Let fear not win

When I had dinner with some colleagues last week I asked the waiter if the meat was halal. The respons was “Oh you’re that kind of trouble  muslim who only eat halláaaaal”. I’m sorry, did I ask for his chef cook to convert so he can kill the chicken halal? I don’t mind if it’s not hallal, I’m just asking. If it’s not, I eat some vegetarian food. No problem at all.

It reminded me of a time I went for dinner with my friends. One girl was getting married so we decided to go out to a nice restaurant and celebrate.  While we were there for 3 hours I realised I had to renew my parkingcard. So I left to renew it and went back in 5 minutes. Trying to walk in they forbid me the entrance. I was overwhelmed.  I didn’t connect it with my veil, I’ve been there for 3 hours already. When I asked why, they pointed out that caps are not allowed in a restaurant, so neither are veils. One guy thought he even had to point out that if I wanted to wear a veil, I should go to my own country.  The only reply I could give at that moment was “but….I am from this country”. I was so overwhelmed I couldn’t reply. Ofcourse hours later, when I was already home, I had a lot of replies for them in my head.  Which were not so nice, so I will not repeat them here.

This didn’t happen in a small village, it happened in one of the biggest cities. A big city where half of the youth population is ‘ethnic’. Is this common here? No, luckily not. Yet. But it does happen and waving it away as if these things never happen here is wrong. It happened to me many times (in different situations) and I bet it happens to others too.  We should be aware of this. It hurts people. It hurted me. I don’t care about (for example) the restaurant, there are many others places to go to. But I felt humiliated and ashamed. Ashamed to see my friends through the window and calling them that I couldn’t get in. My friends are awesome, so they stood up immidiately and left. They were mad. And so was I. I felt powerless, helpless, but the shame hit me more.  I think it’s dangerous too. And no, you don’t have to be afraid of me.  But if you get this over yourself many times I can understand why other youth gets frustrated. Frustrated about society, frustrated nobody speaking up,  and maybe so frustrated they distance themself from this society. The society they live in, where they were born and raised.  I’m a person who speaks up (if not at the moment, then later on), because I’ve learned how to do that. I’m well articulated and I cán. But what if you can’t? Where does this frustration go? It worries me.  Especially in a time where society seems to revolve around the individual. Where freedom of speech seems to be only for the ones who have the biggest mouth and hurts others the most. Where freedom of religion is not that common anymore and where fear seems to win.

I did not write this to place myself as a victim. I am not (and even if I was, I refuse to be one). I write about this, because this is reality and we should all be aware. Let fear not win. Let it not devide us into groups and fingerpoint at each other. Let it not stop us from communicating with eachother. And most of all, let it not wipe away respect for eachother, how different we might be.

Addiction to the night

Sitting on my balcony, watching over nothing but gardens. The darkness of the night is full of wonders. And I love it. The only sound is from the little waterfall in one of the gardens. No honking cars, no phones ringing and, best of all, no people talking. I can hear myself  thinking, wondering.  Wondering about life, about people, about reality and fiction. Questioning the existence of human being, of belief, of the entire universe. Wishing  I was naive, innocent and full of dreams again.  While I sit underneath the blanket of stars I ask myself  how  I can crawl back from my tearvalley and dance again on the courtyard of my heart.  I have a journey to make. And although that frightens me, the night covers me with it’s calmness.

I sit there for hours, waiting for the spectaculair ending. The birds start singing their melodies. It’s a symphony of pure joy.  And it’s my signal to go to sleep. While people are awakening I pull myself back. Hiding for the day and longing for the next night. It’s an addiction which has no cure. 

Ramadan in The Netherlands (and what a day it was!)

Since I try to write about my dialy life, this is an item that can not be missed. I hear people talking about ramadan and the warmth it brings to everyone, the solidarity. Fasting together, eating together when sun goes down, praying together, remembering and thanking Allah swt for all the blessings given to us. I hear about it, but I never felt all of it. Ramadan is different for me. My family is Christian and this society is also mostly based on that. This is a day of my ramadan.

I stayed awake till fadj so I stood up late at 11:00. It’s still a long day, cause sun goes down at 21:33 here. I have to hurry up cause I need to go to the shop before I go to a businessmeeting in the afternoon. For most people it’s kinda weird, but shops close here at 18:00.  After that it’s quiet in the streets and after 22:00  most people go to bed. What a difference is that to what I’ve seen in many Islamic countries.  But, to keep it short, I go to the supermarket and leave for the meeting.

