2010 as JR would say gave us the chance to "show them"
And we did, we showed the world that we have so much more to us than 1st world media depicts developing countries. Ag shame, they thought that we built Sandton City for them.
Yeah, there are lots of sentiments like these so when the world cup ended and the life of South Africans returned to "normal" with residue of optimism being washed away by the service delivery strikes, morality discussions about Zuma's 21'st child (no...not his childs 21st), Malema's revival and crime re-manifesting itself in daily routine we should have known.
we normal south africans should have known that for everything that happenned , Fifa would be hailed the kings of the new South Africa. We should have known that the feeling would come to "Sepp Blatter did it " rather than "South Africa did it". We should have known that we would lose.
As we lost our belief in us as the winners of the reform , we lost the belief that we were the winners of the personal fights against crime, poverty, HIV/Aids, a better eductaion , good raods, good service...and all the luxuries that we experienced during the period of the world cup. It all seems like a mirage, unobtainable, even more now that the veil has lifted and SA presents itself to us ...bare , barren , hopeless , all greatness sucked into the sporting glory.
If anything , Fifa made us believe even more that " we deserve". Shakira now forgotten , we are no longer beleive that we are good soldiers in battle , we no longer goad each other to get up when we fall
I didnt want to believe any of it. I truly wanted to belive that the country had started holding hands in solidarity against the elements that destroy us. 702 launched LEADSA to keep the world cup spirit alive. Concerned citizens are making the effort. Rhino poaching is being dealt with, we drive with lights on to save lives, we are attempting to be courteous as often as possible...and the remainder of the citizens are planning the next heist , the next murder, the next fraudulent deal to make a quick buck.
I didnt believe it even when the news reported incidents, even when law enforcement officers were arrested for their part in the incidents, even when government officials were accused of fraudulent dealings; even then i said it was a minority.
And then my family had a hold up at home. And all my hopes faded; career criminals wanting easy money. They waltzed into our home, thretaed our lives , took what they wanted, and left. They left something in repayment for these things off coarse- Fear in copious amounts. Fear enough to hate the next person whether he be known to you or not.
11 months ago I was ready to change South Africa. Fifa infused us with hope of a better life. now i continue my tasks with less enthusiaismand i hope that good eventually overrules the bad and the stupid and the lazy .
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
Deservedly so
What a lovely morning. The first email and the first call that I received this morning ( a day which i dreaded coming to work because of the amount of other work which i had left behind at home, the loads of studying and assignments on top of that which was being deferred so that i could prioritise office work) was great news.
Two of my closest friends just received promotions. Yip, and to think that both of them have been worried about this for ages and may have even been getting a bit despondent.
like he aptly said " When one door closes another one opens"
Congratultions guys
May you prosper in your new positions and may you continue to grow in knowledge and stature.
Two of my closest friends just received promotions. Yip, and to think that both of them have been worried about this for ages and may have even been getting a bit despondent.
like he aptly said " When one door closes another one opens"
Congratultions guys
May you prosper in your new positions and may you continue to grow in knowledge and stature.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
My nerdy comments
My dear friend Prixie posted her valid reasons for needing a 3 day weekend and i couldnt help but share the conversation I had overheard in the common room at the University the previous week. I personally could do with much, much more weekend but academics tend to see this in a different light:-)
dear Prixie,
i recently overheard some nerdy ppl talking about measurement units. The discussion started off with comments about the horror of imperial units and the ease of use of SI units.
It moved swiftly, to an a discussion about the day when imperial will be defeated to the awesome SI.
Until an Imperial supporter, a type from the old school- quite literally, put a spanner in the works by suggesting that the calendar would have to be rearranged. "This of coarse is because the number of hours in a day is based on the imperial system. So while SI uses simple tens and multiples thereof, imperial uses inches , feet , and yards etc where there are 3 feet in a yard and 12 inches in a foot etc. There are also 12 months in a year so 12 is the relating factor."
So 12 hours to reach midday wouldnt be internationally recognised under the SI time frame and we'd probably have 10 hours to midday with 100 minutes in each and then 100 seconds. I dont know if this works out but ...perhaps being all uniform we will have 10 months in a year and things will become verry bizzarre.
this leaves room for wonder. Perhaps there will be 10 day weeks...and hopefully , just hopefully
MORE WEEKEND:-)
Naeema
dear Prixie,
i recently overheard some nerdy ppl talking about measurement units. The discussion started off with comments about the horror of imperial units and the ease of use of SI units.
It moved swiftly, to an a discussion about the day when imperial will be defeated to the awesome SI.
Until an Imperial supporter, a type from the old school- quite literally, put a spanner in the works by suggesting that the calendar would have to be rearranged. "This of coarse is because the number of hours in a day is based on the imperial system. So while SI uses simple tens and multiples thereof, imperial uses inches , feet , and yards etc where there are 3 feet in a yard and 12 inches in a foot etc. There are also 12 months in a year so 12 is the relating factor."
