Dear Readers, I've Moved to Wordpress

Dear beloved readers,

I've decided to switch over from this blog to Wordpress (the new link is http://orbala.wordpress.com) - mainly because I've received multiple complaints from multiple readers that their comments are often not published by Blogger (and I never receive/see them) or that they have difficulty commenting there. This can be quite frustrating when you write a long, detailed comment. My sincerest apologies, both from me and especially on behalf of Blogger, to those of you whose voice was never or rarely heard on my blog because of this technical issue!

Saving Fish from Drowning

Because this reminds me of Zakir Naik (and our other "leaders" who are actually misleading our people):

A pious man explained to his followers: 'It is evil to take lives and noble to save them. Each day I pledge to save a hundred lives. I drop my net in the lake and scoop out a hundred fishes. I place the fishes on the bank, where they flop and twirl. "Don't be scared," I tell those fishes. "I am saving you from drowning." Soon enough, the fishes grow calm and lie still. Yet, sad to say, I am always too late. The fishes expire. And because it is evil to waste anything, I take those dead fishes to market and I sell them for a good price. With the money I receive, I buy more nets so I can save more fishes.”
― Amy Tan, Saving Fish from Drowning: A Novel

Why Malala Yousafzai Deserved the Nobel Peace Prize - and stop oversimplying her story, folks.

Beloved readers,

This post has been moved to my new blog over at Wordpress. It can be accessed here: Why Malala Yousafzai Deserved the Nobel Peace Prize - and stop oversimplying her story, folks.

Thank you for visiting and reading!

~ Orbala

Pashtun Personality of the Week: Bushra Gohar, A Remarkable Leading Politician

Dear readers,
The post has been moved to my Wordpress blog. Please click below to access it.

Pashtun Personality of the Week: Bushra Gohar, A Remarkable Leading Politician

Keep calm and read qrratu's blog.

'nuff said, no?

Discrimination hurts us all.

Seriously, tho ...

Discrimination hurts all of us. I have a bus driver who often refuses to stop the bus for Hispanic (and I presume other non-white/non-black - she's black) passengers. Today, for instance, she didn't make a stop when she was supposed to despite a Hispanic guy yelling out and waving his hand for her to stop. She eventually stopped (passed the designated stop) because someone had indicated they needed to get off. The Hispanic guy ran towards the bus, and he ALMOST made it, but she took off. And then she started talking to herself meanly, I suspect saying bad things about the guy. I didn't hear because I was in the back, but this was really, really upsetting to see. 

Short film - "Freedom Journalism Award, Best Photo"

I love short films and just got reminded of this one. Seriously one of the most beautiful, most haunting, most moving short film ever produced. It gets you thinking deep stuff, especially our own roles as witnesses to crimes (specifically in conflict, to whomever relevant - journalists, maybe?), on photojournalism, journalist ethics, and so on.

Why instill "inferior" qualities in our daughters and "superior" ones in our sons?

Pre-Script: This is not at all to suggest that I believe masculinity is superior to femininity. The post below is actually a response to when our patriarchal, oft-misogynistic societies command that we raise our daughters as delicate, emotional, wanted/loved, but then when we do that, societies bites our daughters in the ass and tells them, "Oh, but those are inferior qualities!" Yeah, eff you, patriarchy. But I don't think the quality of "emotion" is inferior to whatever its alternative or opposite might be (conventionally "reason" but that's sick and false).

"We've begun to raise our daughters more like sons ... but few have the courage to raise our sons more like our daughters," says Gloria Steinem. And I agree. Many people, especially Pukhtuns, have a hard time understanding this quote. So let me explain.

Music makes me happy, and singing empowers me.

YOU GUYS!!! I'm going to be singing again at our Middle Eastern ensemble this semester again, inshaAllah!! BIG, BIG GRINS!! hamdallah.

Remember last semester, I wrote about how I was singing a couple of Pashto songs for our ensemble? Do recall that I'm no singer at all, and I don't claim to be one - but I do love singing. I also think of myself as a shy person generally, and I hate being the center of attention, but there's something about holding a mic, speaking and singing into it a song that's close to your heart because it's all about female empowerment, women's rights, female education, female leadership, the celebration of girls and daughters and girlhood. That's also originally sung by your favorite female Pashto singer and picturized by someone you love, respect, and look up to (Samar Minallah). And also a song that the ensemble finds a lot of fun to play and listen to, one that everyone else just LOVES because of how happy-happy it is and how beautifully it's composed.

This beautiful song by Shafiq Mureed

Okay ... kindly take the next 4 minutes and 49 seconds and listen to this song and feel hopeful about the world again. So much love!! It's so beautiful! It's in Dari, but English subs are there as well, so follow along to have your heart melt. This guy is a truly beautiful person. May God reward him for his work for Afghanistan and his people.

The claim that Malcolm X was a "black supremacist," racism against blacks, and white privilege

As I've mentioned previously, I'm TA'ing a class on Black History called The Black Power Movement. It's one of the most powerful, most important classes I've ever sat in on or taken in my life. It's huge (over 500 students, 6 TAs), and it's nothing like a typical history class, according to students I've talked to. I type my notes, and one of these days, I'm going to sift through them and share on this blog some of what I think needs to be heard and read more widely. Our section on Malcolm X is one of those things - everyone, esp white people, need to know about him through the various (4 main) phases he went through; they need to understand and appreciate the context of Malcolm X's view of the white man is the devil, but they also need to know that Malcolm X changed his view after his pilgrimage to Mecca. I'm not writing this just because I'm a Muslim, and Malcolm X was a Muslim (in fact, for political reasons and my utter hatred for Saudi's politics, I've "controversial" views on Hajj; we'll talk about that some other time, ai), but I'm writing this because, frankly, even the teacher hasn't brought this up in class yet, and we've been talking about Malcolm X for the last couple of lectures. One of the things I have GOT to work on like right now is pointing out such flaws - so while I didn't end up saying this out loud in class (I will on Tuesday in the next lecture, inshaAllah), I did ask the teacher after class if he is going to cover that because I think that's an important phase of Malcolm X's life.

But here's what happened.

Judith Stacey's "Can There be a Feminist Ethnography?"

Because this article was awesome (I wasn't convinced by her argument, but it's still useful, relevant, and important).

"Can There be a Feminist Ethnography?" by Judith Stacey 

Photos of Eid-ul-Fitr (Little Eid) in Oman

On Eid day, I wrote about what Eid and Ramadhan are like in Oman - but the post was pretty much photo-less. So here are some pics.

What happens to a longing unfulfilled? (Poem)

I promise there's a poem at the end of this post somewhere. It's my latest creation, and I'm pleased with it, so. *insert heart icon*

One of the most important things to know about me is that I LOVE rain. I'm crazy about rain. I love thunderstorms, I love threatening skies, I love rainy weather. People tend to associate this kind of weather with misery (a friend once wrote a poem with the line "The sun was shining outside, but it was raining in my heart" - I didn't get it), but for me, nothing could be more romantic, more happier, more peaceful. Rain is beautiful. Rain is peace. Rain is happiness. I've happily passed this love on to Kashmala so that whenever I'm home when it's raining, Kashmala and I walk out without an umbrella (yeah, about that: I don't do umbrellas, you see) and dance! Yes, we dance in the rain, and it feels so, so wonderful! 

