Social Media doesn't make us 'Anti-social'

The other day I was sitting at a hospital waiting room when I realized that I'd forgotten my phone.

It was time to face reality...

I could not pretend to be busy today.

I had to find something to look at without looking awkward...

I tried the ceiling, floors, the doors any lifeless object I could see but I found that looking at it for longer than a couple of minutes was extremely difficult - and people passing by those objects thought I was staring at them which made them look at me which then resulted in me looking back at them and confirming that I was in fact staring at them. (Even though I totally wasn't)

The problem with looking at someone is that it immediately makes one of you suspicious. You get the 'Why are you looking at me' stare-back (you are suspicious) or the 'Oh my god am I doing something wrong' stare back (they feel suspected)

I decided to do the only thing possible for me to avoid looking at anyone or anything - I got up, bought some coffee and drank and looked at my cup.

And then it hit me, if I had my phone, what would I be doing?

Probably one of these:

Instagram - looking at photos that mean something to people (90% of which depict their lives)
Facebook - looking at photos that mean something to people I knew (90% of which depict their lives)
Google+ - Reading stranger's ideas and making conversations
Twitter - Absorbing news/opinions of complete strangers
LinkedIn - Looking for creative talents who are where I want to be in life and reading about them

So I'm perfectly happy to look at strangers and their work, opinions even photos online... But when it's in real life, somehow it's strange and weird? The truth is many of us are like this.

But why is this? The other day a friend of mine introduced me to a friend of his. You see, this friend of his knew exactly who I was, I had received a notification from Linkedin that she had viewed my profile (therefore saw a photo of me and knows what I do) - the friend who introduced us had also previously told me that she had commented on my appearance once because I resembled a friend that she used to have.

Yet, during our 'formal introduction' she acted so surprised - as if she had never before set eyes on me. She smiled and greeted me warmly and although she knew exactly who I was before; it wasn't until this meeting that now there has become a social obligation for us to greet each other the next time we met.

That is the key difference between social media socializing and real life socializing.

In social media, if you both see each other, there are many factors that make you unlikely to greet each other - such as one of you might look up the other at 10am and the other starts looking at 6pm - or on a different day, or never.

Which means that neither of you is sure that the other is aware of you. Whereas in real life, you know if someone saw you and smiled or not.

There are many times when a group of people would be sitting together and suddenly they all fall silent and turn to their phones - I think this is because social media allows us to select exactly who we would like to socialize with at any given point. We are no longer obliged to talk to the person who is there - we can choose from a much wider spectrum of people, even those who are in different countries.

I would say that social media simply doesn't make us anti-social, it makes us selectively social which by all means reduces our social etiquette, not our social skills.

Hospital Visits and 'Lom' Culture

When I was younger I used to really love being sick.

It was the best thing that could possibly happen because it meant no school, no homework, never being punished for doing anything wrong and also - everyone had to be nice to me, especially my siblings.

My mother used to glare at anyone who came near me or did something that may potentially stress me out or upset me (even if it was my sister asking for her hairbrush back which I had taken without asking) To my mother, this simply was not the time for that and my sister was being selfish.

(Score!)

Also, my father would shower me with sweets and anything I asked for...

It's no wonder being sick as a child was always perceived by us as 'something really good' I remember actively staying next to my brother for a couple of days to catch his chest infection so that I too could enjoy the royal treatment. I even asked him to cough in my face a couple of times!

But the more I grow the more serious sickness becomes. As children any serious sickness in the family was probably concealed by my parents so that  we wouldn't be affected by it. But now, sickness visits friends, family and very close loved ones and to say it shakes your core is an understatement.

The other day I was in a hospital visiting someone - in Sudan it is a social obligation to visit someone if they are sick, when they get better, if they got married, have a son/daughter who got married, had a baby (the list is endless) and not doing so can result in the ending of friendships or even worse, family divisions due to a concept known as 'Lom' which translates to 'To Blame'.

Incorporating a visiting system within the culture although thoughtful and sweet (when done out of intention and not obligation) is extremely exhausting for the recovering patient who sees (and must greet) almost 100 people in the space of 3 hours. The patient needs to rest, however some visitors have driven for as long as four hours just to see the patient, and therefore it is considered ill mannered not to greet them.

If the visitor does not visit, they are perceived negatively by the society, and if the patient gets too many visitors it can be a threat to their recovery as it drastically reduces their sleep time.

So technically it's a lose-lose situation!

Is it possible for a middle ground to be met here? Will highlighting that neither side is happy cause a social revolution?

I think it's worth a try...

The 'Good Girl Complex' In Sudan

Interestingly enough I decided to become a better listener.

I read an article about the importance of listening and how most of us only 'listen' to hear when the person we are communicating with will stop talking so that we may speak. The article explained that this is not listening, and actually, listening is a skill - some people are born with it while others need to learn it.

Although I had come across this idea before, something in the way that this article was worded got through to me - so I decided to learn how to listen.

