Old School

Shaghlaat akala 3alayha al dahru wa sharib.

• saying 'sarookh' or 'p-tshooou' when you think someone is lying
• van dome madri vin doom madri van damme ely b layla gallery
• teseki3 bel salmeya ray7een radeen - ayam ma kanaw yeshtaghlon 3al ishara ely 3end mojama3 shaaha o tdakhlek 3end marks spencers/marina
• threatening with "thalath jemsaat emfawla" .. not two, not four, lazim 3 GMC'at wela ur just bs'ing
  
• samraat bo 7anan
  
• wetha ent kelish imwaly, mix taw7eedat
  
• baskot kabten majed - ely feh sowar (or smthng) wel le3ba ely habaw feha b sibat hal baskot .. goes something like this: u 'bet' some of your pictures, supposedly for a 'rare picture' (4 cards for 1?), then you and your 'opponent' go at it by trying to 'flip' the cards/pictures (laid on the floor, u 'strike them' with ur hand) .. those which flipped are yours now .. so on and so forth .. madri, shay chethy
• teseki3 b saikal bo gaary 3end masafi6 'koleyat el tejara' .. 3izz o rabi 3izz
  
• 3abdelwahab b hazzard
  
• ta'jeer gowaary bo 4 towayer bel khairan
• dam elsalfa sarat 3al khairan .. eldowaarif yam Kubbar
• o ham dam elsalfa lel7een 3al khairan: putting your 'manhood' on the stake bel Rothtain if you didnt jump mn a3la nagaaziya
• khaarba khaarba.. bel khairan, waiting for a group of girls to take an aisle for bowling and then going to play near them (heads up for el khamma: 4pm)
• mo7agig konan (or conan)
• tasjeelat dimeerah
• lel7een baly bel khairan .. le3bat el "boksaat", betting you can score over 138 (ma ansaha) in 3 tries
  
• sleep overs (cousins?)
  
• egzooz bo 7anafeya
• 7adeegat il she3ib
• sheghel ely ent etkalem flana, o weld khaltek yekalem bent khalat-ha
• aw ent etkalem flana, o sa7bek yekalem rifeejat'ha .. sagilny 3ad bel 7anna
  
• dreaming about an LX ("fol-lagma" 6ab3an) as the ultimate ride
  
• trying to convince il imghatreen 3end dakhlat markaz sel6an ena u have family inside on weekends
• or trying to convince them that ur friend is actually ur cousin who is emarati/ba7raini/se3odi/e3mani/eg6ery o wida yet3asha bel ma63am fog .. 7abakat?
• talefon bashaar ("bedon aryel" .. kanat moseeba hathy)
  
• 'composing' new tones b 'kitkat'
• el tha7ka ely bel ghaseb te6la3: hahaaay (cinema, masra7eya)
  
• tazweer shahaadat
• not just nicknaming cars, lah yarait .. but also going the whole 9 yards and making a sticker/painting the car to make it more obvious (i3yal mishref fahmeen gasdi)
• teweyil bel gowaary
• agdam? wendy's
• neo geo .. side soccor, side kick soccer.. shay chethy
• "sonic vs mario"
• which is to say: 'naaytendo vs seega'
  
• street fighter .. 'shenshen aboogid', o nesait shkena nesami "sonic boom" .. shay aghba mn 'aboogid' ohwa akeed
  
• watching ila aby wa omy ma3a elta7eya (i think thats what its called)
• clapping in the cinema lama ykhalis el filem
• yelling "ayshaaaaaaay" lama yeg6e3oon lag6a bel filem, or 'shda3waaa'
  
• commenting on a scene bel cinema
  
• keeping an eye out for il aflaam il hendeya .. btw rani look-alikes/rani sound-alikes, "fi majaal?"
• actually, considering 'fi majaal' as a line worth saying
• thinking that racecar paintjobs 'balwa'
  
• going even further back in time, considering 'ay wa7ed emghater' as "mo7taram" o "seeda"
  
• listening to 2pac and not understanding a word
• NANA (the 'more mature' of you will know what i'm talking about)
• ayam ma kan il 'gaz' sij 'gaz' 3ala "shari3 el khaleej"
  
• thinking that el derasa bara = 24/7 partying
• caring about embarayaat elqadseya wil 3arabi
• caring about embarayat el kuwait wil se3odeya
• te3ebith belgaid
  
• ya 6ayib elgalb / elsad wel hejraan / ya naar sheby / men tekoon .. you get the idea
  
• gaz bel range rafi3 el keshin 7ada (ba3th elnas, salemly 3al maserati el zaity)
• nafs salfat gaz el range, bas b discovery
• i remember a time when only hotties drove discoverys
• jandool el madeena el tarfeeheya
• "il 7essin" bel madeena el tarfeeheya
• "sayaratda3mon" bel madeena el tarfeeheya + il khairan
• come winter, lazem puffed sport coats (even if it's 20 degrees outside)
• i remember a day when "mothee3aat il lbc" kanaw 'shay'
• motaba3at kas il 3alam b shagaf .. o laah etseer za3al etha fareegik engalab
• mais elghanem ely kan 3end villa moda
• ta7weela

And a lot, lot more which I can't remember right now.

حتى الموت

Speechless.

All I can say is: bomb away. This will only strengthen the shee3a's faith; as well as strengthen the ties between the shee3a and sinna scholars. Bomb. Away.

Some of the Iraqis - I refuse to call them 'shee3a' - in consequence to the bombing have raided into MUSLIM - "sunni" - mosques (27 reported), killing three MUSLIMS.

The bombers of the shrine - I refuse to call them 'muslims' regardless of math'hab - have been going at it ever since Iraq's 'de-Sadamization'. Mo awal mara, o la7ad yeges 3ala 3omra, mo akher mara.
We all, I hope we all, though I doubt it, remember the bombings in Karbalaa' over the past few years as an example.

