C'est La Vie! Life!

Good Trap

2011-06-30T10:45:00.000+01:00

First they told us the flight was cancelled and that we had to write down our names and phone number so they'd call us for the tomorrow flight. By the time we all did, information came that there was a possibility of flying after all. We were requested to check in our luggage. Someone started spitting foul words at the ground crew. The plane had technical issues, would he rather we board on a faulty plane? Some people are sure in a hurry to get to lalaland.

Eight hours later, we're finally boarding. Am asked what my final destination is. Luanda. They check my passport once, twice then ask me to kindly sit and wait for someone to attend to me. Hey, what is 10 minutes after eight hours! I smile and sit.

"What's your final destination madam?"

I explain that am on a very long trip going to Dubai, Nairobi then back to Dubain and off to Luanda. Back to Dubai again and then Accra and then Abidjan.

The officer flips through my passport again and again and then says "but you have no visa for Rwanda." "Rwanda? Oh, not Rwanda, Luanda. The capital of Angola" and we laugh.

Dubai airport makes my head reel. Too many people.

Nairobi is such a beautiful city but with a vicious traffic. On a "No U Turn" sign someone had tagged in green "so what?". My colleagues and I started laughing. The police man directing traffic must have thought we were laughing at him.

My first time in Luanda. The personnel at room service did not speak english and I don't speak portugeuse. We laughed at each other on the phone. I gibberished that I wanted something light to eat. She finally got it. They sent me a coca cola light.

Luanda's downtown by night (the only free time I had) is quite beautiful. The food is lovely and not too different from what we eat back home. I wish I stayed longer than 2 nights but then I'd be broke. The country is ridiculously expensive. The customs officer at airport asked me if I had money to declare. I told her no. And she said in her best english "ok, good trap!". I am not easily spooked but I felt a sense of dread.

Am now off to Accra. There's a mom with the prettiest baby girl I've ever seen on my left. She knocked down her mother's tray, pulled her hair and drooled on her shoulder. Her t-shirt says "I love mummy". A baby with a sense of humour.

Grounded

2011-06-29T14:50:00.000+01:00

The last 3 years have been a blurr. Great job, not enough quality time with the Loved Ones, plenty of travelling and too many airports.

Don't get me wrong. I love to travel and discover new places and faces, try new tastes and spit some out. I tried crocodile meat. It stands somewhere between chicken and fish. I hated it. I loved sushi. Never thought I'd enjoy raw fish but guess what, penguins have great taste.

I've just spent 9 hours at Kotoka airport in Accra and will most probably miss my connecting flight to Nairobi. These things happen. Kids are wailing, parents are bribing. Two kids, brothers I think, are eyeing my smartphone. The elder one says "you have a blackberry". It's not a question. I smile and eye their snack. The little one puts his snack put into my face. It is some cheese sticks snacks. It smells good. Am very hungry and I say no thanks and smile. The kid looks sincerely relieved.

The adults are scowling and the business class adults are pouting and trying to make eye contact to communicate their anger, annoyance. I will not be contaminated. I hope the toxic smell of farts gradually filling the boarding gate doesn't stick on me though. The guy on my left reeks of the smell of stale tobacco. Worse, he just burped.

Post written at the Katoka International Airport on 19th of June 2011.

Dear Muhammad

2010-09-12T13:13:00.001Z

Dear Muhammad,

It's been what, 20 years since we last met? Sometimes, it feels like it was yesterday. And many times, I wished I could go back in time and tell you this. I don't think you'll ever read this but I had to write it anyway.

Muhammad you made us laugh so hard. Remember the day we had visitors for tea and my mum sent you to have a look and tell her how many people were there? You went and stood in the living room and started counting them out loud pointing. Silence followed then the bigest roar of laughter I'd ever heard in my child life.

Muhammad you helped me so much when I was struggling with my Quran lessons at school. You were my big brother.

Muhammad, you learned to make "ligaymaat" exactly the way my mum made them. Hot with the sugar melting on them with tea and milk. We'll have them every afternoon after school on the balcony. You are the best house help we ever had.

And how it all ended. How I ended it all. And am so very sorry.

We were used not to be given pocket money for school. Dad thought it wasn't a good idea. We had food, drinks and enough snacks to end a day and that should suffice he thought. He was right.

I saw the 2000 F CFA bill on the living room table and I took them. I didn't think they'd be missed. They stayed in my bag the whole morning. By the time I realised that I did not know what to make of them since the market was too far from school and that I could not buy food because I would not dare return home with what my mum had given me it was too late. I convinced myself that if I took them back home, my parents would call me thief. Or so I chose to believe. At break time, I bought food from the vendors with all the money and called my class mates to share along with the "home food".

School was in Say, some 54 km away from Niamey. My classmates were so poor some of them came to school wearing their underwear only and with a slate and chalk as school furniture. Our first weeks in school our "home food" was either stolen or grabbed from us. Those were the best days of my education life. I decided I was doing the right thing with the money.

Muhammad, when we got back home later and found that my dad was home from work and asking about the money I got scared. I did not say anything and went down to the playground. I saw you coming from the Fulanis where you had gone to get milk and I told you "there is money missing, 2000 FCFA and my dad is angry".

When we came back from the playground, you weren't there. My mum told us that you had left.

You started defending yourself even before you were questioned and told him that you had not taken the 2000 FCFA. He asked how you knew that it was the missing amount, he had never told you. Muhammad, did you realise then that it could have been me? You said nothing. You thanked them, my parents, for having been good with you, said sorry, left the milk in the kitchen and left.

Sometimes, I still cry. Everyday I wish I could say forgive me.

Fatma

Nuts

2010-07-20T01:42:00.000+01:00

Actually, the monkey wrote this.

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.:

House

2010-07-18T21:28:00.000+01:00

I wish I could have a house,
A house I could buy cash.

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.:

Language

2009-06-27T13:50:00.004+01:00

My second visit to Morocco, I forgot my camera in the plane on my seat. We went through customs and its while waiting for our lugguage that I realised it was missing. I went to the nearest officer, told him what had happened and was directed to the lost and found desk.

A young woman was sitting there and looked bored out of her mind. She asked me whether she could be of any assistance without bothering to look at me. I told her I'd forgotten my camera on the plane and handed her my boarding ticket, she looked up at me and asked me to come back in 15 minutes.

I left, got my stuff and decided to give her 5 more minutes and came back 20 minutes later. She was tending to a group of french speaking moroccans who had lost a "valise". I turned to her colleague - who seemed to have just joined her. I explained that I'd been there earlier and that his colleague asked me to come back later. He said fine and before he could ask her, she turned to him and told him in arabic to tell me that they didn't find it. He asked her still in arabic whether she had called to inquire and she annoyingly told him no, she needn't have bothered they wouldn't have found it anyway. The colleague just stared at her and dialled a number, told them that passenger so and so had lost a camera seat number so and so. Since he'd just called them, I guess they must have told him they were going to look or something like that. anyway, he put the phone down and said "madam, am going to give you our phone number, please call tomorrow morning. If the camera has been found, you will get it." His lady colleague said something that sounded like "whatever". I took my boarding ticket back and said to him in perfect arabic "thank you so very much Sir for taking the trouble to call and inquire. I will surely call tomorrow. Will you be at the desk? Yes? Good, I would prefer having to deal with you. Thank you very much. Have a good day."

He looked at his colleague who was looking at me her cheeks red and her mouth open. I was going to ask hr to cloe it otherwise she would trip on her jaw but decided not to push it.

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Morocco :.: Language :.:

Facebook

2009-02-19T11:44:00.005Z

I cannot believe it's been a year since I last blogged; 18th february 2008. Is it that I had nothing to say? Was the urge to write no longer there? Did I find another receptacle for the thoughts rattling in my head? No. I found facebook.

On facebook, I have been doing a lot of thigs:

1. Poking (its not at harsh as it sounds). You poke your friend. He gets notified that you'd just poked him. He pokes you back. You get notified that he'd just poked you back so you go and repoke him and he rerepokes you. To make a long story short, the poking can go on forever.

2. Chatting to friends, relatives or whoever you wanna talk to provided they are online. Well, some of them happen to be online but chose the invisible mode because they don't want to talk to you.

3. Adding friends and being added by friends whose friends want to add me and since I don't know them I don't add them. Only there is no "Don't Add" tab on facebook. It just says "Ignore". I've been ignoring a lot of people. Not very nice.

4. Commenting on my friends' pictures, notes, posts. That's neat.

5. Joining Groups. There are totally useless groups like RGLS which is actually Ridiculously Good Looking Sudanese - am a member - and serious groups like - Stop FGM (Female Genital Mutilation). You get to learn a lot.

But the most important thing is that Facebook did do me a big favour. It made me reconnect with family I haven't seen for 20 years. I've just been too busy keeping myself updated to blog.

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Facebook :.:

Interviewing a Diamond

2008-02-10T08:30:00.000Z

Ever heard about GIE? No, well you should! Neil here can tell you all abut it! Anyways, I decided to play and got to interview une charmante maman living in Canada -Saskatchewan. The first time I was at Sarah's, I couldn't help scrolling up and down through the pictures! Beautiful pictures of her babies! I managed to get off them and we settled in for the purpose of my visit.

So here goes the GIE:

Fitèna: "Our children give us the opportunity/chance to be the parents we wanted to have". Does this apply to you?

Sarah: I think this applies to everyone. I'm not sure everyone thinks aboutit in this way. I'm not sure I've ever thought about it this waybefore. I certainly learned a lot about parenting from my parents (I'man only child with four parents, so I had a variety of examples toobserve), and some of the ways in which I was parented I really reallywant my children to experience for themselves, and some, well, not somuch.
Whatever my parents did, right or wrong, I grew up and turned outokay, and now it doesn't matter so much anymore what I wanted as akid. I try to focus on what my kids need, as the individuals they areright now, rather than imposing on them needs based on some perceivedlack from my own childhood. All in all, I had a pretty good childhood,and I hope my children will look back fondly on theirs.

Fitèna: I love you answer. Would you consider me "gooey on top" if I tell you that I think, from what I've read from your posts, that you are a nice person Sarah?

Sarah: On the contrary, I would be delighted and extremely flattered, and when this is all over I might just turn right around and interview you back to find out more about you and your fascinating life

Fitèna: I'd love that. You've made me smile a lot and laugh with your posts about your Lit. Club, am tempted to ask how its fairing and if you were still the only member attending last the time but my question is "what does reading add to your everyday life?" and of course you can still tell me how that Lit. Club is fairing! :)

Sarah: Oh right! Book Club! I'd almost forgotten about that. I may try starting that up again, if people seem interested and if Michael finishes the sweet application he was building for it. But not for another couple of months, at least.
Now: "What does reading add to my everyday life?" I don't know. I can't imagine my life without reading in it. I get sort of twitchy and lost feeling if I don't have a novel on the go. I read while I eat my lunch, I read in my quiet moments alone while the kids nap, I read before bed.
Before I had kids, I never left home without a book in my bag. I'd read on the bus, at the bus stop, in line at the grocery store, anywhere I was sitting or standing relatively still. I don't read as much now as I did then, but I still read at least a little bit every day. It provides entertainment and escape. Like a mini-vacation you can hold in your hand and take for a few minutes any time you like.

Fitèna: "Like a mini-vacation you can hold in your hand and take for a few minutes any time you like". I couldn't have said it any better. A poet too Sarah?

Sarah: I used to think so. I haven't written a poem in many years, but I used to do it all the time, when I was filled to the brim with teenaged- and then twenty-something-angst. Now I try to make word pictures for the blog.

Fitèna: Malcolm Forbes said : "Education's purpose is to replace an empty mind with an open one"? What do you think about that? The reason am asking is because according to some statistics, 33% of the British think that Winston Churchill is a fiction character and a radio trottoir asked some americans to name a country starting with U and someone said "Uthiopia" :)

Sarah: That is hilarious. I love Stupid American Anecdotes, because I am Canadian. I'm stunned by the Churchill thing. I expect more of the British, somehow. I really like the Forbes quote, too. I think education that's worth the time and trouble does just that. Filling people's heads with trivia (much as I love trivia) is not the same as teaching them to think.

Fitèna: When I started blogging, I thought I've be doing it everyday for a long long time, and its not the case... How long do you think you'b de blogging?

Sarah: I don't think I ever really thought about how long I'd be doing this. When I started the Baby Blog during my first pregnancy, I didn't really see any further than the birth of my daughter. By the time she was born, I was addicted. Over the past four years and a bit, I've gone through phases of posting anywhere between three times a day and once or twice a month. A year ago, I felt tied down to writing only about my kids by the Baby Blog name, and I started this site instead, with the idea of having a broader palette about which to write. To a certain extent, I've used it to that purpose, but my kids are still the people with whom I spend the most time, and the subjects about which I think and write the most. That's as it should be, and I can write my dental floss reviews here, too. As to how long I intend to keep this up, I can't imagine not having the blog there for when I need to say something.

Fitèna: Thank you Sarah!

Sarah: These have been great questions. I've had a lot of fun. Thanks.

Fitèna: One more look at the pictures....

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.:The Great Interview Experiment :.:

Rumours

2008-01-29T12:33:00.000Z

It’s been a while i know, but never mind! Here's one to make you forgive me being away so long!

.................................

We took our seats and my friend said: “you have heard?” I said, from the look at her face, “no”. Nothing I’d “heard” that day could bring that expression to her face. She then went on to fill me in about what I hadn’t and should definitely have heard.

A shoe polisher was minding his own business when a bat fell at his feet. He jumped up startled and picked a shoe to hit the bat. That’s when he had the biggest surprise of his life hearing the bat telling him to “please don’t hit me”. He was then even more amazed to see the bat he’d been on the point of crushing transforming itself in a man. Late forties I am told. The was-bat-and-now-is-a-man went on to explain to the shoe polisher that “this is not where I intended to land.” And that “I was actually going to that building there to kill my daughter.” The shoe polisher was sceptical of course as course and the gathering crowd too shared his scepticism. What did they do I wanted to know. My friend told me they accompanied the creature to the building and inquired if so and so daughter of so worked there. A lady appeared and said yes I am so and this is my father. Then what I prompted. Then the cops took them all to the police station said my friend.
Since I wanted the details, my friend told me that she’d heard it during the day from some colleagues who were heading to work and that some of them had even taken pictures but blast after the transformation only!

I reached home and forgot about it till we sat to watch the CAN football.

I started telling my cousins about it when my sister interrupted me. That day she’d been at a judge’s to handle some business I’d asked her to take care of. So she goes “that bat guy right!? I heard about him too! The judge’s assistant was talking about it! Said they are even going to show it on TV.” Everybody wanted to know what we were talking about. We told them then everyone turned to our cousin controlling the remote control with pleading looks. “Please turn the news on, please.” He said no way but he couldn’t enjoy his football because all we talked about was the bat guy.

Next day. My friend greets me laughing and says “have you heard?” “No” “Well, what happened is this…”

…The bat guy was some poor man suffering from Alzheimer. He’d been reported missing for four days. He happened to be around his daughter’s office by sheer chance when he’d recovered his senses waking up from sleep behind a tree. It’s when he came out from behind the tree that he was seen by a woman who, startled, started screaming witch man…

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Côte d'Ivoire :.: Rumours

English v/s French

2007-10-24T09:46:00.001Z

French language is said to be very complicated, but what about the English language…

French:
1H58 à 2H02 = une heure cinquante-huit à deux heures deux."

English:

from two to two to two two"

French:

"Trois sorcières regardent trois montres Swatch. Quelle sorcière regarde quelle montre Swatch ?"

English:

"Three witches watch three Swatch watches. Which witch watch which Swatch watch??

End this one is for the specialists...

French:

"Trois sorcières suédoises et transsexuelles regardent les boutons de trois montres Swatch suisses. Quelle sorcière suédoise transsexuelle regarde quel bouton de quelle montre Swatch suisse?"

English (sit tight):
"Three Swedish switched witches watch three Swiss Swatch watch switches. Which Swedish switched witch watch which Swiss Swatch watch Switch?"*

*****************

Am flying to Mali on Friday!!!!!!!

Taxi and Woro Woro

2007-10-10T18:04:00.000Z

There are two categories of cabs in Cote d'Ivoire: Taxi and Woro Woro.
A Taxi is a Taxi and a Woro Woro is the Taxi's poor cousin. Woro Woro lit. means Six Six in malinké which is my ethnic group's dialect but since there are around 63 ethnic groups with their own dialects, its fair to assume that Woro Woro means something else too. Because, Six Six just doesn't make sense, right?
When you take a Taxi, you make an "arrangement" or deal with the Taxi driver. Because 1 Taxi of 2 have faulty meters; at your disadvantage. Taxi is more classy, you're alone and enjoy paying for the vacant seats. In a Woro Woro, there is no waste of seats. Like a bus, it slows by you shout your destination and how much you are willing to pay. If its ok, the driver will stop if not, you clear your throat and wait for another one.
I enjoy taking the Woro Woro. To go to work, I normally have to pay around 3500 FCFA daily but with the Woro Woro I pay 1350 FCFA daily. What I do is called "decomposer" or decompose which makes no sense if I don't explain it to you.
The Taxi would take me straight from point A to point D but with a Woro Woro, I move from point A to point B where I take another Woro Woro to point C and a last one to my destination point D! I this take 3 Woro Woro to work! It's tiring but really worth it!
My first day at work I took a Taxi for work and shot pictures all the way. At one point, I noticed a Taxi driver on our right signalling. Before I could ask my driver what he was saying, screamed at the other driver "where do you know her from you moron?" Surprised I asked him what the other driver had said (I thought maybe he'd lacked me respect) and my driver told me that the other driver wanted me to shoot him.
Yesterday, when I took the Woro Woro back home, the driver and the front seat occupant where engaged in some sort of debate. By the time I reached my terminus, I learned that God said in the Bible that the people living in Marcory are never going to be rich. I live in Marcory.

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Côte d'Ivoire :.:

The Look!!!!

2007-09-19T16:02:00.000Z

I'd been thinking about bringing some change to my template for a while and finally brought myself to work on it yesterday!
Your views on the new Look!

Le Retour # 2

2007-09-11T08:02:00.000Z

The flight from Mauritius to Dubai was tiring, the food was awful and the movies were so boring my swollen feet went to sleep. After 6 hours and a half, we landed in Dubai. We managed not to get lost in the huge airport and reached our connecting flight gate safely. An hour later we boarded for Abidjan via Accra.
It was the same company so we had the same awful food and bring movies to Accra. The passengers disembarked and we welcomed the new crew. They were nice and smiled a lot. We flew towards Abidjan. We could not wait to land. We all set our screens to the below view camera to take it all in. Since the class was almost empty we all took widow seats. After a while my siblings got bored of the view and switched to the boring movies. I (of course) was more patient. After a while, I felt my eyebrows rising. I could imagine my own puzzled expression. 15 minutes later I was sure of it. I signaled the steward and asked him why we were making circles flying around like that? The captain’s voice boomed informing the passengers that due to the bad weather, there will be some delay and that we will be landing soon. The steward gave me a that’s the answer to your question smile. I smiled back. My mum turned around looking for me, I waved and she turned her head away. I could sense that she was worried. My little brother had just translated what the captain said.
Half an hour later, the same green crops could be seen. The captain said that now we were going to land. The flight started its descent. We all had switched our screen to the below view camera and could barely make out anything through the rain. Only the lights told us that we were approaching the ground. Suddenly, just when we’d tensed and thought we were hitting the ground, the plane’s nose went up and we were taking off again. The captain informed us that due to bad visibility caused by the bad weather we couldn’t land. Everything was in control. I heard my mum calling for my sisters to come and take the seats near her. The guy in front of me wasn’t sure and asked his seat neighbor what the captain meant. The seat neighbor explained that it was a decision that the captain had to take in a split second in order not to risk our lives. On the seat across, a fat man had opened is shirt and was rubbing his chest. I thought I wasn’t scared but I realized I was when I heard myself giggling at the sight. My mum called for me. I went and took the seat behind her. There’s something wrong with the plane she said. I assured her that it was nothing of the sort and relayed the captain’s message again and added what I’d heard the seat neighbor saying. My mum said « look at the steward », I asked her what about him. She was worried because the blood had drained from the steward’s face. I looked at him and at his colleagues who had all buckled themselves and were conferring while smiling at us and I must say they got me worried too!
About 20 minutes later, the captain told us that we were now going to land. I thought about the fat man rubbing his chest and it saddened me that he was flying alone. M mum asked us to hold hands. We did. The plane landed smoothly. The passengers clapped. My first thought on Ivorian land was : I want to pee.

