I'm not ready to forget

I certainly do not think I could ever forgive. Read his story here.

Deaths in this latest incursion:

Palestinian :: 158, of which 30 were children
Israeli :: 6. Two of whom were soldiers.

Yes! Yes! Yes! Go Anonymous!

On My Coffee Table

And now, we put our fingers back in our ears and pretend the Palestinian holocaust does not exist, that black is white, that right is wrong and wrong is right. I am still angry. I am still full of pain. I am still seething at the double-standards of world politics, at the acquiescing of Britain and the US to walking a path of appeasement and agreement that just plain WRONG, if not downright evil.

This post is ridiculous in its banality, but as the saying goes - life goes on. Well, so long as you don't live in Gaza...

So what mind-numbing, pretty common ground can I offer you today...

The accumulated debris of our days; a visible litmus of where we're at; the things I find regularly on our coffee table. These images would once have given me joy; but instead they stand as a stark foil against injustice.

Thieves, Liars, Murderers

This dead boy looks like my son. What crime did he commit to be punished like this?!

“Cowardice asks the question, ‘Is it safe?’ Expediency asks the question, ‘Is it politic?’ But conscience asks the question, ‘Is it right?’ And there comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular but because conscience tells one it is right.”
– Martin Luther King


"Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu said the army was prepared for a 'significant widening' of its Gaza offensive"... because, let's face it, it's election time and nothing makes a Jew more popular than when he kills a wog child. Netanyahu, described by world leaders as a 'liar' and who admit that even they can't stand him...

You are thieves. You are liars. You are murderers. Protest it as much as you like. Facts are facts. You are worse than animals.

Israel are state terrorists

You steal a land, you try to create an apartheid state, you demonise the freedom fighters who defended their home and you kill innocent children. Israel began as theft and returned as theft. You can lie to yourself, you can spin the news and lie to the world, you may even start to believe it. But truth stands manifest from error, and you can never lie to the Owner of the Day of Judgement.

If this is what your God demands then your morality stinks and I wouldn't worship a god that sick.

But truth stands clear from error, the pendulum will settle, "and he who does good even if it be the weight of an atom will see it then (on judgement day), and he who does evil even if it be the weight of an atom will see it then." (Quran)

Thieves, liers and murderers. You must be so proud.

Lest We Forget - a message to the Muslims

Today in the UK it is Remembrance Sunday. Every year on the Sunday nearest to the 11th November wreathes are laid at cenotaphs and memorials up and down Britain, and people, wearing their poppy with pride, reflect quietly, with dignity, those brave men and women who have made the ultimate sacrifice, who have given their lives, to defend us.

We remember the inhumane slaughter of WWI. We remember the valiant struggle of WWII. We remember those lives lost needlessly in Ireland, the Falklands, Iraq, Kuwait, and yes, Afghanistan and other places. Too many young lives taken, used now as mercenaries for the oil companies, duped into a life of a 'hero'. But genuine heroes, who had no choice but conscripted to defend our country, still live. They have been neglected and forgotten by their country and are forced to eek out miserable lives on pittance, relying on charity and selling their medals to get by.

Whatever your belief about war, and about the aggressive invasion of allied forces in central Asia and the middle east, those old heroes deserve our gratitude.

Today we remembered those who stood up and kept Britain free - our grandfathers who came home with tales to tell, and tales they could never tell. We reflected on the rights we take for granted which were defended to the death by those who's entire lives were defined by war. We remember those men and women who took it upon themselves to step up and do our fighting for us, who keep Britain a force to be reckoned with.

What makes me sick to my stomach is people who, taking the freedom provided by these heroes, make it their business to turn up at remembrance days shouting vile slogans and upsetting the peace. So-called Muslims who shout from the roof tops for Shariah law in Britain, who disrespect the proceedings, who turn a day of reflection into a political rally. To those angry young men ::

~ you are free to have your opinions because men and women whom you seem to hate have laid their life on the line to give you that freedom. A dog would not bite the hand that feeds it, so why do you sink lower than an animal and bite the hand that keeps you free?

~ the Qur'an orders you to lower your voice, and do be like those who bray like an ass. Muhammad (Saw) never raised his voice - and when he caught people doing so would say, 'lower your voice, you are not calling on a deaf Lord'. Where then do you get the permission to shout and be vile given that Allah and His messenger have forbidden it?

~ Islam does not accept machiavellian principles. Never has, never will. The ends do not justify the means. No way. Either BE a muslim or get out. If you want people to become Muslim, then start with yourself! Hypocrite! You bray like asses without any dignity or beauty - you bring utter shame on the rest of the ummah until the kufar begin to think it is the fault of our prophet. You humiliate yourself, but more, as ambassadors, you humiliate your Rabb. Shame on you.