I am, however, optimistic due to the somewhat-immediate 'response' from el maraji3 il shee3iya in Iraq. I just hope that those 'idiots' who raided the "sunni" mosques realize that they are no different from the 'idiots' who have been bombing the shee3a's shrines.

-

But of course, just like what happened with Il Salam 98 (as one recent example, remember?), il thaher ena there's a difference in the perception of the death/killing of a 'Muslim' as an 'entity'; and 'those innocent lives who went to work and were blown away', or those who borded a train on a 'tragic morning', so on and so forth. I'm not talking about the media, I'm talking about the people. You.

I'm not saying one is okay and not the other. On the contrary, events like these break my heart. I for one regard them all to be copies of one another. No difference whatsoever except in the parameters of time and space.
These events, as tragic as they may seem, have always been the 'trademark' of our 'era', so to speak. What really rips my heart out, and that which I consider to be the real tragedy is the fact that 'most' people choose to percieve one event as 'something', and another event of the same nature as 'something' else. Gelt'ha akthar men mara o ra7 arid agoulha, 'humanity' 3ala nas o naas.

Too early for me to say so? Shoufaw i3lamkom o i3lam ghairkom.

Sheno ya3ni itfajer b egbour? Ay 7eqd hatha, ay karaheya .. ay maskhara 3aysheen feha e7na b hal youm.
Istenkaar resoomat, 7abaayib lai ehny walaw feh nemaayen madri shlon gayla estaktherat'ha. Yalla, khal neshof al7een ballah. I have to do nothing to prove my point, I just have to sit back and see it being proven.

"La 3ady shda3wa 3ali, 7oreyat raay o ta3beer tara enta fahem el mawthou3 ghala6." Golouha ba3ad, 3ady ma e7na akhathna o ta3awadna o sheba3na 7achi mn hal ashkaal il waskha.

The Loop

He sprung to lay back, pushing the back of his hand against his face. His knuckle pressed on the tip of his nose as he sucked in the air. With his other hand, he wiped the tiny drops of water on his left temple; and with two fingers brushed back his damp hair all the way to the tip of his ear. Just out of the steamy shower, and wrapped only in a black towel, the bruises on his chest were visible courtesy of the contrast created by the shadows. All across the left, back until his shoulder. He sealed his lips and sucked in the sorrounding air.

He looked at the glass table across, just under his knees, surfacing on the black marble. He leaned in to his wallet, extracted the transparent, sealed, small bag. In the corner of his eye he caught the LM cigarette packet. Gently opened the transparent bag. Tilted it slightly towards the table, and tipped it from its open mouth. He pushed the back of his hand against the tip of his nose again and inhaled. Hard. Clearing.

From his wallet, he took out his platinum credit card, leaning towards the table and alligning the substance. The screech of the credit card against the glass table deafened him. He brushed the tiny hints of powder on his black towel with the back of his fingers, and shifted his sight to the table again. Watching his hand shift the almost-weightless substance into a straight, thin line.

When he got out of the shower, he turned off the lights of the master bedroom. The 750 square metered house he bought, owned, in cash, by the time he was 32 years old, one year ago, was dead silent. The boilers switched off after cooling down, the buzzing died. Now all he could 'hear' was the faint light emitting from the lamp near the master bed behind him. He looked to his side and saw his great big shadow projected on the 5.5 meter high wall, excluding the decor, covering the what-seemed-to-be a hanged portrait. It illustrated himself standing behind a chair, with his hand firm on someone's shoulder. Or were his hands resting on the chair. The shadow looked over him, and he stared back. Judging his shadow. Noticing that his shadow was pitch black, with no shades to account for the bruises on his chest. While somewhere in the room, the light bounced and only highlighted the bruises on the left side of his chest. It was almost as if he intended to be seated in that particular angle so that his bruise can account for his whole being. What is seen of his being at least.

Reaching for a twenty KD note from his wallet, he folded it across and ripped it in perfect symmetry. He flicked one half across the couch and rolled the other half professionally. Almost squeezing the air out creating a vacuum in between. The same air space/vacuum which doubled for a passage. A bridge between his reality and his dreamland. He tapped the cylindrical torn twenty against the table to even out its edges. Both sides.

Leaned in to the table and pressed one side of the paper against the bottom of his nose. Struck the other nostril with the knuckle of his left hand, placing the left elbow resting on the table. Inhaling the dust off the table professionally leaving a line of two faint parallel brownish lines on either side.

He sprung to lay back, pushing the back of his hand against his face. His knuckle pressed on the tip of his nose as he sucked in the air. With his other hand, he wiped the tiny drops of sweat on his left temple; and with two fingers brushed back his damp hair all the way to the tip of his ear. Just out of the steamy shower, and wrapped only in a black towel, the bruises on his chest were visible courtesy of the contrast created by the shadows. All across the left, back until his shoulder. He sealed his lips and sucked in the sorrounding, filthy air.

تاغد

Jobs I had/never did

1. "monasiq idary", 6al eb 3aini 'monasiq' o 6al eb 3aini 'idary' .. kela saa7ib
2. "mo3eed be3tha" bel handasa, ma shefna el mo3eed bas shefna el be3tha - kela saa7ib
3. khaldiya counts in part because I helped engineering guys cheat on their 123 final while proctoring, kesabt fehom ajir so that counts
4. the summer course, however, doesn't count lena sa7abt all through it but showed up at the final exam with no excuse - perks of being 'supervised' by a woman :thumbs up:

Movies I can watch all the time .. a lot

1. Casino
2. Heat
3. Boiler Room
4. The Godfather II (young Vito's story especially)

Places I lived in

1. Kuwait
2. UK landan - stuck during il ghazo
3. UK inyokasel - stuck "studying" now

Place I want to live/work in for a year:

4. Dubai

TV shows I love:

1. nip/tuck
2. OZ
3. the shield
4. entourage

Cities I have been to (in order to mostly carry shopping bags)

1. landan
2. idbay dar il7ay
3. sterling
4. mash'had

Websites I visit

1. 6speed
2. ferrarichat
3. site "blackboard" il ghabi taba3 jam3ety il ghabeya
4. torrentspy

Favourite Dishes:

1. marag la7am .. ayab3idy wallah
2. "deyay noura" .. noura is my aunt's maid, a great woman
3. steak w/ mashed potatoes .. "yammmah"
4. chicken ceaser salad .. gazezni fridays ya 7amod yaly ga3ed tegra bas etsawi ro7ek ma tadry 3an my space

Places I'd rather be right now .. co u n t l e s s

1. in a porsche
2. in a corvette
3. in a ferrari
4. dowaneety

طبيب قراح

I haven't done a 'realistic count', but I can imagine that the largest number of 'educated people' I know are doctors. Medical doctors. That makes me a very compassionate person.
Because I really do feel, and tell that I am 'sorry for someone who wastes the best years of life studying'. That seems to make all of the MDs flip.