 I learned that listening includes but isn't limited to audio hearing - it includes watching, thinking and analyzing and most importantly, it involves never giving your opinion as this may mislead the speakers trail of thought.

Thanks to my new skill I have come up with a new theory about Sudanese culture - The Good Girl Complex.

I have grown fascinated by the deep rooted misogyny of this culture and their use of religious text to enforce it. My greatest challenge to date has been accepting that the misogyny is not only preached and practiced by men (which although unfair would seem rational) It's the very fact that women seem to enforce it too - even though this goes against their benefit. You would think that they would be wise enough to realize that at the very root of their practices lies the reinforcement of a system that will never approve their rights to freedom - the same rights boasted by men in the very same culture... However after careful consideration and some 'listening', I realized my own ethnocentric bias... these women may be through my eyes unaware and limited, but through their own they are happy and content.

In this culture roles are very important, men have a role and women have a role and these become more apparent as children become teenagers. Females are expected to participate in chores and give drinks and tea to guests whereas males are expected to drive, grocery shop and carry luggage or even leave their rooms to sleep on the floor in a random part of the house if a guest is over.

This distribution leans towards making men protectors and women protected - and the bias comes to play when exploring other aspects of human behavior such as the need for curiosity. When young, children are allowed to play freely, but the older they get the more restrictive the culture becomes for women and the more open it is for men.

A typical good girl in Sudan would abstain from smoking cigarettes, shisha, taking drugs, drinking alcohol or having extramarital activities. If she is ever caught participating in any of these (particularly the latter) she is very likely to be ostracized from her community and her family however a boy can enjoy these freedoms as long as he keeps it secret, and even if the secret is exposed, if he simply decides to 'change' or 'grow up' he is accepted no doubt. The reasons for this are still unclear to me however the 'good girl complex' is a school of thought that reinforces this ideology.

Although there are many girls and women who abstain from all of the things listed above, unless they live under a rock, they know what these things are or they know their effect or consequences - yet the culture demands they pretend that they don't.

When a conversation came up about the effects of alcohol the other day from a Sudanese male who drinks and was complaining from a hangover, a female immediately pretended she did not know anything about alcohol or it's effects or even what a hangover was. He immediately branded her a good girl and she followed through with the innocent act.

I stayed very quiet, knowing very well that this particular girl's father was a heavy drinker and she knew very well what a hangover was. I also know that she has never drank in her life and so was curious why she would take such a stance when she has nothing to feel guilty about...

And then it hit me - the fact that she needs to pretend that she doesn't know anything, reinforces the idea that women need to be 'protected' from curiosity. The outcome of women becoming curious is unknown in this culture and therefore the culture collectively fears it.

The men in this culture are under a delusion that women only abstain from things if they are completely unaware of them and therefore they restrict female curiosity from very early on in life - women understand this and feed it by pretending they don't know, to reassure the man - and so we have 'The Good Girl Complex'

It's interesting to say the least.

Are Mixed People Better?

Me: Sis, what do you think life would have been like if we were half English?

Sister: *Doesn't even hesitate* - dunno, we would probably just have been even more confused.

Would we have been?

Everyone knows that being mixed is combining two separate races - genetically you would be stronger than both your parents, with stronger in this context meaning healthier and more able to survive as an offspring. You are genetically from two separate geographical locations, and most of the time, you are more attractive than both of those races and well equipped to deal with both the climates of your parents.

But what is it really like to live not belonging to either race? Or what is it like to belong to two races and look like neither?

I am fully North Sudanese which to most people is considered an oxymoron. Being 'Fully North Sudanese' is like saying I'm 'Fully Arab and African mixed' but because the mixture occurred such a long time ago and there are so many of us it's just silly to say we are mixed. However that's not to say that Sudanese from all over Sudan are not aware of this mixture.

Being raised in the UK played a huge role in my personality formation no doubt, I feel it everyday when I am in Sudan, I know that I am different and so does everyone else but that's more the effects of 'mixed culture' than 'mixed race' and I will post about that at some point - but for now let's keep it about race.

In Sudan people are aware that they are Arab and African - however many shy away from identifying themselves as African. Our names are Arabic and our culture has morphed to suit Arab values and beliefs and embedded within Arab beliefs is 'misogyny' - therefore you find that those with Male Arab ancestors identify themselves more Arab than they do African whereas those whose mother is Arab identify themselves as African.

It's interesting to say the least and at first sight seems harmless, but as I searched deeper I realized that there was much more to this self attributed separatism than just differences in geographical regions. With any mixed child we realize the difference between one race and the other - although your parents might not come from this school of thought, a large portion of the world still attributes one race to be in some way superior to the other. In Sudan Arabs are considered superior to Africans - a prime example of how this is portrayed in the culture is demonstrated by the beauty standards and marriage norms.

A beautiful women is 'White, and has long straight soft hair'. By 'White' they mean of light skinned olive complexion (ranges from Rihanna's to Kim Kardashian's tone) - this standard is more suitable when describing an Arab woman from the UAE or Kuwait - not a Sudanese women who is born with brown short hair of curly/rough texture and a chocolate complexion.