~ if this country is soooo bad - why are you here? Leave. Find your tribe of angry young men and do what it is you're good at. The whole of the "muslim" world is full of screwed up tribal idiots braying like asses - take your pick. Oh wait, they don't have free health care, education or dole money... guess you like it here more than you think, right? If the West is so bad, put your money where your mouth is and just leave. You'll be back.

~ you love shouting and protesting. Goto another land and see what happens when you protest there - not only will you actually have something TO protest, but you'll see where your delusions of importance get you if you tried to do there what we let you do here.

~ you do NOT represent Islam. You do NOT represent Muslims. You are frustrated, angry young men with no power and no future who have nothing to offer except hatred, and a voice like a demented donkey. If you had anything else in your life you would be doing it, but you don't. You are sad and angry and lonely, and probably unmarried and certainly on your way to divorce if not. Get. A. Life. DO SOMETHING positive with your life. I don't know - how about - practice Islam properly and get some peace. But do NOT take it upon yourself to talk for me or my friends, or the rest of the ummah. You are lame no-hopers. If you only had half the grit and courage of true heroes who you lament, you would be somebody.


I love being a Muslim, I am more than proud (and utterly thankful) that I am British. I won't have either spoiled for me.

An Inane Post

Forgive me whilst I ramble; forgive me as I let off steam. Again.

Most days I try to blog the pretty bits of our days together, and in between all the mess there are without doubt many beautiful moments to our days. But that is not all. Oh no, that is not all. Because of course there is the other stuff too - things I don't share, try to ignore, gloss over with optimism and brush under the carpet for the sake of my sanity. And most days that works.

But today, and for the past week or so, I have been bubbling with resentment.



I am tired; despondent; fed up of trying to see the glass as half full when actually some selfish asshole has drank the last drop. I am tired of pretending it will all get better. I am tired of having to wear rose-tinted glass instead of having a real sunset to colour my world.



I am stuck in a rut; we are penniless, beyond broke, and it's never going to get any better. I am stuck in this two-bedroom house the size of a postage stamp in the ghetto and it's never going to change. Short of an absolute miracle things will not change.

Add to this fact that, even if we were earning money we couldn't take a mortgage and you will understand how our horizon is basically the edge of cage.

I am tired of handling the lion's share of the work around here. Really tired of being taken for granted. Tired of the fact that I settled for so very little. I am just so tired, and unable to see the payoff.

My laundry lies in piles throughout the house in a vain attempt to get dry (with the onset of winter laundry takes daaaaays to dry in the house... and hey, let's sit and read and share a cup of tea under a tram line of moldy underwear...yeah). The ironing pile, which has amassed over weeks, oh who am I fooling, months, stands waist high. The cutlery and plates lie on the work surfaces because we have no cupboard space. The fridge door panel has fallen off, the washing machine drawer can't be opened unless you have a screwdriver, the toilet cistern is leaking, mold grows behind damp wardrobes, the garden... oh ignore the garden, and I have no space to store anything.

I don't even know why I'm bothering to write any of this. I don't even know why I bother blogging; it's so vapid.

I'm just tired and bored of everything. And I'm tired of lying to myself to get me through the to-do list.

Forbidden Fruit

There is some irony in the fact that I find myself wanting an iPhone - the Apple of my own centre of existential angst - that which tempts me from my Eden.

As someone who has set her stall at opposing the absurdity of modern life this represents a pivotal test. And for the record I already have a mobile phone, an iPad, laptop and PC, as well my DSLR camera (which I truly love). But most of those purchases were bought without conscious contemplation, some of them were given to us (as they were considered a dinosaur) and one was inherited ...

On the one hand we have the 'dream' ('dream', as in 'non-reality') - the lie we are told of a glorious future full of manmade gadgets and gizmos. These make our life easy and pleasant and pleasurable. They free us from work and allow us leisure time.

On the other you have the cost - the cost of human life and the cost of cold, hard cash. Because there is no such thing as a free lunch; anyone who thinks there is is either a child or a moron. The cost of the dream-lie is immense. And like the pitch poured over a mangy camel the truth is cleverly hidden behind a shiny facade.

