scrambled…and a little fried

Greeting Internet.

wow, so it looks like i’ll be posting every few weeks to months. things have been so hectic. so, so hectic. but i really want to start writing again…inshaAllah atleast once a week.

i just have a load to get off my chest and a series of random updates to document. you know, it’s funny that i even have this blog of mine. i want and need it for expressive and documention purposes, yet chose -chhhoooossee- to disclose personal (as personal as i’ll a web of strangers in on) information in such a public arena. the other day i was thinking about how much i miss having my journals and, even more so, the TIME to write my emotions and thoughts and life out. now i feel like its a stumbling collection of memories im trying to hold on to. maybe im too lazy or just running out of room to remember the things going on, but i  have to because in many ways this blog is therapeutic for me and knowing very few to none read it, i don’t feel too threatened about it’s lack of real privacy.

anyhow. biggest and most important new fact is that i am now a parent, a mother to a beautiful and amazing and absouletly perfect alhamdulilah mashalAllah Allahu Akbar little boy. ah, my son. my little wonderful deliciously chunky boy. momma loves you more than she will ever -ever-ever be able to express in words. you own my heart forever. my labor and birthing experience went absolutely NOTHING like i planned or hoped for, BUT but but, amira…in the end all you can ask for is a healthy and happy baby. which i got. and am very thankful for. so alhamduliah. i will shut up and not go into the very long and emotional spew about my surprise c-section that i was seriously depressed about and could. not. get. over. i learned that its a real issue to have the feelings i had and im coping with them. honestly the more i talk about it, the more it bandaids my wound, but im simply not in the mood for it right now. maybe it’ll be a whole other post.

hubmister and i are adjusting to parenthood and its pretty sweet right now. i mean, really its the same routine over and over again. its when hes walking, talking, and thinking for himself that worries me. besides, right now i can just kiss him and hold him and just plain love my sugarsweethoneylovebug endlessly. before i know it he’ll be a screaming toddler and sooner or later too old and too cool for mommy’s kisses.

now….

i guess the real reason im up at 2:31am, aside from the three straight cups of tea i had, is because of what’s bothering me. it’s been picking at my brain and haunting me from every unstudied page from that stupid Kaplan book. so here’s a real confession…

Lately I have been totally overwhelemed and completely unsure of what the heck to do with my life. Anyone who knows me assumes, which is the key word, ASSUMES I will be going into medicine, but I seriously have to be honest with myself. I feel like I HAVE to go to medical school and accomplish all of these things that my family expects me to because of their dreams and sacrifices. I already talked a little about this in a previous post, but now that it’s so close in my future, holyshmoly, it’s giving me hives and nasty infections (okay im kidding about that, but i really want to vomit though). I hate this burden. And to make matters even uglier, I don’t have a plan B. Not even a plan A 1/2.

I really REALLY hate this burden. And it’s making me hate myself and everything I did wrong to get to this point. I have neither the confidense nor the certainty that it’s for me, but then again, I don’t know of anything else that I want to do. I wish I could tell you the twitches I get when people ask me about how my application is going or when I’m going to take the MCAT.

What I hate more than anything else is comparisons. Comparisons between me and my peers. One thing about me that has always been constant is that my closest and most relatable friends have always been years and years older than myself. The only thing I usually have in common with young women my age is just that, my age. Sure there’s also that annoying fact that we’re essentially each others competition(to get into med school or whatever program or scholarship etc.) as well. And I really hate excuses so I don’t try to make any myself, but I need to be realistic and remember that comparing myself to my peers is like comparing apples and oranges. We’re both fruit but different fruits.

What kills me is the expectation on myself ffrroommmmmm myself, and others to an extent, to be where they are competively atleast. If that makes sense. Reality is that my peers aren’t married with a baby and trying to get things done at the same pace. I’m not saying that my marriage and son are holding me back, but what I am saying is that our set of resonibilities are totally different. They don’t have a husband and a baby to tend to/take on plus school. For the most part they usually invest all of their time and enegy into school. I don’t regret one thing about my desicion to get married and definitely to have my son, but most of the time I feel like a failure and inadequate for not being up to pace with my peers. One prime example is this year. This forsaken stressful year when we’re supposed to be appyling to medical school and taking our MCATS. And you know what? I’m.Not.Ready. I don’t feel like I’ll have enough time to study, take the test, have my recommendation letters, and blah blah balh all in time for May (plus keep up with my classes). MAY…THREE MONTHS AWAY. Most of the pressure is on my MCAT, infact ALL of the pressure is on that test. I can’t afford to have to retake it.

