Assalam u alaikum,
"Every day is an adventure," as Mustafa says. I'm not sure why we always tend to see our normal lives as boring. Actually (theoretically, as I can't claim to be like this) a Muslim shouldn't ever be 'bored'. Nothing ever remains static. As my Arabic teacher was telling me, the heart is constantly moving and changing. The word qalb in Arabic means "heart" and also, as a verb, means "to turn" or "to flip". So that's how we are, actually, always turning and flipping and changing. Unless your dead, which a lot of people are.
Alhamdulillah among the greatest things that we found in the last couple of days is a sheikh who can listen to our Qur'an every day. His name is Sheikh Bilal. The masjid where he leads salah is, uh, shall we say, unfinished, but it is still worth it to pray there. Masha'allah he has really good recitation, really good character, and is surprisingly young. I pray that this will be good for us insha'allah.
We have also discovered...a new restaurant! Castro's is a restaurant that has absolutely nothing to do with Fidel Castro, although they have pictures of him and Che Guevara plastered everywhere. They have really good pizza and (oh boy) hot dogs. But I think we better take it easy, since for some reason I don't think pizza is a health food.
You know how Mustafa is always thinking up new ideas for a business? Well he was inspired by Castro's and decided he wants to open up a new restaurant on Whyte Avenue called "Che" (how original). The restaurant will specialize in a "revolutionary" diet that is vegetarian, organic and really cheap. I hate to think what he will think of next.
Today we played soccer in the morning as usual. It's even more fun now than it was before because we play with the Turkmenistanians and Russians first, then with a whole bunch of students from all over the world. Our games with the students are 10 minutes long and intensely competitive. The characters who play with us are unforgettable: Moin bhai from Bangladesh, Hamza from Russia; Abdul Malik, an African guy from Britain who has crazy ball control; Dawud, who almost cries if he misses; another wise-cracking brother from New York who's name I've forgotten, and the unparallelled DR. SAIF!!!! I'm gonna let Mustafa describe Dr. Saif because I'm sure he can do a much better job than me, but I'll just say that he is like a cross between Tanveer Phupha and Azhar Usman. Just You Think It!
Alhamdulillah everything is going really well. It's almost been a month and a half, but I think that it's gone well so far. We need dua's the same way we need water.
Ma'asalam,
~Ameer
Friday, March 30, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
The Pyramids
Assalam u alaikum,
The Pyramids. The word never meant much to me before, but now I know why it's ranked among the seven wonders of the world. It truly is a wonder. What I don't understand (and everyone who see them wonders the same thing) is how they built such collosal building with no bulldozers, no huge machines, nothing?! Just pure man-power. But I start from the wrong end.
Yesterday was Mustafa's day-off, so we decided that we would make use of the opportunity and at least visit the pyramids once. We knew we wouldn't have that much time, but we were kind of ashamed of the fact that we've been in Egypt almost two months and we haven't even been near the pyramids. So after I whizzed through my homework, we got a backpack, filled it with water-bottles and set out on our quest. It was a really neat feeling, like we were actually inside The Alchemist.
The weather was great, and we managed to get a taxi for only 25 guineas, which is pretty good considering that the pyramids are about one hour away from Nasr City. You don't realize it in Nasr City, but Cairo is built in a desert. The transition was really abrupt, we were in the city adn suddenly we were in the middle of a colossal desert. The highway then ran over the Nile River, and again there was an abrupt transition to the lushest kind of vegetation you can imagine, and then desert again. Egypt is full of contradictions, not least because the greatest river in the world runs through a desert.
The first glimpse of the pyramid was un-replicable. Mustafa saw them first and kept tapping me on the shoulder until finally I saw them. The sun above the pyramids made them shine brightly as if made of pure gold. You don't really understand how big they are until you see them. They tower above you, as if they are monoliths erected by aliens who left without explaining their purpose or meaning. Mustafa and I gaped at them with our mouths open. What kind of people were they? How arrogant they must have been, to make something like that.
The adventure truly began when we reached the pyramid. O Fellow Travellers, develop minds of steel! We were taken in by the Egyptian "guides" like Green Foreigners. It was horrific. The man accosted us as soon as we left our taxi.
"Do you speak English or Arabic?"
I was tempted to say Arabic, but thought English would be safer. I was wrong.
"Lookthepyramidstheygonnacloseatfouro'clockyoupayfiftyguineastogetinyounoseeanything. Come with us. We'll take you on a tour for only 40 guineas."
"Shukran Ammo, we're just going to check it out ourselves..."
"Are you calling me a liar?" Then his friend pipes in,
"He's a Muslim just like you!"
Things were getting serious. Worst of all, we had stopped to talk to them. When we tried to walk away, the friend started following us, reiterating all his various arguments about the pyramids would close and what's your name and who knows what else. See the problem is, as Canadians, we always are naive and eventually believe whatever we are told. "Farewell, my childhood, I know better now."
We capitulated and went with the man to ride the horses. To cut a long story short, I continued arguing with the "guide" the entire time while we are on the trip, making it impossible to really enjoy it. But even though we spent too much money and constantly argued with them, it was totally worth it. Riding galloping horses in the desert in front of the pyramids...picture it. It was nothing short of brilliant.
We returned home tired but satisfied. Finally we had been to a place that had lived up to our grand expectations. The one thing I've realized is that no one is more powerful than Allah. That civilization was the most powerful in the world, yet all that is left of them is a pile of stones. A grand pile of stones, no doubt, but just an eroding structure of sand. No power is too great to fall.
Ma'asalam,
~Ameer
The Pyramids. The word never meant much to me before, but now I know why it's ranked among the seven wonders of the world. It truly is a wonder. What I don't understand (and everyone who see them wonders the same thing) is how they built such collosal building with no bulldozers, no huge machines, nothing?! Just pure man-power. But I start from the wrong end.
Yesterday was Mustafa's day-off, so we decided that we would make use of the opportunity and at least visit the pyramids once. We knew we wouldn't have that much time, but we were kind of ashamed of the fact that we've been in Egypt almost two months and we haven't even been near the pyramids. So after I whizzed through my homework, we got a backpack, filled it with water-bottles and set out on our quest. It was a really neat feeling, like we were actually inside The Alchemist.
The weather was great, and we managed to get a taxi for only 25 guineas, which is pretty good considering that the pyramids are about one hour away from Nasr City. You don't realize it in Nasr City, but Cairo is built in a desert. The transition was really abrupt, we were in the city adn suddenly we were in the middle of a colossal desert. The highway then ran over the Nile River, and again there was an abrupt transition to the lushest kind of vegetation you can imagine, and then desert again. Egypt is full of contradictions, not least because the greatest river in the world runs through a desert.
The first glimpse of the pyramid was un-replicable. Mustafa saw them first and kept tapping me on the shoulder until finally I saw them. The sun above the pyramids made them shine brightly as if made of pure gold. You don't really understand how big they are until you see them. They tower above you, as if they are monoliths erected by aliens who left without explaining their purpose or meaning. Mustafa and I gaped at them with our mouths open. What kind of people were they? How arrogant they must have been, to make something like that.
The adventure truly began when we reached the pyramid. O Fellow Travellers, develop minds of steel! We were taken in by the Egyptian "guides" like Green Foreigners. It was horrific. The man accosted us as soon as we left our taxi.
"Do you speak English or Arabic?"
I was tempted to say Arabic, but thought English would be safer. I was wrong.
"Lookthepyramidstheygonnacloseatfouro'clockyoupayfiftyguineastogetinyounoseeanything. Come with us. We'll take you on a tour for only 40 guineas."
"Shukran Ammo, we're just going to check it out ourselves..."
"Are you calling me a liar?" Then his friend pipes in,
"He's a Muslim just like you!"
Things were getting serious. Worst of all, we had stopped to talk to them. When we tried to walk away, the friend started following us, reiterating all his various arguments about the pyramids would close and what's your name and who knows what else. See the problem is, as Canadians, we always are naive and eventually believe whatever we are told. "Farewell, my childhood, I know better now."
We capitulated and went with the man to ride the horses. To cut a long story short, I continued arguing with the "guide" the entire time while we are on the trip, making it impossible to really enjoy it. But even though we spent too much money and constantly argued with them, it was totally worth it. Riding galloping horses in the desert in front of the pyramids...picture it. It was nothing short of brilliant.
We returned home tired but satisfied. Finally we had been to a place that had lived up to our grand expectations. The one thing I've realized is that no one is more powerful than Allah. That civilization was the most powerful in the world, yet all that is left of them is a pile of stones. A grand pile of stones, no doubt, but just an eroding structure of sand. No power is too great to fall.
| Ozymandius by: Percy Bysshe Shelley |
| I met a traveler from an antique land Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert... Near them, on the sand, Half-sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed; And on the pedestal these words appear: My name is Ozymandius, King of Kings, Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away. |
Ma'asalam,
~Ameer
Monday, March 26, 2007
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Khallee
Assalam u alaikum,
No matter what anyone says about Egypt being a very modern country and not very Islamic, no one can disagree with the fact that Egyptians are among the most generous people in the world. There are so many examples that I've seen myself. Today I bought a big crate of bottled water from the store and was walking home with it. I had reached my apartment when I heard someone yelling, "Ammo!" I turned around to see a little girl running up to me with my wallet. Subhanallah, I said to myself. In any other place it might have been gone in a flash but this girl ran all the way from the store to give it to me, with all the money intact, I might add.
Generosity and politeness is ingrained in the culture. I bought koshari for lunch today (alhamdulillah my digestive system is still in good working order) but I only had a fifty-pound note (for more on the importance of fukka in Egypt, see previous posts). The boy working at the restaurant had no change of course, so I said I would give it to him tomorrow. I managed, through some intelligent purchases (the crate of bottled water was all part of my plan to get more fukka ) to get some change, so I decided to give him the change tonight. When I went to give it to him, he just kept saying, "Khallee," and refused to take the money. I was totally confused. "It's only a guinea and a half anyways, what's he playing at?" He could only speak in ammiya anyways and I couldn't figure it out. When I went to get Mustafa from Al-Diwan, I asked his teacher what khallee means. "Oh," he said, laughing, "Khallee means something like 'don't worry about it' or 'don't give it.' Instead of saying, 'Yes, give me the money,' out of politeness they say the opposite."
I guess that means I still have to give him the money. :D
In other news, Mustafa and I may go to the pyramids tomorrow since it is free day tomorrow and my class is in the morning. It depends how much homework I have. If I have a lot we won't go but otherwise we'll try and go. Just pray we don't get ripped off too badly. We just want to get a feeling for it before we go with anyone else.
I really need to wash my clothes, but I never get any time. I thought I would get more time now that my classes are in the morning, but I never do. I guess that's life, in Cairo or Canada.
Oh by the way, the Egyptian Constitution is being changed! Yaaaaaaaay! Egyptians will now actually have FREE elections! On the news they always feature Hosni Mobarak going on about how the changes to the dustoor will make life more free and democratic for Egyptians. My teacher had a little bit to say about that.
Ma'asalam,
~Ameer
No matter what anyone says about Egypt being a very modern country and not very Islamic, no one can disagree with the fact that Egyptians are among the most generous people in the world. There are so many examples that I've seen myself. Today I bought a big crate of bottled water from the store and was walking home with it. I had reached my apartment when I heard someone yelling, "Ammo!" I turned around to see a little girl running up to me with my wallet. Subhanallah, I said to myself. In any other place it might have been gone in a flash but this girl ran all the way from the store to give it to me, with all the money intact, I might add.
