a thousand splendid suns

This book was an unexpected present from Tim's family in Brussels. I have been meaning to read this for a long time and managed to get around it only recently. This is an essentially captivating book. I wish I had a talent to tell a story like Hosseini does. Old, traditional, reminiscent of the fairy-tales and fables. I wished I could craft words beautifully like he does - smooth, real and flowing. The book is a tale revolving around Mariam and Laila - 2 different women brought up in 2 different environments but entwined unwillingly in the same fate. A fate perhaps common to Afghan women. Hosseini makes it apparent that this is what his intention is - highlighting the plight of "women like us" in the opening pages. His skilled storytelling allows us to picture what daily lives then must be like. His characters may sometimes seem one-dimensional but as you read along, you see some sense of personality. There were times I felt this couldn't be the reality Afghan women had to endure. He makes it real, and it takes a hold on you. You feel for the characters. You get embroiled by your emotions - pity for Laila, hatred towards the misogynist, wife-beater Rasheed and compassion for hobbling Tariq. I enjoyed this book tremendously. I think you will too. I am currently reading The Kite Runner.

taxi drivers

Every weekday morning and sometimes in the evenings as well, my patience is tested. Every morning when I have to get to work and flag a taxi. Without fail. And when my limits are tested, my day is spoiled. With red dust sprinkled over my face, the smells of forgotten garbage along the roadside, I clenched my teeth, I breathed, hoping I'm not about to say all the wrong things when I hopped into the car. I confessed: Taxi drivers are the bane of my frustration here in Freetown. And I have taken a lot of taxis. And each day, I get the same deal, the same story. I go through the same hassles, leaving me very disgruntled. I keep asking myself: why oh why?

There are a variety of them. Sleazy ones, nice ones who speak politely to you, chatty football-crazy ones and so on. The ones I personally cannot stand are those who are are just plain rude and tries to ask you for more money. They will insist the fare is too small to take me that distance and I normally retort by saying that the price has been agreed upon. I tell them I'm aware of the standard rate. If you want a little more, it's fine by me. But not when you try to shake me off 10 times more because my skin colour differs from the average Sierra Leonean. Simply, I hate being ripped off because I'm a foreigner and that equates money.

Some people tell me to just pay the price. Drivers don't get paid that much and that money means nothing to me, some would quipped. That's not the point. It's a matter of principle. To be able to board a taxi without needing to feel constantly at edged, without having to yell at each other and all of that. Taxi drivers provide a service. People like me pay for that service. I pay him to take me from destination A to B. And if I choose to use a different route for a different price, we negotiate the price. That is fine. What is not acceptable is when drivers would argue and raised their voices at me trying and demanding to increase the fee to an absurd amount. There was an incident after work. I flagged a taxi. He asked a price 3 times more than I wanted to pay. I was already offering him a fee 10 times more than what one would pay for an average ride. I told him flatly that that's 3 times more than the standard rate. A guy across the road came over and told me to just pay the driver the amount I asked for. I snapped and told him to shut his bloody mouth up. He is not the driver. The driver, meanwhile sat there and pretended to look almost clueless, which is I must say is a pretty common look around this place. Unassuming, blank, nonchalant, ignorant. I am often disgusted by that look, by such am ambivalent attitude. They insisted I should hire him for an hour and pay the rate. I pointed out the fact that my house is a mere 10 minutes away. At the very most, in traffic, it will only ake 20 minutes. After 10 minutes of arguing and haggling, which left me very very annoyed and ready to spit in his face, I agreed on the price he wants me to pay. When he dropped me home, I gave him the money and told him to shove it up his arse. That's one problem with this country - almost every single one is fucking greedy. Right from the top echelons to the remnants at the bottom.

It's all about the money. I recalled someone once used to say that it's easier to say that when one has never been poor. Don't. Don't even begin to use that against me. Being poor has nothing to do with the need to be greedy and ripped others off in the most blatant way possible at any cost possible. Nothing excuses such a crooked behaviour. Nothing.

quiescence

There must come a point in one's life when things stood still and you begin to wonder where it is all heading. I felt this way sometime ago and it has been in my head for a while now. There are occasions when I fear that life is likely to fail me or perhaps more so the other way around. And there is nothing more heart-breaking than to know that such instances are possibilities waiting to happen. I am no pessimist but do in fact consider myself a practical optimist, if there is such a concept. There are limits to positive thinking, which I figure can only take you so far.

And I reflected on where this life and years have been for me. Some have been strange, some beautiful and many bittersweet. The past half a year in particular has been exceptional in its own right. Peculiar, memorable and frustrating. I have learnt a lot, about others, about choices and importantly about myself. I have learnt limits I can bear and how far I can really go. Many times, I have felt small and alone and very lonely. Other times I have conversations in my head that hurts and only ends up in confusing circles, round and round. In fact, there were moments I thought my existence mattered little to those I know. Simply, I felt I have been forgotten. I continue to feel like that sometimes. I avoid thinking about it but when I do, it's painful and it disappoints.

Yesterday I had this conversation both in my head and in person. Frustrations poured out, hard and fast. I sobbed, I cried, I had it to let it go. Months of anxiety, of stress, of bottling it up, of teeth grinding came out in unexpected bursts. I knew then I could not turned back upon that decision I made months ago. I have to go through with it. There are things I hold steadfast and I'm on the belief that when choices have been made, turning back is no option. I have to decide to change and make it better - if not for me, for both of us. I owe myself that chance - that one last trial. I told myself before I was lulled into sleep that I cannot let those little frustrations crawled back in, creating its nest in my subconcious self. I just cannot. And as I watched him go to sleep, all curled up, I am comforted for that moment, I know I will be safe and the seas won't be so choppy all the time.

Moving away to this life I know right now has been a rather confusing experience. While I don't regret any moment of it, I understood little of it still. I don't enjoy every moment but there are happy days. I am convinvced there is a reason and a purpose which I need to find. I spent a lot of time thinking about this, and at times, I thought I might have chanced upon something comforting but hardly the case. I have no connection to this place, no ties that bind me to anything here. I feel nothing for this place and little for what happened in the past. It is not my story. This physical land in my bigger scheme of things in life serves no significance. My only conclusion about this place: it has allowed me to discover the limits and potentials of my human capacity. I know what I can and will never want to subject myself to. I came here with no purpose and no intentions, with no reasons other than to be with my boy. It may not sound like a good reason but that is my excuse. And I have learned to find meaning and purpose in that.

I am twenty six and life is still hovering around my head like grey skies waiting to pour itself out. Where it is heading, I have no clue, but compared to other days, I felt something better today.

those crazy nights with my best friend, those routine deals we have, sitting by the roadside at ungodly hours of the day, the coffee at the bookstore, the dancing and the laughter... i miss you and i love you.. i am sorry when i am not there.