So what if I have to apply a year later or take an extra semester? Ah, I know why. Because folks will blame my son. Dare I not apply and get into a medical school or consider a different career, the whispers will be because amira had a baby before she finished her undergrad and it basically ruined her dreams(so faaaar from true)….or something. I’ll be the prime example for parents to not let their daughters get marriend before a bachelors degree…or PhD. Whenever a young not yet college grad brings up marriage with her parents, they’ll just hold up a picture of me to strike terror into her heart. Huuuh,I feel this overlieing dark cloud to prove that getting married so young and having a baby is not such a bad thing. That is wasn’t a mistake because I’ve never felt that it ever was. And that it’s possible, like so many women do -single handedly even, to still finish your education and have your family at the same time. But I need to prove it with my own example. I just might need an extra year.

Now all of this could totally be my own insecurities and paranoid imagination, but you know what? I doubt it’s far from true considering all of the warnings to not give up on medical school because I have a baby. Well newsflash folks, I was alwyas shaky about medical school anyways.

It’s so easy to say “Ah screw it! SCREW IT ALLLLLLLLL” and let things be, but I can’t. And I understand that.

I just wish I could have some peace about it.

 

My Insides

So it’s been a while since I’ve made a real post about what’s going in my world, but as I stated earlier, it is finals season after all. But I can’t focus right now so I though I’d stop by here…my internet abode where I can be a total dufas and not really care…kind of.

AlhamdulilahI just finished a conversation with a really good friend of mine who got married and is now expecting a bundle of joy. I love her oodles to bits and I’m sincerely, genuinely, whole heartedly, truly, truly, truly, happy for her and that she has everything she’s always wanted.

I love her.

When I talk to friends of mine who I see evolve and form this new and exciting life I admit I tend to compare what’s going on in my own life and from experience I can tell you that it’s a debilitating habit to develop -comparing yourself, your life, your things, your world -anything. Not to mention it’s an easy gateway for shaytaan to settle in and cause a plethora of other troubles. Although I’m so happy for my dear sister I found myself examining what’s going with me and I had the nerve to be angry and a little depressed. I snapped out of it quickly because subhanAllah I have so much that I need to be grateful for and things that I don’t even realize are major blessings in my life that I was really being just plain stupid for being upset with the set of cards life dealt me.

But I’ve always had this problem of comparing myself to others and in my mind I was never the better of the two, which spiraled me into a deep state of anxiety and horrible self esteem when I was in high school and still tries to wrap me up in it’s unpleasant cycle of self hate and unworthiness today. Although I’m older and alhamdulilah finally out of those agonizing teen-aged years, I can feel the familiar negative mentality creeping in every now and then. But it was and still is never obvious to anyone, even my closest of closest friends. In high school I confined in my high school councilor who I will always be grateful for getting me through my internal demons and in the end helped me realize that I was capable of anything if I believed in myself for a change.

On the outside I have a certain nothing-can-get-in-my-way-of-anything attitude whereas internally I constantly fight myself to believe it. It’s just a really weird plague that overcame me during high school. Maybe it was the overly competitive atmosphere or the lack of family support. I know it was a deadly tonic of a lot of things that were going on during that time from feeling like I was not smart enough to compete with the brainiacs of my class to my family’s own civil wars- yeah I meant that in plural.

And I realize that there are people who are suffering and dealing with far far far worse than anything that I’ve faced in my lifetime. Yes, I realize and remind myself that I’m not one of my many brothers and sisters dying everyday in Palestine or that I haven’t lost all of my family to the terrorist/genocidal Janjaweed group and continuously gang raped like practically all of my precious sisters in Darfur. I know. And I pray to Allah everyday that they received His mercy and reward for all of their misery here in this life.

Considering all realms of reality I am one lucky duck, but I still have my own reality and in that realm, I have my own demons. So alhdamulilah I’m grateful that my troubles are like the majority of people’s -not fatal. It’s my struggle with myself.

