Day 14
Today is a poetic piece in the build up to the birth of Imam Ali (as) which is in a few days. As part of our special assembly at school, I have forced the committee to make sure we have a poetry and art contest this time and the topic/question is,
What does Imam Ali (as) mean to me?
Here's a quick piece I wrote, as I like to ensure I can do any task I set my students to do. Poetry really isn't my thing at all but by all means, Bismillah..
A withered tree in a barren land,
Nothing in sight by sky and sand,
Mariam knocked the tree with her hands,
With dates she fed Isaa, as the Lord has planned.
And in a small basket, Moses was sent,
Across the Nile, travelling every bend,
To the castle of Pharaoh, he sought to end,
Tyranny and injustice and to righteousness defend.
The year of the Elephants saw jealousy and greed,
Abraha's God complex challenged all creeds,
He marched till he was faced with the "Tayr Al Ababeel",
Muhammed was born and mankind was saved indeed.
That same Kaaba which was close to being torn,
Split itself in half when Ali was almost born,
Fatima al Assadi held onto its walls,
In the name of all Prophets and her Lord she called.
So who am I to ask what Imam Ali means to me,
When the miracle of his birth the world can still see,
With tar they cover it, in hopes that we,
Won't see the marks, and know it was Allah's decree,
He commanded the Kaaba to just be,
Breaking its own walls a simple as a twig on a tree,
And from it came our Imam Ali,
So how dare I call myself a Shi'ee,
When the Kaaba itself parted like a Black Sea,
In the honour of your birth, as such again we'll never see.
Tuesday, 28 April 2015
Monday, 27 April 2015
The April 17 Project: Days 12 & 13
Day 12
Oxford.. What a beautiful city it is and when better to visit it than after an extremely terrible conference. The conference supposedly revolved around teaching and all I learnt is how NOT to teach. You should not expect people to sit for three hours straight with no break or refreshments, simply talking AT them and showing PowerPoint after PowerPoint.
That aside, the weather was beautiful as was the company. We strolled through the city and enjoyed some punting, book related sights and almost climbed to the top of a church tower (our excuse was that the queue was too long, of course).
What I realised while being in the city was that I really do miss being a student and I would have loved to have studied there. I guess it's still a possibility but above all else, I can still be a student in my own way, taking no each day as it comes and allowing myself to learn from all the experiences life throws at me, be they good or bad.
Day 13
Why do we live our lives seeking the approval of others? We spend so much time trying to fit in, look good and seem better than we really are. We obsess over what we post on Instgram, limit our Snaps, choose our words wisely when we Tweet.. When did we become so superficial that the filters we use are simply façades of deeper insecurities.
It's time to allow ourselves to just be, without the fear of judgement and the evaluating eyes that look for any reason to see us fall and fail.
The April 17 Project: Days 10 & 11
Day 10
I added a new bracket to the challenge and that is to mention some of the things from your bucket list. They can be things you have ticked off already or wish to carry out in the future. Here are a few of mine, in no particular order:
• Climb a mountain
• Watch a show on Broadway
• Start writing a novel
• Publish my novel
• Be in two places at once
• See the Northern Lights
• Make someone's dream come true
• Sponsor an orphan
• Get a tattoo
• Swim outdoors
• Try the durian fruit
Again, these are just a few and some that I have already managed to achieve! The rest... are still to fall into place at some point inshaAllah.
Day 11
The year 11's have left the school now for their study leave ahead of their upcoming GCSE exams. I'm not quite sure how to feel about this, especially considering the fact that I haven't had much interaction with their year group in general, having only taught a few of them.
All the same, I'm still panicking about how much they've covered and what more they need for revision. I feel compelled to help them in any way that I can because I know I have the ability to do so.
In the leavers assembly, the girls thanked me in person for the TWO lessons I have them as a collective class. Two lessons. I don't even know what I did to deserve their gratitude. As for the two girls I did help throughout the year, it honestly pained me to see them go as I had developed quite a bond with them. They gifted me the most beautiful floral arrangement and I swear to you, above all else, their words and genuine gratitude is something I can't even begin to explain.. It moved me so much that smiling was the only option.
I pray for their success and that they one day come to me with stories of their bright and exciting futures beyond the school walls.
Thursday, 23 April 2015
The April 17 Project: Day 9
Day 9
The classes that are leaving this year have started handing out their leavers books and naturally, since we are a small school, they want all the teachers to participate and write in their books. For those of you that went to mainstream schools, you may not have had the chance to build a connection with your teachers - and thankfully that wasn't the case with me!
