Today the monotony of routine was punctuated with a fluttering of my heart. A 'little one' enthusiastically greeted me with the sincerest "hello dokotela'.
Children ... alhamdulillah . If ever one was looking for signs of Allah's Rahma, it is manifest in the spirit of a child. They resonate self-confidence and exude ... pure joy.
My answer to the 'nature/nurture' debate (today) would be 'nurture'. I wonder how long it takes before innocence dissipates and children start to resemble the adults around them who look as though they have been slapped around by life too many times. How long before society frames them into objects of docile servitude or warriors of belligerent aggression?
What does it take to hold on to those qualities which makes friendships seem eternal and enemies long forgotten?
I sometimes see men in privileged societies who are as carefree as children and I often see children from impoverished places who have the anger of men - they have experienced loss too profound to pen.
When a child compliments you , hold it very dear. What leaves their mouths echoes the sweetest sincerity and what reflects in their eyes is an innocence that is mortal.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
We are bound together by Him
In seeking the perfect marriage,
we must be our perfect selves
polishing the mirror of self-reflection
before pointing the finger of accusation
In seeking the perfect marriage
we realise : perfection is an aspiration
that 'absolutes' belong in teenage movies
and trite advice in trashy magazines
In seeking the perfect partner
we must be the perfect partner
In an aura of total tolerance
with a sweet glow of compassion
In seeking the ultimate companion
we must seek the Only One
and then join hands in reaching upward
so that we are bound by Him Alone
and in a moment of introspection
we realise that relationships are fleeting
and that some are built for this world
and that others will reign eternal
and in moments of petty discord
we realise : the Goal is greater still
and that romance is not the purpose
but a blessing from above
and in seeking the perfect moment
when coolness binds your gazes together
let these word touch your lips:
We are bound together by Him
We are bound together by Him
we must be our perfect selves
polishing the mirror of self-reflection
before pointing the finger of accusation
In seeking the perfect marriage
we realise : perfection is an aspiration
that 'absolutes' belong in teenage movies
and trite advice in trashy magazines
In seeking the perfect partner
we must be the perfect partner
In an aura of total tolerance
with a sweet glow of compassion
In seeking the ultimate companion
we must seek the Only One
and then join hands in reaching upward
so that we are bound by Him Alone
and in a moment of introspection
we realise that relationships are fleeting
and that some are built for this world
and that others will reign eternal
and in moments of petty discord
we realise : the Goal is greater still
and that romance is not the purpose
but a blessing from above
and in seeking the perfect moment
when coolness binds your gazes together
let these word touch your lips:
We are bound together by Him
We are bound together by Him
Friday, February 6, 2009
To Israel - with love
a smell of white phosphorous touches her lips
an embrace of shrapnel reminds
of the man next door
who's done this before
and then faces the world again
himself an illegitimate product
of an adulterous union
between the guilty conscience of nations
and in the womb is brooding
a foetus of men
who will bomb for the pride of their fathers
and their names will spell
the repercussion
of crimes that went untold
and the silent and guilty
will be called to order
for it was Gaza's body they sold
an embrace of shrapnel reminds
of the man next door
who's done this before
and then faces the world again
himself an illegitimate product
of an adulterous union
between the guilty conscience of nations
and in the womb is brooding
a foetus of men
who will bomb for the pride of their fathers
and their names will spell
the repercussion
of crimes that went untold
and the silent and guilty
will be called to order
for it was Gaza's body they sold
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
and I'd also like to thank... internship
Nostalgia is a flavour that can be savoured only in retrospect.
I have often (and I do mean often) bemoaned the state of my medical internship. I've often glanced enviously at my corporate counterparts, imagining the glorious salaries that they were commanding while having clean toilets to use.
Perhaps the sweetness of an experience can only be felt once the madness has passed and given way to a moment (and I do mean moment) of reflection.
Over the past few years I have met patients who didn't have the R8 that it takes to catch a taxi back from the hospital. Eight rand - that's almost a cappuccino. I have seen old ladies cry about one son being on drugs, while two sons were on ARV's. I have been moved by young, strong and able men who would do anything to have a stable job... anywhere.
