IMAAN ON ICE

Possible meetings 2

2008-04-22T22:03:00.003+02:00

Catholic nuns taking a tour of the Stockholm mosque at Medborgarplatsen

April 2008

(For fun; guess who's a nun and who's a hidjabi)

Possible meetings

2008-04-06T12:53:00.003+02:00

Lisa Goldman giving a talk to members of Working Sisters,

Stockholm 30 March 2008

A kick in the butt

2008-03-08T12:43:00.003+01:00

... is well overdue. But we have a saying in my language that would translate something like this; shame on the one who gives up.

I've got a few comments here and there and I really truly appriciate it! Idon't know how to put it but it's just too complicated in my world. Maybe one day I will be able to tell.

Please be careful. It's a war out there. Miss you.

Love //Imaan

I'm gonna be a...

2007-09-01T19:02:00.000+02:00

... teacher!

Hopefully!

Tomorrow I have my first lecture at Södertörn University, in south of Stockholm. My first lecture in becomming a teacher for age 1-9, with an intercultural profile.

I'm already deep into my books, but I will try to be here as often as possible. Send some positive academical thoughts my way.

Miss you all.

The wedding

2007-08-24T12:09:00.000+02:00

Inside the church

You may kiss the bride!

Outside the church

Beautiful mother of the bride

Me walking up to the weddingparty

The couple arriving by boat

Cheers!

The beautiful location on the west coast

The wedding dinner is served

The wedding walz

The cutting of the cake

Spending summer

2007-07-31T13:20:00.000+02:00

As I mentioned I am spending summer with my kids at my parent's house. It is of course great for the kids to be around their grandparents (who spoil them terribly) and the fact that they live in a small town-villa with a garden makes it even more of a needed change for an apartment family from the capital. Their town is located on the west coast, with many wonderful excursions and stuff to do nearby.

Yesterday was spent at my grandparent's summerhouse in the upper west coast, close to the border of Norway. My grandfather turned 74 so some family were there to wish him a happy birthday (I'll try to update with photos within short).

You know, I have a kind and somewhat open minded family, so they're at their best behaviour in trying to deal with me as they always have, even though I became a muslim (11 years ago) and left behind some of their ways and values. I consider myself very much the same person, but at the very least, I look different (with my hidjab i mean). Yesterday however was a close family thing so I got to wear and look like them for the evening. Not that I mind my hidjab, but I have come to realize just how much energy goes to being different. Always.

Another family event, my dear cousins wedding, is another big reminder for me of just how different i FEEL (I am not sure i really AM that different, but...). A church wedding is all about Swedish manners and traditions, and I'm finding it a bit hard to comply. I don't think that has so much to do with my religion as it has to do with my character. Dress code simply bugs me. My children not being invited kills me. Never the less I have to be there, cause I love her, so I guess I have to get over it.

My husband arrived this morning by surprise. For days I've been bugging him about when he's coming and he kept saying there's no tickets (I took the car). Until this morning he stood outside the door and the kids went crazy (they didn't see him for 1 ½ months). It makes me feel much better to have him beside me "against" all what everyone else take for granted, and I don't, but at the same time me and him are from two different cultures and loyal readers know I don't always comply there either.

And it leaves me with a huge empty feeling of not belonging anywhere. And my process, part of why I've been gone for some time, is accepting that place in between as my own.

To whom it may concern

2007-07-23T19:01:00.000+02:00

Is there anyone out there................

No wonder, since I haven't been in here. I question everything. Sometimes I wonder if this blog should actually be about the difficulties of maintaining a blog. That would surely be a hit.

Now, the truth about why I haven't been blogging for a while is personal, but never the less it brings me back to the difficulties of being a blogger. As I have discussed before, depending on what kind of person you are and depending on what kind of blog you host, there is an unclear line between what you can blog about and not. Going undercover would help, but it's too boring. Going completely open would surely help, but then I'm too booring. So for now, I'm left here in between and that is what's causing my moments of temporary insanity.

So, it's been a while. At the moment I'm at my parents house with my kids, enjoying our summer holliday. Sunny days could be counted on only one hand, but that suits me just fine since I'm studying a course in Socialanthropology, that I couldn't complete while ramadan in Gaza (2005, for beginners). It's funny how my stay in Gaza follow me around. I guess since I haven't dealt with it completely. I was reading my notes and on the left side of a paper had I written "19 October, first raindrop". That of course brought me back. And i remember that it was actually just a few raindrops, not a complete rainfall. And I remeber that my son, Ibrahim and his classmates, was let out of class to stand on the schoolyard and enjoy in the rain, when later on the first rainfall actually did come.

I'll do my best to be a better blogger from now on....

UPDATE: It all makes sense now; while blogging around I just found this lines so worthy of notice, regarding to what I just had been on about here above...

"Being a good writer is 3% talent, 97% not being distracted by the Internet."

A little full circle moment, since just "blogging around" (as in being somewhat distracted by the Internet...) was just what I was doing... Me being a "bad" blogger could have its explanation in just the fact that a blogger per definition is someone who spends an awful lot of time on the Internet.

(Can you tell I'm into Socialanthropology and stuff like questioning analytic dichotomies at the moment - I'm full of arguing against what we once took for granted lol)

Out of love...

2007-04-30T10:47:00.000+02:00

I have temporarily fallen out of love with blogging. Only temporarily though, I know real life will slap me in the face soon enough and I will come crying back here ha ha. Spring always does this to me. To not keep you totally bored I thought I'd offer ya'll a true story, a true FUNNY story. I don't know if it's me turning 30 + and wanting to convince myself of my good looks (yeah yeah yeah) or just plain good sense of humour that's making me do this, but here it goes...

I was on my way home, and had a walk through the park and passing a school. Some school kids (like 18-19 years old) were hanging out and when I passed by (mind you, in my hidjab and jilbab) one of the guys turned his head after me and bursted out;

-Mmmm, halal meat!

That still puts a smile on my face til this day.

Imaan is talking

2007-04-11T00:10:00.001+02:00

I would have prefered to write this post in my mother language, but IN SHORT; this is what I've been up to. A few months back I was part of a studie led by ms.Tina at "Gränslös Vänskap", Friendship without Limits, (I will have to update with all the links later inshaAllah) who dealt with ethnic Swedish Muslims being discriminated (or not) at work. It's all part of an EU-project and now she invited me to talk at a seminar called "Omedvetna Fördomar", Prejudices we're unaware of, also an EU-project designed to educate company leaders and high positioned staff. When ms.Tina invited me to talk with her I thought it would be more like a meeting between a few people (like 5-10) around a table, and was somewhat chocked when I came inside this room... (and this photo is taken at lunch time,people)!

People returning back after lunch

She spoke about her result of her studie (based on around 15 interviews with Swedish converts to islam) and I about my experiences of working with hidjab. The theme of the whole seminar was kind off diversity pays off, and I wanted to point out the advantages I have as a bridge between Swedish and Muslim culture.

Other speakers was for example Gary Baker, diversity consultant (yes, there is such a thing), Randy Lowe, Senior Vice President of Union Bank, San Francisco US of A, Ivan Daza, founder of Blatteförmedlingen (kom gärna med förslag om hur i sjutton gubbar jag ska översätta det?!), an alternative employment office for immigrants, Ann Marie Lamb, HR at SEBank and Ann Fagraeus, in charge of the project.

I found it very successful. It was so interesting and inspiring. And the best part was the meetings that happened in between. People coming up to me starting conversations and asking questions (I even had a few business cards, proud to say). I was the last person to finish my lunch, let me tell you, because I had to tell (on demand) the all inclusive story of why, how and when I became a Muslim, to the (lucky/unlucky) people sitting beside me.

Me, ms. Tina and Ann Fagraeus

I was also lucky to "steal" a place at a seminar for people in the business of Law, which my cousin attended and she waved her pretty eye lashes at the in charge and I was in (or something like that). The theme was Honour killings and she thought it would be interesting for us to go together (and she was right, not to mention that we had a chance to eat lunch together and have a long cup of coffee afterwards. She live in another city so we don't get to see each other that often). The seminar was led by two of Sweden's most well known islamologists.

Me after the seminar, photo by my cousin.

You know you're addicted to blogging... TOP5

2007-04-11T00:10:00.000+02:00

1 ...when you speak to your close friend about an event you attended a few weeks back like she knew about it, and she goes "...but you didn't tell me about that?" and you go "Oh, you didn't read my blog??!"

2 ...when you make silly comments on other peoples blogs, like "Great blog!!" or "Very interesting!!" just so they will click on the link and read YOUR blog.

3 ...when you've had a wonderful day or interesting meeting and then, instead of smiling happily to yourself and going "Oh, that will make a nice memory!" you go "Oh, that will make a great blog post!"

4 ...when in the evening while watching 24 you get up from the sofa, just to check who and what that "plingpling" in your inbox was, even though you were totally being a complete vegetable. Because it could very well be a Comments Moderation Mission, people.

5 ... when you've turned out all the lights late at night and you know you should have slept since long time and the only thing that's keeping you and your bed apart is the Turn Off Computer-button. Yet, just as the computer turns black and white, you press Cancel just 'cause you had a new idea for a GREAT blog post (like I did just now).

Well, in the name of blogging - good night to all of you.

Spring is here!

2007-04-04T16:27:00.000+02:00

Lovely Hepatica

The past two weeks have been very busy for me. I've been up to lot's of fun and really interesting stuff, which should come up on the blog as soon as possible inshaAllah. For now, you will have to make do with some "A day in the Forest"-photos. I'm in my parent's hometown since the kids have a spring-break from school. We're enjoying lovely weather as spring finally arrived big time. I love this time of year.

So, this is to everyone who don't have a forest like this to walk in...

Cool girls

Forest view

This is what we Swedes call "eating out"

Oh, how beautiful

My kids

Bildt meets Abbas

2007-03-25T23:48:00.000+02:00

Proudly presenting to you; Foreign Minister of Sweden Mr Carl Bildt (here's his blog in swedish - in which he links to english sites - and here in english). Today he met up with palestinian president Mr Mahmoud Abbas (and here's his blog - only kidding!) and told him that the new palstinian unity government might have stopped a otherwise possible civil war and that the palestinians, although distress and violence, have the Arabworlds most democratic society.

"-This democracy is a fragile flower in this degree of latitude and it's our mission to water it."

he said (which very well may be the most poetic phrase a swedsih politician uttered in a very long time). However, it's no coincidence that he met with a Fatah minister and not a Hamas minister. Earlier he also met Hanan Ashrawi for a hotel breakfast in Ramallah, in where they both said that the position of Hamas is a reality and should be dealt with accordingly.

After Bildt left that afternoon, Mrs Condoleezza Rice came. We all know it wasn't, but one can always hope that wasn't a coincidence either. He he.

UPDATE; I simply have to translate a part from Bildts (he's actually funny) blog "Alla dess dagar - All these days";

In the Holy Land, mars 24th, 2007

Yes, there's actually a wireless net working just fine also here in Grand Park Hotel in Ramallah.

The hotel describes itself as a living legend in the Holy Land. Well now...

I was actually surprised when I realized that it was four years ago since a swedish Minister of Foreign Affairs visited Israel and the palestinian territories (the government he is a part of was elected in Sep 2006).

A bit odd considering the interest we should have in a development here.

I landed in Tel Aviv and was very well welcomed by the israeli protokoll. However it seemed that the nation otherwise was absorbed by a fotballgame with England, that later ended in a draw. Continue reading here.

A name...