Technology trades on desire, because in reality it is almost never really needed; it is only ever a lusted over. It tells us it will keep us connected, keep our finger on the pulse, keep us up-to-date, but instead of holding onto the reigns we are pulled off the horse and dragged along at a rate of knots as we are sucked into its vortex of endless possibilities, endless information, endless data, endless frivolities. There is no end to this black hole of never-ending choice and noise. And instead of keeping a finger on the pulse, it becomes the pulse. We forget what the starting point was; we lose ourselves. We find days gone by sucked into Angry Birds or twitter. Don't get me started on Facebook (and now they tell us it is a sign of psychopathology to have no Facebook account. Priceless). What was once normal is now backward. What was once abhorrent is now de rigueur.

These devices which are meant to keep people in touch can also be the source of severence. We can spend so much time with virtual life that we miss the real thing.

Then consider the cost of those who make these things; the slavery of the worker paid pennies to work meaninglessly long hours, and so miserable are they that safeguards have to be put in place around the factories to stop workers committing suicide. To buy into this dream I have to put the boot on someone's face; I have to be complicit in another person's slavery.

But so strong is the desire to buy into this dream-lie that I can almost imagine these things as untrue; I can almost rationalise the suffering away. A shiny, white new toy for the child in me that wants Christmas at her fingertips twenty-four hours a day, no matter what the cost.

It is only by actively stopping myself and thinking about these things that I prevent a tragedy - I stop myself from buying into the lie and return to a path I have chosen - one of simplicity. Perhaps it will never be perfectly walked but I hope that I can make more right choices than wrong. I hope that I tread gently on this earth, and that when I die it can be said of me that I was one of those who did very little harm.

And I am not anti-technology - there are many aspects to our lives that need it, of course. But I reject mindless consumerism; I reject needless technology which drains our resources; I reject unethical companies who do not adhere to fair-trade. I reject the constant need to upgrade, to homogenise my life experience to be sold or diluted into a mere lifestyle, ready to be branded and sold again; the need to keep up with the Jones'. I reject an inauthentic life which agrees with the need to slow down, reduce the carbon footprint of everything I buy, buy fair trade, but still does it anyway. Because if those who care don't make a difference then where will difference be made?

Oh goodness I could go on and on about, well about everything. This world of ours has been bought out beneath our feet and we are all sleep-walking into the meat-grinder. Our lives are so precariously balanced and even though we know it we do nothing.

They say that all it needs to start a revolution is for each and every one of us to change themselves. That if you want to see change in the world, be that change. And like all great leaps for mankind, they start with a single step. So I make a pledge to simplicity, I stop and make each of my choices authentic rather than reactive. And I try to walk that walk. And I've compiled a checklist - the stop, amber, go checklist before I buy or do anything. It's not amazing, but it works::


Like it? Then have it. Here is a download printable for you to share. Pass it on. If you can think of any other considerations that should make it onto the list please leave them in the comments section below.

For me, I am just tired of being dragged down a path I don't particularly like. I'm opting out. I'm making authentic decisions and conscious choices. And slowly, I am letting go of all unnecessary things in my life.

~ If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem. ~

Does Being Me Offend You?

We need to talk.

I'm fuming. I am not angry but I wanted to write to get a few things clear, out of my head and into the world.

A few things about me ::

I am Muslim, yes I am. You may have noticed that. What you may not have noticed is your own reaction to that fact. It's OK. We're all different. I don't expect a radical Hindu to love me or what I am. I know some Christians are offended by my existence, like a slap in the face (you don't believe in the crucifixion?? Oh poor Jesus, how COULD you - and you walked away from salvation to join the devil's cult.... horror!). I know that what I am draws a line in the sand and quick decisions have to made about which side of the line you stand on.

I believe in One God, and I couldn't care less what you believe in. I couldn't really. But what I do care about is how my children are raised and how my children are treated. I do not want them growing up to be christian, or hindu, or buddhist, or wiccan or secularist or atheist. I want the best for my children and in my opinion that means raising them as Muslim. That is not up for discussion or negotiation.

So what does that mean on a practical level? Well, it means that we can't eat at picnics when we're with a mixed group if there is meat, pork or alcohol present. We don't join in Christmas parties. Every so often we have to stop, wash and pray no matter where we are. In Ramadan we fast and as my children get older they try to fast a little of the day too.

There will be other considerations as my children move into adulthood about where they may socialise (nowhere with alcohol), and with whom (unless we are out with and as a family then we segregate to let our hair down). There are other little details and considerations and decisions that as practising Muslims we have to make every day as we live in a non-Muslim land. And if this seems insular, it isn't meant to be; it's just a practical repsonse to certain needs.

These are not up for negotiation either. So if that bothers you, jog on. If what you think as an 'exceptable muslim' is one who gives up their religion and beliefs to fit in with your party scene then you will not find that here. So long as we are not breaking any laws of the land we will exercise our freedom of conscience and speach and movement and live the way we think is right. Just as you do.