Alhamdulilah I’m an analytical person. At least I can step back from a situation to examine what’s really at stake and I don’t lie to myself about what’s at the heart of an issue so I can come to a real honest to God solution. I don’t sugar coat my feelings when it comes to my life because Allah knows I can’t live a lie or keep quiet if something is bothering me. I know it’s not a good thing, but I really do wear my heart on my sleeve; all it takes is to have a  good look at my eyes and you can tell something is wrong. It’ll come out one way or another. And I’m thankful for that.

I’m reminded of something one of my all time favorite sheiks said once. During one of his classes, he stated that jihad of the nafs is a life long struggle. That you can not win within one, two, or even a million lifetimes. It’s forever. When he said that so many things suddenly made sense to me. Why I make the same stupid mistakes over and over again. Why I try to do better, be better, but always feel like a failure. Why I can’t seem to overcome the negitive and focus on the positive. I wanted to scream out ” OH MY GOD. YES, YOU ARE SOO FREAKIN’ RIGHT!” but I just stared in awe at him like he was some tree of eternal wisdom or something.

There are a lot of things that I am incredibly ashamed of doing and coutless things, moments, and times I regret and ask forgiveness for. But I accepted them as my mistakes, big or small and I can’t always hate myself for actually growing up and learning my own lessons.

I feel better to know that I’m trying -at least trying- if anything to overcome my nafs and that I finally realized it’s really just a part of life. Most importantly, I’m learning that it’s only Allah I can rely on. Not my husband. Not my parents. Not my family. Not my friends. No one. Everyone I know or a part of my life is a means for Allah mercy and blessings for me, but at the end of the day, at the end of my life, it is only He who can and has helped me. Alhamdulilah He has answered too many of my duaas and calmed too many of my fears and troubles to make me doubt that He isn’t there for me as long as I go to Him. I love my Rabb and I fear Him, but most importantly I’m thankful I have a relationship with Him.

So yeah I still have my demons and I may have some of them for the rest of my life, but I’m learning. Although sometimes I still think I’m just a pile poop, I’m working on it.

And that’s what matters.

 

Coming Of Age

Its true what they say about finding yourself -you don’t for a long time.

You know, I always thought I had a strong sense of who I was and wanted to accomplish in my life. And it only made sense that as the years pass I would take the precious steps in discovering myself, but the world has it’s mysterious ways. I know 20 is young, heck, some don’t even think about who they are or what they want at 30, but it just seems that I’m not getting any closer in finding the “real” me. Although I know it takes a lifetime, I just want some kind of hint.

I often wonder what it is that fills others with so much passion for whatever it is they love to do or whomever they want to become and it sadden me a little bit because I still have no clue what will fill this void of mine. Although there are several things I’m good at, I can’t mold any of my talents into a career -even though  the circus would take me in right away. Maybe as a backup….yeah, the circus.

But there is one thing that I’ve always counted on. I’ve been med school bound since the day I was squeezed out of my mom’s va-jay-jay and so I never thought about a career outside of medicine and quite honestly, nothing really interests me as such either. In fact I’m either a doctor or a career hobo. That’s it. I really don’t have a backup and never needed one. But that’s not the problem. The problem is that somewhere along the line I lost whatever it is that gives me clarity in my intentions. It’s not about the money, it never has been. I could make twice as much in half the time as a major drug lord, only I’m not into that. I think the focus of having my parents’ dreams come true through myself suffocates me in regards to not having an option outside the world of medicine. But I know that’s what I tell myself to conceal my insecurities about the path I’ve chosen, or was chosen for me. Imagine your parents enduring the worst circumstances and sacrificing everything short of their lives for you to have the chance in achieving something unattainable to them -an education and a life. Now imagine all of their hopes, sacrifice, sweat, and blood being invested into what you do with your life. Considering the hell they endured for you, would you chose to live up to anything less than their expectations?

I’m not blaming my parents for anything, in fact I literally owe my life to them. I feel that I just happen to be the one they’re riding their dreams on. Like I’m the beating heart in all of the years of pumping blood. My sisters have it so easy in regards to their future. E, the cutest booger I ever did see has countless days to enjoy her childhood and S about to graduate from high school can major in anything her heart desires. But I didn’t have that option. I was born pre-med, went into high school pre-med, and got into college “majoring” in pre-med. And sometimes I like to think about what I would’ve -couldv’e- done if I had a choice. Let me clarify that my momz and popz never directly said “it’s medicine or death” to me, but I see it in my dad’s face when he talks to me about what classes he wants to take some day and when my mom comes home exhausted from a job she hates. They don’t verbalize their need for me to go to medical school, but they don’t need to. Their expressions and actions and back breaking labors scream louder.