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Mauritius :.:

Le Retour # 1

2007-08-21T14:48:00.000Z

Dear Readers, it's been a while, I know! My last post is dated 17th May 2007... Have I been away that long!? I draft the posts in my head each night before I fall asleep and have no time during the day to post them here... Not that I don't have Internet access! Every 10 meters you have a cybercafé here! And this is no exaggeration!
But first things first so let me tell you about our trip back to Ivory Coast after 14 years in Mauritius!
It was awful. It was sad. It was very very sad. There were tears. Sobs. We hugged. We promised each other we'd keep in touch. We'd write. We'd call. It was so very sad. It lasted a whole month before the final leaving day. My mum's best friend almost fainted. Her son had to drag her away. We were that close. My friends came over. We started to panic as the gifts and souvenirs started pouring. Where would we fit them all? We could not afford to have any excess. But we managed. The goodbyes were long. The day we left the cars where parked from one end to the other end of Avenue des Glaieules. We wanted to leave the house clean but am afraid the landlord must have cursed us the next day! It rained the day we left and there was mud all over the place!
To the airport. We were accompanied by a full van, and 3 full cars. The others were late, and called to say they were outside and sad we were already inside and could not meet. We were sorry too but it was better that way. I had no more tears left and I had a lot on my mind; things to remember, notes to make, the family to handle. At 26, it was the first time we were going anywhere without my dad and if it hadn't been for the support of friends, I'd have been completely lost!
An uncle and his wife prepared sandwiches and juices we where supposed to eat, the airport guys wouldn't let us through with the drinks but said that the sandwiches were ok!
We passed through and went to sit surrounded by tourists and other travellers. We munched our sandwiches. Our last taste of Mauritius said my brother. Yes, till next time.

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Mauritius :.:

Departure

2007-05-17T08:18:00.000Z

Driiiiiiiiiiiiig....
Driiiiiiiiiiiiig....
Driiiiiiiiiiiiig....
Driiiiiiiiiiiiig....
You have reached C'est la Vie. Fitena is currently unavailable. She prays you not to think that she's mad at you because she hasn't been visiting. Actually her family and her are preparing their going back home to Côte d'Ivoire after 14 years in Mauritius. That's the reason why she has been missing to visit your great blogs and entertaining posts. She tsays ce n'est qu'un aurevoir. To leave a message, you are requested to wait for the tone and press * She promises to get back to you as soon as it is possible for her to.
Thank you!
Beeeeeppp..
*

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Departure :.:

Climate-ology

2007-04-17T07:09:00.000Z

He: Hello!!!

She: Hi!!!

He: It's been a while! How are you?

She: Am fine! Thank you! And you!?

He: OK!

(Silence)

She: Just look at this weather! Tssst Tssst!

He: Yeah! Sucks! The rain! tsssst tsssst!

She: How come it rains so much? This isn't the raining season!

He: It's the pollution!

She: Huh?

He: Yeah, you know, the "réchauffement de la planéte" and stuff!

She: Oh yeah!

He: But Quatre Bornes sure sucks! It's been raining non-stop!

She: Yeah, the track back there is all muddy!

He: (looks down at her sandals) You aught to wear better shoes!

She: Yeah I guess...

(Silence)

He: You live around here don't you?

She: Yeah, around Sodnac.

He: My mum's family live in Curepipe.

She: hummm

He: Yeah, my aunt called to say that its raining real bad there too. The humidity is unbearable!

She: Yeah, my coucin is married there. She said the same thing.

(Silence)

He: You ever been to UK?

She: No.

He: The weather is much as bad there too...

At this point, I couldn't help it. I had to laugh. Why do people feel the need to talk when they have nothing to say!?

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: People :.: Talking :.: Humour

A Star!

2007-03-23T06:36:00.000Z

Isn't she the cutest thing?

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Kids :.:

Sick

2007-03-22T07:35:00.000Z

Aulelia's comment made me smile. I've been drafting so many posts in my head but had no receptacle for them. In 3 weeks I went to work 4 or 5 days only. The rest of the time I spent it scratching. What? Oh not Dj'ing! I'll explain.
The heat here is intense. That's because there's much humidity in the atmosphere. It never was a problem apart the discomfort but it seems like I've developed some allergy to humidity now. This is bad, real bad. I can get medication and all but the humidity is still going to be here. Does it mean that I'll just have to bear it and wait till we leave to be well! I hope not! Last week the second doctor I went to see asked me questions on the stress line. Am relieved! He prescribed a battery of blood tests and I shall be getting th results today. Am relieved because if its stress at least that I can do something about!
So I'll spare you the unpretty details but it some sort of angry red rash which is "en relief". It itches like... It itches bad. Some of the medication he gave me is meant to put me to sleep. I clipped my nails. Yesterday my mum caught me rubbing my back against the wall. Yes, it's that bad!
Meanwhile, I have loads of work awaiting my attention and I'll pen off here.
My friend has a great sens of humour, I was supposed to meet someone he knew. When asked how he'd recognise me, my friend's reply was "look for a tall black women scratching herself.
My deepest apologies for making myself scarce on your blogs. I'll make it up!

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: sick :.:

Men do come from Mars and Women from Venus

2007-02-28T08:49:00.000Z

The new house is better is nice. Much more space.

*****

We had a cyclone. Gamede they called it. What sort of name is Gamede anyway?

*****

Yestarday I caught myself laughing and saying "lol! lol! lol" at the same time. Is it bad?

*****

In line with my last post and awaiting the brain to reset to blogging mode, here's a smiley for you. I found in on Joke's.com sometime last year or the year before and had posted on my ex-blog. Enjoy!

Tandem Story: Prof's E-mail Assignment

When differences of student's opinion can lead to galactic rewards...

Remember the book "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus"? Here's a prime example offered by an English professor from the University of Phoenix: his assignment and a short story turned in by two of his students:

(Professor) "Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. As homework tonight, one of you will write the first paragraph of a short story. You will e-mail your partner that paragraph and send another copy to me. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story and send it back, also sending another copy to me. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back-and-forth. Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. There is to be absolutely NO talking outside of the e-mails and anything you wish to say must be written in the e-mail. The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached."

(first paragraph by Rebecca) At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the question.

(second paragraph by Gary) Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to Geostation 17," he said into his transgalactic communicator. "Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he could sign off, a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.

(Rebecca) He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. "Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel," Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspapers to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. "Why must one lose one's innocence to become a woman?" she pondered wistfully.

(Gary) Little did she know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anu'udrian mothership launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted wimpy peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace Disarmament Treaty through Congress had left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty, the Anu'udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized poor, stupid Laurie and 85 million other Americans. The President slammed his fist on the conference table. "We can't allow this! I'm going to veto that treaty! Let's blow 'em out of the sky!"

(Rebecca) This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic semi-literate adolescent.

(Gary) Yeah? Well, you're a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. "Oh, shall I have chamomile tea? Oh no, I'm such an air-headed bimbo who reads too many Danielle Steele novels!"

(Rebecca) Jerk.

(Gary) Cry baby.

(Rebecca) YOU NEANDERTHAL!!!

(Gary) Go drink some tea.

(Professor) A+... I really liked this!

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Men :.: Women :.:

Men come from... and women....

2007-02-05T07:04:00.000Z

Fot those of you who've wondered about my absence; we're in the process of moving out. That and the load of work kept me away from blogging. Everything should be getting back to normal by the end of the month.

*********

Savouring a cup of coffee, I asked a new friend how she and her boyfriend met. It was all so very romantic.

We met at work, she told me. He came for an interview, I saw him and it was almost love at first sight. Since I'd been already working there for a while, I insisted and made sure he was in my group. We got to talk, exchanged phone numbers, called each other up incessantly and got to know each other. Like in all relationships, we've had our ups and downs but we're blissfully happy.

This is of course, a summarised version.

A couple of days later I asked the boyfriend the same question. Oh, she saw me and just fell in love he told me. And I didn't even know her and hadn't seen her.

His side of the story wasn't the least bit romantic and lasted less than 3 minutes. I laughed out loud because I was playing her side of the story in my mind the whole time.

She supplied some infomations he left out, he claimed he didn't remember things happening that way. I laughed even more. They tenderly looked at each other and held hands.

Am going to post this I told them, I think they tought I was joking.

Where did the book say Men and Women come from?

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Relationships :.:

Carnival of the Mundane

2007-01-19T07:15:00.000Z

Does being happy means feeling good? Can one be Happy and not feel good? Would my not laughing at your jokes make me an unhappy person? Or does my laughing all the time is just a front to hide this unhappiness I feel deep inside? I don't know. Do you?

What's happiness anyway? The dictionary does not help because what its definition of happiness does not fit mine, would it fit yours? I don't know. Let's find out.

What makes Claire happy is eating Tacos. Thats what I thought when I read the title of her post. When I read the post I realized it was finally seeing the bear. She even waved to it and said “Hi”. The story doesn't say if it waved back, that would have made me very happy!

Random Yak and I could become best friends if we lived near each other. We'd try to solve some weird traffic movements on each other's blog, and write a book on the subject and maybe even include some pictures to thank those who came in for the nude photos for inspiring us. (There are no nude photos of Yak of course)

Your friend is “your need answered... for you to come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.” Chicky Babe says it even more beautifully here. Just take the hand reaching out for you when its there. Grief needs to be divided and joys multiplied. Two is a very good number.

Aren't we all coming to the conclusion that we can write about Happiness? That every country song doesn't necessarily need to end up with a broken marriage, family, guitar? Why, wouldn't hearing “Marriage Catch” sang by Mad Kane make you merry!?

Why should we need to define it huh? We can't! Each one of us has its own definition of what it is. What it means to Aulelia might not necessarily be what it means to you and so what, let us raise a toast to her 100% pure happiness with pulp! She's happy, right?

*Sigh* Let's all now sit here with Lil Bit and chuuuuut, wait for it....What? The Butterfly of course...

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Carnival of the Mundane :.:

I am Happy... Lala...

2007-01-11T09:20:00.000Z

Dear All,

Hope you people had a great time celebrating Christmas and the New Year! I wish you joy, happiness, success and health.

New year was a double celebration since we had La Fête du Tabaski too - commonly called Baqr Eid in Mauritius (litterally Cow Festival).

This and the fatigue of the end of year load of work might explain why I slept sounding through the passage of 2006 to 2007. Even my neighbours mega pétards did not make me stir!

Still taken up with work which explains why I haven't been visiting you and wouldn't have posted this if The Donnage hadn't reminded me that am hosting the Carnival of the Mundane next week!!!!!!

Am counting on all of you people to make this a success! The simple rule is that you write a short story, a poem, a song or whatever and you call it Le Bonheur, Happiness. It might be a piece you've already written and needs to be retrieved for your archive.

I heard that its easier to write about ones miseries and hearbreaks than write about happiness so we'll see...

Email me your blog's name and the url of your entry here.

UPDATE:

Some of you have already sent their submissions; Muchas Gracias! :-)

I forgot to mention that I will be hosting on Friday the 19th of January, so... à vos claviers!

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Carnival of the Mundane :.:

Christmas Time

2006-12-22T05:59:00.000Z

Christmas time around here is...

No time to make up your bed before leaving for work....

In Port Louis, where I work, its too much...

Jeans....

By the kilos-who-cares-about-display-shoes...

Watches for all tastes....

They are cheap and work fine. They only stop ticking when you wear them...

Toy street sellers urging kids to cry and scream so mummy would buy them these beautiful toys...

Christmas time is also...

Chritmas decorations...

Nice window displays...

Weird window displays (considering the weather!)...

Scary window displays...

Last but not least, Christmas Time is ...

Too much work....

Don't Drink And Drive signs...

Dozing off in buses after a hard working day. But....

Oh and Chritmas here is also...

Very green!

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Christmas :.: Mauritius :.:

Strength

2006-12-06T06:04:00.000Z

You are Strength

Courage, strength, fortitude. Power not arrested in the act of judgement, but passing on to further action, sometimes obstinacy.

This is a card of courage and energy. It represents both the Lion's hot, roaring energy, and the Maiden's steadfast will. The innocent Maiden is unafraid, undaunted, and indomitable. In some cards she opens the lion's mouth, in others she shuts it. Either way, she proves that inner strength is more powerful than raw physical strength. That forces can be controlled and used to score a victory is very close to the message of the Chariot, which might be why, in some decks, it is Justice that is card 8 instead of Strength. With strength you can control not only the situation, but yourself. It is a card about anger and impulse management, about creative answers, leadership and maintaining one's personal honor. It can also stand for a steadfast friend.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Tarot :.: Strength

A Toaster Story

2006-12-01T06:42:00.000Z

He's but a form under the rumpled covers on a rumpled bed. He moves and I sees him waking up. His head emerges from under the covers and Ii note that his hair is too long. But nice too long. He blinks and rubs his eyes. The gesture looks so childlike but there's nothing childlike about him. He throws but the covers and he is naked. He stretches and yawns and walks lazily out of the room. Barefoot. He's heading to the kitchen. I follow him. He's making coffee. I watch him take the bread and look around for the knife. He sees it, picks it up and slices the bread. Its stale but it does not matter. He inserts the bread into the toaster. The next thing I know the toaster is hissing and throwing sparks and he falls on the cold cold floor with a thud. Electrocuted. I'd heard his roommate telling him the toaster was good to be thrown away. I look at him and think, Why take risks when you're naked .

[This is an ad. I watched it the same day I watched Ball story. Informative links: UNAIDS & AMfar]

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: AIDS :.:HIV

Thank Your First Commenter Day # 2

2006-11-22T07:23:00.000Z

The first time I heard of blogs and blogging was late May last year. I started blogging here on the 28th of June and on the 16th of August I read with wonder my first comment which said:

"Hey--cool blog! I came here via Jenelle, who recommended you to me. I love the post a while back about the quotes from courts; the one where the witness asked the lawyer if he actually passed the bar exam cracked me up! J*Star"

And what I thought reading the comment was something along the line of Neil's thoughts when he read Terry:

"$%#@&, there is someone out there actually reading this nonsense. Who is this? How did they find me? I better start using a spell-checker."

Of course I was happy that I'd finally been “found” but I couldn't help but wonder about this Jenelle. Was she someone I knew? Was she a friend I'd told about my blog (which I was positive I hadn't)? Was it my one of my sisters? But none of them blogged! I looked up J*Star's messenger and added him to my contact list. Whenever he'd appear online I'd send thank yous followed by do-I-know-who-is-Jenelle-questions.

Jenelle and I eventually met.

So, when I took up on Neil's idea last year, its Jenelle I chose to thank because she read and was nice enough to recommend me.

Its curiosity which prompted me to blog; its the pleasure I have reading you which makes me come back, everyday.

Thank you for the generous thoughts shared,
Hard thought and well written!
Although reading them may quick,
No time can dull intent.

Thank you Tanisha for being first commenter when I moved here.

Thank you all for being everyday commenters.

Happy Your 1st Commenter Thanksgiving Day.

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Thank You :.: Thanksgiving :.: Thank Your First Commenter Day :.:

Lonely # 3

2006-11-15T05:10:00.000Z

On his way back from work, He is thinking about the day and how it went. He realises that things are about to change in his life. For...

... the better or for the worse? Am interested to know how you see the story ending.

UPDATE #1

According to ................................. Here is how "He"'s story goes.
Egan: "Oui, je veux savoir la résultat."

I think Egan starts reading novels by going first to the last page. :-)

fringes: "For better! For better!I have no idea what Egan said, so I'm hoping I'm answering the right question."

Egan said" I want to know what happened!"

ChickyBabe: "I'd like to think he'd realise his self worth and embrace his life."

The friend he could have spoken with could have told him that... I like it!

Winters: "He meets a woman who changes his life forever.But I don't know what she does... "

Fill us in as soon as you find out!

UPDATE #2

Aulelia: "for the worse....so that something pivotal can happen to make it a happy ending! "

That would be for the better then! Don't you agree?

Egan: "I'm so confused, but as you and Chicky know, this is nothing new. I will back up a few posts. Salut mon amie!"

*tapping foot, crossed arms, raised eyebrow = waiting impatiently* :-)

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Lonely :.: Loneliness :.:

Lonely # 2

2006-11-10T08:31:00.000Z

When He opened his eyes and looked around his dark room He realised he'd overslept. He wondered why the room was still so dark and realised that its been a while that he'd pulled the curtains. He made his way to the window and hesitated to pull the curtain away. When He finally did, He waited a moment before getting nearer to the window. He slowly opened it and looked out. The streets were swarming with people. He wondered whether some of them felt the way He did.

Making his way to the bathroom He thought about how nothing had happened at the window and how that might mean that today might be better than yesterday. He got ready to work entertaining himself with that thought instead of the late dread of facing every new day.

In the lift his old neighbour gave Him a toothless smile and said “good morning”! Mumbling a reply He wondered whether it was a statement or a question.

He'd made up his mind the night before to seek professional help or speak to someone about how He'd been feeling lately. He'd felt a little bit better afterwards.

He knew that no one else but him could clearly evaluate his emotional state. No one but him could know what He needed to feel better. And hearing himself talking about his late feelings, sentiments and fears would help. He remembered how his mum used to say that one should keep one's worries to themselves. Why? He'd asked. Because people have nothing better to do then than interrupt you and tell you about their worries. That made him smile. His own smile surprised him. The old lady smiled too. Probably thinking that the smile was meant for her.

Stepping out of the lift she waved and He waved back.

A little boy stepped in. Hi, He said. Hi said the little boy looking up and down quickly. His two front teeth were missing. He smiled again. The smile was meant for His reflection.

Stepping out of the lift, He waved at the little boy.
"Good morning" had been a statement after all.

"Inside myself is a place where I live alone and that's where you renew your springs that never dry up." Pearl Buck

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Lonely :.: Loneliness :.: :.: Bien-être :.:

Lonely #1

2006-11-08T05:40:00.000Z

He picked up the phone and dialled. It rang. He pulled at his hair. It hurt but he didn't care. Somehow, hurting himself made him better because he felt something then. He wondered if things would have to go to that extent and wished that he managed to make things right before they did.

The phone was still ringing. They've probably gone out he thought. He cursed himself for not calling earlier. No one would be home at on a Saturday night. The thought of watching TV or going out alone made him feel sick. He had to meet someone. Anyone. He needed to talk. Talk about what? He had no idea but there was something definitely the matter with him.

This morning, leaning over the window he saw himself falling down and looking up at himself his mouth open. A soundless scream. He shrank back from the window laughing nervously with the sound of his wildly beating heart filling his ears.

As much as he did not enjoy his current job he looked forward to leaving his apartment for it. He needed to meet people. Just like he'd taken to playing his music loud enough to annoy the neighbourhood. Like he'd taken to walk aimlessly around his apartment. Like he'd taken to reading till the morning.

He went back to his apartment every evening with his body as heavy as lead. He dragged his feet and took his time inserting the key to open the door. He pushed the door open and stood there watching himself go inside, shut the door and spend the evening with himself. He knew he felt that way because he feared being alone.

“The worst loneliness is not to be comfortable with yourself”. Mark Twain

What's the worst loneliness, according to you?

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Loneliness :.::.: Lonely

Infidelity

2006-10-30T07:55:00.000Z

Her mother couldn’t be wrong. Could she? Even is she were all the women in her family just couldn’t be I the wrong. Could they? Let alone the women in her family, but the women in her village and country! What she’s been taught a girl since childhood is what all the little girls of generations preceding hers were taught and what the coming generations would be taught too. Would she be in the wrong if she taught her daughter the same things? She was starting to think so and that was wrong.

Princess, you and your prince love each other. But life is not all about love. We change; our emotions and feelings do too. Circumstances and time are the culprits. There is nothing you and I can do about it. If you rebel then things wouldn’t turn out right for you, they never do for a Princess. If you chose to swallow your pride then…

This is what they're all told. But what had her mother and the women in her family be exactly telling her? She had absolutely no idea. All she could thing of was the time she and prince would finally be married. What a fool she’d been. She thought she’d be the happiest bride, not unhappy like her mother who was unhappy for reasons she wouldn’t share with her.

Now listening to her friend telling her about her prince’s infidelity filled her with humiliation. She’d been a good wife and an excellent mother to their child. Why? She couldn’t come up with a single explanation. Her friend looked at her reading the thoughts that she knew were running through her head. The questions, the justifications that she’d try to come up with to excuse him, the faults she’d try to find in herself to explain his unfaithfulness, but still the questions and again the questions…

Princess looked at her child, the girl smiled at her mother. Tears filled Princess’ eyes. Her friend squeezed her hand.

If you were Princess (Or Prince if it’d been the other way around), what would you do? Why?

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Infidelity :.:

Days (and nights) spoiling thoughts

2006-10-26T08:38:00.000Z

Eid was great. The cake was yummy. Mum made the tastiest food. It tasted even better since we haven't had that much to eat during Ramadan. After a whole day fast, you just don't feel like eating, believe me. But eating a lot on Eid day is a mistake. A great mistake. By 2 a. m. I was sleeping on my feet my brain completely shut. You're supposed to take it easy on the stomach on the first days. We always forget. But this is not what kept me awake yesterday night.

Its been a week since I've had a good night sleep. I push bed time away and distract myself till I can't take it anymore. I don't get into bed because thats where the thoughts come back, rush in and out and rob me off my sleep. So whats the use of going to bed.

Yesterday night I watched Gangs of New York when everybody else went to bed. It ended around 1.30 a.m. What to do. I picked up “L'épreuve final” by Linda Fairstein where I'd left it. Got bored by 2.45 a.m. I needed to wake up at 6.30 to get ready for work so I had to sleep a bit. I went to wash my face, drank a glass of water, switched off the light and got in bed.

