شو بدك تاكلي؟
eggplant a la parmisan بدي أشوف ازا عندهم
شو هاي بالزبط؟
انو باتنجان مع بندورة و شوية جبنة بارميزان من فوق
مش هاي نفسها المسقعة؟
أيوااااا .. بس مع جبنة
...
الله يرحمك يا سيدي ... راحت عليك مسقعة البارميزان
Monday, July 13, 2009
Sunday, July 12, 2009
ignorance is a bliss
A friend of mine once told me that the worst thing is being ignorant of what’s happening in the world, it was after I told him that I didn’t hear about the Tsunami until a week later.
I’ve stopped following the news a long, long time ago. The last thing I followed during early university days was the war on Iraq. I remember the day after the troops took over Baghdad. I was in Amman at the time, I did the usual, leave the dorms at 7.15 am, walk to university for my 8 am lecture, saw the usual familiar and unfamiliar faces, but something was different. Everyone had the same look of shock and sorrow on their faces, and I can almost swear I didn’t hear the usual noises I always heard on the streets; everything was silent.
I stopped following up on the war on Iraq that day. To me it was the end, or was it the beginning of the end? It didn’t really matter anymore; the worst has happened. They just lost the war.
But then Abu Ghareeb came up and I found out I was wrong. We all know that torture was a part of war, but that was way, way beyond torture. I chose to turn my face away at any sort of news. Arabs are being killed, humiliated and violated, but aren’t they everyday? Is it really something new?
Then I was blessed (or cursed, still can’t decide) with working in the Oilfield industry. We’re talking about having work up to your ears and sometimes going to remote places with no connection whatsoever to the outer world except to your manager and client. Somehow or another, it was sort of like a bliss.
Then there was Gaza, which I was aware of within an hour of the first brutal attack, not because I cared about what was happening outside my own bubble, but because I was home after quitting my job. Everyone was glued to Aljazeera to see when it’s ending that day, but it didn’t and that day stretched out to days and days, waiting for it to stop, watching number of casualties go up from one digit, to two, to three … to four. Have we really stopped being people with lives, dreams and basic rights and just turned to numbers?
The war on Gaza was over, or so it was said. Although I know very well that the crimes against Palestinians didn’t really stop there, the sufferings did not end there, the injustice never stopped and it probably never will. But I was sick of feeling angry and ashamed of being an Arab, and I chose to look in a different way now. Donations and sympathy only made me more ashamed because they were all I could do while people are being murdered on TV in what seemed like a long endless movie, except there were no stunts. I didn’t want to see another kid who lost his childhood along with body parts, I didn’t want to see broken men and I didn’t want to see crying women. At least not anymore.
I have not seen Aljazeera channel since, let alone watched TV in the first place. I got a job and went back to my old life, doing my duties and worrying over my problems which seemed enough to handle.
What made me write this was reading this morning -for the first time- about Marwa Al Sharbini; an Egyption Muslim Woman who worked in Germany, three or four months pregnant , who was stabbed 18 times to death, and who’s husband was shot -by security guards- while trying to save her for being “mistaken” as the attacker. And here’s the part elli besem el badan: it was all in court, infront of a judge and people, including their 3 years old son.
This is beyond my comprehension.
18 stabs is not something you can do in split seconds, and being someone who’ve never been in a court room but seen it in movies, aren’t security guards always available in court? Assume they weren’t, what are the odds of you mistaking a man saving his wife with a maniac with a knife?
She was in court after suing him for calling her a terrorist, among other names, and humiliating her in public.
It took 18 stabs for security to react and shoot the wrong man.
18 stabs to end her humiliation.
What would it take to end ours?
This was 6 days ago. Did it take proper media attention or was it just me looking the other way again? How come I heard of Egypt and their football victories and loses from other people and never heard about this? How come I read about Michael Jackson’s death at 4 am in the morning through MSN and facebook updates, but took me 6 days to read about this?
Maybe it was just me.