Generosity and politeness is ingrained in the culture. I bought koshari for lunch today (alhamdulillah my digestive system is still in good working order) but I only had a fifty-pound note (for more on the importance of fukka in Egypt, see previous posts). The boy working at the restaurant had no change of course, so I said I would give it to him tomorrow. I managed, through some intelligent purchases (the crate of bottled water was all part of my plan to get more fukka ) to get some change, so I decided to give him the change tonight. When I went to give it to him, he just kept saying, "Khallee," and refused to take the money. I was totally confused. "It's only a guinea and a half anyways, what's he playing at?" He could only speak in ammiya anyways and I couldn't figure it out. When I went to get Mustafa from Al-Diwan, I asked his teacher what khallee means. "Oh," he said, laughing, "Khallee means something like 'don't worry about it' or 'don't give it.' Instead of saying, 'Yes, give me the money,' out of politeness they say the opposite."
I guess that means I still have to give him the money. :D
In other news, Mustafa and I may go to the pyramids tomorrow since it is free day tomorrow and my class is in the morning. It depends how much homework I have. If I have a lot we won't go but otherwise we'll try and go. Just pray we don't get ripped off too badly. We just want to get a feeling for it before we go with anyone else.
I really need to wash my clothes, but I never get any time. I thought I would get more time now that my classes are in the morning, but I never do. I guess that's life, in Cairo or Canada.
Oh by the way, the Egyptian Constitution is being changed! Yaaaaaaaay! Egyptians will now actually have FREE elections! On the news they always feature Hosni Mobarak going on about how the changes to the dustoor will make life more free and democratic for Egyptians. My teacher had a little bit to say about that.
Ma'asalam,
~Ameer
What Interesting Thing Happened?
Everything. More and more I'm begining to realize that every day that we thank Allah for is a special and exciting day.
Often, I worry that writing on the blog is a form of Kibr or showing off. Trying to become an "Egypt-ite" or to dare to assume that hefty title of "Talib-ul-ilm" is something that I didn't come here to do to and hope not to. To quote the words of Dawud Wharnsby:
I wrote a letter to my loved one, just the other day,
It's sad communication has evolved this way,
We read so many words but have so little to relate,
As Angels scribble down every letter that we say,
All the violent things we write,
The passionate insults we vent,
It's easy to be arrogant behind user passwords we invent.
But on the Day the Scrolls are laid,
With every single deed displayed,
That day I'll be so afraid to read...
However, at the same time, it's important to realize the gift that makes us human is the ability to write. According to the Television Serial starring Azhari Sheikh Muhammad Abdo, "The ability to write is what seperates us from animals." With that premise, let us proceed.
Bismillah.
Today Ameer jumped another Level to Level 8. Beats me what he's planning to do. In my classes, we are moving very slowly through Mustawwa 3. According to my teacher though, by the end I'm supposed to be able to read the newspaper. So I'll "put my back to the golden hay" and push on. I guess that's the important thing. To realize that every gift is from Allah, and he's the only one who can give them out. The only thing we can do on Earth is try our best to get them.
With that note in mind,
Wasalam,
Mustafa
Often, I worry that writing on the blog is a form of Kibr or showing off. Trying to become an "Egypt-ite" or to dare to assume that hefty title of "Talib-ul-ilm" is something that I didn't come here to do to and hope not to. To quote the words of Dawud Wharnsby:
I wrote a letter to my loved one, just the other day,
It's sad communication has evolved this way,
We read so many words but have so little to relate,
As Angels scribble down every letter that we say,
All the violent things we write,
The passionate insults we vent,
It's easy to be arrogant behind user passwords we invent.
But on the Day the Scrolls are laid,
With every single deed displayed,
That day I'll be so afraid to read...
However, at the same time, it's important to realize the gift that makes us human is the ability to write. According to the Television Serial starring Azhari Sheikh Muhammad Abdo, "The ability to write is what seperates us from animals." With that premise, let us proceed.
Bismillah.
Today Ameer jumped another Level to Level 8. Beats me what he's planning to do. In my classes, we are moving very slowly through Mustawwa 3. According to my teacher though, by the end I'm supposed to be able to read the newspaper. So I'll "put my back to the golden hay" and push on. I guess that's the important thing. To realize that every gift is from Allah, and he's the only one who can give them out. The only thing we can do on Earth is try our best to get them.
With that note in mind,
Wasalam,
Mustafa
Friday, March 23, 2007
Brothers in Cairo
These are pics of Atiq and Arif Bhai... Mashallah, they helped us so much adjust to something that was initially alien.
Ustadh Ayman- Mustafa's Teacher.
He looks a bit tired in the picture, but I suppose that's reasonable, based on the facts that he has been teaching since 8:00 in the morning.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
The Mixer
Assalam u alaikum,
Things can get a little confusing sometimes. You hear different things and then you get a little nervous, a little worried. Sometimes people say, "You can't really learn Arabic in four months. You need more time." It gets worrisome, but you just have to believe in yourself and plug on. Not everyone is the same anyways. And the results are never in our hands. Never.
Some more Arabic sayings:
"No right (truth) is ever lost as long as it is being sought."
"As if the suspect said, 'Take me!'" (the criminal exposes himself by his own actions)
We learned the word for insects "hasharat" in class and the names for different insects in Arabic: bauddah, naml, nahl, and then my teacher sprung this Hadith on me, as close as I remember, that if Allah valued the world more than the wing of a fly, kuffar would not even get a drink of water. I don't really know what to say about that, other than that the world is not how it seems.
Ma'asalam,
~Ameer
Things can get a little confusing sometimes. You hear different things and then you get a little nervous, a little worried. Sometimes people say, "You can't really learn Arabic in four months. You need more time." It gets worrisome, but you just have to believe in yourself and plug on. Not everyone is the same anyways. And the results are never in our hands. Never.
Some more Arabic sayings:
"No right (truth) is ever lost as long as it is being sought."
"As if the suspect said, 'Take me!'" (the criminal exposes himself by his own actions)
We learned the word for insects "hasharat" in class and the names for different insects in Arabic: bauddah, naml, nahl, and then my teacher sprung this Hadith on me, as close as I remember, that if Allah valued the world more than the wing of a fly, kuffar would not even get a drink of water. I don't really know what to say about that, other than that the world is not how it seems.
Ma'asalam,
~Ameer
Monday, March 19, 2007
Toilets
Assalam u alaikum,
Funny, this blog thing is starting to grow on me. I find myself composing lines for it or thinking up titles for it. Maybe I have a deep-seated psychological need to express myself. Maybe I am just a stuck-up little kid trying to prove he has a bigger ego than everyone else. Insha'allah not.
I think that sometimes I am like a toilet: nice and clean on the outside, but unclean on the inside. That sounds rather depressing, but it's true: when I come back I can pretend to be all pious and stuff (double that if I go to the Rihla) but inside I might still be the same. I might have all the same faults and problems that I had before, only this time my tongue has another language to hurt people with, that's all. So I need everyone's dua that doesn't happen. I know that it's not impossible. Crystal glasses exist as well as toilets.
By the way, I am not faulting anyone who has been to the Rihla. I am only blaming myself, because I and Allah alone know what I do and what I think.
Classes are going well, alhamdulillah. We've really got into the mushtaqqat now: the way you can derive millions of words from a single root word. It's pretty neat, you feel like some sort of detective, trying to compare all the words against the root word. Sometimes it get's all mushed up in your brain like a newspaper. But I like it alhamdulillah.
Yeah, I like it. No need to continuously qualify myself. I am who I am, I don't need to justify the motives behind the words. I always feel this continuous urge to make sure everyone knows that yes, Ameer is very humble, he's not showing off...but enough. This toilet's going to get a real good scrubbing.
Insha'allah.
Ma'asalam,
~Ameer
Funny, this blog thing is starting to grow on me. I find myself composing lines for it or thinking up titles for it. Maybe I have a deep-seated psychological need to express myself. Maybe I am just a stuck-up little kid trying to prove he has a bigger ego than everyone else. Insha'allah not.
I think that sometimes I am like a toilet: nice and clean on the outside, but unclean on the inside. That sounds rather depressing, but it's true: when I come back I can pretend to be all pious and stuff (double that if I go to the Rihla) but inside I might still be the same. I might have all the same faults and problems that I had before, only this time my tongue has another language to hurt people with, that's all. So I need everyone's dua that doesn't happen. I know that it's not impossible. Crystal glasses exist as well as toilets.
By the way, I am not faulting anyone who has been to the Rihla. I am only blaming myself, because I and Allah alone know what I do and what I think.
Classes are going well, alhamdulillah. We've really got into the mushtaqqat now: the way you can derive millions of words from a single root word. It's pretty neat, you feel like some sort of detective, trying to compare all the words against the root word. Sometimes it get's all mushed up in your brain like a newspaper. But I like it alhamdulillah.
Yeah, I like it. No need to continuously qualify myself. I am who I am, I don't need to justify the motives behind the words. I always feel this continuous urge to make sure everyone knows that yes, Ameer is very humble, he's not showing off...but enough. This toilet's going to get a real good scrubbing.
Insha'allah.
Ma'asalam,
~Ameer
Ameer caught eating a danish
By the way, this site is opposite from Bilal Masjid and about 2 minutes away from Al Diwan.
Nice Story
Assalamualaikum,
Two days ago was the first time I heard a story, or Qasas, told in Arabic. On that general note, I feel that after a month I can basically communicate with someone without them running away in shocked terror, and understand 100% more in the recitation of the Qura'an. That may be a slightly deciveing statistic, because I probably understand 0% of the Qura'an beforehand. Anyhow, here's the story, dramatized in English.
"A long time ago, a young, poor man was walking down a street. Starving from his poverty, he passed past a garden that was so rich with produce that the apple trees were hanging over the gate. Succumbing to his stomach, the youth took an apple and took a bite out of it. Instantly, he regretted it, fearing Allah. So he went into the garden to apologize. Eventually, he found someone in the garden, but the person told him that the owner of the garden was in a city far away. The owner was the Sheik of the City, no less.
The young man walked on, starving but determined to make amends for his wrong. Eventually, he arrived in the city and inquired about the Sheikh. (By the way, according to Ustad Ayman, he had been walking from Isha of the previous day till Asr now). The Sheikh was apparently praying Asr. The young man went to the Masjid, prayed, and went to the mimbar to make apologies. However, immediatly after prayer the Shiekh stood up and began to give a khutba, accordingly about the sin of stealing and about good character. He talked all the way till Maghrib, then broke for prayer. Immediately after Maghrib, he got up again and talked till Isha. By this time, the youth hadn't eaten for a whole day and was about to collapse. However, he went to the Sheikh and told him what had happened. He showed him the apple, with the tiny bite that had been taken from it.
"Nope, I'm not going to forgive you."
"What? Please, ya Sheikh, I'm a poor man. I'll do anything."
"Anything?"
"Yes, anything."
"Alright then, marry my daughter."
The youth didn't understand.
"Ah, you see, my daughter is deaf, dumb, blind, mute, and lame. Do you agree to marry her."
The youth was in a serious dilemna. (According to Ustad Ayman, he had to choose between Athab in this world or in the next.) The youth finally decided that he didn't want to be punished at all, for he hadn't wronged anyone till that day.
"All right then," said the Sheikh. He got everyone to witness the wedding, then took the youth to his bride.
Of course, the bride turned out to be deaf,dumb, blind, mute, and lame- but to evil. A year later, a son was born to the couple. The son was named Abu Hanifa."
Nice story huh?
And here's a poem to inspire us on:
IF I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.