It's not that I don't appreciate the hardships MDs go through. That is, if you consider studying and a closed-circuit social life as hardships. But what really makes me feel 'sorry' is the amount of time and effort being invested in that career, when really there isn't much to look forward to. In Kuwait.

Everytime I get into a discussion with one of my family or friends who are MDs, they get to tell me the same two things. Over and over again. First, that being an MD is not about rewards, it's about doing something good and saving lives. More or less a humanitarian career. I, personally, don't see the relevance since a policeman or a fireman can tell me they save lives. Or seat belts, if they could talk, could be saying the same thing. That makes the tailor who puts the final stitches on a seat belt a humanitarian too. Okay I'll stop now.

Second, my dear MDs go on and on about how they are the ones who discover cures and how they are the ones with the never-ending careers and that there is always something new to be learned. Seriously? In Kuwait? Which brings me back to my being compassionate and understanding; my dear MDs have been so caught up with their books that they do not appreciate the reality of their future-work places, or its adminstrations.

However, this could have something with the fact that il dowaneya tekon fathya lama ily yadrison 6ib 3endehom imte7anat. But I doubt it.

حال الدنيا

Lifting his left shoulder, he tilted his head to the side clutching the mobile in between his ear and the rest of his body. In his right hand he held the glow-radiating lighter of the car, with a piece of his mother's finest bukhoor chips in his left. "Eeh kany mesafat il 6ereej, wain il shabab?", he asked the bukhor chip, talking into the phone and staring at it burn. He pushed his shoulder forward slipping the phone down to his thigh.

He placed the lighter upside down near the gear, and looked into his mirror to find the ghetra tilted to the left. He backed the car up, turned the wheel in the other direction and propelled forward. Looking to his side, he saw a young woman in a white dress, leaning to his side and reaching for his arm. He looked into the mirror again, pushed the ghetra to the side, and looked to the passenger's side side mirror to switch lanes. The seat was not occupied.

He soared down the highway and made himself comfortable leaning backwards. This was going to be one very very long ten minutes. He reached for his mobile on his pearl white dishdasha and placed it near the ashtray. He looked to his side again to check if the girl in the pearly white dress was seated next to him again. She was, only this time she was wearing beige. He reached for her hands. At that exact same moment, a speeding SUV overtook him and he flew his right hand to grab the wheel. There was really no reason for the instant panic. He was just lost in his thoughts. He reached again to his right, but touched only air. He looked to his side, and saw no one.

His phone rang. Picking it up, he saw both the name and a photo of one of his friends. "Ya taa3ebny," he answered, "ee shway o ousal, betdeshon yimee3?" He changed lanes again, and he could almost swear the girl was sitting next to him. Wearing a grey skirt. That's all he saw, not the shirt not the-anything. The grey skirt only. His friend's recurring "Aloo.. tesma3ni?" reminded him that he was on the phone. "Eeh yala, ne6rouny 3ayal."

The car slowed down to a halt at a traffic light. He looked to his left at the group of girls in the Land Cruiser. He looked to his right, passenger seat empty, and looked at the Z71 truck with two guys overlooking him; and looking at the girls in the Land Cruiser. He looked ahead and waited for the light.

Sensing an object in the corner of his eye, he looked down to his phone near the ashtray, and saw her long legs covered with a long, black skirt. He looked up and stared at the familiar face. Straight into the transparent and non-existent eyes. He saw the truck leap forward, so he moved his car too since obviously the light was green. The Z71 overtook his lane and slowed down for the girls in the Land Cruiser to come and parallely escort them. He looked down to his hand and saw her hand over his. He looked up at the truck's license plate. The girl's hand was gone. So were her legs, so was her skirt.

He took the exit and entered the area he was supposed to meet his friends in. Two minutes later he saw the crowd of cars opposite the jam3iya in the parking lot. More than ten, less than twenty guys were all clad in white deshadeesh, white ightarr and white sandals. They motioned for him, apparently saving him a parking spot next to them.

He proceeded to where his friends were standing, and fitted his car in between the two white lines. He stared at the building next to the jam3iya. He returned the lighter into the socket near the ashtray and picked up his phone. Making his way out of the car, he was met with one of his friends smiling sympathetically. He smiled back. After the greetings, his smiley-friend pushed him slowly away. "Zain yeet," the friend said, "kent shaak bel saalfa ma hagaitek tiyee."
He looked over his shoulder to the group of guys finishing up their smokes, "nisseeb", he told his friend. "Imsh nasbeg'hom."

As the group made their way across the street, he looked back at his car.
He thought he saw a girl in white waving, with a grin on her face.

عجيب أمرهم

So-called islamists get on my nerve just as much as so-called liberals do. For one thing, they both call themselves things that either do not exist, or that which they do not fully understand, respectively.

An islamist? There is no such thing. A member of the Salaf, or a member of the Ikhwaan 'movement', perhaps. But there is no such thing as an 'islamist' person, or group or whatever. Itha il mas'alah i6laabah, there is only the noun Muslim, and nothing else.