Do what you want if it makes you happy; you to your religion and leave me to mine, but on NO account rattle my cage unless you want to take me on. Do not accuse me of being anti-christian (unless just not being christian is enough to be accused of this); do NOT give my child the hairy eyeball, just don't; don't tar me with the brush of your own sick imagination and call it 'truth'; do not tar me with the brush of another Muslim you may have met; if that Muslim was on TV then double that; DO. NOT. TRY. TO. CONVERT. MY. CHILD. BEHIND. MY. BACK, you utter lowlife scum, unless you want me to have a go with your kids and see which religion they think makes more sense; if your religion can only sound plausible when mine is gone then what does it say about your faith? Do not expect me to give my way of life up for your convenience, as you then hide behind facile platitudes of, 'I'm not racist, I love multiculturalism' as you quickly extradite your children from the presence of Muslim filth; I will NOT be your scapegoat. If you don't like Muslims just say so, admit it and move on, but do not blame me for your shortcomings, prejudices and intolerance.

Oh and if you have an issue with me why not stay and say it to my face and wait for my reply you pathetic excuse for an adult, instead of accusing me in public then flouncing off you utter miserable fool. You really, really, really have issues.

Isn't it a shame that these things need said?


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EDIT :: People have been emailing to ask what this is all about. So a quick summary - on a home educating yahoo group this blog was accused of being anti-christian by two women before one of them left the group on account of me being present. I found this hurtful and shocking, but moreover I found it defamatory - had the words used been 'anti-semitic', 'racist' or 'homophobic' I could have had the police knocking at my door. As it was I felt wrongly accused. After several attempts at polite dialogue failed by stonewalling techniques, and after several requests of finding out where the offending elements in my blog were so that I could remove them were met with no answer, I, fuming, wrote this post. To you it may seem over the top. But maybe if you've ever been publicly slandered you'd understand. My name has been tarnished. I am not anti-christian and I ever never said anything offensive about any religion. That's not how I roll. I also decided to get some other things off my chest whislt I was here ;-) But the long and the short of it, is you can't go around slandering people and playing the 'race' card whenever you've got an axe to grind. That is why we have defamation laws and why the Courts take slander very seriously. All a man has is his name, and reputation is a hard thing to make and an easy thing to trash. I'm alwas reminded of Arthur Miller's Crucible when things like this happen.

But after receiving no reply, explanation, dialogue or apology I now leave it in the hands of Allah, the universe, karma, ultimate justice - whatever you want to call it. What goes around comes around. It really really does. They've just undone their own selves. Which is a pity.

The Work We Do

A few years back I had a homeschool blog, devoted to what we 'did' all day. It eventually fizzled out due, in part, to the fact that I felt like I was justifying our homeschool journey a lot of the time by trying to make what we do all day seem educational and inspirational.

It isn't. A lot of the time is spent in mundane things. I know that everything can be an opportunity for learning - everything. And yet, there are some days that all I want to do is hook the kids up to an IV drip of TV and go back to bed. But of course I don't. Because, for one, we don't have a TV and secondly, I have a conscience... but not everyday is spent frolicking through the mountain-tops singing 'Doe a Deer' and 'The Hills Are Alive'. Some days it's all we can do to get through to bedtime without getting a divorce and stabbing each other.

I lost interest in trying to defend our choice to have our children educated by ourselves. I got tired of trying to prove my children's capacity to learn. Most often the work we do is not inspirational; it is crappy worksheets. And sometimes the worksheets are the best part of the day.

Sometimes I get lost in the insanity of it all; the need to compare my children to 'schooled' children; the worry if we are doing a good enough job; the fretting that my children would have a much better quality of life if they were in school with all the mod cons that schools offer....or even just away from ME giving them such crappy things to imbibe and mirror... some days Valerian tea doesn't cut it and my worry extends into anxiety....

But then I stop and look. I notice the positives in this insanity. Or I call a friend and they talk me down off the ledge. And I don't sweat the small stuff; I see the big picture again.

This work we do is bigger than a score sheet of test results; it is bigger than a person's eventual tax return. It is person forming, family forming. This intense life is where we forge people, relationships, to form links, one at a time, to make memories, to make a HOME.

They say it is easier to raise strong boys than to fix broken men and it is an overlooked and much maligned task, this raising of a generation, this building a home and forming men. But if society is made up of children grown into power-wielding adults then there can be no greater task than this.