But what can I do apart from being ashamed and angry again? I can go back to my social comma until something else comes up and I hear of by mistake. Until there’s another creative way of violating Arabs, I can try to swallow that huge lump in my throat right now, try to carry on with my work, try to go back to sleep, I know I’ll forget about it in a day or two. We’re all getting pretty good at that.
Ma 7ada y2olli el denye lessa bkheir. I’ve lost faith in humanity and ignorance is truly a bliss.
I’ve stopped following the news a long, long time ago. The last thing I followed during early university days was the war on Iraq. I remember the day after the troops took over Baghdad. I was in Amman at the time, I did the usual, leave the dorms at 7.15 am, walk to university for my 8 am lecture, saw the usual familiar and unfamiliar faces, but something was different. Everyone had the same look of shock and sorrow on their faces, and I can almost swear I didn’t hear the usual noises I always heard on the streets; everything was silent.
I stopped following up on the war on Iraq that day. To me it was the end, or was it the beginning of the end? It didn’t really matter anymore; the worst has happened. They just lost the war.
But then Abu Ghareeb came up and I found out I was wrong. We all know that torture was a part of war, but that was way, way beyond torture. I chose to turn my face away at any sort of news. Arabs are being killed, humiliated and violated, but aren’t they everyday? Is it really something new?
Then I was blessed (or cursed, still can’t decide) with working in the Oilfield industry. We’re talking about having work up to your ears and sometimes going to remote places with no connection whatsoever to the outer world except to your manager and client. Somehow or another, it was sort of like a bliss.
Then there was Gaza, which I was aware of within an hour of the first brutal attack, not because I cared about what was happening outside my own bubble, but because I was home after quitting my job. Everyone was glued to Aljazeera to see when it’s ending that day, but it didn’t and that day stretched out to days and days, waiting for it to stop, watching number of casualties go up from one digit, to two, to three … to four. Have we really stopped being people with lives, dreams and basic rights and just turned to numbers?
The war on Gaza was over, or so it was said. Although I know very well that the crimes against Palestinians didn’t really stop there, the sufferings did not end there, the injustice never stopped and it probably never will. But I was sick of feeling angry and ashamed of being an Arab, and I chose to look in a different way now. Donations and sympathy only made me more ashamed because they were all I could do while people are being murdered on TV in what seemed like a long endless movie, except there were no stunts. I didn’t want to see another kid who lost his childhood along with body parts, I didn’t want to see broken men and I didn’t want to see crying women. At least not anymore.
I have not seen Aljazeera channel since, let alone watched TV in the first place. I got a job and went back to my old life, doing my duties and worrying over my problems which seemed enough to handle.
What made me write this was reading this morning -for the first time- about Marwa Al Sharbini; an Egyption Muslim Woman who worked in Germany, three or four months pregnant , who was stabbed 18 times to death, and who’s husband was shot -by security guards- while trying to save her for being “mistaken” as the attacker. And here’s the part elli besem el badan: it was all in court, infront of a judge and people, including their 3 years old son.
This is beyond my comprehension.
18 stabs is not something you can do in split seconds, and being someone who’ve never been in a court room but seen it in movies, aren’t security guards always available in court? Assume they weren’t, what are the odds of you mistaking a man saving his wife with a maniac with a knife?
She was in court after suing him for calling her a terrorist, among other names, and humiliating her in public.
It took 18 stabs for security to react and shoot the wrong man.
18 stabs to end her humiliation.
What would it take to end ours?
This was 6 days ago. Did it take proper media attention or was it just me looking the other way again? How come I heard of Egypt and their football victories and loses from other people and never heard about this? How come I read about Michael Jackson’s death at 4 am in the morning through MSN and facebook updates, but took me 6 days to read about this?
Maybe it was just me.
But what can I do apart from being ashamed and angry again? I can go back to my social comma until something else comes up and I hear of by mistake. Until there’s another creative way of violating Arabs, I can try to swallow that huge lump in my throat right now, try to carry on with my work, try to go back to sleep, I know I’ll forget about it in a day or two. We’re all getting pretty good at that.
