Distributing Smiles :)

After the date was set, tickets were booked, luggage packed, 28th October, my dad, sister and I were in the airport to fly to Amman. My mother came from Amman only the night before and the plan was to join us the next week. But, mom's relative decided to join us and fly to Amman too.

Carrying too many big bags we were transferred to Overweight luggage. It was 7:30 in the morning and our flight was 9:30. The lines were still empty. We were the only family there weighing our bags the woman on the counter said "you may leave to Amman but I'm afraid the old lady won't" We all had huge exclamation marks over our heads. She added "Her passport is an S"

Attawie's thoughts were "It's ok, no problem. She can go back but I'm leaving to Amman, to KJ, to do the civil marriage papers. Calm down, smile and breathe."

The old lady worried and nagging how to go back to the city with all her bags. My dad went to check the airport security if the regulation is right and she can't fly with; my sister busy with weighing bags and putting tags. And Attawie was distributing smiles here and there pretending there was nothing.

Almost an hour passed and we're still in our same place. The airlines were waiting for a Jordanian authority to wake up and report to work, due to time difference, so they can give us instructions. We waited and waited and people start to come and go. The airline employees' shift changed and the new people are asking what the story was. We explained to them and one of them was really worried and stayed with us giving us consolation. She said "I'm new here, almost a month. But let me tell you that I was given instruction not to let any Iraq or Palestinian on the plane without calling my immediate boss. It's a rule". Attawie was standing distributing smiling here and there and announcing "I'm the bride".

Almost two hours passed and we're still in our same place. My sister called the Jordanian embassy to check if an Iraqi with an S passport can enter Jordan. They said there is such regulation but since the passenger is a resident in another country then there's no problem until 2010. We informed the airlines and the airport security and they said they have to check with the embassy themselves. And Attawie still distributing smiles here and there assuring herself "it's nothing!"

An airport security officer was really nice; he said the airplane won't fly without you even if we had to delay the take off. He stayed with us for so long and kept assuring us there won't be a problem.

For me, I was ready to fly that day no matter what. It's a matter of booking a taxi and finding someone to carry the relative's bags and send her to the city. As simple as that, a piece of cake. But she was so worried about leaving and not leaving, mumbling and nagging and talking to herself. I really like the lady but "hello! I'm the bride" it should be all about me, me and me!

Dingdong "Alnidaa alakheer lirokab al ri7la raqam XYZ almotawajiha ila Amman"

- Atta: what was that?
- Sana: didn't notice.

Dingdong "This is the final call for flight no. XYZ heading to Amman"

Attawie starts distributing smiles extensively. Next moment another Airport officer comes and stands next to our luggage on the scale. He starts saying words in his walky-talky I couldn't understand and whispers to the airlines employee. The bags went in and disappeared from our sights. We're given a paper to pay for the overweight luggage. The Airport Officer No.1 accompanies us to the accountancy. We're sent in the lift to gate…" na'a no gate, an airport officer will receive you there".

My sister with her knee injury, dad with his right thigh torn muscle, the old lady with her back pain, were all meters behind me when the lift door was open. I found the officer and quickened my pace. The officer said something in his walky-talky and in seconds a female officer received me. She said where are the rest? I pointed at them. Now I was runny with her and followed by the rest. She said something in the walky-talky and added "I've got the bride. The four people are following". Another female officer received us and she was accompanied by a guy dressed in formal airport uniform. He took me to the airline's desk to take the boarding cards. Passports were with my sister. He said follow me and they will get the cards. We headed two floors down on feet and there UAE officers were waiting for us and a big bus took us to the airplane. The hostess received us with smiles pointing towards ours seats; the only empty seats on the plane. Felt all eyes were staring at me. I was thinking "OMG they must be saying this is why we're ten minutes behind schedule" So I had to continue distributing smiles!

Within seconds we were flying in the sky heading to Amman. And Attawie still distributing smiles but instead of praying silently in her heart she was now thanking God everything went great.

That's all for now
But there will be more later :)

Wealth, Success and Love

A woman came out of her house and saw 3 old men with long white beards sitting in her front yard. She did not recognize them. She said "I don't think I know you, but you must be hungry. Please come in and have something to eat."