And so I've written a couple of poems dedicated to rain. Rainy weather just puts me in that much more romantic a mood! Here's something I wrote a few years ago about why I love rain when I first moved to where I live now and I saw the rain after several months:

Rain truly makes me happy. My heart feels lighter, my mind's at ease, my soul literally feels purified. It's as if the rain is literally washing my tension, problems, whatever else away, cleansing me of all the dilemmas I always find myself in. It's as if my heart is enclosed by the dirt of these petty issues, and the rain washes away this dirt, literally cleaning my heart. And so, when it rains,  I'm like, "What? What problems? I have no problems. I was born a happy person, and I'm going to die a happy person." And next thing I know, I'm smiling and everyone walking by smiles back, and I feel even more content with life and everything around me. Really, rain is SO beautiful.

And it's been raining here the last few days - such a blessing to wake up to and go to sleep to, alhamdulillah! It makes my heart smile.

Now the poem I promised ...

What Happens to a Longing Unfulfilled?

Ay Zama Watana by Ghani Khan (song, script)

Ghani Khan is perhaps my most favorite person in history. He's a fascinating character and certainly one of the most brilliant icons to have lived this earth. His humor makes me crazy, his conversation with God and his love for God overwhelm me (in a beautiful way), and his poetry is just ... no, it kills me. It really, really kills me. When I listen to his poetry, sung mostly through Sardar Ali Takkar, I close my eyes, the world stops momentarily, my heart, too, stops to listen, and I'm no longer the same person afterwards. I call this powerful. He died in 1996, when I was too young to know him and all, but if there's anyone in history who I'd love to see in a dream, it's him. (Well, there's a couple of other interesting/influential figures as well, like Mary Mother of Jesus (peace be on them) and Muhammad (peace be on him), but Ghani kho Ghani dey kana :) Ghani is Ghani. Ghani is from me, and I'm from him. I'm OF him. He was Pukhtun, you see. He's my eternal chalice of hope. He, along with so many other brilliant poets and scholars and legends, is a beautiful reason Pukhtuns have something to claim. 

This is what's wrong with Pashto music today

Dear readers,
Thank you for visiting! This blog post on Pashto music has been moved over to my new blog. Please click below to access it:

11 things wrong with Pashto music today – with gifs

Thank you!

~ October 9, 2015

Rest in Peace, Tayyibah Taylor! Your loss is sorely felt.

Tayyibah Taylor - RIP

I'm so disturbed and overwhelmed to hear about Tayyibah Taylor's passing. I wish nothing more right now than that this were a hoax ... but I don't think it is. It's unbelievable. It's shocking. It's impossible. How can we be expected to accept her loss, and how are we supposed to deal with it? She was an incredible and influential role model to all, not just to Muslim women. I met her twice, (but I wish I'd been around her more) when I was interviewing her for a small project I was doing on Muslim women leaders in the area, and she, of course, was one of the top ones, and the things she shared with me were beautiful. She was such a positive, energetic, and spiritual person that being around her made you reflect on your own self for self-improvement purposes. And that, besides the infinite other things, is how you know her passing is a major loss to our community.

Muscat, Oman in pictures

Hi,
So I clearly have some more pics to share from my adventures in Oman. And some stories to tell - especially that one about how I *almost* got expelled from CLS (the program I was with). But that still bothers me, and I'm not quite over it yet, so I'll tell it when I'm comfortable enough to do so. And just some general thoughts of mine on Oman ... and my overall review of CLS in Ibri.

Meanwhile, though, here are some photos from Muscat. I had a good time there! Just a little tip: You don't go to Muscat for a short 2-3 days; that's a beautiful and big city, and you need at least a week to enjoy it all! I saw the souq (bazaar), known as Souq Matrah; I spent a good amount of time at the largest mosque in Oman, the Grand Sultan Qaboos Mosque, and I had iftar there; I walked on the beach; I visited the mall/City Center and bought a couple of books in Arabic and got an interesting and refreshing perspective on what Oman's version of Victoria's Secret looks like (pic below); I hung out with friends at a Starbucks there (I KNOW!! There IS a Starbucks in Oman! Just not in Ibri. Then again, I'm no fan of Starbucks, and I don't do coffee. The only thing I ever get at Starbucks is their strawberry smoothies, if I absolutely feel the need to have a drink.); and I chilled lots and lots at the hotel we were staying at, Hotel Al-Falaj. OH! And that's where I basically perfected my swimming skills. May God reward my friends for teaching me!

As for my general impression of Muscat, all I could notice, really, was that my beeblez--the South Asians--seemed to be running everything (and, yes, they're treated quite badly there, like slaves, and, no, they don't actually run anything and get less than some 30% of the money they earn from the shops they run). I'm still not ready to talk about my general impression of Oman so let's not do this, please. Another time, inshaAllah, once I've healed from the trauma I faced during the second half of my stay there.

Focus now. Here are the pictures.

This Semester - and a class on Black History

(Warning / pre-post: The following post includes a photo of lynching (that may be viewed as disturbing by some) as a reminder of the hell that Black people have suffered in the U.S.)

Hello all,

This semester has begun, and as enlightening as it's going to be, it's also going to be quite stressful and difficult. Possibly the most difficult of all my semesters in grad school so far. I'm still thoroughly excited, though!

Funny things I heard and noticed in Ibri, Oman

None of the following observations are intended to generalize about Oman or Ibri or to at all suggest anything negative about Omanis. Every society has similar ridiculousness (if anything, I think some Pakistanis and other South Asians can be really ridiculous in their ideas about women when as well - and just other things, like "Running disturbs the jinnat and the earth, and God will punish you for running on the Day of Judgment" - I KNOW!), so let's not jump to any unfair conclusions about an entire population that I'm sure is more diverse than they appear in Ibri (they don't seem diverse in Ibri, though, according to my experiences). Common unfair generalizations are mentioned below not because I think only Omanis generalize about other people and groups but just because I find all generalizations to always be ridiculous.

Still, the below is simply to share some funny things I've come across in Ibri. I wouldn't suggest reading more into them. Thanks.

So.

Patriarchy insults women and men. Let's get rid of it asap.

Pre-post: I actually wrote this on July 25th (while I was in Oman), and it was triggered by the harassment we girls were facing each time we'd walk around - men whistling at us, trying to talk to us, stopping their cars to ask us to get in their cars with them (even when we had our long black abayas as is expected of women in Ibri, Oman - so there: harassment isn't about clothing!), blowing kisses towards us, staring at us (OH MY GOD!!), and so on. But as I started talking about harassment, I went on to talk about patriarchy and feminism and what an enemy patriarchy is of not just women but men as well. I realized that if CLS or Oman comes across this post, it could be interpreted as an attack on Oman or Omani society. That's not what I was or am doing, but since I got in trouble previously for talking about my experience with an Omani family's maid and what hell she goes through and then I criticized the servanthood system in Oman and almost got expelled from the program, I've to be careful. One of the many lessons I learned from that was to never, ever, ever, EVER say anything negative about Oman, Omani society, Omani people, Omani culture, Omani religion, Ibadhis, or something that could even be interpreted as negative (... and that led me to believe that if I can't say anything negative about this society, no matter how true it is, I refuse to say anything positive about it, either, then.) So while harassment is a problem everywhere, and I wasn't focusing on Oman in the post below, I had to postpone publishing this post until I was safely back in the U.S.