Also,  when an 'Arab' Sudanese wishes to marry, they are faced with great family/societal difficulties if their chosen spouse is more African than Arab - Now, this is where the confusion kicks in.

Aren't we a mixture of Arab and African? So why is it a problem in society for us to re-mix? What on earth has made these people not able to see their African heritage when they look in the mirror? And why do they shy away from it?

What I find interesting is that Sudanese people who were raised in Western society tend to feel more comfortable identifying themselves as black more-so than Arab - whereas the ones raised in Sudan or the Middle East tend to identify themselves as Arabs. It's very interesting to me why the need to choose sides is prevalent.

Perhaps it's time for a dual identity? I am very comfortable being both - and on top of that, I enjoy that I have a mixed personality and some conflicting beliefs. I think that being from both races, and both schools of thought (western and eastern) I am able to identify complexes within both cultures/races without needing to prove one wrong or pick a side because I truly am both.

As dark as my complexion is, I am still Arab.

As light as my complexion is, I am still African.


      

Why are Muslim Men and Women Segregated?

First of all I would like to express my deepest respect for any mother out  there. I did not realise how difficult it is to spend 24 hours with a toddler. Let alone do this daily! Hats off to all mothers.

It seems bizarre to me why this occurs. All Muslims believe the concept of 'Hijab'. Hijab is modesty and covering - they vary however in their interpretation of how to portray the hijab. 

Some believe it to be a headscarf accompanied by long  clothing. Others believe the clothing must be loose. Some believe women have to cover their faces too while others believe hijab is a symbolic act and not a garment and therefore it is about your behavior.            

      

Men too have hijab however little disagree on what a man's hijab is so for the purpose of keeping this short I won't go into specific details about male hijab but if you'd like more info I'm more than happy to discuss it in the future.

Considering that the whole point of the hijab whether it be behavioral or dress-able or both,  is, to allow men and women to mix freely - why is it that they often don't?

I noticed this more-so during dining parties and funeral dinners - when male guests arrive the women are immediately partitioned, even though they are often dressed according to the dress code ideology of hijab which is considered the most risk free interpretation for most Muslims.   

So what's the point in making women cover in the first place if mixing is not allowed to occur anyway?

Surely the purpose of the 'hijab' in whatever context one takes it, is to allow men and women to mix without there being any discomfort to the man or the women due to undesired harassment, so if segregation must occur, what is the point in the hijab in the first place?

Is segregation an Islamic or an Arabian concept?

Period vs Ramadan

‘This is absolutely ridiculous! Ha!

It will never happen to me. Nope. Never. These people are overly conservative. I couldn't care less’.

She said. To herself - Once upon a time when it was just a 'story'.

If you're wondering where that passage came from - it was my response during a conversation with a traditional Sudanese cousin of mine, when she tried to explain to me that women who eat in front of men during Ramadan are really rude.
 
During the menstrual cycle, women are not allowed to fast during Ramadan - they must eat, and they must then re-fast after the month is over to make up for the days they didn't fast. Women also do not pray during their menstrual cycle but they do not have to make up the prayers - just the fasts.

This is a well known fact to all Muslims. Women are commanded NOT to fast.

I repeat. Not to fast.

Yet there is a social convention that prevents them from eating in public places... I'm sorry let me re-phrase that - women are expected to become FBI food agents during their cycles.

It's rude to eat during Ramadan in front of a man. And this is not something only present in Sudanese culture - its everywhere - any Muslim country has the same taboo, which is bizarre because it is directly hypocritical to the religious teachings they are supposed to practice.

 As you can imagine, I found this absolutely ridiculous, I mean seriously, if I have to make up these days I'm definitely going to at least enjoy them now. After much head scratching and weighing out my options of how not to offend people vs not compromising my own morals, I decided that this was really silly and I would eat.

 Then... a colleague of mine, who was also not fasting decided to go to the Supermarket

Her:  'Hind you get out and get the food! I can't I just cannot!'
Me: Umm... Sure

I decided to go for something light, like a chocolate bar and a drink, basically snacks - the lady at the till was eyeing me suspiciously, and everyone was peeking... at the time I didn't understand why because they too were food shopping – but I later realized that my shopping was the only shopping that looked like ‘right now’ food. When I got back to my car I took out the food to my friend’s utter horror

Her: 'NOOO!!! Not here!!!! Let’s park somewhere remote where no one can see us!!!
Me: Err OK...

So I literally drove to a corner within a corner before she was comfortable enough to eat. After we finished the snacks my friend shoved the wrappers in a bag, which she tied in several knots, then into another bag and then placed them underneath a rock near rubble on the side of the road. At this point I was on the verge of crying with laughter but I knew I couldn't because she was so serious about this...

It was when we got back to the office that things took a turn. One of the staff as a joke asked
'Are you fasting? You look too energized today!