In Arabic, there is الفكر الإسلامي, الفقه الإسلامي. الشريعة ا لإسلامية. But to assume that there is a الفريق الإسلامي just goes to show ignorance.

I say to 'assume' because the so-called islamists need to fully appreciate how they make fools out of themselves by 'nicknaming' themselves that. And I think the other group of knit-wits, the so-called liberals, need to understand that there really is no such thing as an 'islamist', let alone refer what the so-called islamists have to say back to islam.

Silly example to illustrate how silly both islamists and liberals are. I am a Kuwaiti. I want to differentiate myself from all Kuwaitis, so I go ahead and call myself an Mitkatwit (or something as pathetic). Other Kuwaitis would then acknowledge to my naming, and then some. They would refer back everything I say or do to Kuwait. When they themselves are Kuwaitis.
Seriously, how fucked up in the head have you got to be to miss that?

For the most part, it's either a Salafi, or a member of Il Ikhwaan. And that is what everyone shall call them by.

And, please, if it were that any kind of 'ikhtela6' is forbidden in Islam, you wouldn't have had rab il 3alimeen sub7aanah "allow it" in Makkah, for example. A little common sense, everyone.
As far as the others who refer everything these so-called islamist knit-wits have to say to il Islam; do yourselves a favour and remain silent. You are only insulting yourselves.

طرطنقية

Just because something is not forbidden does not mean that it is encouraged. In fact, the two have absolutely nothing to do with one another. Sure, it is there. But the question is why do it aslan.

Yes, I am talking about the pathetic valentines day. To my understanding, it is a day of chocolate and flowers on the surface; yet supposedly it has a deeper meaning. A day of love. A day of recognition. And letting the people you love know that you love them. Or some other sort of sorry excuse. Read my lips.

Fuck. That.

I'm not even going to bother with the cliches: "Oh but you don't need a single day annually to let a person know you love them; love is not something you say, it is something you show silently"; not because it's a cliche or anything, rather, because there's no such thing as 'love' as it is defined by valentines day in the first place.

Tell you what. Keep the chocolate, keep the flowers, drop the red, and drop the - sad attempt of an - act.
Just don't regard it as something 'annual' and ... something to do, I guess? Yeah. Don't.

Yes, it does have to do with the fact that OUR .. days (?) which are for the most part greatly connected to events in our religion - en sa7 ilta3beer - are looked at as not so 'joyful' or an 'event not to look forward to'.

That's due to one very simple reason. Lacking understanding of what OUR 'celebrations' - en sa7 il ta3beer - represent. Unfortunately, many people would regard them as social duties.

- "Waaaih ma ri7t il soug, mn lah khelg el za7maaaa al7een"
- "Maly khelg ashoof iflaan mn el ahal"
- "Malal yam3awad en3a6il lena cham youm o ma nesawy shay, bas 3ala 7a6atna malzoumeen b izwarat"

Don't even get me started on the "3ayaady" part of things. Point is, a number of people have forgotten what our 'days' represented in the first place.

Habaab'hom "bashouf shkether ye7ebny", wela "babayen eny a7eba" wel sakhafaat il zayda wel miyaa3a il zift ely gayem soug'ha hal yomain o kelman yeshaji3 el thaany.

-

Allah yer7omek ya Rafeeg ya 7areery.
In one year, 6a shsawaw o wain ewsalaw khawaat il .. eeh. Laken lal7een mossireen 3ala ena "laaaaa hathy akeed sowalef el mokhabarat el sooreya, la la akeed".

خلق(أو يخلق؟) من الشبه أربعين

I'm not sure if this has to do with me, personally, or with the people I come across; but a lot of times I just have to associate a face with someone else's. It's only pathetic when you think someone reminds you of someone else, but you just can't remember who exactly. In all other cases, which are the more common, it comes pretty easily and instantly.

But then again, I also associate accents. Voices, I don't do. Only accents. I'm pretty sure I mentioned this once about one of my professors last semester, a Greek. She talks like Arnold. Sounds harsh, but anyway.

While on the subject of my professors, I have to say: men make better lecturers than women.
Women can either bore you to death. Or bombard you with irrelevant material in a hour session that would usually take me 3 years to actually study. That's if I ever did 'study' in the first place.

But then again, boring you to death and bombarding you with (useful) knowledge is pretty much the same. O lena mn zeman mo gayelha: Fuck institutionalized eduaction.

So anyway, meet my two male professors.



The Finnish guy has a somewhat-uneasy-to-say-what-it-is exactly accent. Probably a Finnish accent of English? Shdarany awal mara a6ob 3end "Fen Landi".

Looks like the twin brother of this guy -->

Tawny shayef 'The Specialist' mn cham shahar, and to get this guy's name I had to go through the cast name and check one by one. 3AASH ELY YERED 3ALA EMAILATY 3OGOB ... lail7een ma rad 3ala emailaity.







The other professor is a British chap. Ridiculous overdone 'british accent', a lot like Hugh Grant. No fuck that. A lot like Tony Blair perhaps. You get the idea.

<-- This guy is Tiff Needell. Used to be a co-host of TopGear on BBC (only the best TV show in the world if you must know), and now is a host of 5th Gear on ... madry some british channel. Not as much as a 'twin brother' of my professor, but definitely related.









The two female professors.
Since one of them is French, she reminds me of all those silly English-second-language French peeps accent. She's the one that bores you to death. It's not personal, she just can't present in an interesting way. That's if she had something interesting to present in the first place.
The American can talk about a boring subject for a lifetime and never shut up. Le3nebo darich theba7teeny as'ela 3an types of research. Shayfa wayhi entay 3ashan tese'leeny 3an types (or was it methods) of research.

I'm talking about school because this is the first time since August 2004 that I get nervous. Fifty percent passes, anyone? Like the poem/song/saying/not sure goes: " Madri sheno madri sheno, dalooni madri meno madri meno wain "

One Woman in Islam

Here's a woman. With her brothers, cousins and nephews slaughtered before her eyes, she was now the one responsible for the wives and children of 72 martyrs. That's seventy two families. All widows, and orphans. One woman.