God bless freedom of speech. God bless America for letting me blog about whatever I want. Freedom of speech and expression should not be a privilege, but unfortunately it is. Long live all freedoms!

So here.

I've too much to say right now, but I have other things to do at the moment, so I'll just say this briefly:  a woman's worst enemy is patriarchy. Actually, a man's worst enemy is patriarchy, too. Below is a meme that explains it much better than I can, but I'll write about this myself more in a few weeks and will explain what has triggered this statement that we need to get rid of patriarchy asap. I'll give you a hint: harassment, men thinking that public spaces belong to them only and hence when a woman shares them with them, they think they have a right to stare at her, whistle at her, blow kisses towards her, touch her, grope her, call out to her, talk to her, and so on. Women being taught that they're "like precious pearls" and so therefore must cover up their bodies because their bodies belong only to their husbands, "not to all other men"! Do men's bodies belong to everyone and that's hwy they don't have to cover up, that's why they're not taught the same thing? Besides, I don't wanna be a "precious pearl"; I prefer being a human being with a mind and body of my own. Men, too, are human beings. No human, no gender is delicate by nature - we're all decliCATED when we're consistently taught through our lives that "you can't do this because you're incapable of doing it" and so on. Words are powerful, as are the messages that such harmful thinking sends women and men, girls and boys - and everyone in between.

The Old (Mud) Houses in Oman

I'm obsessed with the different styles of houses around the world. Humans are pretty intelligent and practical. I've posted before about Omani houses (the current style, especially of upper class / richer Omanis who have benefited immensely from the oil discovery), although now that I think about it, I think that post may be currently under "drafts." Long story as to why I did that, but I'll post it back once I'm back in the U.S. Four more days for that to happen, inshaAllah!

I've also previously blogged about what traditional Pukhtun/Pashtun houses look like. As you probably know by now, unless you're a new reader of mine from my time in Oman, I'm Pukhtun (also known as Pashtun), and I hope that's obvious from this blog, but in case it's not, now you know. Grin.

Ramadhan and Eid in Ibri, Oman

As you all know, I've been in Oman for the past 2 months studying Arabic - and I'm returning to the U.S. in about 2 weeks, inshaAllah. Generally speaking, I've had a fairly good time, and I know I'm going to miss it. I'm glad I got to spend all of Ramadhan and Eid here, and I've learned some fascinating things about the culture and society and people here.

Happy Birthday, Kashmala!

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm blessed with three precious niblings--two nephews and a niece. They're pieces of my heart, and the happiness and joy that have come to my world and to my life because of them have been such that I cannot describe them in words. I've tried many times and have failed. When my first nephew was a baby, I used to write love poems for him. I stopped as my feelings grew deeper and deeper for him. For Kashmala, I haven't been able to write anything at all. For the littlest one, same - nothing. They're so beautiful, they're so blessed, they're such a joy. They bring noor to every home they occupy, especially my parents', and without them, we might as well not exist.

May God grant these three little creatures full, healthy, and happy lives that are blessed with excitement (good excitement), love, and peace. May they all grow into beautiful people (revolutionaries) who will bring positive change into the lives and communities they come across. May they give back to this world in (positively) memorable ways. Aameen.

So it just occurred to me that I could actually write letters to these itty bitty creatures that they could actually read later on, especially when they face some hardship and need a reminder that they matter, that they are loved, that they are someone's life. Since it's Kashmala's birthday--and since I'm prolly just being biased because she lives with my family, so is closest to me physically--we'll start with her.

Dear Kashmala,

I did not like "And the Mountains Echoed" - too disappointed.

I started reading And the Mountains Echoed by the talented Khaled Hosseini over a month ago, and I just finished it yesterday. A good novel, a good book takes me less than four days to finish - this one took forever because I was not hooked to it. But I was also not going to abandon it in the middle. I still wanted to know what happens in the bigger, main story.

Musandam, Oman Photos - Tour through the Gulf of Oman

The second day of our vacation in Musandam, Oman, we had a 4-hour tour through the Gulf of Oman. Here are some pictures.

 

That moment in Musandam (Oman) when I jumped into the Gulf of Oman

The highlight of not just our time in Musandam but also of this whole summer was today, Friday, July 18th, when I, a new swimmer and not yet excellent, decided to jump off the boat into the Gulf of Oman.

Pictures from Musandam, Oman

I'm currently visiting Musandam in Oman, which required a 3-hour van and a 5-hour ferry ride. It's been so wonderful so far I feel like I'm in heaven, alhamdulillah! This place is so beautiful I wanna live here forever!

The hotel is beautiful, and the people are really nice. It's really cheap because it's new, so they're giving out great deals to guests. They even provide courtesy rides to and from the hotel to anywhere want around here, like restaurants, the port, etc.

I took a lot of pictures in my camera, but I unfortunately forgot my USB for the camera at home so cannot upload the pictures, BUT! I also took a few pictures in my phone, and here they are.

Enjoy!

Today for iftar

Today for iftar, a local Omani friend of mine and someone at our institute - God bless him infinitely - told me his mom would like to send me some harees. So I had harees with my iftar. God bless generous people!! Also, she make the best harees ever, mashaAllah!

Then later, someone brought me some fruits for iftar. Said person has brought me iftar a couple of times before, but either I'm away from the apartment for the moment or am at host family's so never received it. This time,  I was home, and the person didn't know if I'd be home or not so just brought fruit and said I'll have real food on Saturday once we've returned from Musandam. How does a heart not smile at such kind gestures?!?! Beauty is real! Humanity is real! Indeed, Ramadhan kareem.

The last visit to the host family

Some pictures from our last visit to the host family.

Their farm

Lemons

They said I could take as many as I want. God bless them!

I don't understand arrogance and abuse. And I'm glad I don't.

I wrote this about a week ago, but I've been waiting to calm down a little bit over this before I made it public. (Un)fortunately, though, I'm still as disturbed over this, and my experience here is actually taking an entirely different turn. Well, that started a couple of weeks ago once I became more aware of the treatment and situation of the migrant workers here as well as of the rampant racism and prejudice here (not at all to insinuate that these flaws exist only here and not in other countries, since they're also actively present and real where I'm from and live - but at least there, it's safe and comfortable and acceptable, at least in my experience, to talk about the problems we're facing there! Here, it's a different story). 