And just when I was about to answer my friend jumped in, in a nervously loud shriek

'YES!!! OF COURSE SHE IS!!! WHAT KIND OF A QUESTION IS THAT'.

He eyed us both suspiciously and then left the office at which she let out a massive sigh.

Up until that point I was fine. But now that she had lied on my behalf (out of very good intentions) it meant that I couldn't eat in front of anyone... I started to notice everything like how 'this drink leaves a red mark around the lips or those chips leave a lasting food smell therefore avoid eating those... it was completely ridiculous and annoying but as always I came to a conclusion.  

Even though there are many reasons Muslims can be eating during Ramadan – a women eating in public is the same as a woman holding a banner with ‘I’M ON MY PERIOD’ written on it, in public. 

The culture here is very conservative, therefore it is not perceived as a bold statement, but more as you being rude. I tried the FBI food agent thing but it felt too fake, so as a compromise I decided to just eat in private and not lie whenever I was asked. Eventually I think things will change but for now... FBI food agents - I feel for you. 

Is 'Black Face' Racist?

I'm late posting. I know. I apologize.

My life has been very busy... *coughs*

Moving on to the topic... unless you've been living under a rock for the past couple of weeks chances are your life has somehow been enhanced or on the contrary, inconvenienced by the antics of The World Cup 2014. Although I am neither a football fan nor a hater, the nature of my job means I have to discuss all topics which people like - and this is a particularly hot one.

But recently the discussions turned from amazing football strikers, excellent goal keepers and the best player being injured to racism in the stadium - and it wasn't your regular black and white racism (pun unintended but welcomed nonetheless) where something is racist and punishable... The situation involved an act depicted by one culture as extremely racist, while to another it was playful and innocent.

It all began when Germany was playing Ghana and two men, then, identified as Germans supporting the German team painted their faces black and had 'Ghana' written on their T-Shirts. This caused total offence to an African American lawyer from Alabama who expressed it to the men, but to his utter surprise, their response was not one of mockery, but bewilderment.

They did not see why he was upset or offended. From the viewpoint of the American, 'Black Face' is associated with minstrel shows which existed in America in the 1930's. They depicted white people, who painted their faces black mocking blacks by portraying them with negative characteristics attributed to them by the white community at the time.

In Germany however, black face is not at all a big deal... in fact Angela Merkel was recently photographed with a young boy dressed in black face to depict the black king from the three kings who famously visit Jesus at his birth in the nativity play which children portray at school in christian western society. Black face is merely face paint to indicate the racial origin of a person - not to mock it.

The two men turned out to be Dutch, and were actually supporting Ghana - but the American argued that they should have just worn the T-shirts, instead of using 'racist' connotations to depict their support for Ghana.

Which then begs the question - Who decides what is meant by 'Black Face'? Is it the case that because the use of it in the 1930's in America was negative that any white person painting their face black is racist? What about people who do it without thinking being black is bad? - Does that mean it is racist to not think being black is bad? Should 'White Face' be made racist too? Or should we use the positive stereotype of black face to destroy the negative association?

A very strong part of me feels that the best way to combat racism is by reducing the power that racist words or actions have. An example is that of Dani Alves, when a banana was thrown at him on the football pitch, instead of taking it as an insult attributing his race to a monkey - he simply ate it. This immediately made the racist gesture lose its power. Although I feel that this was a very powerful statement I am unsure whether or not this would work with words like ni***r - Would not taking offence eradicate a word's negative power? And if so, would this be a good thing or would it lead to us deleting parts of the word's history?

The 'Bikkah' The Bizzare Sudanese Funeral

Shortly after the passing of my haboba, my 16 year old cousin was calling me continuously. For the first time in many months I’d forgotten to make my phone Silent before I slept. It was ringing and ringing and I became very irritated because as a broadcaster, I have to be up by 5am every morning and I have to be in a good mood. 

Our house is divided, the top floor is sectioned off with its own staircase and door, and we live there. The bottom floor is where my haboba lived and so, during the summer holidays all of her children and grandchildren would come and stay with us to see haboba.

I got out of bed, and walked towards my charger and then the ringing stopped, just in case it rang again I decided to take my phone and rest it besides me not once thinking of calling her back –she was on her school holiday break and I knew that her and the other kids stay up all night and pretty much mess around until they got tired, I figured it would be something trivial like ‘I forgot my blanket upstairs’.

It rang again, this time I answered.

‘Hind, Open the staircase door’ Came a forceful voice from my cousin

‘Aseel, Get Lost’ ‘Came an irritated voice from me.

‘Haboba died. I need to tell your mum’.

Silence...

At that moment I didn't know how I felt about haboba, my main focus was on my mother who had been suffering throughout the entire course of my haboba's illness. How would she take the news? What should I do to make it easier?

Aseel and I walked up to where my parents were sleeping, I sat down next to my mother and noticed that the story had changed.