Just one word. Its been haunting me aver since I wrote The Arrival. I might be be speaking and it stops me in mid-sentence. I might be singing under the shower and it makes me turn icy cold. I might be laughing and it suddenly takes away the sweetness of the moment. I start composing a post and my fingers refuse to type. They hover over the same letters on the keyboard.

I find it even more strange since death and eschatology are parts of my daily life. They've never kept me awake like the thought of “I won't be there to write The Exit”.

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Thoughts :.: Death :.:Life :.:

Divali

2006-10-23T06:16:00.000Z

Saturday marked the celebration of Divali. We went around the neighbourhood watching the lights lit by our neighbours of Hindu faith. They were beautiful. But with the passing years, it seems like people are lighting them less and less and they don't keep them long. I guess its because life is so dear and electricity costs. Nonetheless, I so wished I had a tripod!

Divali is the Festival of Light. It symbolises, for the Hindu, the victory of truth (light) over ignorance (darkness).

It is one of the most joyous festivals celebrated by the Mauritian hindus in the month of October or November.

Am told that its in the villages that the ights are mst spectacular, there, houses' balconies and yards are decorated with lit “diyas”, small clay lamps instead of the electric blinking lights preffered by the twon people.

The light is believed to guide the goodness of wealth and good fortune.

Tomorow, we are celebrating Eid ul Fitr. More on that later. I've got to go shopping now.

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Divali :.:

World Food (Every) Day

2006-10-16T08:29:00.000Z

World Food Day was proclaimed in 1979 by the Conference of the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO). It marks the date of the founding of FAO in 1945. The aim of the Day is to heighten public awareness of the world food problem and strengthen solidarity in the struggle against hunger, malnutrition and poverty. In 1980, the General Assembly endorsed observance of the Day in consideration of the fact that "food is a requisite for human survival and well-being and a fundamental human necessity" (resolution 35/70 of 5 December 1980).

Whenever I sat for Economics tests at school, I used to love throwing in terms like “opportunity cost”, “wrong allocation of resources”; they gave me a sense of importance derived from my (supposed) knowledge of those terms and being able to come up with theories and examples to explain them.

I thought the poor of the world were stupid and lazy people who were poor by their own choice. I thought all they had to do was have less children, meaning less mouths to feed, meaning a little bit more of everything for everyone. I thought it just could not be otherwise since I was having food to throw. I thought I was pretty smart. I was plain ignorant and stupid.

Today, 80% of the natural resources of the planet are controlled and consumed by 20% of the inhabitants of the planet. If this is not disequilibrium, what is?

This disequilibrium, leading to famine and malnutrition, results, says Roger Garaudy (Grandeur et décadences de l'Islam), in the death of 40 million people including 15 million children according to the UNICEF. And its not getting any better.

“In a world overflowing with riches, it is a outrageous scandal that more than
826 million people suffer hunger and malnutrition and that every year over 36
million die of starvation and related causes. We must take urgent action
now.”(Jean Ziegler, April 2001, UN Special Rapporteur on the Right to Food)

Its not a war of figures, with who has the correct figure or who hasn't or a matter of calculating the number of children dying every second. Its a matter of deaths from famine and malnutrition.

The theme for World Food Day and the TeleFood campaign for 2006 is "Investing in agriculture for food security" which highlights the need for increased resources to fight hunger. To whom will the seeds be given? Because, how can undernourished and hungry people be expected to be able to cultivate anything? They'll eat the seeds.

Links: Facts, Right to Food

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: World Food Day :.:Famine :.:Malnutrition :.:Natural Resources :.:

Dear Mum,

2006-10-11T09:22:00.000Z

I love you, you know that. You've always taken care of us, massaged my scalp with olive oil, made me laugh and cry too sometimes because you made me laugh so hard. Most importantly, you've always been there for us. Held my hand when I needed it the most. Lent me an ear when I needed to shout or listened to my angry silence. I can't thank you enough because the words that may express it all do not exist but you know and that's what matters the most.
Mum, yesterday I watched a movie at work. I had nothing better to do so I inserted this CD I'd been carrying around, removed my shoes, put my feet up and relaxed to enjoy it. I didn't. I could not comprehend it myself, after all, the reason I was watching that movie by myself instead of taking home or all to see was mainly because I wanted to watch it in silence and without speaking. Why then wasn't I enjoying it? Simply because you were not there.
I thought I hated watching TV at home. I thought I resented your constant questions. I felt guilty for ignoring them at times. So it served me right not to enjoy yesterday's movie one bit!

Sincerely,
Your ~~Lovely~~ Loving daughter

The letter explained.
Mum does not understand does not understand or speak French, English or Hindi. Watching TV is a problem since its in the languages mentioned. As far as I can remember I've always been an interpreter. To the point that, when we I was a child and fought with anyone they'd mimic me by saying “my mum says” over and over again. That's because that's how all my sentences started when Mum was around. I guess that being the eldest, the task was naturally imparted to me and the siblings who came after me took it for granted that it was my responsibility for life.
I remember I once decided I was not going to play the game anymore and the same day we watched an English futurist movie. It was about some people living in a a desert some thousand years from today and thy had to fight for water. Anyway, all the characters' eyes changed in color depending on their mood. Mum kept asking what was going on and the others assuming it was my role to answer did not acknowledge her questions. As for me, I'd decided enough was enough.
The movie wasn't really great and at the end, the hero found water. My mum had a puzzled expression on her face when I looked at her. “What happened to their eyes?” she asked me. And I felt so very guilty.
But its hard at times. I believe in the fact that everything in life has a purpose. Now, I realize why, as a child to adolescence, I loved reading dictionaries so much. I was unconsciously bettering myself for this role of mine. Its a real challenge I tell you. Hindi movies are the easiest since they don't require a lot of concentration and even if I miss 4 minutes translating the dialog, I'd be able to catch up with the story. American non-dubbed movies and French movies are another story. The good movies where every sentence of the dialog matters I mean. Here is how it goes.
I have to have an idea what it is about to give Mum an introduction first and explain on the CD cove who is who. Because – I curse the Hindi movies for this – Mum associates characters with the music playing in the background. A romantic sounding music and any female character appearing would be the heroine. Hence the importance of the introduction.
Mum relaxes while I try to follow the dialog while translating at the same time. Because when am done translating one part mum immediately asks me to explain what ha just been said which I can't since I was busy explaining the sequence just before that one. I told you, its a real exercise.
So, why couldn't I enjoy my yesterday's movie you'll ask me. Well, I found myself translating it to myself.

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Television :.: Mother :.: Language Barriers :.:

A bird in the head

2006-10-03T08:05:00.000Z

Walking to the bus station I hear footsteps behind me. The street is completely deserted at this time of the day. I clutch my bag against me and hurry a bit. The footsteps behind me seem to quicken their pace too. I slow down, they do too. I can run if it comes to that I tell myself. Am good at running with high heeled shoes. My long skirt would be a problem but I can still raise it up. Planning what to do in case I do need to do something, I momentarily forget the footsteps.

I look right and left still no one. I don't want the footsteps behind me to sense my fear so I don't turn around. But am tall and can take wide steps without seeming to have quickened my pace. I adopt this strategy. I pass through “Le Jardin de La Compagnie”, reach “Paille en Queue” but still don't turn to look. But now its Ok, there are people around here. Its when I finally relax that I realise I'd been holding my breath. A group of girls watch me walking by and I smile. They smile back. But am worried because am starting to scare myself. Am afraid I'd become completely paranoid. Maybe I should forget the pain easing techniques.

I often have abdominal cramps and have mastered some breathing techniques which ease the pain. I'd decided to try and find a pain easing technique for my headaches a while back.

When it pains I can feel it in every part of my body; even my skin seems to hurt. I lay down and stare unseeingly in front of me; that's when am lucky to be home because at work I go around on auto pilot. I have and need to get inside me and concentrate on the pain. I dare it to hurt more and it does. Thud... thud.. thud.. it goes.

I imagine it's my heart I hear pounding in my head. I imagine its my blood I hear pumping in my head.

I tell myself it has to hurt if it stops my heart would too.

I can't cry. That's how bad it hurts.

I try to take my mind off it. The bird trick is my best pain easing technique.

My head is a cage. With a locked door. The key is lost and I can't let the bird out. In my mind's eye, I hear it wailing and flying about the cage only to bump against its sides. Its wings flutter wildly for minutes. It rests the tries again. Again and again. It cannot escape. I squeeze my eyes hard and pray for the cage's door to be open when I open my eyes but when I do, it's still locked. I no longer feel it hurting me, am hurting for the poor bird.

The footsteps I heard on my way back home were no footsteps. It was the pain thudding.

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Headache :.:

Trade in time

2006-09-18T10:10:00.000Z

[This has been borrowed from

joek-s.com.

It clearly illustrates my current how am doing!]

"If my body were a car, this is the time I would be thinking about trading it in for a newer model.

I have lumps and dents and scratches in my finish, and my paint job is getting a little dull - but that's not the worst of it.

My fenders are too wide to be considered stylish. They were once as sleek as a little MG - now they look more like my mom's old Buick.

My seat cushions have split open at the seams. My seats are sagging.

Seat belts? I gave up all belts when Ben & Jerry's opened a shop in my neighbourhood.

Air bags? Forget it. The only bags I have these days are under my eyes. Not counting the saddlebags, of course.

I have soooooo many miles on my odometer. Sure, I've been many places and seen many things, but when is the last time an appraiser factored life experiences against depreciation?

My headlights are out of focus and it's especially hard to see things up close.

My reaction is not as graceful as it once was.

I slip and slide and skid and bump into things even in the best of weather.

My whitewalls are stained with varicose veins.

It takes me hours to reach my maximum speed.

I'm burning fuel at an inefficient rate.

But here's the worst of it: almost every time I sneeze, cough or sputter, I leak fluids.

I'm so ready for a trade in!

Anyone know where I can get a good deal?"

All things considered, am not really doing as bad as that!

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Stress :.: Humour :.:

Blog Appreciation Day

2006-09-06T09:32:00.000Z

*C'est la Vie! Life!*

Evening Edition

After a two week rest ordered by doctor due to what
the French call “suremenage”, Director Fitena assured the press that
“Blog Appreciation Day” is starting today.
Handouts where distributed
to the all with the cast and full details.

“Blog Appreciation Day” is adapted from Neil Kramer's post which bears the same title. Mr. Kramer is a popular and very appreciated blogger. He is reported to be very funny. He refused to grant us an interview. He is quite shy, we are told.

Director Fitena explained that after receiving this very romantic note (see below) from Neil Kramer and reading the linked to post she just could not resist and receiving another touching note from friend Chickyabe convinced her that the movie was a good idea indeed!

Neil's note

Chicky's note

Chicky Babe is playing the much spoken of mystery woman. The movie actually ends with her mystère unrevealed which makes us believe that there will be a “Blog Appreciation Day II”.

Aadil plays the local guy (the movie is being mainly shot in Mauritius) who befriends the bubbly Adeline.

Aadil

Adeline

The others local as played by Javed and waz

The movie is about friendship and love, how they spread and how true feelings no geographical or whatever else limitations. It's a movie about hope for a better tomorrow where people shall live and let live. Where our today problematic issues won't be issues anymore.

We were quite impressed by the casting! Here is the rest of it:

The Girls:
Ed who the fans would be glad to know, finally quit her job and her horrid boss!

Kim

Roberta
Tracy M
Jaimie

Justine
Net
Sara

Aulelia

Nikki
Margaret

Amanda

Melanie
Claire

T anisha

The Guys:
Egan le Premier

Due to a technical problem, our photographer was unable to provide us with photos of all the comédiens but they may rest assured that they are much appreciated!

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Blog Appreciation Day :.:

Romance?

2006-08-17T09:48:00.000Z

After Broken and Robbed below, I thought it was time for something super light. This is a rechauffé from my old home but it's still good!

In the world of romance, one single rule applies to the men:

*Make the woman happy. Do something she likes, and you get points. Do something she dislikes and points are subtracted. You don't get any points for doing something she expects. Sorry, that's the way the game is played.*

Here is a guide to the point system:

SIMPLE DUTIES

You make the bed (+1)

You make the bed, but forget the decorative pillow (0)

You throw the bedspread over rumpled sheets (-1)
You go out to buy her what she wants (+5)

In the rain (+8)

But return with Beer (-5)

You check out a suspicious noise at night (0)

You check out a suspicious noise, and it is nothing (0)

You check out a suspicious noise and it is something (+5)

You pummel it with iron rod (+10)

It's her pet (-10)

SOCIAL ENGAGEMENTS

You stay by her side the entire party (0)

You stay by her side for a while, then leave to chat with a college buddy (-2)

Named Tina (-4)

Tina is a dancer (-6)

Tina has silicon implants (-80)

HER BIRTHDAY

You take her out to dinner (0)

You take her out to dinner and it's not a sports bar (+1)

Okay, it's a sports bar (-2)

And it's all-you-can-eat night (-3)

It's a sports bar, it's all-you-can-eat night, and your face is painted the colours of your favourite team (-10)

A NIGHT OUT

You take her to a movie (+2)

You take her to a movie she likes (+4)

You take her to a movie you hate (+6)

You take her to a movie you like (-2)

It's called 'DeathCop' (-3)

You lied and said it was a foreign film about orphans (-15)

ENJOY THE 'BIG' QUESTION

She asks, "Do I look fat?" (-5) [Yes, you LOSE points no matterWHAT]

You hesitate in responding (-10)

You reply, "Where?" (-35)

Any other response (-20)

COMMUNICATION

When she wants to talk about a problem, you listen, displaying what looks like a concerned expression (0)

You listen, for over 30 minutes (+50)

You listen for more than 30 minutes without looking at the TV (+500)

She realizes this is because you have fallen asleep (-10000)

Now what chance do you have???

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Women :.: Men :.: Relationships :.: Romance

Broken

2006-08-14T08:13:00.000Z

When I was eight I went to spend the night at my mum's friend. She was a neighbor, had no kids and her husband had gone abroad. As far as I could remember that was the first time I'd slept over at anyone's place. I must have before that but I don't recall any of the previous sleep overs. I still remember and will always will this one.

Aunt N was so happy to have me over. She asked my mum to let me come a bit early. I was there at five. She made me her famous chocolate chip cookies which I loved. She did not fear me spoiling my appetite like my mum. That was super cool. She made yellow rice (she actually added saffron, which I did not know then) and beef stew. It was yummy. She even let me stay late for TV which wasn't that late since TV ended at 10 sharp on week days.

I was a very curious kid - still is, curious I mean - and asked her questions non-stop. She obliged and seemed really happy to converse with me. I felt so grown up.

Later, after bath and wearing my pajamas, I jumped into her huge bed where she spread her wedding pictures which I'd seen before but quickly because the mums wanted to see them and it wouldn't have been polite to take one's time. Now, they were all mine. I asked questions about each and every picture. I was mesmerized by her pictures in her wedding dress. I'd never seen anyone in a black wedding dress before. I asked her about it and she went to her wardrobe asking me to shut my eyes till she told me otherwise. I did. When I opened them she was holding the dress against herself. The black glittering fabric looked weird against her white pale skin and her blondish hair. With brutal children frankness I remarked that she looked like she were in mourning. She smiled but she did not look pleased. She put it away and said Sleep time now. She switched off the light and got in bed.

She started telling me a story which bored me. I asked her how they met, she and her husband. Surely, that was more interesting that the rabbit tale she was telling me. She laughed and said that they did not meet. Then how did you get married I asked, puzzled. She explained that he saw her, came to ask for her hand. She saw him the day he came. He pleased her. They got married. This bored me too.

What do you want to do when you grow old? She asked.

Study.

And then?

Go to University I guess.

And then?

Become a doctor.

Why?

Because I think doctors look real classy and they are liked by people.

Hummm..

I felt so good to be able to talk to an adult so freely. She's so cool I thought.

And then? She interrupted my thoughts.

Get married and have babies.

Silence.

She's fallen asleep, I told myself.

The next day over lunch my mum asked, What did you tell N last night huh? Eight years old girls don't think about marrying and having babies. They concentrate on their homework, don't stay up late or TV and quit eating chocolate chip cookies all the time.

I felt as if someone was squeezing my insides. I felt a pain in a my heart. The food I was eating was suddenly tasteless.

Later, when I grew up, I realised that that was the day I got my first taste of broken trust.

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Children :.:Adults :.:Broken Trust :.: Trust :.:

That's the Question?

2006-08-09T06:13:00.000Z

People don't listen to themselves speaking. Nor do they listen to you. If they did, they'd have spent their whole lives laughing at themselves. If they've got a sens of humour that is!

It's amazing how nonsensical and unintelligent we are sometimes. I guess it's because no one takes the trouble to think twice before uttering anything. The examples are innumerable so I shall just mention a few here.

A month ago, E and me had a lunch date. After lunch I walked her to the post office. On the way we stopped at a street t-shirt seller's to have a look. While E and me were bargaining, K, a school friend happened to walk by. We hugged and kissed how do you do. I introduced E and K seriously asks me Is she your friend? Yes I solemnly replied.

I was actually thinking, No, I just saw this girl bargaining for a T-shirt, thought I'd help her because I thought she looked cool and asked her her name just in case someone I knew would walk by for me to introduce her.

Now, why did she even have to ask me that huh?

I went to a friend's wedding and met another friend whom I hadn't seen for a while there. We kiss and she says Friend invited you. No, she did not say it, she was asking. I didn't think she was serious so I just smiled.

Yes, because what would I have been doing there in my best attire with a gift for the bride?

We went to watch Invisible Man a couple of years ago. If you've seen it then you'd remember the lift scene where the heroine manages to push Invisible Man down in the fire where he stews. Anyway, everyone knows that Invisible Man is dead at this point. He's finished. Mort. Muerte or whatever. G sitting next to me whispers Is he dead. Am so into the movie I don't answer. I think he's just making a statement. Furious whispers and definitely a question Is he dead? Now Invisible Man is stewing and the heroine looks relieved. G grabs my arm to draw my attention Is he dead??? Am a very mean person so I let him simmer in what he's living as a suspense when the whole cinema knows that Invisible Man is gone to lala land. Is HE DEAD? Am feeling sorry for G who looks like he's going to cry. I wait a bit but now the heroine is out of the building and the rescues are there and the movie is coming to an end. I look at G and say Yes, he's dead G, he's dead. See, the movie has ended. He glares at me and says I know, what do you think I am, stupid?

I raised an eyebrow.

Tags:C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: People :.: :.: Talking :.::.: Listening :.: :.: Questions :.:

Robbed

2006-08-04T05:44:00.000Z

When you were a child, everything was possible. Nothing was impossible. You were fed, clothed and instructed. No worries about tomorrow. Dreams about tomorrow instead.

When you were a child you were a nurse now, later a cop, yesterday you wanted to be Jackie Chan, a soldier but right now you wanted to be President. When you grew older.

When you were a child your parents were there for you.

Remember when you fell from you bike? Mum was there to calm, comfort and take care of you. When Big Bully bullied you at school Dad taught you a trick or two.

When you were a child you played bang bang you're dead and everybody ressurected after a few seconds an had a big laugh.

When you were a child, you thought "action-less" and "blood-less" movies sucked.

Today your life is a movie only no one ressurects.

Today you don't dream anymore, you've been robbed of your childhood.

Today what you want to do when you grow up is be alive.

[This is for all the children of the world reffered to by some as "collateral damage"].

[Ceci est pour tous les enfants du monde appelés par certains "domages collattereaux"].

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: War :.: Children :.: Dreams :.: Collateral Domage :.:

Dodo

2006-07-28T06:23:00.000Z

Thinking about “Mauritianism”, it occurred to me that there is no such thing as “True Mauritianism”. Well, it’s the case where citizenship is concerned but not at all when you start digging deeper into the origins of the Mauritians.

You’re told that before the arrival of the first settlers, the island was inhabited. Does the absence of men make a place uninhabited? That’s what history tells you. What about the animals and birds living on the island then? Surely, they are to be considered Habitants of the Island.

The Mauritius Dodo, more commonly just Dodo, was a metre-high flightless bird of the island. It is currently extinct and it lived on fruit and nested on the ground. The origin of its extinction is controversed since many think that it was brought about by the Dutch, who were the first settlers, while others think that it was caused by a natural disaster which might have occurred even before the arrval of men on the island. The point is, the Dodo is extinct.

“Dodo”, such a funny name you’d think. You wouldn’t be wrong! The etymology of “Dodo” is one of controversy – the bird seems to be controversy prone.

According to Encarta, "dodo" comes from Portuguese doudo meaning "fool" or "crazy". David Quammen, author of "Song of the Dodo", points out "that 'dodo' was an onomatopoeic approximation of the bird's own call, a two-note pigeony sound like 'doo-doo'."

“Fool” or “Crazy”, the Dodo is also portrayed as a clumsy, not very intelligent bird (which is an understatement I am told!). From artists' renditions we know that the Dodo had blue-grey plumage, a 23-centimetre (9-inch) blackish hooked bill with a reddish point, very small – useless - wings, stout yellow legs, and a tuft of curly feathers high on its rear end. Dodos were very large birds – Fat - , weighing about 23 kg (50 pounds).

Of course, this is not the Dodo, this is a very dangerous dog. Please see the do below:

The last known Dodo was killed less than a centuary after the species' discovery. A Dodo egg is on display at the East London museum in South Africa. From genetical researches, it now appears that the Dodo was a close relative of pigeon species that are to be found in Africa and especially South Asia.

