A dicey step

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Columnist and Proud

I have recently been asked to be a columnist amongst almost 30 others in the collective blog Innercondition.tumblr.com.   Although it’s not a huge deal, it’s delightful to have someone out there appreciate my writing enough to ask me to contribute to his blog.

I have been following innercondition and I can confirm that there are some really great writers.  If you like to hear random anecdotes you can relate to or not, I definitely urge you to be a follower.

All my articles will continue to be on this blog or my amalsreverie.tumblr.com blog.

New and proud columnist

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Home Bitter Home

Apologies for the extended obsolete blog activity.  The Good news is -I am back!  I am back indeed with many updates and many posts to come.

Update number 1: I am back in Montreal.    That’s correct; my time away was shorter than anticipated yet again. Thankfully this time around, I didn’t get kicked out, out of the country, fewf! 

I have been back in Montreal for a month now.  Given my nature of not wanting to waste any precious time, I enrolled myself in a Master program in International and Public Affairs (Update number 2).  I must admit that I hesitated in sharing this new venture with you, as I am currently contemplating the entire school thing.  Let’s say after 7 years of being out of school, it is terribly difficult to return, and more so, to return and study in a field far from what I’ve done before.  Regardless, in the meantime, I am learning, developing another extremely philosophical and theoretical part of my brain that has been severely untouched due to my business nature.   All this to say, wish me luck and please don’t judge me if I become too philosophical and especially if I quit!

Now let me take you back to how this blog started, how this adventure began and why it is still continuing, by choice although challenging.   Quoting from my first post, I explained how “I was living comfortably, easily, a bit too easily (in Montreal), but as life became effortless, a lack of contentment and fulfillment was mounting inside of me. And so I decided to leave everything behind and fulfil my dream of working in the philanthropic field.”   

Sounds indeed like an adventure, and an adventure it was. The last year was possibly, if not certainly the most hectic and unpredictable year of my life.  Dicey it has been, a bit dicier than I hoped, but definitely a humbling experience.  I guess I got what I wanted – an extremely not easy, not comfortable and harshly demanding experience, where I moved 4 different times in less than a year.   Unfortunately I was hoping this challenge would fade by now, but the struggle continues and the return on investment on my risky move is also fading away.

Let me further explain.  Firstly a huge lack of excitement in Montreal has been difficult to digest after such a fulfilling and exhilarating journey in the Middle East, a region in the midst of a pivotal revolution, in some parts, under an occupation, and filled with a charming ambient chaos.  A region where I had to pass by check points daily, where I was harassed hourly, where everyone is accused of being part of the intelligence and where religion takes an overwhelmingly predominant role waking you up at 5 am every day for prayer.  All this making my voyage life changing and simply marvellous and making the return back to Montreal redundant and tasteless. (Update 3)

Secondly I am back home with the parents, yes at 29!!! My condo is currently being rented out, at least that is the reason I prefer to use to justify this ego destroying situation.  The other reality is that I am a student, jobless and poor.  May sound normal to people, but after a successful career, a particularly generous salary and a beautiful and comfortable home (with indoor parking, essential for Montreal winters), I am starting at the bottom, entering yet another quarter life crisis and reliving my early 20s, all this while my car is parked outside!  (Update 4-5...)

Disaster is how I like to describe this state in my life, but for the exaggerated sake of this article, I prefer to use the term apocalyptic.

And so here I am in an apocalyptic situation, trying to figure out what the hell I want to do with my life. I am questioning, my past, my present, my future and relying on my non-existent 6th sense to guide me in finding the path to an infinitely fulfilled and accomplished life.  And so here I am in a state of hoping, hoping that I can get out of this bottomless rut, hoping to get my act together and move on to greater things. Insha’Allah  ; )

P.S. Although I am back in Montreal, I have many pictures and stories from the Middle East that I haven’t yet shared with you, so expect some future  posts.

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I just watched the most endearing movie named Hala’ La Wein (Where Do We Go Now?)  by Nadine Labaki. A movie that depicts the unnecessary religious tension between Christians and Muslims who not only live but coexist in the same small Lebanese village.

Religion is obviously a fundamental part of the Middle East and has demonstrated to be a major cause of conflict and war. Living here now, I am trying to appreciate religion for what it should be, but find myself suffocated by its dominance and its imposition.