2007-03-23T23:07:00.000+01:00

I "spoke" (msn-messenger!!) with a friend from Gaza the other day, just after the new palestinian unity government was founded, asking her what she thought about it. We sighed over the internet to the sometimes seemingly hopeless situation. As for the big picture, what do you think, I asked, a one state- or a two state-solution? She answered;

"One. For Jews, Muslims and Christians."

Ok, I said, but then what would you name it? Of course refering to the much more complicated story of who would run it. I was expecting either "Palestine, of course!" or "It would be more practical to keep Israel" or anything like that. There was silence for a while... and then the msn showed that she was typing again...

"The Promised Land."

(My name suggestion was on a much much more silly level; "Paelestine", using the AEL from Israel. Laugh at it, please.)

When the girl won't come to Palestine, Palestine will come to the girl

2007-03-19T22:15:00.000+01:00

D.A.M. in Södra Teatern, Stockholm 16th March 2007

There should be something wrong with the PR of D.A.M. - the great palestinian hip hop group - when I heard the news of their concert in Stockholm, Sweden, from... Tel Aviv!

For an old B-girl like myself (yes, it's true) it was of course love at first sight; hip hop and rap, arabic and Middle Eastern melodies and a palestinian passionate freedom message - ALL IN ONE! Oh, can it get any better? Yes; on stage, live!

Now, the struggles of a old (well, I'm at least not 18 anymore!!) hidjabi mother of three to come to that concert... I tell ya. First mission: find a co B-girl. Impossible, but friend of 14 years, miss C (who later on, upon arriving home after the show, when her husband asked her "So, was the concert any good?" would reply with a painful silence) would do. Second mission: getting rid of my children. Collecting a favour from another old friend, all three of them where to sleep over at her place. Our children love each other. Third mission: convince husband. "Darling, I'm gonna go visit miss C on friday and we'll go the see a palestinian musicgroup who sings about palestinian freedom, at a theatre, ok habibi?" Sounds cultural, right!? "Ok, yes, sure". Mission accomplished. After a schedule worthy of a prime minister (11.45 Bake bread 12.15 Vacuum 12.20 Hang clothes 12.30 Wash dishes 12.45 Pack bags for sleepover 12.55 Leave home 13.00 Bring the girls from kindergarten 13.20 Bring son from school 13.30 Leave children at friends house... and son on. I also had a doctor's appointment that afternoon).

Oh, I'm going on and on. You don't wanna know that! You want to know about D.A.M.! Well, soon me and miss C were on the way. Before leaving we looked at each other, shaking our heads, saying "Gosh, we're too old for this!" Turns out, upon arriving, that we were far from the oldest, thank you very much. Some other hidjabi girls there too, great.

When the show finally started, they had a big screen TV showing various parts of palestinian life together with some poetical powerful lyrics. Went straight into my heart. And I had trouble standig up straight for a while (told you I was old!). For me it was a moment of full circle.

"ad-D.A.M. ja'een...!"
crowd going "As-Salamu Aleykum!"
"... min Falasteen!"
crowd going "As-Salamu Aleykum!"
(The D.A.M. are coming... Peace be upon you!... from Palestine... Peace be upon you!)

Here's what I liked most about them; they were passionate! Far too many times I've witnessed apathy and hopelessness in the eyes of palestinians. Here on stage was pure passion. They are skilled. Apart from having a message and a coldmine to pour from (you need to be angry if you're gonna be good at hip hop in my humble opinion), they are skilled with lyrics, rhymes and melodies. And last but not least, they were down to earth. Spoke heartfelt and honest to the audience. The only, only thing I would remove was the F*** word (I told you I was too OLD!!).

Signed and all

After the concert I of course had to buy their new CD and was lucky to have it signed and exchange a few words with them. I said silly things like "The show was geat!" and bla bla, I even said it in english, why when I could have said it in arabic to impress a bit? Ah well.

My husband came to drive us home. "How was it?" he said. I gave him the CD to put it on in the car. My husband is 12 years older than me and part of another generation, so I had no hopes. Upon hearing he said "Oh, they sound like american groups!" with a big smile on his face, thinking that he was actually smart to know that and point that out. I rolled my eyes and said "Yes, habibi, that's right. It's called H I P H O P, habibi".

After having dropped me off at home he had to go back to work I asked him to give me the CD. To my surprise he said "La la la, khaliha! - No no no, I'll keep it!" Not too old after all. None of us. Pure blogotherapy.

How to be an updated Swede

2007-03-16T09:55:00.000+01:00

Zaynar Adami on my TV yesterday

1981 Zaynar Adami was born in Iran to kurdish parents. Five years later his family came to live in Sweden. Thank you God for that.

2004 he started the magazine Gringo, then and still a supplement to the free Metro magazine, designed to bring nuance to media's image of life in the suburbs and its inhabitants. With humour, love and optimism he brought Gringo to a huge success and received Sweden's Journalist prize 2005 for "Innovator of the year". Today, his company Latifeh AB (named after his mother), have 17 employees from 15 different countries. Half are men, half are women.

This day he gave a speech at a Swedbank's seminar, broad casted on national TV, with the clear message that diversity pays off. He had the one thousand swedish suits all pronounce his name. "Let's say it together; Z a y n a r!". The whole world is a market, and the immigrants are not part of the problem, but part of the solution, he says.

And what is a Swede anyway? A blond,
tall and blue-eyed guy? Just look to the society as a whole! Me and my staff might
be from 15 different countries, but we have one thing in common; we're all swedish,
says Adami.

Sweden needs to update what it means to be swedish. We (Swedes) are few and the world is global today. Ask not how we can integrate the immigrants in Sweden, but how the immigrants can integrate us in the world, he says.

Love this guy.

50th Wedding Anniversary

2007-03-11T15:36:00.000+01:00

Friday 9th of March 2007 was the 50th Wedding Anniversay of my grandparents, on my mother's side. Their life- and lovestory is pretty amazing and I'll be sure to write about it one day. For now I just want to say "Happy Anniversary!".

A Palestinian wedding in Sweden

2007-03-08T22:12:00.000+01:00

This wonderful photo was sent to me by a friend, who attended this beautiful wedding of Kholod, 21, and Mohamed, 24. It captures the great atmosphere of a palestinian wedding. Happy saghrouting clapping audience, a proud bridegroome, a beautiful bride in white, and last but not least, a big old videocamera in their face.

My friend said to make sure I wrote that there was so much love in the air.

A must read...

2007-02-25T16:24:00.001+01:00

An absolute must read over at Dr Mona's. The first part of her trip to Ireland, as she was invited to give lectures about the situation for women in conflict areas, and the UN Security Council Resolution 1325, which relates to women's safety and security.

Here are some parts, to attract you.

Sunday 24th of February
Permit was not approved by the Israelis so I unpacked my suitcase. Sondos was let down but not surprised because in Gaza we always expect the worst and we are always forced to accept the abnormalities as the normal pattern of life under occupation.

Monday 25th of February
9am
I received a call from the Irish embassy telling me to be ready as the permit will be issued any minute. I was really pleased and hurried up from my work to my apartment, to pack up my suitcase again, and wait for a call from the Irish embassy. I didn’t collect Sondos from school as I didn’t want to let her down if we did not get the permit.

2pm
Sondos is back from school and is happy and excited to know that we may make it to Ireland via the Allenby Bridge crossing on the River Jordan.

4pm
The embassy phoned asking us to hurry up to the border at the Eritz checkpoint.

On the taxi to Allenby Bridge
8.30pm
Sondos cried with joy, disbelief and surprise to see Occupied Palestine/Israel for the 1st time in her 15 years. It is another world yet only 15 minutes drive from Gaza - two different worlds.

Seeing Isareli soldiers so close for the first time, my daughters comment was ‘some of them are nice’.

The whole post is here.

Missing Gaza?

2007-02-25T16:24:00.000+01:00

My "sister" in Gaza

Sometimes when I'm reminiscing out loud, people ask me "Do you miss Gaza?". And actually I do. Even though it was (almost) all a big trauma for me, I actually sometimes do miss it. Strange as it may seem, to myself. But if you ask me to specify what I miss I really can't. Sure, I love my relatives and I truly do miss them. But I really don't miss living with them (meaning in the same house). We are too different. They are too conservative with traditions and too liberal with religion and I am too liberal with traditions and too conservative with religion (comparing to each other, not to bin Baz).

This year that passed I haven't almost had any contact with them, except for a few short and polite eid mubarak telephone calls. I really don't know what to say. I know they love me, but I also know they don't understand me and my choices. And when I cannot express my feelings in Arabic that well, I don't want even to try. I would only feel like a fool. I am still healing. I am still trying to get back on track. I am still not over it.

What I miss is simply that "something" in the Arabic way that just attracts me and my well-being. It has something to do with their (in some ways) very open-minded reception, and their (in some ways) very relaxed and elegant attitude towards life.

If I knew then what I know now I of course would have done a few things differently. No, really?!!. Yes, it's true. We wanted to try to settle down in an Arabic Muslim country. And even though Gaza would only be a nutcase's first choice, it still was kind of inevitable. We did first choose other countries like Syria, Lebanon, Egypt, UAE, well, all of them actually, but ended up feeling lost and my husband was just too homesick to think straight. And of course, he might have made it, but I sure didn't and none of us could know that.

Looking back, we might not have done things in the best way or in the best order, or made all the right choices, that's for sure, but still... We did it without fear (as fools usually do) and that I think is what we benefited from in the end. If we knew what laid ahead of us we would never have done it, and we would just sit here and talk about it. But today I can proudly say "I lived in Gaza" and I actually wouldn't change that for the world.

A few days ago me and my husband was on the Internet checking something out, when one of his sister's daughters (from Gaza) logged in. She is the one of them all I could actually relate to and we could talk and joke about almost everything (even in my pour Arabic, imagine her patience). She is the one I miss the most. The day I arrived to Gaza she sat down next to me and said "Now you are like my sister". Those words meant a lot to me and they still do. I think she feelt as if I let her down by leaving Gaza. As if she felt that perhaps she wasn't as important to me as she might have first thought. Anyway, when she logged on I kind of froze and my husband asked me "What's wrong?" and you know, I really don't want to remind him of anything with Gaza as it is still an open wound for him (and me). But now, one year after coming back, I could admit in tears that "I miss her so much!"...

Making a memory

2007-02-17T18:49:00.000+01:00

Preparing for a birthday party is a pleasure for me. More than anything else you are giving your child a lifelong memory and a happy feeling when remembering their party. That is if you succed, of course.

This week was my daughter Amal's 5th birthday. Can I belive that it was 5 years ago since she was born, this little active angel of mine? No, I can't. But there's proof. I have to realize.

Her friends came. We eat cake and as much candy and chips and cookies that they could possibly take. They played the "chair-game" (when you put chairs in a double row and play music, when I stop the music you have to sit on an empty chair if you find one, if not you're out) until my downstairs neighbour came knocking on the door and when 7 children opened the door she said "Oh, that's why!".

Pre-PartyStraw- and Rasberry cake with chocolate

Post-Party

It's all good

2007-02-08T19:41:00.000+01:00

Lisa by Amal, my 5 year old, who kidnapped the camera.

This is gonna come across as if I have no life.

But here it goes. LISA WAS HERE. LISA WAS HERE. LISA WAS HERE. To be specific: IN MY HOME!!!!!!!!!

Ok, returning to planet Earth.

LISA WAS HERE!!!

