sara_nash

Dear father,

First of all, I probably don't need to tell you how much I miss you.. I have a feeling that your spirit has the divine capacity of beholding what's in my heart..

I am sorry I didn't commemorate your death two months ago.. I decided to grieve in silence and to involve Gussai or my mother in it..As silly as it sounds, I feel like my relationship with you is very private between the two of us..

Baba, i didn't know marriage could be so difficult.. My uncles did not give me a lot of advices, they just told me not to disappoint them like Ayman did with his engagement.. I wish that you were still alive so I can ask you all these questions and seek your advice through all these road blocks that keep interfering with my marriage..

I have serious jealousy issues.. and I have serious low self-esteem, that I keep sabotaging my happiness with my own hands.. I wish you were here to smile at me and tell me that it would be ok..

Please help me..

I'm burnt out, physically and emotionally..

But I need to be strong..

though what I really want is retreating to a fetal formation



or better, a hero burger milkshake!

In the middle of the Guelph cafeteria sat the "exotic" looking African student attempting to study, as her mind raced with raging emotions on the seemingly infinite distance separating her from her ailing mother..

Her mother's broken words on the phone kept echoing fiercely like raging rivers of blood between the pieces of her heart..

Her mother was seeking a divorce.. And she was pretending to read primary journal articles on futile molecular signaling pathways which never helped eradicate the real roots of disease, including her mother's..

She recollects an article mocking how brainwashed we have become with reciting superficial biomedical pathways to what are really nothing but diseases of greed and social cruelty..

She was thinking of the scientists who patented these "biomedical" fixes, and failed to grant her the right to even behold her mother because "Immigration Canada did not feel like it", and wonders why no one dares to call the situation out..

She need not send her mother tablets of chemotherapy, with questionable efficacies and endless side effects that are more morbid than the cancer itself.. The cancer of longing to the warmth of family, not knowing how much time is left, has metastasized even more deeply into her gray matter.. and the cancer of her mother's failing marriage was more excruciating than the tumor pressing on the heart that lived decades to plant happiness in the souls of her orphaned children..

She kept pretending to care about these genes and proteins, as she was approached by her friend J, to whom she said: "Let's people watch"..

This was an escape from the excruciating reality of her fragmented identity in the diaspora.. She recollects images of Mustafa Sa'eed in Season of Migration to the North conquering the West with his masculine facade for his actual sense of masochismo , reaffirming his patriarchal heritage, as he denies that his need to conquer the West was in itself a retaliation to being fully conquered by it, mentally, economically and spiritually..

And she, as Mustafa Sa'eed was, is nothing but a victim of a vicious cycle of "Canadianism", and a journey through a cascade of closing gates, each one parting her further from her "home?".. He was "free" of his traditional values that confined him to obsolete notions of companionships and commitments, and like his penis, he thought he was free.. And she, like him, thought she found her inner feminist, free of Eastern shackles that would bind her to an abusive husband, and impose an endless series of expectations she carried as if implanted in the womb she never chose to bare..

And now, her mother called her from her palliative bed to awaken a new life of skepticism.. The same sense of shameful skepticism she experienced when she was told she could learn how to drive after being indoctrinated by an endless childhood of Wahhabism, locking women in layers of black as their men proceeded to the promise of the new 70 virgins, while fiercely naturalizing these norms through series of lies and intimidation thicker than these black garments..

And now, indoctrinated by the "promise" land of mutul acceptance and equity, she found herself entangled in a vicious cycle of human rights violations they creatively called [Immigration Regulations]

"People watching" was a psychoanalytical game she played with J, where they tuned off their ears and tried to read/guess the content of the conversations of others sitting at the cafeteria from their explosive facial expressions..

The whispers of gossip between two girls about the third backstabbing bitch that was once their friend, and now is the housemate to be exiled back to student homelessness.. or the over dramatized break ups, and the theatrical emotional overplays by males who brushed the thrones they conquered off their glory, and now having to depart the drama to focus on their careers..

Why was she still bothered at these scenes, when she claimed liberation, like an Olympian runner carrying the torch of feminism to the finish line of absolute liberation..

Her anxiety kept fueling a credence to continue interpretations of others, as the content of her own mind kept fogging intensely.. I'd rather people watch and draw my subjective interpretations of reality, she thought, instead of descending further into the black hole of my own mind.. She lost control over her mother's matrimonial reality, but she controlled essentially the threads of every relationship she witnessed in the cafeteria..

As if she was suddenly promoted from an "alien" to a "God" orchestrating the order of the universe.. Her infatuation with her new queendom awakening her inner Cleopatra.. Comatose, like she was attached to a drip of mental Heroin..

Until J had to leave.. and she had to sober back into her perplexed being..

Canada did not liberate women, neither did feminism.. But her mother's desire on her palliative bed affirmed the futility of the other alternative..

Neither did conventional matrimonial institutions..

Feeling helpless and frustrated, she sat waiting to inject her new dose of Heroin; another "People Watching" stupor..

