In your quiet moments, have you stopped to think how much God may think about you? The way to answer this question is by knowing that God, the Almighty, thinks of us as often/much as we think about Him.

In another meaning, we are reminded by God; when we think about Him by ourself, He remembers us by Himself, if we remember Him in a group, then He remembers us in a group better than ours.

In your day, when you get caught up in your activities and you're rushing to get the next thing done, trying to pay your bills; are you remembering God? Think about how much work we do in order to buy our houses, or cars, if we want to go on vacation, if we want to go and study at a university or college; the effort and time we spend to making sure we do our "homework".

In these ways, we are constantly occupying ourselves. We take on this work because we want to be well-prepared. But what about the time we invest in our relationship with God?

When we work to place God first and foremost in what we do it helps us ensure that we keep trying to do what's right, that we maintain justice, and that we do not mistreat people. It helps us better reflect on our own behavior and practices and to better accept feedback from others. This is because it is not about "always being right"; instead it is about doing what is best and about growing relation with our Creator.

So if someone corrects me and I know that this will help improve my character or my relationship with God, I accept it- not walk off being upset, not hurting others, not being rude or disrespectful because I didn't get what I wanted. It also helps us be able to compromise with others, because if we want God to accept our attempts, to forgive our mistakes then we need to show that to the people around us.

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One of the things we need to ask ourselves: what are some of the things that I can do in order to improve my relationship with God?  It may lead us to move away from thinking about people and what they want and to focus on our relationship with God.

This way whether people like us or not, whether they think that you are too "holy" or not or too much of something or not - it won't matter.

I may listen and reflect on feedback, but I remember I am a human being with many faults who is trying to improve.

I also know that I want to be a better person, I want to have a good relationship with God, and so I am going to keep on trying. I am going to not listen to those who try to pull me down, instead, I will let the mercy of God pull me up- to be all that I can be.

The way that we remember God is in our prayer, in our actions; when we are just, kind to others, helping those in need.  

Those are ways we can remember God and they will help us be the most conscious of God and ultimately function at our highest potential.

Editor's note: In this collective folder, Culture & Entertainment presents experiences of Muslims  who were blessed to visit the holy city of Makkah to perform their Umrah and  Hajj.

Read about how they sensed the journey; their feelings, spiritual thoughts, and visions.

• I Wish To Pray On Your Praying Carpet!

I wanted to call this article “I wish to pray in your shoes”. But we take off our shoes while praying, so I called it “I wish to pray on your praying carpet” to be more Muslim-friendly. Read more

• When I Took My Way to Makkah

The van took off and I started to miss my beloved Madinah. About 20 kilometers later, we stopped at “Abyar Ali” for ihram. And this part is actually why my family chose our umrah program to start by Madinah; in order to follow the Prophet’s sunnah of ihram from Abyar Ali. Read more.

• The Splendid Journey: To Makkah

Very recently I traveled to Saudi Arabia for umrah and for ten whole days and nights; I was able to savor the sheer brilliance of Makkah as well as the magnificence that the golden city of Madinah has to offer. Read more

• When I Went to Makkah (Experience of a Muslim Woman)

It is the House of Allah; open at all times, spacious, luminous, and, most importantly, excruciatingly comforting. How generous it is to be called upon by the Creator and invited to His magnanimous space all the time ... Read more.

• The African Walk to Makkah

Imbedded in history are the legendry pilgrimages of West African Muslim rulers such as Mansa Musa, the sultan of Mali, and the pilgrimage of Askia Muhammad... Read more.

• Floating in the Mercy of Allah

In this one airplane were a group of pilgrims travelling to their Allah, wishing to get closer to their Allah… and they were all different faces praying to one Allah. This felt magical. I felt free on that flight… floating in the mercy of Allah. Read more.

• A Lesson of Faith and Enjoyment

It is a whole new world, full of promise, faith and the potential for the kind of happiness found in worshiping Allah, doing things that please him and making the most of our lives. It is wondrous: the life-changing journey to Makkah and Medina. Read more.

• My Trip to Makkah

This year Allah granted me a chance to perform pilgrimage to His holy house in Makkah.  I would like to share my experience with you hoping that it will encourage at least one person to make the intention to perform hajj next year. Read more.

• Touching a Piece of Paradise

I often wondered and dreamed about what I would do if I were to go back to Makkah. What would I ask God for, and more importantly, would God accept my supplications?...Read more.

• The Greatest Show Ever…

Hajj is a commemoration of a life among lives, a family among families, an event among events, and a sacrifice among sacrifices...Read more.

• Lifestyle Not Just A Religion

One day I will have better understanding about the fifth element – pilgrim to Makkah– and will involve it into my life. In my mind going to Mecca has always been the action to be performed later in life. Then again I’ve also been wrong separating my religion to my lifestyle...Read more.

I despise racism. I hate injustice.

I have crossed oceans and travelled miles to come to Canada not because of its weather. The climate of where I come from is ‘paradise on earth.’

I didn’t come here because of Celine Dion or Hockey. Neither did I come to enjoy what Tim Horton’s has to offer even though I have become addicted to its coffee and donuts.

I chose Canada because of one and only one thing: justice.

Human beings long for dignity, respect and to be treated justly.

Sadly, justice is missing in many parts of the world.

While I am pleased to have found the treasure I was looking for and to see this noble principle to well and alive, I am, however, deeply concerned about an ugly trend that is growing in the society.