Ok, ok, now... a deep breath. Another. Yes. That's it. Well, I must say, and this is not to flatter my "Jewish fanclub" as someone once put it, it is really true, that Lisa's blog is one of the best I've ever read. On top of that she is a successful journalist and a person with a great huge heart. Of course meeting her was a big deal for me, a little journalist- and even blogger-wannabe. But mostly because she have encouraged and uplifted me for some time now. By mail or by just reading her blog. I was mostly looking forward to meeting Lisa the person than the journalist and blogger.

Suddenly she stood there in the cold, outside my very own subway exit. Recognizing her from behind was really not that difficult, she kind of gave herself away with that sure-to-be-a-set-of-tulips wrapping in her hand. But even though, there was something special about her even from a distance. When she saw me she gave me a big, warm hug that squeezed the Swede out of me. We usually really don't allow ourselves to feel loved or worthy of appreciation (sick, I know, but that's another blogpost).

We sat in my kitchen. Mind you, that we have just moved and my home is not yet all that representable. Anyhow, we enjoyed our meal and spoke of things between heaven and earth. I was somewhat chocked of her experiences of Sweden so far, the only thing missing to mark "check" on the "Let's see if the prejudices on Sweden are true-list" was the ice-bear walking on the streets, but she do at this time still have a few days left, so who knows... Then, Rami, I should have a few chosen words with you on some other PREJUDICES, yes?

A few hours before Lisa arrived I spoke to one of my close friends and told her about the meeting. She said "Oh, what a great moment for the world-peace! It is the small meetings that makes a difference". I'm pretty sure she's right. Even though neither me nor Lisa needs to be "won over", I still felt that our meeting helped me and hopefully someone else too.

On a less "world-peace'y" kinda level (yes, I am aware I make up my own words as I go along), that is on a personal level, it felt like a healing moment. On what ever side you are, there is too much hate and distrust going on, so just to sit and eat and talk and laugh with, in my case, a Jew (however secular and balanced she may be) was for me simply healing.

On a Imaan & Lisa kinda level I really feel like I'v got a friend. Sending emails and commenting on eachother's blogs in all honour, but having somebodu hug you and eat your food and cookies - now that is true friendship! Thank you, miss Lisa.

Lisa Fan Club - over and out.

Imaan is back

2007-02-05T19:22:00.000+01:00

One year has passed. Yes.

For me, a very dramatic year filled with hard work and all sorts of troubles. Of course joy as well, let's not all complain.

Let me say this; I HAVE MISSED YOU ALL!!

Now I feel ready to pick up my blogging again. I've turned things in and out in my head, but I've come to some sort of conclusion about how I want my blog to be (or not to be). So here we are again, at Living in Gaza City-blogspot. This time I'm Imaan On Ice.

Oh, you will understand by time.

Dedicated bloggers will know what gave me a jumpstart. Believe it or not, I have been planning for some time to reblogg again, but this lady's calling simply made it irresistable.

Moving on

2006-02-26T18:25:00.000+01:00

Dear Readers,

since I left Gaza, now almost two months ago, my whole life has more or less been turned upside down. Both from a practical point of view and from an emotional point of view. Even though I love my blogging, there has simply not been that much time for that recently, unfortunately.

But now I'm stepping into "phase two" of my return, being able to harvest some of my efforts during these two months. And, perhaps more importantly, being able to harvest six months of hard personal "work" during my time in Gaza.

So I'm hoping for more blogging coming up.

However I'm no longer "Living in Gaza City"... so it's only fair that I'll go "Living in Stockholm City", where Gaza will be with me at heart. Please follow me there.

Meanwhile...

2006-02-07T21:33:00.000+01:00

I just saw a man (from Gaza) on AlJazeera that made an impression on me. Having tasted life in Gaza his words, but especially the look in his eyes, made me shiver. Even though six months in Gaza would be laughable to any Gazan, it has still made a permanent impact on me and my thoughts, opinions, feelings and life in general. The man (on AlJazeera) said "I wish the whole world watch!!" standing in the "left-overs" of an attacked car. His eyes were filled with fear and desperation (which would be a normal reaction when people around you are dying - read "Raising Yusuf" for better descriptions) but the thing that struck me was that even though his face was red from anger his eyes were MOST OF ALL filled with hopelessness.

Hopelessness.

Hope I spelled it right.

Bomb us, but don't laugh on us!!

2006-02-05T21:12:00.000+01:00

I strongly dislike what the Jyllands-Posten did, it lacks respect, taste and understanding which I believe all are things that freedom of speech should obey to. It is also well-known for me as a neighbour to Denmark that they for some time now have had strong anti-immigrants politics that differs from other Scandinavian countries, thanks God (gosh, two posts in a row mentioning the word politics - a personal best) and therefore these drawings feels extra distgusting.

However, I'm a bit surprised to the reactions (and again, my personal opinion is that most things can be solved by conversation). It's good that muslims react, they should, but not by violence. And, for God's sake, Palestine has been occupied for close to 60 years - where is the united ummah to free Palestine?

I just hope after this that we can join forces and boycott Coca Cola - or does it taste too good?

For next week, I'll inshaAllah be Living in Stockholm... Lots of fun stuff coming up!

It's official; Gaza is now really Hamastan

2006-01-29T13:19:00.001+01:00

Well, I don't usually speak my mind on political stuff but this time I cannot keep it in. Hamas won. However much I have disliked the ways of Hamas, I could not have said it better than this;

I'd just been discussing the results with one of the doctoral candidates and the interesting thing is that neither of us was particularly alarmed that Hamas had won 75 of the Palestinian Parliament's 132 seats. We were actually impressed that the elections had been clean, fair and transparent; we too saw the vote not as popular support for terrorism but rather rejection of the chaos and corruption over which Fatah had presided. I'm no expert on Palestinian politics and I have no idea what the Hamas victory will bring in the long run. Like everyone else, I can only speculate. And I don't like to speculate. All I can say is that I'm not hysterical, I'm not depressed and I'm willing to wait and see what happens next before I even start to adopt an attitude beyond curiosity.

I really don't know what the outcome of their winning will be. I think that Hamas have many sides to their organistaion than just blowing themselves up (one by one or in multiples). I can only hope that now in power they admit to changing palestinian society in a positive way. Like for example making Palestine cleaner, since it is haram to throw carbage on God's creation. For some time ahead I think that it will be a unsafe and uncertain situation in every regard.

I remember a conversation between me and some relatives some time before the elections. One woman said she would definitely vote for Hamas, since they at least feared God. Her son complained on her decision naming a few bad things with their organisation to which she answered "yes, you are right, but between two bad things I chose the least bad one". Her son announced that they had different opinions while smiling towards his mother. I asked if there were no possibilty to vote blank? There wasn't.

I think to most palestinians Hamas represent a change more than anything. Perhaps some are attracted to the fact that Hamas are doers rather than just speakers. Most of all the result of the vote speak of the fact that palestinians are living in unfair circumstances for too long. I won't get more specific than that.

I just wanted to say...

2006-01-17T21:27:00.000+01:00

... that I'm still here and I am preparing for many interesting posts about my impressions and thoughts on leaving Gaza, and on NOT living in Gaza anymore and on living in Stockholm again. Patience, people.

For the time being my children are at home (no kindergarten, no school) so it's FAMILY LIFE twentyfour seven, no time for blogging. However I'm running around with my camera (I named it Judy, he he) and it will come up soon, I promise (God willing!).

Thank you for all the comments. I'll try to answer all questions as time goes by.

The journey from hell...

2006-01-10T23:05:00.000+01:00

It's only natural that one would assume I by that mean "The journey from Gaza" - otherwise know as hell to some, but I actually mean THE JOURNEY from hell. Hold on to yourselves, this should be my longest post yet.

LEAVING GAZA
Of course my relatives were very sad to see us leave. We spent the last evening in my husband's sister's house. The morning we left they all cried. Being Gazans, I'm sure they could not really understand why I left. They love their Gaza so why didn't I?

I was accompanied by a relative (my childrens cousin) and after many phonecalls to check the status of the border we sat off for Rafah, with butterflies in my stumach. Ibrahim looked out the window to see the last part of Gaza.

We finally arrived to a rainy Rafah that morning. The taxi-cars were waiting outside. We got out and had to take another taxi to the border itself. Then we arrived to a small tent were our passports were checked. There were some questions, but we got through and into the bus that drove us to the real pass port check. And there the real problems came as well.

"She cannot pass here!" End of story. The man refused my passport. We tried to explain, my relative explained and the looked at my papers... Then a european looking woman came up to me after seeing my passport and said (in swedish) "Are you Swedish??". I think I'm the only swedish woman who passed Rafah, Palestine, under the control of a swedish policewoman. She said "Let me make a few phonecalls..." and after the palestinian officers pretended it was all their doing by writing a lot of stuff on their computers, we got through. Thanks God.

Then we arrived to the new and imroved Rafah... Very much thanks God.

After spending a few hours (nothing compared to our last visit there that lasted three days...) we finally got our passports back. I remembered how difficult it was for us last time. I remebered the places, the dirty toilets, the unpolite egyptians. I recognized some of the people.

We got out and then started looking for a taxi to travel to Cairo. The taxi-drivers were dressed with old and torn winterjackets, scarfes around their heads. It was really cold. Finally somebody agreed for the price that my relative offered and we were on our way. He drove fast and sometimes I just closed my eyes in order to not have to see how fast he was going through small villages.

A FEW DAYS IN CAIRO

Late at night we finally arrived to Cairo. There my relatives were waiting for us and had prepared a big meal for us. I put my children in their pyjamas and then we slept. Lovely. This is the view from her apartment.

My relative, whom I had never met before, turned out to be just what I needed at that time. She and her sister, who had also come to meet me, were both very critical to the conservative Gazan way of life.

You know, sometimes you FEEL a lot but you just don't know how to explain it or describe it. These two women helped me to put words on many of my feelings and for that I am very grateful. It was also a great relief to hear some straight "Tell it like it is" - kinda' talk after hearing to much "Kalaam fadi" for the last six months. My relative from Gaza (who unfortunately have gone through a difficult divorce recently) had his, I'm sure first, honest opinion told him straight in the face by this woman (that I stayed at) and I enjoyed every minute of it, sitting beside them trying to understand as musch as possible. When we left the room in order to pray we did "high five" when he didn't see us!

Here's my children playing with her's in her living room.

Coming to Cairo after Gaza made me realize many things. Like that we haven't seen a shoppingcenter for a very long time (that's not a bad thing however, the world really don't need more shoppingcenters). But from time to time, it can be enjoyable. Here's me an my niqabi relative looking at hidjabs (looking is the right word, the were between 10-25 dollar each, in Gaza I paid between 1-2 dollar each).

In this place I saw the most amazing hidjab constructions I have ever seen. For example I saw one woman with a scarf around her hair and in the back tight as a rose. Oh, had I only been a little bit more brave to ask for her photo and also not had two girls in need of visiting the toilet in the same time...

Another true sign of civilisation : eating at McDonald's. Trying to eat only halal it's not that often that you have the chance to eat a burger at McD:ies.

We spent some very nice days in Cairo. We relaxed in the great care of my relative. Here we are having arabic coffea at a local place nearby her house. My arabic skills were tested and I was happy to at least be able to hold a conversation and we were able to understand each other.

LEAVING CAIRO FOR SHARM EL SHEIKH FOR FRAKFURT FOR STOCKHOLM...

Thursday morning 6.30, we woke up. Put clothes on the children. My relative came to help with the bags and to say good bye. We left 7.30. I was hoping that my children gonna sleep, but nooo... The played with each other in the back of the car. My taxi-driver was very polite and didn't seem to mind. In fact he photographed my children with his mobile.

