I really can’t believe I am writing this..saying goodbye to someone we know is hard, difficult, and suffocating..but to someone we only knew online is maybe..harder?
I don’t know why..but my words fail me..I can’t write a blogpost about someone who never once did not comment on a post of mine..every single one..Haitham had an opinion/compliment/comment to share. & it made me feel like my voice was heard.
To Haitham..
To your kind soul..
To your empathetic heart..
To your eloquent mind..
To your family and loved ones..
May God give them the patience and faith to endure these terribly difficult times..
May God rest your soul in eternal peace..and may you have died peacefully knowing the impact you have left on others..even if only through this virtual world. I know you have impacted my life, and taught me the power of now.
Goodbye.
(So hard posting this, knowing Haitham would not, per his usual, comment)
If anyone told me in the year 2017 that 2020 was going to be like THIS, I would have never ever believed it.
I don’t think I’ve used the words “quarantine”, “pandemic” and “masks” till 2020 came along nor did I think I ever would.
As part of Jordan’s policy in combating COVID-19, the tiny virus that dominated our lives, our weekends (Friday & Saturday) will now be a “total lockdown”, until further notice. This means an absolute curfew, whereby no one can leave the house. It would have been issue had I not gotten used to it after a 100-day lockdown at home back in the Spring, when the virus found a home in Jordan.
Today, unlike any other day, I woke up wondering what has happened to my blog. I definitely miss coming here and exhaling all the stress and tension that I felt when reading global news or encountering certain hurdles. But whoever thought that above all what was happening, we will be witnessing the collapse of the world’s health sector?
I leave this here with the intention of coming back and writing about Jordan and COVID-19, the scenarios I have personally witnessed, the stories I have heard and, as a change, where I am in life now.
If you are still catching up with my blog, though I doubt anyone is at this point, I hope you are well and staying safe.
My high school principal once defined my sister & me in what my mum described as extremely accurate: the sensibile sister and the sensitive sister.
I could see where he was coming from. I always had been known to be more mature for my age and my sister’s tears are always ready to pour down. We went together nicely. But what really strikes me now is hearing so many comments from people about myself being “too sensivite”.
Apparently, in the “adult” world, being sensitive is not something to gloat about. One should build a chinese wall, be immune to any and all events, and think from the mind not from the heart. I’m not. And I will not change.
I will remain sensitive. I will always care when I see others in pain or hurt. I will always be happy others are too and I will always be affected with what others think of me.
Call me weak. Call me too nice. Call me easy to build and wreck. But I tell you, being sensitive is all the above’s opposites.
It is knowing whose opinions matter. It is knowing what to say and when to say it. It is knowing what words and actions to say and do. I am sensitive. And I will always be that way. I just hope my sense is never negatively affected by the increased sensitivity 😝
My new morning routine, which has been going on for months now, involves passing by a foreign embassy.
Every day as I pass by, I immediately say I am so going to blog about this. But time runs, life happens and I forget about it. Today, however, I am ready. I am ready to express the thoughts I get when I see the people crossing the street into the embassy. I see hope, I see light, I see dreams, I see aspirations, I see goals, I see new beginnings, I see trauma, I see hardships, I see tragedies..and I see despair.
The embassy is one of the embassies that declared its willingness to interview applicants coming from Syria and Iraq to assess their eligibility of being “refugees”. Their stories might not be as I describe them here, they might be the complete opposite. My post is my own reading of their faces and their eyes. It might be as faulty as ever, but I know that somewhere in here, there is truth..don’t ask me how and why. I just know. And as you are reading this, you will know there is, too.
Scene 1: A woman, probably in her early thirties, carrying a baby covered with a very thick blanket (it’s 3 degrees) with two little boys accompanying her. The boys are not older than 7 or 8 years, each carrying a backpack and running with joy as they cross the street. The woman’s walking pace is slower, not because of the baby she is carrying, but because of the heaviness that weighs her heart. As they enter the embassy, I imagine the boys have been told a lot about living in the West, about playing football in green fields, schools with huge playgrounds, freedom, education and bomb-free nights. The woman however knows how tough it might be. A new country, a new language, a new society, a new house, a new school, a new grocery store, a new system, a new everything. She knows that, on her own, as a single mum, she is crossing into the unknown. That moment, I wished I could stop the world for one second, go back a couple of years ago, and see the life this family had. Then I fast-forward, to the moment those boys carried their backpacks and left their home. I want to tell the officer at the embassy what this means to this family, what this interview is doing to their nervous system, what their country could offer. This family’s application might have been accepted, they might be on a plane right now. But also, it might have also been rejected. I don’t want to see those boys’ faces when they know they will not be traveling, when they know that they must go back to where they came from, to go back home, but home is no longer home. I pray for you lady, for your babies and your family, wherever you are.