So this is what happened. But before I tell you, the *last* thing I'll tolerate right now is anyone's telling me, "But, but ... but, silly qrratugai, you can't take the example of one migrant worker and think it's the same everywhere in the country!" No, I know there are exceptions to everything, but in my opinion, this ONE person's experience is problem enough for me to pay attention to. I know there are good people out there, "good slave owners," but it's the bad ones I'm interested in and the bad ones I'm talking about. Nothing can justify it, and I won't tolerate anyone trying to justify it, either. I "get" it - I really do, I swear I do, but I reject it completely. And all it takes is to try to put yourself in that worker's/maid's (no, actually, that slave's) position and ask yourself why you happened to be the chosen one and she/he isn't. It's reached a point where I am actually now realizing that the primary reason I'm being respected and treated well here by some locals is generally not because I'm another human being, especially a human living away from my family and they want to treat me as family, but actually because I'm American, because I have American citizenship, because they assume I'm rich, because they expect I'm from a better socio-economic class than their servants/maids/slaves and that being "above" them makes me more deserving of the privileges they bestow upon me, that being in this position gives me the privilege of being served by their servants. Again, of course, this isn't all of the locals here; I know some of them do sincerely care about their servants, pay them on time, treat them well, buy them round-trip tickets home frequently to see their families, let them speak to their families on the phone regularly, and so on, and in that case, I do appreciate their generosity, but in the rest of the cases, I no longer do.

So here's what happened.

An above-average home of a migrant worker. 40 Omani riyals/mo.

Some days ago, a friend and I went to the house of a friend we've made here. For suhoor (the dawn meal you eat in order to begin your fast) and a little before that, we were at her neighbor's house. This neighbor, an Omani, has a South Asian maid. We'd smiled at this maid the few times we'd met her before that, so she really likes us. Then this time, we took the risk of actually talking to her, which made her so, so happy; she was all smiles, and she hugged me and my friend. It made my heart smile to see her that happy. God give her strength in the hellhole she lives in. After hugging us unstoppably, and thanking us infinitely and joyously, she started crying to us. Pointed to parts of her body where she gets beaten. Pointed to folks in the house who beat her, who include the "madam" (who's younger than me, by the way) and then the madam's 10-year old niece who lives with her (her sister is divorced, so her sisters daughter lives with the Madam), THE TEN YEAR OLD BEATS UP THIS WORKER, who's at least 40 years old!!!!!!!!!!! OH MY GOD!!!  IN WHAT WORLD IS THIS ACCEPTABLE?!?!?! She later then showed us pictures of her children after she told me I look like her daughter and asked me to live in that house. I was like I'll go crazy knowing you're being abused and there's nothing I can do about it. But didn't say this because she doesn't know Arabic or English and I don't know her language. She said her mother has passed away, may she rest in peace, and when she was dying, the family wouldn't let her speak to her own mother, who had been sick for some time as well, and the worker was still not allowed to speak with her. She said her daughter calls her but the family won't let her talk to her. She said she gets fed nothing and has no clothes. (And now you can imagine why we wanted to throw up while eating the food, the infinite fruits and rice and meat that this same worker had just served us). They don't give her ANYTHING and beat her up all the time. She cried again. I was scared for her because I feared that if the family sees her talking to us, they'll find another excuse to abuse her. Fortunately, she said she's leaving in I wanna say 15 days? She was really happy when she'd show us those fingers. She also said something that appeared to mean, "They punish me by not letting me sleep or eat for three days." The family later told us, when they were shitting about how useless she is to them, that "We're sending her back this Ramadhan and getting a new, younger, more educated girl. Someone who'll take care of our kids better" or something. Indonesians maids aren't allowed anymore because, rumor has it according to some Omanis I've spoken to about this issue, "Indonesians have no manners and no feelings and they kill our children." 

The same home as the above picture

 Since we don't share a mutual language, you might wonder how we communicated then and how I got all of this out of our time with her. Because we used signals mostly and she understands certain words of one of the languages I know and was speaking with her.

Now, after thinking more seriously about the status of foreigners here, especially of the migrant workers/slaves, I no longer even appreciate the food offered to these same people during Ramadhan. Because, while that's fantastic that they're fed well at least a month of the year, their reasons aren't quite something I can respect, and it all just seems to be a show, a shallow act to hide the terrible lack of humanity of the same people they're supposedly feeding because of the blessings of Ramadhan.  

I don't know in what world such arrogance can be acceptable. I don't know how poor, how weak, how ruthless a person has to be to treat another human this way. I don't understand arrogance and abuse, and I'm glad I don't.

More good Iftar food

I'm sorry if this sounds arrogant and all, but I really don't mean to imply at all that I'm more well-fed than anyone else out there.  I understand that more people in this world go hungry daily and many starve to death, and this isn't fair to anyone at all - but I suspect that  those who have access to internet are most probably not suffering from a lack of food. Still, my well wishes to everyone out there!

Alhamdulillah for all this food and these opportunities to try out iftar with generous local Omanis.

It's almost iftar time here, and I'm starving, so. A couple of days ago, I was invited for iftar to a friend's house, and I just might have had the best harees (traditional popular Omani dish) yet! We also had a great pasta dish and lots of halawiyaat (sweets). As is the tradition here, we went over to visit the family's relatives after iftar, and thank God for big families - I got to talk a lot and meet more wonderful people AND!!! I got to feel like I was fascinating enough for children to sit around me and marvel at my existence. Bless. Hamdallah for good humans, hamdallah for Ramadhan.

Before iftar, we were shown around the house and because of my obsession with houses, especially Omani houses, I was granted permission to take photos and post them on my blog. So here. Foods in the end.

My Omani host family's farm

All right - we finally now talk about my host family's farm (animal and plant). 

So we ate a boosboosa and headed out to tour the huge farm. I'm not gonna label all of the photos below because some of them, I don't remember what they are anymore. (I know, I should post pictures like these almost as soon as I take them. InshaAllah next time.) But they have the following in plants:

grapes, grapefruit (or something like it that's big and green but red on the inside), mangoes, bananas, apples; olives, mustard, coriander, other spices; various flowers; plenty of date trees (they're called nakheel in Arabic); figs, eggplants, okra, red and green pepper, lemons and limes. Other plants that I don't remember anymore.

For animals, they have goats, sheep, cows, chicken. 

MashaAllah 'alaihim. God preserve them, their wealth, and their farms - aameen.

That engagement ceremony I went to in Ibri, Oman

Okay, so I promised y'all I'll write about that engagement party/ceremony I attended a few weekends ago. Now here I am finally fulfilling that promise.

BUT! Honestly, there's not much to tell or show since pictures weren't allowed (only an official photographer and some close family members were allowed to take pics). I'll discus the reasons for this below.

I hope I haven't left out anything important, but I'll add it later on if I remember something essential.

The visit to an Omani farm (animals and plants)

Some weeks ago, we visited the family farm of an Omani family here. As you've probably figured from my previous blog posts, most families here seem to have farms - animal and plant. I'll share photos of my host family's farm soon as well. 

It's been a long time since I took these photos, though, so I don't remember the names of most of some of the plants, but we can look them up if need be, ei!