"Is the man of the house home?", they asked.

"No", she replied. "He's out."

"Then we cannot come in", they replied.



In the evening when her husband came home, she told him what had happened.

"Go tell them I am home and invite them in!"

The woman went out and invited the men in"

"We do not go into a House together," they replied.

"Why is that?" she asked.



One of the old men explained: "His name is Wealth," he said pointing to one of his friends, and said pointing to another one, "He is Success, and I am Love." Then he added, "Now go in and discuss with your husband which one of us you want in your home."


The woman went in and told her husband what was said. Her husband was overjoyed. "How nice!!", he said. "Since that is the case, let us invite Wealth. Let him come and fill our home with wealth!"


His wife disagreed. "My dear, why don't we invite Success?"

Their daughter was listening from the other corner of the house. She jumped in with her own suggestion: "Would it not be better to invite Love? Our home will then be filled with love!"

"Let us heed our daughter's advice," said the husband to his wife.

"Go out and invite Love to be our guest."

The woman went out and asked the 3 old men, "Which one of you is Love? Please come in and be our guest."

Love got up and started walking toward the house. The other 2 also got up and followed him. Surprised, the lady asked Wealth and Success: "I only invited Love, Why are you coming in?"


The old men replied together: "If you had invited Wealth or Success, the other two of us would've stayed out, but since you invited Love, wherever He goes, we go with him. Wherever there is Love, there is also Wealth and Success!!!!! !"

The Story of Stuff

This is a must seen mind-blowing video for all of us. By that I mean: see, listen, understand, and above all react.

I've always loved the word "stuff" but I never knew there could be such a story behind it! I loved this video and loved it even more when it said "Iraq" and laughed at "Bush"'s name when it came up. Knowing this story is part of "know the whole story" and knowing the truth about wars, poverty, ignorance and how the world is taking steps towards the abbey.

Just like the missing pieces in the "incomplete diagram" you originally saw, each of the person of the people you saw has a story. It's a global issue and your job is at least help to spread awareness to make this planet a better place.

If you're into websites and want to know everything about it then please check the official website of The Story of Stuff

If you're more into blogs then click here

That's all for now
and I wish I can Host a Screening

Za2ir al Layl

He has the guts to show up again! After all these years, after all the explanation I gave to myself for his existence in this world, after doing my best to forget his name, he's here! And for the second time this week!

Standing there with his straight emotionless face, at my door, same face I used to see and swear to everyone that he's smiling at me. Oh God, I forgot how much I hate him now. But his presence brings back bunch of memories, sweet and bitter, that I do treasure.

I don't remember how we first met but I'm sure it was in my grandma's house when I was very young, maybe 5 years old or even younger. I never liked him and my grandma used to tell me "Just ignore him. Forget he's there"

All mischief happens when he's around. I remember once I was very annoyed for his presence and I decided to raise the broom to scare him and since the broom stick was taller than me, as well as my young sister, it fell on her head and she was taken to the ER and she came home with couple of stitches in her head. She always blames ME for that and not him! Not even once!

And there he is standing as high as the door, pretending he's cool. But I swear I saw him breathing fast and could count his heartbeats. I was told once that he senses other's heartbeats and knows if people are intimidated by him. So whenever I see him
I do my best not to show my pulse has reached over 150 bpm.

After all these years, I forgot how much I hate him. I remember when I was a teenager; he "accidentally" came in to family bathroom when I was there. I kept screaming and shouting at him. And later thanked God that my bathroom was fixed ASAP so I won't have to go to the family bathroom and remember this embarrassing experience.

Today, standing in the flesh, facing me with his ever known rudeness, in no doubt of the feelings I had for him, and certain that today I despise him more than ever and hated the sound of his name, staring at me without a blink. I gaze at him telling myself "I'm strong enough to face him. He's nothing. I'll survive this moment and will brag about it later" which I'm not sure of right now.

I decided to act like him. He stares, I stare back. He says nothing, I say nothing too. He pretends to ignore me. I pretend to ignore him too. He stands there silently; I'm silent still… until I came to my senses and remembered I'm all by myself and the last thing on earth I would want is to be with him in the same room with no one else around. All my fears for this moment were what if he steps in?