We drove through Sinai. It was very beautiful. Mountains. Sand. Sun. Blue sky.

At 15.00 we arrived to Sharm el Sheikh Airport. My driver helped me to pack all the heavy bags on a trolley and then left us. We sat here in this place for the next hours. Boooooring. Very boring for me. Extremly boring for small children.

My 3-year old daughter took this picture of a very tired blogger. And after she took it she told me "Mama, o'odi muaddabin" - "Mama, sit politly!" See what six months in Gaza does to you.

We finally got to check in our bags and then had to wait another few hours outside the gate. My children were so tired and hungry and I had the worst headache. Just before boarding the plane my youngest had a tantrum (I watch Dr Phil) - she wanted a bottle with milk. After 15 minutes of screaming I left the queu and my children in the care of that arabic "anti-arab-but-polite" man who helped me and went with my crying "baby" of 2 ½ to search for milk. Let me tell you, hidjab and blue eyes will get you anywhere. At the airport cafe they gave me a warm bottle of milk for free ("only for you!").

Then at 20.00 we got on the plane to Frakfurt. Arrived at 01.00 something. Collected our bags. Here I really felt that we were different when my two daughters staring singing nasheeds (islamic songs), loud and clear between all the tired Germans. "Mohammed nabina, ummuho Amina, Abo Abdullah, mat marra'a, jeddo, ili robba, abu Taleb ammo..." and so on. (Mohhamed is our prophet, his mother was Amina, his father was Abdullah...).

Outside my husband was waiting for us. It had been three months since we saw him. Here he is with our daughter and all our bags, in Frankfurt Airport.

However, Frankfurt has two airports... So our next flight was from the other one (of course). We waited until 03.00 when the bus came to drive us 1½ hour to the next airport, and there we waited until 10.00 until our flight for Skavsta outside Stockholm left. We slept on uncomfortable airport chairs. Here's Amal doing just that.

The flight from Frankfurt to Skavsta took like 2½ hours. The girls slept, Ibrahim was so tired and hungry that he just cried. It was awful. We were so tired, all of us. When we arrived to Skavsta Airport my parents were waiting for us, which was a big surprise. The children were so happy. We ate and rested, then continued to my parents house... another six hours by car...

So, from Thursday morning 7.30 until Friday evening 22.00. That is 38 hours on the road.

But who cares? We were home! There was snow!

All safe...

2006-01-01T21:28:00.000+01:00

Dear readers, I am now sitting in my fathers house looking at the snow outside the window. Cannot really belive it! I had a looong and interesting journey from Cairo to Sharm el Sheikh to Frankfurt to Skavsta to Uddevalla (my parent's city), wich I will tell you all about within short, but for now I just want to let you all know that we arrived safely and that there is a lot of snow in Sweden... I have some lovely photos to show you all from the journey.

A very arabic-society-culture-and-religion-hostile but polite man I met at the Sharm el Sheikh airport and discussed world politics with in arabic, english and a little bit in french while having a major headache and managing three tired children, asked me after we spent almost an hour talking outside the gate "How many days did you say you spent in Gaza?". When I answered "six MONTHS" he almost fell off the chair, looked at me to see if I was serious and then shook his head and stumbled "You are a hero!".

Having left Gaza I'm beginning to see this experience with a little bit of distance and even though it has been hard at times I now have answers to many of the questions I asked myself in the beginning. I know now what I didn't know then and I am planning to use that to my advantage.

In Cairo...

2005-12-24T16:42:00.000+01:00

We got through Rafah! At first they stopped us and I'm not sure what exactly got us through but I can tell you there was 2 swedish (EU) policemen, some phonecalls and many questions involved. We made it safely to Cairo and are now staying in a beautiful apartment with some relatives. After a few days we'll continue...

Off we go...

2005-12-22T13:29:00.000+01:00

In Gaza things never happen they way you plan them.

We're leaving already tomorrow. Early friday morning me, my three children and a cousin (a 30-year old big policeman - good travel company!) will set for Rafah with our four big bags. You might remember my last visit in Rafah, so you know I'm not looking forward to it. Of course, now things are completely different (so they say anyway). However, this crossing is now ONLY for holders of the palestinian ID "hawyia" so actually I'm not allowed to go through. We have spoken to the egyptian embassy and they said "no problem - she will pass", I've spoken to the swedsih embassy and they said "you might pass, you might not - give it a try!", some of my friends said "surely you will pass" some said "surely you wont pass". Needless to say I cannot sleep at night.

If I don't pass I will have to rearrange the whole trip to Erez and arrange for permission to go through there...

If I pass we will continue to Cairo (which will take us the whole day) and stay at a relative's house (the sister of my husband's sisters husband) until end of december when my flight will leave from Sharm el Sheikh (also another day's trip) in the evening, arrive at midnight in Frankfurt where my husband will meet up with us. We'll take the flight to Stockholm from there a few hours later and arrive in the morning. Somehow "InshaAllah" suits very well here.

So we have a loooong trip ahead of us.

Of course I will need to blog some last impressions later on. Thank you all for this wonderful time and as soon as possible I'll continue blogging!

A letter...

2005-12-22T06:50:00.000+01:00

Today is Maryam & Amal's last day at their kindergarten. The teacher of Maryam wrote her this heartfelt letter;

In the name of Allah

Dear Maryam

I love you, your face and I love to see you smiling

Everyday, every morning, every moment I love you

Hope to you happy life with your family

I will miss you tooooooo much

Yours

Maisoon

Shopping

2005-12-21T15:32:00.000+01:00

These last days have been filled with SHOPPING! Let's hope my husband doesn't read this post... Seriously, I cannot come home without some hidjabs for my friends and some for me, some abayas (oh, I found some really beautiful ones!) and some other things that you wont find in Sweden. It was also nice, now that I manage the art of going with a taxi in Gaza, to see some more of Gaza City on my own (well, of course I had my little man with me) and let me say I've had some interesting taxi-travels. One man insisted to know the name of the area I wanted to go to and all I knew was to say "I want to go to the end of this street", so then he gave me a whole lecture of the names of all the areas and as I went out of the taxi he explained what to say when going back, very thoughtful of him! I also manage by now the art of pressing prices, an art not easily obtained by europeans, let me tell you. First you start by asking how much it is, in you very best arabic. With hidjab and all I have been able to fool a few arabs. But then some make it all complicated and answer "basita" which is like "oh, it's nothing". It actually means "it's free" but they mean sort of "it's not that much", so even though you insist to know the price they want you to try it on first (if you're for example shopping for an abaya), knowing very well that once you've tried it on and it suits, you're stuck. Even though they do try to play me because I'm "ajnabyia" (foreigner) I've also tried to play them with the same fact; "Pleeeeaaase, give me a good price, I came all the way from Sweden!" An eye for an eye... Here's me shopping hidjabs.

Some images from Gaza streets.

After some serious shopping me and my son had a nice cup of green tea at Laila's house, talking about life in Gaza and of just being a mother. So nice to finally meet her! Here's our sons playing together.

Blogotherapy: Lead her to a place...

2005-12-20T20:27:00.000+01:00

Yesterday I went to the principal of my son's school to tell them that he's not coming back. Although it was an emotionally hard thing for me to do, because of the fact that Ibrahim did not like the school, it had to be done. Arriving in her office she started saying how very well behaved my son was compared to the other students who beat each other, and she showed me where in the face a boy had got kicked yesterday and how big of a scar he got and how much blood there had been. Then she made a face complaining about the noisy and cruel children she had in her school and told me that she wished they would all be quiet and kind like my son. Well, all I did was treat him like a little human and I didn't beat him.

Then we went to the schoolyard since the kids where having their break and Ibrahim wanted to say bye to some of his friends. Suddenly we were in the middle of fights and kicking, beating and pushing. Even though I was shocked by the EXTREME behaviour, I've learned by now that this is how children "play" here. All they ever see is violence, if not inside their family, so from TV or computergames or even just from above - airplanes in the air.

Once between all the kids, Ibrahim decided quickly that it was enough and he ran before me out the gate and stood there waiting for me (as you can see in the photo above).

For my faithful readers you know by now that the trend in my blogotherapy is music lyrics. This one describes very well how I've felt for a long time and which I'm now living by. It's by Celine Dion this time. Beautiful, beautiful.

as darkness falls each night
remind her where you are
every mother's prayer
every child knows
need to find a place
guide her with your grace
give her faith so she'll be safe
lead her to a place
guide her with your grace
to a place where she'll be safe

Go see this...

2005-12-19T20:39:00.000+01:00

Actually I found this blog at its begining, but then my computer suffered from a virus and the favorite-tag disappeared. This blog is the story of Bob, an american man who's teaching english in the West Bank. Beautiful photos, nice stories. Just read this post on the highly unusual event that a local ask him - the american - for directions...

"It was the first time, and it may have been the last: a Palestinian asked me for directions. The other day, as I was walking home in the dark and a van pulled up beside me. The driver rolled down the window and started as most conversations start here: “As-salam alaykum,” reaching his hand through the open window to shake mine. He was either desperately lost, or actually thought I was a Palestinian. In either case, he continued. I caught enough to realize he was asking for directions, but wasn’t sure where he wanted to go. I answered that I was a foreigner – “Ana ajnabee” – but that I would try to help. I pointed to the next thoroughfare and explained that it led to Beitouniya, a neighboring village to the west. That seemed to make them happy, and they thanked me and bid me farewell. I was stunned, but pleased. It was perhaps some small benchmark of my knowledge of Arabic, and of Ramallah.

Palestinian embroidery

2005-12-19T18:04:00.000+01:00

I couldn't leave Gaza without buying some beautiful palestinian national embroidery.

P.S. I bet this woman doesn't know she's being blogged.

Amal & Maryam's kindergarten

2005-12-17T17:04:00.000+01:00

Today I went to bring my girls from the kindergarten and took some photos. This kindergarten holds a good standard and my girls are happily going there everyday. I also wrote about it here.

Mindblowing...

2005-12-17T12:11:00.000+01:00

Here are some chosen parts from Laila's experience of the sleepless night;

"Just as my mother and I were chatting nonchalanatly, putting away the small plates of za'tar, olive oil, goat cheese, and persimmons, an enourmous explosion erupted following by the loud swoops of fighter jets-unlike ANYTHING I had ever heard- shaking our kitchen windows off the their hinges...the sound of Israeli fighter jets breaking the sound barrier over Gaza in a psychological war of terror.

I cannot begin to describe the sound except to say it penetrates into your very heart. Our whole building shook. I rand outside of the kitchen, fell down to the ground crying in hysterics, then screaming. My father woke up and held me tight, "its ok its ok", as my mother trying to calm me down. "what's happening, what's happening" I remember repeating hyserically. "We are being bombed, we are being bombed!"It is that feeling of uncertainty, of vulnerability and fear in the face of an unseen, seemingly formiddible force, of feeling that death is at your doorstep, that gets to you...that strikes morbid fear in your heart and soul.

I tried in vain to go to sleep after taking a benadryl. I brought Yousuf to sleep with me (who now, if asked what sound a plane makes, says "BOOM!"). Exactly at fajir call to prayer, it started again. Two more insane sonic booms. I cry now when I think of them. I can't get the near windows, I'm too afraid to be alone... I really dont' think anything I've witnessed here has had this kind of effect on me. Nothing.