Wasalam
-Mustafa
Two days ago was the first time I heard a story, or Qasas, told in Arabic. On that general note, I feel that after a month I can basically communicate with someone without them running away in shocked terror, and understand 100% more in the recitation of the Qura'an. That may be a slightly deciveing statistic, because I probably understand 0% of the Qura'an beforehand. Anyhow, here's the story, dramatized in English.
"A long time ago, a young, poor man was walking down a street. Starving from his poverty, he passed past a garden that was so rich with produce that the apple trees were hanging over the gate. Succumbing to his stomach, the youth took an apple and took a bite out of it. Instantly, he regretted it, fearing Allah. So he went into the garden to apologize. Eventually, he found someone in the garden, but the person told him that the owner of the garden was in a city far away. The owner was the Sheik of the City, no less.
The young man walked on, starving but determined to make amends for his wrong. Eventually, he arrived in the city and inquired about the Sheikh. (By the way, according to Ustad Ayman, he had been walking from Isha of the previous day till Asr now). The Sheikh was apparently praying Asr. The young man went to the Masjid, prayed, and went to the mimbar to make apologies. However, immediatly after prayer the Shiekh stood up and began to give a khutba, accordingly about the sin of stealing and about good character. He talked all the way till Maghrib, then broke for prayer. Immediately after Maghrib, he got up again and talked till Isha. By this time, the youth hadn't eaten for a whole day and was about to collapse. However, he went to the Sheikh and told him what had happened. He showed him the apple, with the tiny bite that had been taken from it.
"Nope, I'm not going to forgive you."
"What? Please, ya Sheikh, I'm a poor man. I'll do anything."
"Anything?"
"Yes, anything."
"Alright then, marry my daughter."
The youth didn't understand.
"Ah, you see, my daughter is deaf, dumb, blind, mute, and lame. Do you agree to marry her."
The youth was in a serious dilemna. (According to Ustad Ayman, he had to choose between Athab in this world or in the next.) The youth finally decided that he didn't want to be punished at all, for he hadn't wronged anyone till that day.
"All right then," said the Sheikh. He got everyone to witness the wedding, then took the youth to his bride.
Of course, the bride turned out to be deaf,dumb, blind, mute, and lame- but to evil. A year later, a son was born to the couple. The son was named Abu Hanifa."
Nice story huh?
And here's a poem to inspire us on:
IF I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.
Wasalam
-Mustafa
Sunday, March 18, 2007
One Month and Water
Assalam u alaikum,
Can you believe it's been more than one month already?
I certainly can't. The time has gone so fast. Taking stock of the benefits, I think I have learned something. I certainly could have learned more, especially in the talking department, but I feel more close to Arabic. It's not just that I've learned more words. Things make more sense somehow. Then again I might be deceiving myself. Insha'allah, not.
In one way it's hard to learn Arabic in an Arabic country because not that many people speak classical Arabic (fus'ha). Alhamdulillah at least we have Ammo Ramly and our landlord (not the bawwab) who can speak Arabic, and of course our teachers, but other than that it's pretty tough. It's actually the best experience when we can talk to other students while our teachers are present. That way we can use the words we've learned in another context, but without the fear of totally making up stuff.
Abu, I heard you really want us to go the Pyramids. The only thing is, you don't realize that the pyramids are nothing on Nasr City. Everyday is an adventure. Today, for example, we realized what a blessing water is. Just think about it. Without running water you can take a shower, wash the dishes, and worst of all, use the toilet! The reason I am saying this is because our water abruptly shut off this morning. I went to make wudu' for fajr and I was really in a rush because I thought I could hear the iqama. I started thinking that the water flow was kind of sputtering, when suddenly it shut off. Zip. Do da. Nothing. I went to the kitchen and tried the tap. Zilch. I turned on everything. "Uh oh," I thought. I was so groggy though, I was only worried about missing jamat. I ripped Mustafa out of bed and dragged him to the masjid. Alhamdulillah we got namaz. We tried the water again when we got home, but again the most we got was a little sputter and then nothing.
You can't imagine what's it's like to want to go the bathroom, but realize you can't flush the toilet. That's a really horrific thought. And then you think, "Hey wait, people have lived for centuries without running water, and many people still live without running water! What's going on?" I realized we've become quite dependent on these little amenities. Sure it's fine when we go camping for a few days and we have no running water. We feel invigorated by our little brush with the wilderness and then run home to our beautiful homes with everything you can ever dream of. Think about Atiq bhai and Arif bhai, our two fellow students at Markaz Al-Diwan, who have had this problem for a long time. They never know when their water is going to turn off. And yet they never complain and always have a smile on their face. I am really going to miss them when they leave in a few days. Allah always protect them and what they've learned and insha'allah we will meet again someday.
Alhamdulillah our landlord and the bawwab came and fixed the problem in about five minutes. Apparently sometimes the cistern of water at the top of the apartment has a little lag time getting water to the apartments so there is air in the pipes. When that happens, water can't come through. So what the bawwab did was turn on this pipe in the bathroom and basically drowned the floor of the bathroom with water (I was quite surprised by the way he just let all the water cascade on the floor and then just walk out). He let the water run for a little while, then left. So alhamdulillah we have water again. May Allah never test us with more than we can bear.
Ma'asalam,
~Ameer
Can you believe it's been more than one month already?
I certainly can't. The time has gone so fast. Taking stock of the benefits, I think I have learned something. I certainly could have learned more, especially in the talking department, but I feel more close to Arabic. It's not just that I've learned more words. Things make more sense somehow. Then again I might be deceiving myself. Insha'allah, not.
In one way it's hard to learn Arabic in an Arabic country because not that many people speak classical Arabic (fus'ha). Alhamdulillah at least we have Ammo Ramly and our landlord (not the bawwab) who can speak Arabic, and of course our teachers, but other than that it's pretty tough. It's actually the best experience when we can talk to other students while our teachers are present. That way we can use the words we've learned in another context, but without the fear of totally making up stuff.
Abu, I heard you really want us to go the Pyramids. The only thing is, you don't realize that the pyramids are nothing on Nasr City. Everyday is an adventure. Today, for example, we realized what a blessing water is. Just think about it. Without running water you can take a shower, wash the dishes, and worst of all, use the toilet! The reason I am saying this is because our water abruptly shut off this morning. I went to make wudu' for fajr and I was really in a rush because I thought I could hear the iqama. I started thinking that the water flow was kind of sputtering, when suddenly it shut off. Zip. Do da. Nothing. I went to the kitchen and tried the tap. Zilch. I turned on everything. "Uh oh," I thought. I was so groggy though, I was only worried about missing jamat. I ripped Mustafa out of bed and dragged him to the masjid. Alhamdulillah we got namaz. We tried the water again when we got home, but again the most we got was a little sputter and then nothing.
You can't imagine what's it's like to want to go the bathroom, but realize you can't flush the toilet. That's a really horrific thought. And then you think, "Hey wait, people have lived for centuries without running water, and many people still live without running water! What's going on?" I realized we've become quite dependent on these little amenities. Sure it's fine when we go camping for a few days and we have no running water. We feel invigorated by our little brush with the wilderness and then run home to our beautiful homes with everything you can ever dream of. Think about Atiq bhai and Arif bhai, our two fellow students at Markaz Al-Diwan, who have had this problem for a long time. They never know when their water is going to turn off. And yet they never complain and always have a smile on their face. I am really going to miss them when they leave in a few days. Allah always protect them and what they've learned and insha'allah we will meet again someday.
Alhamdulillah our landlord and the bawwab came and fixed the problem in about five minutes. Apparently sometimes the cistern of water at the top of the apartment has a little lag time getting water to the apartments so there is air in the pipes. When that happens, water can't come through. So what the bawwab did was turn on this pipe in the bathroom and basically drowned the floor of the bathroom with water (I was quite surprised by the way he just let all the water cascade on the floor and then just walk out). He let the water run for a little while, then left. So alhamdulillah we have water again. May Allah never test us with more than we can bear.
Ma'asalam,
~Ameer
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Wilderness
Assalam u alaikum,
Sometimes I feel like I'm out in the wilderness here. Walking through the crowds of young people sitting in front of Sharqawi's, I felt very sad somehow. One part of me was lonely because they looked so happy, laughing their heads off and smiling their lousy fake smiles. The other part of me was sad because I know that it will all come to nothing: all the time spent sitting on the street will not benefit those people or their country. It won't even bring them happiness. So why should I feel lonely? I walk alone through the valleys of my mind looking for the place I don't know the name of.
Yeah, so that was pretty spiritual. But I read my first Arabic poem in class on Thursday so I think I am entitled to use "the language of the poets." (Ameer laughs hollowly.) The poem was by a man named Iliya Abu Madhi. Born in Lebanon in 1891, Iliya traveled to Egypt when he was about eleven years old and made his living by selling cigarettes. Incredibly he spent his free time reading books, learning, and wrting poetry (did you know that in Arabic there is a special word for writing poetry as opposed to writing just normally? The root word is na dha ma, which is also the same root as the word meaing, "order" or "system". It's that whole mushtaqqat [branch] thing all over again).
When Iliya was twenty years old he travelled to New York to look for work. He joined the literary circle consisting of other Lebanese poets writing in Arabic and living in America. Their group is now called "The Mohajir Poets". Among them was the famous Jubran Khalil Jubran, better known as Khalil Gibran.
Iliya is famous for his optimistic look on life and his constant calling for people to appreciate the beauty of life and hope. He also argued for economic and racial equality. His poems "Theen" (like Jabal-al-Theen in Qur'an, not 'teen' as in 'fig') and the poem that I studied, "My Country" are often memorized by people all over the Arabian world. Here's my rough translation of "My Country":
*Note: Arabic poems have a meter, just like English poems. This poem is written in a meter called bahr ("ocean" in Arabic). Bahr is the same meter used in the famous Burda of the Prophet (SA), which Mesut Kurtis has made famous, "Mawla ya salli wa sallim daiman, abadan..."
Biladi
I passed a beautiful garden,
And I listened to the melodious birds of song,
And I was captivated; but my heart did not love them
As much as the birds of my earth and the flowers of my country.
And I drank from the waters of the Nile, that sheikh of rivers,
And it was like I drank from the water of Paradise [kawthar],
A river like that from ancient times,
Sweet, but not like the water from my country.
One day I tried to draw beauty in my mind,
Beauty; for beauty is the lord of poetry,
And I went looking for it but exhausted I became,
Until I beheld the daughters of my country.
As you can see, Iliya was more than a little bit obsessed with Lebanon, despite the fact he didn't live there very long. Please don't accuse me of trying to be flowery, especially because my translation is probably pretty bad. I just wanted to give all you "speechies" an update. One request, don't start telling Khala Su'ad about this otherwise when I get back all I am going to be doing is memorizing more and more Arabic poetry.
Otherwise alhamdulillah everything is going pretty well. I had my oral test today and alhamdulillah it went fine. I still don't understand what kind of superlative target my teacher has set, but I am glad he's doing it. Without Ustadh Ibrahim pulling me up by the scruff of my neck, I don't think I would have learned much at all.
Also, I think a tribute to Ammo Rafiq would be well deserved. His Arabic classes were so good that despite the fact I never studies, they are still helping me.
My update from the Markaz Al-Diwan campus (campus, hah, that's pretty funny).
As always, dua.
It's like the water from my country.
