Family day out

They held hands together and were laughing as they made their way to the park. A mother and her children, the children playing and running around excitedly. I watched them pass, and could not but feel envy at how happy they were, together, as a family on a family day out.

I was working at the time, and one of the bonus of working as a postman is you get to meet and see all sorts of people. And that scene with the mother and children made my mind go a little numb... I tried to remember a time when my family did that together, but I could remember nothing. What came to mind were the fights, arguments, the 'cold wars' and awkward silences in which I as a kid tried to play the 'bridge' between everyone because it seemed like the natural thing to do to ease the tension. No smiles, no holding hands, no play time and fooling around with the sibling.

I know it doesn't help to dwell on these thoughts and unpleasant memories. But then when I think about the situation with my family today, I cannot be feel upset and wonder why there is so little love and communication between us. A deep emptiness filled my insides as I thought about how in this big, wide world there seems to be no one close to me and who I'm close to.

It's been more than ten years since I last lived with my parents. Ten years since my family was last a 'family' under one roof. With my parents living elsewhere, my brother and I living together but living separate lives, we only get to see each other on and off, and for a month or two at most each time. We've become scattered, and our bond with one another diluted.

Umbrella anyone?

There are mornings you wake up thinking: "Oh... another day at work!" But it wasn't just another day.

I skipped last week because I was ill, so there really was no excuse not to go in. I got showered and dressed, put on my jeans and a sweater, and off I cycled to work.

I was actually the first one there, since my colleagues were all... fashionably late. And I mean 'fashionably', because they were either in a suit or a formal dress, while I sat there in my jeans and sweater.

I had completely forgotten today was the official opening of the new building, and that there was a whole programme lined up the whole afternoon. It didn't matter that we had been working at the new building for over two months, because some VIP has to 'officially' open the building with speeches and carpets, champaigns and little hors d'oeuvres, or else the building is not 'officially open'.

So during lunch break I cycled home and got changed. With suit, shirt and tie, veryday David soon became young city professional David. And I was ready to face the crowd, let alone fit in.

It just had to be. The 'new' building I work in is situated on what has been called the "most beautiful avenue in Europe", right next door to the Swiss and Spanish embassies, a few steps from the parliament buildings, and a only a few houses down from the chique hotel where many prominent foreign dignatories have stayed on state visits to the Netherlands. And as the mayor of The Hague joked in the opening speech, the neighbourhood will get even more exclusive as soon as the Dutch version of Guantanamo Bay a stone's throw away (the American embassy) moves away.

The ‘official’ ceremony started in the old building, and then eventually the crowd made their way toward the new building. As all 'official' events, the heavy-weight VIPs gave speeches, praising what wonderful and gracious achievements have been made, and what bright wonderful future we all welcome with the opening of the new building. The Hague, despite being the 'City of Peace, Justice & Security' of the world, does not actually have an official university. Leiden University where I study and indirectly also work at, is the only institution with a presence right in the city centre, and in the past years has been offering high quality education to professionals and civil servants and the international community. And this has grown so much we need a second building to accommodate all the different academic institutes and courses that are now available. The people who were invited were people who's names you often read in the newspapers… former ministers, university rectors, professors, experts in this and that field… Of course, as lowly employees my colleagues and I could only stand at the sideline and gawk and awe at their influence and prestige, but it felt somehow proud to be standing in the same room as these prominents.

OK, enough bragging. As we expected, my colleagues and I weren’t there to just sip free champagne and nimble delicate biscuits. In the middle of a speech we were silently dragged away and put to work. Each of us were given an umbrella, and I thought we were to use them to escort the guests because it was raining. Even though the weather was gray, there was no rain. Then as we were given our ‘assignments’, I burst out laughing.

A bit too loud, perhaps. From the old to the new building is a walk of around 500 metres. To avoid our very important people wandering off and getting lost, groups of us need to stand at ‘key positions’ and point the way. How would they identify us? With the umbrellas.

Soon enough, my colleagues and I were spread out along the way, hoisting our proud blue umbrellas bearing the university logo, and pointing the way… cursing under our breaths. Well, I didn’t curse, I just found it all hilarious and ridiculous. I stood in front of fences and barriers of ‘Guantanamo Bay’, with an open umbrella even though it wasn’t raining, and wondered how long it would take before the security guards came to arrest me. Probably they have all noted our faces and names, since we’ve been conducting some ‘suspicious activities’ around the American embassy for the past few weeks. We looked like a row of lunatics, in smart suits and shoes, holding up umbrellas and showing people the way.

The kind of things that goes on behind official events…

Saddam and Osama

Has to be one of the greatest satires I’ve seen in a long time.

Grades!

Grades are not everything, I know. But they help!

Just took a look at my grades online, and I passed everything! The papers I wrote I got (amazingly) high marks for, the exam grades I personally thought were so-so, but still higher than the class average. Thankfully for all the courses they take the grades for the papers and the exam, and divide evenly to get the final grade.

I was really worried. In fact, crossing my fingers as I clicked the 'view grade' button and stopped breathing in that split second the webpage took to load. And pheeeew... I did pretty ok, especially since I haven't been in the best of moods emotionally in the past month or so.