I found this description by someone who has also experienced them: "You never get used to it if you're not prepared for the flypast. It's the scream of a thousand banshees which come immediately before the crash that unnerves. If you believe the aircraft is gonna attack, you're completely disorientated."

Read the posts here and here.

UPDATE: This particular night my children slept through most of the noice. When the first two hit, my daughter had just woke up and was luckily sitting in my knee. All you can do is hug her shaking little body and tell her that everything will be ok. Laila's description "it penetrates your very heart" is exactly how I have described it to my friends in Sweden. It feels like your heart is breaking.

It affects your mind (thereof the title "mindblowing"...), makes you do things totally out of character. The most scary thing is that IT MAKES YOU HATE. It makes you hate your life, you get depressed.

Laila's Yousuf now says "boom!" when asked how an airplane sounds. My 3 1/2 year old daughter asked me last time they dropped sonics on us, what it was that made that boom-sound? When I stumbled for words to explain, my 2 1/2 year old daughter filled in for me saying in arabic:

"Amal, hadha jahud!" - "Amal, it's the jews!"

Where's the hope in that?

My lovestory is all over

2005-12-16T18:20:00.000+01:00

I may have expressed some looove for Gaza in a recent post. Here's (some of the things) what woke me up again;

1. My son, who never is allowed to go out to play (too dangerous) spent some time just outside our building playing fotball with two neighbour-kids. So I thought. Being a few years older than him it turns out they took his fotball and kept playing between themselves while my son desperately tried to be a part of the game. He came home crying after a while. Kids here simply don't learn how to be compassionate.

2. Some days later he wanted to go with one of his friends from our bulding to a nearby park (the only playground in Gaza, I repeat, the ONLY one), that is just a few minutes walk from our home. I personally didn't allow him, but my son is soooooooo bored that he begged and begged, so I asked my realtives. Here's what they answered -"Oh no, there's two families in fued right now so they are outside shooting eachother and they might pass by the playground and start shooting." Nice, really nice.

3. Having only a short time left in Gaza I romatically thought that when my husband called me from Sweden and said -"Imaan, now that you have just a short time left please please please..." the sentence would finish something like "... please spend as much time as possible with my relatives", the sentence actually finished "... please listen (read obey) carefully to what my realtives advice you (there had been a question of how my children should spend their time that I took as interference and they considered as advice).

4. Another sleepless night. From Haaretz: "The Israel Air Force shelled Gaza Strip targets Friday in response to recent rocket fire from the Strip. Before dawn, IAF planes shelled 13 ground targets in the Gaza Strip that were used either as launching sites for Qassam rockets or paths leading to the sites."

Result:
1. Too unkind
2. Too dangerous
3. Too conservative
4. Too unsafe

Note to self: Don't live in Gaza

A Jihad for Hajj

2005-12-14T21:15:00.000+01:00

Once upon a time there was a sweet old lady,
palestinian origin but saw the world,
Kuwait and and the West.
One day she returned to the beloved homeland,
and growing old she wanted to preform the Hajj.
Seeing Mekka and Medina - oh what a joy!
They told her "yes, sure you will go!"
You will be one of the lucky ones who can go this year.
Then all of a sudden she got a "no".
Rejection.
She said "What the...! What is this?"
Are they lying to an old lady?
Disapointment. Anger. Sadness.
She took it she didn't have an important enough family name.
What has become of us?

A true story from Gaza.

PS. Jihad means effort.

Gaza images

2005-12-14T20:49:00.000+01:00

All of these photos are taken just outside my house. In fact the photo just above shows my house.

Eating falafel and blogging

2005-12-12T08:12:00.000+01:00

I really don't know how to start... Perhaps I'll just get straight to the point.

I am going home. We are returning to Sweden. There is a million things I would like to tell you about why and what has been going on in my mind. But how can I?

Here are the main reasons: I am convinced that this invironment is not healthy (in any way) for children to grow up in. My children managed by living an isolated life between family and friends during this time and got to taste the positive things of living here. Getting to know their father's family and learning arabic (all my children are more or less fluent in arabic by now). Getting to know the palestinian culture and way of life will surely be a invaluable asset as they grow up and create their own individual characters.

We were supposed to stay one year. And then see. But the other reason that we are leaving, and leaving earlier, is that my son's school is not living up to their promises. He is not happy. Staying would change him in a negative way, not in a positive way.

Do you remeber this comment:

jd said...
You are a mother. Your responsibility is to grant your children the best and brightest future possible. Right now you are floundering and failing at your sacred duty as a mother. Something has eroded your maternal instinct and common sense - just look around you! How did you convince yourself to move there?
13 November, 2005 20:28

I would like to address it again. To some extent I agree with jd. To chose Gaza is not wise. And as I said in the beginning there is a million reasons for that. And what I am about to say now is not simply to defend myself, but to show another side to it.

Each person have a destiny. I married a palestinian man from Gaza. My children are half Gazans. Our family and our childrens identity needed this stay. We have learned immensly from it and have grow as a family and as individuals. We came here to try. We tried.

At this point we are enjoying our life. However that is possible only beacuse I have learned over the months that they only way to survive here is to close your eyes and ears (and nose) to the outside world. The world outside my window and the world outside Gaza. You have to become selfish. And I don't want to live my life like that. Seemes like for each good thing there is a bad thing, but also that for each bad thing there is another way to look at it. There is understanding.

At this point I LOVE GAZA, for better or for worse. I love that when I prepare breakfast in the morning my neighbour's birds are singing happily into my kitchen from my open balcony door. I love the noise and the sandy streets. I love the farmer coming to sell fruits and vegetables with his cart and donkey outside our building. I love the busy markets (yesterday I bought jeans to my girls for 10 shekels each (around 2 dollars)!). I love all the fantastic and creative ways the women wear hijab, niqab, abaya, jilbab. I love the men in muslim clothes and beard. I love the polite taxidriver who call me "sister" when I get in the taxi (that he drives like a lunatic is something else - as I said: for each good thing is a bad thing). I love my relatives tasty food. I love going down to my kind neigbour for arabic coffea. I love eating fresh, warm falafel-sandwich with salad in the morning, that my son bought for me from our street this morning for one shekel before he went to school, and eating it while I'm writing this post.

This makes me think of a famous swedish fotball-player from the 80's, Torbjorn Nilsson. Me and my mother used to love watching fotball games on TV together and I have a vivid memory (not only of my mother screaming loudly on every goalchance, but...) of his last game. He said something that stuck with me for the rest of my life, explaining why he left the world of fotball when he was at his peak, Sweden's most famous and popular fotball-player; "You should stop while you are at your best".

PS. Of course I wont be able to give up my new addiction. I'll continue blogging living in Stockholm :-) so please follow me there. And stay tuned for my last month in Gaza.

My girls are praying

2005-12-11T17:06:00.000+01:00

This is Amal, 3 and Maryam, 2 pretending that they are very big girls. For my girls the experience to live here has been good. They like their kindergarten, they enjoy spending time with their father's realtives who all adore them, they like arabic music, they love all the beautiful girly clothes that we buy here, they love that their aunties put lipstick on them (well, I have my opinion about that...).

After the prayer Amal danced a little bit!

Imagine...

2005-12-10T20:28:00.000+01:00

This photo, that I really like so much, was taken just shortly after we arrived to Gaza this summer. My husband's father used to be a big land-owner and this house is located at his farm. There he had planted, with his own hands, mango-, orange-, peach- and apple-threes among other things. Today the land is devided between the eight brothers and sisters, and two old mango-threes is all that is left. My husband sold his part long time ago.

Arriving to this old farm was very emotional for my husband. The whole family used to spend time there during summer-weekends, eat and sing together. His father had built a small pool on top of the roof in which the children used to play.

To me this photo represent much of our experience coming to Gaza. I love my husband and he's a great man. But he came looking for something that is no longer here. Just look at my two children standing in front of their grand-father's empty old house.

You may say I'm a dreamer,
but I'm not the only one...

The school

2005-12-01T06:55:00.000+01:00

For my Socialanthropology studies I had an assignment to be a part of an environment for a couple of days, to observe. I chose a private school that I had heard som rumours about from friends. Of course my motives behind the stydy was also very personal, having just put my son in first class. Here is what I learned and out of the 150 photos I took, also some of what I saw. I put more photos here (for the assignment).

Inside the classroom

I got to follow Miss Jinan, one of the school's english teachers. She is a very proffessional teacher, managing the classroom with great control but yet some flexibility. She was very well-spoken and it was easy for us to get along. She took her job very serious, prepared her lesson into detail (which is required, but still) and she said she enjoyed it very much. She start her work at 7.30 after a twenty minutes drive to the school and finish at 13.30, thereafter she have around two hours of preparation to complete. Her sallary is 200 dollar a month.

She teaches grade 1-3 (6 years-8 years). The lessons always start with "God Morning Teacher! How are you?", and she let the children sing a lot, play games and act, listen to the lessons, write on the blackboard, write in the textbook, read - she keeps them busy. What surprised me is that the children are very active during class, everyone want to answer Miss Jinan's questions. All the time you hear "Me! Me! Me!".

This school opened just recently with the ambition for a high education level and no punishments. It is strictly forbidden to beat the children which is otherwise very common in Gaza, unfortunately. During my 3 days stay I saw that they however do not live up to their ambition, although this school is much better than others. The yearly fee is around 1000 dollar, whichs includes schooluniforms, books, transportation. Needless to say that this is not a representative school for Gaza, but it is one of the progressive schools.

This school is different in that regard that they have invested in the classrooms (they have quality chairs, desks, curtains), the teachers have a room to sit and prepare their work which is unusual (yes!), the teachers are provided with aids such as taperecorder, and they work with the Brittish Council and use their DVD for showing documentaries for the children. This school does not stand still, they try to learn and develop, which can not be said for other schools in Gaza who still use the same way of teaching as they used for todays students parents.

Having a break

The teachers seemes very much interested in each student. Miss Jinan tells me often about each students personalities "He is a very active boy!" or "She likes to read a lot!" or about their family situation "This father's boy died last year" or "His parents split up" and she tries to help them accordingly. In the teacher's room they discuss improvment of the students, who need extra help and what they can do to improve their classes. They take eachother's opinions. The prepare activities for the lessons and - of course - drink tea.

In the teacher's roomAnother unusual part of the school is the children's art exhibition. They have a special classroom just for arts and here is some of the results. The whole school have posters on the walls with images or wise words like "Qui Cherche Trouve!" in french and arabic. The three with the photos are the best students of each class.

Inside the school

After each break (they only have two during the whole day) they line up for some handclapping and singing on the schoolyard. It's very important to stand in straight lines. Then it is back to class!

Lining up!
Over all the school was very nice. I liked many things. They have invested in quality and have a good ambition. The reality however didn't quite match up which is very sad and left me very hopeless.

To finish this post is a photo from the school's entrance. Says something about the reality of this young generation.

Face to face

2005-11-27T09:11:00.000+01:00

Me and my son had another day out on our own again! We had a long walk through the city. The weather was nice and hot. This time I gave the camera to my 6 years old little boy and this is what he noticed. Here's me starting off our walk in our neighbourhood.
A flower shop. He liked all the colours.
A three. There are not that many of them here in Gaza, so my son noticed this one.
Well, you can tell he's a real swedish patriot. A VOLVO TRUCK! Of course, he had to take a picture of that one! Notice the donkey coming up beside it.
Here's a roundabout. He thought the man resting on a stone near this busy street looked funny.
The entrance of an apartment building. Almost ready.
A busy street beside a University.
The inside of a beautiful mosque.
Mummy having a mango juice in the park in front of Al Azhar University.