Ma'asalam,
~Ameer
Sometimes I feel like I'm out in the wilderness here. Walking through the crowds of young people sitting in front of Sharqawi's, I felt very sad somehow. One part of me was lonely because they looked so happy, laughing their heads off and smiling their lousy fake smiles. The other part of me was sad because I know that it will all come to nothing: all the time spent sitting on the street will not benefit those people or their country. It won't even bring them happiness. So why should I feel lonely? I walk alone through the valleys of my mind looking for the place I don't know the name of.
Yeah, so that was pretty spiritual. But I read my first Arabic poem in class on Thursday so I think I am entitled to use "the language of the poets." (Ameer laughs hollowly.) The poem was by a man named Iliya Abu Madhi. Born in Lebanon in 1891, Iliya traveled to Egypt when he was about eleven years old and made his living by selling cigarettes. Incredibly he spent his free time reading books, learning, and wrting poetry (did you know that in Arabic there is a special word for writing poetry as opposed to writing just normally? The root word is na dha ma, which is also the same root as the word meaing, "order" or "system". It's that whole mushtaqqat [branch] thing all over again).
When Iliya was twenty years old he travelled to New York to look for work. He joined the literary circle consisting of other Lebanese poets writing in Arabic and living in America. Their group is now called "The Mohajir Poets". Among them was the famous Jubran Khalil Jubran, better known as Khalil Gibran.
Iliya is famous for his optimistic look on life and his constant calling for people to appreciate the beauty of life and hope. He also argued for economic and racial equality. His poems "Theen" (like Jabal-al-Theen in Qur'an, not 'teen' as in 'fig') and the poem that I studied, "My Country" are often memorized by people all over the Arabian world. Here's my rough translation of "My Country":
*Note: Arabic poems have a meter, just like English poems. This poem is written in a meter called bahr ("ocean" in Arabic). Bahr is the same meter used in the famous Burda of the Prophet (SA), which Mesut Kurtis has made famous, "Mawla ya salli wa sallim daiman, abadan..."
Biladi
I passed a beautiful garden,
And I listened to the melodious birds of song,
And I was captivated; but my heart did not love them
As much as the birds of my earth and the flowers of my country.
And I drank from the waters of the Nile, that sheikh of rivers,
And it was like I drank from the water of Paradise [kawthar],
A river like that from ancient times,
Sweet, but not like the water from my country.
One day I tried to draw beauty in my mind,
Beauty; for beauty is the lord of poetry,
And I went looking for it but exhausted I became,
Until I beheld the daughters of my country.
As you can see, Iliya was more than a little bit obsessed with Lebanon, despite the fact he didn't live there very long. Please don't accuse me of trying to be flowery, especially because my translation is probably pretty bad. I just wanted to give all you "speechies" an update. One request, don't start telling Khala Su'ad about this otherwise when I get back all I am going to be doing is memorizing more and more Arabic poetry.
Otherwise alhamdulillah everything is going pretty well. I had my oral test today and alhamdulillah it went fine. I still don't understand what kind of superlative target my teacher has set, but I am glad he's doing it. Without Ustadh Ibrahim pulling me up by the scruff of my neck, I don't think I would have learned much at all.
Also, I think a tribute to Ammo Rafiq would be well deserved. His Arabic classes were so good that despite the fact I never studies, they are still helping me.
My update from the Markaz Al-Diwan campus (campus, hah, that's pretty funny).
As always, dua.
It's like the water from my country.
Ma'asalam,
~Ameer
Friday, March 16, 2007
Yowlers
Assalam u alaikum,
Alhamdulillah I am doing well. Today was great, I really enjoyed it. Behind me as I speak a bunch of British guys who have come here to learn Arabic are playing Fifa Soccer on Xbox and are laughing madly. It's pretty funny because they're big guys wearing topis and thawbs and everything but they're still able to enjoy a little game of video game soccer.
Speaking of soccer, I had a great game today. Seeing Mustafa play so well has really inspired me. Insha'allah please pray, we insha'allah insha'allah have a game with "Team Diwan" on Monday: Mustafa, Arif bhai, Atiq bhai, and the two Muhammads who work at Al-Diwan. We are one team and we go to take on a couple of other teams at a "field" (the field was "busy" last week according to Muhammad, that probably means they had to book it; I wonder what it'll be like?).
Yesterday we went with Arif bhai and Atiq bhai to a restaurant called Pasha. It was pretty good alhamdulillah. There was a momentous moment when I tried my first serving of koshari. It was really good alhamdulillah and amazingly cheap! There was so much food but it was only 4.5 guineas. And that's considered to be expensive! The only problem I have know is that I need to find a restaurant near us that serves koshari. I am sure that I'll be able to find one I just need to look.
As for what koshari is, it has rice, dhaal, and chunai, with this kind of sauce that you pour over it. Then you mix it all together and eat it. It's not exactly explosively-tastebud-popping (that's an understatement) but it's really wholesome food.
Ammo Ramly invited us to his parents' house again today but we decided not to go. I think it was a good decision even though his mother phoned and basically begged us to come. We were able to rest a lot today and that was extremely invigorating and refreshing.
My test yesterday was not great. I knew how to do the stuff but I didn't have enough time to do it. I felt frustrated because I wanted to live up to my teacher's expectations that I could do everything, but I just wasn't able to do it. I was actually really huffed and angry (Mustafa can attest to that) but after I prayed Isha (Shaikh Rida was leading and he has a mellifluous voice) and listened to Surah Waqi'a, "Are you the one who makes the crops grow, or is it We who make the crops grow?" I couldn't really stay angry. It's not up to me whether I learn or not. I can only try.
These Cairene cats are slightly insane. Everyday they serenade beneath our apartment, yowling the most hideous caterwauls you can imagine. It sounds like they're being tortured. The cats are beautiful otherwise but when they yowl like that they sound like their entrails are being fried. I originally thought some kids were abusing them but after hearing it everyday for one to two hours I decided the cats were just off their rockers.
Please pray for my oral test tomorrow, I am sort of nervous about it.
Ma'asalam,
~Ameer
Alhamdulillah I am doing well. Today was great, I really enjoyed it. Behind me as I speak a bunch of British guys who have come here to learn Arabic are playing Fifa Soccer on Xbox and are laughing madly. It's pretty funny because they're big guys wearing topis and thawbs and everything but they're still able to enjoy a little game of video game soccer.
Speaking of soccer, I had a great game today. Seeing Mustafa play so well has really inspired me. Insha'allah please pray, we insha'allah insha'allah have a game with "Team Diwan" on Monday: Mustafa, Arif bhai, Atiq bhai, and the two Muhammads who work at Al-Diwan. We are one team and we go to take on a couple of other teams at a "field" (the field was "busy" last week according to Muhammad, that probably means they had to book it; I wonder what it'll be like?).
Yesterday we went with Arif bhai and Atiq bhai to a restaurant called Pasha. It was pretty good alhamdulillah. There was a momentous moment when I tried my first serving of koshari. It was really good alhamdulillah and amazingly cheap! There was so much food but it was only 4.5 guineas. And that's considered to be expensive! The only problem I have know is that I need to find a restaurant near us that serves koshari. I am sure that I'll be able to find one I just need to look.
As for what koshari is, it has rice, dhaal, and chunai, with this kind of sauce that you pour over it. Then you mix it all together and eat it. It's not exactly explosively-tastebud-popping (that's an understatement) but it's really wholesome food.
Ammo Ramly invited us to his parents' house again today but we decided not to go. I think it was a good decision even though his mother phoned and basically begged us to come. We were able to rest a lot today and that was extremely invigorating and refreshing.
My test yesterday was not great. I knew how to do the stuff but I didn't have enough time to do it. I felt frustrated because I wanted to live up to my teacher's expectations that I could do everything, but I just wasn't able to do it. I was actually really huffed and angry (Mustafa can attest to that) but after I prayed Isha (Shaikh Rida was leading and he has a mellifluous voice) and listened to Surah Waqi'a, "Are you the one who makes the crops grow, or is it We who make the crops grow?" I couldn't really stay angry. It's not up to me whether I learn or not. I can only try.
These Cairene cats are slightly insane. Everyday they serenade beneath our apartment, yowling the most hideous caterwauls you can imagine. It sounds like they're being tortured. The cats are beautiful otherwise but when they yowl like that they sound like their entrails are being fried. I originally thought some kids were abusing them but after hearing it everyday for one to two hours I decided the cats were just off their rockers.
Please pray for my oral test tomorrow, I am sort of nervous about it.
Ma'asalam,
~Ameer
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Work and Wardrobes
Bismillah.
Here's a "work" update from Egypt. Ameer has inexplicably moved to Level 6 in the period of a month (from the people we've been talking to, it took them 4-5 months to get to Level 9). I am sitting in the middle of Level 3. Make tons of dua for us, whoever is reading the blog.
Meanwhile, I think this is time to comment on the unique dress code in Egypt. Here goes:
1. Males (over 20, Egyptian)
Wardrobe 1: An aging set of blue denims with a very, very loose waistband and a fading red shirt. Top it off with owl glasses.
Wardrobe 2: A smelly set of Egyptian robes. When praying beside one of these robes, ensure that gas mask is activated.
2. Males (Shebab)- Probably should be called Kebab.
Wardrobe 1: A very slick set of designer jeans. A very, very ugly black shirt with green stripes and about twelve different brands sewed onto it. Sunglasses and a beaten up old Fiat.
Wardrobe 2: Women's running pants and a jean jacket.
3. Males (Children)
Wardrobe 1: PJs. All the time.
Wardrobe 2: A large, stiffling, black suit. The child begins to cry in the heat. Mother slaps child. I hear the slap and wince from other side of street. Child cries louder. Mommy spank. Child is bawling. Mother lands a barrage of blows till the child stops crying.
4. Females (All ages)
Wardrobe 1: Pink hijab and no comment.
-Mustafa
Here's a "work" update from Egypt. Ameer has inexplicably moved to Level 6 in the period of a month (from the people we've been talking to, it took them 4-5 months to get to Level 9). I am sitting in the middle of Level 3. Make tons of dua for us, whoever is reading the blog.
Meanwhile, I think this is time to comment on the unique dress code in Egypt. Here goes:
1. Males (over 20, Egyptian)
Wardrobe 1: An aging set of blue denims with a very, very loose waistband and a fading red shirt. Top it off with owl glasses.
Wardrobe 2: A smelly set of Egyptian robes. When praying beside one of these robes, ensure that gas mask is activated.
2. Males (Shebab)- Probably should be called Kebab.
Wardrobe 1: A very slick set of designer jeans. A very, very ugly black shirt with green stripes and about twelve different brands sewed onto it. Sunglasses and a beaten up old Fiat.
Wardrobe 2: Women's running pants and a jean jacket.
3. Males (Children)
Wardrobe 1: PJs. All the time.
Wardrobe 2: A large, stiffling, black suit. The child begins to cry in the heat. Mother slaps child. I hear the slap and wince from other side of street. Child cries louder. Mommy spank. Child is bawling. Mother lands a barrage of blows till the child stops crying.
4. Females (All ages)
Wardrobe 1: Pink hijab and no comment.
-Mustafa
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Real Life in Cairo
Bismillah
Assalamualaikum.
In my opinion, there are two ways to view the way we spend time in Al Qahira. One is Ameer's way. I make sure to read his blog every day to see what new and idealistic adventure he is involved in. What new and interesting anecdote does he have? But in reality, while most days are like how Ameer portrays them, there are other days. The Bad, No Good, Terrible Alexander Days. The ones where you want to move to Australia.
Today, inshallah, will be a real glimpse into one of those days. It will be a slightly unbiased portrayal of the way we spend those day, worthy of TIME magazine.