Scene 2: A man, probably in his late 40s, with his wife and two, probably teenage girls. I sense this family is incomplete. There is a brother out there. But maybe his age is above the maximum age to apply with his family (21 years). I sense there is sadness in the man’s eyes. The way he looks at his wife and daughters every part of the second makes me feel his over-protectiveness. Who blames him, with the sights this man might have seen, he has every right to fear for their lives and his own. Maybe he heard of other females being abducted, raped and kidnapped for life. With sadness, comes hope. I see hope. His wife and daughters, as they enter the embassy, look at it with happiness. I think they see their future. Their freedom of leaving the house without the fear of being killed. Or what’s worse than murder, abduction. I wonder if they know that life is not as easy as they think in the West. Or if they do not mind adjusting to a new country as the place they, their parents, their grandparents, their great grandparents called home, is no longer home. I can sense they are wishing the embassy accepts their son. The son they left back home. The thing with different cultures is that the West do not understand that even if we, children of Arabs, become married adults, we are forever related to our families, especially parents. We live in the same country, if not the same city, we see them almost everyday. If we are not married, we live with our parents. Yes, this might seem weird and strange to foreigners, but to us, it’s not. It is the norm. Therefore, you see how hard it might be for this family to leave their only son behind….I pray for you kind man, I hope the sadness and worry in your eyes turn into happiness. I pray for a soon safe reunion of your family..not in countries welcoming ‘refugees’, but in your home. The peaceful home you built, the home you belong to.
Scene 3: Two elderly couple, walking on canes. The cars behind me honk. It’s rush hour I understand, but you can’t just not stop for these two humans. Their clothes, their walk, their head scarves, their canes, everything about them summarizes the whole point of this blog. They have stories to tell. Their eyes have seen so much happiness and despair..their lives have been long but filled with memories in their comfortable lands. As I see them crossing, I know they know they are not going to the unknown. They know where they are heading. Their lives have been full of experiences, witnessing the fall and rise of multiple countries..but they know that they do not understand it. They do not understand why, in the last years of their lives, they have to leave their couch, their favourite garden bench, their mosque, their church, their kitchen, the walls of the house that they built with every drop of sweat..they do not understand why they have to be away from their children and grandchildren..why they have to worry every single night about the whereabouts of their sons and daughters..why they cannot play with their baby grandchild..But as they walk on their canes, every step of the way, I see hope. Hope despite the misery they feel, hope that one day, their grandchildren will return to their land..to their house. Hope that their city will be peaceful again, that the cafe the man played chess at will survive, that the neighbours the woman drank coffee with in the morning will still be there..hope that one day, the next generation will understand the meaning of peace and diversity. Their eyes teach me a lesson..not to ever take anything for granted, to always be thankful for God’s blessings, to stand up for what I believe in, to defend my land, to continuously defeat the enemy living within us, to appreciate the blessing of a safe drive to work, and to remind myself that at any time, any day, any year, we might also cross into the unknown.
There are many many many more scenes that I can write about, but everything needs to end. For those wondering why I call the above stories “scenes” as if I am watching a movie, it is exactly because of that. It is really like a film, a horror movie, something from fiction. I always think that it must not be true that these stories are too daunting to be realistic. But I have to remind myself that there is no ending here, there is no director to shout CUT from behind..
After these people cross into the unknown and the doors of the embassy close, I can no longer see them. All I am certain of is that they will face more of the unknown: the embassies’ decisions are unknown, the progression of their lives is unknown and the future of their homelands remain unknown..till further notice.