It is a cancerous trend which pollutes the air of justice and makes life difficult down the road.

This trend deals with how people of the Islamic faith are treated and with how the society is slowly accepting such treatment due to recent terrorist attacks in the United States and around the world.

The situation is deteriorating until the time has come when a young female student would turn to her teachers for help regarding an alleged sexual assault case and the school authorities would simply ignore her.

I am concerned – and rightly so – about the momentum this unhealthy phenomenal is getting.

When a crime is committed by a Muslim, the entire community is dragged into the witness box and is forced to apologize for it.

Community leaders are demanded to issue public statements to denounce the criminal act but their statements are never considered strong and loud enough.

When Robert Pickton, a serial killer from British Columbia who was convicted of murdering six women and was charged for the death of twenty others would clearly state that he committed his acts out of religious conviction, the media never demanded a religious decree from the Church to denounce such heinous crimes.

As a matter of fact, this connection was never even mentioned by the majority of the media outlets.

As stated in the Vancouver Sun, Dec. 10, 2007, Mr. Pickton wrote a letter saying:

“I know I was brought into this world to be hear today to change this world of there evil ways. They even want to dis-re-guard the ten commandments from the time that Moses in his day brought in power which still is in existence today.” 

Also when other fanatics like Andre Breivik would massacre 77 people; when Timothy McVeigh would murder 168 people, no connection was made to the faith of the perpetrators.

The Shafia trial in Canada had flashed out another wave of anti-Muslim sentiment.

Even journalists who were supposed to stay neutral when covering the news were carried away with emotion and took the matter personally.

The talk of the day even by the prosecutor during a press conference after the trial started preaching about ‘our values’ all of a sudden.

I chose Canada because of one and only one thing: justice.

Still…

Canada is certainly far better country when it comes to justice and respect of human rights.

People of immense diversity live together in harmony.

Aside from the immeasurable progress the country has achieved in human rights, the other side of the coin must not be neglected – which represents the ugly side that is gaining strength and popularity.

Anti-Muslim bigotry certainly exist and is growing in an alarming rate.

Hate against other people is not tolerated but when it is about Muslims, it is entertained under the banner of freedom of expression.

Bullies have gone as far as to try to influence high school officials in Toronto to deny its Muslim students from using the cafeteria for their Friday sermons.

Even the Canadian government had stepped into the anti Muslim bashing by introducing anti-niqab legislation during citizenship ceremony.

I am a proud Canadian and also proud Muslim. My faith does not contradict with the universal human values that are shared by all humanity. Neither does it collide with the values and principles of the Canadian justice system.

Muslims are part of the society and they are here to stay.

Every race and every community is filled with mad men who go wild some times out of their crooked beliefs and corrupt mindset.

Muslims are outstanding members of their societies which include doctors whom you trust your life to. They also include legends like Mohamed Ali, remarkable politicians like the mayor of Calgary Mr. Naheed Nenshi.

South Africa is a country that is much more than the perceptions people have. It is a country brimming with potential and tremendous vibrancy. It is a pulsating country and a kaleidoscope of cultures, languages, religions and traditions.

The apartheid regime classified South Africans into four racial groups: Black, White, Indian and Colored. But classification of racial groups reduces the dynamism of the different cultures in South Africa.

South Africa, like many other countries in the world endured the barbarity of colonialism, and later institutional Apartheid. Today it is a multi-racial, multi-ethnic diversity, still trying to grapple with different groups getting to know each other and learning about the other.

On some levels this has been successful. However, recently South Africa experienced the worst form of violence since democracy against the "other" when people from poor informal settlements (shanty towns) started to attack foreigners. The incident was termed "xenophobia", but this only diminishes the real reasons behind the attacks. These horrific attacks were a result of intense frustration of people living in abject poverty in a country that has so much of wealth.

This problem will not be resolved overnight, but South Africans must rise above this and rediscover the beauty of living and sharing among different peoples who share common goals.

Classifying South Africans into four racial groups conceals the multitude of cultures and traditions that people have. We are so many micro-cultures living within a macro-culture where we all identify ourselves as South African.

Within the White communities there are the English, Afrikaners, Portuguese, Greek, Italian, French, Spanish and German.  People of mixed race were classified as Colored.  Although most of the Coloreds are concentrated in the Western Cape, the community is spread out across South Africa.

Fordsburg-Indian heritage area in Johannesburg.

South Africa is also home to a considerably large Indian community. The first Indians to arrive in South Africa were indentured laborers in 1860. Later, Indian merchants seeking better prospects boarded ship and sailed to South Africa.

Having established businesses in areas that were designated to Indians, businessmen thrived. An entrenched heritage, the Indian community is still known for their entrepreneurial mastery, although the later generations have embraced professional fields.

South African Indians are culturally and linguistically diverse. Languages spoken are Hindi, Urdu, Tamil, Telegu, Kocney and Gujerati. However, the younger generation communicate in English and very few are actually fluent in their respective languages.

The aboriginal people of South Africa constitute nine groups: Zulu, Xhosa, Ndebele, Sotho, Northern Sotho, Swati, Tsonga, Tswana, and Venda.

The indigenous people have a rich and colorful history, and culture and tradition play an important role in people’s lives. The San and Khoikhoi people have been in Southern Africa for thousands of years and are the truly indigenous people of South Africa. Much later, in the 17th century the first Europeans settled in South Africa, bringing with them slaves from the East Indies – a community known today as the Cape Malays.

