So yesterday I looked my usual disastrous self. Honestly people I have a huge horrid scab on the back of my scalp from the constant dampness that gathers there. It is like the rest of our things in this monsoon weather, molding. Gross. Top that off with the rains holding for a day and the temps with humidity soaring and Zana and Abe wiping different little gifts on my shalwars throughout the day. My kameez hangs on me like a sack and my toes are grimey from living barefoot or in flipflops. I was playing in the street with my kids and some other kids around the corner.
The boys are polite, obedient little ones who are not usually out playing but when they are it is always a pleasure to play with them. They are about a year or two older than Abe and attend school in English medium so they understand important words like, "ball, catch, and stop." Stop tops the list as most important as we were playing catch across the gulley (read here street in the States with a 30 mile an hour limit which doubles a thoroughfare). Whenever motorbikes rounded the bend I corralled Zana and Abe on my side of the street while trying to grab the ball so no one would run after it while vehicles zoomed, cycled, meandered and flew between us.
After playing for awhile a rickshaw slowly made the hump onto our street with two large women in their black burques. They looked hot like me but they did not have the flumpy frumpy look that I was sporting for all to see with my greasy hair. The new look is sparkles in the sleeves and back and one lady had a purple covering. I confess I felt a little envious with the get up. For going out at least it would make life easier in this dress code conscience country. If my friends could see how dress while shopping in the States they would die. They dress up to the nines to go shopping. Heels and all. I don't wear hijab in a place where my friends are a minority and hijab is a statement not only about modesty, propriety, faith, femininity, strength, and family ties it also is a required religious statement in a country where a person's religion is visible as soon as they are visible. It is not just a personal choice here but a group decision when leaving the neighborhood to conform and identify. So I don't wear the head covering that would hide the bad hair day in a cute glittery purple scarf rather I have the plain cloth that still causes questions and slides off revealing the bed (or can I say sweat) head underneath.
All I have seen of this video is a little staring boy but I love his response so much and that I am posting the video for the first 10 second alone. I'll let you know what I think of the rest. Who have you stared at today? Who have you actually wondered about and really looked at and then asked a question. Sometimes I think if we treated the world around us more like children amazed and a little ungloriously correct we would have more friends and dialogue with more people about things that matter more. So today I hope to stare at someone and then ask a question about something that I haven't noticed before that leads to something deeper.
The boys are polite, obedient little ones who are not usually out playing but when they are it is always a pleasure to play with them. They are about a year or two older than Abe and attend school in English medium so they understand important words like, "ball, catch, and stop." Stop tops the list as most important as we were playing catch across the gulley (read here street in the States with a 30 mile an hour limit which doubles a thoroughfare). Whenever motorbikes rounded the bend I corralled Zana and Abe on my side of the street while trying to grab the ball so no one would run after it while vehicles zoomed, cycled, meandered and flew between us.
After playing for awhile a rickshaw slowly made the hump onto our street with two large women in their black burques. They looked hot like me but they did not have the flumpy frumpy look that I was sporting for all to see with my greasy hair. The new look is sparkles in the sleeves and back and one lady had a purple covering. I confess I felt a little envious with the get up. For going out at least it would make life easier in this dress code conscience country. If my friends could see how dress while shopping in the States they would die. They dress up to the nines to go shopping. Heels and all. I don't wear hijab in a place where my friends are a minority and hijab is a statement not only about modesty, propriety, faith, femininity, strength, and family ties it also is a required religious statement in a country where a person's religion is visible as soon as they are visible. It is not just a personal choice here but a group decision when leaving the neighborhood to conform and identify. So I don't wear the head covering that would hide the bad hair day in a cute glittery purple scarf rather I have the plain cloth that still causes questions and slides off revealing the bed (or can I say sweat) head underneath.
All I have seen of this video is a little staring boy but I love his response so much and that I am posting the video for the first 10 second alone. I'll let you know what I think of the rest. Who have you stared at today? Who have you actually wondered about and really looked at and then asked a question. Sometimes I think if we treated the world around us more like children amazed and a little ungloriously correct we would have more friends and dialogue with more people about things that matter more. So today I hope to stare at someone and then ask a question about something that I haven't noticed before that leads to something deeper.
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