So 12 hours to reach midday wouldnt be internationally recognised under the SI time frame and we'd probably have 10 hours to midday with 100 minutes in each and then 100 seconds. I dont know if this works out but ...perhaps being all uniform we will have 10 months in a year and things will become verry bizzarre.
this leaves room for wonder. Perhaps there will be 10 day weeks...and hopefully , just hopefully
MORE WEEKEND:-)
Naeema
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Worklife
My first office was what I had expected of an engineering office environment. Designers with large screens, plotters spewing chunks of 2-D metal designs in the A0 format, complicated fabrication techniques scrutinized on these A0's by teams grouped in the open plan space, all sorts of intricate software 2 suit d need of the design. Specialists at work in a specialisd environment.
My next 'studio' was adjacent tn the offices of the first but a differemt vibe prevailed. I had missed the rays of natural light freely prancing on my sun-depravd skin, the wavelength of a beam dat made my eyes beam in dilation. This office offerd that feature of a warm greeting through an unbarred window. The people here were still not gelled as a team and work was different,more generalised,more individualised. Id often look out d window @ d trains being shuntd by and marvel at d conversion of models and paper designs 2 magnificent machines. It was not perfect here but a psuedo harmony prevaild among my colleagues. I had my window of wonder.
Fast forward to the next department dat my training program lands me in...its dar from ideal. Id compare it to a burrow ,the almost underground effect ,single passage workspace dat dat double as a meeting area -walls lind with supplies, claustraphobically closin in on my inner being- left no room 4 creativity. Everyone workd in mindblowing silence.for 8 hours.day in,day out! I had 2 escape but d window servd no comfort. Situatd insid a workshop, d window only reflectd a close up view of those long ago drawings being panelbeaten into place. Grit,noise,cold,cold,selective silence. I escapd this torture into the virtual window of my computer. I removd myself 2 friends in other countries, cities ,@ home. My escape turnd 2 an addiction. The virtual escape my saviour...fast forward 2 three months later. No office,a piece of furniture discarded by another marks my temporary space in the open plan office. I am grateful 2 hav my own, despite its inadequacies. Escapism has become a signature & through the lonlines of this frantic fish market I plot my way out. This team needs me 2 prove myself. But its nt mine. I cant be part of them. I am there on a difernt mandate. I get to
Work...headphones-check,internet-check,window- it looks out onto a barren mine dump of dust that was once deprivd of its preciousnes - the remains discarded with residue of a hope that it gave,useles- I felt useless just looking at it.
Im
In a catch 22, virtual reality has been denied 2 me- I turn away from the dump 2 face the people.the hum of oblivious chatter churns my empty belly,it must be lunch time,i notice wafts of different flavours for the first time. Noone notices me as my face turns 2 disapproval. I needed a break...i turned away and escapd!
My next 'studio' was adjacent tn the offices of the first but a differemt vibe prevailed. I had missed the rays of natural light freely prancing on my sun-depravd skin, the wavelength of a beam dat made my eyes beam in dilation. This office offerd that feature of a warm greeting through an unbarred window. The people here were still not gelled as a team and work was different,more generalised,more individualised. Id often look out d window @ d trains being shuntd by and marvel at d conversion of models and paper designs 2 magnificent machines. It was not perfect here but a psuedo harmony prevaild among my colleagues. I had my window of wonder.
Fast forward to the next department dat my training program lands me in...its dar from ideal. Id compare it to a burrow ,the almost underground effect ,single passage workspace dat dat double as a meeting area -walls lind with supplies, claustraphobically closin in on my inner being- left no room 4 creativity. Everyone workd in mindblowing silence.for 8 hours.day in,day out! I had 2 escape but d window servd no comfort. Situatd insid a workshop, d window only reflectd a close up view of those long ago drawings being panelbeaten into place. Grit,noise,cold,cold,selective silence. I escapd this torture into the virtual window of my computer. I removd myself 2 friends in other countries, cities ,@ home. My escape turnd 2 an addiction. The virtual escape my saviour...fast forward 2 three months later. No office,a piece of furniture discarded by another marks my temporary space in the open plan office. I am grateful 2 hav my own, despite its inadequacies. Escapism has become a signature & through the lonlines of this frantic fish market I plot my way out. This team needs me 2 prove myself. But its nt mine. I cant be part of them. I am there on a difernt mandate. I get to
Work...headphones-check,internet-check,window- it looks out onto a barren mine dump of dust that was once deprivd of its preciousnes - the remains discarded with residue of a hope that it gave,useles- I felt useless just looking at it.