It seems like I hit a worse roadblock every day I'm in this degree, and no it hasn't gotten that much better.. I'm just too burnt out to even contemplate the option of quitting anymore..

I find it really depressing that many people going through what I'm going through now have no way out but to post pathetic rants on online forums, probably because they share my fears of facing the community that supported them into this choice that they have failed..

I too have failed.. I hate how I spend every day in research, I wander wasting so much time to be put down by bursting egos of principal investigator swho can't see the world except from the narrow minded lenses of their "research projects", as if those project would solve the world's hunger or corruption..

What an awful decision I have made.. Now that I'm supposed to be celebrating the birth of my first publication, I just feel like puking at the wasted time I could have spent actually serving the communities around me, or even doing something useful back home..

I can't even complain to my husband because I know he would only ask me to keep going, and I'm sick of hearing that futile advice.. I listened to it when I had the opportunity to leave and actually do what I wanted to do with my life, that now I could have actually been doing what I wanted to do.. but it's too late..

I'm here now.. 2 years later, in the same vicious cycle, dragging myself out of bed everyday to a job I hate, and trying to do well at it, even though I have already accepted that I am a failure as a basic researcher.. My body failed completely this weekend, with no apparent physical ailments.. I'm just fatigued, burnt out and angry, that it has even affected my attitude towards my husband - the only person seeing me through this mess!

The only good thing is that I have absolutely no interest in lingering around.. My initial goal was to leave by June 2012, but now I want to leave much before that because I'm hitting a new level of psychological and physical pain..

This was the worst decision of my life.. But I really hope I see God's wisdom actualize soon..

السحب تركض في الفضاء الرحب ركض الخائفين

والشــمس تبدو خلفـــها صفراء عاصـــبة الجبين

والبحر ساج صــــامت.. فيه خشوع الزاهـــدين

لكنـــــما عيناك تائهـــــتان في الأفق البعــــــــــيد

سارة.. بماذا تفـــكرين؟

سارة.. بماذا تحلـــمين؟



أرأيــــت أحلام الطفـــولة تختفي خلف التخوم؟

أم أبصـــرت عيناك أشباح الكهولة في الغيــــوم؟

أم لا أرى ما تلمحـــــين من المشاهد إنــما

أظلالها في ناظريـــــك.. تنمّ يا سارة عليك



هذي الهـــــواجس لم تكن مرسومة في مقلتيك

فلقد رأيتك في الضــحى ورأيته في وجنتيك

لكن وجدتك في المســـاء وضعت رأسك في يديك

وجلست في عينيك ألغاز.. وفي النفس اكتـــــئاب

مثل اكتئاب العاشقـــــين..

سارة.. بماذا تفكريـــن؟



بالأرض كيف هوت عروش النور عن هضباتها؟

أم بالمروج الخضر ســــاد الصمت في جنباتها؟

أم بالعصافيـــــر التي تغدو إلى وكنـــــاتها؟

أم بالمســــاء؟ إن المســــا يخفي المدائن كالقرى

والكوخ كالقصر المكين.. والشوك مثل الياسمين



لا فرق عند اللـــــيل بين الـــنهر والمستنقع

يخفي ابتسامـــــات الطروب كأدمع المتــوجّع

إن الجمــــــال يغيب مثل القبح تـــــحت البرقع

لكن لمـــاذا تجزعين على النـــــهار وللدجى

أحلامه ورغائبـــــــه.. وسماؤه وكواكبــــــه؟



إن كان قد ستــــر البلاد سهـــولها ووعورها

لم يسلب الزهر الأريج، ولا المياه خريــــرها

كلا ولا منع النســـــائم في الفضاء مسيــــرها

ما زال في الورق الحفيف وفي الصبـــا أنفاسها

والعندليــــــــــب صداحه.. لا ظفره وجنـــاحه



فاصغي إلى هون الجداول جاريات في السفوح

واستنشقي الأزهار في الجنات ما دامت تفوح

وتمتعي بالشـــــهب في الأفلاك ما دامت تلوح

من قبل أن يأتي زمان كالضبــــاب أو الدخان

لا تبصرين به الغدير.. ولا يلذ لك الخريـــــر



لتكن حيـــــــاتك كلها أملا جميـــــلا طيبــــا

ولتملأ الأحــــلام نفسك في الكــهولة والصبـا

مثل الكـــواكب في السماء، وكالأزاهر في الربا

ليكن بأمر الحـــــب قلبك عالــــما في ذاتــــه

أزهاره لا تذبــــل.. ونجـــــومه لا تأفل



مات النهار ابن الصباح فلا تقولي كيف مات

إن التأمل في الحيــــاة يزيد أوجاع الحيــــاة

فدعي الكآبة والأسى واسترجعي مرح الفتاة

قد كان وجهك في الضحى مثل الضحى متهللا

فيه البشـــــاشة والبهاء.. ليكن كذلك في المســاء



قصيدة المساء

إيليا أبو ماضي

How I was trying to respond to the echo of my body's fatigue in the empty vessel that is my body, but my mind kept loudly racing like galloping Arabian horses..

