Me and My Mom

Three days before my mom comes to visit me I think its about time to give her the recognition and shout out she more than deserves. I’ve written previously about my father and his absence in my life, but whats made me who I am today is my mom and her presence.

My mom and I are incredibly alike, and I say that with the utmost pride because I think my mom is an awesome human being. If there is anyone I’d ever want to be like, its her. We look a lot alike, we sound a lot alike, and we think a lot alike.

When my father left us she had to pick up the pieces. Not only did she have to deal with her own emotional fall-out but she did everything she could to shield me from the pain as well. She picked herself up, sent me down to Arizona to be with my grandparent’s,  packed up our house,and moved us into her mom’s house while I was away. After that she moved us from Minnesota to Wisconsin and began studying to be a nurse, her life-long dream. Being so young I never understood exactly what my mom sacrificed to support me; she was a full-time student, a full-time employee (or sometimes only a 3/4 time employee), and a full-time mom. Sure I was a latch-key kid but looking back I don’t think I really missed out on having a mom because she was always there when I needed her.

Every summer she would send me back to Minnesota, and what I never saw but she told me later is that during those summers she would find and work every part-time paying job she could find, even working in a cheese factory on a factory line, in order to save up extra money for the coming school-year. There were many lean years, one Christmas there wasn’t enough money for Christmas gifts and our name was put on a list at our church and one of the families filled the space under our Christmas tree. During these years my father did nothing to help us, didn’t send money, didn’t send gifts, I don’t ever really remember him even calling me; mom took his place and she made a pretty darn good father as well. What we lacked in material things we made up for in love. That sounds sappy and cliche but it really was true.

I hated Wisconsin for a myriad of reasons, and even though she loved the community there and the church we attended she moved us back to Minnesota as soon as she graduated from Nursing school because she knew I wanted to go home. I was a horrible pain in the ass those years, but every kid goes through those. I know she hasn’t found a church that she loves as much as she loved Christ the Rock, and it makes me sad. I can’t really say that I miss Wisconsin though… there’s that selfish kid again I suppose.

We moved back to my home town because I had this silly idea that I wanted to go back to the only place I remember being happy, Forest Lake. My mom commuted into the Twin Cities every night for her night shift at the hospital and she would drive home 45 minutes tired and sleepy, so that I could be back in FL. I know she’s going to say that she did it as well because the rent was cheaper up there, but she did it for me.

So many things that she’s done in life, she done for me. I can only pray that I am as good and selfless as a mother for my own children one day as my mother has been for me.

We’ve had our hard time, our hard years. We’ve had our share of huge fights- what mother-daughter relationship hasn’t? But I can honestly say she is my best friend.

When I converted to Islam the one person I really thought about it impacting, and feeling bad about it, was my mom. I am an only child and so my mom doesn’t have any other chance of grandchildren except through me (and possibly if she marries again to a man with children of his own but that wouldn’t be the same) and it makes me feel sad that all the religiously-tinted things she did for me like Easter baskets won’t be the same if we have them at all.

But she’s the first person I told out of the family, the only one who knew (for certain) for months if not years before anyone else. In fact my mom knew at least a year before I even told Oogie who is one of my best friends. And she knew me so well. When I told her, the morning I was driving her to surgery, before I even told her she said, “don’t tell me… you’re Muslim.”

And after that she’s been my biggest support, sure she was disappointed being a firm born-again Christian herself, and we try to avoid getting too in-depth about religious differences, but despite these things she is my biggest defendant. When family or acquaintances of the family malign my choice in religion she defends me, and she has even defended Islam against pre-conceived misconceptions when she knows what the truth is. And she is my biggest cheerleader as well, when I moved to Arizona she whole-heartedly supported me, and when I moved here to Egypt she again whole-heartedly supported me and she continues to support me in every way she can. About once a month she packs up a care package to send to me from home filled with goodies and gifts, sweets, necessities, shoes for my poor plantar-faciitised feet, and things for my husband and his family. On Eid el Fitr she sent two packages with extra gifts for my husband’s family. One cannot imagine just how much her support and gifts have kept me sane while here. In fact, how much her support has kept me sane in life.