Im
In a catch 22, virtual reality has been denied 2 me- I turn away from the dump 2 face the people.the hum of oblivious chatter churns my empty belly,it must be lunch time,i notice wafts of different flavours for the first time. Noone notices me as my face turns 2 disapproval. I needed a break...i turned away and escapd!
Sunday, September 19, 2010
1GOAL - Education for All
By 2015 Africa should be turning a new leaf: overcoming the disease, famine and localised faction fights by focussing on education 4 all. Financial circumstances, age and geographic location shouldn’t be a reason to stop anyone from learning.
When Ma Nkosi puts her three year old grandchild to bed at night and reads out a story to him, not only does little Sipho hear new words, but he hears them used in sentences so that he may begin to speak with correct diction, he learns of fantastical things which make him as a child curious, he wants to learn more and he asks questions. Ma Nkosi , could be of the millions who were before 2015 illiterate but who were given the opportunity by 1GOAL to learn to read and write. She now enjoys reading about the on-goings of the world in newspapers and even television and radio starts making more sense. She knows about the latest outbreak of malaria, what to do and who to go to treat it. Ntate Nkosi, Ma Nkosi’s husband, has also been able to advise the village on the use of their money. Last year they had a better than expected growth of crops. This was because of new farming methods which he had introduced. They made a lot of money from this and the community members are now saving for a rainy day. Everyone is happier.
The need for education has to be inclusive, keeping in mind that as much as the future leaders need to be educated, the primary care givers need to be the primary educators.
If we consider South Africa as a microcosm of Africa, the focus on education on the younger generation has failed us in the “brain drain”. All the new young professionals with the knowledge and ability to add value back into society are searching for greener pastures. The few that make it beyond a secondary education are few and far between making it an uncompetitive, unchallenging experience. This doesn’t mean that the focus shouldn’t be on creating a learning environment for young people, it means that the environment should be wide-spread and available to all so that have the ability may have the opportunity.
Higher education undoubtedly has its role. Africa has among its people, some of the greatest academics historically. Higher education forms the basis of research into the new methods for solving problems unique to Africa. It also trains individuals to become part of the population that can contribute back into society and thereby become the society that runs the parliaments, courts, hospitals, schools and businesses that form the economic thrust of the country.
Furthermore, in this analogy, poor education allowed the spread of myths. In 2002 a myth called the “virgin cure“ spread faster than media could persuade people that they were being misinformed. Hundreds of young women were raped because HIV positive men were of the opinion that they could be cured by sleeping with virgins. Such transgressions can be dealt with if we have better education.
How can education for all be achieved ? Firstly by teaching the teachers, that’s teaching the educators that will be teaching in the many learning centres across Africa. Setting up these learning centres which are accessible to adults and children alike. Setting up libraries in all the centres.
William Kamkwamba is an inspiration in the way he used his thirst for knowledge and his belief that he could make a difference . He built a windmill in his back yard during the drought in Malawi. At first people thought that he was crazy, but later they revered his ingenuity.
People like William need to travel the continent to promote the idea of education. The fear associated with ideas different to tradition will always grip us. We need to find icons to help us overcome the fear.
My dream for education by 2015 is simple. Make it easier for all of us as Africans to be educated so that we can survive.
letter to 1GOAL campaign
Naeema Kharsany
(on behalf of ReDineo)
19 September 2010
Wednesday, September 08, 2010
There comes a time...
A time comes in your life when you
finally get it. When in the midst of all
your fears and insanity, you stop dead in
your tracks and somewhere the voice
inside your head cries out- Enough!
Enough, already! Enough fighting and
crying, or struggling to hold on. And,
like a child quitting down after a blind
tantrum, your sobs begin to subside, you
shudder once or twice, you blink back
your tears and through a mantle of wet
lashes, you begin to look at the world
through new eyes. This is your awakening.
You realize that it is time to stop
hoping and waiting for something to
change, or for happiness, safety and
security to come galloping over the next
horizon. You come to terms with the fact
that he or she is not Prince Charming and
you are not Cinderella and that in the
real world there are not always fairy
tale endings (or beginnings for that
matter). In addition, you realize that
any guarantee of " happily ever after "
must begin with YOU, and in the process a
sense of serenity is born, a sense of of
acceptance is reached. You awaken to the
fact that you are not perfect, and that
not everyone will always love, appreciate
or approve of who you are or what you
are, and it is OK nevertheless. After
all, everyone is entitled to their own
views and opinions. In addition, you
learn the importance of loving and
championing yourself, and in the process,
a sense of newly found confidence is born
of self-approval.
You stop procrastinating and blaming
other people for the things they did to
you (or didn't do for you) and you learn
that the only thing you can really count
on is the unexpected. You learn that not
everyone will always be there for you,
and it is not always about you.
Therefore, you learn to stand on your own
and to take care of yourself and in the
process a newfound sense of safety and
security is born of self-reliance.
