Chapter 46 | Dear God | Feelings and stuff

14/11/2005

Dear God

I'm sitting in our lone bathroom with tears flowing from profusely from my eyes. I'm attempting to sum up my innermost feelings and fill a few blank pages with pieces of my shattered heart.

To be blunt: I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I feel like my existence is an oxymoron to my being. Papa certainly feels that way. Not only am I not an ideal daughter in his eyes but that I influence my siblings to do wrong and ill treat him. In other words there is nothing that I've done for him despite him having done ‘so much’ for me.

Then, if that isn't enough I have to deal with society and their ridiculous expectations of beauty. That I'm not fair makes me the least possible candidate for marriage. Apparently a man’s only concern is the colour of a woman’s skin and nothing else. As much as I try to break through these dogmatic principles I find myself crumbling every once in a while.

I can keep showing a brave face, but for how long? I can keep pretending that everything is as it should be, but till when?

If anybody ever reads this they might probably consider me ungrateful, perhaps they’d even label me dramatic, but right now, I'm not looking at life from an angle of someone who has become accustomed to their ordeals, but from that of a teenager.

In the face of it all I can’t help but wonder if dreams ever do become a reality, if pain can ever be erased?

(Writing is really therapeutic, my tears have momentarily stopped).

I don’t understand this obsession with external beauty. What about personality? Is good character no longer an essential?

I accept that there are many bounties of which, in writing this, I have overlooked. But just for this once, I want to convey my grievances, to allow my anguish to take reign and my conscience to clear itself of all defiance.

I've been grappling with issues of insecurity for far too long and I think it’s time to look beyond them, to establish a positive attitude and to remind myself that despite what the world may say, I'm worth it. After all, YOU ordained my birth. There must have been a good enough reasoning for that.

I better get going. I've been sitting in the bathroom for far too long.

Oh, It’s raining! I can hear the sound of raindrops against gravel. And now I'm smiling. It’s truly remarkable how something like rain can lift my spirits.

Thank you for listening

Ta

Chapter 45 | Dear God | Paedophile alert

18/06/2005

Dear God

Happy Birthday to ME!

I can’t believe it. I’m officially seventeen. Wow. Ok no, it’s not wow, because I feel like crying. As childish as it may sound I DON’T want to grow up. Why can’t we decide on an age and then remain that age forever?

I was just telling Mama how being a certain age means you get to check out all the high school guys and now it’s like woah, paedophile alert. Ok, I'm not yet, but still.

We wrote Sharmaail today, which wasn't all that bad.

I think my own weariness with the very idea of getting older turned what could have been a FABULOUS day into an ‘Ok’ one.

From a ONE year older version of me

Ta

21/07/2005

Dear God

Mama met in an accident today just near village bakery. Some idiot decided to ignore the fact that the robot was red and sped right into Mama. Luckily Mama is unharmed but I can’t say the same for the car.

So we’re car-less, well at least until Papa decides to send the car in for fixing. A heads up – we’ll be waiting until doomsday, probably.

I started gyming with Za. One of her mother’s friends is a personal trainer and she does training from home. I never thought exercising would be for me but I am thoroughly enjoying it. Papa doesn’t know though, he’d have a hernia, or something. Exercising is a man’s right, apparently. Don’t ask me where he pulled that Fatwa out from.

The only con being that I have to walk home to make it in time before Papa arrives.

Got my periods today so I’m eating like I’ve been pleading starvation all these years. That reminds me, I’ve been going to the dentists for the last two weeks for a root canal. The treatment in itself isn’t bad but I’m still suffering with terrible pain. I woke up the one night in tears. Papa was still awake so he gave me a painkiller, which helped only temporarily.

Zaheda from my class went into pardah. I really admire her for taking that step forward , though I don’t think I’d be following suit any time soon.

With love

Ta

Chapter 44 | Dear God | The domains of adulthood

10/02/005

Dear God

Gosh! Can you believe the last I wrote to YOU was LAST year!

I spent my entire holidays working. Dullah Mamajee and Aunty Mohsina had gone for Haj and so I had to help Nana run the shop. It wasn’t really much of a holiday.

Sameera Khala and Uncle Noushaad booked a resort for one of the weekends. Get all the cousins together and there’s bound to be loads of fun. We spent most of the day in the pool and the nights playing UNO in the lounge area. We made such a ruckus that the staff had to eventually ask us to return to our respective rooms.