No one took particular notice of the extinct bird until it was featured in Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland (1865). With the popularity of the book, the Dodo became a household word: "as dead as a Dodo" is a common expression – poor Dodo.

Since 2002, following “Ice Age”, directed by Chris Wedge and co-directed by Carlos Saldanha there’s been a renewal of the interest in the Dodo.

The animated movie featured Dodos at their best. Their Tae Kwon “attacks” made them memorable and movie forums have been full of questions about their origin and whether they truly existed.

Here are a couple of memorable quotes of the movie:

*Dodo: This is our private stockpile for the Ice Age. Sub arctic temperatures will force us underground for a billion, billion years.

Manfred: So you got three melons?

*Dodo: If you weren't smart enough to plan ahead, then doom on you. Other Dodos: [chanting] Doom on you. Doom on you. Doom on you. Doom on... Manfred: Get away from me.

*Dodo: Tae Kwon Dodos, attack

*Dodo #1: Prepare for the Ice Age.

Dodo #2: Protect the dodo way of life.

Dodo #3: Survival separates the dodos from the beasts.

*Dodo #1: [lecturing about a crater] Now don't fall in. If you do, you will definitely...

Dodo #2: [runs in] Intruders. Intruders... oops. [trips and falls into crater]

Dodo #2: ...Burn and die.

At one point, in the French version, they sing "I believe I can Fly"!

It’s terrible though, the fate of the Dodo when you think of it. It does not occur to many but when you medidate over this you realise that the Only True Mauritian is the Dodo and it’s extinct!

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Dodo :.: :.: Mauritius:.: Ice Age

Thought of the Day

2006-07-24T10:34:00.000Z

"Level with your child by being honest. Nobody spots a phony quicker than a child."

Mary MacCracken

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.:

All in a School Day

2006-07-17T07:55:00.000Z

I never liked the girl. I don’t dislike many people; I normally make good choices whenever friendship is concerned. Only for that one time but let’s not get into it.

So this girl was not my friend yet I disliked her. Why? I don’t like Snobs and she was a Snob par Excellence – still is. You’d think she’d change after what happened later but no, she is still Miss Am Better than You. That’s the look she gives me whenever our paths cross. She seems to hate me. But I guess she just resents me for witnessing what happened.

You are now dying to know what actually happened, right? Shall I tell you?

It was a school day. When the bus dropped me on my station after school I remembered that I had to wait for my friend C. to whom I’d lent my literature notes. But people being people and the island being so small, anyone seeing me standing there on the station was bound to bring it up “incidentally” in a conversation with my parents. How’s Your Daughter, I Saw Her That Day…. So I decided to cross the sugarcanes and wait on the other side of the road.

I cross the sugar canes and wait. I see this guy walking up and down the road. He’s clearly waiting for someone. He looks familiar but I'm not sure. There are two crossings through the sugar canes; the one I came through and another one up the road. He does not know which one his – I thought – rendezvous would be coming through so he checks both. He looks distressed now and is talking to himself. I realize why he looks familiar. I’d seen him hand in hand with Snob many times. I remember thinking what an apparently Nice Guy was doing with a Snob-School-Girl like her.

He looks my way and sees me staring. He attempts a smile and fails. He crosses the road and comes my way. I look around. Oh my God what if he is not a nice guy after all, goes though my mind.

He stops a step from me and says Can you do me a Favor please? What? I ask. Hold my malette for me please. I say I can’t, Sorry. He says, You don’t have to hold it. Listen, am going nowhere. It’s just that it’s heavy. I’ll just put it down here. I say, whatever but I wouldn’t be responsible if… Am going nowhere. Please. He cuts me off. I shrug. He says Thanks and lays the bag against the wall. He resumes his surveillance.

He’s at the up crossing when I see his Snob-School-Girl coming down the sugar cane crossing in front of me hand in hand with a School Boy. Wow! I think, She’s going to be in big trouble!

Nice-Guy must have seen me looking intently in front of me – did I do that on purpose? - so he runs down the road and sees what am seeing.

Standing next to me, he starts muttering Bitch. Am feeling sorry for him.

She’d let go of her new boyfriend’s hand and is pretending that she’s alone. But he’d already seen her.

Nice-Guy starts screaming insults her way and shows his fist. I almost giggle because it reminds me of a Hindi Movie I’d seen.

Now he’s serving me the whole story. They’d split because she’s told him that her parents found out about them and been spying on her ever since. He, being a gentleman, let go because he does not want to cause her trouble. Then someone called him and told him that she’d been seeing this new boyfriend while she was still with him and how now he was going to fix her right.

By the time the story is over Snob Girl has crossed the road with her new Boyfriend. She tries hard to show that she’s not scared. She starts stuttering and asks him what he wants. He asks her why she’d betrayed him, why she just didn’t tell him that they were over instead of serving him lies, did she not know that he loathes liars. She just says leave me alone, look please go away. She tells him her parents might see them. But he’s beyond caring. He’s screaming away.

I look up the Avenue. It’s her house’s. And I know both her parents work. I wonder if some neighbor would come to her rescue. Then I remember her vis à vis neighbor telling me this family – hers – is not nice. They don’t participate in the neighborhood activities or neighborhood watch. No, no one would come to her rescue.
I look at new boyfriend and am curious to see his reaction. But he’s having none. Reaction I mean. He’s standing there in the background. I give him a scornful look and apparently piqué au vif he tries to intervene. Cute Nice Guy gives him a look that makes him step back. He looks at me. He looks away.

Watching Snob-Girl and Nice-Guy is more fun. He is now holding her by the shoulders and she’s shaking her head and her eyes are wide.

Not fun anymore I think. I hope he’s not going to beat her. Just then she says something I miss and he slaps her. Hard. My hand almost flies to my cheek. Her mouth is open and her eyes are wider but no sound comes out. She’s shocked speechless. He looks at his had and seems not to believe what he’s just done. He lets go of her. She staggers back. New Boyfriend holds her. I think she’s going to shrug him off. But she doesn’t. Cute I Don’t Believe He’s That Nice Anymore Guy, takes a step back. Two. Turns his back on them. Picks up his bag. Turns his head to look at them. Smiles weakly at me and says Sorry. Then he’s gone.

I went home forgetting all about my literature notes.

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: School :.: Boyfriend :.: Girlfriend :.: Relationships :.: Slap :.: Ex

The Fiancé who is eating my friend

2006-07-13T08:55:00.000Z

Is she home? Can I go over and see her? Is she all right? I'll text her! No, not a good idea. The last time he replied. Yes, he replied on her behalf from her mobile phone. As it is I don't feel at ease around when he's there. He's cool though. He makes jokes and is quit talkative. He laughs a lot. He's nice really. I don't like him. But it does not matter. She does. She does so much that am starting not to miss seeing her. Because when I do she only talks of him. It's starting to get to me. Why? Because am starting to wonder if she and me ever had anything in common. But we must have.

We used to be together, studying together, eyeing guys together, and making up stories of what our future would be like together and vowing to remain always friends. Friends forever. We made silly friendship pacts. We wrote in each other's memo diaries. Calling each other "Sister". Crying at the prospect of an eventual separation.

Now, no more. We've grown up. We've changed. She has and I have to.

Yesterday despite the fiancé I'd have been visiting at her place, today I can't ring myself to go there. I sit and wonder how it would be like when they'll get married? Not very different from now I tell myself. They're as good as married now.

Am I jealous? I think about all my other friends with whom and whose husbands I have a super good relationship. No, am perfectly all right.

It's that fiancé, he's eating her.

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Friend :.: Fiancé :.: Relationships :.:

Blogging Again

2006-07-11T09:02:00.000Z

Thank God the PC is now repaired! I can now indulge in my favorite passe temps; blogging.

I bought a poster which I stuck on the wall in my office. Here is what it says:

As soon as the Rush is Over,

I’m going to Have a Nervous Breakdown.
I worked hard for it – I owe it to myself,

AND nobody is going to deprive me of it!

My boss looked at it, looked at my other notice which says:

Of Course I can handle it.

I’m a woman!

He then raised an eyebrow. I raised mine even higher.

Maybe I should bring them both down? Non?

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Notice :.:

5 Philosophical Questions

2006-06-30T08:54:00.000Z

This is not a meme. This is serious. I requested to be interviewed by Mr. Kimananda. He said, it will be à vos risques et périls. Shut up and shoot said I. He aimed...

Shot #1: You have been raised in many places, and been exposed to many different languages and cultures. If you had to pick one of these languages or cultures or places as more your own than the others, which would you choose and why?

F: When I was a Child, I used to be asked this question but differently. Which one do you prefer, they'd ask, the grown ups, your papa's country or your mama's country.
I was forever terrified lest they told mama on me if I choose papa's country or vice-versa.
They're spies the Suspicion-Prone-Child-Fitèna used to think.
Why do they do this to me the Victim-Child-Fitèna would silently wail.
It's none of these bad people's business thought The No-Nonsens-Child-Fitèna scowling.
It's a hard choice says Me, today. For many reasons. Mainly for the reasons above. Born to parents from two different countries, two completely different cultures and two different languages makes me bi-everything de naissance. Not taking them for granted I sincerely wouldn't be able to objectively chose between those two. This narrows it down.
My most beautiful memories are those of my childhood spent in Niger. The best years of my life I always say. My primary school, my childhood friends, my father's friend at whose place we spent the holidays and who had 18 kids from 4 wives. The battles we used to have. The beatings I took from the big ones and took out on their little brothers and sisters. The memory of my mama clipping off our sometimes friend but most times enemy Hudda's fingernails. Because Hudda's weapons were her long fingernails. My sister's cheeks still bear her scratches. The memory of Hudda then telling mama You clipped off my Nails but have a look at THIS showing her a strip. The horrified look on mama's face. The memory of my friend Moundé who came to spend the night over with her little nephew and how we got scared by our own shadows and almost jumped off our skins and how he hysterically laughed at ourselves afterward. The neighbours at whose place I never knew why everyone went to watch TV; even those who owned one. How nobody left while the neighbour and her husband were having a row right in front of all. How we quit watching the TV and watched them instead. And no one left. On Eid day we'd go from house to house wishing all a Happy Eid and they'd give us money and offer juice and beignets. They never ever see us again but they act as if they've known us for ever. Memories of Le Fou du ludo, a crazy man who got crazier whenever he'd see miniskirt dressed girls. He'd chase them with a club. Memories of the boy mama employed and how he used to sneer at us whenever she wasn't looking asking You think You're black skinned White People, Don't you? And how mama did not believe us when we told her and how he was sacked the day she heard him. That was sad because by that time we'd gotten used to having him around. Oh, more good memories. The time I lost my front teeth and papa said there's something wrong with her teeth, they don't take 8 months to grow. I still haven't lost my self-conscious hand covering mouth movement when I laugh and smile. And oh so much more that cannot be enumerated here. The best. Am not choosing them though. They're mine to treasure.
I'd chose Mauritius where am living right now. An island where Africa and Asia meet and give birth to a palette of cultures and languages. It's not a culture per say, its a way of living different cultures and speaking a language which is a cross between broken French and seasoned with some English. A smiling Chinese faced Melissa, the belly laughter of my African descendant friend Wendy, the funny French accent of my Franco-Mauritian next door neighbour Gabrielle, the Divali lights lit at Meenakshi's and the Briyani we share at aunty Mahani's place on Eid day. Here, is a miniature planet. If this island not become, for you, a school where you graduate with the full knowledge of what respecting others with their beliefs an cultures means, then there's something the matter with you.

Shot #2: You have the power to erase one food off the face of the Earth, and replace it with another food of your choosing. Which food would you get rid of, and what food would you use to replace it?

F: It's not a food its a way of cooking the food in question. I can't stand oil and fat in food. Excuse me, I meant visible oil and fat. Not visible OK. Visible, very bad. So am asking, requesting from a particular food joint in Port Louis to please please not ever serve me my pizza with the emballage dripping soaked in oil. And that other joint which I won't mention either. My Pain au poulet sauté, I like it better without the oil running down my hands while am eating. In short Kim, I'd say its Fat and Oil but since they're irreplaceable and food would be so bland without them. Let's keep them till we find a substitute.

Shot #3: You can meet anyone in the world, and ask that person one question. Who do you meet and what do you ask?

F: Nelson Mandela. People become your heroes for one reason or the other. He's mine for many interlinked reasons. The main of which is courage and hope. Whenever am down or find myself in a difficult situation I talk to myself. I tell myself every night ends and with it the darkness and enter the sunrise with it light. Just think of Mandela says Me to I. Imagine that. who would have thought that after so many years of imprisonment he'd get out? Not only does he get out but he also becomes President of no other country but South Africa. Black President. Of South Africa. Imprisoned because he wanted to achieve just that. Change.
Mr. President, you give me courage and hope to believe that tomorrow everything is going to be alright, but what gave you courage and hope to believe that, eventually, every thing's gonna e alright?
This is what I'd ask Mr. Nelson Mandela, when we meet. If we meet.

Shot #4: The person you meet in the previous question writes you a thank you note after your meeting. What is he or she thanking you for?

F:
Dear Fitèna,
Meeting you has been a great pleasure. I wish to thank you for the humbling conversation we had. Your questions made me think a lot. About life, what we call faith and destiny. You made me realise that nothing happens in this life au hasard. Everything has a meaning. For those who pay attention.
Thank you for the simplicity of your questions.
My regards to Mr. Kimananda who arranged the meeting.
God Bless,
N. M.

Shot #5: You can provide a special gift to each person on the planet. What gift will you give? It can be something material, or something intangible.

My father told us the last time he went to France how terribly bad he felt. For them.
In the Parisian cold morning many people are sleeping outside. Because they're homeless. because in times of trouble they've had nowhere and no one to turn to. They sleep anywhere they can squeeze in, under the stairs of a building with upstairs people warming up with a cup of tea or coffee. They sleep in the metro. You stumble upon them turning a corner because you're in a hurry to reach home sweet home because its so cold outside. Seeing them, my father said, raised the hair on his head rise. It made us laugh because he's bald my father. But it wasn't and is not funny.
Yesterday I went to the World Press Photo exhibition hosted at the Netherlands Consulate. It was beautiful. So sad. The image of this five or six year old child being prepared for burial in a cardboard coffin by her father stayed on my mind and brought out the water of my eyes. You feel terrible because there's so much misery and you are oh so powerless.
A blanket. A blanket to make them warm in the cold cold nights that make them which they were never born. When they're unclothed and are ashamed because they can't even hold onto dignity, a blanket. A clean blanket for them in times of war and famine to give their dear ones a decent burial in. a blanket.

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Interview :.:

Chocolate

2006-06-23T09:03:00.000Z

[This post has been submitted for the Carnival of the Mundane XIII
at The Hyperion Institute
by Hyperion;
if he'll have me...]

I love chocolate. Chocolate Shakes. Chocolate Bars. Chocolate Anythings. Chocolates.

When L came over to Mauritius for a week, a month ago, she treated me to a massage. My first and not to be the last. Professional Massage I mean.

Relaxing music. Dim light. The sound of hands against skin. Rubbing up and down. The smell of the scented oil. The burning hot rocks gently placed when your back archs into the small of your bee-hind.

The first session was sheer bliss.

I had no idea my second was going to be even more memorable.

How is it like , I asked the girl. She thought a bit then said, sensual!

Chocolate.

After scrubbing your skin off les peaux mortes, you're covered with Chocolate.

What it is added to it, no idea?

It's not edible she says, you don't want to taste anyway.

The smell of rich brown chocolate fills your nose and all your senses are heightened by this inexplicable feeling that your brown skin is soaking and sucking in this second "browner" skin of yours.

Her hands are feathery. They're soft.

This is good, you think. Very good.

Soon you stop thinking. You feel a smile playing on your lips.

You close yourself and let yourself go.

She wakes you up and tells you its over smilingly.

It's not, you go home feeling you're Chocolate.

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Massage :.::.: Chocolate :.:

Gonna Be a Bear

2006-06-20T09:09:00.000Z

Right?!

Tags: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.: Bear :.: Woman :.:

A, B, C

2006-06-14T06:27:00.000Z

Neil asked me, surprised, in which languages I read two novels a week. English was my reply.

I remember the first book I read in English. I didn't read it, really, was just pretending to. We were living in Niger and it was a book one of my father's étudiant forgot at home. I went through it, pretending I had an idea what it was about. How was I to know that it was in my destiny to come to a country where the official language is English and where I'd have to learn the language?

When we moved here, the teachers thought my case was hopeless. My maths teacher kept telling me to go to a French private school. That's when I fell out of love with math and been bad at it ever since.

The Librarian was a real nice guy. He looked at me with compassion, asked me what I knew in English. The Alphabets and the colours of the rainbow I said. He didn't blink. He didn't laugh. He said, wait, I have something for you.

He gave me an illustrated book. One word per page with a picture. 3 years old book. I was so ashamed. Now am grateful.

The purpose of this post is to thank. To thank all those who have, knowingly and unknowingly contributed to making it possible for me to post in English Today.

Charles Dickens. Oliver Twist. For all the humiliation I was subjected to in class while reading aloud to prove to the teacher that I could do it. I read everything in French. "Eyes" turned into "Et-yes" and "Please give me some more" sounded like "Ple-a-ce jeev meuh someh moreh". The snickers and laughter gave me courage.

Prince. Yes, the singer. "Could you be, the most beautiful girl in the world...". The first song in English I sang and realised I understood what I was singing.

Christopher Pike. The writer. It took me a month to read half of his writings. When I was done I sat and wondered. When did the transition occur? At one point did I turn from completely Englishically ignorant to the opposite? I had no idea and still don't.

Texas. The band. For inspiring my best essay. Read to the class by the teacher. She smiled at me and said to the class: Just listen to this sentence. I miss you, like the desert misses the rain. Isn't it just beautiful? I thought, Oh my God, she actually never heard them!

The Backstreet Boys. I thought they were beautiful and learned their lyrics with translations just to understand what they were saying. It turned out, not much.

Mrs J. My Indian English Teacher who, not once, treated me as an Englishically ignorant and encouraged me to write. I once asked her what does primordial mean? (It's the same word in French but I didn't know that either). She thought and said. Say you're in class now and there's a Cyclone Alert and you have to leave the class quick for a shelter, what would you take with you? I said my lunch box Miss. She sighed.

My Indian friends R. & R. I remember how I was telling them about this guy I'd seen and how puzzled they were looking and how I thought they were dense not to follow. It turned out, I said the guy was wearing yellow "sockets" and that he was "bald". I actually meant yellow "socks" and that he had a lot of nerve "bold".

Eventually, in the second phase of my English Evolution, my gratitude goes to Stephen king, Danielle Steel, Celine Dion, Michael Bolton, The Ragratz and the Boyz II Men.

I now listen to Shaggy. Can anyone tell me what he says?

Tags: English :.: Music :.: Books :.: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa

Tomatoes

2006-06-12T06:16:00.000Z

Travelling by bus, is something I immensely enjoy. Catching up on reading, thinking, day dreaming or just watching the scenery are so relaxing and take your mind off a day's work stress.

What I deplore though, in my Mauritian bus travels, is the lack of communication, smile and greeting.

The first time I got into buses and said hello I was answered with She's a foreigner remarks. Saying please and tank you to the conductor is regarded with suspicion by many. I remember one time when I offered peanuts to my seat neighbour. The lady changed seats as soon as she could.

To make a long story short, when you're traveling alone, you keep to yourself.

Last week I had to work late, so my sister preferred not to wait for me. In the bus I took out “Soul Mountain” and began to read. Suddenly, laughter erupted from somewhere behind. I turned to look as did those sitting in front of me. One to two persons were laughing loudly but soon others joined in too. It was so contagious that I started chuckling. My seat neighbour look at me questioningly. I shook my head I have no idea and he put on a look which clearly asked what was I laughing about then.

The still laughing back passengers started talking among themselves. This was a change. It had to be good.

We, the front passengers noticed they were looking down and laugh harder. I looked down and nothing.

Reaching the surroundings of Reduit where the road goes down, we got it.

Somebody's tomatoes had spilled down and were everywhere. My seat neighbour and I exchanged a look. I burst out laughing and he smiled.

When he reached his bus stop he turned and said Aurevoir. I smiled.

Tags: Mauritius :.: Bus Travelling :.: Tomatoes :.: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.:

Trapped

2006-06-09T08:48:00.000Z

I must get out of this. I can't. Thoughts are running through my mind.

I remember the time, when as a child we were playing hide and seek and I hid behind the mattress. My friend knew I was there and instead of seeking me out she called the others and they all came and threw themselves against the mattress.

I feel trapped. Like I did that day.

My mind tells me to call out. No sound comes out when I open my mouth.

Mum, Mum, Zip, Mum, Zip, Help, Mum, Zip, Zip go through my mind.

It's not very difficult says my mind, just pull it down.

But I can't. It's too tight I say.

But I know it's not. It's just that am petrified. Blackness surrounds me. It can't possibly be this dark. It's daytime. I blink in the dark and it’s still dark when my eyes open. Are they open? Am not sure of anything. Am going blind. Am going insane. I feel am soon going to be hysterical. Nothing to be done. Think. Think. thjdg. thjyw.