You stop judging and pointing fingers and
you begin to accept people as they are,
and to overlook their shortcomings and
human frailties... and in the process a
sense of peace and contentment are born
of self-forgiveness.
Your shoulders drop, your neck relaxes,
and you smile.
You realize that much of the way you view
yourself, and the world around you, is a
result of all the messages and opinions
that have been ingrained into your
psyche. And you begin to sift through all
the crap you've been fed about how you
should behave, how you should look, how
much you should or shouldn't weigh, what
you should wear, where you should shop,
what you should drive, how and where you
should live, what you should do for a
living, who you should sleep with, who
you should marry, what you should expect
of a marriage, the importance of having
and raising children, or even what you
owe your parents.
You learn to open up to new worlds and
different points of view. In addition,
you begin reassessing and redefining who
you are and what you really stand for.
You learn the difference between wanting
and needing, and you begin to discard the
doctrines and values you have outgrown,
or should never have bought into to begin
with. In the process you learn to go with
your instincts. You learn to distinguish
between guilt and responsibility, and the
importance of setting boundaries and
learning to say No.
You learn that the only cross to bear is
the one you choose to carry, and that
martyrs are burned at the stake.
Then you really learn about love,
romantic love, and familial love. How to
love, how much to give in love, when to
stop giving, and when to walk away. You
learn not to reject your needs or your
feelings onto a relationship. You learn
that you will not be more beautiful, more
intelligent, more lovable, or important
because of the man or woman on your arm,
or the child that bears your name, as the
case may be.
You learn to look at relationships as
they really are and not as you would have
them be. You stop trying to control
people, situations, and outcomes. You
learn that just as people grow and
change, so it is with love and you learn
that you do not have the right to demand
love on your terms, just to make you
happy. In addition, you learn that alone
does not mean lonely.
And you look in the mirror and come to
terms with the fact that you may never
be a size 7 or a perfect 10 and you stop
trying to compete with the image inside
your head and agonizing over how you
" stack up. " You also stop working so hard
at putting feelings aside, smoothing
things over, and ignoring your needs.
You learn that feelings of entitlement
are perfectly OK, that it is your right
to want things that you want and that
sometimes it is necessary to make
demands. You come to the realization that
you deserve to be treated with love,
kindness, sensitivity, and respect, and
you will not settle for less. In
addition, you allow only the hands of a
lover who cherishes you, to glorify you
with his or her touch and in the process,
you internalize the meaning of
self-respect.
In addition, you learn that your body
really is your temple. You begin eating a
balanced diet, drinking more water, and
taking more time to exercise. You learn
that fatigue diminishes the spirit and
can create doubt and fear, so you take
more time to rest... your body as well as
your mind, because just as food fuels the
body, laughter fuels our soul, so you
take more time to laugh and to play.
You learn that, for the most part, in
life, you get what you believe you
deserve, and much of life is a
self-fulfilling prophecy. You learn that
anything worth achieving is worth working
for, and that wishing something to happen
is different from working toward making
it happen. More importantly, you learn
that in order to achieve success, you
need direction, discipline, and
perseverance.
You realize also that you and you alone
are responsible for your own life, and
that you must stand on your own two feet,
let go everybody else's hand, and do what
you need to do to take care of yourself.
You also learn that no one can do it all
alone and its OK to risk asking for help.
You learn that the only thing you must
truly fear is the great robber baron of
all time: FEAR itself. You learn to step
right into and through your fears,
because you know that whatever happens
you can handle it, and to give in to fear
is to give away the right to live life on
your terms.
You learn to balance those two facts...
standing on your own and asking for
help... so that you don't just use other
people to do what you yourself must do.
You learn to fight for your life, and not
to squander it living under a cloud of
impending doom. You learn that life is
not always fair, you do not always get
what you think you deserve, and that
sometimes, bad things happen to
unsuspecting, good people. On these
occasions, you learn not to personalize
things. You learn that God is not
punishing you or failing to answer your
prayers. It is just life happening. In
addition, you learn to deal with evil in
its most primal state: the ego.
You learn that negative feelings such as
anger, envy, and resentment must be
understood and redirected, or they will
suffocate the life out of you and poison
the universe that surrounds you.
You learn to admit when you are wrong,
and to build bridges instead of walls.
You learn to be thankful and to take
comfort in many of the simple things you
take for granted... things that millions
of people upon the earth can only dream
about: A full refrigerator, clean running
water, a soft warm bed, and long showers.
Slowly, you begin to take responsibility
for yourself by yourself, and you try to
make yourself a promise to never betray
yourself and to never ever settle for
less than your heart's desire. In
addition, you hang a wind chime outside
your window so you can listen to the
wind. In addition, you make it a point to
keep smiling, keep trusting, and to stay
open to the possibility of a very
wonderful future.
Finally, with courage in your heart and
with God by your side, you take a stand,
you take a deep breath, and you begin, as
best as you can, to design the life you
want to live.