Tafadhal.
5:30- Adhan is made at Masjid Safa with blasters. I'm serious, the loudspeakers could wake up the dead. I guess that explains why everyone is awake at Cairo, 24-7.
5:42- Ameer groaning, gets out of bed. Mustafa, lying on the ground after being knocked out of bed from the noise, gets back in.
5:50- Ameer makes wudhu. In other words, the primordial Flood reapears, refilling the Nile and restarting life.
5:55- Ameer leaves the house for Fajr. Mustafa scrubs his limbs vigorously and (kharajas) the (bait).
6:00- Mustafa arrives at the Masjid, barely getting time to pray his Sunnah. Imam takes his time to recite Surat Al Baqarah.
6:45- Ameer and Mustafa reenter the house. Mustafa searches for water, but finds Ameer has used it for wudhu water (No, just kidding, that never happens). Mustafa, in desperation, collapses on bed.
11:45- "UUUHHHH...." Mustafa groans for 15 minutes. It feels like someone squashed him to sleep. Meanwhile, Ameer is proceeding to his clock work jail like excersise schedule. This involves his does 3 sets of 50 knuckle push ups on the cold marble (I have no clue if this is true, but the concrete in Whitecroft Hall feels much softer). Afterwards, he looks at his bruised and bloodied knuckles, grinning happily. Mustafa climbs out of bed into the shower.
1:00- Mustafa exits the shower. Inhales breakfast (whatever crumbs Ameer managed to leave. For some reason, Ameer's appetite has quadrupled since coming to Cairo. I guess that's what people are always raving about when they come back to Canada, "Oh, you must feel the air of Cairo. The place where all those great people walked and taught and spoke and ate and ate and ate...").
1:15- Mustafa, staring in shock at the clock, realizes that his time to do homework is minimal.
2:45- Mustafa runs to Al Diwan. Ameer has already gracefully lofted to Al Diwan a full thirty minutes before class (His teacher likes him to be punctual, according to Ameer.)
3:00- Mustafa begins class with Ustadh Ayman. The first two hours are a true learning experience.
5:00- Mustafa begins to get restless. Class seems like it's going to be a long one as Mustafa is confused by Allathee and Allatee (by the way, if Farooq bhai is reading this, I had serious deja vu when I heard the explanation of that. Luckily, Farooq bhai had already told me the English equivalent almost a month and a half ago on that lunch at our house, when we actually decided to come to Cairo.
6:00- Mustafa's brain has gone into a brain freeze. Absolute stasis.
7:00- Mustafa's brain becomes a clock. 7:01:01...7:01:02...7:01:03...
7:30- Mustafa goes on his knees for a break. His teacher chooses this as a great time for a lesson in Arabic grammar (jumil ismia and jumil fialeay) (Ameer does the arabic spellings so well, doesn't he).
8:00- Mustafa staggers out of Al Diwan. He manages to make it to Tomatoes, where the cashier, Muhammad, who has taken the role of Interrogater, grills him on what his lesson was on, Fee Lugha Al Arabi. The only problem is, the Muhammad Interrogater only knows Lugha Al Ameea, which makes for a lot of pointing, head shaking, and angry little boys.
8:30- Ameer and Mustafa eat and head to internet cafe. Ammi asks, "Why do you look so tired today?"
10:00- Ameer and Mustafa make sincere, sincere, sincere dua that inshallah, inshallah, inshallah, tommorow will be better than today.
Jazakallah.
And for Today, Stay Calm, Be Brave, and Wait for the Signs.
Wasalam.
Assalamualaikum.
In my opinion, there are two ways to view the way we spend time in Al Qahira. One is Ameer's way. I make sure to read his blog every day to see what new and idealistic adventure he is involved in. What new and interesting anecdote does he have? But in reality, while most days are like how Ameer portrays them, there are other days. The Bad, No Good, Terrible Alexander Days. The ones where you want to move to Australia.
Today, inshallah, will be a real glimpse into one of those days. It will be a slightly unbiased portrayal of the way we spend those day, worthy of TIME magazine.
Tafadhal.
5:30- Adhan is made at Masjid Safa with blasters. I'm serious, the loudspeakers could wake up the dead. I guess that explains why everyone is awake at Cairo, 24-7.
5:42- Ameer groaning, gets out of bed. Mustafa, lying on the ground after being knocked out of bed from the noise, gets back in.
5:50- Ameer makes wudhu. In other words, the primordial Flood reapears, refilling the Nile and restarting life.
5:55- Ameer leaves the house for Fajr. Mustafa scrubs his limbs vigorously and (kharajas) the (bait).
6:00- Mustafa arrives at the Masjid, barely getting time to pray his Sunnah. Imam takes his time to recite Surat Al Baqarah.
6:45- Ameer and Mustafa reenter the house. Mustafa searches for water, but finds Ameer has used it for wudhu water (No, just kidding, that never happens). Mustafa, in desperation, collapses on bed.
11:45- "UUUHHHH...." Mustafa groans for 15 minutes. It feels like someone squashed him to sleep. Meanwhile, Ameer is proceeding to his clock work jail like excersise schedule. This involves his does 3 sets of 50 knuckle push ups on the cold marble (I have no clue if this is true, but the concrete in Whitecroft Hall feels much softer). Afterwards, he looks at his bruised and bloodied knuckles, grinning happily. Mustafa climbs out of bed into the shower.
1:00- Mustafa exits the shower. Inhales breakfast (whatever crumbs Ameer managed to leave. For some reason, Ameer's appetite has quadrupled since coming to Cairo. I guess that's what people are always raving about when they come back to Canada, "Oh, you must feel the air of Cairo. The place where all those great people walked and taught and spoke and ate and ate and ate...").
1:15- Mustafa, staring in shock at the clock, realizes that his time to do homework is minimal.
2:45- Mustafa runs to Al Diwan. Ameer has already gracefully lofted to Al Diwan a full thirty minutes before class (His teacher likes him to be punctual, according to Ameer.)
3:00- Mustafa begins class with Ustadh Ayman. The first two hours are a true learning experience.
5:00- Mustafa begins to get restless. Class seems like it's going to be a long one as Mustafa is confused by Allathee and Allatee (by the way, if Farooq bhai is reading this, I had serious deja vu when I heard the explanation of that. Luckily, Farooq bhai had already told me the English equivalent almost a month and a half ago on that lunch at our house, when we actually decided to come to Cairo.
6:00- Mustafa's brain has gone into a brain freeze. Absolute stasis.
7:00- Mustafa's brain becomes a clock. 7:01:01...7:01:02...7:01:03...
7:30- Mustafa goes on his knees for a break. His teacher chooses this as a great time for a lesson in Arabic grammar (jumil ismia and jumil fialeay) (Ameer does the arabic spellings so well, doesn't he).
8:00- Mustafa staggers out of Al Diwan. He manages to make it to Tomatoes, where the cashier, Muhammad, who has taken the role of Interrogater, grills him on what his lesson was on, Fee Lugha Al Arabi. The only problem is, the Muhammad Interrogater only knows Lugha Al Ameea, which makes for a lot of pointing, head shaking, and angry little boys.
8:30- Ameer and Mustafa eat and head to internet cafe. Ammi asks, "Why do you look so tired today?"
10:00- Ameer and Mustafa make sincere, sincere, sincere dua that inshallah, inshallah, inshallah, tommorow will be better than today.
Jazakallah.
And for Today, Stay Calm, Be Brave, and Wait for the Signs.
Wasalam.
Proverbs
Assalam u alaikum,
Insha'allah I am going to pay my landlord today. Like you said, Ammi, it's better if I pay a few days before than wait for him to tell me. So I am meeting him insha'allah at nine o'clock at our apartment to give him the rent insha'allah.
I've been learning a lot of interesting Arabic proverbs and expressions in this new volume of Kitab-ul-Assissi. Here's the ones that I remember, the nearest I can translate it in English:
"Time is like gold. "
"The customer is always on the truth." i.e. is always right.
"Whoever lives, will see. " (said whenever you see something kind of strange or something like that).
"Learning in childhood is like carving in stone, but learning in old age is like carving in water."
I think this one is from Imam Ali (RA), but I am not sure:
"Work for your dunya as if you will live forever, and work for your akhira as if you will die tomorrow."
And I think this one is a hadith but again, I am not sure so don't quote me:
"Whoever is working for the needs of his brother (fi haajah akhih), Allah will work for his needs on the Day of Judgement."
My teacher and I had a huge laugh when he tried to translate these sayings into aamiya. You have to hear it to believe it.
All right talk to you all soon.
Ma'asalam
~Ameer
Insha'allah I am going to pay my landlord today. Like you said, Ammi, it's better if I pay a few days before than wait for him to tell me. So I am meeting him insha'allah at nine o'clock at our apartment to give him the rent insha'allah.
I've been learning a lot of interesting Arabic proverbs and expressions in this new volume of Kitab-ul-Assissi. Here's the ones that I remember, the nearest I can translate it in English:
"Time is like gold. "
"The customer is always on the truth." i.e. is always right.
"Whoever lives, will see. " (said whenever you see something kind of strange or something like that).
"Learning in childhood is like carving in stone, but learning in old age is like carving in water."
I think this one is from Imam Ali (RA), but I am not sure:
"Work for your dunya as if you will live forever, and work for your akhira as if you will die tomorrow."
And I think this one is a hadith but again, I am not sure so don't quote me:
"Whoever is working for the needs of his brother (fi haajah akhih), Allah will work for his needs on the Day of Judgement."
My teacher and I had a huge laugh when he tried to translate these sayings into aamiya. You have to hear it to believe it.
All right talk to you all soon.
Ma'asalam
~Ameer
Monday, March 12, 2007
What to Do
Assalam u alaikum,
Alhamdulillah I am doing fine and my classes are going well. I am a bit tired today so I want to go home early. Nothing much going on. Mustafa masha'allah cleaned the washroom today so I am VERY happy about that (it's his day off, so that's what I make him do in his spare time *grin*).
Today we were studying the various government systems present in Arabic countries. No enlightening experiences there. Basically they are either monarchies or pseudo-democracies (dictatorships) which my teacher made fun of very subtly.
I think Prego's burgers are soporiphic (did I spell that right?). At the end of class I was so tired I felt like crying, but I am much better now. It's getting a little trying to have Tomatoes all the time, but insha'allah we'll have Malaysian food on Thursday night or Friday night.
Those pictures Mustafa posted look cool, man. Where does he find these places? and those crazy looking boys with hairy faces? They look like aliens or something.
I hope everyone in Edmonton and Pakistan and everywhere is in the best of iman and health. They're precious commodities, you know.
Ma'asalam,
~Ameer
p.s. Oh I forgot to tell: Ammo Tamir's cousin phoned (his name is Tarek I think). I asked him to talk to me in Arabic, and I understood everything he said, but when I went to write down his phone number I forgot his name, so I looked in my diary and I thought he might be Ammo Tamer's brother so I asked, "Hal anta Mohammed el-Soukkary?" Then he got irritated and said, "Okay, I don't think you are understanding me, so I'll talk in English." Anyways he was very nice and offered to take us around Cairo. Jazakallah khairan to Ammo Tamir.
Alhamdulillah I am doing fine and my classes are going well. I am a bit tired today so I want to go home early. Nothing much going on. Mustafa masha'allah cleaned the washroom today so I am VERY happy about that (it's his day off, so that's what I make him do in his spare time *grin*).
Today we were studying the various government systems present in Arabic countries. No enlightening experiences there. Basically they are either monarchies or pseudo-democracies (dictatorships) which my teacher made fun of very subtly.