I was working on a piece of art, using a trimmer and wooden tools, my hand grabbed the nearest scalpel. Yes, I used scalpels and I have many sizes. Holding the scalpel in my hands, raised it to make sure he'll notice it I said with a firm voice "addamorrak, agga6i3ak, ashari7ak… etha tfakir tidkhul" (I'll destroy you, cut you into pieces, and dissect you… if you think of coming in).

To tell you the truth, I'm not sure if he understood a word but I'm sure these words were enough to alarm him and that's how he decided to wait until I was not looking at him so he can escape from the opening between the ceiling and the door and save face. Lizards!

After I graduated from the 4th grade, during the summer when I had a very long curly hair, I used to tie my pony tail really high so the hair won't touch my neck. I was playing at our neighbors' garden with my sister and their two daughters. Their two young men cousins where staying with them so they were in the garden to witness the scene. The girls and I were playing with dolls and I felt my hair was on my arm. It ticked me so I pulled my hair to the other side. Something was still there and that's when I started shouting and running, followed by the girls, all hurrying towards my house and some other kids from the street started running with us.

I went in to my mom, crying and telling her: "I looked at him while he was standing on my arm… I moved my arm… he looked at me... He ran towards my hand… then looked left and right as if he's crossing a street and then went to the finger in the middle and jumped to the porch". He was very tiny that you may see his guts through his pink skin. That summer I was no longer the girl with the long hair.

In the year 2000, I moved to bigger room which had a bigger window the only door to the backyard garden that was known as Attawie's garden. I was very excited about having a bigger room and a garden for myself. I kept dreaming about making it something like "7adeeqat Ommi" (my mother's garden) the one I used to see in Sandy Bell cartoon. All my dreams went in vain with the first visit paid by a huge gigantic lizard. The door was locked ever since and was covered from all sides with sponge and wood.

My mother is a real Lizard-buster. Even neighbors used to call her to help them with such situation. She has a broom stick that she used only for the purpose of killing this creature, in addition to a sort of pest control gun with a formula called "nogoss" (if that's the right spelling). He was able to hi that huge lizard but it wasn't enough to kill him. But he disappeared. After about a month he appeared in my sister's room with two tails! He started to appear several times here and there and no one could catch him. We started calling him "abu thailain" (the one with two tails)

Then he paid me another visit and disappeared. I saw him leave the room but nobody outside the room saw him coming out. After a while a small lizard was about to enter my room and disappeared! I thought there must be a reason why lizards disappear next to my door. That's when I discovered that there was a missing piece of wood on the top of my door where lizard can get inside the door itself. We covered the place of the missing piece with a sticking tape as well as the whole of the lock. I left the door open for days until I could touch the handle. Eventually I forgot about it.
The next summer, I heard scratching sound and a weird screaming sound but not of a human. Then a wounded average-sized lizard came out followed by "abu thailain"! I left the room and things were taken care of by my mother and I don't even want to know the rest of the story.

That's all for now
And I hope I won't see a lizard again

To All My Friends Out There

There was a boy, a very hard to please. His father gave him a bag full of nails and said: "Hit a nail onto the garden's fence whenever you lose your temper or disagree with someone".

On the first day, the boy put 37 nail on the garden fence. A week passed and the boy learned how to control his temper and the number of nails added per day was declining. The boy now knows that watching his attitude and having everything under control is easier than using the hammer and hitting nails on the fence.

Gradually, the day has come and the boy told his father he never had to add a nail that day. The father asked the boy to remove a nail from the fence for each day that passes without losing his temper. Finally, the boy was able to come to his father and tell him that he removed all the nails.

The father took his son to the fence and said: "Dear son, you did great with your good behavior, but look at these holes left on the fence. The fence will never look as it was before!"

When you disagree with someone and an argument takes place, or when differences come to surface; some harsh words are said. These words leave people with deep wounds just like these nail holes you see on the fence. You can stab someone and pull out the knife from the body but you may leave a scar of a wound.

It doesn't matter how many times you said you're sorry because that wound still exist. Injuries of harsh words are more painful than physical injuries.

Friends are rare jewels, they are there to cheer you up and be there for you whenever you need them. They are always there to listen whenever you feel to open up. Therefore, show them what you feel for them.