And you finally learn to smile with new
contentment.
Author: Unknown
finally get it. When in the midst of all
your fears and insanity, you stop dead in
your tracks and somewhere the voice
inside your head cries out- Enough!
Enough, already! Enough fighting and
crying, or struggling to hold on. And,
like a child quitting down after a blind
tantrum, your sobs begin to subside, you
shudder once or twice, you blink back
your tears and through a mantle of wet
lashes, you begin to look at the world
through new eyes. This is your awakening.
You realize that it is time to stop
hoping and waiting for something to
change, or for happiness, safety and
security to come galloping over the next
horizon. You come to terms with the fact
that he or she is not Prince Charming and
you are not Cinderella and that in the
real world there are not always fairy
tale endings (or beginnings for that
matter). In addition, you realize that
any guarantee of " happily ever after "
must begin with YOU, and in the process a
sense of serenity is born, a sense of of
acceptance is reached. You awaken to the
fact that you are not perfect, and that
not everyone will always love, appreciate
or approve of who you are or what you
are, and it is OK nevertheless. After
all, everyone is entitled to their own
views and opinions. In addition, you
learn the importance of loving and
championing yourself, and in the process,
a sense of newly found confidence is born
of self-approval.
You stop procrastinating and blaming
other people for the things they did to
you (or didn't do for you) and you learn
that the only thing you can really count
on is the unexpected. You learn that not
everyone will always be there for you,
and it is not always about you.
Therefore, you learn to stand on your own
and to take care of yourself and in the
process a newfound sense of safety and
security is born of self-reliance.
You stop judging and pointing fingers and
you begin to accept people as they are,
and to overlook their shortcomings and
human frailties... and in the process a
sense of peace and contentment are born
of self-forgiveness.
Your shoulders drop, your neck relaxes,
and you smile.
You realize that much of the way you view
yourself, and the world around you, is a
result of all the messages and opinions
that have been ingrained into your
psyche. And you begin to sift through all
the crap you've been fed about how you
should behave, how you should look, how
much you should or shouldn't weigh, what
you should wear, where you should shop,
what you should drive, how and where you
should live, what you should do for a
living, who you should sleep with, who
you should marry, what you should expect
of a marriage, the importance of having
and raising children, or even what you
owe your parents.
You learn to open up to new worlds and
different points of view. In addition,
you begin reassessing and redefining who
you are and what you really stand for.
You learn the difference between wanting
and needing, and you begin to discard the
doctrines and values you have outgrown,
or should never have bought into to begin
with. In the process you learn to go with
your instincts. You learn to distinguish
between guilt and responsibility, and the
importance of setting boundaries and
learning to say No.
You learn that the only cross to bear is
the one you choose to carry, and that
martyrs are burned at the stake.
Then you really learn about love,
romantic love, and familial love. How to
love, how much to give in love, when to
stop giving, and when to walk away. You
learn not to reject your needs or your
feelings onto a relationship. You learn
that you will not be more beautiful, more
intelligent, more lovable, or important
because of the man or woman on your arm,
or the child that bears your name, as the
case may be.
You learn to look at relationships as
they really are and not as you would have
them be. You stop trying to control
people, situations, and outcomes. You
learn that just as people grow and
change, so it is with love and you learn
that you do not have the right to demand
love on your terms, just to make you
happy. In addition, you learn that alone
does not mean lonely.
And you look in the mirror and come to
terms with the fact that you may never
be a size 7 or a perfect 10 and you stop
trying to compete with the image inside
your head and agonizing over how you
" stack up. " You also stop working so hard
at putting feelings aside, smoothing
things over, and ignoring your needs.
You learn that feelings of entitlement
are perfectly OK, that it is your right
to want things that you want and that
sometimes it is necessary to make
demands. You come to the realization that
you deserve to be treated with love,
kindness, sensitivity, and respect, and
you will not settle for less. In
addition, you allow only the hands of a
lover who cherishes you, to glorify you
with his or her touch and in the process,
you internalize the meaning of
self-respect.
In addition, you learn that your body
really is your temple. You begin eating a
balanced diet, drinking more water, and
taking more time to exercise. You learn
that fatigue diminishes the spirit and
can create doubt and fear, so you take
more time to rest... your body as well as
your mind, because just as food fuels the
body, laughter fuels our soul, so you
take more time to laugh and to play.
You learn that, for the most part, in
life, you get what you believe you
deserve, and much of life is a
self-fulfilling prophecy. You learn that
anything worth achieving is worth working
for, and that wishing something to happen
is different from working toward making
it happen. More importantly, you learn
that in order to achieve success, you
need direction, discipline, and
perseverance.
You realize also that you and you alone
are responsible for your own life, and
that you must stand on your own two feet,
let go everybody else's hand, and do what
you need to do to take care of yourself.