‘Haboba is really sick! You need to call aunty in the hospital’

I darted her a strange look before realizing that she was simply just too afraid to say it. She whispered to me,  'should I tell her'!?!?

I held my mother in my arms and nodded.

My mother’s response was shock and prayer, she asked God to make her mother from those who make it to heaven and then took her phone and started calling her siblings. What came after that was something very new to me. Sudanese Culture is a mixture of African and Arab heritage as well as Islamic traditions. The way that they deal with anything is always a combination of these, but more predominantly than Islam, the African and Arab heritage show themselves.

‘Bait al Bikkah’ which literally means, ‘the house in which we cry’ is the place where people must go to give their condolences to the family.The people who host the ‘Bikkah’ are the deceased’s spouse, siblings, children and grandchildren, these are the people to whom you must give your condolences.

Now, the way that you give your condolences is very interesting, you make a prayer, before hugging and crying into the arms of the person who has had a loss, then they too must cry. Crying, even if fake is seen as a sign of respect.

We left our house at 4:00am to go to my uncle’s house, which became 'bait al bikka' for the next three days. As I entered I felt that there was so much sorrow, yet there were only 13 people.  Crying hysterically and yelling and screaming. My haboba’s younger sister was crying and weeping, she was chanting 'why did u leave me I needed you still, you were my mother and my sister why why'. She said this repeatedly and paced up and down the room, her sorrow was infectious and made everyone more and more miserable. I kept thinking that she's known haboba for at least 40 years longer than me and that the pain i feel is probably nothing compared to hers. She reminded me of the things my haboba used to do for me, like hide me away when my mother wanted to punish me, or give me sweets from the secret stash in her cupboard when I was good.  I felt pain and loss, and many people were hugging me and crying.

After hours and hours of people constantly crying I couldn't take it anymore; my tears fell dry and my head started aching. By the time it was 11am, the Sudanese bikkah ritual finally began and although my back and feet were aching, I was grateful for it. We were expected to provide guests with water, food, tea and coffee continuously.

 There were so many people, the men and then women were divided and we had to cater to all of them. Some people were very astonishing to me because even though this was a funeral, they were very happy to ask us to return their tea if it was too heavy or light for another cup. Although this was aggravating I made sure I didn't get aggravated because I know that to haboba would have wanted her guests to be honored,  even if they weren't honorable.

There were many fascinating mentalities at the Bikkah, Although we were expected to provide food, there was also a social convention which meant that the guests shouldn't eat - and if they eat they should eat 'sadly'. We, as the people of the bikkah need to persuade people to eat as well as provide them with food and only then is it OK for them to eat. 

I found this fascinating and couldn't help but try to figure out the root of this way of thinking. The guests should fake cry, and fake not wanting to eat and you have to persuade them... you have to convince them to do something that you yourself don't want to do... It's almost like a game but the outcome is that you end up reassuring yourself that eating is OK. It also seems that the whole point of having a bikkah is to keep you so occupied that you no longer have time to grieve. You are just busy, all the time, and for the most part that’s exactly what happened.

I was also taken aback by the number of cousins around my age whom were helping us who we had never known before. We formed very close bonds as we worked together providing food and drinks, we laughed together and some even stayed the night. The next couple of days were the same, the crying affected me less and less and it got much less anyway. But when all was done, and the bikkah was over reality kicked in.

I couldn't really accept that my grandmother wasn’t just in the bathroom or in her room, I still experience moments of great sadness that creep in from time to time but overall, I think the bikkah is an interesting idea, and it really does help occupy you. 

What My Grandmother Taught Me Before She Left

My maternal grandmother passed away on the 9^th of June, 2014 at 3:30am.

As a young child I stayed with my grandma or as we call her in Sudan ‘Haboba’ (meaning the loving one) for a period of six months while my parents were away with my sister who at the time needed surgery abroad. My unmarried twenty something year old uncle lived with her and my young married aunt came to take care of us. I didn't get attached to my aunt because I was five and frankly, she couldn't cook.

My grandma used to wake up at the crack of dawn, pray and then she would go to the kitchen and make something called ‘Kisra’. This is the traditional Sudanese alternative to bread – it looks like a very thin pancake and tastes very salty and bitter. I've always hated it but haboba used to make really nice curry with it which disguised its taste, so I ate it. She also used to tell me that it was up to me, but if I didn't eat it I would stay young forever and my hair would never be long (the things I feared the most in life)

At around 1pm she would take a nap, she had a cat who took naps with her and I remember really wanting to take naps too, but because I couldn’t I would climb behind her and lay there with my eyes closed for as long as I could, (probably a couple of minutes) and then entertain myself with the nearest object until she woke up. At night time I used to get very irritable (when I was sleepy) and she would calm me by telling me a story about the sheep whose sister ate all the grass of a farmer who wasn't her keeper and refused to return home because it was my favorite story - she did this until i fell asleep.

My Haboba had 3 rules.

       You had to look nice always, your hair, nails, outfit – you must be presentable by 5pm at the latest.