I think Prego's burgers are soporiphic (did I spell that right?). At the end of class I was so tired I felt like crying, but I am much better now. It's getting a little trying to have Tomatoes all the time, but insha'allah we'll have Malaysian food on Thursday night or Friday night.
Those pictures Mustafa posted look cool, man. Where does he find these places? and those crazy looking boys with hairy faces? They look like aliens or something.
I hope everyone in Edmonton and Pakistan and everywhere is in the best of iman and health. They're precious commodities, you know.
Ma'asalam,
~Ameer
p.s. Oh I forgot to tell: Ammo Tamir's cousin phoned (his name is Tarek I think). I asked him to talk to me in Arabic, and I understood everything he said, but when I went to write down his phone number I forgot his name, so I looked in my diary and I thought he might be Ammo Tamer's brother so I asked, "Hal anta Mohammed el-Soukkary?" Then he got irritated and said, "Okay, I don't think you are understanding me, so I'll talk in English." Anyways he was very nice and offered to take us around Cairo. Jazakallah khairan to Ammo Tamir.
Ameer looks up at our apartment
Sorry about not writing about the pics. I'll have something more detailed up straight away.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Fakka
Assalam u alaikum,
I hope everyone is doing well, because alhamdulillah I am doing very well. Whoever posted those comments (and you know who you are)...keep them coming. It's what I live on. I guess part of writing is knowing someone is reading what you write, and getting feedback. Not praise, feedback. So jazakumullahu khairan.
I hope everyone is doing well, because alhamdulillah I am doing very well. Whoever posted those comments (and you know who you are)...keep them coming. It's what I live on. I guess part of writing is knowing someone is reading what you write, and getting feedback. Not praise, feedback. So jazakumullahu khairan.
In Egypt people have this obsession with getting change for their money (known as fucca or fukka in aamiya). Everyone is constantly trying to break the big bills (like 100 guineas) into smaller notes, preferably one or two guineas. Even clerks at restaurants or big stores will ask you for change "nus guinea?" (do you have half a guinea?). It was rather funny for us Canadians, until we realized that delivery people don't carry change with them. If you don't have the right change, they'll take the whole codswallop, even if you're giving them seventy-five guinea extra. One time I ordered from Prego's, and the total was 22.50 Egyptian pounds. I only had a 100 guinea bill, so the delivery man and I went on a giant expedition to all the nearby grocery stores to see if they had change for a 100 guinea. They acted as if we had asked them to give a pound of flesh or something. "Wallahi mash indi fakka." (I swear by Allah that I don't have any change). Anyways we managed to do the impossible and get enough change, wal hamdulillah.
I am sorry Abu, when you called I was in class. I tried phoning you back, but no one picked up. I am here at the Internet cafe as well and no one is online. That's fine insha'allah, I'll talk to you guys tomorrow insha'allah. Also tell Uncle Syed Hasan that it was great hearing from him. I remember him and Adil and his family all the time and I really appreciate the advice they gave to us.
Today we started on Arabic geography. I feel like I'm in Grade Five again, learning all the different countries where Arabic is spoken, the compass points (north, south, east, west), and the names of the major oceans surrounding the countries of Arabic. Speaking for myself, I know precisely nothing about the places where most Muslims live, except a little about Pakistan. It was a new experience for me, and a thought-provoking one.
So children, until next episode of Canadians in Cairo, make sure you always have the right amount of change.
Stay Calm, Be Brave, and Wait for the Signs.
Du'a.
Please.
Ma'asalam,
~Ameer
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Nothing Much
Assalam u alaikum,
Sometimes I get really annoyed with myself. I find myself wasting time, lounging about doing nothing because it's supposed to be my "free day." I was surprised to find out today that I have a holiday (today is Saturday, and usually the only day I have off is Friday). I was initally very happy about that because I wasn't completely finished my homework. However, it soon becomes apparent there isn't very much to do in Cairo besides studying. I finished my homework, slept a couple of hours, then what? I am also seriously thinking about chucking that television off our balcony. I am always having this perpetual pipe dream of being able to watch English Premiership soccer but it is never on. Instead there is this guy droning on and on about Al-Ahly or about the one penalty he scored against Ethipia seventy-five years ago and compound that with the fact that he's talking in ammiya.
In a way I guess it's a good thing. I don't want to be wasting time watching television anyways...argh! I wonder what a television looks like after falling from the eighth floor of a building...
Anyways alhamdulillah everything else is fine. Now the Arabic homework is getting a lot more technical and more focused on grammar rules. Insha'allah everyone keep up the dua's. "I'm gonna need it." (Khadija, Abdullah, Sauleha, did you pick up that little reference?)
I never realized how important it is to draw a map to scale until I saw the Al-Diwan. Totally out to lunch. I thought that Uncle Mahdi and Aunty Nicole's house would be far away, because their house is behind KFC and KFC looked really far away from our house on the map. Turns out they live about 7 minutes walking distance from us. I didn't actually go to their house, but I was exploring a bit and I found all these other restaurants behind Siraj Mall that I never noticed before and one of them was KFC.
Siraj Mall somehow seems like it's even bigger than West Edmonton Mall. I don't know why, because it's rather small compared to Canadian malls, but I guess I'm so used to seeing little corner shops that an actual mall looks like a giant abyss. I also don't understand how they can manage to fit twelve sheesha cafes in one mall (okay, slight exaggeration, but it really stinks in there! And to think that people actually like that STUFF!!! Apparently in Britain, according to Arif bhai, sheesha or hookah is a really big part of the Islamic Campus Cool Cats get-togethers. Since they can't hang out at your average English pub, they all go to the sheesha bar and smoke hooka. I sincerely hope the MSA doesn't get any ideas.)
Nothing else much is happening. This post was kind of pointless, but seeing as thousands of people are reading my blog and are dying for the next exciting episode of Canadians in Cairo, I had to write something!
Pipe dreams.
Ma'salam,
~Ameer
Sometimes I get really annoyed with myself. I find myself wasting time, lounging about doing nothing because it's supposed to be my "free day." I was surprised to find out today that I have a holiday (today is Saturday, and usually the only day I have off is Friday). I was initally very happy about that because I wasn't completely finished my homework. However, it soon becomes apparent there isn't very much to do in Cairo besides studying. I finished my homework, slept a couple of hours, then what? I am also seriously thinking about chucking that television off our balcony. I am always having this perpetual pipe dream of being able to watch English Premiership soccer but it is never on. Instead there is this guy droning on and on about Al-Ahly or about the one penalty he scored against Ethipia seventy-five years ago and compound that with the fact that he's talking in ammiya.
In a way I guess it's a good thing. I don't want to be wasting time watching television anyways...argh! I wonder what a television looks like after falling from the eighth floor of a building...
Anyways alhamdulillah everything else is fine. Now the Arabic homework is getting a lot more technical and more focused on grammar rules. Insha'allah everyone keep up the dua's. "I'm gonna need it." (Khadija, Abdullah, Sauleha, did you pick up that little reference?)
I never realized how important it is to draw a map to scale until I saw the Al-Diwan. Totally out to lunch. I thought that Uncle Mahdi and Aunty Nicole's house would be far away, because their house is behind KFC and KFC looked really far away from our house on the map. Turns out they live about 7 minutes walking distance from us. I didn't actually go to their house, but I was exploring a bit and I found all these other restaurants behind Siraj Mall that I never noticed before and one of them was KFC.
Siraj Mall somehow seems like it's even bigger than West Edmonton Mall. I don't know why, because it's rather small compared to Canadian malls, but I guess I'm so used to seeing little corner shops that an actual mall looks like a giant abyss. I also don't understand how they can manage to fit twelve sheesha cafes in one mall (okay, slight exaggeration, but it really stinks in there! And to think that people actually like that STUFF!!! Apparently in Britain, according to Arif bhai, sheesha or hookah is a really big part of the Islamic Campus Cool Cats get-togethers. Since they can't hang out at your average English pub, they all go to the sheesha bar and smoke hooka. I sincerely hope the MSA doesn't get any ideas.)
Nothing else much is happening. This post was kind of pointless, but seeing as thousands of people are reading my blog and are dying for the next exciting episode of Canadians in Cairo, I had to write something!
Pipe dreams.
Ma'salam,
~Ameer
Thursday, March 8, 2007
Sky Surfing
Assalam u alaikum,
Alhamdulillah I am doing fine (I think I've started every single post with that statement. Let's try something else.)
ALHAMDULILLAH I AM FEELING AMAZING WAL HAMDULILLAH!!!!!!!
Today we started Book 2 of Kitab ul Assassi. I had my test today for Level 4. Silly mistakes, silly mistakes, you all know the number. I know the rules perfectly for kaana and inna but I forgot to look at both the mubtada' and the khabr, so I made a few mistakes.
(Don't worry, I am not actually mad I just have to grouse a bit after everything. Maybe it's the fact I didn't drink tea today.)
:)
This new book looks a lot more interesting than the first one, although it seems that it will also be somewhat of a promotional for Arabic culture and I bet the Arab satellite Farooq bhai mentioned will be in this book somewhere. (By the way Farooq bhai I have your teacher's number, don't let me forget to give it to you.)
Everyone please try to encourage me to talk, talk, TALK in Arabic. Unless I talk all the time to everyone, I won't be able to speak really well. And I want these four months to have the maximum benefit. Like Uncle Syed Hasan said, "Just talk to everyone and use every moment."
I'm pretty sure the advice that our friends gave us before we left will be momentous golden statements that will go down in history. They sure help me a lot, like Uncle Imran's, "Choose the greater of the two goods and the lesser of the two evils." Or Adil's, "Remember what you're there for." Or even Hadi's, "Drink bottled water!"
Sometimes I feel so funny in Cairo. Everything seems to have metaphysical significance. Take the word harf. A harf is a grammatical element of a sentence, roughly a preposition in English. But the crazy thing about a harf is that it doesn't mean anything without the rest of the sentence. When my teacher was telling me about this, I immediately remembered the ayah in the Qur'an about people worshipping Allah a'la harf; I know that in the ayah the meaning is something different, but everything is related to the root word. Worshipping Allah, but not really meaning anything.
And by the way, that tea thing was blown a little of proportion. I just like the colour of the tea as the sunlight shines through it, not really the tea itself (I don't really drink tea; I drink sugar with a little bit of tea added). I am not yet a vampire, and I don't intend on becoming one insha'allah.
Insha'allah we are going to play soccer tomorrow insha'allah. My teacher Ustadh Ibrahim may becoming from his house (an hour away) to play with us insha'allah! Stay tuned for more hilarious stories involving Ameer's marathon running, Mustafa's 25th goal, and my teacher berating me in Arabic!
Riklaah! (Shoot!)
Ma'asalam,
~Ameer
00923003456755
Alhamdulillah I am doing fine (I think I've started every single post with that statement. Let's try something else.)
ALHAMDULILLAH I AM FEELING AMAZING WAL HAMDULILLAH!!!!!!!
Today we started Book 2 of Kitab ul Assassi. I had my test today for Level 4. Silly mistakes, silly mistakes, you all know the number. I know the rules perfectly for kaana and inna but I forgot to look at both the mubtada' and the khabr, so I made a few mistakes.
(Don't worry, I am not actually mad I just have to grouse a bit after everything. Maybe it's the fact I didn't drink tea today.)
:)
This new book looks a lot more interesting than the first one, although it seems that it will also be somewhat of a promotional for Arabic culture and I bet the Arab satellite Farooq bhai mentioned will be in this book somewhere. (By the way Farooq bhai I have your teacher's number, don't let me forget to give it to you.)
