Searching for my voice

Hello World, how have you been.

Sorry i have been MIA on my blog for sometime but i wanted to share an article i wrote for the Women’s Majlis section in The National newspaper.

The article was published on Friday the 2nd of October and i have uploaded a scanned copy of it for you to read here. You can also read it on their website through this link .

This article was inspired by the current hype the UAE is going through with regards to the Federal National Council elections. When researching the candidates i found everything but what i was searching for, my quest to find a voice that represent me as a single woman on the council remained unaccomplished.

However perhaps my main inspiration was the fact that people are ready to SKIN women from humanity and treat her like an object that requires “fixing” of some sort.

I hope you enjoy it :)


Happy Reading.

What would my obituary read?

What would my obituary read?

Questions like this amuse me, unfortunately, however I wonder the things people would talk about in my funeral. I went to a funeral this week, a very interesting one shall I say. In this occasion I could hear conversation that made me feel like an alien for not sharing the same thoughts as my company on that misfortunate day.

No one mentioned the deceased girl’s educational achievements, life milestones, dreams that she strives to turn into reality, nor the obstacles she conquered.

No, the obituary would read something like this:

“H.B. Corporate slave, spinster, no children, no legacy. Heads in the clouds, and now under ground.”

Don’t even get me started about the discussion on the earthly possessions of the deceased.

“Oh she didn’t have any channels or louboutin because she believed in animal right, hah who was she kidding she just didn’t want to spend that much money”

“She must’ve been stingy in everything, who doesn’t have Nike just because she is against child labor”

Yes, why not, why don’t people believe that there are people with morals and ethical guidelines that they put for themselves? Why don’t they believe that many pledge themselves to causes of human and animal rights for life?

The problem is that we call for humanity, understanding, equality, acceptance and uniqueness but we don’t really practice it. We want people to believe in our purity but we don’t believe in their’s. we contradict ourselves when we ask people to accept us unconditionally while we don’t offer the same.

People, and by that i do mean you and me included, don’t always accept what is different than us. we don’t really like the “unorthodox” as much as we tell ourselves we do. We have a defined set of personal preferences that are customised to our liking and anything that doesn’t match that standard is just “wrong”.

If we analyse that funeral situation again, lets ask ourselves some questions shall we!

Why don’t people consider the smiles the deceased left on strangers faces, the joy she brought to her families and the roof she put on their heads her legacy?

Why didn’t they consider the written words of literature she left behind for the world to inherit her legacy?

Why don’t they consider the little sparks of inspiration she gave her Instagram followers and the unconditional love she had for the people around her her legacy?

Apparently the definition of legacy for the society and me never agreed with one another. Or the humans just don’t believe that genuinely good individuals exist anymore.

So to answer my question I would like my obituary to ready something like this:

“Banafsaj, Hobbit lost in the Human world, preferred the company of books and fictional characters over actual people. She traveled as many fictional realms as her mind could bare, and now resting in peace, expect her soul to visit you soon.”

نقطة انتظار

جلس الكهل يحدق الى صورته النصف ضبابية المنعكسة على زجاج غرفة انتظار الحافلة. 

نظر الى ساعة يده، الخامسة مساءاً..

يبدو العالم مظلماً اكثر من العادة فَخُيِّلَ له ان الوقت متاخر اكثر. 

لم تعد الدقائق تمضي كما كانت و كيف لها ان تمضي بعد وقع الخبر المريع على قلب الأب. 

وقعت عينيه على انعكاسه مرة اخرى و بدأت عيناه تلاحق ظلال التجاعيد التي أرساها الزمان على وجهه. كيف له ان يعيش و هو كهل، فماذا كان ينقص ابنه؟ لماذا؟ 

رددها بيته وبين ذاته الى ان رِن صدى الكلمة في كيانه و روحه 



قطع حبل أفكاره صوت دوي الحافلة معلنة وصولها الى المحطة ولكنه لم يستطع الحراك. بدأ يحدق في عجلة الحافلة وكأنه يقيس حجمها ويقارنها بالسيارات الاخرى هناك في محاولة يائسة لاقناع نفسه ان ابنه لم يعاني في مصابه. 

“لم يتعذب ابنك.” قالوها له. ردودها. توسدت كلمات التعزية جملهم التي لا بد لهم ان كرروها مئات المرات سابقاً. 

و عقبوا كلامهم قائلين انه قفز من السيارة و انحرفت هي الاخرى خارج الطريق و لانها كانت بعيدة عن مكان الحادث فإنها لا تزال في حالة جيدة. 

فتساءل بسخرية ماذا سيفعل هو بالسيارة ان لم يعد صاحبها في حياته؟ 

أنت أقوى 

يا سيدتي ابقي القليل منك بريئاً دثري الطفلة التي تنام في جوفك

دثريها، خبئيها و احكي لها اساطيراً

عن الملكات و سلاطين 
ضعي يديك على عينيها لكيلا تبصر شيئاً غير النور

ابقيها بعيدة عن حقيقة الحياة و مكامنها
يا سيدتي تشبثي بتلك الطفلة و ابقيها رفيقتك

فلتعيش فيك تلك المشاكسة والبساطة
يا سيدتي انت لست هامش الكتاب المهمل

انت الادب و الكلمات و الشعر و النثر و جمال الحروف

التي تنحتها الاقلام ويخط الحبر بكل تأنٍ تفاصيل فتنتك
لا مكان هنا في هذه الأرض لإمرأة ضعيفة أخرى

خارت قوانا في سباق الإنقاذ

كوني أقوى من ذاتك، أقوى من الهواجس التي تزرعها افكارهم فيك  
انت أقوى 

Day 99: Banafsaj 100 days of writing

What is this urge I have to sleep next to my notebook and pen. To always have them at the reach of my fingertips. To stay up after all lights are out, as my eye lids grow heavier than ever, but I insist to write, write something, write anything, I need the fume of paper more than I need air ,,, do you feel the same ?