That's all for now
Thanks for being my friend

It Was A Tree

It was a tree. A tree like any tree you may see in the street. You may see huge melancholy on its branches, as if it was carrying burden of the hundred years it ages. But its trunk proudly stands against stormy winds. A lot have been said about the tree in many different religions and cultures. Many myths and stories surrounds this tree and it's blesses.

It is said that its fruit was the first fruit Adam, peace be upon him, tasted on earth. The same tree has many names in many different cultures. It is known as Christ thorn Jujube, Siddir (or Annab in Arabic) which is recommended by Islamic Medicine. Traditional medicine also has a lot to say about it. Its leaves are used to cast off magic spells, the scientific name of Nabk Trees.

This tree is full of benefits whether its trunk, leaves, flowers or the fruit and its seeds. It is cultivated southern Asia, between Syria, northern India, and southern and central China, and possibly also southeastern Europe though more likely introduced there.

It is believed to alleviate stress, throat soothing, gum problems, ease the stomach, keep bugs and other insects out of the house and free of infestation. Even the honey that bees make from its flowers nectar is very expensive because of its benefits.
A funny thing, the sweet smell is said to make teenagers fall in love, and as a result, in the Himalaya and Karakoram regions, men take a stem of sweet-smelling jujube flowers with them or put it on their hats to attract women.

Although it's an evergreen tree but it tends to pour down its leaves during every single day of the year. How do you I know that? Because I used to sweep its leaves for fun in my grandparents' garage and at times in our garden.

Seeing the round yellowish round fruits on the ground made me forget all about my paranoia and hygiene issues and pick as much as I could carry in my both hands. Washing them with water and drying them with tissue papers there was nothing left but to taste them.

One bite and I literally could say I was charmed. Charmed with this holly fruit taste and what it represented to me. I was no longer there. All I could sense was the sweet honey taste on my tongue and the thousands thoughts, sensations and memories I never knew they existed.

Standing on a three step ladder, with grandma next to me, holding on to me to make sure I was standing safely, on the roof where the dove were roaming above our heads, and birds singing in their nests. Grandma holding on to me while I carry the bucket where we keep the fruits we collect.

Reaching my hand to a nabk fruit that a bird took a tiny bite, reluctant to pick it, I recalled grandma's answer when I used to tell her "but the bird took a bite!" she would reply "Yes dear, it took a small bite to taste it to tell us this one is sweet, take it. It's yummy so the bird left it to us"

During the 1991 war, when we were at my grandparents' house, we spent most of the clear shinny morning playing badminton. Whenever our feather shuttle flies high it get stuck in the branches of the two gigantic trees. We usually attempt to start throwing things, anything you name it, until we call our grandpa to help us. Thousands of tournaments took place under the shades of those two beloved trees.
At school, wars were raged between classes. You see the boys throwing stones and girls run to collect. Each student would throw his best shot and each girl runs as fast as she could to collect the magic fruit and split "fifty-lifty" as we used to call breakeven shares. At times Stones would pour down on student passing by to be sent to ER, nevertheless, that doesn't mean to stop hunting for this sinfully delicious fruit.

After 1992, we moved to a new home where there was one of those trees. It never stopped to amaze us how many pairs of shoes we found when it was time for trimming the tree. We would laugh and make stories about how those people had to leave barefooted.

A handful of fruits and I felt that was it. They are the same fruit. They are the same colour. They have the same smell But in Iraq this fruit was taster and therefore, I had no more.

Here is the second pick :) I know its not as seductive as cherries nor as funny as strawberries but I wouldn't trade them for any of those.



That's all for now

Nobody is Too Old to Play with Balloons

One of the strangest thing happened to me yesterday whiling sitting for the exam. The huge classroom was decorated with ribbons and balloons. It seems there was sort of a celebration the night before. I made my way to my usual chair, first desk on the right. Since it was examination time, the setting of the classroom was different than usual. Huge spaces between desks and my chair was pushed to the front right corner of room.

Once I was settled and about to receive my exam book I noticed that the balloons where on the ground and left a silly place on the wall where they were placed. On the ground, there was remains of a green balloon which was poorly laying on the ground.

