It's all good

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.

A letter...

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

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.

Thanks God for Omar

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.

Views

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

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.