My mind goes blank.

I stand there. My arms and head taken in it. Am suffocating. Voices. I hear voices. What are you doing says someone. I can't recognise the voice. There's this ringing in my ears. Am I going to faint? I've never fainted before.

Oh, it’s tight says the voice. Wait, I'll help you. It is pulled up and I stand there my legs weak taking deep breaths. Are you allright says Mum. I smile weakly.

I stare at it without speaking. There's no such thing as dressphobia, is there?

Tags: Dress :.: Phobia :.: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.:

Why love is Blind

2006-06-05T08:31:00.000Z

[This is a translation of a fwd sent to me in French. I first posted it here!]

Crazy decided to invite all her friends for a cup of tea and cookies at her place.

All were present.

After tea and cookies Crazy suggested:

"Shall we play hide and seek?"
"Hide and seek: What's hide and seek?" asked Curious.
"Hide and seek is a game. I count to one hundred and you hide. When am done counting I look for you and the first one I find gets to count next and so on."

All accepted to play except Fearful and Lazy.

"1..... 2 .... 3 ...." started Crazy.

Hurry hid first. He hid anywhere.

Timid, timid as always, hid behind a bush. He didn't dare go far.

Happy run in the middle of the garden.

Sad started to cry because he could find no place appropriate enough to hide in.

Envious taged along Success and hid with him behind a rock.

Crazy was still counting while her friends hid.

Despair was desperate when she heard Crazy's count already reaching 99.

"100!" shouted Crazy, "Here I come!"

Curious was first to be found because she couldn't help herself and got out of her hiding place to see who would be first to be found out.

Looking around Crazy saw Doubt looking over a fence and wondering on which side she would be best hidden.

And so on and on, she found Happy, Sad, Timid .....

When they finally all got together, Curoius asked:

"Where's Love?"

Nobody had seen Love.

Crazy started looking for her. She looked everywhere. She looked for her her over a mountain, in the river, in the sky. But, she, Love found not.

Still looking, Crazy saw a rose-tree. She took a wood stick and started poking and parting the rose-tree's branches when she suddenly heard a cry.

It was love crying because a thorn had gotten into her eye.

Crazy didn't know what to do. She apologized, implored Love's forgiveness and even went as far as promising to follow her forever and ever.

Love acknowledged the apologies and said fine.

Today, Love is blind and Crazy follows her everywhere.

Tags: Translation :.: Love is Blind :.: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.:

Me, Reading and I

2006-05-31T09:16:00.000Z

I can clearly see the day I was told that I'd be going to school. I froze. Then I started jumping up and down. On the bed, on the table, on the chair. My mum was laughing, my sister was crying and my brother was sucking his thumb.

School didn't interest me. What I longed and thirsted for was to know what the square, round and pointed symbols covering the pages of books meant.

Is the love of reading hereditary? Maybe. We've always been surrounded by books. Mum says We'd be millionaires if we sell of your father's books. When she's mad at him she yells, Next time you travel, I'll sell your books. I thought it was funny and silly. I don't think so anymore.

On my pictures, of that period, am always carrying a book or pretending to read by pouting. I read anything I could lay my hands on. I remember one time for Eid, we were going to a friend of my father's with some friends and their big brothers and sisters. Walking, I saw a torn magazine which I bent down to pick. One of the big sisters look at me severely, shook her head and said One day you'll read your own shadow (death). I laughed. I was terrified. I had nightmares. I still think about it from time to time and wonder if my being short-sighted has nothing to do with it.

The first book I recall possessing was a comprehension book called "La Famille Boda". On the cover was an illustration showing a girl reading "La Famille Boda". I wished it were me.

"La Famille Boda" has an anecdote.

We were living in Niger at that time and my father was professor in a University about 54kms from Niamey, the capital. I always say, our time there was the greatest lesson I've ever been taught.

There were people from all over the world teaching and being taught in this University. The wives were all friends and the kids all played together. That's where we learned respect and love. Caring and helping.

Anyway, there was this new family from Côte d'Ivoire like us. The kids were enrolled with us at school and the mother came to visit and have an idea about the school etc from my mother. My mother does not speak French properly so I had to translate. Now, this lady wants to know if what comprehension book we use. "La Famille Boda" I told her smiling. She gaped at me, frowned and said Excuse me. "La Famille Boda" I repeated spelling the words, happy to show off. She said Thank You curtly, collected her kids and went home. My mother said What did you say to make her mad? I said Nothing mommy. I went to take my book and see whether I'd gotten it wrong. I'd gotten it right.

When my father came back home, my mum told him what happened. He smiled and said nothing.

Later, I came to know that in my ethnic dialect Malinké - which I did not speak at the time - Boda means Asshole.

Tags: Reading:.: Books :.: Niger:.: Relationships :.: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.:

The Arrival

2006-05-29T06:27:00.000Z

The whole village of Ar-Rayat in Sudan is there. They came by bus, car, donkeycart, bicycle, foot. In Ar-Rayat everybody is related. One way or the other. In times of happiness or sorrow, they're all there to share with you.

The doctors are complaining and asking the relatives to please step outside. No one is listening or paying any attention to them. The doctors sigh and attempt to work around them.

A lady is crying. Her mother is holding her hand and telling her Everything is going to be allright. You'll be fine. Don't be afraid. Stay Calm.

The crying lady cries harder and screams from time to time. The lady holding her hand is praying. Praying that her daughter would be fine. Wishing her son-in-law were there and not in a plane somewhere over The Red Sea. She clutches her daughter's hand and prays.

The Crying Ladies sisters come and peek in on her fromtime to time. She's doing fine they tell the relatives outside. They smile when they hear her crying. It won't take long now they say.

It's time says the nurse. The doctor comes and they take the crying lady in. She screams for her mother.

The doctor talks to her and tells her to stay calm and eveything will be ok. She tries to stay calm but its hard. She's terrified. The nurse holds her hand and talks to her and instructs her. Breath in. Yea. Good. That's it. Good. You're doing fine.

Come here. Says the doctor. I see you. Here. Here!!! Congratulations! You have a lovely baby girl! Your first!

This day, twenty five years ago, I was born.

Tags: Sudan :.: Child Birth :.: New Born :.: Birth+Day :.: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.:

Overheard

2006-05-26T07:51:00.000Z

Overheard one
In the van, this morning.

Lady #1: Hey, hey (lo Lady #2) did you do facial (face cleansing treatment)
Lady #2: Noooh
Lady #1: So how are your arms hairs blond? Huh?
Lady # 2: Oh, that's called bleaching!
Lady #1: Ah! They look real nice that way. Don't they?
Lady # 2: Yeah! And my arms are very hairy you know, so I bleach them.

Overheard Two
In the Bus, day before yesterday

School girl #1: Yeah! You wouldn't believe what he did!? He raped her!
School girl # 2: Noooh! He didn't?
SG #1: He did am telling you! His mother found it out but no one would believe her when she told.
SG #2: How terrible! But why?
SG #1: Because they're married silly!
SG# 2: OMG, and whats going to happen now?
SG#1: His mother is going to kill him soon.

[Am glad I know the indian serial they're talking about. Imagine some ignorant being sitting in my place. What would he/she think?]

Overheard Three
In the bus, last week

(Woman gets in and sits beside Man she apparently knows.)

W: Hi!
M: How are you? Long time no seen? What are you doing in Port Louis? I thought you didn't work here anymore?
W: Am off, I came here for some errands. I saw X. She was going to the pharmacy and...
M: Really? Is she sick? Its been a while since I haven't seen her!
W: Yeah, she was fine she said she had to get something for...
M: Look at me for a second...

(I sense movement)

W: huh what?
M: Don't you notice something?
W: huh... yes.. no...
M: I'VE LOST WEIGHT!
W: Oh yes. You have.

I plug in my earphones.

"The capacity of Human beings to bore one another seems to be vastly greater to that of any other animal" said H. L. Mencken.

A special thank you to all those of whom I read for being so unboring. No, really. I mean it.

Bon week end à Tous et Happy Carnival of the Mundane!

Tags: Overhearing :.: Boredom :.: Human Beings :.: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.:

Cooking, marriages and Mauritius....

2006-05-24T09:02:00.000Z

[Loaded this is from my old home.

Some modifications have been brought in

and many corrections.

This post is to be submitted at the coming

Carnival of the Mundane. Hosted here.]

All my adolescence I spent here. In Mauritius. This island is more home to me than any other place I've been. Not that I prefer it or anything of that sort but in the sens that its where I've stayed longer. I've come to sometimes wish we'd never leave. I hate good-byes. And till now I still haven't returned back to any of the places we've lived before. I thus don't know and ain't sure am going to see my present friends soon, if ever, if we leave. Not that am seeing them that much anyway.

My friends are all married. Most of them anyway. Those aren't yet are either committed or engaged.

Whenever I go visit a friend, the mother, aunt or grand mother would ak me: “are you single?” I answer “no am Fitèna."

Of course I don't say that, but I wish I could. Too bad am such a polite-good-mannered-girl (sigh).

I worry them. They ask me why? you're a girl, they remark, You must marry! I sigh again and and shrug. i quit sighing the day they started thinking I was desperate because no one proposed to me. Now I scowl and shrug.

Some grandmas call me a spinster. Am 24 years old. Hilarious really, if it wasn't so irritatingly sad.

I had this friend. B was her name. We did three classes together. Form 2 (back when I was englishically ignorant) up to form 4. In form 3 we get to have to choose our subjects. In form 4 some of us go to either science, literature or accounts sections. I was in no particular section.

I took English, French, Maths – which are compulsory – Arabic, Commerce, Economy, Accounts and Home Economics. What Home Economics had to do with all the other subjects, I don't know, I just loved eating, cooking and eating and wanted to know what I shouldn't be eating in order to lose weight put on from eating the food I loved cooking.

Anyway, B and I were in Home Economics together. We did mock exams every two weeks to help us cope with the pressure of the real exams and also to master time management to make good use of the 2 hours alloted to us to do our cooking, setting up, serving and washing up.

We were assigned questions like: Your mother is sick. She has a deficiency of calcium and suffers from High B. P. Prepare and serve her an appropriate breakfast.

I hated those questions. My favourites wre the ones where we're asked to prepare stuff for a birthday party or a summer buffet ouvert. Those were great. You cook almost whatever you want. Home Economics was super.

We had to start and end it all in two hours. Not a minute more. You lose marks if you take more time.

So, B. once had an easy question. She had to prepare a meal for 4 teenagers. All she had to do was to bear in mind the fact that they were in the process of growing up etc... and needed extra proteins etc. Her Time Plan (we have to submit it prior to the cooking) was fine. Mrs O, the teacher said GO and we started.

I baked a cake that day. A sponge cake. Finger licking good fruit and whipped cream sponge cake. That was the dessert. For the meal I prepared a Salade de Couscous, Grilled spicy chicken, Tomato Chutney, Creamed Lentils and a fruit cocktail. Mrs O teacher beamed at me when she came over to my already set table. And I'd already done all my washing up. Bravo, she said to me. I went to sit and watch my fellow class mates at work.

What was B doing? I learned it soon enough. Mrs O started yelling at poor B. Why? Because, B was still in Step 1 of Part 1 of first dish - not meal, dish! She was deep frying a drumstick. You won't believe this (even I couldn't), but this girl had been frying chicken the whole two hours and done nothing, nada, rien, zilch at all apart that. And some of it was burnt.

You know what? The year after, she did not come to school. She'd gotten married during the holidays. Unbelievable.

I wonder sometimes what her husband, if he's still alive and hasn't starved to death, looks like.

Tags: Cooking :.: Marriage :.: Mauritius :.: C'est la Vie! :.: Fitena :.:

Reminiscing

2006-05-22T06:17:00.000Z

I have been reminiscing again. I always do it in the wrong places and at the wrong time. In the bus, crossing the street, on the phone with a potential client. In short, am thought to be insane each time it happens because I can’t help but giggle.

Lately, it has been much about Arabic. My langue maternelle. Not the language as such by my school memories related to it.

I remember my first day at school in Mauritius. I made a show of speaking Arabic with the Arabic teacher. I didn’t understand creaol at the time but I knew they were whispering about me and ohhh ahhing about how well I was speaking the language. I was happy and proud of myself and made fast friends. Then they started asking me to help them with their assignments. I was mad at them for asking me because I never learnt how to say no and mad at myself because I wasn’t doing them any favor by saying yes.

I remember one particular event which took place when we were in Form IV (Secondary fourth year). The teacher asked us to write a descriptive essay on “The New House”. It was a home work. The week after, the teacher came with our corrected essays and asked B. to please read her essay aloud to the class. B. began to read:

“The New House.
“Last week, with my family, we moved into our new house. My new house is big. It has a big garden and a big fountain in the big garden. The portal is white and big and the house which is big is also painted white. There are big windows. Inside the house there are big rooms. Mine is bigger. My mum installed a big bed for me with a big closet for my clothes. Because I like to cook I went to see the kitchen. I was so happy because it was so big. The oven was really big. I thought about all the big cakes I’d bake in it. In the living room, the sofas were brown in color and quite comfortable, that’s because my parents had chosen the big ones. The dining room table was so tall and big it could easily accommodate twenty four persons. In the garden there were many flowers. Red and yellow flowers. The roses were almost of a fist size, so big….”

I need not say that at this point, no one was listening. I had my head under the desk trying to suppress laughter. Nothing to be done. Even the teacher’s lips were twitching. Those who weren’t getting it were staring at us and poor B. was standing there wondering whether we were laughing at her or with her?

I reread her essay so many times I can’t recall. Each time, I’d double up laughing. We were meant to come up with 150 words. Half of her words were “BIG”.

Of course, after laughing, I’d feel ashamed because I didn’t really have to work hard to write up essays and had absolutely no merit for speaking the language. But, still *grinning*.

Tags: Reminisces :.: School Days :.: Laughter :.: C'est la Vie :.: Fiténa :.:

The Key to Failure

2006-05-19T09:21:00.000Z

"I don't know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everybody."

Bill Cosby

Tags: Success :.: Failure :.: Bill Cosby :.: Fitèna :.:

Neighbors

2006-05-16T07:41:00.000Z

Now you understand why here it's All for oneself and God for all, asked my other neighbour. It was a rhetorical question. But let me first tell you about it from the start.

I have mean mean mean neighbours. They live downstairs. It's not their fault they're so mean. We, somehow, drove them to this méchanceté. How? We were too nice.

When we first came to Mauritius, we were miserable in our neighbourhood. We came from a place where no one is on just a "hello how are you" basis. There, people care about each other. It’s no pretence. They really do. They visit each other in times of sickness, happiness, sorrow... They don't spy on each other peeping behind a curtain. Here it was all the opposite. Not for long..

We, being the people we are, set about seducing the neighbourhood. At first, some were very reluctant to let us come to their places but soon we were almost at everybody's and everyone was at our place. And we lived happily till they moved in.
We went to welcome them. They thought it was very nice to have neighbours such as us. Soon they came over. I don't know why, but we never went over to their place which you might put on the account of female intuition.

Anyway, they had a daughter and another on the way. The baby born, the mum asked whether we could look after her while she was gone somewhere. Mum said yeah sure, avec plaisir. I said, what you're not sure you're going to end, better not start. Mum said why are you so hard?.

Days and months passed and the kids (the two of them now) were staying longer and longer. One day Mum said Am tired. The month of Ramadan is near and I wouldn’t be able to rest with the kids around. We told mum to just tell the lady. She didn't so I did. Lady told me he kids would be no trouble and Mum can sleep and they'll just sit as sage comme des images. I asked her whether she bought her nerve by the kilos. Of course I didn't. I told mum to take care of it. Mum was very frank with lady but lady and hubby took it very very very bad. How could we refuse? Who do we think we are anyway?.

Two days later cops ringing the bell. The downstairs neighbour had called them on us because we're doing too much noise. We spoke with them. They were real nice. They spoke to the neighbour saying what God knows and were gone.
.

Three days later, same scene, same cops. The sixth time they came for the same reason we asked them to come in for a cup of tea, we'd become friends. They accepted. One of them told us about his mother-in-law who lives with them upstairs and how the sounds made up just resounds down and that there's nothing to be done about it. They asked how many we were we said 7 and they said there's bound to be some noise; you can't tiptoe in your own house. We said of course. They thanked us and went to chat with the neighbour..

Hubby, waiting outside, seeing them taking so long must have thought they were giving us a hard hard time or maybe they were arresting us. We opened the window to see his face falling when he saw them turning the corner alone. Just the two of them. He looked up at us, scowled and demanded to know why the cops weren't doing anything. Cops calmly told him that what he complained about was pretty normal. They explained that had we been disturbing the neighbourhood at some specific hours with loud music and stuff they could take steps to remedy the situation.

Neighbour is mean but also pretty stupid. He found nothing sensible else to ask the cops apart: "You're not doing anything because am not giving you money (bribe)"..

The cops embarked him.

Tags: Neighbors :.: Neighborhood:.:

Talking to Toi-Même

2006-05-15T05:23:00.000Z

You blinked. Blinked again and rubbed eyes. Then You smiled and was met in return with a raised eyebrow. You looked around at ack at it. You watched its lips moving telling you No, you're not dreaming! Am not? No, you're not. I must be going insane then! No, you're not. I just thought it was about time the two of us had a little conversation.

I've been observing you. You've changed. You never used to give a care about me. Now, you spend too much time looking at me. You and I both know you're having a problem. We even read about it last week remember? You actually didn't want to but I found it out and made you. How I knew? It's the first section we'd page to when you buy the magazine. Only, this time, you didn't. So, I made us. And you didn't like it. But I did. What it said is that spending too much time looking at me is a sure sign of lack of self confidence in one's exterior image. That's didn't worry me much. What got me worried is that I noticed you keep on repeating things to yourself before saying them out loud. Don't deny it. You did it in the bus last week. You just went on “Port Louis” in your head as if you were afraid you'd forget your destination or say the wrong thing. You, you never acted this way before. You weren't afraid to make mistakes. We learn from mistakes You said. And we did. You used to laugh at the mistakes we made. Self derision is what I loved about us. But now, I don't like what you're turning us into.

You look away. You raise you hand to your mouth. You're going to bite your nails. Then realise there's nothing left to bite anymore. They're almost bleeding. You look at it and sad sad sad eyes look back at you. You tell it that you've met some people. New friends you've made. They're so sophisticated. They know so much. Have been to so many places. Seen so many things. Done so much. And You? You feel that you're going nowhere. You feel that tomorrow and the day after you'll be where you're standing today.

What total nonsense it shoots back at You. Having le cafard is good from time to time. To keep you emotionally balanced. Now do me a favour and get over it. I know you can. Remember all we've been through together and where we are today. And you have only You and Him to thank for. Don't you think that those friends you made might be thinking just the same thing about you? Wishing they had the life You have?

You thought about it. It was true. You remembered something, read somewhere. It said: “Use what talents you possess: the woods would be very silent if no birds sang there except those that sang best. (*)”

You looked at it and smiled. It returned the smile. Your reflection.

[*Henry Van Dyke]

Tags: Self Confidence :.: Emotions :.:Reflection :.:

Two in One

2006-05-12T06:53:00.000Z

[Reading This, I decided it was time to post what follows below.
It was an email forwarded to me.
Thank me for sharing it!]

1. The Quarter Life Crisis is...
When you stop going along with the crowd and start realizing that there are a lot of things about yourself that you didn't know and may not like.You start feeling insecure and wonder where you will be in a year or two, but then get scared because you barely know where you are now.

You start realizing that people are selfish and that, maybe, those friends that you thought you were so close to aren't exactly the greatest people you have ever met and the people you have lost touch with are some of the most important ones. What you do not realize is that they are realizing that too and are not really cold or catty or; mean or insincere, but that they are as confused as you.

You look at your job. It is not even close to what you thought you would be doing or maybe you are looking for one and realizing that you are going to have to start at the bottom and are scared.

You miss the comforts of college, of groups, of socializing with the same people on a constant basis. But you realize that maybe they weren't so great after all.

You are beginning to understand yourself and what you want and do not want.

Your opinions have gotten stronger. You see what others are doing and find yourself judging a bit more than usual because suddenly, you realize that you have certain boundaries in your life and add things to your list of what is acceptable and what is not.

You are insecure and then secure. You laugh and cry with the greatest force of your life. You feel alone and scared and confused. Suddenly change is the enemy and you try to cling onto the past with dear life but soon realize that the past is drifting further away and there is nothing to do but stay where you are or move forward.

You get your heart broken and wonder how someone you loved could do such damage to you or you lay in bed and wonder why you can't meet anyone decent enough to get to know better.

You love someone, but maybe love someone else too, and cannot figure out why you are doing this because you are not a bad person.

One night stands and random hook ups start to look cheap and getting wasted and acting like an idiot starts to look pathetic.You go through the same emotions and questions over and over and talk with your friends about the same topics because you cannot seem to make a decision.

You worry about loans and money and the future and making a life for yourself, and while winning the race would be great, right now you'd just like to be a contender!