Almost everyone who knows my mom says to me, “wow, you’re mom is really cool.” And I smile and nod because I know that what they saw is only the tip of the iceberg on how wonderful she really is.

My friend Rahma, a convert like me, met my mom the other day and she sent me an email that said, “Your mom is very cool. You’re so lucky to have someone so understanding.”

I am lucky. So, so, so lucky that I got her as a mom. I couldn’t have asked for a better person to have been born to. So when people say that we’re alike, I say thank you.

Cuz my mom is the coolest person in the world.

I love you mom.

Merry Christmas

To all of my family, I miss you all so very, very much.

I have made it through these two days with only being extremely moody and only having had one uncontrollable crying fit brought on by nothing more than Zuzu trying to jump up to sit on my shoulder as I lay on the couch being moody and accidentally scratching my chin when she missed. Its funny the little things that break the camel’s back.

Work has been a little crazy, trying to finish things up before my mom comes so I haven’t had much time to do anything luxurious like write blogs.

Coming back from a meeting I found that my oldest neice (who speaks little English) left a message on my msn:

h says:
Good afternoon <3
h says:
ilove you very much

Its nice to remember that there are (hold on let me count) 15 good reasons to enjoy living in Egypt close enough that I can go visit all of them.

Sixteen if you count Mr MM but he’s part and parcel anyways. Where he goes I go and vise versa.

Happy Holidays.

Footsore

I need a car, seriously. Its not about the walking, thats really not too much of an issue. Yes I have developed incredibly painful plantar fasciitis*, especially in my right foot, which makes my mornings excruciating and often causes me pain in the evenings, but I think walking is good and healthy.

But the time, and the effort, and the money it costs to take taxis back and forth from work is over the top.

Do any of you, my readers, know of someone in Egypt who will be putting their car into storage, or does not currently use their car, who would be open to renting the car to my husband and I on a monthly basis?

We don’t want to buy a car as our stay in Egypt (inshAllah) is not permanent and we don’t want to go through the hassle of trying to sell the car again when we leave.

It would be so appreciated if you could help us out.

Thank you!

* For anyone who is planning to move to Egypt you need to know that shoes here, even super expensive ones, DO NOT have arch support. At all. Zip. None. Its incredibly frustrating as I have very defined arches and need good arch and heel support. I have never suffered from PF before I moved here, and I actually had no idea what was causing me such pain until I asked my mom. Its excruciating to walk when I first get up in the morning, and if I walked a lot during the day then after sitting down for awhile, to get up again is so very painful. It really is no joke, it hurts. I feel like I’m 100 years old hobbling around and groaning in pain.

Don’t leave your good walking shoes behind with the idea that you will buy shoes for cheaper in Egypt. Yes, they’re cheaper, but so much more expensive in other ways.

I can’t make this up…

*We are having a spate of good internet so I’m making use of it.

I giggle at a lot of the CV’s I am sent and the attempts made to write in English that more often end up sounding very silly; but mostly I feel bad for the authors. It sucks that in order to make the big bucks in a company you must speak a language foreign to your own.

Imagine, for a second, that in order to do any of your white-collar jobs and make a decent wage in the United States you absolutely had to speak, say, Spanish. Fluently. And if you didn’t you were condemned to more menial tasks, lesser wages, and a limited upward mobility.

The US has no official government language, but of course unofficially the main language, the language you have to speak, is English. No foreign languages necessary unless explicitly stated. Egypt HAS an official language, Arabic, but most high level jobs expect the workers to speak English, or German, or even sometimes French.

I received a CV recently with this cover letter:

Why This Jop?

Why not !!!!

Becouse I have a very good experience to how to manage the filds and net works and people under me ( how to manage the work ).

How to suppourt people and agancis Middel East And World Wide also.

“Have a good experience in the service contract”.

Presantations Skills.

Mange the work and the purchasing.