Thinking back to my time in secondary school, I really enjoyed a majority of my lessons. All of them actually, except Maths and Science.. and I still hate both subjects to this day. My favourite of all, you've guessed it, were my English lessons. I had the chance of having the same amazing teacher for 4 years and she managed to not only make me enjoy the subject but inspired my to take my appreciation of good literature into something greater.
Ms Haffner was someone who did her job well, but went above and beyond to ensure we both got amazing grades and enjoyed learning at the same time. Shakespeare became enjoyable, as did poetry and I looked forward to her lessons more than any other. She cared for each of us as individuals and when she would tell us about some of her past experiences, she would light up with the happy memories of the students she had taught in the past whose lives she had changed for the better.
Now that the shoe is on the other foot, I realise just how hard it must have been to do it all. You work long hours, forget about a social or family life and at the end, you develop such a strong bond with the same kids who make you want to tear your hair out. And in then end, what makes it all worth it is that lightbulb moment when they understand something, or that eagerly raised hand that's dying to share what they have written, and those two simple words that just make it all okay at the end of a long day - thank you.
To all my teachers and mentors, and especially to you, Ms Haffner, I thank you for helping me and inspiring me to be someone who can change the life of my students, one word at a time.
The classes that are leaving this year have started handing out their leavers books and naturally, since we are a small school, they want all the teachers to participate and write in their books. For those of you that went to mainstream schools, you may not have had the chance to build a connection with your teachers - and thankfully that wasn't the case with me!
Thinking back to my time in secondary school, I really enjoyed a majority of my lessons. All of them actually, except Maths and Science.. and I still hate both subjects to this day. My favourite of all, you've guessed it, were my English lessons. I had the chance of having the same amazing teacher for 4 years and she managed to not only make me enjoy the subject but inspired my to take my appreciation of good literature into something greater.
Ms Haffner was someone who did her job well, but went above and beyond to ensure we both got amazing grades and enjoyed learning at the same time. Shakespeare became enjoyable, as did poetry and I looked forward to her lessons more than any other. She cared for each of us as individuals and when she would tell us about some of her past experiences, she would light up with the happy memories of the students she had taught in the past whose lives she had changed for the better.
Now that the shoe is on the other foot, I realise just how hard it must have been to do it all. You work long hours, forget about a social or family life and at the end, you develop such a strong bond with the same kids who make you want to tear your hair out. And in then end, what makes it all worth it is that lightbulb moment when they understand something, or that eagerly raised hand that's dying to share what they have written, and those two simple words that just make it all okay at the end of a long day - thank you.
To all my teachers and mentors, and especially to you, Ms Haffner, I thank you for helping me and inspiring me to be someone who can change the life of my students, one word at a time.
The April 17 Project: Day 8
I'm currently working on a module called "Scene of the Crime" with my Year 8's and they seem to be enjoying it. The resources I'm using are lacking a few things that I think would enhance the learning so I'm building up some of my own to boost it further. Since the crime scene we were studying and writing about had no conclusion, I decided to write my own interpretation of the story, in the voice of the dead character who is writing beyond the grave... This is it!
*
I’m not quite sure where I am right now but all I know is that it is really dark in here. My father always used to tell me as a child that a man should never be afraid of the dark but I’m a grown man who knows that it’s alright to be scared of a dark place, especially when it’s closing in on you and you feel like you can’t breathe. Maybe I really can’t breathe? I try to remember where I was the last time I could remember. I calm myself and close my eyes. I start counting backwards from 15. It’s always been my lucky number.
15.
I’d just changed into my striped cotton pyjamas, the same kind I'd been wearing for the past 30 years or so. I had recently come across a place that sold the same pyjamas that my mother used to buy for me, but for adults. Every time I wear them, I remember the sweet moments of peaceful rest that would come after putting them on. I had just come back from a lovely evening with a beautiful woman I had been seeing for the past few months. They've been a whirlwind romance and I think I’m going to marry her one day, as soon as I pluck up the courage to do so. I've already chosen for her to be the person to whom I leave everything to after I depart this world. She is my world.
14.
I hear some shuffling outside, followed by the quick, short barks of my neighbours dog. Mrs Florence Digby has a giraffe like neck which came into considerable use when it came to spying on myself and all the other neighbours in the vicinity. Her nose was unusually large and what with the claws that she called fingernails, she fit right in with the animal kingdom of pets she kept in her house. I then heard the heavy clang of metal on metal. I looked out of my window and can’t seem to see anything. It’s too dark outside so I just assume that it's Mrs Digby tripping over something or another and hitting whatever it is with her metal walking stick.
13.