I have to admit, I miss writing and publishing what I write. I miss getting involved in vigorous debates surrounding social, humanitarian and political issues. I used to breath out so much stress when I express my thoughts, my inner feelings. But reality got to me. People are not as nice as they seem, smiles often hide the deepest wounds, and kind hearts are extremely rare. So, as my voice is one of more than 7.5 billion, I decided to mute it and just live life one day at a time.
But again, I miss this blog, and I will not let what’s happening around the world ruin the only podium I enjoyed. So, I hope my posts continue to transfer the images and thoughts I have to you, and that you always leave your comments to me, whether as a public message or a private one. BadiaAlwer.wordpress.com remains as my personal platform to promote love, peace and faith.
There is really no better time to be blogging than when I am swamped with work, and I really need to share this: I AM ONE MONTH AWAY FROM SUBMITTING MY DISSERTATION. I am literally a couple of weeks away from saying goodbye to law school!
I can’t believe this, and in one way time has passed so slowly, but in another, I think it was yesterday that I had my first lecture.
Oh well, life does flash by so quickly, and I am surprisingly enjoying all the no-sleep nights, procrastination, anxiety attacks, deadlines and the pressure of law school, because guess what? In a few weeks, it will all be water under the bridge!
ما يجري في العالم و في العالم العربي تحديداً يجعل كل من يعيش في بلد تنعم بالأمن و الأمان أن يشعر بأن مشاكل بلده “بسيطة” بحيث أنها لا تتضمن قطع رؤوس أو لجوء على الأقدام أو جوع قاتل أو عدم وجود جيش يثق به أو انعدام التعليم و الصحة ….إلخ. لكن لا أعتقد أن علينا السكوت عن ما يحدث في الأردن بحجة أننا أفضل حالاً من الدول التي تجاورنا.علينا إيجاد حلول و تطبيق القانون بجدية لكي لا نصل إلى ما وصل اليه العالم العربي من فوضى و دم
قبل عدة ايام، امطرت سماء الأردن مطراً شديداً و أدى ذلك الى غرق بيوت و متاجر، و للأسف غرق ايضاً اشخاص، منهم أطفال و ادى ذلك الى وفاتهم. لا اريد ان ادخل في تفاصيل البنية التحتية لعمان التي يقول الناس انها سبب عدم تحمل المدينة لذلك الكم الهائل من المطر، و لا أريد أن احلل و اتساءل على من تقع مسؤولية هذا الأمر و كيف يجب محاسبتهم. ما اريد ان اقوله هو أن عمان او الأردن بشكل عام يعاني من الغرق منذ سنوات و ليس بسبب الامطار. بلدنا تغرق من افعالنا، من اخلاقنا، من كلامنا و من حوادثنا..
ما حصل أمس في مركز تدريب الجيش في الموقر جعلني اعيد التفكير في مجتمعنا. لقد قتل احد عناصر جيش زملائه..لم يقتلهم ارهابي او اجنبي بل ابن بلدهم..كل يوم نسمع عن اب يقتل ابنته بداعي الشرف..او نسمع عن شقيق خطف شقيقته و قتلها ببرودة ايضاً تحت اسم الشرف..نسمع عن مخدرات و عن سرقة و عن و عن و عن..نحزن لدقائق ندعي الله ان يحمي الاردن و نكمل يومنا كاننا لم نسمع شيئاً. اصبحنا مجتمعاً يسمع عن الموت كثيراً لدرجة اننا نستطيع مشاهدة نشرة الاخبار المسائية و هي مليئة بالدم و التعذيب و لا نرمش مرة. لقد انتصر العدو على ضمائرنا فلم يبق اي خبر يفاجئنا و اصبحنا نصلي من أجل موت ارحم و اقل ألم من موت آخر و ليس من أجل حياة..اصبح بعض منا يقدم طلبات لجوازات و تأشيرات و يفكر في خطط لمستقبل افضل بعيداً عن ارضه و بيته..