Everyone please try to encourage me to talk, talk, TALK in Arabic. Unless I talk all the time to everyone, I won't be able to speak really well. And I want these four months to have the maximum benefit. Like Uncle Syed Hasan said, "Just talk to everyone and use every moment."
I'm pretty sure the advice that our friends gave us before we left will be momentous golden statements that will go down in history. They sure help me a lot, like Uncle Imran's, "Choose the greater of the two goods and the lesser of the two evils." Or Adil's, "Remember what you're there for." Or even Hadi's, "Drink bottled water!"
Sometimes I feel so funny in Cairo. Everything seems to have metaphysical significance. Take the word harf. A harf is a grammatical element of a sentence, roughly a preposition in English. But the crazy thing about a harf is that it doesn't mean anything without the rest of the sentence. When my teacher was telling me about this, I immediately remembered the ayah in the Qur'an about people worshipping Allah a'la harf; I know that in the ayah the meaning is something different, but everything is related to the root word. Worshipping Allah, but not really meaning anything.
And by the way, that tea thing was blown a little of proportion. I just like the colour of the tea as the sunlight shines through it, not really the tea itself (I don't really drink tea; I drink sugar with a little bit of tea added). I am not yet a vampire, and I don't intend on becoming one insha'allah.
Insha'allah we are going to play soccer tomorrow insha'allah. My teacher Ustadh Ibrahim may becoming from his house (an hour away) to play with us insha'allah! Stay tuned for more hilarious stories involving Ameer's marathon running, Mustafa's 25th goal, and my teacher berating me in Arabic!
Riklaah! (Shoot!)
Ma'asalam,
~Ameer
00923003456755
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Humour
Assalam u alaikum,
I just read Mustafa's entry and I was kind of jealous of him (no, not hasad or anything, the brotherly kind). His entries are pretty funny, wouldn't you agree?
He does exaggerate a little bit, admittedly. He makes it seem like I'm some sort of vampire, full of energy and always planning my next victim, most likely Mustafa. He also forgot to mention that I spent the entire game running a marathon, while he, the little twerp, scored four goals! (and he was on the opposite team!)
(Mustafa is a great pal and I am actually really happy he's finally found his niche on the pitch: poaching.)
Ma'asalam,
Ameer
I just read Mustafa's entry and I was kind of jealous of him (no, not hasad or anything, the brotherly kind). His entries are pretty funny, wouldn't you agree?
He does exaggerate a little bit, admittedly. He makes it seem like I'm some sort of vampire, full of energy and always planning my next victim, most likely Mustafa. He also forgot to mention that I spent the entire game running a marathon, while he, the little twerp, scored four goals! (and he was on the opposite team!)
(Mustafa is a great pal and I am actually really happy he's finally found his niche on the pitch: poaching.)
Ma'asalam,
Ameer
Love Machines
Assalam u alaikum,
I saw a man with a shirt that said, "Love Machine" on the back of it. I thought that was neat idea. Someone who never runs out of love. That's how we all are, I guess, if we only knew it.
Alhamdulillah everything is going well. This muhaddathah stage is hard because I am expected to memorize all the words that we learn during class and bring them into conversation. There aren't hardly as many exercises but we talk a lot. I think my teacher knows as much about Canada as any Canadian now. We've talked about the health care system, the education system, the economy, anything you can think of. That's the whole point of this stage, is to talk as much as possible and use all the rules and words that you already know in conversation.
I think I'm getting addicted to tea. Egyptian tea is so much better than the tea that we Pakistanis drink. The brand that they have at Al-Diwan is called aroosah which means basically "maiden"; a girl just before marriage and just after is called an aroosah. Nice name, huh? The colour of the tea is a pure ruby red, and we drink it in actual glasses, not mugs, so you can see the light sifting through the liquid, turning it into ambrosia within your mind. I don't think I'm actually physically addicted yet, but the problem is I forget to bring water and I get really thirsty, and Mustafa ordered me not to drink tap water and then I have no choice and...you get the picture. I drink a cup of tea almost everyday with my teacher during the break. That's also part of it; there's the whole mystique of the student drinking tea with his teacher surrounded by a pool of light on the third floor of a building on a busy Cairo street.
I will try to bring my own water because I definitely do not want any more addictions.
Alhamdulillah everything is good. I just remembered that I put the bedsheets in the wash and I forgot to put it out to dry. I'll put it out when I get home insha'allah.
The bawwab (literally, gatekeeper, but he's more like the custodian/guard/jack-of-all trades who lives in the building and takes care of everything) has the cutest son in the whole world. His name is Kareem and he plays this game with us where we growl at him and he growls back. The only word he can say is, "Ammo!"
May Allah make us love machines.
Ma'asalam,
~Ameer
I saw a man with a shirt that said, "Love Machine" on the back of it. I thought that was neat idea. Someone who never runs out of love. That's how we all are, I guess, if we only knew it.
Alhamdulillah everything is going well. This muhaddathah stage is hard because I am expected to memorize all the words that we learn during class and bring them into conversation. There aren't hardly as many exercises but we talk a lot. I think my teacher knows as much about Canada as any Canadian now. We've talked about the health care system, the education system, the economy, anything you can think of. That's the whole point of this stage, is to talk as much as possible and use all the rules and words that you already know in conversation.
I think I'm getting addicted to tea. Egyptian tea is so much better than the tea that we Pakistanis drink. The brand that they have at Al-Diwan is called aroosah which means basically "maiden"; a girl just before marriage and just after is called an aroosah. Nice name, huh? The colour of the tea is a pure ruby red, and we drink it in actual glasses, not mugs, so you can see the light sifting through the liquid, turning it into ambrosia within your mind. I don't think I'm actually physically addicted yet, but the problem is I forget to bring water and I get really thirsty, and Mustafa ordered me not to drink tap water and then I have no choice and...you get the picture. I drink a cup of tea almost everyday with my teacher during the break. That's also part of it; there's the whole mystique of the student drinking tea with his teacher surrounded by a pool of light on the third floor of a building on a busy Cairo street.
I will try to bring my own water because I definitely do not want any more addictions.
Alhamdulillah everything is good. I just remembered that I put the bedsheets in the wash and I forgot to put it out to dry. I'll put it out when I get home insha'allah.
The bawwab (literally, gatekeeper, but he's more like the custodian/guard/jack-of-all trades who lives in the building and takes care of everything) has the cutest son in the whole world. His name is Kareem and he plays this game with us where we growl at him and he growls back. The only word he can say is, "Ammo!"
May Allah make us love machines.
Ma'asalam,
~Ameer
Sunday, March 4, 2007
Soccer Dreams
Bismillah
Hazrat Ali once said something to the effect of, "Youth is madness". He really had it right.
It started last week when Ameer asked his teacher if there was anybody who played soccer around here. Ustad Ibrahim did know of someone who played: a man named Atiq from London. Ameer met Atiq soon after, and was told that we were going to play soccer in a "grassy" field next Friday. Atiq told us to call him on Thursday.
Of course, one thing leads to the next. Between homework, Al Diwan, Tomatoes, and sleeping, the fateful Thursday came and passed. At 11:00 Thursday night, I and Ameer (in Arabic, "I" comes first). Atiq hadn't replied to our repeated calls.
"Alright then," said Ameer, "Here's the plan. We show up at Bilal Masjid tommorow for Fajr."
"WHAT! Fajr is at 5:20! It takes 20 minutes to get to Bilal Masjid. It'll take us 10 minutes to get ready."
"Good estimation Mustafa. We must both get up at 4:45 tommorow."
The next day, probably at 4:30, Ameer jumped out of bed, I groggily swam out, highly irritable. We pulled on our Nikes and as Ameer said, "Briskly walked". To me it seemed like, "Sprint for 10 minutes".
We prayed Fajr at Bilal Masjid. After prayer, Ameer used the cell phone to call Atiq. I didn't hear the phone call, but I did hear Ameer speaking into it.
"Salam. This is Ameer."
"You know, the Ameer you told last week you could take to soccer?"
"Mmmmhmmm. You're sick with fever? And you don't want to play?"
"Good good. Meet you at the crossroads."
Ameer never satisfactoraly explained what went on during the conversation, but said we would meet Atiq at the crossroads of Abbas al Aqqad and another street. What the other street was, Ameer would not reveal. As there are hundreds of streets meeting Abbas al Akkad, my irritation began to surface and I began to whine bitterly.
"Mustafa, you must have some patience. This virtue will help in your studies too!" With that quip, Ameer began to boldly walk down Abbas al Akkad.
In the Alchemist, there is a principle noted as Beginners Luck. When a person is on a way to a goal, everything in the universe transpires to help him at the beginning. Straight off, Ameer met Atiq. Atiq turned out to be a thin, thin, Londoner who had spent the last week with a burning fever.
We boarded a micro bus (little white vans with drivers who have no speed limits), zoomed off a hill, and got to the "Green Field." I have never played soccer in a car park before.
After all, in Cairo, there has to be a first.
-Mustafa.
Hazrat Ali once said something to the effect of, "Youth is madness". He really had it right.
It started last week when Ameer asked his teacher if there was anybody who played soccer around here. Ustad Ibrahim did know of someone who played: a man named Atiq from London. Ameer met Atiq soon after, and was told that we were going to play soccer in a "grassy" field next Friday. Atiq told us to call him on Thursday.
Of course, one thing leads to the next. Between homework, Al Diwan, Tomatoes, and sleeping, the fateful Thursday came and passed. At 11:00 Thursday night, I and Ameer (in Arabic, "I" comes first). Atiq hadn't replied to our repeated calls.
"Alright then," said Ameer, "Here's the plan. We show up at Bilal Masjid tommorow for Fajr."
"WHAT! Fajr is at 5:20! It takes 20 minutes to get to Bilal Masjid. It'll take us 10 minutes to get ready."
"Good estimation Mustafa. We must both get up at 4:45 tommorow."
The next day, probably at 4:30, Ameer jumped out of bed, I groggily swam out, highly irritable. We pulled on our Nikes and as Ameer said, "Briskly walked". To me it seemed like, "Sprint for 10 minutes".
We prayed Fajr at Bilal Masjid. After prayer, Ameer used the cell phone to call Atiq. I didn't hear the phone call, but I did hear Ameer speaking into it.
"Salam. This is Ameer."
"You know, the Ameer you told last week you could take to soccer?"
"Mmmmhmmm. You're sick with fever? And you don't want to play?"
"Good good. Meet you at the crossroads."
Ameer never satisfactoraly explained what went on during the conversation, but said we would meet Atiq at the crossroads of Abbas al Aqqad and another street. What the other street was, Ameer would not reveal. As there are hundreds of streets meeting Abbas al Akkad, my irritation began to surface and I began to whine bitterly.
"Mustafa, you must have some patience. This virtue will help in your studies too!" With that quip, Ameer began to boldly walk down Abbas al Akkad.
In the Alchemist, there is a principle noted as Beginners Luck. When a person is on a way to a goal, everything in the universe transpires to help him at the beginning. Straight off, Ameer met Atiq. Atiq turned out to be a thin, thin, Londoner who had spent the last week with a burning fever.
We boarded a micro bus (little white vans with drivers who have no speed limits), zoomed off a hill, and got to the "Green Field." I have never played soccer in a car park before.
After all, in Cairo, there has to be a first.
-Mustafa.