At the meeting they offer me coffee/tea/water and as I say politely no and explain it’s ramadan, I get the same old questions. Every year in ramadan I get the same questions and mostly even from the same people. “Oh, it’s ramadan…..but you can still drink some water right?”. I explain again and then the final comment is most likely “Yeah, but you can do it secretly right, I won’t tell anyone”. You know, I always explain, but some people just don’t want to know or learn.

After the meeting I go home and while I’m driving, I’m being stopped by the police. Routine alcohol check. For real! The policeman asked (before I have to blow into a machine) if I've been drinking today. I smile and try to be funny “Not even a single drop of water, sir”. He looks at me and asks “Are you drunk?”. I laugh so hard it takes me 5 minutes to calm down and explain it’s ramadan. I must note, most policemen know this, but apparently this policeman was sick the day this lesson was given at the academy. Ofcourse I still have to blow in some kind of machine, cause, and I quote “otherwise everyone can say he/she is having ramadan while they are secretly drinking”.

When I get home I call my parents, see how they are doing. My mom asks me to come by next week for dinner. I explain that I can come by, but that it’s ramadan and I can not eat with them. This is a struggle ever year. They know I fast, but they feel that I can still eat with them. What is the difference if I eat 1 day with them? I explain every year, but sometimes it feels like talking to the Chinese wall. My mom tells me to stay home if I don’t want to come by to eat. Ok. I don’t know how to respond to it anymore. I go sit on my couch and start reading Quran.

At 20:30 I start to plan my cooking. Props for all the women who don’t need to plan this and who’s kitchen is not totally ruined. Everything has to be finished at the same time, so it’s all warm and fresh. That really needs some scheduling, otherwise I would forget at least 1 thing. It kinda feels like going on vacation. I pack the day before but can’t sleep at night, cause I still have this feeling somewhere inside me that I forget something. Turns out I indeed always forget something. Luckily I only have to feed myself, otherwise it would be a disaster in my kitchen.

And then, it’s finally time. I eat a date, do my praying and go to eat a healthy iftar.  I’m easily filled and now I’m here, drinking my coffee and writing this. I love ramadan, the meanings behind it, the feeling I get, the awareness it brings. It’s the best month of the year. But I do miss the gathering, the sharing, the solidarity. I wish you all a blessed ramadan with all your family and friends. Enjoy and ,most importantly, learn.

How free are we really?

They often tell me I’m lucky to live in the free Europe. Where everything is possible and anything can happen. But how free are we really?

People tell me sometimes I’m being too negative and I have to look at the good news. But what good news is that exactly? The western media only put a one sited view about my religion, which is mostly about Al Qaida, taliban, Aghanistan, Iraq, suppressed women in muslim countries. They like to talk about muslims a lot instead of talking with them. Want to have high ratings? Put an item about muslims and violence or muslims and suppressed women. High ratings guaranteed.

I try to be positive and enjoy the world to the fullest. I see beauty in a simple flower or in the pigeon who lands on my balcony every morning. I feel beauty when the sun warms my skin or when it’s raining so hard I just get out to get totally soaked.  I hear beauty in a child’s laughter or when  my cat is meowing with joy. But yet I wonder, does this world loves me too?  I’m getting overthrown by  prejudices and stereotyping. But ofcourse I’m not allowed to talk about that, cause the ones who don’t face it every day tell me it’s not so bad and there are some people who think good about muslims. So I just stay quiet and try to straighten the misconception. Although nobody seriously ever asks.

We need more sweet grannies!

I was waiting at a busstop last week when an old woman came walking towards me. She approached me and told me the bus wasn’t driving that day. There was some kind of strike and it had been on the news. I normally don’t use public transportation and since my head is already full of garbage I tend to forget things which I don’t have to remember. She smiled at me and tapped me on the shoulder.  She told me, using her hands and feets, that I probably didn’t understand the news but that she was going to explain to me where the subway was. I knew she thought I didn’t understand Dutch. Normally I have a quick adroit reply, but as I was watching her trying to explain to me where I had to go, I was overwhelmed by her sweetness.  I gave her my smile and she gave me hers back. I stood up and walked in the way she pointed me and mumbled something like a thank you.