What you may not realize is that everyone reading this relates to it. We are in our best of times and our worst of times, trying as hard as we can to figure this whole thing out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2. The Carnival of the Mundane is being hosted here. Here's what the Blundering Amarican had to say about votre dévouée here:

"With her expertise in international movies, Fitena will make an interesting addition to the International Trade Commission. The unofficial White House comment was, "She can focus on what's really important and brings a perspective from Mauritius. Who was the last nominee you heard with those characteristics?""

You tell me!?

Great week end to y'all!

Tags: Age :.: Time :.: Friends :.: People :.: Love :.: Carnival of the Mundane :.: Fitèna :.:

...volution

2006-05-10T07:21:00.000Z

Yestarday, you never saw him before!
Yesterday it was a glance, a look, a smile, a voice, a smell.
Yesterday it was the way he walked, the way he talked, the way he thought.
Yesterday its was colliding into each other just like in the movies and staring at each other.
Yesterday it was a crush, a coup de foudre, while you're just minding your business the least expecting it.
Yesterday it happened au hasard.
Yesterday you waited for THE soul mate.
Yesterday, he was the one, you just felt it in your bones.

Yesterday you beamed and giggled andwent to bed with a dreamy smile.

Today, you see him before.
Today its Information Technology,
Today its a PC, a mouse, a modem and his picture.
Today you know who he says he is, his favourite colour.
Today you can tell if he's lousy at grammar from how he describes himself.
Today he has the right to say “beautiful specimen looking for beautiful specimen”.
Today you can read his psychological profile and the machine tells you how compatible you are.
Today you browse, wrong hair colour, eyes colour, weight, teeth, income, click, delete, discard, click.
Today first click is a free trial, you test the product, look for faulty components, when satisfied you click.
Today its a calculated move.
Today you go looking for your soul mate.
Today, he might be this one, wait no, that one, better picture.

Today you're unsure, you take a pill and go to bed, you have a headche.

----------------------------------------

[Bonus to make you smile]

Tags: [Dating] :.: [Relationships] :.: [IT] :.: C'est la Vie!:.: Fitèna

Pensée

2006-05-09T11:35:00.000Z

"Whatever God's dream about man may be, it seems certain it cannot come true unless man cooperates."

Stella Terrill Mann

Ugly

2006-05-08T07:20:00.001Z

What is the world coming to? What are we turning into? Is there a plausible explanation to explain, not justify, things we sometimes do? Is there an excuse, a valid excuse for some of our deeds? I have questions. Many questions. No answer is good enough. Am I being over exigent? I don't believe so. You wouldn't either.

I remember how I used to loath watching the news. It started some four years ago. This instinctive recoil when I'd hear the news starting generic. I read the papers, preferably when there were no pictures to illustrate particular news. I started quitting that too little by little; I realised its the pictures which make the paper sell. The worst, the better.

Last year, I thought about it and decided that I was being immature, that my not watching the news or reading the papers was not going to change anything, that on the contrary I should be doing just that if I cared for my fellow human beings, that I should be aware as to what is going on in the world, that that is what would make me a responsible citizen of the world.

I hadn't heard about this in the news, nor did I read it. Not yet. The passengers of the van to Port Louis were discussing it. I wasn't really listening so I didn't think nothing of it. I thought it'd happen somewhere, in another country. Then my friend L told me about it. She came form France to spend a week with us. She asked me Have you heard about it? I said yeah, but I wasn't listening. She said It's terrible. I said Yes, its terrible. My head was aching real bad, I couldn't come up with a word strong enough to describe it.

I then read in the papers, yesterday, what the mother said. She said I hope when it's all over, things will get back to normal and she'd forget it all. What is normal? I ask the written words. Then I think, She's a mother. What has she got left but Hope? Deep down she knows nothing would ever e normal with her little girl but she's got to hope.

A child. A 10 years old child. I haven't seen her but I picture her with a pink dotted dress. A big bow tying the dress. A ponytail. Big cheeks. Still fat from baby fat. The big round belly looks incongruous on her little frame. She can't think of a way to stand, sit or lay to relieve herself from this weight. The weight of this infant growing inside her. A six months infant in this 10 years old little girl.

The father? Allegedly, her father.

Law and Humour

2006-05-05T09:27:00.000Z

When I was a child, I had dreams about being a doctor. A Surgeon. Cutting people up and sewing them back again. I also thought that movie people were courageous. Imagine have a job where you get killed?! I started wondering about their "courage" when the dead-in-the-previous-movie people popped on the screen in other movies. it puzzled me and I decided that "no, they worked in this one then in that other one!" Then I grew up.

I decided I'd be a lawyer. Its still a profession am contemplating. But since I read what is ci-dessous, am reconsidering.

ATTORNEY: Are you sexually active?
WITNESS: No, I just lie there.
______________________________

ATTORNEY: What is your date of birth?
WITNESS: July 18th.
ATTORNEY: What year?
WITNESS: Every year.
_____________________________________

ATTORNEY: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?
WITNESS: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.
______________________________________

ATTORNEY: This myasthenia gravis, does it affect your memory at all?
WITNESS: Yes.
ATTORNEY: And in what ways does it affect your memory?
WITNESS: I forget.
ATTORNEY: You forget? Can you give us an example of something you forgot?
_____________________________________

ATTORNEY: How old is your son, the one living with you?
WITNESS: Thirty-eight or thirty-five, I can't remember which.
ATTORNEY: How long has he lived with you?
WITNESS: Forty-five years.
_____________________________________

ATTORNEY: What was the first thing your husband said to you that morning?
WITNESS: He said, "Where am I, Cathy?"
ATTORNEY: And why did that upset you?
WITNESS: My name is Susan.
______________________________________
ATTORNEY: Do you know if your daughter has ever been involved in voodoo?
WITNESS: We both do.
ATTORNEY: Voodoo?
WITNESS: We do.
ATTORNEY: You do?
WITNESS: Yes, voodoo.
______________________________________

ATTORNEY: Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his
sleep, he doesn't know about it until the next morning?

WITNESS: Did you actually pass the bar exam?
___________________________________

ATTORNEY: The youngest son, the twenty-year-old, how old is he?
WITNESS: Uh, he's twenty-one..
________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Were you present when your picture was taken?
WITNESS: Would you repeat the question?
______________________________________

ATTORNEY: So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8th?
WITNESS: Yes.
ATTORNEY: And what were you doing at that time?
WITNESS: Uh....
______________________________________

ATTORNEY: She had three children, right?
WITNESS: Yes.
ATTORNEY: How many were boys?
WITNESS: None.
ATTORNEY: Were there any girls?
______________________________________

ATTORNEY: How was your first marriage terminated?
WITNESS: By death.
ATTORNEY: And by whose death was it terminated?
______________________________________

ATTORNEY: Can you describe the individual?
WITNESS: He was about medium height and had a beard.
ATTORNEY: Was this a male or a female?
______________________________________

ATTORNEY: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a
deposition notice which I sent to your attorney?
WITNESS: No, this is how I dress when I go to work.
______________________________________

ATTORNEY: Doctor, how many of your autopsies have you performed on dead
people?
WITNESS: All my autopsies are performed on dead people.
______________________________________

ATTORNEY: ALL your responses MUST be oral, OK? What school did you go to?
WITNESS: Oral.
______________________________________

ATTORNEY: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?
WITNESS: The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m.
ATTORNEY: And Mr. Denton was dead at the time?
WITNESS: No, he was sitting on the table wondering why I was doing an
autopsy on him!
______________________________________

ATTORNEY: Are you qualified to give a urine sample?
WITNESS: Huh?
______________________________________

ATTORNEY: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a
pulse?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: Did you check for blood pressure?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY Did you check for breathing?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you
began the autopsy?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: How can you be so sure, Doctor?
WITNESS: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.
ATTORNEY: But could the patient have still been alive, nevertheless?
WITNESS: Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing
law.

[Am nursing a very very bad ache here

but couldn't consider starting my week end

without giving you a post.

I was forwarded the lawyer "pearls" a while ago,

thought I'd share it.

So, this better make you smile!]

Tags: law .:. .humour. :.:.movies. .:.

We wont' repeat it enough....

2006-05-02T05:31:00.000Z

There once was a woman who woke up one morning, looked in the mirror, and noticed she had only three hairs on her head.

"Well," she said, "I think I'll braid my hair today."? So she did and she had a wonderful day.

The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and saw that she had only two hairs on her head.

"H-M-M, " she said, "I think I'll part my hair down the middle today."? So she did and she had a grand day.

The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed that she had only one hair on her head.

"Well," she said, "Today I'm going to wear my hair in a pony tail." So she did and she had a fun, fun day.

The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed that there wasn't a single hair on her head.

"YEAH!" she exclaimed, "I don't have to fix my hair today!"

Attitude is everything.

["Stolen" with permission from Br. C. S.]

Person's Story

2006-04-26T08:36:00.000Z

When Person was a child, Person had Mother and Father. Later came Brother and Sister. A Family. With its ups and downs. The essence of every relation.

When Person turned into an adolescent, Person saw things differently. There were differences and clashes. Person thought nobody cared. Person fought a lot with brother and Sister, Mother and Father. Person vowed to do everything in order to be able to escape from Family and be alone. Nothing like being alone.

Soon after finishing studies paid by both Mother and Father, Person took off.

Great life.

Person goes far enough from Family so they don't drop over unexpected. Person sends one card, two cards, three cards then zero card back home. Mother and Father call because they are worried. Person changes phone number and forgets to communicate new number. Mother and father receive a postcard from different places of the planet.

When asked by neighbours about Person, Mother and Father proudly smile and say “Person is a Big Person now, hangs around the VIPs”.

The neighbours are jealous because their children haven't made so well in life.

Person's favourite song goes like this:

"I live in MY own apartment
paid by My own money
I come home when I want to
invite whoever I want
make MY own food
with My own hands
eat what I like
go where I want
and then I blog about it all
on MY blog
about MY life
I don't need nobody, no no no, nobody”

One day Mother and Father die. Funeral. Brother and Sister are there. They are inconsolable. The neighbours wonder where person is. Nobody knows. They don't ask Sister. She was so upset the last time they asked her. They don't ask Brother either, he'd turned so red when they'd asked him. The neighbour wonder what happened to Person. Nobody knows.

Person cannot be contacted since there's no address and phone number. Person hears about it through the relative of a person who knew someone who knew someone else who has someone who lives in Person's childhood town.

Person is distressed. There were so many things that haven't been shared with the Parents. Person tries to explain it all to Soul Mate. Soul Mate is puzzled “you never ever mentionned them, I never asked because I thought they were dead!”

Person contacts Sister. A child answers then shouts “Mummy! Phone! A person! Daddy, call Mummy!”

Person is shocked, Sister has a child? Sister is married?

- Hello, says Person.
- .....
- Sister, it's me.
- (crying, sobs)
- Sister, please (crying) am sorry... am so sorry...
- SORRY? You're sorry? Shouts Sister.

Sister slams the phone down.

Person does not call Brother. Person thinks, it's no use.

The years pass and Sister and Brother talk about Person. Maybe the phone would ring one day and it would be Person. Maybe person would realise that Sister was sad and that's why she'd slammed the phone down and not because she hated Person. Person is Family.

Brother has another opinion. He thinks Person cares about one person on earth and that's Person. Person, the forever sorry for Person's own ass. Person, who thinks that the whole world revolves around Person.

The years pass and Person thinks they hate Person to death. Person's favourite song is still the same but it lacks... its lacks warmth, affection, understanding... Person has friends but at the end of the day they all go back to their families. Person is Lonely.

“Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family.
Whatever you call it, whoever you are,
you need one.”

Jane Howard

Blogging for a while

2006-04-22T07:19:00.000Z

I've missed this! The two previous posts (if they can be called so) where sent via my mobile phone. Which is also on the verge of rendre l'âme. Am technologically ruined.

What has been happening to my PC is that it keeps on reseting by itself. No time to switch in on and its already resenting by itself. You have no idea how frustrating this can be.

The PC is my one and unique outil de travail. All my work is computerised and I have since the beginning of the week the sentiment of being paralysed. I read and read and read till my head hurt and answered calls and made calls till my ears hurt. Then I'd sit and look and my dead PC, raise my arms to the heavens and wail My? Oh mon Dieu, Why? (sobs)

The timer says I have 3 minutes to go. Phewww am out and posting this while I can!

Thanks for your support guys and vive The International Slap Your PC Day! Do it for me!

2006-04-19T15:18:00.000Z

Hi all! Zut et zut! My PC blogged down! For those of you wondering, thats why am not around! Mince!
I wanna bloooooog!
Peace

He loves me, I love you not anymore

2006-04-13T05:53:00.000Z

The rate of divorce is exploding. There are talks about four days marriages. Yes, you read me right, FOUR days. Four as in: 1+3, 2+2, 3+1. It’s not sad anymore. It’s plain absurd.

“I made a mistake; I should never have gotten married to you!”
“We made a mistake; we should have never gotten married!”

We’re human and mistake making prone, is this reason good enough to justify divorce?

One of the conclusions I’ve come to is that getting married is not the mistake people think they make. The mistake they actually make is fall in love. What? You don’t agree? I see you shaking you head there! You’re appalled and you’re thinking “what’s getting into Fitèna?! She’s going bananas? It’s normal to fall in love. It’s great….”

Hear me out.

What do we fall in love with anyway?

The way she walks. The way he cocks his head when he’s listening to you. They way she says your name. The way he talks about his brothers’ kids. The way she puts her hair up. His smile. Her throat laugh. His sense of humor. Her joie de vivre. His zodiac sign. She loves football. He real looks at you. She does not look through you and gives you her full attention.

You’re in love. You date. The sky is blue, the love is true and whom you love is “you”.

Forgot the package didn’t you?

“The way she walks. The way he cocks his head when he’s listening to you. They way she says your name. The way he talks about his brothers’ kids. The way she puts her hair up. His smile. Her throat laugh. His sense of humor. Her joie de vivre. His zodiac sign. She loves football. He real looks at you. She does not look through you and gives you her full attention.”

You get all of that plus the person.

Person as in: Bad hair days. Is a vegetarian and you’re not. Is a cleanliness freak and you’re not. Brother-in-law not a very nice person. Sister-in-law calls at all times because sibling was there for her before you came along. Mother in law calls you “mon enfant” and you hate that but can’t bring yourself to tell her. You tell other party. Other party thinks you’re exaggerating. Because other party THINKS and your thought s and his/hers might clash. As is it, you don’t like his red shirt, the one he wore on your first date and you thought it looked great. As it is, he thinks you should cut your hair. As is it, you think he should grow up and quit making jokes all the time. You forget that that’s what you fell in love with.

You wake up one morning and you definitely don’t recognize the other party. “I made a mistake” you think.

You think wrong. You just fell in love with 15% of the person and forgot the 85% essentials.

Trying to change the other into someone who corresponds more to what the ideal partner is for us. Being always together, doing everything together, going everywhere together. These are the other factors which, I think, lead to divorce. To overcome them shouldn’t be a very very arduous task, if you believe in your couple but “Its over, you’re a good person and am sure you’ll find someone…” blablablabla….

“Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.”

(Kahlil Gibran)

But what do I know anyway. I’ve no experience in the matter. Maybe you’d care enough to enlighten me.

Money, Money, Money, must be funny....

2006-04-10T06:38:00.000Z

Yesterday I understood what “little pleasures” of life mean. I wondered why we always carve for more. Why we are never content with what we have. Why when its cold we're mad and wish it were hot and when its hot we're mad and wish it were cold. Human nature. I guess.

My sister and me went to the market. “La Foire” (the bazaar). The end of the month is long gone and we're broke but we went anyway. Just to browse and ohhh ahhh at the displays. It was real fun. I then treated us with Kebabs. We took yogurts and decided to go sit in the municipality's garden and enjoy lunch. Which we did. Immensely. We made up lives for the people around us. Reminisced about life in Niger, Côte d'Ivoire and Sudan. Remembered a picnic we had December of last year with friends who came to mean a lot to us. It was beautiful. There were pigeons around. The sky was so blue and the weather so good. And I started wondering. Why are we never satisfied?

The French news reported about this 16 year old kid who is in coma for rescuing another teenager. The latter was on the point of being racketed at the gate of their high school. The aggressor is 14 years old.

Can you believe that? What can possibly drive a 14 year old to such violence. To say that its materialistic gain would be simplist but it is the case. He went on this kid with the intention of getting off with a mobile phone, an i pod, money.

On Envoyé Spécial, there was a doc on “Mules”. Its a term used to name those who transport drugs inside their bodies from one country to another. With the ultra sophisticated devices used in airport now, many are found out and arrested.

They interviewed this woman who said that t the time she did not measure the consequences. She had trouble making ends meet and decided why not go ahead with the transaction. She was going to get paid for it. The money would be welcome. Only, she got arrested. In a foreign country. With no money. With her children left motherless back home.

When I was a kid, someone mentioned Dalida to me. They told me she committed suicided and explained that it meant that she killed herself. I was horrified and fascinated. Since I'd been told about all the places she sang and the very important people she met and the money she had, i concluded that she got bored and went to see what the hereafter looked like. This belief strangely stayed with me for a very long time. All the people who were committing suicide and whom I was hearing about were all rich. I now know that people chose to end their lives for many reasons. Many of which we might never know, so incomprehensible it seems at times.

Killing for more. Stealing for more. Trafficking for more. Lying for more. Betraying for more. More money, more power, more standing, more appreciation.

I think that Jean Jacques Goldman is absolutely right when he sings

"If I had this,
If I had that,
I would be this,
I would be that
Without things I would not exist
I don't attract attention
Am envious of what others have
I die from what I don't own
....
Things give me an identity”

My mind is created for my own thoughts, which am sharing above, you're entitled to yours. And I want to hear them.

A Ball Story

2006-04-06T08:08:00.000Z

Once upon a time in a little village of the World. Man walking down the street. He's happy, he's merry. He seems so. But he has a secret. A terrible, terrible secret. A secret not to be told even to the wind lest it tell it to the trees. He wants to talk about it but talking about it would be even more dangerous than what the secret is about. So he keeps it to himself.

One day, Man trips. There's a “fil indienne” of Women heading back from the market in front of him. Man, did not do it in purpose but he stumbles into Woman One, then Woman Two, Then Women Three. The Four of them turn into a human Ball which goes racing down the road.

The Ball passes into towns and villages of World and takes any Person in its way along with it. The Ball gets bigger and bigger. It is black, white, yellow and red.

A yard with Children playing football. A shadow falls across them. They look up. Its the Ball, its coming down on them. They have no time to run and the Ball isn't slowing. The Ball passes and the Children are no longer there. They've been taken too.

Mother humming a lullaby to Child. The Ball does no come near them, its trajectory is different and then, Mother is Man's wife. He'd stumbled into her first.

Man is gone. Had things been different he would have prevented the tragedy and been a hero. But he couldn't because the World's society does not allow it. He would have been miserable. He would have lost his job. He wouldn't have been able to feed his family. Wife would have left him. Friends would have deserted him. Even those whose job it is to help him would have turned away from him. He would have explained it all. Explained that they could touch, hold and kiss him. That they could love and help him. But they weren't, are not and might never be ready to listen.

Those who saw the Ball passing swore they heard Man sobbing. Asking to watch out for other Balls.

[This week the Sidaction had a number of activities, in France. Line Renaud was guest at the Grand Journal de Canal + to discuss the Sidaction's activities, the problems faced by those infected by the virus of HIV. The story is actually a 40 seconds an ad which was run.
Informative links: UNAIDS & AMfar

This is a post to celebrate The International Quelque Chose Day]

Allô

2006-04-04T05:52:00.000Z

What's the day today? April 4! Happy International Be Reliable Day. Voilà, that's done!

-----------------------****-----------------------

I've been meaning to post about this for a long time. The fact that I don not own a digital camera to post the relevant illustration put off the idea. I thought about it again yesterday and decided to go ahead with the post... When I get a picture I'll post it, the literature should do for the time being.

I live in a town called "Quatre-Bornes"; right in the centre of the island. When you live in "Quatre-Bornes" you have easy access to any part of the island. I guess that's where the name came from. They also call it "La Ville des Fleurs"; Flower Ville. Many of the avenues bear flower names. My avenue is Glaieules Avenue. I've yet to see a single Glaieules along the Avenue.

Now, I think it was two years ago, a branch office of the local phone company (BOLPC) was opened on Quatre Bornes Route Royal. Two cabins; one local and the other international have been set in front of the BOLPC. Great, everybody thought. There was no phone cabin there before and you had to walk to upper town to make calls if you did not have a phone.

I always thought there was something wrong with the phone cabins. I never could figure out what. I'd pass in front of the cabins on the way to the bakery or the bus stop and giggle for, apparently, no reason. The people using the cabin would make me laugh. There had to be something wrong. I don't think am a mean person and I laugh WITH people rather than laugh AT them .

It took me a while but I finally figured it out.

Now, the two cabins are situated on the Route Royal. The main road. The road almost every car uses to go from one point of the island to the other. The cars go vrrrrroming and brooooming all day and night long.

The people calling are forever shouting: "Parlez plus fort, je vous entend mal!!!" Speak up, I cannot hear you. They glare at the passing cars and at you when you pass by with a bunch of loud friends.