Manage the meetings.

Manag the employs.

Work under streses

Relationship skills.

Have a good network knowledg.

I haven’t changed a thing in the cover letter. Of course it makes me giggle, of course it sounds clownish to us, but understand the earnestness with which this letter was written, the hopes, the dreams, the desires embedded in it. The author probably spent hours agonizing over every word choice.

And it makes me sadder to know that if I attempted to call this person I would have a hard time communicating with him, and that means that I cannot and will not hire him.

Internetting FAIL

All internet to the Middle East is tenuously supplied by one choice underground cable that runs under the Med Sea from Europe; actually from Italy to be exact. Around this time last year that cable was cut and it knocked the Mid East off the internet for a good week.

Apparently again that same cable has been cut off the coast of Italy and whoopsy daisy here we are again without internet. The internet companies in Egypt are now relying on satellite internet which means that the net is very, very, v e r y s l o w. I’m at work with a 36 minute wait on downloading my emails.

This is 1990’s dial-up slow.

Thank God for DSL. Well, at least when we have it again.

I’m wondering why something wasn’t done after all the knee-jerk reaction talks in response to the cable-fiasco last year…

And how does one really actually cut a deeply embedded underground cable lying even yet more deeply underwater? Its not like someone was digging a backyard pool and accidentally snapped it.

This is a giant Internetting FAIL.

Coincidentally this also happens to be my 100th post since I moved to WordPress.

W00t!

I shall be back online again when the big boys pull their pants up and get to it.

Knowing the Middle East that could be a week or more.

*sigh*

Welcome to Egypt one and all.

It’s getting to me…

Being in the holiday season and not being with my family is hitting me hard. Actually a lot harder than I thought it would. Letting the other holidays slip by wasn’t nearly as hard, but there is something about Christmas and New Years without the usual familial conjoining that feels so empty and depressing.

Not saying that I’m in danger of it, but I can understand a little more now why suicide for people without close family ties is more prevalent during the holidays.

That plus a stressful week at work and I’m just about done up. Poor Mr. MM doesn’t know whats wrong with me, but he’ll understand- unfortunately- when we’re in the states during Eid and he’s not with his family.

Its not something I would even wish upon my enemy.

*PS- For those of you warming up your fingers in preparation for sending me a nasty comment about being Muslim and enjoying Christmas with my family: don’t waste your time. My intentions are between me and my God only. Thanx.

6 Months

Today it is 6 calendar months since I moved to Egypt. It seems like such a large chunk of time and yet its gone by so quickly. As I grow up I’m finding that time flies and yet it seems like its standing still.

My Grandma might not want to read this

What may be a new discovery to outsiders is that Islamic sexual mores are not only about veiling women, segregating the sexes and austerity.

On the contrary, sex is there to be enjoyed to the maximum by Muslims – as long as they are married Muslims – and there are numerous religious exhortations on the importance of foreplay, mutual titillation and satisfaction for both partners.

Indeed, if a husband fails to satisfy his wife sexually – or vice versa – it is considered grounds for divorce under Islamic law.

Taken from the BBC: Sexy secrets of the Syrian souk

Knocking walls of ignorance down one at a time.

Love/Hate

As much as I despise living here and no matter how badly I want to go home I know that I am going to crave, like a struggling drug addict, the always changing randomness that is Egypt.

Sitting here at work looking over a CV from someone who is obviously not proficient at English, who has sent me a photocopied PDF file of a typed CV including all manner of stamped official papers in Arabic, and hearing both the garbled yelling/salutations of the doormen downstairs and the tinny echo of Oum Kalthoum playing somewhere else in the building I am struck by the bitter yet sweet sense of mingled disgust and love.

Like a drug I hate it as much as I need it.

Shoo! Or wait, SHOE!

Did anyone else catch that the shoe-throwing journalist is a correspondant for a Cairo-based news program?

Yep.

How much you wanna bet he’s not allowed back into Egypt? Mubarak doesn’t want anyone who is willing to throw things at Presidents elected by shady means.