Saturday, March 3, 2007
Al-Azhar
Assalam u alaikum,
I hope everyone everywhere is doing well and in the best of health and iman. Alhamdulillah I'm doing well and my classes are going really well. I had my test for Level III today and I did the first lesson in Level 4 (Muhaddathah). I have my oral test tomorrow with Mr. Waleed, so just pray that I do well in that. That's what counts, right? My ability to speak Arabic, not just know all the rules.
Going to Masjid Al-Azhar yesterday was surreal. That's the word that keeps popping up in my head. Surreal. Going on those narrow streets, seeing the minarets soaring above you, walking in a masjid a thousand years old...it's an non-reproducible experience. Subhanallah.
We went there with the intention of getting a grammar book (Al-Nahw al-wadhih) and a dictionary book (Al-Qamus al-Waseet). A really nice student from Al-Diwan named Arif came along with us to help look. From Arif bhai (he's Pakistani and lives in London) I truly learned about hospitality. He helped us with no intention of any kind of reward and gave up almost half his day to help us find these books. It would have been so much harder without him. May Allah reward him with the best rewards.
After a half an hour taxi ride (this time without getting ripped off), we arrived at Shari' Al-Azhar. That first sight of the masjid was one of those moments when time stands still. For the first time I understood why people keep harping on and on about an "Islamic civilization." Sometimes I would get a little frustrated, "I know there was an Islamic civilization! But what about right now, huh? Why do you keep looking in the past all the time??!!" But at that moment, I understood. We have a history. We're not just lily pads with no roots, floating dead in the water. We came from somewhere, and we're going somewhere insha'allah. "You have forgotten who you are, Simba," I remember from somewhere. But don't worry, we will remember, insha'allah.
The first thing we did was go to Masjid Al-Azhar and pray Jum'ah. I was unfortunately very tired from playing soccer in the morning (insha'allah Mustafa is going to write about that) so I didn't understand very much. Actually I forgot to mention that before the khutbah we listened to qirat of a really famous reciter. He was reading Surah Al'-Imran,
"And by the Mercy of Allâh, you dealt with them gently. And had you been severe and harshhearted, they would have broken away from about you... If Allâh helps you, none can overcome you; and if He forsakes you, who is there after Him that can help you? And in Allâh (Alone) let believers put their trust."
At that last ayah everyone in the audience recited, "la ilaha ghayruka ya Allah" (there is no god apart from you O Allah [that can help us afterwards]." I got shivers up my spine. I was one with my people and my Allah.
I was struck by the fact that unfortunately neither the qari or the khateeb had a beard. That made me kind of sad. Afterwards I found out that many Egyptians, including my teacher Ustadh Ibrahim, have never been to Al-Azhar because the imam is controlled by the government and isn't allowed to say what he wants to, consequently making people like my teacher disgusted by the watered-down khutbahs. But it was very beautiful to pray in Al-Azhar. Like I said, surreal.
Afterwards we began our search for the books. I thought it would be simple, like how we do it in Canada. We go to one bookstore or maximum two bookstores and we have the book. No such luck (mis-luck?).
"Assalam u alaikum."
"Wa alaikumusalam."
"Kayf halak?"
"Alhamdulillah, quwayis."
Hal indaka al-nahw al-wadih?"
"Laa wallahi."
"Aw al-qamus al-waseet?"
"Laa wallahi."
Again and again and again.
It was fun though (it would have been even more enjoyable had our legs not been completely exhausted from soccer). Walking in the winding streets where all the bookstores were clustered all together. It was like we had stepped back a couple hundred centuries and we were in the old streets of Cairo. The only time we would be jerked back to reality would be when we see a gaggle of Egyptians around two foreigners with a camera (it's funny I don't think of myself as a foreigner anymore), trying to get themselves in the video. Or when we went to buy some pepsi (please Ammi don't be mad we needed to get some sugar into us otherwise we would have collapsed) from a coffee shop and the guy said the price for one pepsi was 10 guineas! Usually a pepsi is one guinea.
When we laughed at him, he said, "Hey dis is a cofi shop. If you want pepsi for one guinea, then grocery over there is." (No he didn't talk like Yoda he talked like a very annoyed Egyptian.)
Alhamdulillah we did manage to find the books, and then we left for home with Arif bhai in the taxi. Of course, getting home is not just a simple matter of getting of the taxi at our house. It always has to be a little more complicated.
In front of our house is a Caltex station. The landlord had said that this Caltex station was "very famous" so I assumed that there was only one Caltex station in Nasr City. So of course, being the smart person I am, as soon as I saw a Caltex station I thought, "Hey, instead of going all the way to Abbas Al-Akkad (where Arif bhai was getting off) and then walking back, why don't I get off now?" So I said, "Qif," to the taxi driver and Mustafa and I got off. Only then we realized that we were standing in front of the wrong Caltex station. I guess our Caltex station is "famous" for a reason other than being the only station in Nasr City.
Eventually we took another taxi and got home alhamdulillah. We were so thirsty and exhausted we bought another pepsi bottle each from a little stand by our house and sat on the curb, drinking pepsi. I have to say, sitting there drinking pepsi with sun shining golden through the bottle after visiting The Azhar was one of the nicest experiences in my life. Like I said, surreal.
Evening brought on more sober feelings. Where had everything gone? Hundreds of years ago they could build monuments that pointed to Allah that still evoked awe and wonder. Why was it that now the masjids were empty? Where are those scholars that made Al-Azhar the center of learning? Where our Imam Shafi'is, who is buried in this city? I sat thinking as I watched the fashionably dressed Egyptian youths chatting with "modest" girls and laughing and smoking. But somehow I knew that the Being who made Al-Azhar possible was still there, it was just a matter of us finding him. As I watched the golden setting sun, my heart lifted.
Ma'asalam,
~Ameer
p.s. Besides, who could be sad with the thought of soccer next week, insha'allah?
I hope everyone everywhere is doing well and in the best of health and iman. Alhamdulillah I'm doing well and my classes are going really well. I had my test for Level III today and I did the first lesson in Level 4 (Muhaddathah). I have my oral test tomorrow with Mr. Waleed, so just pray that I do well in that. That's what counts, right? My ability to speak Arabic, not just know all the rules.
Going to Masjid Al-Azhar yesterday was surreal. That's the word that keeps popping up in my head. Surreal. Going on those narrow streets, seeing the minarets soaring above you, walking in a masjid a thousand years old...it's an non-reproducible experience. Subhanallah.
We went there with the intention of getting a grammar book (Al-Nahw al-wadhih) and a dictionary book (Al-Qamus al-Waseet). A really nice student from Al-Diwan named Arif came along with us to help look. From Arif bhai (he's Pakistani and lives in London) I truly learned about hospitality. He helped us with no intention of any kind of reward and gave up almost half his day to help us find these books. It would have been so much harder without him. May Allah reward him with the best rewards.
After a half an hour taxi ride (this time without getting ripped off), we arrived at Shari' Al-Azhar. That first sight of the masjid was one of those moments when time stands still. For the first time I understood why people keep harping on and on about an "Islamic civilization." Sometimes I would get a little frustrated, "I know there was an Islamic civilization! But what about right now, huh? Why do you keep looking in the past all the time??!!" But at that moment, I understood. We have a history. We're not just lily pads with no roots, floating dead in the water. We came from somewhere, and we're going somewhere insha'allah. "You have forgotten who you are, Simba," I remember from somewhere. But don't worry, we will remember, insha'allah.
The first thing we did was go to Masjid Al-Azhar and pray Jum'ah. I was unfortunately very tired from playing soccer in the morning (insha'allah Mustafa is going to write about that) so I didn't understand very much. Actually I forgot to mention that before the khutbah we listened to qirat of a really famous reciter. He was reading Surah Al'-Imran,
"And by the Mercy of Allâh, you dealt with them gently. And had you been severe and harshhearted, they would have broken away from about you... If Allâh helps you, none can overcome you; and if He forsakes you, who is there after Him that can help you? And in Allâh (Alone) let believers put their trust."
At that last ayah everyone in the audience recited, "la ilaha ghayruka ya Allah" (there is no god apart from you O Allah [that can help us afterwards]." I got shivers up my spine. I was one with my people and my Allah.
I was struck by the fact that unfortunately neither the qari or the khateeb had a beard. That made me kind of sad. Afterwards I found out that many Egyptians, including my teacher Ustadh Ibrahim, have never been to Al-Azhar because the imam is controlled by the government and isn't allowed to say what he wants to, consequently making people like my teacher disgusted by the watered-down khutbahs. But it was very beautiful to pray in Al-Azhar. Like I said, surreal.
Afterwards we began our search for the books. I thought it would be simple, like how we do it in Canada. We go to one bookstore or maximum two bookstores and we have the book. No such luck (mis-luck?).
"Assalam u alaikum."
"Wa alaikumusalam."
"Kayf halak?"
"Alhamdulillah, quwayis."
Hal indaka al-nahw al-wadih?"
"Laa wallahi."
"Aw al-qamus al-waseet?"
"Laa wallahi."
Again and again and again.
It was fun though (it would have been even more enjoyable had our legs not been completely exhausted from soccer). Walking in the winding streets where all the bookstores were clustered all together. It was like we had stepped back a couple hundred centuries and we were in the old streets of Cairo. The only time we would be jerked back to reality would be when we see a gaggle of Egyptians around two foreigners with a camera (it's funny I don't think of myself as a foreigner anymore), trying to get themselves in the video. Or when we went to buy some pepsi (please Ammi don't be mad we needed to get some sugar into us otherwise we would have collapsed) from a coffee shop and the guy said the price for one pepsi was 10 guineas! Usually a pepsi is one guinea.
When we laughed at him, he said, "Hey dis is a cofi shop. If you want pepsi for one guinea, then grocery over there is." (No he didn't talk like Yoda he talked like a very annoyed Egyptian.)
Alhamdulillah we did manage to find the books, and then we left for home with Arif bhai in the taxi. Of course, getting home is not just a simple matter of getting of the taxi at our house. It always has to be a little more complicated.
In front of our house is a Caltex station. The landlord had said that this Caltex station was "very famous" so I assumed that there was only one Caltex station in Nasr City. So of course, being the smart person I am, as soon as I saw a Caltex station I thought, "Hey, instead of going all the way to Abbas Al-Akkad (where Arif bhai was getting off) and then walking back, why don't I get off now?" So I said, "Qif," to the taxi driver and Mustafa and I got off. Only then we realized that we were standing in front of the wrong Caltex station. I guess our Caltex station is "famous" for a reason other than being the only station in Nasr City.
Eventually we took another taxi and got home alhamdulillah. We were so thirsty and exhausted we bought another pepsi bottle each from a little stand by our house and sat on the curb, drinking pepsi. I have to say, sitting there drinking pepsi with sun shining golden through the bottle after visiting The Azhar was one of the nicest experiences in my life. Like I said, surreal.
Evening brought on more sober feelings. Where had everything gone? Hundreds of years ago they could build monuments that pointed to Allah that still evoked awe and wonder. Why was it that now the masjids were empty? Where are those scholars that made Al-Azhar the center of learning? Where our Imam Shafi'is, who is buried in this city? I sat thinking as I watched the fashionably dressed Egyptian youths chatting with "modest" girls and laughing and smoking. But somehow I knew that the Being who made Al-Azhar possible was still there, it was just a matter of us finding him. As I watched the golden setting sun, my heart lifted.
الله اني اسالك حبك و حب من يحبك و حب عمل يقربنا ألى حبك يا دل جلال و الأكرام
Ma'asalam,
~Ameer
p.s. Besides, who could be sad with the thought of soccer next week, insha'allah?
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