"Allô? Allô? Allô?" shout they.
"Cling, cling, clang..." goes in the coins.
"Mince. Oh lala!"
"#%$^^&**&"
"Tsst. tsst. tsst" go those who are waiting for the turns, shaking their heads.

They do the "tsst. tsst. tsst" thing more when its a foreigner using the cabin. They must think that the poor devils have no idea how to use the cabin. Only, they too go:

"Allô? Allô? Allô?"

"Cling, cling, clang..."

"Mince. Oh lala!"

"#%$^^&**&"

when its their turn.

I wonder how long its going to take everyone to realize that there's absolutely nothing wrong with the phones. It is the cabins they're in.

You see, they're open cabins situated on a main road where cars and motorcycles go vrrrrroming and brooooming all day and night long .

Flesh Remembrances

2006-03-31T06:44:00.000Z

The most thing happened. I was curled in bed. Reading a book - Geaorge by Alexandre Dumas - when it happened. I have this necklace I like playing with. I do it when am distracted or annoyed or nervous. Here I was just engrossed in the novel. At one point I turned in ed and pulled the necklace and it scrapped my neck. It burned a little and I had the most vivid flash back. I was puzzled and went to ask mum about it. She looked at me in disbelief and said "you can't possibly remember this! You weren't even three year old!" But I did.

When I was not een three years old, my bigger cousins took me for a wedding dance not far from our place. I had this necklace my mum made me word. The pendant was engraved with some verses of the Quran. When we came back home, the necklace had disappeared. My mum said I told her someone had pulled it. How I came to remember this I have no idea. I guess the flesh just remembers.

In this case I had no scare or anything to remind me of the event. I remember other events for for the presence of scares.

The third finger of my left hand has a slight bump at the tip when seen palm ap. When I was five, I almost took my finger off playing with a strip. My mum did wnat it to be stiched and she just bandaged it, thus the memento.

When I was 61/2 - this I'll never forget - given enough time, my cousin would have cut off my right foot toe. With a knife. I just stood there paralised while he was sawing my toe away. His mother saw us and screamed. The aunties and my mother came running and pulled him away from me. I started crying. His mother's screams had scared me.

At 8 I was bitten by a dog.

At 12 I hurt myself riding a motorcyle - A P50. This one was real bad. My ankle was grazed by I couldn't even remember what when I was asked and this little wound I thought was no big deal got infected. God, it hurt. Took more than a month to heal. It still itches when it gets cold or there's too much humidity.

At 15 I broke my ankle playing foot ball with the boys at school. I had to go to scholl with cructhes. It was fun.

Now, am an adult.

Come again!

2006-03-27T11:21:00.000Z

I had Kenyans friend living not far from my place. They've now moved to the UK. We keep in touch. The mother told me once that all their acquaintances had trouble with her daughter's name. Whenever she was asked about her name she'd answer:

- Tawa!
- Tawa? Hum... what a lovely name..
- Not Tawa, Tawaa!
- Tawa?
- Noooo, Ta-waaaaaaaa!

The acquaintances would turn to the mother

- C. do tell us please, what your girl's name?
- Tara.

To the girl:

- Oh, your name is Tara!?
- Yes. Tawa.

I went to CMLH's and read about MIM. I read the post CMLH referred to and somehow was reminded of The Problem of Tara's Name. About how we hear what we want to hear. How prone we are to making up meanings of what we hear.

Communication is not just expressing oneself. Its a to and fro with to be followed steps:

Saying it
the confirmation that we've been heard
listening to the other party
confirming that we've heard him right

These seemingly simple sequences have a number of traps. The other party, in fact, does not react to what we've said but rather to what he hears in what has been said and more importantly to the way what we've said touches him. “not being on the same page” issues are thus inevitable between what one actually meant to say and what the other heard and vice versa.

This is one of the major problems, if not the number one problem of communication. Its not a communication any more. Its a monologue dialogue. Where you're the only one to get what you're saying.

MIM ended up switching off her comments. Why? Because, apparently, some people do not expect and resent you for THEY not seeing eye to eye with you on certain issues. Seems like we're blogging communication problem to me.

Don't worry, be crazy

2006-03-23T06:30:00.000Z

When I was still is primary school, I read about this saint. I don't remember his name or the title of the book. All I remember is me thinking that the guy was too much a fool and couldn't possibly the saint and great person the author of the book was making him to be. What did I know? I was but a child. I thought I was so smart.

It said that, in Baghdad (I think) lived this pious man whose every action and every word was for Him only. One day - I remember not in what circumstances - he asked God to free him. The next minute he lost his mind.

I remember thinking that I'd better never ask to be set free from anything. I remember wondering how, for all his knowledge, the saint didn't realize he was making a mistake. I remember this tale worrying me a lot.

Now, I wonder.

Lately I've been thinking about GrisGris a lot. He's mad, GrisGris. We used to make fun of him. He'd chase us around laughing hard. He was very dirty and had the dirtiest looking dreadlocks. He walked as if he was getting electrocuted at each step. That made us laugh so hard our tummies ached. Kids can be so very cruel, no?

We'd talk about GrisGris and decide that if we were in his shoes, we'd never laugh. We'd be miserable. We'd cry the whole tie till someone took pity on us and cured us. We thought so because we were sane. GrisGris, now I realize, had no such worries. Man, he must be (if he's still alive) the happiest man on earth.

Wars. Money. Diseases. Betrayal. Blood. Bombs. Hiroshima. Poison. Stabbing. Petrol. Globalisation. Capitalism. Hate. Dictatorship. Discrimination. Terror. Crimes against humanity. Run away children. Racism. Prostitution. Holocaust. Nuclear Bombs. What do they mean to him? What does he care about all of them, GrisGris.

He's cool, he's "zen", he's merry, he's happy. How I envy him.

-----UPDATE (UNRELATED? I DON'T THINK SO!)-----

Read Suley. Free Abdul Rahman.

An Afghan is held and risks execution. Why? Because he converted from Islam to Christianism.

Religion and Faith are between one and his God. Who are we to play God, judge and decide which religion and what path our fellow human beings should follow. Is this Islam?! This is TOTALLY Absurd!

PCing

2006-03-22T09:18:00.000Z

Had a glimpse of what life would be like without blogging; not a pretty sight! I thought I'd go crazy! I've been having the greatest ideas for posts. Many of them Loads of them. And nowhere to post them from, cause my PC broke down!

They brought it back a while ago! Am now searching for the ideas I've been having when it was gone, the PC.

Akuna Matata

2006-03-15T08:02:00.000Z

TV Monde featured a special reportage on Women in Africa on the occasion of the International Women Day. Malian women to be more precise. They talked about their problems, their militant ism, their perception of the whole women's right issue. They talked about their dead daughters who were shot while marching to denounce the dictatorial regime of their country. They kept laughing and smiling the whole time. Is there any such thing as sad laughter? There's no other way I can explain this. The Laughter, I mean.

“Je rit, je cache, le vrai derrière un masque”
“I laugh, I hide, the real behind a mask”

sings Natasha St Pierre.

One lady finally explains it.

You see African women, in Africa, they're always smiling. They look and sound happy, content with life. This is because, in Africa you're never alone. “That's your problem! Deal with it!” is an advice which is almost never given. Grief is shared. Wherever you turn, you're lent an ear. You're fed. You're housed.

My family was among the first Muslim families to settle in Boundiali. A village in the North of Ivory Coast. My paternal grand father was the Imam of the mosque. Like his father before him. We never really lived in Ivory Coast. We went there for holidays only. It fascinated me.

We have this huge huge “Land”. My grandfather, his brothers, the wives, the children and the children of some of the children all built houses and live here. I still don't know the names of half of them all. There are so many of them. We, my siblings and I were really spoiled. Maybe because we didn't live there. Only, whenever we'd go back to where we came from we were all overweight. Not our fault. The food was good and everybody wanted you to taste theirs.

The “Land” was also inhabited by other people. Foreigners. Passing-by-Boundiali people. I forgot to mention threre's only one Hotel in Boundiali and I heard it wasn't doing well then. It's called le Dala (picture). So the Passing-by-Boundiali people are directed to the Imam's house, whoever he is. My grandfather, then. Of course, now I know that they were Passing-by-Boundiali people. When we asked then, we were told “he's a brother”, “she's a sister”, “they're relatives”. “Another one!” we'd think. The last time we went to Boundiali, 13 years ago, there was a Passing-by-Boundiali lady with her kid living with the people of the land. Her mother came to visit her from far. She got a Permanent Residence Permit. Her mother came to visit and was very happy with her daughters new home.

At nightfall, we'd gather at my granduncle's place and his son would entertain us with stories. Some kids came to memorize Quran which my granduncle taught during the day. It was such a life! It rubbed off on us, for which am grateful.

I spoke to my cousin who lives in France. She calls often. To talk. Calls are expensive. Still. We got to talk about sharing your problems and not letting them bottled in. she says to me “Fatma, you are going to turn into one unhappy girl if you ever come to Europe. You talk to people the way you are doing with me and they'll think you're bananas. You don't talk about your problems here, you deal with them. Better, you pay a shrink to listen to you.” I told her “I have this very very big failing, I was born with a happy disposition.” And we laughed. I do that a lot. Laughing. Therapeutic.

I read in Psychologies Magazine: The people who laugh the most are those who are the most sad. Maybe, but its a positive sadness.

I think about all this, think about what the lady on TV Monde said. I think about how some friends tell me, mockingly, that African's are technologically retarded and have never heard about Internet and chat. I think about it all and smilingly tell myself that whatever changes Africa has undergone, the humanity and the importance given to relationships is something we're holding on to.

PROCONPROCON

2006-03-13T09:09:00.000Z

If the prefix "con" is the opposite of the prefix "pro", then is "Congress" the opposite of "progress"?

Day

2006-03-10T08:29:00.000Z

On our way back from work, day before yesterday, we noticed the unusual number of cars parked around the new museum of Port Louis. Many suit men and sari women. My sister noticed the official cars, the VIPs'. They, the VIPs, were smiling and shaking hands around. Whats going on? We wondered. I told my sister there must be a banner somewhere showing the reason for the gathering. We soon spotted one:

8th March
Women International Day

huh? Oh yeah! Our Day!
We started dancing around the museum. We ran through the gate. The guards didn't dare stop us. We shook the ministers hands. We posed for pictures with the VIPs. They were bewildered and some went looking for copies of the program. Soon the VIPs bored us and we went on to dance again. Soon, the women – invited – joined us. We held hands and sang making up the lyrics progressively:

“we have a day, we have a Day
You don't have a day, you don't have a day
Ow Baby, ow baby...”

We were great! I remembered Ludacris. I took two women with me and we went to have a chat with the guards while the others were still singing and dancing. We calmly explained to the guards what we wanted them to do. There were four of them. Not good. We grabbed a VIP too and they distributed the roles among themselves. We got back to our sisters, interrupted the singing and dancing and told them what we'd decided to do.

Ten minutes later my sister and I were auto proclaimed head singers – It was our idea in the first place. The other women stood behind us. In from of us stood the dancers: the four guards and the VIP. Just like in a Ludacris or confrère video. We made it clear we wanted them to bump and grind. Of course, we made sure they'd stripped to their underwear. They bumped and bounced while we sang non-Ludacris lyrics:

“Inside my head there lives a dream that I want to see in the sun
Behind my eyes there lives a me that I’ve been hiding for much too long
cause I’ve been, too afraid to let it show
cause I’m scared of the judgment that may follow
Always putting off my living for tomorrow
It’s time to step out on faith, I’ve gotta show my faith
It’s been illusive for so long, but freedom is mine today
I’ve gotta step out on faith, it’s time to show my faith
Procrastination had me down but look what I have found, I found
Strength, courage, and wisdom
And it’s been inside of me all along,
Strength, courage, and wisdom
Inside of me
Behind my pride there lives a me, that knows humility
Inside my voice there is a soul, and in my soul there is a voice
But I’ve been, too afraid to make a choice
cause I’m scared of the things that I might be missing
Running too fast to stop and listen
It’s time to step out on faith, I’ve gotta show my faith
It’s been illusive for so long but freedom is mine today
I’ve gotta step out on faith it’s time to show my faith
Procrastination had me down but look what I have found, I found
Strength, courage, and wisdom
And it’s been inside of me all along,
Strength, courage, and wisdom
Inside of me
I close my eyes and I think of all the things that I want to see
cause I know, now that I’ve opened up my heart I know that
Anything I want can be, so let it be, so let it be
Strength, courage, and wisdom
It’s been inside of me all along,
Strength, courage, wisdom
It’s been inside of me all along, everyday I’m praying for
Strength, courage, and wisdom
To find me, yeah,
Strength, courage, and wisdom
Inside of me
I found it in me, I found it finally
I’m sure to keep it’ cause I like it, I say thank you”.

Cameramen were all over us. They thanked God for sparing them the boredom of listening and filming boring speeches about women and read by men.

Of course none of this happened. We saw the banner and went our way. We don't need a special day. Everyday is our day. The day we'd quit claiming a day would be the day we'd have really won.

Here's a list of Days for the month of March 2006 I found on the net, laugh and celebrate:
6 Chocolate Cheesecake Day
6 Dentists' Day
7 Cereal Day
9 Go Commando Day
10 Telephone Day
10 Money Day
11 Dream Day
12 Plant A Flower Day
12 Alfred Hitchcock Day
12 Department Store Day
13 Uranus Day
14 Pi Day
14 Potato Chip Day
14 Genius Day
14 Full Moon Day
14 White Day
15 Ides Of March
15 Buzzard Day
16 Everything You Do Is Right Day
16 St. Urho's Day
16 Curlew Day
16 Hiccup Day
17 Submarine Day
18 Paper Dress Day
18 Grandparents And Grandchildren Day
18 Quilting Day
19 Let's Laugh Day
19 Chocolate Caramel Day
19 Swallows Day
20 Spring Equinox
20 Smile Rejuvenation Day
20 Astrology Day
21 Flower Day
21 Single Parents Day
22 Sing Out Day
22 International Goof Off Day
22 Roller Coaster Day
22 World Water Day
23 Cuddly Kitten Day
23 Liberty Day
24 Chocolate Covered Raisins Day
24 Houdini Day
27 Photography Day
27 Fly A Kite Day
27 World Theater Day
28 Hot Tub Day
28 Respect Your Cat Day
25 Pecan Day

They forgot the Balds Day! How rude!

Tagged.

2006-03-03T09:14:00.000Z

I've been tagged. For a Meme. By dearest Gr8 Sephanous It's been a long time. I think the last one I did was that super long - some called it monstruous - Meme. What's a Meme? Ask Suley, he told me once, but I forgot the info somewhere in here when I moved.

The Meme is asking for only "Four" of everything. Any significance in that?

Four Jobs I've Had In My Life:
Transit Agent at Freight Net Cargo
Typist and proof reader at Super Printing
Arabic to English translator for my High School library at Aleemiah College
Freelance reporter at Action Magazine

Four Movies I'd Watch Over And Over:
La Liste de Schindler
La Vie est belle
Comme une bête
Mirch Masala

Four Places I've Lived:
Jeddah, Saudi Arabia
Abidjan, Côte d'Ivoire
Say, Niger
Quatre Bornes, Mauritius Island

Four TV Shows I Like To Watch:
ça se discute
Envoyé Spécial
Le Grand Journal, Canal +
Cartoons (The Ragzats especially)

Four Favorite Places I've Been On Vacation: (Can name three only which are the places I have some remembrance of)

Singa and Umdurman, Sudan
Boundiali, Côte d’Ivoire
Nairobi, Kenya

Four Websites I Visit Daily:
Tariq Ramadan
Psychologies
The Herald Tribune
Le Mauricien

Four Of My Favorite Foods:
Sautéed meat with green chili
Lebanese style shawarma
Couscous with lamb
Briani with extra soft meat and potatoes

Four Places I'd Rather Be Right Now:
In bed reading
Pursuing my studies instead of working
Travelling around the world
Buying a camera (after I’d saved the money for and eventually snapping around the world)

Four People I Feel Sorry For Because They're Getting Tagged:
J. Star
Adeline
M

....

No, you three have been tagged so here goes:

Dear Suley - :-)
Dear Neil - Just because it pleases you to be tagged
Dear Tanysha and Dear Jack

Off to home.

F for T

2006-03-01T12:42:00.000Z

"Cultivate the habit of early rising. It is unwise to keep the head long on a level with the feet."
Henry David Thoreau

The Oil War

2006-02-22T10:35:00.000Z

My brother is an addict. He contaminated me. I’ve gotten over it. Not he. His eyes are bloodshot. His fingers twitch all the time. He looks haggard. He’s lost and is still losing weight. Whenever ordered to eat something he says he’s not hungry. My sisters and I have made up our minds. We’re going to sue Nintendo.

Today, I feel sorry for our kids when I see them playing. I don’t even consider it playing. It’s a parody of playing. You don’t play by yourself with a machine. You don’t concentrate when you play. You just let yourself go and… play. Times have changed though. Poor today kids, we yesterday kids had all the fun.

I hated dolls. They bored me. I could not comprehend how anyone in her right senses would spend hours on a stupid doll “accessorizing” her. What a waste of time. Girls are such sissies. My best friends were all boys. We used to play bad guys and cops. No one ever wanted to be a bad guy. They died when shot. The cops resurrected. We all ended up being good cops who killed each other and resurrected.

It was fun but we got bored and started provoking each other in order to have a real fight. It sometimes ended with our mothers yelling at each other. The one whose nose got broken mother did most of the yelling. We hoped one day they’d quit yelling and have a real fight.

My best friends name was Ahmed. His parents were originally from Tchad but lived in Sudan. His father was a colleague of mine. University Professors. He didn’t know how to fight and always got beaten. That was bad, especially in school where it meant a forever loss of respect. We explained it all to him but he didn’t understand how important it was not to be the beaten guy. You had to win more often that lose a fight. You weren’t supposed to cry or go tell you parents who did it to you.

Not only was he a coward, he wasn’t a smart one at that. He provoked. Not the small kids he could handle. No. The big guys. One big guy in particular. Oumar was his name.

Oumar was one ad and nasty kid. He was older than us. I always wondered how old he was but never got to know. When Ahmed and I got admitted to school – on the same day – Oumar was three classes ahead. When we passed our Primary School Certificates Exams, Oumar was two classes behind us. We decided he was just a bad kid who enjoyed torturing other kids.

I still have no idea what went between the two of them. Ahmed and Oumar. During break time, Oumar came over and told Ahmed that he was going to show him good after school for what he did. I asked what the matter was and Oumar told me to mind my own business. I thought that wasn’t fair, I was just asking and he didn’t have to talk to me that way. Oumar said fine, he’ll show me too. Ahmed bared his teeth at Oumar. Oumar scowled and said rendez-vous after school. Only he was talking to Ahmed, he was talking to me. What to do, I had to be there otherwise my reputation was done.

After school, Ihad an errand to run for a friend of my mum. She gave me a 2.5 liters empty gallon I had to fill with peanut oil at the grocer’s. When I got back to school where we would be picked up to home – 7 kilometers far – my classmates and Oumar’s were holding siege. Some thought I’d run away. They cheered when I turned the corner.

Oumar and I took our positions. There’s sand all over the place.

Oumar: C’om, hit me… touch me…
I: No, you start….

(That’s the way our fights started, you had to touch your opponent for the fight to be declared open)

Slaaaaaap!

He slapped me. I almost fell. He snickered. It was no use trying to slap him back, he was so much taller than me. I hit him with the galloon. One of his classmates tried to grab it. I lashed at him. I guess I looked demented because he sure got scared.

Oumar slapped me some more. I dropped the gallon and tried to dodge. He started playing Jackie Chan and his classmates cheered him. Mine were looking worried. If I lost the fight, they’d take the shame too. Oumar was getting excited. I was starting to tire and he knew it. Soon I’d fall and he’d get over me, slap me some more and be declared winner. Then, Eureka!

His being tall was an advantage, I decided my being shorter should be too. His next Jackie Chan kick found me prepared. I grabbed his foot. He had nothing to hold on to. The sand was slippery. My classmates went crazy. I pulled and pulled him! He was yelling, I was laughing. I pulled and pulled and he fell. I kept on pulling. The stupid started playing mad and got sand all over his face blinding himself. I sat over him. Took my galloon and hit him on the face, the chest, whenever I could reach.

The classmates chanted my name. It was oh so great!

I won.

The next day Oumar brought his father to school to show him who’d done it to him. The Director came to fetch me feeling sorry for me because he knew Oumar was a no-good kid. When he saw me, his father’s jaw dropped. He looked at his son and the length and size of him and at tiny skinny me. He slapped his son for shaming him so and went home.

I wonder how they are doing.

Tags: Games:.: Africa:.:

Mythomania

2006-02-15T11:33:00.000Z

“Pariah” is a very disturbing movie. Horrifyingly so. I have had the opportunity of watching it a while ago. You can’t enjoy a movie which you watch wishing you were somewhere else. I did thinking about Paolo Coelho’s “The Alchemist”. Nothing happens without a purpose. Everything has a meaning. Anything might be a sign. I learned something out of this movie.