Perhaps my children will never have a bunsen burner, but they will have all the love, all the attention, all the time spent making their childhood as wholesome and as healthy as nurturing and as merciful as we can muster. We will, by the will of God, try to make their memories happy ones, their childhood a sweet refuge, a role model for their own parenting, because they know, despite our short-comings, that we each would take a bullet several times over for these muppets. And I suppose, when it all comes down to it, knowing you are that loved, that you are that worthwhile bothering over, knowing someone has your back at all times, at all costs, that that is heavier on the scales than anything else on offer.

And sometimes I need to tell myself this more often.









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My Sugar - Coated Whiney Post

Here is a saucer. It is old. It is vintage. It is made of china and has a flower on it. It is thrifted and I bought it on a whim to go with my pincushion cup which is also old and vintage and made of china which doesn't have a handle because I'm retarded and break everything and I broke this several years ago when I just started sewing and blogging and then put my pin cushion into the cup and thought I was a freaking genius. Yeah, that cup.

So this saucer goes with my pin cushion cup and yesterday I hot glued some really strong magnets underneath it. And now... it is a pin dish. Yeah. Stone cold genius. I bet you wish you were me.





Ta Da.

OK now for the whiney part of the post, these whines may or may not be related but if I don't rant here I may have to scratch someone's eyes out so why not let off steam here ::

*Deep breath*....

Firstly, I would like to tell all perfect wife, mother, crafter, business women who blog nothing but professional looking poster-boy shots of their children, baking and making that I actually think I hate you. Just stop it. Stop. Stop pretending, just do one post where you let us see how insane you are on the inside. Please. Stop also mentioning the social status of your partner as if you think this rubs off on you. It doesn't. It makes you look desperate. And I know you think your kids are cute, but some of us don't. In fact some of us take one look at your baby and wish someone had slapped the midwife, OK? Yes even the ones that look like a pin up of the Ayran race. No way your kids look that clean. Please tell me they eat worms and dirt like everyone else's and shove magnets up their nose. Not because it makes me feel better, but I just would like to think of you going insane as you try to keep them clean for the photoshoot of them picking a dandelion.

If you are also one of those bland robo-moms who preach your religion at me (even if it's my religion) all that goes double. Bite me.

Secondly, make a mental note - just because I don't bite back doesn't mean I've forgotten or forgiven your nastiness oh you of internet trolling/bitching society. You are ugly from the inside out and most of you are ugly from the outside in. In fact, one or two of you look as though you've fallen straight out of the Ugly Tree and hit every branch on the way down. You may wear your ignorance and bad manners like a badge of honour for all your thick cronies to pat you on the back as they bray like donkies waving their pitch-forks in the air like some demented comedy strip off The Simpsons but that doesn't make you any less repugnent. The fact that you cannot see how stupid you are shows how stupid you are.

Trolls who wear down bloggers and make them remove posts that most of us would like to read thankyouverymuch - one word : karma. What goes around comes around. I just wish I could be there with my camera when your's comes to bite you on the ass. It's coming. Oh yes. It really is.

Finally, but by no means least - I am going batsh*t crazy in this insanely small house. I can't do it anymore. I can't live in a house this small and pretend I'm happy. I'm not. Two small bedrooms and kitchen/diner/study area the size of my arm span and a bathroom you can place both palms on opposite walls. It's killing me. I have no space to move. Everything is piled up. If I want to open a freaking door in this house I have to move like three pieces of furniture and a mountain of laundry. If two or more people are in the same room we have to negotiate where we want to go and the other person has to move out of the way as we do-si-do around the freaking furniture sideways. I swear I scuttle everywhere. I'm surprised my children know how to walk straight. Even crabs don't scuttle as much as we have to. I know. I know I should be grateful - I know I could be living in a central reservation of a motorway in Calcutta eating Witchetty grubs and bark (yes I know Witchetty grubs aren't found in India. F*ck off) and compared to that scenario I am indeed rich and blessed. I know. OK, I know. And if one more person who lives in a proper sized house tells me to be grateful I think I may have to spray obscene remarks with weedkiller on their lawn. I know I should be grateful. So why am I instead stressed out and suffocating?

I am beyond trying to think postively. I am literally going insane here. I could pound both my fists into the ground in rage. I feel like taking a baseball bat and smashing every effing thing into dust and then jumping up and down on my husband's head. ... ... OK I feel like that anyway, I don't think that has anything to do with me going batsh*t crazy.

So. That in a nutshell is my angst this week. And probably the next too. If anyone can buy me a house or a valium I would be much obliged.


Do I feel better? .... a little. Sorry you had to read that.

NEXT!





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