You also learn that no one can do it all
alone and its OK to risk asking for help.
You learn that the only thing you must
truly fear is the great robber baron of
all time: FEAR itself. You learn to step
right into and through your fears,
because you know that whatever happens
you can handle it, and to give in to fear
is to give away the right to live life on
your terms.
You learn to balance those two facts...
standing on your own and asking for
help... so that you don't just use other
people to do what you yourself must do.
You learn to fight for your life, and not
to squander it living under a cloud of
impending doom. You learn that life is
not always fair, you do not always get
what you think you deserve, and that
sometimes, bad things happen to
unsuspecting, good people. On these
occasions, you learn not to personalize
things. You learn that God is not
punishing you or failing to answer your
prayers. It is just life happening. In
addition, you learn to deal with evil in
its most primal state: the ego.
You learn that negative feelings such as
anger, envy, and resentment must be
understood and redirected, or they will
suffocate the life out of you and poison
the universe that surrounds you.
You learn to admit when you are wrong,
and to build bridges instead of walls.
You learn to be thankful and to take
comfort in many of the simple things you
take for granted... things that millions
of people upon the earth can only dream
about: A full refrigerator, clean running
water, a soft warm bed, and long showers.
Slowly, you begin to take responsibility
for yourself by yourself, and you try to
make yourself a promise to never betray
yourself and to never ever settle for
less than your heart's desire. In
addition, you hang a wind chime outside
your window so you can listen to the
wind. In addition, you make it a point to
keep smiling, keep trusting, and to stay
open to the possibility of a very
wonderful future.
Finally, with courage in your heart and
with God by your side, you take a stand,
you take a deep breath, and you begin, as
best as you can, to design the life you
want to live.
And you finally learn to smile with new
contentment.
Author: Unknown
Monday, August 30, 2010
International Women's Day
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Israeli mother adresses European Parliament
Dr. Nurit Peled-Elhanan is the mother of Smadar Elhanan, 13 years old when killed by a suicide bomber in Jerusalem in September 1997. Below is Nurit's speech made on International Women's Day in Strasbourg earlier this month. Please listen to the words of a bereaved mother,whose daughter fell victim to a vicious, indiscriminating terrorist attack.
The speech:
Thank you for inviting me to this today. It is always an honour and a pleasure to be here, among you (at the European Parliament). However, I must admit I believe you should have invited a Palestinian woman in my stead, because the women who suffer most from violence in my county are the Palestinian women. And I would like to dedicate my speech to Miriam R`aban and her husband Kamal, from Bet Lahiya in the Gaza strip, whose five small children were killed by
Israeli soldiers while picking strawberries at the family`s strawberry field. No one will ever stand trial for this murder. When I asked the people who invited me here why didn't they invite a Palestinian woman, the answer was that it would make the discussion too localized.
I don't know what is non-localized violence. Racism and discrimination may be theoretical concepts and universal phenomena but their impact is always local, and real. Pain is local, humiliation, sexual abuse, torture and death, are all very local, and so are the scars. It is true, unfortunately, that the local violence inflicted on Palestinian women by the government of Israel and the Israeli army, has expanded around the globe, In fact, state violence and army violence, individual and collective violence, are the lot of Muslim womenUSA. This is because the so-called free world is afraid of the Muslim womb.
Great France of "la liberte egalite et la fraternite" is scared of little girls with head scarves. Great Jewish Israel is afraid of the Muslim womb which its ministers call a demographic threat. Almighty America and Great Britain are infecting their respective citizens with blind fear of the Muslims, who are depicted as vile, primitive and blood-thirsty, apart from their being non-democratic, chauvinistic and mass producers of future terrorists. This in spite of the fact that the people who are destroying the world today are not Muslim. One of them is a devout Christian, one is Anglican and one is a non-devout Jew.
I have never experienced the suffering Palestinian women undergo every day, every hour, I don't know the kind of violence that turns a woman's life into constant hell. This daily physical and mental torture of women who are deprived of their basic human rights and needs of privacy and dignity, women whose homes are broken into at any moment of day and night, who are ordered at a gun-point to strip naked in front of strangers and their own children, whose houses are demolished, who are deprived of their livelihood and of any normal family life. This is not part of my personal ordeal.
But I am a victim of violence against women insofar as violence against children is actually violence against mothers. Palestinian, Iraqi, Afghan women are my sisters because we are all at the grip of the same unscrupulous criminals who call themselves leaders of the free enlightened world and in the name of this freedom and enlightenment rob us of our children. Furthermore, Israeli, American, Italian and British mothers have been for the most part violently blinded and brainwashed to such a degree that they cannot realize their only sisters, their only allies in the world are the Muslim Palestinian, Iraqi or Afghani mothers, whose children are killed by our children or who blow themselves to pieces with our sons and daughters. They are all mind-infected by the same viruses engendered by politicians. And the viruses , though they may have various illustrious names-such as Democracy, Patriotism, God, Homeland-are all the same. They are all part of false and fake ideologies that are meant to enrich the rich and to empower the powerful.