In spite of Apartheid and the current challenges faced by South Africans religious practice has always thrived and never hindered.

Most South Africans are Christian, followed by Islam, Hinduism and Judaism. There are a small number of Sikhs and Buddhists, and African traditional religion continues to thrive.

South Africans have the freedom to practice their religion, and to have their respective houses of worship. Freedom of religion is entrenched in the constitution. Unlike in many parts of Europe (and other parts of the world) Muslim women are not harassed for wearing the hijab (veil).

The first mosque in South Africa was built in Cape Town in 1794 and is known as “Awal Masjid”. When Muslim Indian arrived, they established the “Jumu’a Masjid” in Durban, the largest mosque in the Southern Hemisphere.  

Religious holidays are acknowledged and school children are allowed the day off to celebrate their religious festival.

View from Durban.

The most popular and played sports are Soccer, Rugby and Cricket.

South Africans can be quite obsessed when matches are played and sport has been a strong unifying factor in the country, particularly when the South African rugby team won the World Cup in 1995 and 2007.

The beauty of South Africa is not only its diverseness of cultures, languages, traditions and religions, but also stunning wildlife and nature.

It is a country with unique cuisine, art and music. It is a country with challenges and hopes; a people who dare to succeed. 

I have missed you so much, felt totally lost without your ‘safe refuge’.

Trust me, I have been wanting to write for so long but events just took over and I found myself unable to just unwind and tell you things again.

I feel different, like another person has taken over my body, and mind; leaving me confused and lost.  How can outside forces affect us so much? Control our behavior, actions and thought processes? Do you think it is an indication of weakness?

It is weird I ended my last ‘talk’ with you asking a million questions and here I am again beginning with more.

I wonder if that is a sign of intelligence, don’t mock, I have heard people say that if you are inquisitive then ultimately your hunger for more knowledge is interpreted as being clever, but don’t you think it could also be regarded as naivety?

If I am honest I would say I am probably the latter, being protected for so long from the ‘outside world’ has contributed to this great gap of knowledge that can only be gained through daily interaction with people.

But you know something, Dunia, I am grateful for that ‘protection’ although it is a limiting form of action but from what I have seen of the world so far, I am glad I was spared all that pain as a child.

I grew up in a happy environment and spent my childhood as any other child; playing, laughing and getting up to mischief without realizing that knowledge brings a lot of pain.

Agony and Happiness, Alike!

So I should really update you on what has been keeping me away; so many events and all are of mixed nature, let me begin with the biggest news, my sister is expecting a baby!

Very exciting I know, a new human being is going to join our world, a brand new soul will form an important part of my family but like most things that come into my life there is always a ‘but…’

I am serious, Dunia, nothing comes without its complication or a sense of sadness, maybe it is the same for everyone but I feel it more than most.

I was overjoyed; I can’t wait to have a little baby around. I will teach him/her everything that I know, and give it all that I have of energy, time and care. I decided I wanted a niece. Girls are much more fun than boys, although I would love them regardless, but I can relate more to a girl, I think.

Boys are more active and harder to persuade to sit and play games that don’t require physical strength; I just want to be the best aunt possible.

Ironically I seem to be harming the baby before it is even born; you see the happiness and euphoria I felt at my sister’s announcement turned into agony and deep unexplained guilt a few days later. When the doctor found out that I was born with major physical/health problem, he got concerned about the baby and requested a scan.

I kept praying it would be safe and healthy, I saw people talking about the situation and I couldn’t participate with my opinion, no one would listen. I felt as though I was to blame.

The happiness that every pregnant woman should feel had been snatched from my sister and I couldn’t help but feel I am to blame, my genes are threatening a tiny baby that had no choice in the matter.

Part of me thought: how can I give my view on what the best solution would be? I know doctors are giving the option of abortion but how can I agree on such matters? I can’t be a hypocrite, I would not have wanted my mother to abort me, my life is relatively happy and I would not want to change it, honestly Dunia this is the truth.

I may complain and moan about my life but my dissatisfaction is with the world, people’s attitude and behaviour and rarely if ever it is with the disability, I never wanted to walk, or be like my siblings, because how can I miss or long for something I have never tried?

Back to my sister; at the same instant I can’t say keep the baby regardless of the scan’s outcome, it is not my decision and I wish to God that my sister stops asking me. I don’t like that responsibility, what I want for myself may not be suitable for others, and there is no wrong or right, therefore I would never judge my sister’s final decision or criticize it.

We have to wait for the scan and other results, not sure what, I kind of switch off my mind when they talk about the matter, I just want to escape all of this the guilt, the dilemma and everything that comes with it.

I am not sure if I am ready for that ‘price’ and am I pursuing happiness or hurt?

If We Just Open Our Eyes

You know Dunia, God is very generous; we just get lost in our problems or temptation and lose sight of this generosity.

Just as I kept praying for a miracle that would transfer me from what is happening, I got an email from my friend’s sister telling me about a job opportunity. It is part-time and will not be too strenuous or affect my studies, so immediately I set about applying for the post.

You’d think I was making this up but as I was researching how to write an application I found another job vacancy, which was even better than the first. It is translation work at a publishing house, so basically I will be translating novels from one language to another.

Ahh! Dunia, I am so relieved finally something that is personal and belongs to me, I did not tell my family though, it just seems insignificant and inappropriate to mention it now plus Mama will start to worry and will do the usual ‘Why?