All is quiet. I'm about to head to bed when I hear more shuffling outside my window. I would have ignored it had I not seen my garage light turn on. That's odd, I remember thinking, it only switches on when there's movement right beneath it. I come to my window and slowly pull back the curtain to survey the area.
12.
My garage door is wide open. I could have sworn I had locked it up earlier. Maybe I had been in too much of a dizzy trance from my perfect evening that I hadn't done so at all.
11.
I head downstairs, not bothering to wear a night gown or a jacket, even though I know that there's a slight chill in the air. I slip on my shoes and grab my keys.
10.
I walk out of my house and close it behind me gently, for fear of banging it shut in my haste and waking all the neighbours.
9.
I freeze. There's the sound of movement inside my garage. I would have passed it off as a badger but I could hear the grunts of what sounded like a fully grown man, one who seemed to be looking for something. I inch closer to my garage door.
8.
Something's wrong. My lock has been broken open and there is blood all over it.
7.
I'm almost at the garage door. I can see the shadow of a man inside. Just a few more steps and I'll be able to see him. Step. Step. Step. I see a man bent over the lock of my car, his back to me. He is wearing a red pullover and cream trousers. I would stand and ponder over how smooth his bald head was but I'm distracted by the chains around his legs. I gasp.
6.
He turns immediately, levelling the tool in his hand at me and raising a short stubby finger before placing it on his lips, warning me to keep quiet. I think I shouted at him at this stage but I think I angered him. He's coming towards me.
5.
I begin to back away slowly. I open my mouth to shout and suddenly he's running towards me and scrambling to cover my mouth with his grotesque sausage fingers. I'm trying to break free. I'm trying to shout. He's too strong. He holds me tight and I begin to claw at his hands, his face, his neck, his clothes, anything I can get my hands on.
4.
He keeps trying to stop me from making any noise or running away. I try to put all my energy into pushing him away and for a split second, I think I've managed to get rid of him.
3.
I make a mad bid to escape and suddenly he's jumped and grabbed my legs. I scream with all my might and keep kicking my legs, trying to break free. I can see him panicking, a desperate hunger to not be caught in his eyes, like that of a prisoner who doesn't think they'll ever see sunlight unless they escape.
2.
There's a crow bar on the floor, literally centimetres away from one of his arms. He follows my eyes and sees it. Momentarily he lets go of my legs to pick it up and I trip before picking myself back up. It's too late, he's on his feet too!
1.
In the brief milliseconds that came before the darkness, my life flashed before my eyes. I see my parents, Easter holidays in Wales, long Summers with friends, her eyes, her beautiful eyes, the ring I had picked out, the visit to my lawyers office to change my will to include her, her Mona Lisa smile, the way she tucked her hair nervously behind her ears when she saw me. The man raises the crowbar and I feel a pain in my head that can't be human. I feel myself sway, a quick dance with the angel of death before the ground rushes up to meet me. Everything goes black.
0.
*
I’m not quite sure where I am right now but all I know is that it is really dark in here. My father always used to tell me as a child that a man should never be afraid of the dark but I’m a grown man who knows that it’s alright to be scared of a dark place, especially when it’s closing in on you and you feel like you can’t breathe. Maybe I really can’t breathe? I try to remember where I was the last time I could remember. I calm myself and close my eyes. I start counting backwards from 15. It’s always been my lucky number.
15.
I’d just changed into my striped cotton pyjamas, the same kind I'd been wearing for the past 30 years or so. I had recently come across a place that sold the same pyjamas that my mother used to buy for me, but for adults. Every time I wear them, I remember the sweet moments of peaceful rest that would come after putting them on. I had just come back from a lovely evening with a beautiful woman I had been seeing for the past few months. They've been a whirlwind romance and I think I’m going to marry her one day, as soon as I pluck up the courage to do so. I've already chosen for her to be the person to whom I leave everything to after I depart this world. She is my world.
14.
I hear some shuffling outside, followed by the quick, short barks of my neighbours dog. Mrs Florence Digby has a giraffe like neck which came into considerable use when it came to spying on myself and all the other neighbours in the vicinity. Her nose was unusually large and what with the claws that she called fingernails, she fit right in with the animal kingdom of pets she kept in her house. I then heard the heavy clang of metal on metal. I looked out of my window and can’t seem to see anything. It’s too dark outside so I just assume that it's Mrs Digby tripping over something or another and hitting whatever it is with her metal walking stick.
13.
All is quiet. I'm about to head to bed when I hear more shuffling outside my window. I would have ignored it had I not seen my garage light turn on. That's odd, I remember thinking, it only switches on when there's movement right beneath it. I come to my window and slowly pull back the curtain to survey the area.
12.