Ma 7ada y2olli el denye lessa bkheir. I’ve lost faith in humanity and ignorance is truly a bliss.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
a typical week day
I wake up an hour before my alarm rings, I struggle to go back to sleep and succeed five minutes before the alarm starts ringing.
I snooze the alarm 3 or 4 times before dragging myself out of bed, thinking whether it would be wise to skip work today and go back to sleep.
I get ready and wait for my pick up which is with 2 ladies from work. I plug in my mp3 player and sink in the back seat and off we start our one hour journey to the office. Although I’ve been going through the same road for what feels like eternity, I still can’t tell what junction are we supposed to take or which directions from roundabouts. Frankly as long as I’m with someone who knows the way I couldn’t bother any less about my retarded navigation skills, however it always comes back and slaps me in the face when I have to take a taxi to work.
I spend that hour in the car shuffling through songs on my ipod, rarely listening to a complete one, looking through the window at cars with 2+ passengers; there’s always someone with their head hanging backwards and sleeping. It always makes me wonder, if other people can sleep in moving vehicles then why on earth can’t I?!!
I reach the office and the first thing I do after dumping my laptop and things on my desk is heading to the kitchen for coffee, otherwise I won’t guarantee my mind functioning at all – not that it’s functioning all the time anyways.
There are two cabinets for mugs in the kitchen, and no matter which cabinet I open first, my mug is always in the other cabinet. ALWAYS.
I go back to my cubicle, my manager who’s sitting in the cubicle adjacent to my back asks how am I this morning. I always answer with “fine”, wondering whether “similar to what you’re wearing in your feet” would make any sense to a non Arab like him.
I do different tasks (if any, that is), some of them are weird enough to make my day. Take today for example, I was filling out a visa application form to a certain country and one of the questions I had to answer was (and I quote) “Have you ever been a prostitute or procurer for prostitutes?” I actually looked up the word Prostitute in a dictionary to check if it had any other meaning that I wasn’t aware of. Another question I got was “Do you seek to engage in any terrorist attacks?”, I did suggest to my manager that I’d answer that with a “Yes” and see what happens but he refused. My manager is no fun.
Time goes by incredibly slowly until it’s time to take my one hour journey back home. And history repeats itself as I plug in my ipod and shuffle through songs and watch cars only with drivers looking miserable this time.
I come back to an empty apartment which can be one of the best, sometimes worst, things in the world. I either cook, tidy up, go out or just laze down on the sofa, although nowadays I’m cutting back on the cooking and tidying and leaving it for weekends – I know my younger brother would scream “Liar” if he read this.
I always feel rather drowsy when I reach home and I try to tame myself from not jumping into bed so that I wouldn’t screw up my sleeping hours which are already screwed. So I force myself to stay awake until 9.30 – 10.00 pm or so, and that ladies and gentlemen, is the exact time when for some reason I suddenly have urges to play on my piano. I don’t know whether to call it for seeing, premonition or simply random prediction, but that’s exactly why my brother (whom I live with) insisted that I buy a digital piano and not an acoustic one; so that I’d play while using headphones when I have late at night musical moods and everyone would be happy.
There are of course exceptional nights when I get too bored and log into Blogger, post a random useless post like this one and waste five minutes of your life. It’s been a while since I did.
I’m soo looking forward to going through this routine all over again next week.
Not.
I snooze the alarm 3 or 4 times before dragging myself out of bed, thinking whether it would be wise to skip work today and go back to sleep.
I get ready and wait for my pick up which is with 2 ladies from work. I plug in my mp3 player and sink in the back seat and off we start our one hour journey to the office. Although I’ve been going through the same road for what feels like eternity, I still can’t tell what junction are we supposed to take or which directions from roundabouts. Frankly as long as I’m with someone who knows the way I couldn’t bother any less about my retarded navigation skills, however it always comes back and slaps me in the face when I have to take a taxi to work.