       You have to tidy your house/room/wardrobe daily (even if its tidy)

            You have to eat. (I later learned that saying ‘I’m hungry was a scapegoat for any situation)

Everything was very routine and predictable, things were very organized, she never swore, rarely raised her voice and was the only person who could tell anyone what to do.

Shorty before she passed away by around a couple of months she started to mix up peoples identities and forget things, sometimes it was really funny because she would be gossiping about my mother, with my mother thinking she was talking to my aunt. But other times it was a little painful because when someone who used to love you so much doesn't really recognize you, you can’t help but feel a loss.

My Haboba couldn’t read or write, everything in her life was very routine, and it seemed to be that her most major concerns were the three points above, as well as where I was, who I was with, what I was doing and when I would be back home - but it wasn’t until I grew up that I realized there was much more to her than what I had previously believed.

My first encounter with her intelligence was when we were faced with a very awkward family situation – her ability to completely conceal any negative implications from the children, who were the centre of it all was impeccable. She ensured the smooth going of all situations and always knew exactly how to act. Always.

She also knew very well how to gracefully deal with liars, cheats, people who have wronged her and most of all, what impressed me the most was her approach towards men.

When it came to anyone, regardless of their intentions, if they came to her house, she would make sure they were fed, entertained and welcomed. She had one friend who was a thief and it got to the point where we all knew, even she knew that her friend comes to our house, steals from her and then leaves – my grandmother knew this, but if anyone of us pointed it out she always asked us. ‘Did you SEE her steal anything?’ – then she followed it with ‘Then let her be and do not talk nonsense’

I had great trouble with this concept at first because my haboba did not like thieves. She was very anti-theft. If someone asked for anything she would give it to them, but theft was a red line for her – she used to brag about how my grandfather would chase away thieves and was very brave, but with this particular lady she was very forgiving.

Although she knew the woman was stealing, she nonetheless fed her, joked with her and asked her to stay as long as she pleased. I later realized that the woman had an illness, she couldn’t help it, no matter how much you give her, she needed to steal something, even if you gave her $50, she would rather steal $5. My grandmother had realized this long before I had.

When it came to men her approach was very different, although never educated, she knew her value well. She was very strong willed and would do her best to honor and respect a good man, as long as he knew his place – but she had no fear or being alone or losing a man and she never needed one, my grandfather passed away shortly after my mother’s wedding and although she cared and respected him deeply her greatest fear after his death wasn't that she would be alone, it was that her youngest son, at the time 10 would lose out of having a father figure.

In Sudan it is a common ritual that every evening just after sun-set (magrib prayer time) the entire family surrounds haboba and has tea. This is the time we talk about our day, visitors come over to drink tea and basically it’s the time when everyone is in one place. At one sitting my sister brought up the topic of a woman who had undergone plastic surgery because of her husband’s preferences – to which my haboba astonished me.

 ‘Change my being for a man?’ Why on earth would I change what god has given me to impress a man? If he doesn’t like me the way I am then he can go and look somewhere else’.

I was very astonished to hear her say this because she was raised in a generation where men pretty much ruled – or was that just what I thought? Is that the generation I was raised in?

My haboba knew very well her value, she was very grounded and she was very well educated in the way you should behave and act. There was a lot of depth and wisdom behind her sometimes bizarre decisions and I will always remember the lessons she taught me.

When it came to her funeral however, I experienced a new way of thinking that I never thought possible.

TBC…

Should Mentally Disabled People ‘mix’ with Normal People?

If you haven’t already – I would strongly advise you to watch this TED talk. It’s about a woman who was told her entire life that she would never amount to more than a person with a mental disability…

So she fixed her brain.

TED Talk:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o0td5aw1KXA

Let me first start by saying that a mental disability is a very broad term. It describes a person who lacks something mentally that others in their society have. There are many different types and it ranges from mild to severe, however some people can go their entire lives not ever knowing or ever being diagnosed.

The reason for this is that we use comparative methods to diagnose mental disability. In a society where learning to read and write is not necessary, a person with numerical or verbal difficulties would never be identified, however as the world becomes more and more advanced it seems that more and more people are becoming marginalized because they are different.

The other day I was teaching my cousin for her sociology exam and we covered ‘school and education’ as a module. It was very interesting to me because I was learning as well as teaching – I didn’t realize that as well as learning subjects we were actually being taught behavioral lessons such as discipline, respecting those who know more than us (people in authority) and social skills such as patience and tolerance.  This was a strong part of the non-examined curriculum which I had never really acknowledged. Although in principle this would mean that children with mental disabilities would be treated well by other children, this is not usually the case.

When we think about these things from the viewpoint of someone like my sister, someone who has mild Williams Syndrome, the entire institution of a normal school will just highlight her weaknesses and never find her strengths – and that’s exactly what it did.

Going to schools for people with special needs where teachers are qualified and empathetic is a much better environment for someone who has a mental disability – it shows them that they are different, not disadvantaged. I feel that now that we have these institutions, we need to take it to the next step and find out through personality tests and psychological experiments what it is that these people excel at individually.