For a couple of moments I had a flashback of the little activity we had during the seminar with balloons. Laughing secretly, I also remembered the balloon that I saved that night and blew only recently on Friday and had fun with my sister and making jokes about how "Nobody is too old to play with balloons".

We, my parents, my sister and I, were sitting in the living room when I jumped to the room to bring the balloon. That evening on Friday it was proved with evidence that "Nobody is too old to play with balloons".

All those flashes came to me while waiting for the question sheet. But once I received the papers I wished I did not for I hoped I was able to capture a photo with my cell phone for the funny look of balloons next to my desk. The red one was really big but the green was medium.

Being myself, I concentrated on answer sheet and forgot the world outside the white sheet lined with blue and words flowing from my pen. After about 50 minutes of writing, my fingers were aching. I took the chance to relax my hand and have a look on the funny balloons but... OMG! they are not there! Pretended I was adjusting my seat, I tried to peek at the ground which made me feel I'm peeking in someone else's answer sheet. But the balloons were not there!

Anyway, had to go back on my exam, I went to my concentrating status. Then suddenly BANG!!! A balloon exploded! The sound was very loud. I took a look on the class and all eyes were looking at me! "I didn't do that"-look was on my face. Chaotic speaking and silly comments were on and the instructor kept saying "keep quiet"

That moment I thanked God that I was an Iraqi and I am used to bombing sounds. That balloon could have made me react differently.

I tried to know if the balloons that disappeared a while ago is the one which exploded but no use. I couldn't find the remains nor the other balloon. I was "thinking they were two, please God I don't want any other surprise". While taking my breath and trying to maintain normal heartbeats BANG! The sound was even closer. I tried to fine those balloon remains but all in vain!

All eyes were on me once again and the chaos was on for another while with the teacher saying "please, no talking. Keep quiet" A colleague who was sitting behind me said "I think that was the balloons in front of your desk" I was thinking"I KNOW" but where are they!

Two hours later I handed my answer sheet and looked at the area where the balloons were laying but nothing! My family where outside waiting for me in the car. The moment the car moved I remembered that I forgot the book and my notebook under the desk so I had to go back.

The examination room was almost empty. Only one student was left, another handing his paper and the teacher on the stage. I asked permission to take the books and took the chance to look closely on the ground and there was NOTHING!

A Swing in the 13th Floor

I woke up today with an unusual pain in my legs. Nothing came to my mind other than yesterday's mischief of being lost in space after. Me and my team were facing some problems with the spaceship. We had to land in a strange planet where we fought half-robot-half-human army. They were huger than us and were armed with gadgets we haven't seen before.

But that was a dream! then it must be the steps I take to my classes three times a week. After a while it all came back to me.

I was checking my email yesterday around 3 PM when I felt really dizzy. For someone fasting during Ramadan this is not a good news. It means you're not having the right portion of food to keep you healthy. But I remember very well that I had biryanee (rice with biryanee spices and vegetables), roasted piece of chicken, salad and a piece of cake with dried figs for desert. I can't be hungry this soon!

With closed eyes I was still feeling dizzy. Not a good idea to stand up, I looked right and there it was. The stuffed tiger with long dangling hands and legs was swinging right and left. It can't be the AC that made it move because if it was so then the shelves he was hanging on should not move too! Oh my God! An earthquake.

I ran to the next room where my father was helping my sister to hang her new shelves. I told them that there's an earth quake and I'm feeling dizzy. So they'd better change. We have to leave the building. A moment of silence there was and I said it's true look at the chandlers, they are swinging.

The earthquake was still there, the chandlers were still going left right and left, I put some important stuff in my handbag and told dad to bring the case of our important documents. We could hear screams of people in panic but still there was nothing to panic about. I can't remember if my mother was the one who called or I called her but we made sure that she was doing fine and we told her we're leaving the building.

When my sister and I went to the lift we found a women I've never seen before. From her features I can say I've seen her before. She must be the mother of the kids who play in the hallway. She greeted us and said it's good that you're leaving, and not to worry it's an earthquake. Dad joined us after a moment. The lift came but it was full of scared people and I think I saw a teen crying.