You will get tired…what about your studies?’ I may not even get the job so I think it is best to wait, no point in causing all sorts of commotion for nothing. Just have to wait…

Do you remember the guy I saw at the concert who I thought was a bodyguard then assumed he was blind…you must remember him! Well there was a group email that was sent with photos from the concert and everyone had replied with comments, the email had a photo of him, plus I found out his name and email address.

No don’t be silly of course I won’t contact him, I mean what would I say? And he won’t know who I am or remember me I am sure… Do you think I should? I kind of want to just apologize for accidently throwing the strawberry at him….but no I can’t, right?

I will look silly and come across as weird….yet I really want to know him, don’t ask me why, because I don’t have the answer all that I know is there is something inside me that is pushing me towards him… I am just intrigued by his appearance, manner, the mystery that surrounds him, we often meet or come across characters that fascinate us and want to learn more about them.

In this world there are two types of people; ones that think about every move they take, let their mind control their actions and overrides their heart and emotion, these people are protected from hurt, pain and disappointment that their desires could lead them to.

And there are people who are guided by their emotion, they are liberated from the mind’s calculation and follow what they want without thinking about the consequences as they get to experience ‘happiness’ even if it short lived and regardless of the heavy price that they will pay eventually.

Happiness is not a decision or choice made by the mind, nor must it be planned, it is a natural occurrence and you must be able to afford its risk and learn from its result, as no happiness comes without a price.

I am not sure if I am ready for that ‘price’ and am I pursuing happiness or hurt?

Should I press that ‘send’ button and enter a world of the unknown or stick to what I know best, a simple life that has no sense of real purpose? What shall I do, Dunia? Wait for fate to guide me?

Listen to my mind or follow my intuition? We have to wait or you will have to wait as my carer is here and I better go to bed, the only place I can escape my physical surrounding….

Adieu my little world.

Like many I watched in shock as reports flooded in of the bombings at Boston Marathon, held on Patriots Day, the first day of the American Revolutionary War.

Almost instantly, images were beamed around the world, Twitter and Facebook were flooded with messages of sympathy for the victims, speculation on who and why was rife.

Though at time of writing this piece, the hands behind the blasts remain unknown, President Obama rightfully referred to these as “senseless killings.”

But on the other side of the world, in a report by the UK's Daily Mail, we read that “at least 30 members of an Afghan wedding party were killed and many more injured when a US plane (accidentally) bombed a village in the central province of Uruzgan.”

In his first statement on the Boston explosions, President Obama said, “We don’t yet have all the answers” and that he has spoken with the FBI and Homeland Security and “they’re mobilizing the appropriate resources to investigate and respond.”

Yet back at the village in Afghanistan, one resident said, “There was no-one to help last night.”

Elsewhere, the Guardian newspaper writes, “Syrian crisis: Damascus adjusts to the constant sound of war: Two years into crisis, bombs, rockets and planes have become the new normal for Damascenes.”

And they also write, “Iraq hit by  wave of attacks: Car bombs and shootings kill 27 people and wound over 100 in Baghdad, Fallujah, Kirkuk and towns south of the capital.” (3)

Human life is a blessing so many of us take for granted, which for those of us outside of troubled war zones, comes bundled with safety and security.

The murder of a person in one country does not make it any less painful than the murder of a person in another country. Yet there is a disturbing apathy to the way we, in the civilized world, respond to such murders.

This was no better highlighted by a Tweet sent by @TasminLucia: “This looked like a scene from Tel-Aviv, or Pakistan, or Baghdad, not Boston” to which the almost instant response from @smnb read, “So it’s acceptable in Palestine, Tel-Aviv and Baghdad?”

For those of us who cannot physically help, our condolences to those who have lost loved ones or have been injured in the Boston bombings.

Our Lives Are Precious

As humanity we suffer from a troubling misrepresentation of the value of human life. In some parts of the world we respond the correct way.

As President Obama, the FBI and Homeland security, no doubt will do by pursuing every lead in an effort to identify who is responsible for the Boston bombings and to bring them to account, through the due process of law.

We have structure, we have function and as citizens of humanity, we seek accountability for such murders.

Yet in other parts of the world, our response is muted.

God Almighty says in the Qur’an, “Do not allow your dislike of a people, lead you to be unjust towards them. Be just, that is closer to piety.”

My own memory of Boston includes two distinct activities, a visit to the Bull and Finch Pub, made famous the world-over by the TV series, Cheers, and a meeting with a charity whose mandate was to establish programs to liberate slaves.

Both memories are good memories, and so by association, I feel for Bostonians.

For those of us who cannot physically help, our condolences to those who have lost loved ones or have been injured in the Boston bombings.

But let us not be complacent, so also say a prayer for those who suffer from bombings elsewhere in this world: all human life is precious.

The sooner we realize this and adopt policies and strategies to reflect this, the sooner the world will be a better place.

Some Muslims had lost a sense of direction altogether and had failed to live up to the values and principles which are the cornerstones of the model that Prophet Muhammad installed.

They started polluting the model with their ignorance until people were not able to see its radiance or smell its fragrance.

They have become obsessed with trivial issues such as the length of beard in men, the wearing of niqab, shortness of trousers for men. They started using these minor issues which are not agreed upon by the consensus of Muslim jurisprudences as criteria to judge between who is pious Muslim and who is bound to hell.