I don’t mind really. I understand that someone has to be the person to “give the family a name.” As stupid as that may sound. But when your family is just another bunch of immigrants, especially without a college education, the children have to build the walls to their parents’ foundation. I have friends who, like myself, are venturing into their education to lead into their future jobs, but they don’t understand my stakes. Most, in fact all of them, are planning to become a doctor because it’s their cultural norm -at least one of the kids if not all have to do medicine. To them if you’re not a doctor, no one will want to marry their daughter to you, or you can’t marry anyone without an M.D after their name. It sickens me and  irritates me because it’s all about status in the end. I realize that it’s about bringing my family some sort of status as well, but the pressure is in the fact that I would be the first in my entire family to achieve such an education, just as I’m the first to attend college. All of my friends have parents with Ph. D’s and M.D’s and XYZ’s, so they’re the second or third  ”generation of success,” while it’s an entirely new experience for my humble family from Ethiopia. So as the offspring of once immigrants (we have the citizenship certificates, alright?), I have a tall order that I worry about delivering.

Nonetheless as I was saying it’s not about the money or even the status -that’s for  my parents. Personally, and I know how much of an annoying cliche this sounds, but I already said I don’t want to do anything else but medicine, for me it’s about what I want to do with the skills I acquire. Here’s my ultimate dream after becoming a doctor, InshaAllah: I want my husband and I to travel to Ethiopia, Sudan, Tunisia, Cambodia, Kiribati -a slew of poor countries- and help people there. I don’t want to have a private practice or join a hospital group because America sure as hell doesn’t need anymore doctors. I want to use my training for those who need it desperately not because they don’t have health insurance, but because there isn’t anyone with the skills and training to treat them.

I want to make a real change in this world and set an example for my children -all 18674 of them. Oh, yeah. That’s another issue. How am I supposed to have the large family I always wanted and still do my world wide medicine dream? Haul all of them around with me? What about normalcy in their lives? Do I want to expose them to so much so young? And how the hell am I going to be able to have the energy/resources/time/money to do all of this?! I don’t know. Is it even possible? I really don’t know. There are far too many questions and barely any answers. But one thing is for sure, I’m going to try because I’m greedy in what I want to do. I want the whole dang cake and eat it to.

My career and children are only the tip of the ice berg. I can’t even begin to explain the internal revolutions that spontaneously erupt as I venture through adulthood. Its amazing when I think about it. How can our hearts contain the momentous pressure of our thoughts and impulses yet beat every second of every day?

Even when it seems to be a beat away from exploding.

 

Good News, We Don’t Suck Afterall

Lately I’ve come to the conclusion that our generation is on a downward slope to dumb Knock Knock Jokes and some poor lad getting hit in the groin as the highest form of entertainment. I would occasionally browse through comments left on YouTube only to be left dumbfounded by the slang and downright horrific grammar. It makes me wonder if comprehendible English is a thing of the past.

We hear the frequent “These kids…” and “In my day…” to constantly remind us of our laziness and narcissism with our chatting, emailing, and FaceBook, MySpace, your face, our place –whatever. But there is good news for us growing up in the age of computers.

According to an article in Scientific American, it turns out that we’re no more self absorbed and arrogant that past generations, specifically our parent’s generation. The brief article explains a research conducted by scientists in which they measured the “Me” generation in terms of their purpose in life and activities and then compared the findings with the same age bracket of the 1970’s. The 25,000 or so college students used for the study showed zero increase in narcissism than that of the student measured in 1970.

So guys, we’re alright after all. But I still get a little worried when I see words like “all time” spelled as “ultime.” I think text messaging and abbreviations are destroying our vocabulary and if you’re like me and can’t spell as it is, then Allah help you.

“ttyl”,
amira

 

Here’s What You Missed

Here’s a neat-o snippet of what we learned in the Heavenly Hues Al Maghrib course taught by Sheik Yasir Birjas.

Hosna presents: Hosna’s Heavenly Hues Gem Reel

What’s a Gem? A gem is something that touches your heart or gives you a jolt of realization. It’s something you never contemplated or heard of before. Something that stays with you, comforts you, and at times makes you tear up. Simply put its an amazingly powerful “SubhanhAllah” moment that leaves you breathless and craving for more.