We are all the victims of mental, psychological and cultural violence that turn us to one homogenic group of bereaved or potentially bereaved mothers. Western mothers who are taught to believe their uterus is a national asset just like they are taught to believe that the Muslim uterus is an international threat. They are educated not to cry out: 'I gave him birth, I breast fed him, he is mine, and I will not let him be the one whose life is cheaper than oil, whose future is less worth than a piece of land.' All of us are terrorized by mind-infecting education to believe all we can do is either pray for our sons to come back home or be proud of their dead bodies. And all of us were brought up to bear all this silently, to contain our fear and frustration, to take Prozac for anxiety, but never hail Mama Courage in public. Never be real Jewish or Italian or Irish mothers.
I am a victim of state violence. My natural and civil rights as a mother have been violated and are violated because I have to fear the day my son would reach his 18th birthday and be taken away from me to be the game tool of criminals such as Sharon, Bush, Blair and their clan of blood-thirsty, oil-thirsty, land thirsty generals. Living in the world I live in, in the state I live in, in the regime I live in, I don't dare to offer Muslim women any ideas how to change their lives. I don't want them to take off their scarves, or educate their children differently, and I will not urge them to constitute Democracies in the image of Western democracies that despise them and their kind. I just want to ask them humbly to be my sisters, to express my admiration for their perseverance and for their courage to carry on, to have children and to maintain a dignified family life in spite of the impossible conditions my world is putting them in. I want to tell them we are all bonded by the same pain, we are all the victims of the same sort of violence even though they suffer much more, for they are the ones who are mistreated by my government and its army, sponsored by my taxes.
Islam in itself, like Judaism in itself and Christianity in itself, is not a threat to me or to anyone. American imperialism is, European indifference and co-operation is and Israeli racism and its cruel regime of occupation is. It is racism, educational propaganda and inculcated xenophobia that convince Israeli soldiers to order Palestinian women at gun-point, to strip in front of their children for security reasons, it is the deepest disrespect for the other that allow American soldiers to rape Iraqi women, that give license to Israeli jailers to keep young women in inhuman conditions, without necessary hygienic aids, without electricity in the winter, without clean water or clean mattresses and to separate them from their breast-fed babies and toddlers. To bar their way to hospitals, to block their way to education, to confiscate their lands, to uproot their trees and prevent them from cultivating their fields.
I cannot completely understand Palestinian women or their suffering. I don't know how I would have survived such humiliation, such disrespect from the whole world. All I know is that the voice of mothers has been suffocated for too long in this war-stricken planet. Mothers' cry is not heard because mothers are not invited to international forums such as this one. This I know and it is very little. But it is enough for me to remember these women are my sisters, and that they deserve that I should cry for them, and fight for them. And when they lose their children in strawberry fields or on filthy roads by the checkpoints, when their children are shot on their way to school by Israeli children who were educated to believe that love and compassion are race and religion dependent, the only thing I can do is stand by them and their betrayed babies, and ask what Anna Akhmatova - another mother who lived in a regime of violence against women and children - asked: Why does that streak of blood, rip the petal of your cheek?!
Israeli mother adresses European Parliament
Dr. Nurit Peled-Elhanan is the mother of Smadar Elhanan, 13 years old when killed by a suicide bomber in Jerusalem in September 1997. Below is Nurit's speech made on International Women's Day in Strasbourg earlier this month. Please listen to the words of a bereaved mother,whose daughter fell victim to a vicious, indiscriminating terrorist attack.
The speech:
Thank you for inviting me to this today. It is always an honour and a pleasure to be here, among you (at the European Parliament). However, I must admit I believe you should have invited a Palestinian woman in my stead, because the women who suffer most from violence in my county are the Palestinian women. And I would like to dedicate my speech to Miriam R`aban and her husband Kamal, from Bet Lahiya in the Gaza strip, whose five small children were killed by
Israeli soldiers while picking strawberries at the family`s strawberry field. No one will ever stand trial for this murder. When I asked the people who invited me here why didn't they invite a Palestinian woman, the answer was that it would make the discussion too localized.
I don't know what is non-localized violence. Racism and discrimination may be theoretical concepts and universal phenomena but their impact is always local, and real. Pain is local, humiliation, sexual abuse, torture and death, are all very local, and so are the scars. It is true, unfortunately, that the local violence inflicted on Palestinian women by the government of Israel and the Israeli army, has expanded around the globe, In fact, state violence and army violence, individual and collective violence, are the lot of Muslim womenUSA. This is because the so-called free world is afraid of the Muslim womb.