That day I was thinking a lot about her. Althought I’m an originally Dutch girl, I am not Dutch for most people anymore. It’s the way I look, the veil I wear. I haven’t changed a bit, but my appearance make people think I’m a foreigner. It makes people think I can’t speak their languages. It makes people give me flyers on the market to go to school and learn Dutch. It makes people think I am stupid.  It makes people feel they have the right to discriminate me. A politician said a few days before that the fear of foreign influences is understandable and justified.  That the Netherlands is not what it was anymore. Although the politician  used it in a different context,  I realised that indeed the Netherlands was not the Netherlands anymore.  These sweet old grannies are dying and the next generation is not so sweet anymore. The time where you could leave your door open and where everybody knows their neighbour is over.  I live in this house for six years now and I don’t even know the name of a single neighbour.  I greet them every morning, but 9 out of 10 times I get no reply back. We’re suppost to live together, but instead we all live on a seperat island.

Later that day I accidently saw the sweet granny again. She wanted to cross the street, but the cars weren’t stopping. I walked to her, gave her my arm and brought her across. She smiled at me and reached into her bag. She gave me an orange and continued on her way. I don’t think somebody ever gave me a fruit as a thank you.  It was kinda ironic, cause the national colour of my country is orange. She made me smile with her sweetness and I realised that this country now need to build bridges more then ever before.

The beauty of silence

Why is it that people always feel the need to chat. Every moment of silence has to be filled. I don’t like it. And if you talk too much, I don’t like you.

It’s actually why I always go to my friends instead of let them hang in my place. So I can leave when I’m done talking. When I heard enough noise. I’m too polite to tell them to shut up. I go home and be alone. Luckily my friends know me well and let me leave without questioning. I’m lucky with my friends. And although I have a lot of friends, I’m still a loner. And I love it. I love the silence. There’s something magic about it. I can be alone for days and I don’t care. Am I a social disaster? Probably. At least for society. But maybe they are just weird. And not me. It is possible. Don’t get me wrong, I like to hang out with my friends and talk and act goofy. But I can’t live without my alone time. 

And don’t let me start about guys, what is wrong with some of you? It happens sometimes a guy likes me. Not so often, but occasionally it happens. And the more I go away for some space and some silence, the more they come barking into my space. What the hell is wrong with you? Do I seriously have to talk to you every second of the day? Did men became girls all of a sudden? Leave me alone. Go sit next to me, shut up and play with your laptop. 

“You are single? Yes, I’m not so good”

People ask me many times why I’m still single.  They don’t ask in a less direct way, they just ask. Right in my face, as if they are my best friends and are allowed to ask me whatever they want. I must have a good answer to that question, cause how can a sweet girl as me be still single. I must do something wrong. They can fix that for me. They think they know me and overwhelm me with compliments. But the truth is, I’m not so good.

I’m floating down a river named emotions. And I throw them out. I don’t care if it makes you feel uncomfortable, cause I’m also kinda selfish sometimes. I have the ability to show emotions of a 5 year old, so that throwing out is not working very well. I don’t trust you, you have to trust me, but I don’t trust you. Cause yes, I’m projecting on you what other men did to me. I should have a warning label permanently attached to my hip. One that reads: "WARNING: I will push you away because I have a fear of getting to close to you and then losing you." I’m jealous too. I don’t accept you being jealous on me, but I am on you. So I give you 2 options, either stay home for the rest of your life or give me your password from your e-mail, facebook, twitter and google+. Maybe when times passes I have some kind of trust in you, but I don’t trust the other women around you. I know them. I am one of them. They are manipulative and will turn you around there finger. And you are naive. I decide that for you. So it’s better if you don’t speak to any women at all, unless she’s your family or a lesbian. Although I have my doubts about lesbians as well, they might turn into biseksual for you.  I might just lock you in my room, so your world is all about me. The same as my world is all about you. Cause that’s who I am too, I give you all my loyalty and love. I might even die for you.  I smother you with love and hugs and kisses. I’m open and honest. I am the nightmare girlfriend, but also the best girlfriend you ever had. That depends on how I feel. Cause I have moodswings and when I’m feeling bad you are the one who will know first.

Therefore I don’t think there will ever be someone who has enough patience, hope, believe in me, but this is kind of a long answer to the question why I am single. So I just shake  my shoulders and tell them I don’t know.