The trip to a falaj (stream) and Bat, Oman

A few Saturdays ago, we visited a UNESCO heritage site called Bat (بات) here in Oman. The same day, we also visited a falaj (a stream used for irrigation purposes) in a village called Zahir al-Fawaris (قرية ظاهر الفوارس). Oman is crazy hot, as you know, so it's quite refreshing to come across a small, even half empty, body of water and some greenery. As tends to happen to me wherever I go, I fell in the water. *Insert heart icon here.* But I didn't get hurt, so no worries. The water's source is the mountain nearby, and where it meets the mountain is where it's the cleanest, so people use that water as drinking water. I filled up a couple of water bottles there. After a little bit, my tummy wasn't feeling good so I'm not sure that was a good idea, BUT I didn't get sick or anything. It was prolly in my head because I was fearing it might happen, hah.

Then we went to a family farm (pictures of that another time - and, yes, I remember that I still owe y'all pictures of my host family's farm). We had a wonderful huge meal at the family whose farm we visited (God reward them for their kindness and hospitality, aameen!) and afterwards, we went to Bat. I didn't take many pics in Bat because it's pretty much the same view all throughout, but a couple of things about Bat: It's a necropolis - that is, a huge and ancient, historical cemetery. The way these tombs are built reveals much about the funeral practices (and the evolution of those practices) of the people who lived in the Omani peninsula during the Bronze Age (3000 BCE). Bat is the most complete known site of the time period. In 1988, it became the second site to be included in the World Heritage list.

I'm going to paste from OmanTourism.gov about the different tombs from different time periods in Bat:

"In the southern part, the site is a collection of graves built on the lines of those found in Um AnNar, while in the northern part, the graves look like beehives and date back to the third millennium BC. The architecture is similar to the tombs built in the Hafit period. Another cemetery containing 100 tombs built of stone was also discovered, where the evolution from the beehive style to cemeteries built during Um AnNar period is apparent. While the beehive cemetery contained between two to five tombs, Um AnNar cemeteries were mass graves. A similar cemetery of this style was discovered containing 30 burial chambers. The historic significance of the Bat site is that it is located at the crossroads of an ancient trade route. Caravans loaded with goods heading to other nearby destinations passed through Bat. Included with the Bat settlement in the World Heritage List are two other sites: Al Khutum “Al Wahrah” and Wadi Al Ayn Tombs."

Feel free to google it up for more information and for better pictures and all; here's a good start - a video. It can give you goose bumps, provided you visit in a non-hot time of the day. We were there between, I don't know, say, 2:30pm and 4? The sun is cruel that time of the day, so.

Below, I'll first show photos of the falaj and then of Bat.

The Falaj

Iftar and cooking with another generous Omani family

Yesterday,  Sunday, July 7th, we were invited to the institute director's sister's house for iftar (fast-breaking) - which is more than just breaking the fast, being a whole exciting process, you know. We were taught how to make some delicious Omani appetizers/snacks slash iftar stuff: fataayers, little pizza stuff, sandwiches, and samosas (samboosas in Arabic), and so on. We made them together and then we ate them all afterwards along with a traditional Omani meal that included Omani bread (khubz Omani). Khubz Omani (youtube video)  is really, really thin. Hold on, I show you pics in a second. But let's first take a moment to send some well wishes to this family and to our institute director for providing us with this opportunity. They're a beautiful family, and may God grant them all good health, peace, and much happiness, aameen. Anyone with a heart as big as theirs deserves nothing but the infinite blessings of God. 

Now the pics.

What "nikah" actually means in Arabic

One of my next blog posts is going to be a description of the engagement party that I went to two weekends ago in Ibri, Oman, but for now, let me just tell you a funny thing that happened recently.

Iftar at the mosque and a visit to a wonderful family

Yesterday, Wednesday, July 2, 2014 was a beautiful, beautiful day! Alhamdulillah for good people and for generosity and for Ramadhan and for Oman and for Muslims and for fasting and for all other goodnesses out there!

You know how I told you guys that there are tents set up by mosques in Oman during Ramadhan where anyone but especially travelers, the poor, and people who live away from families can break their fast and eat a beautiful meal with others? (And mosques are all over; people should be able to walk to one conveniently. This is the case with all Muslim countries, I want to say.) And then it turned out that there were no women in the tents but only men, and so I was disappointed and all? Yeah, well, I was told that iftar (the fast-breaking meal) is served for women inside the mosque, so I decided to try it.  While I do appreciate free food and all, the one thing I go for and am seeking here is a community. I don't prefer eating alone in general but especially the iftar meal. I really prefer that it be with others. More blessings that way, more fun that way. I love people and I love talking to people, and considering how funny being a foreigner is especially around Omanis, I'm always looking to meet more Omanis. I was even recently complaining to CLS that there aren't enough opportunities for the girls at CLS to meet and interact with local Omani women. All this time, I thought women don't go to the mosque here except in Ramadhan (THAT IS WHAT OMANIS TOLD ME!), so I didn't even bother visiting it! It's the Sultan Qaboos mosque, the largest in Ibri, although the actual Sultan Qaboos mosque is even bigger and grander and more beautiful and is located in Muscat, Oman's capital. We're going to Muscat today in a couple of hours, inshaAllah, and we'll visit the mosque and I'll share pics on my blog then.

Anyway, so I wish I'd gone to the mosque this past month before Ramadhan began and met more Omani people that way! Such a beautiful thing, really.

Importantly, though, before I tell you the story of how I met this non-Omani Muslim woman.

The food provided at the tents is donated by local Omanis/Muslims for Ramadhan.

The food provided at the mosque in Ramdhan is from the government. Anyone and everyone is welcome to eat it. Doesn't this just melt your heart?! God bless these people! I wish all goodness upon Oman.

Now, the story ...

Iftar (fast-breaking) with a local Omani family

Omanis continue to impress me with their unlimited generosity--and Omani women's cooking skills (OH MY GOD! MashaAllah alaihinna). Today, for iftar (fast-breaking), I went to the house of a family I have never met or visited before, but the woman who gave me and my friend a ride to her house turned out to be our institute director's sister. There was SO much food, SO much kindness, and SO much fun! After iftar, we talked and all, and then after taraweeh prayers (the long, voluntary prayers during the night prayer, performed only in Ramdhan) were finished at the mosque, several neighbors (women only) came over to visit - an Omani (commonly Muslim) tradition during Ramadhan where neighbors and relatives visit each other and eat some more. And talk loads, too. Today was a happy, happy day, hamdallah! Oman's being so good to me right now.

Pictures below.

Muslim generosity during Ramadhan in Oman

I have just experienced Muslim generosity at its peak. I'm so touched right now I feel like crying. God bless generous people!

The trip to Jabal Akhdar, Oman

On Saturday, June 28, we visited Jabal Akhdar, a mountainous city in Oman. The name literally means "the green mountain" - and while it is somewhat green and the weather is amazing there (it even rained on our way back!), the title doesn't' refer to the weather but to the fact that people live there, the color green being symbolic of life. The people who live here are called the Bani Riyam, but after the oil discovery in Oman, most of these people left for bigger cities nearby, so now barely anyone lives here. The houses we saw were abandoned homes.

Jabal Akhdar  is a good two hours away from Ibri to just get to the bottom of the mountain, but then you take these "four-wheelers" to drive up the mountain. That ride was a good 20-30 minutes, I think. Also, the place is known for rose water, but I totally forgot to ask about this during our tour. Oman generally imports rose water from Pakistan, a teacher told us last week, but Jabal Akhdar is the one place in Oman famous for it.