Now the holidays (if I can call it that) are over and I’m back to the grind.

Chat soon

Ta

26/05/2005

Dear God

It has been THREE (long) months since I’ve last updated you on everything that is, my life. Final year of madressa means all the more work and less time for leisure. I don’t really know what got into me today but I decided to pen my thoughts, however absurd they may be.

I’m turning seventeen in about three weeks and I’m finding it tough to adjust to the very idea of it. One minute I’m an innocent, carefree child (yeah right) the next thing I know I’m an adolescent on her way to self-discovery, a curiosity that is uncontainable, and a required rebellious streak.

Actually that’s a lie, I’ve never been much of a rebel.

Then there’s the whole of issue of not having a boyfriend that bothers me. Ok, it’s not so much an issue, more a concern. It’s not like I have the freedom to have one anyways, and though I know of many other girls that have secret boyfriends (whom everybody knows about except for their parents) I’ve never really been one for doing things like that being my parents back. I’ve done things without Papa knowing yes, but a boyfriend required a whole lot of hide and seek that I felt was best left in my childhood days.

Yes, I idolized the notion of being loved, of having someone who doted over me, of weekend rendezvous that leave me feeling weak knee’ed. But I was also aware of the risks that came along with that and I wasn’t sure I was ready to bear the brunt of my actions if Papa ever had to be made aware of it.

Enough about that, can you believe I have just FIVE more months left before madressa ends. I really have no idea what I want to do thereafter.

My intention for becoming an Aalima was not solely to teach but in doing so, to make a difference. I want people to see the beauty of our religion and not just follow it blindly.

In other unrelated news, my cousin, Nabeela, is leaving for Cape town today for work, and she came to greet me prior to leaving. I gave her a pair of earrings as a gift and I was so glad she liked them.

Za’ came to visit today bringing her usual: Akhalwaya’s WonderWhy pizza and Coke for lunch. I was in food haven. She spent the afternoon experimenting her new make-up artistry talents on me. I ended up looking like a collage of colour, though I had fun in the process.

I read my 1^st SVU (Sweet Vally University) book today. I felt like I was finally entering the domains of adulthood in doing so. I still prefer SVH (Sweet Vally High) though. I’m currently reading a super duper Vampire book titled; Bloodlines _ Family can be fatal (I can vouch for that) and I’m enjoying the story line immensely.

Quote for the day:

‘If a woman is not speaking to you, she is trying to tell you something.’

Ta

Chapter 43 | Dear God | Morbid thoughts

06/10/2004

Dear God

Last week Tuesday (28/09/2004) Mama went to East London with Altaaf for a holiday by family. The house was eerily quiet and we mostly ordered take-away. I think even Papa realized that any attempt at cooking on my part was futile. I really missed Mama.

Za and I had a bit of a squabble recently. Nothing major but it still made me wonder about the sanctity of friendship. I’ve never had much luck on that front and I probably still have much to learn.

About a week ago, Choti Foi and family was down by Daddi for the weekend. It was really nice having them around. Gori Foi had all of us in stitches with her rather dramatic stories as per usual.

I need to go and sort out my cupboard.

Chat soon

Ta

07/11/2004

Dear God

Don’t even bother asking what happened to me, ‘cos I don’t know myself. I’ve just been so busy.

There’s only FIVE days left for the end of Ramadaan! Can you believe it? (Well of course YOU can). At least my Eid outfit if sorted. I’m wearing an almost caramel and green colour dress with ballet pumps. 

I’ve purchased a ridiculously high heeled sandal. It was gorgeous and I really couldn’t resist. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking it to it no matter how lame. When I think about it though it WAS really foolish of me, considering what a waste of money that was.

I’m dreading exams, which commence just after Eid. I have 10 para’s of Tafseer to learn and I don’t even have my file with. Someone loaned it and didn’t even have the decency to return it in time. I’m SO dead!

My entire body is aching and I don’t even know why. No really, I don’t.

I’ve been having rather morbid thoughts lately. That’s what happens when you start questioning the reason for your existence and whether there is any point in actually being alive. Nothing suicidal though. An eternity in hell fire is nothing compared to the misery of this world.

Ta

Chapter 42 | Dear God | A break in, Vigilantes and a dead body.

11/09/2004

Dear GOD

Boy did we have a scene on our road last night!

Let me start from the beginning.

