers, listen to the click of its trigger, and wait for the bullet that might be fired and hit you dead, or for the one that would never come out. You might end up lying dead on the ground, or you might go home with a million pounds. What would you do?

That was one of the oddest and simplest questions I never expected to be asked during my converstation exam in my final year at university. To be honest, I was pleased to have this one, and I felt so blessed.

Do you want to know why?

Simply because my answer slipped off my tongue without giving it a second thought.Things wouldn’t have been the same if any of my friends’ questions had been mine. It wasn’t because theirs were harder, but because, sometimes, you just can’t talk genuinely about everything.

‘No, I wouldn’t risk my life.’

‘But, it’s a million pounds. There’s a chance you could get it.’

‘Even if they paid me the money in advance to enjoy and spend my life before making the gamble, I wouldn’t take the risk. My life is priceless, and my God didn’t bless me with a divine soul to gamble with it.’

That was my answer, and that year I got the best mark of my converstation exams over the four years of my university studies.

Money will come anyway, whether a little or in abundance, but you live once, and this once can be millions lives, both imaginary and real. Would you risk all that for just a million pound that might worth nothing in the next hour?

With all the best wishes,

Nahla

P.S. I think nowadays the million pounds prize should be, at least, a trillion.

memories

The honest

nhpureandsimple

Honesty is a noble, human trait, and I believe that, along with  kindness, it will never die out. But, honesty is truely unique when it is genuine and touches your heart. I am not referring to the type of honesty that comes with formal interrogation or businesslike settings; I mean honesty that simply slipped off the tongue when you feel you compelled to be honest at that moment, regardless of any costs or requirements.

Last summar, just before moving, my eldest son, my daughter, and I went for a long walk by the seafront. It was a  clear, hot day, with overfed seagulls soaring and screaming all of the sky. They looked as much happy and busy as all the people walking along the parade.

What could be better than having a fish and chips meal on such a summary day? We headed towards a fish and chips takeaway restaurant which was so busy with long queues waiting to either make or collect orders. I always tell my family what I’d like to order and wait outside as far as possible becuase I can’t bear the smell of frying oil, especially on boiling days. However, on that particular day, my son insisted that I go inside with them. Perhaps that was becuase it was so busy outside.

I walked inside with them, and we were waiting for our turn to make the order. As we were talking, I noticed the chef glancing at me once or twice, as if he wanted to say something. When it was our turn, my son gave the order, but then the man looked from my son to me and said: ‘ I just want you to know that we fry pork, sausages, fish and chips, all with the same oil.’

The three of us stood still for a while. It was the first time someone had given us this piece of information without us asking. When we thanked him and declined the order, he said. ‘ I  know you have laws, and I respect that.’

We stepped out hungry, but so happy.

‘Oh, mama, that’s becuase of you,’ my son said.

‘And what have I done?’

‘Your hijab, mama. It’s the first time you came in,’ he laughed. ‘You know how many times we ordered fish and chips from there, and no one told us that before. Such an honest man!’

‘But mama what about the other fish and chips we ate before? My daughter seems more interested in whether we had been making a big mistake.

‘We are allowed to eat fish, so we make an order for fish and chips. God knows that we don’t know it’s been cooked with pork, and in that case we are pardoned. But, from from now on, as we know how things are, we’ll ask every time before having any takeaway.’

I will remember that day forever. This is not only becuase, since then, we know about the frying process, but because of the honest man you come across once in a blue moon.


With all the best wishes,

Nahla