My garage door is wide open. I could have sworn I had locked it up earlier. Maybe I had been in too much of a dizzy trance from my perfect evening that I hadn't done so at all.
11.
I head downstairs, not bothering to wear a night gown or a jacket, even though I know that there's a slight chill in the air. I slip on my shoes and grab my keys.
10.
I walk out of my house and close it behind me gently, for fear of banging it shut in my haste and waking all the neighbours.
9.
I freeze. There's the sound of movement inside my garage. I would have passed it off as a badger but I could hear the grunts of what sounded like a fully grown man, one who seemed to be looking for something. I inch closer to my garage door.
8.
Something's wrong. My lock has been broken open and there is blood all over it.
7.
I'm almost at the garage door. I can see the shadow of a man inside. Just a few more steps and I'll be able to see him. Step. Step. Step. I see a man bent over the lock of my car, his back to me. He is wearing a red pullover and cream trousers. I would stand and ponder over how smooth his bald head was but I'm distracted by the chains around his legs. I gasp.
6.
He turns immediately, levelling the tool in his hand at me and raising a short stubby finger before placing it on his lips, warning me to keep quiet. I think I shouted at him at this stage but I think I angered him. He's coming towards me.
5.
I begin to back away slowly. I open my mouth to shout and suddenly he's running towards me and scrambling to cover my mouth with his grotesque sausage fingers. I'm trying to break free. I'm trying to shout. He's too strong. He holds me tight and I begin to claw at his hands, his face, his neck, his clothes, anything I can get my hands on.
4.
He keeps trying to stop me from making any noise or running away. I try to put all my energy into pushing him away and for a split second, I think I've managed to get rid of him.
3.
I make a mad bid to escape and suddenly he's jumped and grabbed my legs. I scream with all my might and keep kicking my legs, trying to break free. I can see him panicking, a desperate hunger to not be caught in his eyes, like that of a prisoner who doesn't think they'll ever see sunlight unless they escape.
2.
There's a crow bar on the floor, literally centimetres away from one of his arms. He follows my eyes and sees it. Momentarily he lets go of my legs to pick it up and I trip before picking myself back up. It's too late, he's on his feet too!
1.
In the brief milliseconds that came before the darkness, my life flashed before my eyes. I see my parents, Easter holidays in Wales, long Summers with friends, her eyes, her beautiful eyes, the ring I had picked out, the visit to my lawyers office to change my will to include her, her Mona Lisa smile, the way she tucked her hair nervously behind her ears when she saw me. The man raises the crowbar and I feel a pain in my head that can't be human. I feel myself sway, a quick dance with the angel of death before the ground rushes up to meet me. Everything goes black.
0.
The April 17 Project: Day 6 & 7
More delayed posts, but as a true Arab would say, rather late than never!
Day 6
Party time! I had such a great time at the wedding, especially seeing people that I consider family so happy. Best part of all was the zeffa - the part where the bride and groom lead a convoy of what is essentially the entire wedding party through the streets. Music, lights, horns, the lot!
Life goals = have my zeffa in a convertible Ferrari too!
Day 7
I'm still unsure as to how it's been a week since I started this project. What have I learnt so far, you may be asking?
I've learnt that consistency is good and it helps so much to have some kind of platform to write on because I think I tend to snap less at some of the seriously silly things that people do when I have a chance to moan about them later.
I've also learnt that though kids will grumble till the cows come home, they will grow to enjoy it. Some of the work that they have produced is so amazing and they're continuing to blow me away with their participation. More and more of them are volunteering to share their entry for each day and I'm glad to see that I have facilitated that for them.
Let's hope that they can keep it up and though I may be getting ahead of myself, maybe they will take it further than the 17 days!
Day 6
Party time! I had such a great time at the wedding, especially seeing people that I consider family so happy. Best part of all was the zeffa - the part where the bride and groom lead a convoy of what is essentially the entire wedding party through the streets. Music, lights, horns, the lot!
Life goals = have my zeffa in a convertible Ferrari too!
Day 7
I'm still unsure as to how it's been a week since I started this project. What have I learnt so far, you may be asking?
I've learnt that consistency is good and it helps so much to have some kind of platform to write on because I think I tend to snap less at some of the seriously silly things that people do when I have a chance to moan about them later.
I've also learnt that though kids will grumble till the cows come home, they will grow to enjoy it. Some of the work that they have produced is so amazing and they're continuing to blow me away with their participation. More and more of them are volunteering to share their entry for each day and I'm glad to see that I have facilitated that for them.
Let's hope that they can keep it up and though I may be getting ahead of myself, maybe they will take it further than the 17 days!