الماء اصبحت تحاصرنا..فانها تأتي بعدة اشكال. احدى اشكالها هي التحرش بالاناث و تردي مستوى الجامعات في معالجة هذه الظاهرة..ايضاً تحاصرنا مياه على شكل عدم احترام القانون..فمثلاً السلطة التشريعية لا تحترم ابسط قانون و هو عدم التدخين..فاذا قانون مكتوب بشكل واضح لا يحترم و لا يطبق من قبل من كتبه، ماذا نتأمل من المواطن؟
تحاصرنا عمالة الاطفال من كل الجهات..وضع التعليم لا يبشر بالخير و كيف نوعي المسؤول عن التعليم ان هذا الجيل هو جيل المستقبل؟! اكثر من ٦٠٠٠ طالب يترك المدرسة في عمر صغير جداً لعدة اسباب و منها قساوة المعلم/ة. التعليم هو اساس اي مجتمع، اذا لم نعطه 100% من تركيزنا و طاقاتنا، فنحن نرمي مستقبلنا في الهاوية
لا نزال نغرق بجرائم الشرف و النصوص القانونية التي تدعم المجرم..في ايام اجدادنا، كانت الثقة هي اساس المجتمع، اما في يومنا هذا، فكل واحد منا لا يثق بجاره و لا يؤمن بيته على احد. .
لا اعلم ماذا جرى للعاصمة و للبلد..و لا اجد مبرراً مقنعاً لصمت الاغلبية..فهل ننتظر لتصبح بلدنا تغرق بالدم لكي نتحرك و نصوب الأمور؟ البنية التحتية لمناهجنا، مدارسنا، مستشفياتنا، حكوماتنا، تربيتنا و اخلاقنا تحتاج لإصلاح. و ليس إصلاح كترتيب و تستير، بل اصلاح يقتلع الجذور التي تسمم الشجرة.
انا اشعر اننا اليوم نغرق..و لكن ما زلنا نستطيع السيطرة على الوضع، انها فقط ماء و فتح مجال لافراغها ليس بالامر الصعب، فإذا اهتم كل احد منا بالوضع و نظم نفسه و بيته و مجتمعه الصغير،سنتمكن جميعنا من الخروج من الماء و استنشاق الهواء النظيف..على الحكومة استيعاب ما يحصل..لماذا لا تتنقل الحكومة من محافظة الى محافظة؟ لماذا فقط التركيز على العاصمة؟ على سبيل المثال، قبل سنة، اعلنت الحكومة ان محافظة المفرق اصبحت ‘منكوبة’!! لماذا لا تستقر الحكومة لمدة سنة في المفرق لكي تطورها و تعمل على انقاذها من الغرق؟ و ينطبق هذا الكلام على جميع المحافظات التي تعاني من تردي اوضاع المعيشة..
.. دعونا لا ننتظر اليوم الذي نغرق فيه بالدم، فمن تجارب غيرنا تعلمنا ان لا احد يخرج من ذاك الغرق على قيد الحياة..
A friend of mine, who lives in Lebanon, asked me to check out the location of a certain place as I had faster access to the internet. I am used to searching for places in the UK, where I study, and hence always get the same message from google maps “No routes found”, because common sense, how can an app possibly find a walking/car distance route from Amman to a location which is seas away?
Anyway, I am rambling off point, as I entered the Lebanese address, I expected an error message, but it actually found a route. An app, on my mobile phone, found a simple route to Lebanon which only takes 5 hours. Lebanon was closer or let us say approximately the same distance away Amman is from Aqaba (another city in Jordan).
Why is it depressing to know that Lebanon is 5 hours away? because you cannot go there. You simply cannot get in your car and drive there, the Syrian war stands in between. It blocks you, it shatters you, it destroys you. Syria is bleeding, and Syria is 2 hours away.
This is just a random post, a post to show myself and anyone reading this how close Syria is, how close Lebanon is, how close Palestine is, how the Arab World has no real boundaries, its just an illusion, its just some fences and solid borders, its not a bed of water, nor a high mountain. We are one, we cannot alienate ourselves from what is happening in Syria, we cannot pretend that the Palestinian conflict does not affect us and we cannot stand still to what is happening around us. We cannot ignore it and live in our bubble, yes it is not only wrong, but it is also NOT POSSIBLE.
Remember, Lebanon is a 5-hour drive, and Syria is a 2-hour one.
I remember the day I first created a Facebook account. I was in school, everyone was talking about it and I went home, activated an account, and it started. At first, it was photos, wall posts, birthday wishes and jokes. There was no politics, no dirty media, no nothing. It was like a mini lala land online. With time, the internet in my country grew and electronic news outlets reproduced. I opened a twitter account and my addiction to social media began. I always wanted to refresh my twitter timeline, get the juice of the recent headline, read the comments, reply, enter into arguments, and then just randomly tweet.