When someone cannot walk, staircases make them feel disabled – however if we make ramps available they will no longer ‘be’ disabled. I believe that everyone has a strength, and it is time for us to stop focusing on what they cannot do, and find out what they excel at – simply placing them in an environment where they will most definitely be ‘inadequate’ is the first thing we need to stop doing.  

How on earth did Amal get George Clooney to Commit?

It seems like ever since George Clooney decided to get engaged, a royal schism has fallen upon the blogospheres – with half of bloggers praising the oh so wonderfully tactful (not to mention gorgeous)‘Amal’ on how she managed to 'convince' the notorious bachelor to marry her. While the other half (who had noted him as a commitment-phobe previously) wrote skeptically about the authenticity of this ‘engagement’.

Yaaaaaaaaaawn

Seriously, as much as I would like to say who cares, the internet (10 steps to find a man, 12 signs he’s marriage material, 15 ways to get him on one knee) and major advertisers who sponsor the websites with these articles would beg to differ.

So let me tell you a little story. Once upon a time, there was Disney. Then, there was the economy. Disney said that prince charming would come along, and he would have a palace (house), a horse and carriage (some kind of vehicle) and lots of gold (Money). All you had to do to get the prince, was wear a dress (be pretty) and have some kind of sob story (be a 'good' girl), and he would find you.

Then men went to war, women started working, women liked working, the ‘shame’ on men who couldn’t provide for ‘their’ wives was lifted, and just like that, chivalry was dead.

Lol. Ok it wasn’t that extreme but you know what I mean.

Then the economy said ‘Hail THE MIGHTY recession!’

And pretty good girls found that their wait was starting to take too long… so instead of realizing that the reason that the prince wasn't coming was because he could no longer afford to be the only working spouse and therefore getting a job, they tried to chase the men themselves and thus swapped their title of being the ‘shy rose cheeked maiden’ for the ‘clingy, needy and dependant woman.’

Basically, its Disney’s fault.

The reason George Clooney refused to commit before Amal isn’t something I can tell you because I have never asked him. But what I can say is this, there is nothing more liberating than being single – you do what you want, when you want, how you want, you can pick up and leave, start over, integrate with new people without ever watching what you do/say, and afford to blow money without batting an eyelid or ever feeling guilt/being nagged. Even in your single state you will still have some things you will have to consider like family, friends, your place of work etc – but even with all of those considerations, it remains the state in which you are most free.

So if you are accomplished, free and happy – why on earth would you want to tie yourself down to someone who is just going to depend on you?

Chances are, unless the person shares your interests, work ethics, understands that sometimes you are busy, and is overall adding to your life – you are not going to give up your single life for them. Period.

I like to think of it as a swap – I would swap my single life for a relationship if that relationship is worth the swap, so for everything I lose, I will gain something and overall the relationship is better than being single.

Amal is a very accomplished human rights lawyer, she speaks 3 languages fluently and is from a different race to George…George is a well accomplished A-lister who made it big in Hollywood – being an A-lister means he got the top ranking for his industry – they are both highly and equally successful people and therefore have a lot to talk about/in common - if there is one thing we can be sure of, it’s that neither of them need one another, they just did the equation and found it worked out with a profit.

Mastering Sudan Part I

I can’t believe how long it’s been since I’ve written in you blogger.

Remember the time you threatened to close down, and I went to tumblr and then tumblr and I didn’t understand each other and then you didn’t close down after all and then we got back together. *sigh*

Yes, well, I’m back. I quit my old job, and now I work on the radio – closer to my field and it’s kind of a nice post. So a quick recap for those who are not familiar with my blog – I am a random British raised, Sudanese woman describing my encounters since moving to Sudan in September 2012.

I am not treated as a Sudanese, but neither am I treated as a foreigner because even though I was never raised here, I am technically Sudanese, which makes it much more difficult for people to forgive my mistakes when I don’t greet them properly or say the correct line when someone dies… at first it was really upsetting… I felt very guilty but mostly I was confused - there are so many conventions and rules and it’s nearly impossible to do them all without feeling like a fraud... so I discovered a way around it.

If I wanted to live happily in Sudan, I had to remember a few simple things. 1) Kindly leave my moral compass and common sense in the cupboard along with my empty suitcase for when I leave again, and 2) Don’t think about anything.

At first I was so afraid of offending people because well, it’s really just not nice to… and in Sudan people take offence very easily – But what I discovered is that they also forgive very easily too. The best thing about this place is that as soon as people realize your intentions were not bad, they will automatically make excuses for you - forever; it’s actually really sweet – another thing that they do is they accept you regardless of who you are, no one is ever isolated. They say ‘Ho tab’o kida’ (6b3o kida) – which means ‘It’s just his/her nature’ – this is pretty much my free-pass card. Now when I don’t go to greet people, they come to me because ‘my nature is cold’ and they are not upset about it anymore. In fact, now if I do it, its like ‘wow Hind is amazing’ and if I don’t no one gets upset!!