To end the story of our day out I would like to tell you what happened as we passed this mosque. You might see just behind the red van the shape of a woman in black sitting outside of the mosque. She's begging for money. It is strange how you've become used to that image. We passed her. Another woman was sitting on the other side of the mosque, having a child in her knee. We passed her too, as she was calling out to us, begging for mercy. Having passed her my son said to me "Why don't you give her money?". I couldn't come up with any good answer. I took out my wallet from my handbag, thinking first to give her some coins. Then I thought, why not give her a twenty, she will be really happy. Not having any twenties in my wallet, I thought, well, why not give her a hundred. She sure need the money more than we do. I let my son run back to her and give her the money. Upon recieving them she pointed to her heart and to the sky as to say "Allah is surely great". We walked on feeling very happy about what we just had done. After a while I heard somebody following us and calling out for us. It was the woman. I thought she had come to thank me. She told me that her husband had died and that she had no other family. She had four children. Her son who looked like 4 or 5 years old stood beside her. Their clothes we're torn and very dirty. She seemed to be begging me for money, I couldn't understand all what she said, and I felt so sad that she wasn't pleased with the hundred I had given her. After she insisted for a while I told her "but my son gave you money, didn't he?". Then she said "No, that wasn't me. It was the other woman!". Then I realized that there had been TWO women sitting at the mosque's two entrances and that the woman who recieved the money first had gone to tell her friend, and the friend came running after me. Of course my heart gave me no choice but to also give her a hundred. A hundred is not a lot to me, but a lot to them. She was so happy and thankful. She kissed me and blessed me and my children.

Coming face to face with poverty in that way really makes you think. With a very little effort I could change that woman's life and the life of her children. What if I was to collect money to let her children go to a good school, to buy them clothes, to bring them money for food?

I encorage all of you to go out today to face poverty. Give to somebody who really need it. Don't wait.

All you need is LG

2005-11-26T18:55:00.000+01:00

Any advertisement appears a bit out of place here in Gaza... "Life's Good. With LG, get all the smiles that you want". Does it work even in Gaza?

This is what I've been up to...

2005-11-23T21:11:00.000+01:00

The last three days I've been doing a "fieldstudy" as a project within my Socialanthropology studies. I have been sitting in a classroom, following a 24 year old english teacher at one of Gaza's most progressive private schools. Here's just a taste for you all of what to come within short at a blog near you.

Beautiful Gaza

2005-11-19T20:51:00.000+01:00

This is the breathtaking view from one of my friend's livingroom window. Gaza City at sunset.

Blogotherapy: A Britney Spears moment

2005-11-19T20:21:00.000+01:00

This is gonna seem strange, a muslim Qur'an reading gal like myself quoting popstar Britney Spears (and you thought you knew me by now...), but I simply cannot help but sing along with her catchy tunes. God help me. I once saw an interview with her on TV, she was obviously bored and tired having answered the same old questions from journalists the whole day. The swedish journalist critiqued her for singing anti-feminist lyrics, such as "I was born to love you" or "I'm a slave for you". She responded politly for a while, but then told him off: "You know, man, it's really not that deep".

I've already had a Frank Sinatra moment (and been smiling ever since) and now it's time for some Britney-filosophy. I'm trough analyzing.

For a while anyway.

Sheik it

2005-11-18T16:48:00.000+01:00

I know, it's not even funny... a sheik shaking it, well ok. Speaking of presenting another image of life in Gaza, I thought it's time to present another image of the Gazan men. Did you know they dance belly dance? I might be haunted by the Hamas for publishing this, but I'm willing to take my chances for the sake of peace, love and understanding.

At weddings the men usually dance, and they dance in a very feminine way. I will need to study some more anthropology before I can analyze that properly, but for now I just find it amusing. The arabic man is surrounded with too many stereotypes, I think, and this should give another side to it.

Fences

2005-11-18T16:01:00.000+01:00

I don't believe in fences. And I am very happy for all my readers in here. I personally believe that it is from feeling alike, that we can respect each other without necessarily having the same opinions or even faith.

That doesn't change the fact that there is a fence between Israel and Palestine, sometimes a wall that you can touch, sometimes a wall that you can feel.

I think on both sides people mostly just try to live their lives. In my blog I want to show just how ordinary (and sometimes not ordinary!) life can be even in Gaza. Not to say that we are not affected from the political situation because we are - I still didn't get my DVD back - but we also just live. We wake up, eat, go to school or work, watch TV, meet our friends, talk on the phone, surf the net, as I think most people do.

I am now studying Socialanthropology (from a swedish university by distance tuition - must be an old fashioned word but that's what my dictionary said), a subject that suits me very well and has been a great help for managing my situation as new in a different culture. It is also my beginning towards becoming a journalist, God willing. One of the things that I've learned is that the more you learn about others the more you learn about yourself. Reflection.

Another day in my life...

2005-11-18T07:33:00.000+01:00

My life in Gaza pretty much goes up and down. The good news is that I feel that our efforts during the first months are finally paying off. The other day walking my son back from school I saw some newly planted flowers by one of the apartment buildings. They made me very happy for two reasons. First of all because they ment somebody had taken the time and effort to plant them, and also because I noticed them! They woke me up from my usual depressed, homesick, kicking-around-carbage, mutterung kind of mood.

I cannot really describe in words how much this experience, although it is extremly difficult at times, has improved my life. To see things from a different perspective, to be "forced" to walk in somebody elses shoes is life changing. Clearly I'm at a turning point in my life. I am realizing many things about myself and my life and I feel that I finally see things clearly. A wise TV-personality, ms Oprah, say that you should be best at being you. Those words are deeper than they seem, at least for me. Be best at being you!

That's where I'm at right now. I often compare the life to a puzzle and as years goes by the bits fall into place. Coming to and living in Gaza has contributed with so many bits of my puzzle that it is overwelming. I'm struggling to hold on to each single bit, trying to understand them and apply them.

The bad news is that there are still difficulties at my son's school. I am preparing a separate post on that, God willing. We tackle them as they come along, but it's getting old.

It's also getting cold. You might think that I, coming from the North, would handle cold weather very well. Here however the houses are also cold, so we are freezing 24seven. On that subject a friend of mine in Sweden said to me "The winter might not be that much fun for you" to which I replied that if the summer had not been that much fun, the winter would sure not be that much fun. Misery needs to be laughed at.

Life goes on. But there is not a day that goes by without questioning our existence here. I got many comments on my previous post, all of them worth thinking about. As to what the hell I'm doing here, I would like to quote myslef (from an earlier post);

"Coming to Gaza has turned my life upside down. Some might wonder if I am naive and simply stupid for even thinking of Gaza as The place to raise a family, and until now I'm not sure if I have any satisfying answer to that. Perhaps I was naive and stupid."

It is still an ongoing process for me. Even though I of course see many benefits of our stay here, for me and my children as well, there is also a limit to how much we can take for those benefits. And where to draw the line?

But I would like to turn the attention from my choice of living here to the other mothers with children who are forced to live here under these circumstances. The children who are the same age as my son have never seen anything else than the effects of the occupation. They don't have the possibility to draw the line.

Remembering Arafat

2005-11-13T11:26:00.000+01:00

I had picked up my son from school a bit earlier. Now we both stood by the street waiting for a suitable transportation to the city. As there are no public transports, people on their way stop to pick up people in need of transportation, for the cost of one shekel. They pull over to hear which area you want to go, if it suit them they stop the car, if not they just continue. After some time we got lucky and jumped into a car and we were on our way. I had not told anyone that we were going. I wanted it to be my own day out with my son. My relatives, being overprotecting, would have either joined me or stopped me from going all alone. However, I knew that I at this point had gone along many times enough to know what to say and how to handle certain situations that might appear. I wanted to test my wings.

Soon I realized that there was something going on, because streets were blocked by police and we had to take other streets than usual to get to the city centre. The taxi had to stop a bit earlier and as we walked the last part I was suddenly face to face with thirty something masked men with machineguns who were lining up on the street. I heard music coming from the park were we had just been the other day and saw yellow flags and palestinian flags all over the place. I realized I had chosen the day of Arafat’s death one year ago as my first day out on my own. I reached for my camera in my handbag and realized another thing; it was still on my kitchen table at home (sorry guys!). As we tried to cross a street a minivan pulled up in front of us, full with armed and masked men, wearing black clothes, army clothes, some had the Palestinian scarf rapped around their face. The man closest to the window looked at me for a second, then pulled out a rocket as to show off and you will realize now that I’m totally ignorant when it comes to weapons, but my feeling when I saw it was that it’s that kind of rockets that land in Israel… When he didn’t see me I stuck out my tongue to him. In my imagination.

At first I of course got scared upon seeing all this and I would have turned around if it wasn’t for the fact that there were many families walking around the streets. In general the people seemed excited and happy, they were waving the flags and singing along with the music. In a park nearby a man was giving a speech. All I could think about was that Judy would have really liked me to take photos here and now…

Me and my son went shopping as the people marched the streets. Being ejnabiya (foreigner) I usually pay too much and I hate to bargain, but I figure it’s still cheap for me comparing to the prices in my own country. My son bought some toys for his Eid-money and I bought a new table-cloth for my kitchen table. We drank chocolate and strawberry milkshake at a little coffee house.

Upon returning I started doubt my skills since we couldn’t seem to get hold of a taxi. No one was going our way! Or did I do something wrong? After waiting for almost half an hour by the street, being rejected by car after car, we finally got lucky. The driver asked if I was thinking to pay for one passenger or two (my son usually sits in my knee and we get away with paying for only one seat) Now we had two big bags with us as well so I had already prepared two shekels that I was holding in my hand (I wasn’t gonna fight over one shekel, that’s for sure). Upon seeing them he stopped the car and we were on our way home.

We made it. The next morning I saw Arafats picture upside down on a t-shirt hanging in the sun to dry.

Thanks God for Omar

2005-11-11T08:07:00.000+01:00

Yesterday was a big day in my dear son's life. It was the first day since we arrived to Gaza in late June that a friend of his came to our home to play. Omar is in his class and they found each other from the very beginning, both being calm and kind. Kids here can be very violent and therefore my son has had a hard time relating to other boys in his age. That's why we are so grateful for Omar. This little six year-old is the reason our life runs more smoothly making my son love to go to school in the morning in spite of other difficulties.

After speaking to Omar's mother a few times at school and over the phone, she finally took my invitation of letting Omar come over to play. We tried to spoil him as much as possible with Sprite (his choice) and chocolate.

A visit to the park

2005-11-09T21:47:00.000+01:00

Today me and my children's cousins went with my children to eat at McDonald's lookalike restaurant. After that we went for a walk in the nearby park while sunset.

Views

2005-11-09T21:07:00.000+01:00

Yesterday I met a woman (clearly from the looks of it not palestinian) who came to pick up her son at the same school my son is in. I had already seen her in the morning when she and her husband had left their son (who turned out to be eight years of age) in the care of one of the teachers. As I come to the school daily I understood that this was their son's first day. They told him good bye and he stood beside the teacher. As I had witnessed the first weeks of starting school I knew very well that there would be no warm welcome for this son. In fact, he followed this teacher around until she told him to stay put and wait for her, until she would show him his place. He stood waiting, looking at the other children, who were all lining up in front of their classrooms. I heard some girls beside me wondering which class he would end up in, they went to eavesdropp beside the teachers who were speaking together, found out and return to their group and said "Not our class. It's enough, we already have one from England!".
As I returned to the school I saw the mother again. I introduced myself and found out that she was from Ukraine, she and her palestinian husband had just arrived to Gaza a few weeks ago and was now looking to establish a life here. Of course he was a doctor, what else do palestinians do in East of Europe? I asked her what her opinion of Gaza was so far, and she told me she was very satisfied and pleased with her new life. Oh, I thought to myself, could it be? But I actually think that speaks more of Ukraine than of Gaza, to be honest.