The women said let's take the stairs. She opened the door leading to the stairs and we went in. I've never seen what's behind that door. I've always thought it was an unpleasant dark damp place like we see in thrillers. Surprisingly, the place was very clean and well lit. I took my sister's hand and followed the lady. Dad was few steps behind us very calmly going down. Then it hit me! We live in the 13th floor! As long as it's not going up then it should be alright. Many people joined us from other floors.

When we reached the 6th floor, my mother was still on the phone, we remembered that we forgot a really important thing upstairs. But we decided to go down anyway. I called three of my friends to make sure they left their building and my sister called a relative. I toled her not to scare them and to give them the news calmly so she did in a very weird calm way buy asking the woman to put her 4 years old son on the phone. I was looking at her and telling her to ask him to give the phone back to his mum. Yet she asks him if he wanted an airplane or a car!

While spending more than half an hour downstairs, under the burning sun, I tried to fine something on the radio to tell us anything about what's going on but it was all in vain. My mother said that in Dubai the earthquake was stronger. After a while she updated us and said that real earthquake happened in Iran 6.1 on Richter scale!

After that people started to go back home since we were almost sure that everything was fine. As long as those were the aftershock then no need to worry anymore. It was nice to meet the thirteen floors from a different point of view.

Here's the news that we got afterwards.
Oh and the boy my sister talked to wanted a fast car :)

That's all for now.

Khadhra Died :(

I know it was expected by my sister and I sort of talked my self into taking it easily but still it's sad.

I thought this fish was going to last a bit longer. The energy she had was promising. Her last minutes, even though it was very easy to figure out that she was struggling, there was still hope.



My parents never approved home pets. We had a series of sad stories with dogs. Gimmie died of old age and sickness, Blackie poisoned by neighbors, Nanno was kidnapped from the street after I gave her a bath. And many other dogs at our grandparents' home.

As for cats, my sister and I used to feed cats secretly to keep them in the garden. Somehow we were attached to a cat that gave birth in our backyards. We played with one of the kittens and the mother cat abandoned it. We did our best to keep her but she died young. My dad and I buried her and kept it a secret form my sister and told her that the mother came and took her back.

During 2003 war, we were staying at my mother's uncle's, a cat gave birth in the garden and I liked the orange one and called her Mishmooshti (from Mishmish ie apricot)took care of her and fed her and she grew into furry-orange-hairball. Don't get excited, the neighbor's dog ate her!

Fish.. where do I begin? We had a black one called Abaska, can't remember much about her except that she DIED. Khookha and Khaz3al also were a merry couple but one day during cleaning their place my sister put them in the sink and added tab water. oh I forgot to say it was August and the water was boiling. She literately boiled them.

While my sister was studying in Jordan, she had Meme and another fish id don't remember. The one I that I don't remember died the first day I think. Meme followed it after a while. Then there was Puspus. She was a suicidal fish. My sister says that Puspus may have thought that she could fly or live outside water. She managed to dive Outside water twice but my sister was able to put her back in water. Someday my sister woke up and found her on the carpet!

Then there was Tiswahin (i.e best of all) and she was tiswahin for real. She used to make sounds and jump up and down the moment my sister step a foot home. She was something else. The second day I arrived Amman, my sister and I got Buqla. She is a stupid fish, dull and ate nothing until I started to grain the food for her.

Buqla, as seen in the previous post, developed a friendly personality after two weeks. She started to kiss our fingers and make clicking sounds in the morning or sometimes even at dawn to wake me up :) she's staying at my sister's friend.


The box which was given to my sister's friend. Buqla :)


At certain times I wished I had a hamster or a bird. But my family never approved such a thing. It's easy to get attached to pet and sooner or later you have to let them go. Until then I'll be happy to have my lifeless-limbless-Pet I have since late 1990s, which I just discovered I never gave it a name!

Happy New Hijri Year

Tonight is the Hijri New Year’s Eve. I have to write this post because it was on my mind for more than a while now.
This date is very dear to my heart. I’ve never really understood it till 1998, when my religion teacher told us that this day is a date to celebrate just like 1\1. She told us to light a candle on a cake and to pray for a happy new year for all of our loved ones and for the Islamic World.

That same day I went with my mother to her friend’s home. The women had three sons, the same age like me and my sisters, and we had good friendship for about a year until we developed different interest, or I guess grew up.