While on Jabal Akhdar, after seeing those abandoned houses (noted in the pics below), we went to a village called Qaryat al-Ayn (qaryah = village, al-ayn = (water) spring), and people still live there. It reminded me much like villages in Pakistan. Then again, I imagine all villages around the world are the same.

Now the pics. Bismillah.

The presentation on migrant laborers' human rights violations in the U.S. & the Gulf

Okay, okay, I know I've promised to blog about a bit too many more topics than I can prolly take up right now, and I still promise to do so with time, but for now, I'll just talk about something that's still fresh in my mind and heart. I promise to blog about the engagement party I attended last weekend AND about my host family's farm and all. And I've some pictures I'd like to share sooner or later. And I can't claim that it's because I don't have time--because blogging is one of those things I'll find time for (another such thing is sleep). It's mostly because I'm being lazy; other times, it's because the amount of stuff I've to say in the blog post overwhelms me (it's exciting, I swear, but it's so much it's also rather overwhelming); other times, I'm simply trying to avoid the computer because the thought of checking my email and the responsibilities I've to full while in Oman scares the shit out of me. I want to have nothing that serious to think about! On a happier note, though, finally allowing myself to check my email wasn't so bad after all because there've been some good news academic-wise lately, alhamdulillah. I'm too shy to note them here. Maybe another time, iA.

Also, I cannot speak in English anymore being more focused on Arabic at the moment. I find it hard to convey a simple point in English and forget the most basic words in English when I talk. It's prolly good news for my Arabic, though ... because, DEAR HUMANS, I'm starting to have dreams IN ARABIC!!!! I'm even starting to think in Arabic now!! How successful is that! Please #SayMashaAllah, though. So another reason I'm not blogging is that I actually cannot write in English. And while I'm happy starting a blog in Arabic, I also enjoying having readership, lolzuna.

Now about this thing ...

The controversies that are "women's rights" and "migrant laborers' rights in the Gulf"

The usual disclaimer: I'm not writing this on behalf of CLS or anyone or any other program's behalf. Everything I say here (and in all my other posts and tweets during my two months in Oman through CLS) is entirely my own thoughts. So don't be hating CLS if something I say doesn't please your heart.

Now....
Okay, qrratugiya, time to stop pushing boundaries, at least in Ibri. But today was an adventurous day, controversy-wise (what?). Though, honestly, why should anything related to women's rights be considered controversial? Or migrant workers' rights? Stop it, humans. 

Here's what happened.

My Omani host family

So.

We're supposed to spend every other weekend with our host families (the speaking partners I mentioned previously are our host siblings, for the most part, or otherwise members of our host families - it's an awesome system). So last weekend, we all visited our host families. We visited their farm, and I've too many pictures from that, so I'll write on that tomorrow, but below, let's talk about what the family was like and how their house was and all.

Ibri, Oman, from the top of a mountain

We climbed up a mountain last Thursday. Left around 6:20pm in time to see a part of the sunset but also in time to leave the mountain before it got too dark. Our bus drive accompanied us. Near the end, when a couple of more students were still coming down the mountain, he said, "I'm scared for those girls. You know there are jinns here at night. It's a scary place to be at." He was so relieved when we all made it back just fine and safe. God bless him for caring.

So here are some pictures. 

How we got here and details about Ibri. And stuff.

Again: I am not writing this on behalf of CLS. I speak for myself and only myself in this post and in every other blog post and in every tweet throughout my two months in Ibri, Oman.

So I'm writing this as I wait for my host sister to come pick me and my classmate/friend up. We're supposed to spend every other weekend with our host families and the weekdays in our dorms. Details below on how things have been so far, how we got here, and so on.

While at Frankfurt Airport ...

Flying into Oman from DC, we had a five-hour layover at Frankfurt airport. Since we left around 5pm, I couldn't sleep through the flight at all (plus, the seats aren't comfortable enough, what with barely any leg room and all), but I watched a couple of movies and some TV shows. It was about 8 hours to Frankfurt. So this is what happened.

It's still hot in Oman.

Abayas come in dif styles. This is one. Black in Oman

Previously in my Oman Journals series, I wrote about how hot Oman is. It's really like nothing I've ever seen or felt before in my life. Not that I've seen that many places, but still. So I forgot to note two things about the heat: I went on a run with another CLS-er and a classmate a couple of mornings ago, and we decided to leave early in the morning when women generally run. Because women gyms are a rarity here (if not completely an impossibility?) and women also don't typically run or exercise here ... I don't think most men here do, either, but the males at CLS have been given gym membership to the men's gym. So the women who do run and all do so very early in the morning when Ibri is asleep. And also, CLS has advised us to follow this country's rules of modesty and dress codes for males and females, so since women apparently run in abayas (the long full body covering that doesn't cover the face) and all, we were asked not to run in tights/shorts and to try to wear abayas as well. Many of the girls in the program want to try on abayas, and we have plans to buy a couple of them here, but we haven't had a chance yet. So I have something similar to an abaya but not quite an abaya, and I decided to run in that. Changed my mind later when the other two girls I was running with didn't have abayas on, though.

It's hot in Oman.

Sup, folks.

I'm writing this from Ibri, Oman, where I've been since last Sunday-ish. (Surely, y'all remember me blogging about my parents' giving me their blessings to go to Oman?)

That stuff aside, OMAN IS HOT!!!!!!! Like, yesterday at around 7:30pm, it was 116 degrees F (46.7 C). Right now, at 4:30pm, it's 118 F (47.8 C) I didn't think it'd be this hot. Not sure why. I mean, I thought, was told, and expected Jordan to be crazy hot, but that was nothing. In Jordan, I'd need a jacket by evening time. June was much cooler than July, but July was still nothing like the mid-June here in Ibri. We landed in Muscat around 11pm, and IT WAS HOT AS HELL!

So this first little journal or whatever was to say that it's really, REALLY, really hot in Oman. When the wind blows, you feel like flames of hellfire are being thrown into your face. Nothing could've prepared me this. It's so hot that most shops are closed, especially around the afternoon time, and no one here walks outside. No one. Because the heat kills.

Also, at the Muscat airport, there were so many Pakistanis, many of them Pashtuns. There are other South Asians as well, and these immigrants can be spotted by their South Asian-style clothing. Men. I haven't been outside much, and women typically aren't seen outside here, but on the way home the other day in the bus, I saw a South Asian woman walking through the gates to her house.

It breaks my heart to see these people, not just the South Asian ones but also the Arabs/Omanis, who sit in their shops or outside their shops in this heat, trying miserably hard to make a living and most of them probably just barely surviving. It makes you hate this world, and hopefully we all already hate poverty and injustice. Why do people have to go through such hell to live? It's so unfair. And then for the immigrants, most of them are forced to leave their families and other loved ones behind to have jobs outside their homes and communities, and most likely to be discriminated against, ostracized, and otherwise hated and treated brutally - as we know happens in the Gulf with South Asian (and other?) migrant laborers.

I'll write in more detail later - about how we got here, what all happened in Muscat, what's been going on here so far, how this experience is different from my Jordan one, what Omani society is like as far as my little observations are concerned, and, of course, more things about HOW OMAN IS HOT AS HELL.