Monday, 20 April 2015
The April 17 Project: Days 3, 4 and 5
So I'm a little behind on uploading these but this post should compensate and explain just a little as to how busy and hectic these past few days have been.
Happy reading!
That night I dreamt I was walking down the streets of some unknown place. It was completely dark and I was scared of my surroundings, jumping at every sound. I kept walking till my eyes fell upon the dome of Imam Hussain (as). I kept running towards it until I was standing in its shadow.
I woke up intensely happy, having a feeling that I would get the chance to see it soon. Three months later, I was invited by the Imam's in Iraq and Iran to visit them and luckily, I would end up going to Iraq twice that same year.
Good things come to those who wait, and there is no sweeter wait than the lover and the beloved being united.
Birthday's are pretty awesome, especially when it's your own one. I got invited by one of my friends from uni and though I knew I really shouldn't (what with my intensely busy schedule for the weekend) I decided on going... And I'm glad I did!
Good food, good company, long drives and catching up with people who used to be such a huge part of your life. The only thing I realised and kind of missed was their presence. When you see someone everyday for a whole year, you get used to the details of it but when you each grow busy with the demands of life, you start to miss out on so much. Thank God for gatherings and chances to rekindle those special moments.
So yesterday was the celebration of a birthday. Today was insanely packed with more events - a baby shower followed by a funeral and topped off with a visitation of a loved one in hospital. And the best part? Tomorrow there's the wedding of a person who we all consider to be family.
I realised that I had pretty much all the important life stages covered in the space of three days. From birth, to growing older, to a wedding, to sick days and then death. How strange is it that they are to be lined up in such a way that three days symbolise the life we live?
It's a beautiful thing to have a new life brought into the world, to see the happiness of those who welcome our arrival. We grow and mature, celebrating each year for the fact that we are alive and well. We continue on the path till we find someone who becomes the completion of our faith and our souls. We have ups and downs, days where we are reminded of our fragile nature. Then we are laid down to rest and to our Lord our souls return.
All that we leave behind is our good name and our actions which immortalise us in the heats and minds of those we have lived with.
With this, maybe these small worlds and this April 17 Project is another way for me to immortalise myself and leave my mark on the world. Maybe one person will read it and think, ahhh, this is her story and this is how she lived.
Happy reading!
Day Three - A Dream
I was once surfing the net and saw a beautiful picture of the dome of Imam Hussain (as) from the album of pics from the Spiritual Journeys page. I has never seen it before as I had never had the chance to go to Iraq. I fell asleep that night being incredibly upset and wishing for the chance to get to make that visitation.That night I dreamt I was walking down the streets of some unknown place. It was completely dark and I was scared of my surroundings, jumping at every sound. I kept walking till my eyes fell upon the dome of Imam Hussain (as). I kept running towards it until I was standing in its shadow.
I woke up intensely happy, having a feeling that I would get the chance to see it soon. Three months later, I was invited by the Imam's in Iraq and Iran to visit them and luckily, I would end up going to Iraq twice that same year.
Good things come to those who wait, and there is no sweeter wait than the lover and the beloved being united.
Day Four
Birthday's are pretty awesome, especially when it's your own one. I got invited by one of my friends from uni and though I knew I really shouldn't (what with my intensely busy schedule for the weekend) I decided on going... And I'm glad I did!
Good food, good company, long drives and catching up with people who used to be such a huge part of your life. The only thing I realised and kind of missed was their presence. When you see someone everyday for a whole year, you get used to the details of it but when you each grow busy with the demands of life, you start to miss out on so much. Thank God for gatherings and chances to rekindle those special moments.
Day Five - The Circle of Life
So yesterday was the celebration of a birthday. Today was insanely packed with more events - a baby shower followed by a funeral and topped off with a visitation of a loved one in hospital. And the best part? Tomorrow there's the wedding of a person who we all consider to be family.
I realised that I had pretty much all the important life stages covered in the space of three days. From birth, to growing older, to a wedding, to sick days and then death. How strange is it that they are to be lined up in such a way that three days symbolise the life we live?
It's a beautiful thing to have a new life brought into the world, to see the happiness of those who welcome our arrival. We grow and mature, celebrating each year for the fact that we are alive and well. We continue on the path till we find someone who becomes the completion of our faith and our souls. We have ups and downs, days where we are reminded of our fragile nature. Then we are laid down to rest and to our Lord our souls return.
All that we leave behind is our good name and our actions which immortalise us in the heats and minds of those we have lived with.
With this, maybe these small worlds and this April 17 Project is another way for me to immortalise myself and leave my mark on the world. Maybe one person will read it and think, ahhh, this is her story and this is how she lived.
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