These simple minded people have become like a man who is overly obsessed by the look of his vehicle and has neglected other important components   of the car such as the engine, breaks, steering wheel and the condition of the tires which when neglected could be a matter of life and death.

What Kind of Image!

The same people who were models for humanity and who were sailing the ship have been distracted by irrelevant issues and have abandoned their positions, while not paying the attention to the direction the ship is headed at as they started fighting among themselves.

Not only that, they have damaged and ruined the image of their model until a time has come when people started getting nervous every time they hear the word, Islam.

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The image that was so irresistible with its beauty and glory has been turned into an ugly and repulsive picture which people look at with contempt and repulsion.

People started associating the model with ugly things which are inferior to everything it stands for such as terrorism, violence and hatred. All these are complete opposite of what the model stands for.

The alarming thing that deprives me from having peace of mind is the question that keeps haunting me is, would  my forefathers have accepted the faith and found it appealing had the Muslims they had interacted with were nasty human beings?

Had the faith reached to all the corners of the globe had early Muslims been acting with rudeness, lack of consideration as they do now?

It is appalling to see how distanced some Muslims are from the teaching of their faith.

A person does not have to go far to see how big the gap is between the religion itself and its followers. He just needs to visit the Holy Ka`bah in Makkah to witness how inconsiderate, rude some Muslims have become in such a sacred place.

They would not show any consideration towards the young or the old in their manners especially in their attempt to touch or kiss the Blackstone.

They neglect the emphasis of the Prophet that the sacredness of their fellow brethren is more valued than the sacredness of the Ka’bah itself.

Perhaps those Muslims could use every possible chance like  the month of Ramadan to do check and balance, re-evaluate their mission in life and re-examine the reasoning behind their failure to live up to the values of their faith.

They should use the opportunity to find out what went wrong with the image of their faith which was once appealing to humanity.

I know my ‘little Dunia’ is a bit of strange way to address you.

But that is how I think of you sometimes, as a child, a little figure that is gradually growing with experience and knowledge, an innocent little plain document that is filled with my words, thoughts and dreams.

I wonder if that means I am taking away your innocence and purity. I hope not, but it is a complicated fact; you are my world but also you are my baby, does that make sense?

Are you shocked by my sudden good mood? Well it is strange how things seem differently when you allow time to pass then sit and think about them. I realized that I get too stressed and worked up about tiny incidents that in reality I should be familiar with and accustomed to seeing, it is just sometimes hard to think rationally.

When People Greet Me...

I know you have been waiting patiently to find out more about the rest of my night out and the concert, so I will carry on and update you as I was not able to do so for the past few days, I had really bad back pain and all my body was aching.

Of course Mama blamed the outing as it was cold, and too much of a long night and apparently ‘my health can’t take such nights’. In actual fact I get this pain often but I did not want to get into a debate with Mama so I just let her think what she likes; I had more interesting things to think about.

Back to the concert night, I can sense you are very eager to find out what happened. That night I was quite excited because I have only been to three concerts before and all of them I attended with family members, so this was the nearest thing that I got to being independent and free. It is a very liberating feeling.

That may sound slightly mean but sometimes it is nice to have your own thing away from family, that is why I like you so much, because you are excluded from everyone and everything that is in my ‘real’ world.

There were a few awkward incidents but somehow none of them bothered me, in fact they seemed quite funny at the time. Like when we first went inside the concert hall there were many tourists and for some peculiar reason they found me ‘interesting’ to look at but they were smiley, friendly, 'inquisitive' stares.

One of them just made me burst into a laugh as he was standing 4 feet away but kept waving his hand in an erratic manner to make sure I got the idea that he is saying "Hello!"

It was hilarious Dunia, you won’t find it funny I know, but you would if you’d been there, because he had his big camera which he had dropped when he spotted me, allowing it to hang round his neck.  He was just so excited to ensure that I ‘grasped’ his greeting, you know like you would do to a child ….. hahahahahahahaha just thinking back to the image of it now sends me off into fit of laughter.

There are times when people assume that I am intellectually slow or have learning difficulties but it does not bother me. I find their ignorance and assumptions about me or even about others quite funny especially when they start acting silly. 

Like this guy who thought I would not understand what a simple ‘hello’ is and needed it a physical act for it to reach my brain. Yet, honestly Dunia he did not mean it in a harmful way, he was quite sweet and that is why I responded to him in the way he expected me to, I just did not want to embarrass him.

I bet you want to ask me how I know his intentions, well it is hard to describe, but if you come out with me one day and experience the reactions I get from people you will understand.

Each look, comment, remark has a different element and impact and that largely reflects the attitude of people and how I get to know their intentions. Consequently my reaction depends on the intention of each individual as well as the mood I am in and on that particular night I was in a great mood and nothing was going to spoil it…well almost.

Once we went inside to our booked area we saw all the other friends that were awaiting our arrival (we were slightly late as it took bit of time to hail a taxi.)

I knew a few of the people there but not all, which sent me into my shy, reserved self. I can’t help it, Dunia but I always get flustered by crowds of people, maybe it is low confidence or lack of self-belief or could be due to my quiet voice, I don’t really know. I just feel overwhelmed and if I speak my face becomes like a squashed tomato.

A Guy in Sunglasses

My mind was full of guesses but then I immediately felt guilty and was disappointed with myself. I was doing the exact same thing that gets me irritated, staring, judging and making assumptions about a person I know nothing about.