I've seen how apartheid has raped the social structure that was meant to support individuals, while being exposed to a 'lost generation' , forgotten by politicians and ignored by society.
I have fortunately been allowed into that personal space surrounding a human being , and with guilt I admit that I did not always use this opportunity constructively.
I have seen certain government policies work : I am in awe of poly-clinics (a one-stop-health care-shop). I have also seen the disastrous effects of mixed health-care messages.
I have met AIDS, spat at it and have vowed to never reconcile.
I pray that the Almighty always keeps us close enough to the ground, that we may have the ability to almost-empathise with the 'poorest of the poor', and that He will open up channels for us to help alleviate their plight.
My comfort-bubble has been utterly shaken
for this I'd like to thank ... internship.
I have often (and I do mean often) bemoaned the state of my medical internship. I've often glanced enviously at my corporate counterparts, imagining the glorious salaries that they were commanding while having clean toilets to use.
Perhaps the sweetness of an experience can only be felt once the madness has passed and given way to a moment (and I do mean moment) of reflection.
Over the past few years I have met patients who didn't have the R8 that it takes to catch a taxi back from the hospital. Eight rand - that's almost a cappuccino. I have seen old ladies cry about one son being on drugs, while two sons were on ARV's. I have been moved by young, strong and able men who would do anything to have a stable job... anywhere.
I've seen how apartheid has raped the social structure that was meant to support individuals, while being exposed to a 'lost generation' , forgotten by politicians and ignored by society.
I have fortunately been allowed into that personal space surrounding a human being , and with guilt I admit that I did not always use this opportunity constructively.
I have seen certain government policies work : I am in awe of poly-clinics (a one-stop-health care-shop). I have also seen the disastrous effects of mixed health-care messages.
I have met AIDS, spat at it and have vowed to never reconcile.
I pray that the Almighty always keeps us close enough to the ground, that we may have the ability to almost-empathise with the 'poorest of the poor', and that He will open up channels for us to help alleviate their plight.
My comfort-bubble has been utterly shaken
for this I'd like to thank ... internship.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Latitudes of Platitudes
From protest to protest
from march to march
our brains in our mouths
our hearts in our pockets
we will give ,
till it doesn't hurt
and shout
till it doesn't rattle
and a slumber
will be lifted
at a time inopportune
and the people shall be sorted
and the scales will be tipped
and regret shall have no virtue
for the ones who spoke
but didn't do
from march to march
our brains in our mouths
our hearts in our pockets
we will give ,
till it doesn't hurt
and shout
till it doesn't rattle
and a slumber
will be lifted
at a time inopportune
and the people shall be sorted
and the scales will be tipped
and regret shall have no virtue
for the ones who spoke
but didn't do
Inverted Reality (more from the archives)
Inverted Reality
'Raise the alarms- Truth has been captured
It was taken across the boarder last night'
Alert the media-
Integrity was caught in crossfire
'Collateral damage' they said.
A freedom fighter by any other name
would smell as sweet
Colonisation dressed up in democracy
will be exposed
'Insurgents of reason are causing unrest'
'Let missiles of liberation silence them'
Defence is aggression
Aggression ... defence
War will bring peace-
It's a pre-emptive strategy
'Breaking news: Truth has
been assassinated,
dragged through the streets and spat on.
Its innards exposed
It's difficult to recognise.'
Morality is impotent
Aggression spreads its seed
Something is amiss-
a reality inverted
'Raise the alarms- Truth has been captured
It was taken across the boarder last night'
Alert the media-
Integrity was caught in crossfire
'Collateral damage' they said.
A freedom fighter by any other name
would smell as sweet
Colonisation dressed up in democracy
will be exposed
'Insurgents of reason are causing unrest'
'Let missiles of liberation silence them'
Defence is aggression
Aggression ... defence
War will bring peace-
It's a pre-emptive strategy
'Breaking news: Truth has
been assassinated,
dragged through the streets and spat on.
Its innards exposed
It's difficult to recognise.'
Morality is impotent
Aggression spreads its seed
Something is amiss-
a reality inverted
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Palestine Memories
In trying to enhance some solidarity with our brothers and sisters in Palestine, I dug up some archives, a piece from my trip in 2005.
