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The last 2 years

Two years ago today, I instagram'd the moment I walked into my first retrenchment (I didn't know at the time)

Last year today after being told I did an amazing job, I was asked to leave for not being a cultural fit.
Hijab wearing muslim working for company who predominantly sold hard liquor, yeah I figured
But I took the job because I had no other means of income.

Its not lost on me, but I can't tell you what retrenchments does to your psyche, your confidence, your ability to say with certainty. I KNOW HOW TO DO MY JOB

Between friends who gave generously of their time:

my lawyer friend who helped me negotiate a package, my social media friend who gave me some part time work to tide me over, to the friend who gave me a home so I wouldn't have to worry about paying rent. To the friend and her family who opened their home and fed me all of you who helped me and helped me maintain a semblance of dignity. for those friends who made me cry and reminded me that I have a tribe …
Recent posts

shaking old memories lose

Last week, the ghadat opened a memory box that I had almost forgotten. While its made me pretty sad, I can't help and marvel at how far I have come.

The memory box was a little sketchy, in that it plays bits and pieces that overlap and blur and still cut like knives.

So poor.

When I tell people that I grew up poor and still have that mentality, I don't think they understood. Not that I ever explained it.

But after my dad has his toe amputated for gangrene. we didn't have much money. I remember exchanging cool drink bottles for cash for veggies to cook.

So poor, that when I was in agony because of teeth issues, the thing I remember was it was cheaper to extract than fix (fix meant multiple visits - that we couldn't afford.)

So poor that I cleaned my cousins house for money (she was a year younger than me)

look at me, Ms Digital Marketer with her own car, and poor person metality and look at how far you've come.

I never want to forget again.

I remain under a dark clou…

Gadat, Memories and Wishes

Last night was a tough, beautiful night.

I am attending ISR2018 International Spiritual Retreat in Macassar Cape Town hosted by the Mahabbah Foundation.
And last night marked the start of the retreat itself. And as per tradition, we have a Mass Ratibul Hadad locally known as a Gadat,which was so beautifully heartchingly recited.

I come from Johannesburg, and much to peoples surprise here in Cape Town. I grew up with it, literally, my father had his own Jamaah and there isn't a memory of mine, where gadat didn't feature.

Sundays and Thursdays were almost always for gadats, (which when all you wanted to do, was watch some TV and chill) but we did it.

The recitation last night was like a kick in the gut. It created such a sense of longing of my father and my mother who have passed away. Using the same lagoo (melody) I closed my eyes and pictured my father and uncles sitting in the lounge facing the congregation and leading us while we jikr'd with rhythm.

My childhood is pierc…

Dreamlifes Quiz

So while I have been on a downer of note these last few months.
Dreamlife asked me to complete the questionnaire below



1. Why did you start your blog and does it fulfill that purpose.

I wanted to have a voice online, specifically because finding someone I could relate to was so hard. In hopes that someone else stuck between things would find something they could relate to.

I don't know if it fulfills that purposed anymore, and more just a soap box that I can let things out.



2. Whats your favourite post of all time. (your own work please)
http://aasiaf.blogspot.co.za/2012/06/lifes-work-and-ambition.html
a reminder of who I wanted to be.

3. If you could meet 3 people living or dead who would they be.

- My great great great great grandfather on my dads side, An Afghani pathan who found himself in SA and kidnap a norwegian woman and made her his wife. - I need the full story

- Then my  great grandfather mom side, who was an off the boat indian from Surat who took a khoi second wife, th…

Adversity and Adversary

No matter how much I overcome,
or how much I endure

There always seems to be more venom
than there is a cure

I can't keep at it, this continuous struggle that's not real, but my reality
No matter how many of my demons I slay,
I have to fight and fight
new foes, new days.

Ya Allah, why is the first thing that leaves me, is my faith?
Why is that the hard part.

People who usually talk about Tawakkul, don't know anything about
the trouble and struggle of what it is.

What world is it, that we will live in, that allows people to play with others fate
Who don't have the emotional maturity to look for context.
To hate me because Im a misfit.(misfit is the excuse)
Maybe because Im not thin. or don't belong to the same clubs
Or maybe you just don't like a large brown woman telling you what to do.

Maybe you're the douche bag, but now it's me who must fight,
I don't WANT to, but I will HAVE to

What the F**k just happened?

I'm actually so hesitant to post this because I know some people will want more than I am prepared to give, say or do.

But I can't be silent not so much about whats happened, but what I discovered about myself in the process.

The thing that happened:
I usually offer my services in digital marketing for free for fundraisers and people who do community work. So when a local religious (sheigh) leader asked to meet me to discuss a project. I thought nothing of it. I've met with plenty of them to know how to conduct myself.

Side Note: as someone who has recently embraced Hijab, I understand there is additional scrutiny on how I conduct myself in muslim restaurants, especially with local scholars/leaders

Flag 1: said sheigh pitched up in casual clothes and I could smell the cologne on him and could see he had recently shaved and groomed. This made me nervous because the first thing he remarked on was how pretty I was.

Flag 2: he kept asking me, how long I was prepared to stay there …

TBST

The beautiful scary thing is hidden away. Its sheer power to change who I am frightens me and gives me bravado to be myself, unapologetically.

Every time I want to take this beautiful scary thing out and show it to the world, I know the world and I are just not ready.

So back into the deep dark recess I keep you there, the beautiful scary thing, where I will visit you often and shine a bright light on you and love you and nurture you.

That's when I realise, its not my job to present the beautiful scary thing to the world. That is for itself to decide. So I sit here waiting in anticipation for that day to come and I can announce to the world.

I have loved you, beautiful scary thing, from the day I met you.