There must have been at least fifteen people there, a mixture of males and females, all seemed quite nice and friendly; they did not make me feel uncomfortable or different, came over, greeted me and introduced themselves all except one guy who caught my attention well before they all came to me.

As we initially entered the concert hall, I noticed this guy who was wearing a suit and sunglasses, and had a major sombre face, as though he was being forced to do something.

I kept looking at him for few seconds, wondering does he have a problem with his sight? Or is he a bodyguard for someone famous who is attending the concert? Or could he be an actual celebrity that wanted to hide his identity?

My mind was full of guesses but then I immediately felt guilty and was disappointed with myself. I was doing the exact same thing that gets me irritated, staring, judging and making assumptions about a person I know nothing about.

See Dunia, I told you I am just a human, who commits the same mistakes as others and not a perfect figure.

I quickly reprimanded myself and distracted my thoughts away from ‘the bodyguard’ figure, yes that is what I decided to call him as I don’t know how else to address him. But he appeared before me again as he was seated with our group, so now I knew he was not a bodyguard or a celebrity, yet he did not come over like all the rest, in fact he was disinterested in everything around him and looked unimpressed by his surroundings.

I tried to ignore him but was intrigued to know why he is with our group. The singer had started his song and the music was loud so I poked my friend to get her attention then asked her ‘is this blind guy your friend?’, she looked confused and told me she didn’t know him, but he is a friend of a friend that has come over for few days and could not be left alone as he was in a foreign country and does not know many people.

Then the music got louder so our conversation had to stop. I was more convinced that he must be blind and was in total awe as I thought, wow despite his perception difficulties he travelled overseas and there is me, so pathetic…

Why do I compare myself to others, Dunia? When I know for a fact we are all born as individuals with different strengths.

I Am Cinderella

The singer was performing all my favourite songs and I was totally engrossed in the concert, loved every music beat and forget everything related to me including the time that I was supposed to be back home for my carer’s arrival.  Or probably I did not forget, I just wanted the night to last forever.

During the interval everyone said ‘let us blow the candles’ just then Mama called me to check if I was alright and remind me that soon the carer will arrive so I should start making my way home, so not to delay my friend and allow for taxi time. But I did not want to leave, why do happy times pass so quickly!

Why can’t I stay like all the rest, but I shouldn’t be greedy and thank God that I was able to enjoy this much of the night, so I had to be grateful and head home.

I just could not help but think of Cinderella, she too had to run home just as she was beginning to enjoy herself. I told my friend we needed to go, so she can make it back for the rest of the concert, she insisted we have the cake first and not worry about her missing anything.

The cake itself was another funny incident, it was strawberry cake, my least favorite but I had to eat it as it was my friend’s birthday, as I was trying to push the strawberry away from my little piece, which was on a plate my friend was holding (too heavy for me to carry and there was no table to rest it on) I dropped the piece of cake on her skirt and the strawberry kind of flew to ‘the blind’ guy’s foot.

I felt so bad and embarrassed, wanted to hide away, my friend was laughing and I did not worry about her skirt so much but at the poor guy’s shoe that had turned into semi-reddish colour. Yet he was oblivious to the whole incident.

I said to my friend ‘oh no the poor blind guy’, she looked puzzled then told me, “why do you keep saying blind when he is not!” I was astounded. I realized then that he was wearing sunglasses for reasons beyond my understanding and I also knew that I won’t get the chance to find out why as we had to rush out and grab a taxi home before the carer comes and I am not there.

Speaking of carer, she just arrived now and was waiting for me, so I had to rush off as it is rude to keep her waiting…but you my Little Dunia can wait….hahaha. I love being mean to you.

Oh before I bid you good night, I want to ask you, why is the ‘guy’ troubling my mind? Why does he keep coming into my thoughts, why do I feel irritated by his sunglasses? Do you think I will ever know his story? I realize it’s highly unlikely that I will ever see him again, in fact, I won’t see any of the ‘concert’ people again except for my friend, and so I should just block them all out of my mind and hold on to the memory of that one unique night.

I really have to go now my carer’s face tells me I am pushing my luck…Nightyyyy!

Yes, I'm sorry. I'm not in an affectionate mood today- a mixture of anger and frustration has zapped all the nice emotions out of me. But I know you will understand and, in reality, there is no need for explanations or apologies… right?

You are my soul-mate after all, so you will get my points no matter how complex they may seem. Where do I start? Well, after a week of persuasion from my siblings, Mama agreed to ‘allow’ me to go out to the birthday dinner and concert.

Of course it helped that the friend who was accompanying me does not have a disability of any kind, so that Mama will feel I am in safe hands. Plus this friend is very well liked by all members of my family which is an added bonus.

Mama had put so many scenarios that the night is paved with obstacles. She is right of course; most outings are full of hassles.

However, this time, I don’t know why I had an intuition that this outing will have an important impact on me. Or it could be that I possibly felt I have to prove to Mama I can manage alone. Or, quite simply, I just wanted to be part of something to belong to a group or an event.

Are you bored of my mood? Sorry. I will try to snap out of it, although it’s a bit hard. You are right, though; I should change things rather than complain and let it get to me. To be fair, that is what I am trying to do.

When the actual day arrived, I was nervous slightly. I know. Silly of me, right? At my age, getting nervous at going out to dinner with friends- a sign of immaturity or naivety, do you think?

Ready to Go Out...