Enjoy.

 

"A" Is For Amigo, "B" Is For Buddy, "C" Is..Ah You Get It

You know the people that you just love for the sake of Allah? The people, friends, family, person, or just plain fellow human being that you find yourself wanting to hug the life out of because they just impose this strong and sometimes sudden lovey-dovey impulse to on you?

It’s a beautiful feeling and guess when I feel that the most? When I feel a lightness in my heart, meaning when I’m trying to strengthen my eman and am surrounded by wonderful sisters.

If you saw me as recently as two years ago, I was the girl that got along with everyone. I could sit at any table in the high school cafeteria and blend right in -a perfect chameleon if you will. But I didn’t feel wholesome although I had so many friends. In fact most were either friends or good friends and there was only one or two that was a “friend” in every sense of the word. Plainly put, this cowgirl (me) had plenty of quantity, but not as much quality.

Then I got married and was introduced to this new set of people that I had no idea existed and wouldn’t have met if it wasn’t for Allah, then my husband, then Al Maghrib (my husband introduced me to Al Maghrib where I met the majority of the sisters I know now). Boy oh boy, did my eyes really open up. There’s a real community of Muslims here? That actually attend halaqas and hold events? Are you serious about this city based organization for the youth? Get outta here…

Where the Jahannam have I been?

So the more time I spend with this new set of amigos, the more I realized that I was hanging with the wrong crowd. But then again, I didn’t have a choice since I was one of two hijaabis at school. So I slowly but surely began to isolate myself from the “secular” friends and became almost obsessed with the “religious” batch of friends. It was a new era, a new world, and a new experience for me to be surrounded with so many sisters that were involved in things I didn’t even know about. SubhanAllah, what a small and unique world because it was all happening in my very own backyard!

So almost three years later I’ve developed friendships with sisters from all over the city, state, and even some outside of this cowboy land of mine. So what I’ve made you read through an entire post is to say alhamdulilah for the split second change in my life (Islamically and spiritually) through new smiling-hijab-wearing (and some niqab sporting)-salam-greeting-faces I’ve encountered.

your friend,
amira

 

Urine: The New Water

In my infinite amount of spare time here on campus (an hour and a half) I visited a long time favorite yet forgotten magazine of mine -Scientific American. Golly gee, I love this magazine. I came across an article that struck me as a possible solution to one of our “going green” solutions.

The article was about how astronauts sustain their thirst through recycled urine. Yes, that’s right, I said recycled urine which really doesn’t seem that grotesque when compared to the straight-from-your-bladder-urine that some individuals drink (I know you’ve seen things like that on the Discovery Channel). It’s a really interesting and expensive process that is outlined in the following except.

“The first step involves filtering solid particles such as skin cells and hair out of the liquid. After that, contaminants are chemically dissolved and oxygen is added to the liquid to oxidize trace organics so that they, too, can be removed. Next, the liquid is “polished,” meaning chemicals left over from the cleaning process are removed. Finally, iodine is added for microbial control, much the way municipal water authorities add chlorine to city drinking water. The resulting liquid is sent to a large storage tank, which can be tapped for drinking.” (Scientific American)

Now this, to me, seems to be one of those things when you wouldn’t even notice the difference if given a cup of “regular” water and one of recycled urine, just like when you think you’re eating beef but it’s really goat. But then again I’ve never tried recycled urine and if I were to it would, of course, have to be my urine because it’s only fair to feel safer with your own urine than a stranger’s. Am I giving this too much thought?

Anyhow it occured to me that some parts of the world don’t have adequate drinking water and since it doesn’t seem like we’re doing anything about it, why not recycle their urine? Because we all pee.

I’m sure it’s more expensive (and messy) to recycle an entire country’s supply of urine but what if there was a way to do this globally if by some chance we ran out of drinking water. After all, the vast majority of the earth is covered in non-consumable H2O.

It’s just a thought, certainly not as plausible, but imaginative nonetheless.

Who knows, maybe in a couple of years or decades “I’m thirsty” could have a whole new meaning.

regards,
amira

 

Grow Family Tree Grow

I am Ethiopian.

That’s how I define myself nationally and sadly it has become a habitual response when asked where I “originally” come from. I’m not sure when I began feeling this way, but as odd as it may sound I never gave the thought of actually being from Ethiopia -a real country with a history and past- much thought. Maybe it started when I had to explain that Ethiopia was in northeastern Africa and NOT in Asia.”Ethiopia” doesn’t even sound Asian. It is just a place that I come from just as a Jupiterian would be from Jupiter, no big deal.