Peace be on you, crazy-ass world.

Pashto song "Las da mene rakra rana tola dunya hera ka" - Talking Tom (cat) version

This is me singing the song. It's supposed to be funny.

Disneyland Parade (video) - Anaheim, California, March 2014

I went to Disneyland in March, and I made a few videos. I haven't shared any pics yet on the blog but I really should. Disneyland claims it's the happiest place on earth, and, besides the amount of money you've to spend while there, I agree that it really is the happiest place on earth :) I had a great time!

The parade is basically when they have all the famous Disney characters (including all the princesses) walk and dance around a specific path in the park; they ride little carts or cars or automobiles or whatever that are also themed. It's such a joy to watch! And the music ... omg. Music, of course, is the best thing in the world, so when it's loud and happy happy, it makes a person grin! 

Also, some readers can probably guess that I don't believe in princesses and other such crap. But honestly, I think Disney movies are the best in terms of their plots, except for the damsel in distress mindset and women needing saving by knights in shining armor. So glad and relieved that Frozen isn't like that.

Anyway, enjoy the video!

Kashmala Playing on the Computer - "it's my graduation!"

This is my niece, Kashmala, playing on the computer when she was a month away from turning 3. Basically, what's going on is: "Gadulation" in Kashmala's (back then a little under 3 years old) language meant balloons, celebration, congratulations. We had just returned from a graduation ceremony and had taken balloons for the friend who was graduating, so Kashamala understood balloons = congratulations = graduation :) Isn't she adorable! God preserve her! In this video, she's playing a game on the computer, and it looks like a balloon pops up and that's why she says, "Gadulation!" 

Please say MashaAllah on her :) I tell her she's "the most important thing in my life," and she angrily responds: "I'm NOT A THING!" :) Hamdallah for feminism! The girl already knows the difference between being a thing or object and a human with value.

Novels And Other Books Set in Afghanistan and Pashtunkhwa

Dear readers,
This post has been moved to my new blog over at Wordpress. Please click below to access it.

Thank you!

Orbala

Novels Set in Afghanistan and Pashtun-Majority Parts of Pakistan

Kashmala Singing "Let It Go" from the Movie Frozen

In case you don't know Kashmala, she's my now 4-year-old niece. I'm crazy about her in every way and have been writing about her since the seconds she was born (I was there during her birth - that's a funny story I'll share when I'm 52 years old, God willing).

She and I both LOVE the movie "Frozen." Naturally, our favorite character is Olaf, but Kashmala also admires Elsa, especially for her powers. (I won't mention that she also wishes she were Elsa because Elsa is beautiful, and as a feminist, I find that an appalling wish, so I'm currently trying to figure out how the heck to deal with that. But more on little girls wanting to be princesses and all another time.) She's always singing "Let It Go" everywhere we go, and people always find it adorable :) I don't blame them. The thing is, though, that when she's away from the camera, signing to herself and not to the camera, she dramatizes every line so impeccably, even almost faking a tear or so at "And it looks like, I'm the queen." But I'm proud of the following as well. God grant this girl a beautiful, happy, and safe life, aameen!

Enjoy! :)

"'We Don't Sleep Around Like White Girls Do'": Yen Le Espiritu's article on Filipina Immigrants in the U.S.

Continuing our discussion on migration from last week.

This was part of a response paper, in my migration class last semester, to "'We Don't Sleep Around Like White Girls Do': Family,  Culture, and Gender in Filipina American Lives" (Chapter 13) by Yen Le Espiritu in Gender and U.S. Immigration: Contemporary Trends (ed. Pierrette Hondagneu-Sotelo).

Espiritu surveys Filipino parents and children about gender and sexuality issues in their construction of the self against the Western white other through conversations with the discussants about identity, migration, gender and sexuality, and gendered expectations from family. 

What “American” Means to Filipina (and Pakistani) Immigrants 

The Elliot Rodger Incident: the actual problem (misogyny)

In December 2012, when a female was gang raped in New Delhi, India, the western media immediately declared (gang) rape the tragedy of Indian women. CNN talked about "the perils of being a woman in India", and India earned a reputation of being "the worst country in the world for women."

Yes, women in India get raped - but they also get raped (and killed for being women) elsewhere as well, including and especially in the U.S. But there's something unacceptably arrogant about the U.S. media that completely denies that rape is a problem in the U.S., or that misogyny is a disease and we need to eliminate both from our society (I propose we start with eradicating misogyny, and the end of rape will follow!).  

Another "poor, helpless white man needing mental help" goes on a shooting spree in America

Three days ago, 22-year-old Elliot Rodger of Santa Barbara decided to go kill every girl who would potentially have refused him sex based on his past experiences. These were hot blonde girls. Six girls were killed And, by the way, Fox News tells us that Rodger's possible homosexual inclinations are what caused him to shoot all those women. (Thanks, Fox - I don't know why *I* didn't think of this obvious possibility!)

Instead, what the media prefers to talk about is--and get ready for this--gun control. If only he didn't have access to a gun, he wouldn't have killed all those women, right? And, of course, we're being told he had mental issues. I saw a tweet earlier that so beautifully captures the problem with the way our media talks about all these white male shooters:

What It's Like Being an Immigrant

-->An excerpt from a "response paper" for my Migration class last semester. (See more here.)

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about what it's like being an immigrant in the U.S., not just for me but for my parents and other immigrants as well. Screwed up immigration policies aside (which I'll write about another time), I want to talk here instead about the sacrifices that the generation that's migrating and their children, if they have any, have to make and what kind of hell that's like. Our folks "back home" don't really get this, and neither do non-migrants around us. So let's hope this helps. Also, please bear in mind that this may not be every immigrant's experience. It certainly is mine and that of the ones I know. In the migration class, a lot of the students were first or second generation immigrants like me, and we often shared our experiences and reflections on immigration, the whole "back home" stuff, our families, and so on; not all could relate to my experience in the same way that I couldn't always relate to everyone's there. (They were also mostly Hispanics.)

On the Whole Geo "Blasphemy" and Veena Malik Ordeal

So, apparently, Veena Malik is in trouble again with Pakistan and Pakistanis. (Why does Pakistan keep embarrassing itself? STOP IT! I'm tired of being embarrassed for you, fatherland!)

Dealing with "Our Men Don't Marry Women Who Are 'Too Educated' And Travel."

As some of you might've read on my blog, I'm going to Oman this summer. (I try to go each summer to study Arabic in the Arab world.) I love traveling, and I intend to do it for the rest of my life, inshaAllah. I believe that if you have the means and time to do it, everyone should do it because it's a beautiful thing. It changes you in a good way, makes you a better person, makes you see people differently. Makes you more tolerant of diversity.

I'm lucky, alhamdulillah, that my parents have support my plans and dreams. But they, especially my mother, are sometimes reluctant about it. Their main concerns are: "What will people say?" The last time my mother and I talked about this, she said, "Don't tell other Pukhtuns in the area that you're going abroad again. Bya khalak khabare kai [people talk]." Before that, I was also told: "Our men don't marry women who are 'too educated' and travel. They want women they can control and manipulate, not ones who know who they are and what they want." Wow, what beghairata sarri they must be.