The guy my age, H, was the geek one but at the same time he was the one who took care of his mother, the house, the dog and the car. He was funny, caring and religious. He was Metallica’s biggest fan I’ve ever seen. At that time he was starting to learn guitar. I’ve heard about this band but I wasn’t such a big fan. But later Mettalica was the icon that I measure every band with.

At summer, when there was no electricity, we would sit on the cold ground. H plays guitar and we sing. When we’re not singing we’re sitting in the living room listening to Metallica. Sometimes we would play some games on the pc or with the youngest brother video games.

When my mother took me that day to visit them, we were chatting in the kitchen. H held a lighter in his hand and started to put his finger on the small flame, back and forth. He asked me if I’ve tried this before and I, who was afraid of fire, bragged and said yes. He handed me the lighter and I lit up the lighter with one hand and made my finger swing on the flame with the other. While I was doing so, I didn’t feel any fire but the metal edge was getting warmer and warmer. He started by saying:

“It’s amazing how this small flame have this cruel burning fire. It always makes me wonder how hell looks like.”
At that age, I’ve never really thought of Hell neither of Heaven. I knew the concept and I knew how our religion describe them, but I’ve never meditate on them. My mind escaped the moment and I don’t recall how exactly the conversation went on but I had nothing to answer but slight nods.

“Washing dishes” he continued “made me think of hell a lot. Once I used the hot water along and it burned my skin for a while and that what made me think seriously of hell. If boiling water had this effect then what about Hell?”

On that day, when I went home I started prying and I haven’t stopped praying daily since then. That year I also started reciting Qura’an during Ramadhan.

I’m no longer in touch with H, our mothers still and they exchange e-mails, phone calls and SMSs. The other day I was replying on behalf of my mother and the women told me H was doing his master degree.

Since then H has became sort of a spiritual friend of mine. Even though we’re not in touch each year on this day I include him in my prayers because he was the one who encouraged me to be a better Muslim and eventually a better person without even knowing it. Without telling me what to do or what not to do, he didn’t even ask me to pray. I wish Muslims can be like that without forcing anyone to believe in Islam but by being the good Muslim to be a good role model. I believe H made himself an example I could follow. I can sing, I can be funny, friendly, geek, smart, Metallica fan, and a good Muslim.


Happy New Hijri Year Everyone
May God bless you all

I heard form a mutual friend that H was the best guitarist in Iraq and that he’s writing his own music and he gave me two tracks composed and performed by H

Ear Story!

Warning: silly, boring, personal anecdote.

Just few minutes ago something freakishly funny happened to me. I was sitting in the living room trying to cheer up myself by watching “so you thing you can dance” the rerun of the first season. I was just sitting on the couch indifferently, rubbing my soured ear, when something weird shocked me.

Years back, when I was just about 9 I think, I had my ear pierced. The left ear had always given me sufferance because it was the first to be pierced and I was really scared. Therefore the hole was a bit aslope. Ever since, I had sensitive ears that I had to wear real gold or silver earrings.

Years passed and I was tempted by fashion and I got myself many earrings which were neither gold nor silver. It wasn’t a problem as I used to wear them for couple of hours and that was it.

Last week my right ear was souring. It’s because of the new earrings I got for Eid, which I wore most of the times. But still I would wear them anywhere. Anyway, Today I woke up early, went out for some paperwork, got back home, did my chores, and started studying which didn’t last long. My parents got home, we had dinner and there I was lazily in front of the TV when I remembered that I still have my earrings on. I took them off and started rubbing my ears. I didn’t want to leave my earrings on the coffee table because I knew I would forget them SO I decided to wear them on again. I watched the X-files, Mom’s favorite show, and then F.R.I.E.N.D.S, my favorite show. Then “So you think you can dance” started and the pain was back. I took the earrings of and there was something wrong with my right ear. There was a one single hair that when I pull it made my ear aches. That’s when I asked my mother’s help to check it for me. That one single hair came out of my ear-pierce! The only idea I have is that when I wore the earring on again it must have stuck on it and got into the hole.

With the help of my parents; dad holding the megascopic, and mom pulling the hair, the operation was thankfully successful.

There you go lazy people. I believe this is a sign :P

Cheers