Then last night the hubz and I thought we would brush up on some facts and ended up reading pages and pages of Ethiopian history. I think since I grew up with the language (well one of the major languages), food, and overall culture I just assumed that everyone knew about E-tope-ia then I realized that heck, even I don’t know about it.

It all started with a simple question -”What are your ancestors from?”- by the hubz and with no hint of hesitation I responded “E-tope-ia silly!” “Everybody is Ethiopian at heart!” Then I remembered my mom’s friend who was clearly Ethiopian, but actually descended from Israel and that her great-grand parents are not actually Ethiopian at all. So I began to wonder “What if I’m not really-really Ethiopian?!” My whole life would have been a big fat dor-oh eating lie.

So my husband and I tried to find our ancestry online of all places for about five mintues before we gave up and decided that to go for a real ancestry-ist (I don’t know what they’re called -the folks who look up your family tree…genealogists?) and opted to at least find out about the motherland. It was so gratifying and simply beautiful to read history from as early as 100 B.C. and have that feeling of national pride. I began thinking about the five -yes FIVE whole years- learning about U.S. and Texas history and only one weakly year of world history during school and it irritated me to know how limited our view of history really is.

I understand that obviously when you live in China you learn Chinese history from the Chinese perspective same as in America or any other country, but I wish there was some way take a history course of another country without having to major in it (if they even offer it as a major) because I think we’re missing out on the lost treasures of each country and their unique impact on the world we know today. MashaAllah there are countries like Egypt that everyone knows about because of it’s foot print in so many religious debuts and scriptures, not to mention the numerous artifacts, monuments etc. left behind. But what about countries that we never hear about like Mongolia or Tunisia (or Ethiopia!).

So as my husband and I read we realized it’s relevance in not only Islamic history of course, but in Christianity and how much of it’s history is never taught to Ethiopian youth here in America. I remember in Islamic school when the teacher would mention Ethiopia my whole body would be electrocuted with excitement and in my head I’d yell “THAT’S ME! THAT’S ME!” because I always hear about other countries so when Ethiopia is mentioned and especially in the context of Islam and King Negashi -oh yeah, that’s me…the Ethiopian. I just want to make that awesome ringing sound Ethiopian and I believe Arab women can make. It’s ear piercing, but worth going deaf for.

I think it’s a duty for the youth and parents to educate their children about their country’s past whether it be glorious or grim. I can’t imagine living in Ethiopia only because too I’m spoiled with everyday commodities here, but the stories and sense of love of national pride I hear from elders and even my husband (he lived there until he was 12) makes me feel like “Dangit, I feel so un-cultural about my own culture.”

So folks I encourage you to take some time to figure out where you’re from; it helps your world make a little more sense.

I’m not one for cliches, but it’s too true to deny that can’t know where you’re going without knowing where you come from.

 

Ed-juh-ma-kay-tion

Remember those “It’s cool to stay in school” shirts that teachers would give out in elementary schools? Because you have to brainwash them that early. Then by the time those same kids get to high school there’s a new all time high in drop out statistics?

I was a happy little tot in second grade eagerly receiving my matching cup,pencil,shirt,and shoe laces (don’t ask) during one of those annual “school=cool” campaigns.

Then I was the same kid who when reaching high school…..STAYED. I wasn’t apart of the drop out gang. And I was never apart of the “School is so lame” crowd either. I like -correction- love school. Go ahead tease, taunt, throw tomatoes, whatever makes you happy, but I’m a proud school hugger and lover. Yeah, so I bought into the “school is cool” campaign, they suckered me right in (or maybe it was the shoes laces).

I’m not saying that I’d rather be on campus or livin‘ up the dream in a Quantum Physics class with Prof. Accent-Too-Thick-To-Understand, but alhamdulilah I have the option and means to go to school. I think it’s easy to forget that it’s not a privilege that everyone on Allah’s green earth has.