Facebook became the same thing as well. On one hand, you have people sharing weddings celebrations happiness, while on the other hand you have misery wars death tolls. Nothing was ever in between, and especially when you live in the Arab World, the past 3 years have been devastatingly bloody, and it seems the blood is going to increase. The thing with electronic newspapers is the fact that they are not monitored nor do they publish hours after the event happens, but release the headline the moment it happens, without any proof without any credibility. It’s awful, really. The amount of lies you read, the titles they use for an article that is not really saying what the title suggests, the comments they allow to be written underneath the news…etc. All of this opened my eyes to something in my society I did not know existed: hatred. We have it within us, and the thought of the comments I read being written by people who live in the same community I do, scared my heart. When did we become like this? Were we always like that?….
For now, I am saying goodbye to social media. I have lost my objective of being a member of that electronic community, but I will keep my blog. It is something I enjoy having despite not writing anything for a while now. To be honest, I stare and stare with no clue about what to write..my hands are numb to the things I am hearing and seeing on the news..it’s really sad how we watched cities and countries crumbling down in front of our eyes..makes me feel powerless, helpless.
I will try and write more, and less people will read as I will not have a Facebook/twitter to share it on, but hey that’s is a sacrifice I am willing to make 🙂
Earlier this year, it was formally announced that Prince Ali Bin Al-Hussein will be running for the leadership of The Fédération Internationale de Football Association (FIFA). I have to admit, I am not one of those people who knows every player in every world league, but I do know one thing and that is Prince Ali should be next to lead this huge association.
Why? Well for one, he is honest, credible and passionate about the game itself. FIFA needs to recollect itself as it has lost what it stands for after multiple corruption scandals. FIFA is all about football, it is about letting everyone and anyone ENJOY the game. Prince Ali has that required energy to bring it back to what it used to be. Prince Ali founded a non-profit youth commission ‘The Asian Football Development Project’, which is a platform for the youth to address social and and developmental objectives through football. He believes that football has the power to change lives and overcome social obstacles. It can bring people and countries closer to each other, and develop countries in need. Who better to lead the international association of football than someone who believes in the essence of the game itself, and does not take into consideration the personal financial/material gains? Prince Ali is painting a bigger picture, a picture that can develop Asia and the world.
One interesting accomplishment of Prince Ali, one that every Arab and Muslim should be proud of, is the lifting of the Hijab ban for women in sports. Before Prince Ali championed the historical moment, women wearing the hijab were disqualified from competing in world-class sports because of their hijab. While rallying to lift the ban, Prince Ali said: “We have a responsibility to ensure that all women who wear a headscarf are able to participate in the game they love. Football is a sport for all”.
Is there really someone out there who could be better than Prince Ali leading FIFA? I don’t know about you, but I think not. Europe has announced that it welcomes Prince Ali’s candidacy. Prince Ali has dedicatedly stated that he will turn Fifa into a “transparent, democratic leadership”. All is required that countries, ESPECIALLY, Arab countries support this young aspirational Prince. He is committed to his work, and will play a huge part in changing the way the world see Arabs. If we stay on the same path we are at now, we will always be remembered for being ‘war lovers’ and we will always be countries that universities will study and write essays about when discussing politics and war consequences..but we can change that.
We, ARABS, would be able to say, the President of THE FIFA, is an Arab. He is just like you and I. He is no different, he is leading an international association, and he will be brilliant. Take the chance we have, to be known for something other than the stereotypical Arab image..defy the ‘terrorist’ media propaganda..
Arab countries stand with this young Arab Prince..let him be the youngest FIFA President since 1904..let the son of the legendary late King Hussein clean the name of FIFA ..let the son of the great Queen Alia, who died in a plane crash while on the way to help a hospital in need, achieve our goals in sports..let him deliver football to children who enjoy the game but cannot play..let him champion women’s rights in competing..let him be the next big thing..let him make us proud and let him make a difference.
Last but not least, let’s be clear about one thing, if this voting procedure is all about transparency, development, democratic management and the right ethics for football, then everyone should be shouting: ALI FOR FIFA.
Badia 