So-called 'men' have already set fire to their camp, forcing them to wander in the desert running. So-called men chasing little children robbing them. No fathers or big brothers to fight back. Only one woman.
As if that were not enough, she also had to keep an eye on her ailing nephew. The sole male survivor, whom the army has mocked for his sickness and thought it would be a 'waste' to kill him now.

Here's a woman. Forced to see her family's bodies trampled upon by horses crushing their dead chests. Unburied, she was forced to watch her family's bodies all over the desert; as she was forced to go to the city her father once ruled. That same city that her father was also assassinated in. In his prayer.

One woman whom had kept seventy two families intact all across the desert, was lead into the city.
The crowds gathering to watch, you can imagine the kind of noise made by a city's population. Not when this, one, woman is present as it so appears. One woman that somehow kept a whole city silent. Dead silent as she started;

الحمد لله والصلاة على أبي محمد وآله الطيبين الاخيار
اما بعد يا أهل الكوفة، يا أهل الختل والغدر، أتبكون فلا رقأت الدمعة، ولا هدات الرنة، انما مثلكم كمثل التي نقضت غزلها من بعد قوة انكاثاً، تتخذون أيمانكم دخلا بينكم، الا وهل فيكم الا الصلف والنطف، والعجب والكذب والشنف، وملق الاماء، وغمز الأعداء، او كمرعى على دمنة، او كقصة على ملحودة، ألا بئس ما قدمت لكم انفسكم ان سخط الله عليكم، وفي العذاب انتم خالدون

أتبكون وتنتحبون، اي والله فابكوا كثيراً، واضحكوا قليلاً، فلقد ذهبتم بعارها وشنارها، ولن ترحضوها بغسل بعدها ابداً، وأنى ترحضون، قتل سليل خاتم النبوة، ومعدن الرسالة ومدرة حجتكم، ومنار محجتكم، وملاذ خيرتكم، ومفزع نازلتكم. وسيد شباب أهل الجنة الا ساء ما تزرون.

فتعساً ونكساً وبعداً لكم وسحقاً، فلقد خاب السعي، وتبت الايدي، وخسرت الصفقة، وبؤتم بغضب من الله ورسوله، وضربت عليكم الذلة والمسكنة

ويلكم يا أهل الكوفة، أتدرون أي كبد لرسول الله فريتم؟

وأي كريمة له أبرزتم؟

وأي دم له سفكتم؟

وأي حرمة له انتهكتم؟

لقد جئتم شيئاً اداً، تكاد السماوات يتفطرن منه، وتنشق الأرض، وتخر الجبال هدّاً!

ولقد أتيتم بها خرقاء، شوهاء كطلاع الأرض، وملء السماء، افعجبتم ان مطرت السماء دماً، ولعذاب الآخرة اخزى وهم لا ينصرون، فلا يستخفنكم المهل، فانه لا يحفزه البدار، ولا يخاف فوت الثار، وان ربكم لبالمرصاد

Her ailing nephew, heartbroken, asked her to stop.
Leading her into one of the palaces, she maintained her cover. She now saw the head of her brother, in the hands of the so-called Ubaydala Ibn Ziyad. As he was fiddling with the head, in front of the orphans and women, he took notice of one particular woman. Covered yet maintaining presence, silent, as I would imagine in sorrow for her brother and the memory of her family scattered all over the desert. Turning to his side, he asked, 'Who is that woman?'

Zainab, he was told, Zainab the daughter of non other than Ali. Taken aback, he proceeded;

Ubaydala:
الحمد لله الذي فضحكم وأكذب احدوثتكم

Zainab:
انما يفتضح الفاجر ويكذب الفاسق، هو غيرنا

Ubaydala, mocking:
كيف رأيت صنع الله بأخيك وأهل بيتك؟

Zainab:
ما رأيت الا خيراً، هؤلاء قوم كتب الله عليهم القتل فبرزوا الى مضاجعهم, وسيجمع الله بينك وبينهم، فتحاج وتخاصم فانظر لمن الفلج يومئذ ثكلتك امك يا بن مرجانة

Reminded by his mother, a woman of vice, Ubaydala was humilated in front of his men. And no family to defend her, he as if has thought that the 'manly' thing to do now was to proceed in hitting Zainab. Only the man to his side, Amru Ibn Hurayth had stopped him. I can only imagine it was from the fear of her now dead family; but the memory of their heroism, which to THIS day stands, has probably filled Amru's heart with fear although physically absent.

Here's a woman. That had just made a leader speechless in front of his men. In his palace. What else could he do but send her all the way to Syria. To meet his commander, the so-called Prince.

Only it was not any different in Damascus. Zainab Bnt Ali was also covered and sorrounded by the woman she was taking responsibility of. Yazid, the so-called prince, had also asked 'who is that woman?'. He said;

لعبت هاشم بالملك فلا خبر جاء فلا وحي نزل

Zainab, from her cover, started;

الحمدلله رب العالمين وصلى الله على رسوله واله أجمعين
صدق الله سبحانه حيث يقول

ثُمَّ كَانَ عَاقِبَةَ الَّذِينَ أَسَاؤُوا السُّوأَى أَن كَذَّبُوا بِآيَاتِ اللَّهِ وَكَانُوا بِهَا يَسْتَهْزِؤُون

اظننت يا يزيد حيث اخذت علينا اقطار الأرض وآفاق السماء فاصبحنا نساق كما تساق الأسراء، ان بنا هواناً على الله وبك عليه كرامة، أمن العدل يابن الطلقاء تخديرك حرائرك وامائك وسوقك بنات رسول الله سبايا قد هتكت ستورهن وابديت وجوههن تحدو بهن الاعداء من بلد إلى بلد، ولئن جرّت علي الدواهي مخاطبتك اني لاستصغر قدرك واستعظم تقريعك واستكثر توبيخك لكن العيون عبرى والصدور حرّى الا فالعجب كل العجب لقتل حزب الله النجباء بحزب الشيطان الطلقاء ، وإلى الله المشتكى وعليه المعول في الشدة والرخاء فكد كيدك واسع سعيك وناصب جهدك فو الله لا تمحو ذكرنا ولا تميت وحينا ولا تدرك امدنا ، وهل رأيك الاقتد وايامك الاعدد وجمعك الابدد ، يوم ينادي المنادي الا لعنة الله على الظالمين فالحمد لله الذي ختم لأولنا بالسعادة والمغفرة ولأخرنا بالشهادة والرحمة انه رحيم ودود حسبنا الله ونعم الوكيل نعم المولى ونعم النصير

And some people thought that women in Islam were objectified? And some other group of people thought that women had no 'rights', or unfit? I ask: WHAT WOMEN DID YOU HAVE IN MIND?