“Ugh, why do I have to be here!” is something I hear occasionally and my response is “Then shut up and give your spot to someone who would kill for a chance to learn you ungrateful pile of poop” (but in my head of course -I’m not trying to get beat up)

It irritates me like a bad rash when I hear students complain about homework or how much they dislike so and so about an assignment. I bet a father in Tanzania with seven hungry mouths to feed wishes he had an opportunity to go to school for a better job to feed his family. I can say there are millions of children in Angolia, Bangledesh, Benin, Nepal, Haiti, Loas etc. in which the youth are dying to learn how read at the age of 15 (or heck even adults). And here we are complain about a college education.

Look at me, I’m a product of that wish from my parents. Mom and Pop sacrificed everything and more to bring my siblings and I here and why you ask? For the sole purpose of an education. Providing a better life and whatever else was an added bonus, but I understand that education was what their journey by foot and camel to Sudan and then settling there for three years before they finally had that one shot to come to America was all about education. A better life through education.

Don’t misunderstand me, I don’t ooze with love for school every waking second, but I do know that I’m lucky enough to be in it. Sure there may be more people in the world with education at their fingertips (and people actually have to force them to attend), but there is also a significant number of those who have never attended school -and I mean since birth.

So next time you want to curse your prof./teacher over extra homework, think about the kid who would cry with joy over the same assignment and thank Allah that you’re getting what so many wish they had -an education.

sincerely,
amira

 

BFF And Ever and Ever

Who’s your “Best Friend(s) Forever”? And who the heck comes up with these terms ?

Let me tell you about mine. I’m going to start from the very beginning -as in back in middle school.

Get comfortable.

In sixth grade I was part of a pack, like a lioness pack. It was me and a bunch of girls I didn’t exactly blend in with although they were awesome chickas. My cool bunch included girls that I had very little in common with except that we were on the same softball team.

Imagine this and when I say they all looked similar, I really mean they all looked similar. It was Shannon, Taylor, Samantha, Meagon, and Christina -then throw Amira into the bunch. I really stuck out like a spot of color on a white canvas. I stuck with them for only that one year because it was getting hard for me to pretend I was into the same things they were and so I became a loner. All alone and …lonely.

Until I met my second pack of comrades. I immediately fell into their world by chance. I stayed with this batch of beanheads until we parted ways to begin high school.

Here’s the cool part. Were were literally like the cast of Friends except there were seven of us. I don’t know if Friends was even on at that time.

Meet the cast:

George (Joey) Kim (Monica)
Abbey (Ross) Blair (Phoebe/Ross mix)
Noah (Chandler) Amira (Phoebe/Chandler mix)
Yordanose (Rachel)

We were a tight pack and guess what? Yordanose, Abbey, and I were all Ethiopian. I have never been with so many Ethiopians in school before. All THREE, that’s right, THREE of us together.

Anyways we moved on after the endless tears and “I’ll always call you. You guys means so much to me. I’ll never forget you” -boohoo boohoo boohoo. Last time I spoke with my friends (pun intended -hah) was maybe 9th grade.

Then there was high school. Oh, high school you never cease to make me want to run away. I was with a new bunch almost every year if not semester. Here’s a quick rundown :

9th Grade: Everyone was new to each other so we all just mingled a lot.

10th Grade: Me? Part of the fashion gurus? I’m so honored! It lasted one semester -who cares if I wore spring colors in the fall?! There was so much anxiety in trying to match my hijab with stupid uniform colors -why all the stress?!?
Second semester I fell into the hip n’ hoppin’ crowd and I quickly bounced my way out.

11th Grade: Let’s give it up for the paki/indi. folks. Made me feel right at home since I was often mistaken for one anyway. Most of my good memories come from this era in high school.

12th rade: fun times with the our-life-goal-is-to-be-on-MadTv/SNL- group. They were a hilarious bunch of beanheads.

There was also my “trip home” ratpack. Simy, Astha, and I lived a hair’s distance away from each other and always rode to and from school together, watched movies, and visited each others’ homes.

I miss them.

In high school there was also Summer who I have oodles of love for; she’s a genuine Southern Belle. And Simone who I will always love to just be silly with. She knew how to make you bust your gut in laughter.

Now I’ve given up. I’m more of a floater (or chameleon?) and I realize that I always have been. I’ve don’t care about wanting to say “I can’t wait to tell my bestesttestsesttest friend…” because I have too many fantastic friends now, before, and always.

I don’t a have a”BFF”, but some “SCF” (Super Close/Cool Friends) and plenty of “WILTKSMFP” (Wow, I’m Lucky To Know So Many Fan-tab-u-lous People)