I don't know where I'm going with this..

Today is definitely asking for a blog entry..

The mocking greys of the seven skies, the cold, which I fail to attribute to either my husband's early departure to work this morning, or the absence of inner and outer sunshine in my life, and the looming echo of my subconscious mind asking me to focus on my article on health care reform in Sudan..

Perhaps, it is my hysteric implosion at the possibility of fragmenting my own household in search of "security", that revived that little voice of the subconscious, when I know -paradoxically- that every moment I spend in this country is a threat to my inner peace and security.. It is an illusion of a home that I never felt I belonged to.. and the illusion of another end in the Southern hemisphere, that haven't felt like home either..

I'm officially suffering the symptoms of the African diaspora.. The guilt of the brain drain, the failure to be homogenized in a culture that only prides snow whites for keeping the gradient of socioeconomic evolution parallel to that of lightness of skin.. There are no scientific means of assessing our potential, there are only blind minds and spirits raising the bar, and then complaining that affirmative action has raped them of their opportunities.. But on the other end, there are deamons of separation referenda, looming civil wars and diminishing women rights..

I don't know if I want to leave the luxury of free health care and primary education to an endless struggle for even the most basic necessities, like electricity and water.. I don't know if I'm ready to land at a decision at all.. But I know I'm not willing to break my family in the process.. I think I have already spent lifetimes before finding Gussai, and I just can't let him go yet.. Miserable are those without their soul mates like Khalil Gibran said, but I found him and I fear losing him or sitting on my death bed wishing we had spent more time together..

"Miserable is the man who loves a woman and takes her for a wife, pouring at her feet the sweat of his skin and the blood of his body and the life of his heart, and placing in her hands the fruit of his toil and the revenue of his diligence; for when he slowly wakes up, he finds that the heart, which he endeavoured to buy, is given freely and in sincerity to another man for the enjoyment of its hidden secrets and deepest love. Miserable is the woman who arises from the inattenti veness and restlessness of youth and finds herself in the home of a man showering her with his glittering gold and precious gifts and according her all the honors and grace of lavish entertainment but unable to satisfy her soul with the heavenly wine which God pours from the eyes of a man into the heart of a woman."- Gibran Khalil Gibran

My lunar cycle is healing
from its long arrhythmia
I'm waiting for the signs of my freedom
like thirsty tundra yearn
for torrential rains

like usury in a Friedmanite's paradise,
My longing for you inflates

Allah's words echo viciously
as you jitter inside me
like a newborn breathing eternity
to its lungs
then exhaling relief

If I bear life,
would I long to my hollow past
as I was but a Tibetan drum
Storming like Igor in
Newfoundland's waters

or yearn for life blooming
in the strangest of places:
babies born in the cracks of Haiti
Shackled by debts never borrowed
and greeds never chosen
and roots of others sponging
our waters

or would I remain
perplexed like the unity of Sudan
or its daughters born to parents
Once soulmates,
now separate strangers

You are my security
Invade me like the Cuban guerrillas
and stay
Let life choose when its born
and let's listen

Dear Judy,

I hope this email finds you well. I really appreciate you asking how I felt about the lunch earlier today with Dr. Hansen. It was very informative and the discussion was lively, but I can't help but feel a slight level of dismay about the way the conversation was carried out and some of the remarks that were made.


I really wish not sound petty with this comment, but I did feel a degree of marginalization and alienation at the table, especially at the beginning. I was overwhelmed by the level of scientific discussion, carried by influential male scholars -debating the future of humanity-, when I felt that my knowledge base was relatively humble, preventing me from providing meaningful comments in my participation. I know that these perceived hierarchies are socially constructed, and I have been struggling for a long period of time to be cognizant of them and fight to deconstruct them, perhaps to the point of creating a level of paranoia, but hopefully I'll rid my soul of these disturbances as I move along. The other comment that slightly bothered me was the one regarding withholding this important information away from the public -with respect to the possibility of the extinction of humanity-, which in my view was an extremely elitist way in perceiving the privilege that comes with this knowledge, with little acknowledgment of our role as a region in driving the disaster to its current state at the expense of the livelihood of many in the South, and many Aboriginals and exploited migrant workers in the North..

In spite of these few concerns, I was humbled by the opportunity to participate, and hope to continue to participate and build my confidence to engage more meaningfully in future discussions.

Thanks again Judy and really looking forward to more work with the organization for the year, and please inform me if you need any volunteers for any tasks at the office.

Sincerely

Judy is a lovely lady.. unfortunately, I found this pic in the S.H.I.T list (Self Hating or Israel Threatening). She is a fantastic organizer in the Jewish community for the sovereignty of Palestinians in the State of Israel, and for that, she gets labled, and will soon be called a terrorist!

On the other hand, Hansen is just another elitist white man that thinks he has all the answers.

It's 11 p.m. on a Monday night, and all I can think about is how much I miss my husband..