If it were not for that woman as an example, who happens to be the grand-daughter of the prophet Mohammed PBUH (would you just look at those speeches?); if it were not for women like her, I wonder what other nonesense ضعفاء النفوس would have came up with and said about women in Islam.

That's one woman in Islam I know.

Who is it again that you were idolizing nowadays? Oprah, was it?

بأبي التي ورثت مصائب أمها
فغدت تقابلها بصبر أبيها

الحر الرياحي: أمقاتل أنت هذا الرجل؟
عمر ابن سعد: اي والله.. قتال أيسره أن تطيح فيه الرؤوس وتسقط الأيدي

".. a reminder of the blood stained field of Kerbela, where the grandson of the Apostle of God fell at length, tortured by thirst and sorrounded by the bodies of his murdered kinsmen, has been at anytime since then sufficient to evoke, even in the most lukewarm and heedless, the deepest emotions, the most frantic grief, and an exaltation of spirit before which pain, danger, and death shrink to unconsidered trifles."

Sir Thomas Adams. Professor of Arabic and oriental studies at the University of Cambridge. London. 1919. 'A Literary History of Persia'. Page 227.


"In a distant age and climate the tragic scene of the death of Hosein will awaken the sympathy of the coldest reader."

Edward Gibbon. British historian (considered the greatest of his time). London. 1911. 'The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire'. Volume 5. Pages 391-392.


"Hussein accepted and set out from Mecca with his family and an entourage of about seventy followers. But on the plain of Kerbela they were caught in an ambush set by the ... caliph, Yazid. Though defeat was certain, Hussein refused to pay homage to him. Sorrounded by a great enemy force, Hussein and his company existed without water for ten days in the burning desert of Kerbela. Finally Hussein, the adults and some male children of his family and his companions were cut to bits by the arrows and swords of Yazid's army; his women and remaining children were taken as captives to Yazid in Damascus. The renowned historian Abu Reyhan al-Biruni states; ... then fire was set to their camp and the bodies were trampled by the hoofs of the horses; nobody in the history of the human kind has seen such atrocities."

Peter Chelkowski. Professor of Middle Eastern Studies. New York University. 'Ta'ziya: Ritual and Drama in Iran': New York. 1979. Page 2.


"Then Hosein mounted his horse, and took the Koran and laid it before him, and, coming up to the people, invited them to the performances of their duty: adding, O God thou art my confidence in every trouble and hope in all adversity! He next reminded them of his excellency, the nobility of his birth, the greatness of his power, and his high descent, and said 'Consider with yourselves whether or not such a man as I am not is not better than you; I who am the son of your prophet's daughter, besides whom there is no other upon the face of the earth. Ali was my father. Jaafar and Hamza, the chief of the martyrs, were both my uncles; and the apostle of God, upon whom be peace, said both of me and my brother, that we were the chief of the youth of paradise. If you will believe me, what I say is true, for by God, I never told a lie in earnest since I had my understanding; for God hates a lie. If you do not believe me, ask the companions of the apostle of God, and they will tell you the same.'
They asked: 'What hindered him from being ruled by the rest of his relations'. He answered, 'God forbid that I should set my hand to the resignation of my right after a slavish manner. I have recourse to God from every tyrant that doth not believe in the day of account."

Simon Ockley. Professor of Arabic at the University of Cambridge. 'The History of the Saracens'. London. 1894. Pages 404-405


"Hussayn fell, pierced by an arrow, and his brave followers were cut down beside him to the last man. Muhammadan tradition, which with rare exceptions, is uniformly hostile to the Umayyad dynasty, regards Husayn as a martyr and Yazid as his murderer."

Sir Thomas Adams. Professor of Arabic and oriental studies at the University of Cambridge. London. 'A Literary History of the Arabs'. 1930. Page 197.

عميد الحر عجب ينداس بالخيل
على اخشوم الزلم رغما نشيله
و كل مقتول تنهض ليه قبيله
تسل بيض السيوف اوتعتنيله
لعد المعركة والجثته اتشيل
العشيرة شالته بحّر الظهيرة
الكل منهم عليه شالته الغيرة
بس ظلوا الماعدهم عشيره
ضحايا على الترب من غير تغسيل

Eeeeeeeeeeeeih. Ziman.

سأمضي فما بالموت عار على الفتى

I wonder what it would have been like to be raised in a world where you are of the same flesh and blood of the greatest man to live. Ever. Period: the prophet Mohammad Ibn Abdullah sallaa Allah 3alaih w aaleh.

Why stop there?

I wonder what it would have been like to be raised in the home of Imam Ali Ibn Abi Talib, who by the way happens to be the prophet Mohammad's PBUH first cousin. And who, he himself (Imam Ali), has also spent all of his years in the shadow of the prophet PBUH. Raised and learned from the greatest man to ever live. I wonder.

Why stop there?

I wonder what it would have been like to grow up in the home of il sayida Fa6ema (Il Zahraa'), who, again, happens to be the only daughter of the prophet 3alaih afthal elsalat wel salam, the daughter of sayida Khadeeja. Oh and also who happens to be Imam Ali's wife. The same Imam Ali who was raised by the prophet PBUH.