Just what I need to get me feeling a little better about myself, and to get me motivated to get some more work I've been saying to myself I should do.

Not so Sunny

I just chatted to my mum-friend, who's been having some rough times lately. She told me how my god-son Sunny has been acting really unruly and needy lately, and how she's been having a tough time coping. Like last night for example, he cried and cried for two hours non-stop for some reason, and they rushed to the hospital only to be told by the doctor that nothing is wrong. My friend felt somewhat upset, felt like nobody is taking her seriously and that people think she's over-reacting.

I listened to her, and gave her what little advice I know about babies. Sunny's been not himself lately, and has been really difficult, wanting to be held constantly, throughout the day, and night as well. My friend studies during the day, and the nanny takes care of the baby. When my friend comes home at the end of the day, she takes Sunny home and takes care of him till the next morning, day in, day out. Problem is in the past few weeks Sunny's been not wanting to sleep at night, which means my friend is unable to get much sleep as well. It's hard enough to do a master level study, so just imagine how it is having to master taking care of a new-born all on your own.

I sympathise with her completely, but somehow I feel however much I feel for her and her predicaments, however much I care and say that I care, it's still too little to help. All I can be is a listening ear, and a soothing voice telling her that it's all going to be alright, and little more. And deep inside I feel guilty that I can't be there and do any more to take away the stresses and strains on her.

I really wish I could do more... more than just silently wish them peace and harmony.

Wild geese chase

You are nice to them, but they peck you. You give them what they want, but they want more, and they peck you, again and again.

It could be people I'm talking about, but today it's geese. Had a little walk in the forest today, and thought it would be nice to take some of the old bread to feed the cold and hungry birds near the lake.

I approached slowly, and saw a duck couple swimming together. As soon as I neared, they neared me too. As soon as I threw some bread pieces into the water, they dashed toward the bread and were no longer a couple. It was every duck for itself.

Then came the crows, hovering above, croaking. A gathering swarm, almost darkening the sunset sky with their shiny black wings. And their croaks alerted the cranes, four of which silently tocuhed down in around me and stood tall on their thin legs and hoisted their long beaks. They dared not near me, and were ever so cautious. Even when I threw bread in their direction, they stood silent and still. Crows were braver and dove for the free food on the grass, getting there before the gray doves did.

Then someone alerted the gang of geese. And the suddenly air filled with loud, ever-louder cackles and quacks. A dozen, or three, a whole mob of them, started to run, hurtle and wobble toward me. The noise was unbearable, and I felt embarassed that I had disturbed the peace and calm that hung in the lazy dusking afternoon. As the gang of geese got closer, they spread their wings and lenghthened their necks, opened their beaks and hissed. The geese actually hissed, and perhaps even spitting.

I was too slow spreading the bread around. Soon enough the gang of geese surrounded me, and I was trapped, in the midst of loud hissing and ear-annoying cackling. And I was getting afraid. I trembled as I tore the bread slices into small pieces so that it would be easier for them to swallow, but the geese were not pleased. And peck they did. And it hurt, even through the thick of lining of my jeans, the attack of the geese hurt.

My saviour came, and the geese dispersed. Gracefully, the king of the birds, two snow-white swans floated by, stretched their long necks to see what the mob and fuss was all about. When they approached, all other birds shunned aside, leaving the way and water free for the swans to majestically pass.


I tossed the remaining bread on the ground, and fled.

'Mijn Vrijheid'

Over the last week or so I've been reading a book I bought something ago but never had much time to continue. It's been lying on my bedside table and collecting dust.

Finally now that I have some free time, and have been in bed sick, I picked it up again and it's hard to put it down again. It's the autobiography of Ayaan Hirsi Ali, perhaps one of my personal modern-day heroines and inspirators. I've written about her somewhat on my other blog, especially how she was 'chased' out of her position as a parliamentarian and out of the country in a witch hunt.

The book itself called 'Mijn Vrijheid' in Dutch ('My Freedom', but published as The Infidel: The Story of My Enlightenment in English), narrates her life until recently, on how she grew up in war-torn Somalia, and fled with her family to various countries, until she sought asylum around fifteen years ago in the Netherlands in order to get out of an arranged (Muslim) marriage. She vividly describes her struggles, conflicts and the pains and laughs she's had to endure as a child. From it all you come to understand that behind every (influential) person (listed as one TIME's 100 most influential persons of the century) are those moments and memories that compell them to strive toward and for what they believe in. In her case, it's the injustices and inequalities, that especially women have to endure, spread and maintained in the name of Islam.

Which got me thinking... wishful thinking, of course. All the horrible things I've endured until now, and still have to put up with, especially coming from my brother, will perhaps one day make me more sensitive to the world and its hypocrisies and injustices.

Of course, I'm not comparing the pains and suffferings of my life to Ayaan's, or any other person. I know my pains and miseries are perhaps trivial compared to what so many more around the world have to endure every single waking moment. And of course I don't dare to claim or dream that I'll one day be some great inspiration to the world,

but maybe,

just maybe I will one day be able to look back at my life now, my life then and think that these are the very reasons why I do what I do, and why I believe in what I believe in.