There are many east european woman living in Gaza. Usually they are not that optimistic as the woman I just met. Another Romanian woman I spoke to some months ago said that "any foreign woman who (have to) live in Gaza will go straight to paradise". That's another view.

The next day I spoke with another, this time palestinian, mother at the school, and she of course asked me what my opinion of Gaza was so far? When my face turned ugly, trying to find a not too unpolite answer while still being thruthful - it's haram to lie!, she said "Oh, I know... it's not easy. I've lived twenty years in Egypt and just moved here. When you are outside of Gaza you dream of living in Gaza, but when you are living in Gaza it makes you very tired". Then she added "Not because of Gaza itself (referring to the "situation") but because of the Gazans!".

Over the months I have come to the same opinion. I can manage the dirty streets and the electricity cut-offs, the closed borders, even the sonics (which in my other world used to be a game caracter... eh, not anymore) and the fact that my DVD is broken and the little technical thingy that is broken doesn't exist in Gaza but in Israel so I have to wait... I can live with all that (for some time at least), but I cannot, and I repeat cannot, live with people who behave badly.

I am of course complaining out of love, so then I ask myself why this wide spread bad behaviour exist? I know some answers, but it's never that easy. It may in fact be what I miss in their caracters that is the most difficult thing to bare.

Having published this it rang on my door. A woman, a friend of my relatives, greeted and kissed me and invited me to her daughters wedding party tomorrow. She looked into my eyes and made sure I promised her to come and that I would also bring my lovely children. She was so warm and friendly, I liked her at once, and then suddenly I felt so bad over what I just published for the world to read about Gazans (yeah, I have great expectations for my blog) on the world wide web. It's true that I've come to learn first hand that there is too much kalam fadi (empty words) going on here, too many lies told too easily, too much surface and cheating, too much beating and hard hearts, people driving like lunatics, too little evaluation. But also people like her.

I just hope the "good guys" will win.

Eid ul Fitr

2005-11-06T07:50:00.000+01:00

There is not that much that lights up your life living in Gaza. Being invited to one of my friends the husband asked me upon arriving about my husband (who is currently working in Sweden) "How is he? Is he ok?". I was silent for a few seconds, then I said "No!". We couldn't help but laugh, being aware of our difficult situation. Then he said, more serious "You know, it was a long time since I heard of someone who is ok...". This is life living in Gaza.

Even though Eid really isn't that much different from every other day it still gives an long needed opportunity for joy. The house is prepared by cleaning (even the walls are being washed) and re-decorated. At this time of year it was also the perfect opportunity to bring out the beautiful carpets as the winter is arriving. New colourful table-cloths are displayed. Everyone wears new clothes for Eid, even new shoes and handbags and jewellery (not the real stuff though).

On the first day there is Eid prayers in the mosque to be attended. In Sweden that is a family event, but here it is a male event (at least in my family). Eid is spent with family and friends, you visit your neighbours to wish them a happy Eid. The day before Eid they bake ma'moul, a date cookie, that is served when guests arrive along with coffea or tea. They talk, listen to music and dance. The children are given some money. People go to restaurants to eat. Walk the crowded streets. They say "al dunya Eid!", meaning something like "It's Eid out there!".

We've laughed and had a good time. I haven't seen people that joyful and happy since I arrived to Gaza.

This is where I would be...

2005-11-01T19:43:00.000+01:00

The person always gets a little extra homesick on hollidays, isn't it? Our Eid is coming up and I cannot help but think of where I would be with all my friends, if I wasn't here.

Ramadan in Gaza

2005-10-31T09:13:00.000+01:00

Celebrating the month of Ramadan is of course in some ways similiar to how we celbrate it in Sweden, but also in some ways very different. My experience of Ramadan in Gaza is of course depending on the traditions of my (husband's) family, but over all it seemes there are some general traditions.

In Sweden we invite or are invited for almost every iftar (the meal that breaks the fast), we eat dates and drink, then pray and eat soup and a simple meal. Here the tables are overwelmed by dish after dish. Each person actually get two plates to put food on beside from the soup-plate. At every iftar I'm under severe critic from my relatives beacuse I eat so "little", according to them. I guess swedish stumachs simply are smaller. It also seemes that it is not custom to invite other families for iftar.

In my opinion preparing so much food makes Ramadan all about eating, when it should be all about not eating. Ramadan is the month when you should try to evaluate your life and see what parts you perhaps need to improve, but I found that in general people here are satisfied with the level they're at. Which from one perspective is good - it's not healthy to never feel satisfaction I think, but on the other hand it leeds to stagnation - a stagnation that was one of the first things I noticed and disliked after arriving here. Not to say that I am better - I surely have my fair share of "things to deal with" but at least I'm holding on to the fact that I want to improve.

I join my family before iftar and help them with the preparations. At our table we are eight persons plus my three children. A few minutes before sunset we gather around the table, one of us stands by the window to hear the adhan (call for prayer) that signifies that the sun has set and we can all eat. After the iftar we (read the women) wash the dishes and then we drink arabic coffea and watch a syrian soapopera together.

Let's be Frank...

2005-10-30T22:18:00.000+01:00

After some emotionally exhausting months in Gaza I developped a new filosophy;

"Smile though your heart is aching,
smile even though it's breaking,
when there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by
If you smile through your fear and sorrows,
smile and maybe tomorrow,
you'll see the sun come shining through for you...

Light up your face with gladness, hide every trace of sadness,
although a tear may be ever so near,
that's the time you must keep on trying
Smile, what's the use of crying?
You'll find that life is still worthwhile,
if you just smile..."

Starting kindergarten

2005-10-30T21:18:00.000+01:00

My two dauhgter's are two and a half and three and a half years old, almost like twins. They are both very active little girls.

As I mentioned kindergartens here are more like schools. We went to see many different alternatives but none of them satisfied me, until we found a completely different one. Instead of chairs in the rooms they had colourful cushions and the owner said that they prefered to teach the children through playing. Rare. Very rare. Very rare here, that is. They had a big garden with hens in it (!) and a little pool. They also served lunch, which no one of the other kindergartens did. Of course it also was twice as expensive as the others...

The bus comes every morning to pick them up. They always leave being very happy and come back being very happy. One of few things that worked out very easily for us here.

Starting school

2005-10-30T20:49:00.000+01:00

In Palestine the children start school at the age of six. Before that it is very common to go to pre-school, better know to the West as kindergarten, but here it is really PRE-SCHOOL. Therefore most children are already used and familiar with the letters and the numbers when they start school.

My son's arabic was not that strong when we first arrived. He could understand some and speak very little. Starting an arabic school would of course not be easy. After looking at different alternatives we choosed a private school close to our house.

The first week was difficult. Really difficult. We were new in this country, and not familiar with their ways everything seemd strange and different. Most of all I missed "the fun" of starting school. The first weeks were just chaotic. The first grader's were scared and many of them cried and cried.

I remember clearly how I felt when I started school. I too was scared. My father would come with me and sit beside me in the classroom until I felt comfortable, so that's what I did for my son. I stayed beside him. After some days he was ok. He was really so very brave and I admire any six year old who can manage a new enviorment, new language, new people and classmates in the way that he did. Of course we would meet many difficulties by time but at this point I at least got him to go to school.

Garden of Gaza

2005-10-29T22:40:00.000+02:00

A wonderful garden in the middle of Gaza City that belongs to a dear friend of mine.

Building our home

2005-10-29T21:56:00.000+02:00

Our apartment in the area of Tal al Hawwa. We live on the fourth floor.

Summertime

2005-10-28T19:00:00.000+02:00

After arriving to Gaza city we could finally start to enjoy our summerholliday. We would spend fridays on the beach together with our family. The children would play in the sand and swim in the sea. We would bring our own food and eat and drink tea together.

Sometimes we would take walks through the city, sit in a park or in a cafeteria. On occasion we would go to a nice restaurant. There's really not much else to do.

As for me the summertimes were difficult. Just some weeks after we arrived a car was hit by Israeli rockets not so far from our home and the noice of the blast scared us. The electricity was cut off. Some days after that the Swedish Foreign Department urged Swedish Citizen's to leave Gaza Strip a.s.a.p. After speaking to my Embassy, who explained that the warning concerned those visiting Gaza temporarily due to the fact that the border would be kept close for a long period of time, we decided to stay.

However I was going through some serious emotional difficulties, should we stay or should we not? Me and my husband discussed this subject everyday, but the only thing that could make our choice easier was time. And the summertime passed.

First impressions

2005-10-25T19:40:00.000+02:00

After three horrible days in Rafah any place seemes great, so even Gaza. In retrospect, I really don't remember how long it took before I realized where I was, but we are talking about days - not more than that. And by "where I was" I don't mean geographically. I mean into which kind of society I had come.

Coming to Gaza has turned my life upside down. Some might wonder if I am naive and simply stupid for even thinking of Gaza as The place to raise a family, and until now I'm not sure if I have any satisfying answer to that. Perhaps I was naive and stupid. By saying that the initiative was my husband's it really sounds as if I'm trying to blame him, and it wouldn't be the whole truth. Our family had reached a point where we needed a change. You know, some people move out from the city to the countryside, some climb mountains, some take a year off, some re-educate themselves. We moved to Gaza.

Being sensitive is a character of mine that I've always considered a blessing. The society and the people of Gaza are however anything else but sensitive. Some of the first impressions I had was how children are being mistreated here, and how children mistreat eachother. How donkeys are being beaten. How easily muslims throw trash on our precious Ard ur-Ribaat. How easily people lie and cheat. And how little they think to improve themselves.

I have given it a lot of thought on wether or not I should publish the above. I've come to the conclusion that I wouldn't do my ummah (community) any favour by being silent. Palestinians face many severe issues that need immediate attention and it is my opinion that you cannot solve a problem you don't recognize. This is of course a topic I'm sure I'll have many reasons to discuss further on this blog.

A palestinian friend of mine said the following;

"While it s true the occupation has played a large, if not exclusive, role in ripping apart our society and its family support network through imprisonments injuries humiliation etc., wich can have dire consquences for many years to come, but we still carry much of the burden - we should be better than this.

Of course poverty plays a big role too. There is an interesting article by the Gaza community mental health programme that I read that addresses this issue - that talks about how poverty (80%) confounded with stress and post traumatic disorders due to witnessing violent incidents (of which 95% of palestinans in Gaza experience) makes most people in Gaza very edgy, stressed out, and oftentimes violent towards their families, and animals, and schoolchildren.

We have to ask, as members of that society, and as muslims, where do we go from here? I feel we are facing a moral degredation in our society more dangerous than any political problem we will ever face, because it unravels the very underpinning of societal structure."

By now I've already spent close to four months in Gaza. There has been many struggles and I will share them with you here. However I have come to realize that the Gazans do love their Gaza. They even sometimes refer to it as "sweet Gaza". Many people live satisfying lives here. Even our lives has over the months developped a certain "sweetness" to it. One of the things that really has surprised me is that Gazans try to live normal lives inspite of the difficulties, they focus on the positive things rather than the negative. We've had sleepless nights beacuse of bombs being dropped at Gaza, but they still go to work in the morning.