Why stop there?

I wonder what it would have been like to grow up with having a brother and a sister from that family. The things somebody could have learned.

Oh wait a minute. Why should I wonder? Imam Hasan was his brother. Sayida Zainab was his sister too.
Oh wait a minute. That would make him too the grandson of prophet Mohammed 3alaih el salam.
The son of Imam Ali 3alaih il salam.
The son of Fa6ema Bnt Mohammad, and daughter of sayida Khadeeja 3alaiha il salam.
The brother of Imam Hasan 3alaih il salam.
The brother of sayida Zainab, and Om Kulthom.

I shouldn't be wondering, then, should I?

Since I know that his name was Imam Husain Ibn Ali.

It's a shame, really, that most people only know the day he died on; or whose army has killed him.

It's a shame, really, that most people do not know what has happened after that day. Or what has happened to who, why and how?

It's a shame, really, that most people have no idea what has led him to that place and time on which he died in the first place.

It's a shame, really, that most people do not know who was with him on that day. Better yet, what has happened to those select few who were with him?

I would have never wondered what it would have been like for someone to witness his brothers, sons, cousins, and friends to die for the same exact cause on the same exact day, if it weren't for my knowledge that Imam Husain has witnessed that.

I wonder what great cause could that have been, if it wasn't the prophet Mohammad's cause. Say, the message of il Islam?

If there was only one thing I would change about the world I live in, it would definitely be making sure that everyone knew who Imam Husain was then. Simply because, how can you EVER know him without knowing ALL of the mentioned above salam Allah 3alaihom ajmi3een. How could you ever know him, without knowing his cause, and whose cause it originally was.

ما تم .. ما تم لولاك الفرض يا حسين

Scientifically, (Political) Liberalism Does Not Stand

Logic is a tricky thing. It's just too logical for any logical, in the colloquial sense, analysis. Therefore, you have to tackle logic logically with what logical science has set already. Logically, the above sentence stands.

Meet P and Q, P and Q are not variables, they are events. Yes, they vary, but they are not, logically speaking, variables. They can be equivelants, they can be contradictions, they can be necessary for one of them to stand so you can figure out what to make out of the other. They can be many other things too. Or they can simply be nothing and have no relationship whatsoever, and a waste of everybody's time.

With that established, we say P and Q, since they are events, must operate in a universe. And universally speaking (in that sense), P and Q are seperate events from their copied events in every single seperate world. Worlds, therefore, are what defines P and Q for us. That is, it is essential that you absorb and have an understanding of the world (existing in a given universe) in which these events take place in before you can make anything out of them. Let alone relate them. Or, as I say, they may be a waste of time in a given world and exist spacially.

Intermission. For all you physicists, engineers, mathematicians, and of any other waste-of-my-time major, sod off if you were going to bring subsets and proper subsets into this.

Consider the following diagram.


In short, and I'm really going fast here, P and Q above can, not only co-exist, but even relate to one another in that given world where these two events can stand. Between the two, there exists consistency.
However, when we have the following. We know that there is a problem. A logical problem.






Yes, the two events P and Q exist within the same world, and therefore, logically, the same universe. But there is absolutely no possible way for them to both stand in a given situation. Logically speaking: in which they can both be true. Only one can stand. Logically speaking: not only are they inconsistent, they are in given situations contradictories. An exhaustion of possible consistency in a given situation where these two events can never coincide.

Therefore, logically, in both senses of the word, anyone resorting to the last diagram in his given two events is simply (again, logically) confused.

Now think of these three events, which can only be represented by P and Q at any given same time, in any given situation:

a- Il islam. Not religion in general. I SAID NOT RELIGION IN GENERAL.
b- Liberalism. Mafhom il liberaleya in Kuwait.
c- Traditions in Kuwait: il 3aadat wil taghaleed.

Note: Do not contribute if you lack knowledge or understanding in any.

السلام 98

Since I have made it pretty obvious by now that I believe in the invalidity of the constitution in our given space and time, which is simply motivated by the sayings and actions of "7aameen 7ameenna", ham ana manee me3terif eb ssar7ah o fa7waah just like the people who "put it" in the first place.
In addition to the following in the steps of kheeraat il sha3b il saadah a3thaa' majlis il oma il mowaggar, ham ana aby agool rayee eb meno yamsek ay wizara, and based on what I deem is fit.

Here goes, I want our ministers to all be less than 40 years of age. I also want them to be good looking women. I want them to be so smoking hot that I'm certain ra7 yektemil el nisaab in every single session.

Ministries that should go to men are: Il Awgaaf, Il 3adil.
Mo 3an shay ghair ena mo layeg wa7da me7lawa o wazeerat awgaaf aw 3adil.
Therefore, I do not want any MP becoming a minister simply because there aren't any babes in parliament. Yet. Aby ganoun entekhaab yedeed yegol eb saree7 il 3ebaara "only hotties are to run for the NA".

Nevermind whether they're shee3a, sina, bado, 7athar, aseeleen, beyasir, melyonaireya, madyonaireya, met3almaat, jaahlaat, met7ajbaat, sifoor, "taby masla7at el sha3b w tehemha 6abagat thawy il dakhl il ma7dod", or not; that is all out of the question. All I want is kel wa7da tegolek el zoud 3endy.

Ya 7abatha also if these ministers would change the employment policy and restrict male employees to the ministries of il 3adil and il awgaaf. The girls should all be good looking too. Therefore, modeer jehaaz il khidma il madaneya should definitely be a 20-something year old guy with not a care in the world on his mind.

The two male ministers kel wa7ed lazim yekon wa7eed omah o obooh. Mako sheghel, khaarba khaarba khal na3meeha.

If you think I'm kidding or I'm being ridiculous, you should look into some of what the MPs are "calling for" in the government-to-be.
Man, as rare as it occurs, I just love it when I'm right.

- Totally different matter -

I am appalled by the lack of any official aid to help out with the sinking of the carrier Il Salam 98. But then again, I am not at all surprised lena rabi3na are x's bitches and x's bitches only.