Aunty Samiha (Lebanese neighbour remember?) and Uncle Shahid had gone out that evening. Uncle Shahid had forgotten something at home and returned to find their front gate open and one of their dogs lying drugged on the front porch.

He walked on further and saw six guys rummaging in his house. He immediately started shooting. Did I tell you he had a gun license? Well now you know.

He shot one guy in the back, who died not long after and one in the chest. The remaining four fled the scene. As soon as Papa heard the shots he ran after the thieves. I think Papa was more determined to save them from Uncle Shahid than he was at apprehending them.

The cops were there not long after and our street was cordoned off. That didn’t stop inquisitive neighbours and passer-by’s from crossing over the yellow tape and filling up the road. There were cops all over the place. The vigilante were there as well, scouting our back yards for any sign of evidence and on the possible chance of their being a thief taking cover there.

By the time everyone dispersed it was nearing midnight and even the sight of a dead body couldn’t keep me from falling asleep almost instantaneously.

Ta

Chapter 41 | Dear God | John Abraham's Abs

17/08/2004

Dear God. 

Ramadaan is almost here and that means: Jalsa practice, exams and a pile on of unnecessary stress. Well, I deem it unnecessary! I still haven’t handed in my Arabic assignment which bee tea dubs, was due TWO weeks ago. Procrastination at its best.

I have some secret admirer from Durban who insists he is in love with me, despite not knowing a single thing about me. It’s really ridiculous how guys think EVERY girl will fall for that kind of ploy. I’m just like: ‘Yeah well, I love ME too so there’s something we have in common.’

Up top.

It was Miya’s birthday recently. Clearly none of us are getting any younger.

Anyways, I gotta go. Mama is screaming her head off. Just kidding, Mama cant scream to save her life, 

YOU know that.

Quote for the day: ‘Those who know you but don’t know Allah, will come to know ALLAH because of you.’

Ta

29/08/2004

Dear God

I just found out that Eesa cried when he was dropped off at Daarul_Uloom when Mama and Papa went to drop him off. He’s only 12 and it probably is daunting for him. I should have gone with to see him off. Now I feel terrible. Imagine being away from home when you’re so young.

The builders are banging outside my window at the moment. There’s not much left to do though, expect for fitting in a sliding door and painting. I can’t wait to see the final result.

Finally got to watch the movie Lakeer. My first glimpse of John Abraham (and his abs). Long hair on a guy isn’t my kind of thing, but abs? Those definitely are. My Gori Foi was by Daddi that’s how I got to see the movie. Gori Foi’s a huge fan of Indian movies and Daddi is okay with letting her control the video player during her stay, as long as there are Van Damme style kung-fu.

My secret admirer is still on my case. Her recent line was: ‘I can’t live without you!’ and I’m just like: ‘In that case I hope you have your will prepared, you’ll be dying shortly.’

My friends don’t call me hard-core for nothing.

Ta

Chapter 40 | Dear God | The one with sadistic tendencies

29/07/2004

Dear God

Guess what?

Appa Sumayya has decided she’s NOT coming back to teach (and that to, without even giving us a heads-up)!!!!

That means our whole time table needs to be reassessed considering she took us for most of our subjects.

On a positive note her wedding went off quite well. I was a whole bundle of flour combined with eggs the night before, but it was thorough fun. I mean, how often do you get to crack an egg on your Appa?

I wore a black and silver dress to the wedding and (wait for it) heels. Don’t ask, I’m still wondering as to whether I was temporarily possessed by a rather feminine Jinn. The wedding set-up was elegantly simple. 

I was upset Za’ couldn’t make it. She was still grounded and even though her dad agreed to let her come, her mum wouldn’t hear of it. In my case it’s the absolute opposite in terms of permissiveness.

I got my hair straightened for the first time with an iron. No, not a hair iron an actual clothing iron. Now before you fall off your throne in laughter, let me allow you a moment to picture this scenario.

Me, with my body dangling from the edges of an unsteady ironing board, my cousin Tasneem and our Lebanese neighbour Samiha pressing the iron onto my hair with all their might as if maliciously wishing my curls away and me beckoning my head (and hair) forward with a pull that could toss an anchored ship to its destruction. It made for a rather embarrassing moment when Saadiya (a 4^th year student and my lift for the night) walked in on us.

I didn’t even attempt explaining myself. What was I to say: ‘Oh uh I like this sort of torture treatment where someone presses an iron to my hair and rips it out strand by strand.’ Chilled.

Love: The one with sadistic tendencies

Ta