I spend that hour in the car shuffling through songs on my ipod, rarely listening to a complete one, looking through the window at cars with 2+ passengers; there’s always someone with their head hanging backwards and sleeping. It always makes me wonder, if other people can sleep in moving vehicles then why on earth can’t I?!!
I reach the office and the first thing I do after dumping my laptop and things on my desk is heading to the kitchen for coffee, otherwise I won’t guarantee my mind functioning at all – not that it’s functioning all the time anyways.
There are two cabinets for mugs in the kitchen, and no matter which cabinet I open first, my mug is always in the other cabinet. ALWAYS.
I go back to my cubicle, my manager who’s sitting in the cubicle adjacent to my back asks how am I this morning. I always answer with “fine”, wondering whether “similar to what you’re wearing in your feet” would make any sense to a non Arab like him.
I do different tasks (if any, that is), some of them are weird enough to make my day. Take today for example, I was filling out a visa application form to a certain country and one of the questions I had to answer was (and I quote) “Have you ever been a prostitute or procurer for prostitutes?” I actually looked up the word Prostitute in a dictionary to check if it had any other meaning that I wasn’t aware of. Another question I got was “Do you seek to engage in any terrorist attacks?”, I did suggest to my manager that I’d answer that with a “Yes” and see what happens but he refused. My manager is no fun.
Time goes by incredibly slowly until it’s time to take my one hour journey back home. And history repeats itself as I plug in my ipod and shuffle through songs and watch cars only with drivers looking miserable this time.
I come back to an empty apartment which can be one of the best, sometimes worst, things in the world. I either cook, tidy up, go out or just laze down on the sofa, although nowadays I’m cutting back on the cooking and tidying and leaving it for weekends – I know my younger brother would scream “Liar” if he read this.
I always feel rather drowsy when I reach home and I try to tame myself from not jumping into bed so that I wouldn’t screw up my sleeping hours which are already screwed. So I force myself to stay awake until 9.30 – 10.00 pm or so, and that ladies and gentlemen, is the exact time when for some reason I suddenly have urges to play on my piano. I don’t know whether to call it for seeing, premonition or simply random prediction, but that’s exactly why my brother (whom I live with) insisted that I buy a digital piano and not an acoustic one; so that I’d play while using headphones when I have late at night musical moods and everyone would be happy.
There are of course exceptional nights when I get too bored and log into Blogger, post a random useless post like this one and waste five minutes of your life. It’s been a while since I did.
I’m soo looking forward to going through this routine all over again next week.
Not.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
in amman
I've been back in Dubai for a week now and I still can't get myself to work bi nefs. Two weeks were just not enough.
This was taken during one of my long walks with one of my very good friend; Kat.
I told Kat I've never really seen Abdoun's bridge so we walked under it only to find a dead end. We had to go down a hill to cross a poorly lighted street to the other side and then go up another hill to reach the pavement. Why is not fully paved? I have no clue really. I almost fell a zillion times that night !
Now this was taken on the other side.
At Tche Tche with sadeeqati al sadooqa Naryat.
Yaaaaabaaayyyyyyeeeeh sho jay 3a bali their nutella ice cream.
This was taken during one of my long walks with one of my very good friend; Kat.
I told Kat I've never really seen Abdoun's bridge so we walked under it only to find a dead end. We had to go down a hill to cross a poorly lighted street to the other side and then go up another hill to reach the pavement. Why is not fully paved? I have no clue really. I almost fell a zillion times that night !
Now this was taken on the other side.
At Tche Tche with sadeeqati al sadooqa Naryat.
Yaaaaabaaayyyyyyeeeeh sho jay 3a bali their nutella ice cream.
At an indian restaurant in Abdoun called Hindi. Lovely indian and chinese cuisine but lousy sushi.
I should go work on some stuff my manager asked for. Should.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
dubai chimp finally finds love after 20 years alone
You know life's unfair when a chimp's love life is better than yours.
Lucky bastard !
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