With our hearts , with our souls, we will defend you Oh Aqsa... really ?
Today is the first day that we go to work in the villages. I realise that I've left my passport at home. Apparently the first rule of international travel is – always keep your passport and money on you(I'm a novice). I don't think that I've been this stressed out ... If they stop us at any of the checkpoints, I could have real problems.
As we pass the checkpoints .. my autonomic nervous system kicks (heart starts beating ,palms start sweating, mouth goes dry ...). Maybe on some small level I'm getting a glimpse into what the Palestinians feel like , having to move around with identity documents (like the'dompas' that we know) , being asked to produce it at the whim of some nineteen-year-old soldier. There are fundamental differences though –I have international immunity (for whatever that's worth) ,this isn't restricting my movement in my own country and I definitely don't have to do this everyday.
I'm thinking about a conversation with Ebrahim yesterday : " but freedom of movement is a basic human right, " he said in disbelief.
Disbelief ...
Hard to believe that all this is happening in our 'civilised world.'
Last night we watched a video showing how the wall surrounds certain towns almost completely.The only access in and out is through security gates manned by soldiers. Then too, you need a valid permit only issued for specific reasons.
According to the elders of the village that we are passing, the well that Prophet Yusuf AS was thrown into, is located here. So much history ... so beautiful ... so tense.
We pass Ar-Rabi military base .
there are military towers jutting out across the landscape . It's so out of place.
We're almost there.
******************
We did some painting at a school in the Tulkarem district. Sometimes I think that we do some volunteer work just to make ourselves feel better. Doest it make a real difference? probably not ... but you sure do feel great afterwards.For the group though ,it was a real bonding experience.
We're on the way back and we're passing another checkpoint. The Palestinians tell us to sing and clap just to provoke the soldiers.It's a really small act of defiance, but why not...
These checkpoints are a humiliating reminder to the Palestinians that their land is being occupied. Also a reminder that I don't have my passport.
Rationality, history... everything... shows that oppression won't last forever. The question here is – how long will it be and what will it take for it to crumble?
With our hearts , with our souls, we will defend you Oh Aqsa... really ?
Today is the first day that we go to work in the villages. I realise that I've left my passport at home. Apparently the first rule of international travel is – always keep your passport and money on you(I'm a novice). I don't think that I've been this stressed out ... If they stop us at any of the checkpoints, I could have real problems.
As we pass the checkpoints .. my autonomic nervous system kicks (heart starts beating ,palms start sweating, mouth goes dry ...). Maybe on some small level I'm getting a glimpse into what the Palestinians feel like , having to move around with identity documents (like the'dompas' that we know) , being asked to produce it at the whim of some nineteen-year-old soldier. There are fundamental differences though –I have international immunity (for whatever that's worth) ,this isn't restricting my movement in my own country and I definitely don't have to do this everyday.
I'm thinking about a conversation with Ebrahim yesterday : " but freedom of movement is a basic human right, " he said in disbelief.
Disbelief ...
Hard to believe that all this is happening in our 'civilised world.'
Last night we watched a video showing how the wall surrounds certain towns almost completely.The only access in and out is through security gates manned by soldiers. Then too, you need a valid permit only issued for specific reasons.
According to the elders of the village that we are passing, the well that Prophet Yusuf AS was thrown into, is located here. So much history ... so beautiful ... so tense.
We pass Ar-Rabi military base .
there are military towers jutting out across the landscape . It's so out of place.
We're almost there.
******************
We did some painting at a school in the Tulkarem district. Sometimes I think that we do some volunteer work just to make ourselves feel better. Doest it make a real difference? probably not ... but you sure do feel great afterwards.For the group though ,it was a real bonding experience.
We're on the way back and we're passing another checkpoint. The Palestinians tell us to sing and clap just to provoke the soldiers.It's a really small act of defiance, but why not...
These checkpoints are a humiliating reminder to the Palestinians that their land is being occupied. Also a reminder that I don't have my passport.
Rationality, history... everything... shows that oppression won't last forever. The question here is – how long will it be and what will it take for it to crumble?
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