It’s all about consistency, I realized that trying to change who I was to fit it and not offend anyone was just silly because I was setting myself up for a standard that I could not keep up with, whereas now that I’ve been branded in the ‘confused person’ category my life is pretty much awesome. 

N***er... it's only racist when white people say it...

This topic has been on my mind a lot...

It started when I was 14, back in secondary school (that's high school if your an American) and a lovely friend of mine, her name was Amy, asked if I could call after Kelly.

I didn't know who Kelly was, I knew she was in that circle of about 4-5 girls over by the bike shed because that's where Amy was vaguely pointing at with her facial features.

'Which one is Kelly?' I asked

'Umm... the one near the end'

'Can you describe her to me?'

'She's the one with short curly hair!'

'That leaves 3 girls.. I'm not sure which one you mean Amy!'

Poor Amy was in agony, there was very little for her to work with because all the girls wore the same school uniform and wore their hair down that day... I could see it in her face, she kept looking at me pleading that I would just know which one was Kelly without her having to racially segregate...

'The Black one', shouted out my best childhood friend, who had no problem describing people by their skin tones.

For a moment I was relieved that I could finally identify Kelly... but when I turned back to see Amy's face, she had flashed bright red at the sound of the word 'Black'. - She also frowned at my best friend (who is also white) as if to say 'You can't say that!!'

I needed a moment to process this.  There is 0% chance that Amy was racist... So why does she feel uncomfortable calling someone 'black', but is fine to call someone 'white'...?

Is she afraid of backlash? or does she inherently think that being 'black' is a bad thing? Whatever the reason, Amy was uncomfortable labeling someone racially with something that she was not. This was confusing for me as when I described someone as 'white' she was perfectly OK with it.

When we think back to racist America, it was all about segregation. Blacks here, Whites there - no mixing. The term N***er described a derogatory occupation, whereby the blacks had no choice but to have a white 'master'.

Now, this occupation has been outlawed, it is impossible for a white person to claim superiority over a black person in any way by law - whether it be socially, politically, scientifically etc

The N word has no meaning. It depicts the past, it cannot in any way shape or form have any power to return back the old ways - no matter how much a white person says the N word, they will NEVER be able to enslave a black person.

So why is it OK in society for a black person to say the word, and not for a white person to?

This in itself is where racism is rooted. Think about it this way. In comedy, you can punch up, but not down.
Why?

Because if you ridicule someone for having a PHD, when you have a Bsc, society knows that the PHD holder is actually more educated than the Bsc holder.

Whereas if  that same Bsc holder disses someone who never went to university - we have a problem.

So does allowing blacks to, and banning whites from saying the word N***er affirm white peoples superiority over blacks?

Or should the term just be banned all together??

How to Deal with nonconstructive Critics

There are certain people who will make it their life’s quest to put you down. Some of them will do this unintentionally because they believe deep down that you are indestructible… It’s kind of like the people who used to bully Amanda Todd; the young Canadian girl who was so affected by bullying that she ended up taking her own life after documenting it on scratch cards on YouTube. 

The same people who used to bully her were flooding in the ‘we will miss you’ ‘you were such a great person’ comments.

Why?

Because only then had they realized the impact of their words.

So why bully her in the first place?

They were being mean because they were probably bored or they had their own issues and saw targeting her as a venting mechanism… but they genuinely didn't realize their words would affect the young girl so much – they also failed to note that they were doing it in mass numbers. It’s often the case that people only see things from their own perspectives – I am not justifying this, merely explaining.

This is the backlash behind being ‘strong’ or not showing when things get to you. People often try to push you until you crack, some out of pure hatred, and others, out of pure boredom because they have a genuine belief that your threshold will never crack.

As someone who has often been on the receiving end of great criticism, I will tell you this, the person I dislike the most is not the one who hates me… it’s the one who tells me that so and so hates me. I have dealt with many types of people in life and work and this particular person seems to be the one who always ruins relationships and causes tensions between people.

When dealing with critics it is important to remember a few things.

1.      If you weren't sought after, they wouldn't bother with you

2.      When someone criticizes you, (and it is not advice) they immediately put you above them or see you as a threat

3.      If you let this get to you, they have accomplished what they wanted to do, which is to get rid of you as a threat, and therefore make you bad at whatever you are shining at.

I think that the best way to deal with this type of thing is to remember that you are threatening to this person and unless they are just evil, they are probably venting from their own problems onto you because you appear to have something they crave – strength. If you keep this in mind, they will never get to you because you will always be self-assured. This means that you will never take anything they say seriously, and therefore it can never get to you. It's kind of like when a child says 'You're Ugly!' what they really mean is, I feel so frustrated with you and I want you to feel it too!!

Never get emotionally involved with anyone you do not fully know because that would be you handing them a whole load of power over you - power to make you happy, as well as sad.