When I was still in primary school, I read the story of a little boy who lied to his friends. He pretended he lived into a castle, which you got to by crossing a drawbridge. Impressed, the friends decided to come see for themselves. Of course, some of them doubted the veracity of what he said. The little liar now had a problem; his house was a simple little white painted house half an hour from school. After worrying himself sick, he told his mother about how he lied and that his friends were coming over and his reputation would be done at school. His mother thought over the matter then advised him to welcome the friends and then tell them that the house he’d described is the house of his dreams. The one he wished he lived into.

When I read the story, it worried me and fascinated me to know that even mothers lie. Today, I wonder what the little boy turned into. A compulsive liar?

Compulsive liars – I believe the proper term is Mythomaniac – are those who have the tendency to lie frequently for no apparent reason. The profound reasons are said to be, circumstantially, the need to enhance the self’s value, the fear to displease, to provoke an argument, the fear or hurting others…

To come back to the subject of “Pariah” gave me the ideal and the most accurate illustration of the “mythomania” issue.

Scene # 1
- You know my brother died of an overdose?
- You are so full of s**t!
- Its true!
…….
- It seems like your brother died of 50 different things!
- I had two brothers!

Scene # 2
- Oh my God! Look, a shark! My brother was eaten by a shark.
…..
- My only brother.

Scene # 3
- I gotta tell you am really sorry about Brian…. Niggards killed my brother too.

Poor Brother, rest in Peace.

Uniformed

2006-02-14T08:18:00.000Z

The Sky is Blue, My Love is true, whom I love is you... Oops, that's a side effect of Valentine's Day. Wrong story but Happy Valentine's Day still to all of you people! May you life be full of love!

Leaves are green, the sky is blue, I am always black, you are sometimes red, green, yellow or rosy pink. Color matching is an obsession with me, you might not care what you wear as long as you're comfortable. We're beautiful, we're different.

As far as I can recall, I hated uniforms, school uniforms. I went to a primary school where we didn't have to wear them. Even if we had, we would have been about a 1/4 of the school population to be able to afford the uniforms. They were very poor the kids in my school. The boys came to school with a slate and chalk. No books, no copybooks. They came to school wearing their underwear only. I used to think it was funny then. I was a child, I was cruel.

Am getting out of subject here, lets get back to the uniforms. I hated wearing it to secondary school here in Mauritius. It was an ugly uniform at that! I think I unconsciously picked jobs where I didn't have to wear no uniform. It's so depressing to see people dressed alike. The sight greets me every morning, by the time the day is over I get used to it. The next day it depresses me even more that the day before. Uniforms everywhere. School uniforms, work uniforms.

The uniformed people even talk and act alike. They have the same attitudes, the same mannerisms. It's terrible! Some lucky employees are lucky; they get to personalize their uniforms. A brooch here, a scarf there. And the uniformed also huddle together in groups and whisper furiously to each other while darting suspicious looks around.

I understand uniforms in certain fields; medical, military, cuisine etc... I just don't see the point for, for example, school teachers to dress alike, which they're going to do soon in a school I know. I've been reading about the politics behind school uniforms, how's its been noted that it reduces violence. Am skeptic though.

Am starting to make peace with the uniforms since I observed this other phenomenon which has been prevailing for the last couple of years. I thought it was my eyes playing tricks on me or that I was just imagining it but no! I did see Ciara yesterday! No, wait a minute, I actually saw 2, no... 4 Ciaras yesterday! I guess Alicia Keys is out. Before her, it was Eve. A new video is released and all the girls turn into the singer. Dress like her, talk like her, chew the gum like her, walk like her... be her. It's terrible.

The boys are more faithful to their choices. They were and still are 50 Cent. They even talk with the mouth sideways. I think they have no idea the guy was shot into the region of the mouth which is why he talks the way he does. Oh my God, tell them not, who knows, they might try and get their cheeks shot too!

The Sunday before last, I went to Flic en Flac. My friend owns a three floor bungalow there. We went up on the terrace to breath in the fresh sea air and enjoy the view. As far as the eye could see from where I was sitting were bungalows, all with blue roofs. I was told they are owned by the same person. I stayed up ten minutes and couldn't stand the blue no more. That's sad, blue was my favorite color.

[Uniforms]

My blogging personality...

2006-02-10T09:03:00.000Z

Quizzy day.

Your Blogging Type is Pensive and Philosophical

You blog like no one else is reading...
You tend to use your blog to explore ideas - often in long winded prose.
Easy going and flexible, you tend to befriend other bloggers easily.
But if they disagree with once too much, you'll pull them from your blogroll!

What's Your Blogging Personality?

Tagging you to take take the quiz too!: Heather, CMHL, J*, Jack, Jenelle, M, Melanie, Neil, Networkchic, Suley, The Gr8 Saphenous.

Dipping my toe in political waters...

2006-02-07T08:38:00.000Z

Just been to Neil's where his "conciliatory parade" to my comment was "pissed on". He has absolutely no right to take offence or feel outraged or angry at being pissed on. Absolutely not, SHE has the right conferred on her by freedom of speech to piss on him and his "conciliatory parade".

I frankly had absolutely no intention of posting on this issue. Call me whatever you feel like but I just CANNOT STAND ARGUMENTS. Specially sterile arguments. I believe that by definition arguments are sterile, no one listens to no one and every one hears whatever they wish to hear. So, for those who believe that the protestors should have acted in a mature way, which is easier said that done, how do you make yourself heard when they're entangled in their emotions.

This whole situation just shows how fragile we are. How easily we respond to provocation, whether it was meant as such or not. Don't go playing with my heart, you'd be closing the door to any rational discourse.

Put the "radicals and terrorists" who use Islam to justify their deeds aside for a minute. Let's have a face à face, you and I, the "rational Muslim". I am against violence, I condemn terrorism. How am I supposed to FEEL when watching TV I hear about these cartoons of the Prophet and see a cartoon showing him with a bomb in his turban? I was appalled, angry, I felt guilty for believing in a Freedom which led to this.

I've read a lot about whether the Danish Government is going to "cave in" or not to the demands of apology. Is this all what it comes to?

Dr. Tariq Ramadan is right when he says, in the Herald Tribune, that just because you have the right to do something doesn't mean you have to do it. That's what's called civic responsibility, he says. Jack, that's what i meant when i said: "This whole situation is tragic, more so, since it could have been avoided so easily."

Thought of the Day

2006-02-06T21:14:00.000Z

"All love that has not friendship for its base, is like a mansion built upon sand."
Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Your comments

2006-02-06T11:17:00.000Z

I feel the need here to post your comments on the previous post.

Networkchic said...
It is unfortunate that we live in a world that needs to be slapped in the face with images of poverty and despair before we lift our hands and our hearts to help make it better. We get so caught up in our own lives that we leave so little room for other things that seemingly have nothing to do with us. But we're wrong aren't we, it has everything to do with us. I know that I'm going to teach my own daughter to be aware of those around her, not just what's right in front of her, but everywhere - even if she can't see it. Let's hope that our children grow up to be more compassionate human beings.
Heather said...
Fitena, you have hit on a soft spot for me. I do not--or well I should say i am ashamed of the inaction of our big fat rich united states ass when it come to the crises of Africa. My crisis of the day are the children of Uganda and Sudan who are kidnapped by the Lord's Resistance Army and then through fear are made to serve as child soldiers.Thing is, If I was in the White House today, I don't know a thing that ought to be done. We always send money, but it's as though the problem lies in the seed of corruption that exists in the bureacratic powers. I can't bear human misery, it weighs on my heart as a mom. I have a child and perhaps I haven't realized that I can't save all children from those who would hurt them. I think that these thoughts sound terribly trite, so I don't like to mention them. But babies in a state of utter starvation, or forced into combat by watching their peers slaughtered as examples of what might happen to them just makes no sense to me in this world.Like the commenter before me, I want so much to teach Adeline to always be looking out for those who deserve her compassion. Whether it's an old person left to die or it's a person on the street who needs a hand up. I can't save the babies in Niger. But if we all did just what simple things we could to protest, rather than thinking merely about our own lives every minute of the day, maybe something in the world would change.
M said...
My friend just got back from working in Niger for five months. She was working in these villages out in the middle of nowhere. The stories she's come back with are incredible. She's itching to finish up her degree and go back... I'm so happy to know some of the people I know.
Jaedns said...
Providing aid is not a permanent solution, those people must be taught to become independent and productive or at least semi self-sufficient. Otherwise even the next generation would still depend on external help.

Thank you for your comments and I am with you about the fact that it's not financial help ONLY we're talking about here. Emma Thompson, on Canal+ said that she believes that the help MUST involve you personally. "Engagement" is the french term she used. Concretely, it's all about giving the lesser fortunate the means to come out of their misery and accompanying them on the road to autonomy. But then, it's also all about caring, it's all all about compassion its all about humanity.

"It is when you give of yourself that you truly give."

Ci vediamo, when the next disaster strikes....

2006-01-30T11:50:00.000Z

Remember the crisis which hit Niger a while ago? Remember how around the month of July Niger was all over the news and how we started collecting funds and sending aid these poor people’s way? My question is why did we wait till around July to do something? Why did we have to wait till the situation got that bad? Why do we always procrastinate?

Niger received in ten days more that any aid it received during the whole 7 months which preceded all the media coverage. Thanks to the BBC which run shots of children with blotted bellies, mothers looking grief stricken, fathers desolately looking at nothing but dry land. That’s when I heard about the crisis. Though, the ONU did make an appeal for help since the month of February 2005. And the most incredible fact is that Niger's leaders where denying the hunger claims!

Its incredible but the impression I get that events have to have an “In” quality to them in order to attract our attention. They have to be tragic, they have to be bad. Failing to fill these conditions will inevitably make them unworthy of our attention. You see, this famine problem still persists in Niger today. There is an ongoing ongoing and rapidly emerging hunger emergency in Ethiopia, Mali, Malawi, Mozambique, Zimbabwe. I am yet to read or hear about them. They need help. They need food. They need an "active compassion". This is a long term situation we’re talking about. This is no “In” situation. But heck, who cares, they aren’t talking about it on the news or the papers so it can’t be that bad, right? Till the next disaster strikes.

miniquest.

2006-01-27T05:34:00.000Z

What makes you smile/laugh?
How would you define your kind of humour?
Do you consider yourself a happy person? Why?

Food for Thought

2006-01-26T15:32:00.000Z

"Pleasure in the job puts perfection in the work." -Aristotle

Driving Test

2006-01-17T11:48:00.000Z

Do you ever notice that when you're driving, anyone going slower than you is an idiot and anyone going faster is a maniac?

I think I saw Beauty

2006-01-13T11:34:00.000Z

I watched "On a tout Essayer" day before yesterday. It's a French show where half a dozen animators discuss current events, politics, new releases etc... It's pretty lively and the banter if full of joke-disguised-truths.

A new author was invited on the show to present her book. Her first one. She'd been sick, discovered Buddhism and decided to share the experience in writing.

Stevie, one of the animators, the one who never has anything listening-worthy to say said the most incredible thing. Incredible in the sense that I wouldn't have thought him capable to coming up with such a point of view. He commented about how down he'd felt after reading the book. Not the whole book, parts of it.

The author writes about how insignificant we are in the face of the whole creation. How absolutamentously nothing we are in the whole universe. Stevie said that he'd never felt as down as when he'd realised the nothinghness of himself. He and his cousins sat and pondered over this fact which had never crossed their minds before and with sagging bodies, they separated and nothing more was added. He said thanks but no thanks to the author for spoiling his day. The audience laughed, his fellow animators congratulated him on the very profound comment.

Somehow, I thought of Kahlil Gibran's lines

"You would know in words that which you have always known in thought"

Two or Three months ago, with my sisters and our friend M, I had gone to visit Mauritius tiny cousin called "L'Ile au Cerfs". It was grand. We had a real good time. That's not what I want to talk about here. I had never para-sailed before. This was a not-to-be-missed occasion.

I flew. I soared. I went so high. I was so blissfully happy. I was uncomprehendingly sad. Mixed emotions. Hard to understand. Here I was, flying, grinning from ear to ear, thinking that it was a pity that no birds were about, flying with me, alone, I should have been just happy.

I looked down at the sea, she looked green. Beautiful green. Rocks and I don't know what else looking black under her. I noted the contrast between the opacity of the rocks and the transparent limpidity of the water.

I looked up at the sky. Regret for not being high enough to brush the clouds filled my heart. I thought I saw an elephant there, a pink blue elephant. This made me giggle, the Child in me and me winked at each other. The Sun was blindingly bright. I didn't dare stare.

In the distance, I could see speed boats. Tourists or locals? I asked myself. It didn't matter and the thought didn't last long. I took a deep breath. It felt like my first breath. So pure, so thick, so lung filling. I looked down again and was surprised to realise that I felt like crying. I wanted to cry. I wondered what it would feel like to have the sea enveloping me. I don't swim. Yeah, shame on me. Living on an Island at that. At this precise moment, the fear of the sea deserted me. The boat I was tied to slowed down. I came down slow. I wasn't scared. I felt I was watching myself descending. The coldness of the water caught me by surprise. I strained to soak my feet. The water splashed over my legs. I had a little of it over my face and my spectacles got wet. I took them off and furiously dried the water on my t-shirt. I wanted to see it all. To take it all in. this immensity. The greenness of the sea and the blueness of the sky. I tasted salt on my lips. Tears or sea water? The greatness of my surrounding just overwhelmed me. I felt so small, so insignificant; I marvelled and basked into the beauty of His creation and thought to myself:

“And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy.
It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth,
But rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted.
It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear,
But rather an image you see though you close your eyes and a song you hear though you shut your ears.
It is not the sap within the furrowed bark, nor a wing attached to a claw,
But rather a garden for ever in bloom and a flock of angels for ever flight.”

“Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.”

Movies? Gimme a Break.... (new edition)

2006-01-06T06:33:00.000Z

This is a post from my old home. Reposted yes, but with good reason. I went to a conference where the speaker said something about Bollywood being a complexed version of Hollywood. So true. At least where today movies are concerned. I live in this island in the Indian Ocean called Mauritius, remember. We're very up to date where Bollywood is concerned. Am appalled by the movie posters. Where are the sarees gone? Where is the decency gone? Where are the good poster makers gone? We used to make fun of the old posters. I remember when I was a kid in Niger, how we used to make fun of the same posters and movies I long for now. They are scarce now, the good movies.

Good movies? No wonder they don't make them good anymore. The movies I consider good apparently do not appeal to the general public, not in Mauritius nor in India. I am told that its hard enough living in misery to have to watch this same misery depicted in movies. People want movies which make them dream, make them forget the reality they're living in. For a few hours.

Chandi Bar is the name of a movie I particularly appreciated. Good. Real good. The story of every woman, black, white, yellow. Every woman who circumstances forced into prostitution. Yes, forced. The story of an orphaned girl whose uncle abused then “entrusted” to a pimp. One of her clients marries her. She now has a decent life. The husband gets killed in a mafia affair. She has two children to feed and raise. Life turns its back on her. Her son gets implicated into a crime. She has to bail him out. No money. She goes back to prostitution. Her daughter overhears and decides she'd help. Sells her virginity to the highest bidder. Meanwhile the son gets raped into jail. The mother and daughter finally bail him out. But he's broken. He kills those who raped him. Back to prison again. The movie ends with the image of this mother who tried but couldn't get out of this vicious circle. That's what I call a good movie. It was a flop at the box office in India. It was rated “18 years” here.

Dil Se is another movie which was a flop at the box office.

Why? I wonder!!!

Lagaan's , starring Gracy Singh and Amir Khan (see picture) surprised me by its success. Its such a down to earth movie and it wasn't shot in Switzerland. It's music (#1, #2, #3, #4, #5, #6) is great (see picture)!

Back to today's movies. They just flabbergast me. I mean, you'd think. They are so.... words fail me but I'll give you a couple of examples:

- Make up: You have the hero (there's always a hero) who's playing a double role. He's the father as well as the son. Normally, you'd need a good deal of make up to make the young hero look older. Just a little bit. But noooooooh, noooooooooh, noooooooooh, the "maquilleur" is a very smart guy. He learned the art of making up from the masters. You only need one single thing to make the guy look credibly old. Guess what? A single line of gray strands of hair. Preferably located in perfectly visible position. The guy with her perfectly wrinkleless skin, straight bearing, bright smile, sure takes a couple of years less? more? ... huh... he looks .... huh.... never mind!

- Dress code: There is no dress code. The hero and the heroin are dancing and singing in the snow in Switzerland. She's wearing a saree (that was a couple of years ago), a mini skirt with a trunk top and high heels (this is nowadays, modernism and all). He's wearing (lucky man) a leather long jacket, jeans, boots, preferably all in black with the sunglasses.
They go to bed. He's wearing pajamas. Sensible hero. She's wearing a whole jewelry shops worth of jewels. Her face is painted in rainbow colors with the fake eyelashes, her hair beautifully coiffed. La totale!

- The stunts: they look like when my siblings and I and our friends in Niger used to play gangsters and cops when we were kids. You actually get to watch some beautifully remote controlled actions. Like a car exploding and going high. high, high in the sky before hitting the car in front and after which it was then supposed to explode and go high, high, high (they're good at making cars flying!) in the sky. So it goes like: car approaching at full speed (one of the bad guys driving of course), hero maneuvering his car masterfully so that another car is in the way. Bad guy's car is going to collide into moved-in-the way-other-car. Four seconds before it'll actually collide it explodes and does the flying stuff. It comes back down in slow motion. Camera zooms on both cars: the was-in-the-way (perfectly intact at this point, not a scratch) and the coming down car with the bad guy barbecued. Just then the perfectly perfect car which was in the way and which is stupidly still stationed explodes too. Then the ad guy's car finally hits ground and the other car. Bravo!!!!

- The Bad guys: The Leader is normally the girl's father. He does not approve of this guy (the hero is poor of course and she is rich). He sends his goons to fix the guy. But the guy is the hero. He dies not. The goons actually resurrect on spot. You just saw this guy going down clawing at his pistol shot chest and the next thing you know he's back on the ring! They are good, the directors!

- The dying: They always get to tell you all the secrets before they die. They even get to sing a 6 minutes long song before the poor shot guy gets to go to lalala land! And here, I must not fail to tell you about the inevitable operation theaters. It's always a scene with our guy or one of his buddies or relatives - because they are the one's who get to go to hospitals, the bad guys aren't that lucky, they just die. Anyway, one of these lucky people gets run down by a car. You see the doctors operating on his stomach, chest, leg. He gets hit by a baseball bat, no excuse me, its a cricket bad here, on his head. The doctors are shown operating on his stomach, chest, leg, anywhere but the head. After the operation you see the guy with a bandaged head a a little tiny bit of dark red, meant to be the blood, staining the white white bandage on the left hand side of the forehead if the hero is right handed and vice versa, so he can wince and bring his head to point of pain to convince himself that he's convincing us that he's actually in pain. He perpetually arbors a stamp of disapproval (black eye) to show how much beating he's taking in order to win his girl. The stamp does not appear into the dance scenes but comes back with a vengeance when the dance is over. The hero never dies. If he dies the heroin has to commit suicide or become mad.

- The dancing: bump and grind. Preferably in the rain. Hero running about looking at flowers, admiring the beauty of the universe. Heroin throwing herself at his feet. Hiding behind trees. Batting eyelashes. Hero beating his chest, his heart to express his love. Throwing his arms open wide. Heroin just in cue, runs forward and hugs him. They hug. He's going to kiss her but then she's all coy and turns her head so he bits her ear lobe instead and she runs to hide behind a tree and peeps out at him! Hurray!

At least I have no complaint today about the movies. They got me writing my longest post. Am not even mad at this Indian serial which generic song I actually chronometer ed : it was (the honest truth) 2:35 minutes.
And they lived happily ever after!

*C'est La Vie! Life!*

Good Trap

Grounded

Dear Muhammad

Nuts

House

Language

Facebook

Interviewing a Diamond

Rumours

English v/s French

Taxi and Woro Woro

The Look!!!!

Le Retour # 2

Le Retour # 1

Departure

Climate-ology

A Star!

Sick

Men do come from Mars and Women from Venus

Men come from... and women....

Carnival of the Mundane

I am Happy... Lala...

Christmas Time

Strength

You are Strength

A Toaster Story

Thank Your First Commenter Day # 2

Lonely # 3

Lonely # 2

Lonely #1

Infidelity

Days (and nights) spoiling thoughts

Divali

World Food (Every) Day

Dear Mum,

A bird in the head

Trade in time

Blog Appreciation Day

Romance?

Broken

That's the Question?

Robbed

Dodo

Thought of the Day

All in a School Day

The Fiancé who is eating my friend

Blogging Again

5 Philosophical Questions

Chocolate

Gonna Be a Bear

A, B, C

Tomatoes

Trapped

Why love is Blind

Me, Reading and I

The Arrival

Overheard

Cooking, marriages and Mauritius....

Reminiscing

The Key to Failure

Neighbors

Talking to Toi-Même

Two in One

...volution

Pensée

Ugly

Law and Humour

We wont' repeat it enough....

Person's Story

Blogging for a while

He loves me, I love you not anymore

Money, Money, Money, must be funny....

A Ball Story

Allô

Flesh Remembrances

Come again!

Don't worry, be crazy

PCing

Akuna Matata

C'est La Vie! Life!