So I've a few comments and questions about this thing about how we tell girls not to be too educated, not to pursue their dreams, not to travel, not to be independent, etc.

1. What good has women's submission to men and completely dependent women in our society done for us? What benefits have we seen of this? NONE! Why do we still teach our daughters this, then?!

2. People will *always* talk shit about your daughters/sisters/mothers/wives and other important female family members of yours. They'll make things up if they have nothing truthful to stand by. Mark my words, Pukhtano. This is true for EVERY family with girls. So if people are going to talk anyway, why do we try so hard to feed their ego, their ignorance, their meanness? You'll get nothing out of satisfying them, anyway, because a) you can't satisfy them, EVER; b) they're always going to backbite you, so why even bother?

3. WHY are people so mean? What is it about our people (not just Pashtuns but in all cultures where this happens) that makes them so cruel to each other? Why can't we be happy for each other when something good happens to someone among us and share in the pain when something bad happens--and do this sincerely, not as "YES! This person is suffering! Thank God, about time!"?

4. WHY is this idea so popular that "Our men don't marry girls/women who are 'too educated' or travel?" If it's true (I know, I know - there are always exceptions... but those are exceptions and nothing more, sadly), why are our men so afraid of women who do this? Because ultimately, this is the main problem! Mothers and fathers freaking out that their daughters will not be able to marry if they get educated or "too educated" (whatever the heck that means) or if they travel, live alone, etc.? Why are our men so insecure, so beghairata, so stupid, so selfish that they cannot respect their wives as complete equals in intellect?

5. I'm lucky that I have some amazing male and female supporters, Pukhtun male blog readers, FB viewers/friends, and Twitter followers who seem to sincerely believe in me, support me, respect me, and encourage me. I am thankful to you all! My only concern, though, is ... how supportive are those same males of their own sisters/mothers/wives/daughters? If you haven't thought about this before and you sincerely support me, I beg you to please, PLEASE start supporting and encouraging your own female family members as well. They're the ones who need you more, especially if they're in Pakistan/Afghanistan, where such support is uncommon. But I want you to know, too, that I appreciate you

This isn't a problem among Pukhtuns only. A Persian friend told me that when she told a potential suitor how much money she makes (more than him), he backed out of the engagement saying, "No, a girl must NEVER make more than her husband!" A Punjabi friend told me that she, like me, meets me on planes when she's traveling who tell her, "You should stop traveling or you'll never be able to find a husband because men don't like independent women." Why do men need to feel like they control women? Screw patriarchy.

We need to change this mentality! Women are humans, too! Women are people, too! Women have dreams, goals, futures, plans, too! It's not just a man's world. And for too much of history, women have been deprived of their rights and privileges to pursue their dreams, to become whatever they want, to become something that'll be empowering and meaningful to them, especially so that they won't have to depend on others (especially men). If you're a female reading this, DO IT! Stand up for yourself! It'll be the hardest thing you'll ever do, but it'll also be the best, most important thing you'll ever do. It'll also make it easier for your daughters and granddaughters to pursue their dreams because they'll be lucky enough to say, "My mother/grandmother did this before me. She walked in these challenging footsteps before, and I'm now following her lead."

Peace!

Obstacles to Women's Pursuit of Higher Education: a talk on education and gender

I recently attended a symposium to talk about gender and education. Below are parts of my talk. This weekend, I hope to write a little blog post about some of the things I learned (depressing!!) about women in academia, in the workforce, in education, in leadership roles, and so on.

To illustrate my main point of this talk, I’m going to start off with a personal story and experience. And my point will be regarding what I believe is one of the most threatening obstacles to women’s education and success—to their achieving their dreams and doing it while having the love and support of their families and communities. Mostly, I'll try to address the double standards with which we raise our children when they are young but aren't sure what to do when they grow up and enter real life - be it by entering the work market or higher education or otherwise attempting to pursue their dreams.

On Love, Betrayal, and False Promises of Marriage - a Pukhtun man and a British woman

One of the greatest things about blogging is that you reach people from worlds completely unknown to you, and some of them reach out to you, share their stories with you, and touch and move you in ways you never imagined possible. Below is a story that a reader—let’s call her Melissa—shared with me, and I’m sharing it with her permission. Melissa is a British convert to Islam living in London, and the story she shares is one of her relationship with a Pashtun man who, despite having a child with her, lied to her about his real self and the fact that he was married “back home,” and whose family later denied any ties to Melissa’s daughter. She reflects on that experience and her feelings for the man, and she struggles, as can be seen in the email, to still respect and understand him, to see his situation from his perspective so that she can find peace for herself and her daughter. We exchanged a couple of more emails, going back and forth about our personal thoughts on Pashtunwali, Pashtuns, Pashtun men, love/relationships, and so on. I might share parts of those as well. For now, this should suffice.

I’ve changed her name and the names of those involved per her request and for privacy reasons. I’ve also removed parts of the email that I don’t think the readers need to know (blush, but I feel uneasy publicizing positive comments about myself and my blog J Thank you so much, though, Melissa!)

Before I share the story, though, let me say something else.

This is a very common story I hear - a Pukhtun man dating and having kids with a non-Pukhtun woman, promising marriage and the world to her, and then saying, "Sorry - I'm married back home" or "Sorry, I promised my mother on her death-bed that I'll marry the cousin she wanted me to marry. I can't marry you. But we can continue this relationship!" (This is so common!!! That's what the woman in this story below gets told as well by her Pukhtun lover.) Some Pukhtun men do it to Pukhtun women, too. Oh, for Pukhtun women, it's often: "Well, if you'd date ME, you've obviously dated other men before me and will prolly date more men in the future! So goodbye. Or we can just have a relationship with no promises of marriage." Or something that I, a Pukhtun woman blogger who's considered "public property" (what the hell?) get told: "I want an intellectual wife. My current wife is not educated or doesn't have time to have discussions with me because she's busy with kids and all." My response to them is then, "So educate her, damnit!" And they go, "What? Why? Then who'll cook for me and clean after me and serve me and take care of my kids and have my kids?"

It's wrong whether a Pukhtun woman or a non-Pukhtun is involved. So much for the whole "All Pukhtuns are loyal" crap. (I know, I know - it's never all, and this is generalizing, but I really don't care. I've seen and know of too many cases to believe Pukhtuns are any more loyal or better than other races out there.)

And before anyone else jumps to say, "Oh, please! It's not like only Pukhtun men cheat and sleep around or are unhappy with their wives," or "Stop generalizing!" I know it's not just Pukhtun men, and I know it's just as common among other ethnic groups. But that's not the point, and evading the conversation with "Stop generalizing" and "it's not just Pukhtuns" doesn't help anyone and changes the focus. In other words, what such comments are implying is: Let's ONLY talk about problems and things that only Pukhtuns do. ... why? And if there's no such thing as something that only Pukhtuns do, how do we talk about problems like the one below? That said, Pukhtuns are humans - that means nothing they do is so starkly unique that other humans don't share it with them or don't experience or indulge in as well.