 This movie highlights my above points but somehow finds a beautiful way to make light out of it.

All at once, touching, enlightening, playful and deep, this movie is worth being on your top to watch list.

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Invisible

It 4pm, Sunday, a work day in the Middle East, and it’s time for me to head home. (I know it’s pretty early).  I bundle up, ready to conquer the unwanted cold outside. I wear my spring jacket as I don’t want to accept the fact that it’s colder in Amman than it is in Montreal.  I do however make sure that I cover my neck and half of my face up with a large scarf.  This might perhaps help me fit in into the conservative neighbourhood where I work; especially after receiving an unwanted glance from my male colleague.

I start my walk to the main street to catch a cab as I do every day. There are no young shebebs (Arabic boys) on my way so I happily don’t need to avoid their usual whistles and comments. I see no women in Niqabs so I don’t try to overlook the fierce stares.  Today is a good and peaceful day. And so I thought.

A sudden car rushed aggressively past me, carrying the usual shebebs that I try so hard to stay away from.  A sudden shout with many words burst out of the car. All I understand is “bla bla bla Ya Sharmouta” (You whore!!!).

Astonished as I am, I continue walking with my mouth open and my eyes revealing a shocked state.  I can’t believe that my simple conservative attire would draw such attention and conclusion.  I just want to be invisible.  I ponder and start debating whether I should just put a veil on my head during these 2 minute walks to avoid these unwanted and infuriating insults. 

I reflect for a second, only second with a conniving smile, “maybe I’ll wear a mini skirt tomorrow.”

At this moment I understood why constant religious retaliation escalates with no limits.

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Alone in the Wrong Place

Here I am sitting at a coffee shop in Amman, linked to Al Jazeera, Twitter, BBC and religiously following Egypt’s reignited revolution.  Feeling a distance apart, a world apart, I am debating whether I should just buy a one way ticket to Cairo and join the demonstrations. Knowing very well that my presence will not add value but rather give my mother a heart attack, I want to go in solidarity with my people.

Being born in Egypt and living there for only 4 years, I never thought that my attachment to my beloved country would be so strong.  I have been in Montreal for almost 25 years yet my love for, my attachment to and my identity to Egypt is indescribable and unbeatable.  Sometimes I find myself more Egyptian than my parents who lived there more than half of their lives.

Regardless of my connection to Egypt, what is happening now is a pivotal moment in history. A moment that could lead to a prosperous future for Egypt or to the end of what we Egyptians call “Masr, Om el Donia”, Egypt, Mother of the world.  

Although I catch myself often being sceptical about Egypt’s future and fearing an Islamic rule, I am quite amazed by what Egyptians have managed to achieve in so little time.  Overthrowing the President, the vice President, and recently the cabinet in less than 9 months is beyond impressive.

I am hoping that Egyptians can come to the realization that they can achieve anything when in solidarity and should put their differences apart to build a better Egypt.  Easier said than done, especially that Egypt’s 80 million people are quite segregate by religion, social classes and ideologies.  However, what remains similar amongst all of them is their dedicated patriotism that has proven to lead to greatness. 

Insha’Allah this will be enough to protect my beloved Egypt.

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My favourite - Mango!!

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More Souk deliciousness

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Souk visit continues

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One thing I absolutely love about living in the Middle East is the freshness of its fruits & vegetables and bread. Always a delight to walk through the souk minus the yelling, staring and overwhelming crowd :)

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Jordanian Taxi

My taxi commute every morning and evening to work has allowed me to reconnect with my Arabic culture, allowed me to understand their deep rooted values and objectives in life, and finally allowed me to realize how western and modern I have become and how far away I have distanced myself from this exponentially conservative society.

Two out three cabs that I take lead to the inevitable question that I dread to answer: “Are you married?”

 Despite the numerous times this question has been asked, I hesitate hoping that the conversation wouldn’t extend beyond a yes or no answer. Unfortunately, I am wrong each and every time.

Taxi Part 1

In the beginning of my séjour here, I was asked that notorious question. I responded initially with a definite NO (not that it’s any of Mr. Taxi man’s business). Given my Arabic origins, the taxi driver reacted almost aggressively and squealed back with great confusion. “But why?”