Allah yer7am ily ighreghaw o yissaber ahaleehom.

And I am only saying this TO BE PROVEN WRONG; not one single writer made a note at the end of his column t/yi3azy the Egyptian nationals in Kuwait. Don't mean it, just write it eksib or kesbay fehom ajir.
Oh I'm sorry, it's only humanitarian in certain cases and with certain people, innit?

مراوس

The long stretch of road ahead was paved with cars and young men of all kinds and ages. Mobiles and cameras were all raised to catch a glimpse of the vehicle and motorbike at the end of the road. The two had only the headlamps turned on, cutting back on everything that would even dare use the battery or some of the electricity.

On the other side of the road, the respective entourages of the two racers had their eye fixed straight ahead. They knew that before they knew it, this thing would be done and over with.

The two racers were talking about the "safety precautions". Basically it translated to: if one of us died in an accident tonight, the race is over and would not count. There's your PRE-caution.

The guys at the end of the road got the 'good to go' call. No police patrol cars roaming, and no traffic around ruining all the fun. Although sometimes some of the police offers would be 'cool' enough to actually block the street for a minute and sit in on the race. But that's another story. None of that tonight.

The two vehicles started bashing their engines, making all the noise it takes for everyone in the stretch to take notice and steer away. They warmed up the tires in a 5meter burn, and fixated again side by side. The rider of the bike strapped his helmet on, and cleared out his mufflers; the car next to him was also screaming as if waking up itself for its moment of truth.

Two seconds and eight meters later, the bike was on one wheel; its rider forcing his shoulders back towards the road, with his body balance fighting back the rapid acceleration. The car just a meter away one fraction of a second, and three meters the next was aching for traction. Once the tires gripped the road, the sprint began.

The two racers could both see the lights, or better yet stream of light, racing towards them. On top of all the sweet noise the engines were making; they could listen to the cheering that is almost 10 meters behind by the time it reached them.

Guys on the side of the road were leaning inwards to catch a glimpse of an estimate distance between the two. None to be seen.
The entourages at the end of the road were all recording. Closer to the 800 meter line now, one of them said to the other "ra7 tin3aad, dashat ilmeed ras ib raas". Before he could finish that phrase, the two vehicles were almost 30 meters behind him.

It was repeated. Twice.

اللهم صلي وسلم على محمد وال محمد

Everytime I forget what it was that made me certain this guy needed to get a life, he does it again.

Al7een saar "semo el shaikh sobaa7", wela "semo el shaikh eflaan" but when it comes to akram il khalg 3alaih il ssalaat wel salaam yesameeh "mo7amad" wela "il rasool" and leaves it at that. Mistakhserha o mestaktherha il thaaher. Same issue with "Il masee7" or "Ibraheem".

Ibraheem? Ibraheem "ma gairah" ely tegool waraa thekrek le esmah 3ALAYH WA 3ALA NABEYENNA el salaat wil salaam, ikraaman wa ijlaal? Laaken aah, o alf aah mn kelmat aah. Naas taafha.

Naas sharat el denya o baa3at il aakhra. Naas moyasara la mokhayara. Naas man6eg'ha o man6eg el zaany wel zaanya wa7ed.

Aiiih wallah o kobartaw yaa ahl el distoor, ya fetewwat el 3aalam el 7urr wel mojtama3 il madany, ya ommat el 7athara wel adab wel sana3 wel ta7athur wel fenoon wel dagdega wel zandaqa wel fandaqa o aah 3al wa7da w nuss wel enfetaa7 3al 3aalam wel tejaara wel aswaag el 7ora wel 7aflaat wel ssooulat wel jooulaat, rethaitaw destoorkom yemna3 il ta3aruth le shakhs Ameer il dawla, o fog hatha yekon lagabah b "semow", aw "sumow" laaken la yat 3ala ely LIL ASAF entaw, 3ala ameerkom, 3ala ahalkom, 3ala ahal ameerkom, 3alay ana, 3ala 6owaayfy FARRRRRRRRRRRRRTH - mo mn zoud sana3na kelna, wala mn 6eeb aselna - farrrrth ensaly wensalim 3alaaih laa mn thekarna esmah, tiseer el mas'ala "3ady 3ady mo illa".

Ma3rouf 3anik o adry feek yal faahem, yal daaris, yal waa3y, yal mullim, yal met7ather, yal metshadig, yaly o yaly.. Gilat il adab wel 7aya wel mista7a shlon gayla?

Fa ma baalik la sarat il mas'ala enek tet3arath le shakhsah, le resaaltah, le "o6roo7ta el fekriya" ya bo el fekir enta wel 6ar7 el man6egy wel akhth bel asbaab.

They think that it is the actual 'drawing' or 'mocking' that sets us off, and what would you even expect them to think BUT that?
Akh lo bas yadroun ena it is in regards to the DISMISSAL of what khataam il anbeyaa' Mo7amad Ibn 3abdilaah 3alaih afthal el salaat came with, what Mo7amad ibn 3abdilaah 3alaih afthal el salat wel salaam has set, has taught, has been sent to deliver. What he represents.

Akh lo bas yadroun ena ako 11 soura ghair hal soura ely ga3deen yetkalemoon feeha, laken wain thaak ely yeftehem sa7 o yadry sh ga3ed yekharbe6. Rou7 oboy tewakal ekteb, tefalsaf, "e7chi welak e7chi", wallah thum wallah eny khaayef 3alaikom akthar min ay shay thaany baacher b 3alam el barzakh; bacher b yom el 7ashir.

Ila chan ba3ad "hal sowaalef" khuza3balaat il awwaleen o "ra7at 3alaiha" wentaw bas ely fal7een ib hal denya o saydeen il 7araka.

Khirja, o raaaaaaas omy maahy gair khirja baitha ehya ely b takhthonha mn hal 7ayaat il dunya. It's not called "dunya" for nothing.