Anyhow, I arranged with my carers to come at a certain time so that I can make it early to the restaurant with my friend. One carer could not, so I had to call another one and attempt to be extra nice to convince her to be punctual. I semi-succeeded as she agreed to come and get me ready at the specified time.

Naturally, there was a little glitch. She would not be able to come late at night, which I suppose is fair, as she has would have to travel and wake up early the next day. That meant I couldn’t stay for the full concert and would have to leave early. I felt bad telling my friend. Instead, I offered to just go for dinner.

Nevertheless, she insisted on me going and was happy to drop me back home during the interval break so that she wouldn’t miss much. I did not really feel comfortable. In fact, I felt guilty. But, at the same time, I really wanted to go.

Dunia, do you think that is selfish of me?

When the actual day arrived, I was nervous slightly. I know. Silly of me, right? At my age, getting nervous at going out to dinner with friends- a sign of immaturity or naivety, do you think?

In my defence, though, I was just worried that it would not work out, and Mama would say ‘I told you so’; or that things would not go according to plan, and I will end up messing the night for my friends.

Seeing as that I can’t handle the guilt of ruining things for others, I was very apprehensive.  Anyways, the night started going smoothly. My carer came and got me ready, taxi arrived on time and had a working ramp for ‘wheelie’, and the weather was very mild.

Wow. I felt so blessed, lucky and happy. Yet, there was still a little fear that things never go that smoothly,  that it just may be too good to be true. Sometimes I think I am my own worst enemy. This worry, stress and guilt just do not leave me alone, which I think is the cause of many mishaps in my life.

I Have Feelings...

Sorry, Dunia, I am going off into major self-analysing rants and transgressing away from the evening’s details. We arrived at the restaurant. It was a Sushi place, but had other Japanese food. I have to admit, it is not my favourite, but I liked the place; nice and cosy, small with few people, so I didn’t have to shout to be heard or repeat myself.

Although the entrance to the place had a slight kerb, ‘Wheelie’ managed to get up on it with a little help from my friend who tipped it slightly. Okay. Don’t get me wrong. Yes. Sorry. I know you won’t. You are different to everyone else and will understand me, but I still wish there hadn’t been a kerb, and then there would have been less focus on me. Strange, right?

Most girls enjoy attention and crave to be central focus, but not me. I want to be unseen or unnoticed, and just do everything without an audience.

Alright, alright. I shall quit moaning and get back to the dinner date.

I won’t drag it any longer, and I am sure you are not interested in what I had to eat, but I assure you it was not Sushi. Ewww, I hate it. I had fried rice and black cod, my friend’s recommendation. And she cut it all up for me and took the bones out too. Yes, I know. She is very sweet and kind. Ohhh. Guilt appearing again...

I don’t know why, but I feel bad when people are nice to me. Don’t flatter yourself, Dunia. That does not apply to you, because you are different. You are mine, so you have to be nice to me. Oh, and before I move on, I have to mention one last thing that really annoyed me at the restaurant. When we were about to order the food, the silly waitress asks my friend ‘what is she having,’ looking at me but addressing my friend!

I am used to such insensitive, ignorant people, but it still irritates me as to why people assume, just because I use a wheelchair or have visible disability, that it automatically means I can’t speak for myself or that somehow my identity has been lost.

Aghhhh! It's so annoying!

I wanted to switch ‘wheelie’ on and run the waitress’ feet over. That would have made her notice my presence. Yes, Dunia, contrary to popular belief, having a disability does not make you an angelic figure or super human. Nope, I am just an average person with good and bad sides. I get angry like others, tempted by things, and experience every possible emotion that everyone goes through.

I am not perfect, so please don’t assume that I am or have a romanticised view of me. I am like many.

Although quite patient and tolerant, but my mood and anger does take over at times. No, Dunia, don’t get over excited. Of course I did not run the waitress over. How could I do that? I just meant that I wanted to do that, but I am not a thug. Plus I told you I don’t like attention.

I have to say, Dunia, you are quite naive taking everything I say as a fact. Awww… but it is sweet too. I guess that is why we are special friends, because I am a bit similar to you in that sense-I tend to not doubt people’s words.

My Cinderella’s Dilemma

Oops. Sorry. I did it yet again. I went off into a tangent. I promise no more. I am totally focused now. After dinner, we had to rush to the concert. Subsequently, three taxis just ignored us and drove past, possibly did not want to trouble themselves with getting the ramp out. And it was just starting to rain, so there is no chance they will stop.

Then finally we managed to hail one. A nice friendly taxi driver who did not mind the rain or the chore of getting the ramp out took us to the concert. Finally we were there, in the most beautiful classically built halls, which had full wheelchair access and friendly staff that took us where the rest of our group were waiting with the birthday cake.

Yes, I know. Things do go smoothly at times, and in this particular occasion, it was just too smooth. You will understand what I mean when I tell you the rest of the evening’s events. It gets complicated, you will find out.

But can I just tell you that, for the first time in my life, I completely understand Cinderella’s dilemma and realize that fairy tales do have a sense of reality too. You don’t get it, I know.

I shall explain, but not now. Mama is calling me to get ready for dinner, and, honestly, my hand is dropping off from typing.

Don’t get disappointed. The wait will only make you appreciate the next ‘diary entry’ more, and I will give you a little hint to ease the wait; that night I learnt that a simple outing can change the way that you view the world.

Dear Diary,

Oh… nope… this won’t do. Let me start again.