As though it’s that simple.

I explained that I was still young and that where I live, in Canada, we don’t marry early. He then found out my age and over-reacted once again as though it was his duty to marry me.

I got a lecture on how I needed to start a family and marry a good Muslim man with the assumption that I was Muslim and religious.

Taxi Part 2

Expectedly, I was confronted with that same question during another taxi ride. This time thinking I learnt from my previous experience, I answered, “Yes I am married.”

I received a sigh of approval. I myself sighed that the exchange of words ended rapidly. And I was wrong.

“What nationality is your husband?” asked curiously the taxi driver. “He is Canadian.” I replied. “Ah, really and you are here alone. How dare him. What a shame.”

“No Sir, he is coming to visit me for 3 months. And then he will return again for 3 months near the end of my mandate.” I explained, convincing myself that I was in fact married, to a Canadian man, who was coming to visit me, and twice for 3 months each time.

“What a shame, Haram (Poor you),” he continued, “Do you have kids?”

Taxi Part 3

“Are you married?”

“Yes I am, I replied promptly, and he lives in Amman with me, I continued confidently.”

“How many kids do you have?” assumed the taxi driver.

Deranged by the lack of respect for my private life, I answered that I had none. WRONG ANSWER, AGAIN!

“What do you mean, no kids, but why, I don’t understand, you need kids!?!?” the third taxi driver cried shocked and indiscreet.

Thinking I could end this conversation quickly, I answered that I was going to have kids once I completed my mandate in Amman, which was only in 9 months.

Once again, I was convincing myself of a separate life I apparently had.

He continued, “What are you doing to prevent yourself from getting pregnant? Are you on the pill?”

I got out of the cab.

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The Odd Hairy Ball

I work in a very conservative part of Amman. Strolling in the streets with my hair down is a simple cry for attention, although I often do it so I can buy my lunch. Every walk I take in the area turns into an adventure, an interrogation, or various shouts and chauvinist comments.  Thanks to my iPod, I manage to escape the Arabic remarks that I unfortunately mostly understand.

 I was walking yesterday, and spotted 3 girls wearing the niqab.  I was stunned by how young they seemed by their figure alone as their face and for some, their hands were covered. And there I was completely looking naked next to them although I was wearing long pants, long shirt and a scarf around my neck.  I‘ve been exposed to this many times before given my Arabic background but never understood the desire behind it, and failed to try to recognize this religious or cultural attire as “ordinary”.   In that moment of criticism, I then thought to myself: “Man their walk to the store must be so much easier and pleasant compared to mine.”

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The steps to an unknow place - Amman

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Amman Citadel - something so peaceful about this picture.

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Amman Citadel

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Marhaba Amman

I waste no time is my motto when traveling in a new country.  This motto is even more relevant after being “deported” from Israel.  Here I am on my second day in Amman, ready to put my tourist shoes on and my lonely planet in my hand to discover Amman’s beauties.  Amman has some impressive monuments and some interesting history. I visited the citadel, the Roman theatre, ate at one of the most famous falafel restaurant thanks to my dear companion Mr. Lonely Planet and I finally discovered the bazaars and souks.

I typically ran into some Quebecois guys.  They ended up being part of the Incendie production team and were in Amman filming another movie.  This could be my chance to finally make it in show bizz.   I also typically chatted with other tourists and shadowed them during the day so I can have my social interaction fix.

I must say that Amman is not a city that I felt an affinity towards.  It is quite big, modern and lacks a bit of character and charm for the Middle East. I don’t want to judge too early, as I will be here for 10 months after all, so let’s give Amman a chance!

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Back Home and Out Again!

 I returned to my endearing city Montreal.   I entered Trudeau airport and my heart warmed up immediately to the powerful words “Esti tabarouet”.  And I knew I was home sweet home.

Being in Montreal turned out to be marvellous.  It was filled with weddings, engagement parties, festivals and great weather. Most importantly I was happy to be with friends and family and happy to be dancing again.

It was however a struggle to foresee my next step, professionally that is. 

After 2 and a half month of greatness, I was finally transferred to Amman, Jordan.  I could not return to Ramallah, I was sad, I am sad, but prepared to conquer my next adventure.