For me and my children our stay in Gaza will of course be an incredible experience however difficult it may be at times. Learning their father's language and culture will be a great benefit for them in their lives God willing. What will happen to us after this "trial period" is yet to see.

Rafah

2005-10-24T23:09:00.000+02:00

Living in Gaza is difficult, but coming to Gaza is even more difficult. Al Maabar, the Border, is an Arabic word that makes Gazans shiver. Me and my husband visited Gaza in 1999, so I already had a bad experience in the back of my mind when we arrived to Rafah. However, that experience would prove to be pleasant comparing to what was expecting us. This time we arrived with three small children and 8 bags in a politically very unstable time, the end of June 2005. It was already afternoon when we entered the border. We were met by a hall full of people and was told that the border had not yet opened that day. The first thing you have to do is get a visa from the Egyptian check point. In the middle of the hall is a little room in which the Egyptians sit and write on papers and applications, the tables are full with files and folders and there is not a single computer as far as your eyes reach. There is a long queue in front of the little window to the little room and once you’ve managed to leave your passport in their hands you have to wait… and wait and wait until your patience is all gone. Then you will confront them and ask what’s taking so long with your passport. That procedure is repeated about five till six times until you finally have your passport again with their stamp in it. Then you have to wait for the bus that is going to take you to the Israeli check point. Having European passports we were escorted trough the crowd that since the morning was waiting for the bus. A woman started shouting on us and my husband answered her that this is how the Arabs treat the Arabs. Our bags were stuffed into the bus. Then we sat outside under a tree and waited. It was hot and my children were tired and hungry. When the evening came they finally said that the Israeli check point wont open today, so we had to wait until tomorrow. The young woman sitting beside with a baby and a young son said “I will die if it’s like that!”. For the carriers of Palestinian passports (which was about 99% of the people) it meant spending the night at the check point. Due to our Swedish passports we managed to have our names written in a little notebook kept at the gate after canceling our visa, a process that took us many hours. At night we were finally able to come out and took a taxi back to the nearby city of Al Arish.

The next morning we woke up early and arrived at the Border at 07.00. This time the hall was more full than the day before. People sleeping on the stone floor, old people sitting on their bags, children crying. Now we had to renew our visa, a process of a few hours. Again we had to be escorted trough the crowd which was almost impossible due to all the people and their bags in front of the exit (to the buses). Again we sat under the tree. That day we had been able to bring some food with us. We had bought a bag of dates that we passed around to the people sitting beside us. We made friends with a Palestinian couple from Canada. My children slept in the grass. Sometimes they told us that the Israeli check point had opened and we better sit in the bus, but after sitting there a while we returned to sitting under the tree again. When evening arrived we realized that we wouldn’t cross the border even that day. Again we canceled our visa. Again we returned to Al Arish, this time in the company of our Canadian friends. That evening my children actually swam in the hotel pool (a great contrast to the chaos of Rafah) and my husband went out to buy them some new clothes (all our belongings were still inside the bus in Rafah) and we ate watermelon watching the sunset by the beach.

The next morning, after a hotel breakfast, we headed for the place of chaos again. This time we were met by a queue outside the border hall. Outside the gates was a large group of people, men, woman and children and their bags. They were all angry and frustrated. We managed to reach an Egyptian guard and explained to him that our names was in the little notebook, that our bags was already inside the bus and that we should be let in before these people because of that. The entrance was of course covered by the crowd so after some begging I was allowed by an Egyptian officer to let my oldest son and my youngest daughter and myself crawl under the fence. My husband however wasn’t allowed any shortcuts (however red his Swedish passport is, he is after all still an Arab) and our Canadian friend said to me “Leave one child in the hands of your husband otherwise they will never care to let him pass”. So my husband began to “climb” over the people who pushed him back. My daughter (who is only three) got scared and started to cry. I cried from the other side of the fence, tried to call out to her that everything would be ok. I begged the officer to try to help my husband but he pretended he didn’t hear me even though I pulled his clothes. When he finally arrived at the entrance the other Egyptian officers pushed him back and I started screaming that he was with me. At that point my husband also lost his temper and said a few well chosen words, something he could get away with due to our red coloured passports. Our Canadian friends also climbed trough the crowd following my husband. Somewhat chocked we could now continue to the hall, and of course it was more full than yesterday. Another visa process. By then the officers knew me by name, although that unfortunately didn’t speed up the process very much. Being escorted trough the crowd that day was horrible. The crowd started moving, some people fell and children and women were crying. Men were shouting. The pressure eventually became so heavy that the guards had to let them out. I shouted on the guards “How can you treat them this way? Are they animals?”. But they didn’t even look at me. Again we sat under the tree. Waited and waited.

Then the rumour spread. The Israeli check point was open! We took place in the bus. First I sat in a seat with another woman and my children, but as the bus filled up we were eventually five grown up women and my three children in one seat (which holds two sit places). After we had squeezed in ourselves far past our limit the somewhat sadistic buss driver said with a little smile on his face “And now the men will come on as well!”. Jippididoda. I cannot really estimate how many we actually were on that bus, but I can tell you that there was no air condition or even fan, my children almost fainted, my youngest 2-year old had a panic attack and screamed and screamed, my leg was pressed against the back of the chair in front of me (the pain lasted for almost a week) and soon even I started to feel faint. My stomach turned inside out, my whole body became cold, tears started to fall down my face. As a miracle my husband ended up just in front of my chair so he could lift up our daughter and put her on the top of the chair. Some other woman tried to hold her to calm her down, but she kept on screaming.

The passage that this bus is supposed to take us trough is approximately 200 m, between the Egyptian check point and the Israeli check point. After having clearance to pass, the bus started out but was stopped in the middle. Our bus stood still for close to an hour. I really don’t know how we survived that. But what choice did we have? And I really cannot find any other explanation for us being stopped than that the Israeli side prefers to make the Palestinian life really difficult. In that situation a man standing beside me actually made a clever joke, saying; “Ey balad hadhi?” Which country are we in?

Finally we arrived, shaking and crying. On the Israeli side we with non-Palestinian passports were the last ones to leave. One woman traveling alone was sent back, because of id-reasons, but in the end they let her pass. We reached Gaza Strip and our family that we hadn’t seen for six years was waiting for us.

There's no place like home...

2005-10-24T23:06:00.000+02:00

A question that has followed me through out my whole life, and perhaps now more than ever, is where is ‘home’? Is ‘home’ simply where you were born, or is ‘home’ where your father or mother were born, or is it perhaps where your social life is, where your work is? Is it just a feeling so you can ‘feel at home’ anywhere so far you are happy and satisfied?

As I mentioned I already moved a lot within my own country, so I can feel a little bit at home all over… or is it that I don’t feel at home anywhere? Hmmm. My husband also moved a lot, but he moved all over the world and when he finally reached Sweden he have since then also lived in many different cities. It seems that once you leave your place of birth you are forever doomed to a rootless existence.

Most immigrants dream of returning to their country of origin. It’s a very strong feeling that perhaps cannot quite be understood until you lived it yourself. Even though I refused the idea of leaving my own country (I had just to look at my husband to see what that does to you) I realized that my husband wasn’t able to let go of his dream. Better let him live it. I also knew, by the stories of others, that the odds were against him. Very few people can actually manage to return. It’s not easy to start a “new” life once you’ve reached a certain age. For most people the hardest part is that once you’ve returned you cannot dream anymore. You suddenly wake up and often realize that the country you’ve dreamed of is not covered with a pink shimmer. As UmmYousef with a sense of humour put it; “after all, Gaza is not all what it’s cracked up to be…”

As we are both devoted muslims there was of course a religious reason behind our choice. At first we struggled with choosing another country than Palestine (it was after all an occupied area although it shimmers in pink). First Syria (but we were advised not to by too many people due to the treatment of Palestinian nationals), then Jordan (but my husband’s sister who lives there advised us not to because she said the people there cannot be trusted), then Emirates (my husband traveled there but in the end we felt that living there was too expensive for us), then Morocco (since my husband have a brother there he traveled but came home sure that it was not the country for us) then we started thinking of Malaysia (but although it is a well run Islamic country it is too far away and too different, aren’t the children already dealing with two cultures?), perhaps England (but even though the muslims there reached much further than in Sweden, did we really want to leave a non-islamic country for another non-islamic country?) or Lebanon (too expensive). Finally we came to the conclusion that Egypt would be best. After all it’s the neighbor of Gaza and similar in culture and dialect. We made all the arrangements, sold our house, sold the car, told family and friends which was not at all easy. The closer we got to traveling, the closer the disengagement of the settlements in Gaza came, until finally we started thinking why should we live anywhere else than there? So after only a short time in Egypt we traveled for Gaza.

Can a blog be dedicated?

2005-10-22T13:34:00.000+02:00

Can a blog be dedicated? If it can, this blog is dedicated to Judy. I was praying for God to bless me with anything to make my heart happy again after having spent a rough couple of months in Gaza. Then a mail came to me. From Judy. It encouraged me in a way I cannot describe and it convinced me that I have to continue to believe in myself and that my stay here in Gaza can have a meaning.

I already have a blog in swedish on the same topic, but that one is a polite version for family and friends. Judy is the reason why I started this English blog (and also UmmYousef who started using a online translator trying to understand my posts!). The attention my swedish blog got was mostly due to the photos (and any photographic skills of mine is due to my father, who is a proffesional photographer I'm very proud to say) and be shure that they will also appear here. It seemed that they showed 'another view on the palestinians'.

Welcome!

2005-10-22T13:27:00.000+02:00

Welcome to my blog. It is meant to be the story of my stay in Gaza, and of course inevitably my thoughts and feelings about my life and life in general. First, let me introduce myself. My name means ‘Faith’ and I choosed that name for myself ten years ago, when I embraced Islam. Many people have over the years asked my ‘why’ I became a muslim, and there is of course a long and detailed story, which I’m gonna spare you all from, but in short it is because my parents raised me to be kind, honest and generous and when I came to a point in my life that I realized that there was “something out there” Islam seemed the most logical choice for me. The way Islam described God was really the way I already felt.

I am a Swedish woman, who was born and raised in Gothenburg, then at age thirteen moved to a smaller city called Trollhättan and after my graduation I flew out the nest and moved to my favorite city in the whole world; Stockholm. My whole family still live on the west coast, which is well know for it’s beautiful nature. I’ve just turned thirty and I love it. Can I finally be considered an adult now? Me and my husband just celebrated our seventh wedding anniversary this summer and together we share three lovely and stubborn children.

Why are we now in Gaza? Well, this is of course my husband’s home country. Even though he left it by his own choice after his graduation, he have ever since then, more or less, been dreaming of returning one day. As you all know ‘dreaming’ is never done in a realistic manner. Returning to Gaza is the hardest thing we’ve ever done, as you will find out through this blog. The other reason is that we both wanted to raise our children in an Islamic environment, but that environment, in my opinion, does to my disappointment not exist here. At least not in the way that I was looking for.

As I’ve been “blogging around” I realize already at this point that this blog could be heavily commented upon and therefore I would like to make a few things clear from the beginning. Even though I consider this land to be ‘Palestine’ I do realize the complexity of the situation between Israel and Palestine. I don’t believe in black or white solutions. I don’t support Hamas or any one of the extremist groups. I also don’t support the way the State of Israel occupy and oppress the Palestinian people. I have come to learn first hand why Gaza is called the world’s largest prison. However, this blog is not meant to be political. I just want to share what it's like to live in Gaza City, from my point of view.