Dear… hmmm… who? I always used to read novels in which the protagonist would keep a diary and would address it as such ‘Dear Diary'.

But that to me seems so impersonal and cold, a bit like our society, which I want to escape through this venture of personal writing.

I have never thought about keeping a diary or even writing my private thoughts for a few reasons; if you write something it becomes more real, and I have always tried to retreat into my imaginary world which offered me protection and hope. Plus, I often think, ‘What would I write?’  My life lacks the excitement I read about in books; it is rather simple and routine-based. So what would I write?

The most important thing for me is my physical ability (not great).  I rely on my mother, family, helpers and carers to bring things to me and store them back on shelves, drawers, cupboards, etc…  So how can I trust anyone with my diary that has deep thoughts and emotions that I want to keep to myself?

Human curiosity can't be contained no matter how good and honest the person; isn’t it natural to be intrigued by very personal writing, especially if it is written by someone you have come to consider to be your 'private property'!

But suddenly, I realized why I am obsessed with how things are supposed to be done; yes, stories (and maybe history?) give us a very romanticised idea of diaries. But mine should be real and reflective of me.

The laptop diary! That is the perfect solution, word document rather than pretty little rectangular shape book with lock on the side, instead of the cute key lock I will have a password that no one will know. Yes, it is different but that is me, I always have to find alternative ways to experience what many others take for granted.

My Soul Mates... My Wheelchair

Ah, I forgot to mention that I was born with physical disability. I mentioned it in passing before without divulging into details, but is it such an important piece of information? Does it make a difference and should you, my 'diary', know that? Maybe not, as I have only just 'met' you.

Aghh!!!  I still haven't figured out a name for you, I don't feel comfortable with 'Diary' – it’s like seeing a person and referring to it as human all the time without personification.

You will be my soul mate, so let me introduce my other soul mates alongside you: well there is Wheelie, my electric wheelchair. She is very kind and quite a free soul; then there is also Nippy, my ventilator - she is super special. I always feel safe when she is around and gives me real feelings of strength and protection. She is like the cuddly toy people take to bed with them.

Nippy, I use at night as soon as I am in bed until I get up in the morning. It helps me breathe as my lung muscles are super forgetful (not to mention lazy), so when I sleep or if I exert energy they get tired and almost go on strike, but then Nippy comes and pumps air into them and makes them work.

Let me think - who else must you know about? Laptop, iPod and mobile phone are my best friends too, and then we have little collection of cuddly dolls/figures. So now you have met my worldly goods we can...

Dunia Is the Name of My Diary

WAIT! I have found the perfect name for you. 'Dunia'! 'Dear Dunia' sounds so perfect!  ‘Dunia’ means ‘the world’ in Arabic, Urdu, Farsi and several other languages. So you will become my exclusive world that no one else will enter without my approval, my Dunia.

I guess you are wondering why I seek you, Dunia. To be honest, I’m not quite sure. For over 30 years I have gone with the flow, taken each day as it comes, letting things go to please people and allowing others to control me.

I have never felt I can fully open my heart to anyone, fearing that I would upset them, or knowing that they could not understand me. And I am not sure I trust them enough either. I don’t like being judged or misunderstood; yes, I know, who does? It is just that I get hurt easily and it takes forever to recover, so I’ve chosen to stay quiet and bottle my thoughts and feelings inside.

Now I cannot do it anymore; I want to share my thoughts and explore them, I want to vent my anger and frustration and most importantly I want to escape my reality.

I know you will say, ‘there must be another reason; why now?’ But let us agree on something from the start- I get enough questions from everyone else, so please don’t ask or expect anything; let me be free with my thoughts and words. I shall, just this time, make an exception and answer your questions.

My Anger

I am 32 years old, have been for few months, but it is only today that I have realized that age is just a number – certainly one which is wasted on me. As in the eyes of others I am merely an undeveloped child (untrue, my body does the things female bodies do), a weak soul that needs guidance and protection. Is it because I am a woman in a male dominated world? Or a Muslim in a largely secular country? Or an Arab in a non-Arab country?  Or quite simply because I am person living with disability? I don’t know the answer, although I have tried to figure it out in my head many times.

All I know is that I have a deep feeling of un-belonging.

I remember years ago during my undergraduate seminars at university, I came across a quote from Toni Morrison’s ‘Beloved’ where she says ‘there is no weaker voice than a black illiterate woman.’  Well, I am not sure if I agree with Ms Morrison. Has she ever tried seeing life through the eyes of others? How can she make such a judgement? Reading that made me so irritated that it put me off the book completely.

I am not saying I have it tougher, but being educated does not guarantee you a ‘voice’; it is much more complex than that.

Dunia, I am tired now from typing, so I will bid you adieu. You know, I think we will be the best of soul mates. I have already started to feel at ease with you which is why I have not stopped talking (not at all like me). And you know something?  I’ve  just realized I didn’t tell you the actual reason that made me switch the laptop, open a new word document and create ‘Dunia’.  Well, it’s a long story which I will tell you the next time we meet. I promise.

But, I'll leave you with a quick preview. The gist of it, I got invited to a birthday dinner and concert, which rarely, if ever, happens.  And my mother, who I affectionately call 'Mama', refuses to give me permission to go.

I know, 32 years old and not allowed to go out.  People my age are running offices and homes ….

Oh I’d better switch off! My sister keeps coming near me and trying to read what I am writing…

Adieu, my dear Dunia.