Great France of "la liberte egalite et la fraternite" is scared of little girls with head scarves. Great Jewish Israel is afraid of the Muslim womb which its ministers call a demographic threat. Almighty America and Great Britain are infecting their respective citizens with blind fear of the Muslims, who are depicted as vile, primitive and blood-thirsty, apart from their being non-democratic, chauvinistic and mass producers of future terrorists. This in spite of the fact that the people who are destroying the world today are not Muslim. One of them is a devout Christian, one is Anglican and one is a non-devout Jew.
I have never experienced the suffering Palestinian women undergo every day, every hour, I don't know the kind of violence that turns a woman's life into constant hell. This daily physical and mental torture of women who are deprived of their basic human rights and needs of privacy and dignity, women whose homes are broken into at any moment of day and night, who are ordered at a gun-point to strip naked in front of strangers and their own children, whose houses are demolished, who are deprived of their livelihood and of any normal family life. This is not part of my personal ordeal.
But I am a victim of violence against women insofar as violence against children is actually violence against mothers. Palestinian, Iraqi, Afghan women are my sisters because we are all at the grip of the same unscrupulous criminals who call themselves leaders of the free enlightened world and in the name of this freedom and enlightenment rob us of our children. Furthermore, Israeli, American, Italian and British mothers have been for the most part violently blinded and brainwashed to such a degree that they cannot realize their only sisters, their only allies in the world are the Muslim Palestinian, Iraqi or Afghani mothers, whose children are killed by our children or who blow themselves to pieces with our sons and daughters. They are all mind-infected by the same viruses engendered by politicians. And the viruses , though they may have various illustrious names-such as Democracy, Patriotism, God, Homeland-are all the same. They are all part of false and fake ideologies that are meant to enrich the rich and to empower the powerful.
We are all the victims of mental, psychological and cultural violence that turn us to one homogenic group of bereaved or potentially bereaved mothers. Western mothers who are taught to believe their uterus is a national asset just like they are taught to believe that the Muslim uterus is an international threat. They are educated not to cry out: 'I gave him birth, I breast fed him, he is mine, and I will not let him be the one whose life is cheaper than oil, whose future is less worth than a piece of land.' All of us are terrorized by mind-infecting education to believe all we can do is either pray for our sons to come back home or be proud of their dead bodies. And all of us were brought up to bear all this silently, to contain our fear and frustration, to take Prozac for anxiety, but never hail Mama Courage in public. Never be real Jewish or Italian or Irish mothers.
I am a victim of state violence. My natural and civil rights as a mother have been violated and are violated because I have to fear the day my son would reach his 18th birthday and be taken away from me to be the game tool of criminals such as Sharon, Bush, Blair and their clan of blood-thirsty, oil-thirsty, land thirsty generals. Living in the world I live in, in the state I live in, in the regime I live in, I don't dare to offer Muslim women any ideas how to change their lives. I don't want them to take off their scarves, or educate their children differently, and I will not urge them to constitute Democracies in the image of Western democracies that despise them and their kind. I just want to ask them humbly to be my sisters, to express my admiration for their perseverance and for their courage to carry on, to have children and to maintain a dignified family life in spite of the impossible conditions my world is putting them in. I want to tell them we are all bonded by the same pain, we are all the victims of the same sort of violence even though they suffer much more, for they are the ones who are mistreated by my government and its army, sponsored by my taxes.
Islam in itself, like Judaism in itself and Christianity in itself, is not a threat to me or to anyone. American imperialism is, European indifference and co-operation is and Israeli racism and its cruel regime of occupation is. It is racism, educational propaganda and inculcated xenophobia that convince Israeli soldiers to order Palestinian women at gun-point, to strip in front of their children for security reasons, it is the deepest disrespect for the other that allow American soldiers to rape Iraqi women, that give license to Israeli jailers to keep young women in inhuman conditions, without necessary hygienic aids, without electricity in the winter, without clean water or clean mattresses and to separate them from their breast-fed babies and toddlers. To bar their way to hospitals, to block their way to education, to confiscate their lands, to uproot their trees and prevent them from cultivating their fields.
I cannot completely understand Palestinian women or their suffering. I don't know how I would have survived such humiliation, such disrespect from the whole world. All I know is that the voice of mothers has been suffocated for too long in this war-stricken planet. Mothers' cry is not heard because mothers are not invited to international forums such as this one. This I know and it is very little. But it is enough for me to remember these women are my sisters, and that they deserve that I should cry for them, and fight for them. And when they lose their children in strawberry fields or on filthy roads by the checkpoints, when their children are shot on their way to school by Israeli children who were educated to believe that love and compassion are race and religion dependent, the only thing I can do is stand by them and their betrayed babies, and ask what Anna Akhmatova - another mother who lived in a regime of violence against women and children - asked: Why does that streak of blood, rip the petal of your cheek?!
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