Sunday, April 30, 2006

I heart Ahmad Zahir

While I'm in the middle of finals (one down and a kabillion more to go), please enjoy Ahmad Zahir's music, the other video didn't work. He's the musical soundtrack to my childhood.

Wednesday, April 26, 2006


Home In Kabul --


A master of storytelling

'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Even our rappers are righteous

From a recent article about DJ Beshho:

"The people here are used to fighting but I teach against war, to not fight their brothers, to respect everyone. They should only fight with their raps, not their fists or with guns. The country needs teachers like me."

Even our rappers want peace...I guess if we have to have 'gangsta' rappers, I want one that advocates for peace.


As always, DJ Besho has the last word. "This one mullah came to me — he used to be in the Taleban and he was telling me what I was doing was bad. I let him try on some of my clothes and rapped to him, and he was won over."

I want to know who got won over so easily?


There is no doubt that DJ Besho is striking a chord with Afghanistan's young and he is so popular that President Karzai requested a meeting. DJ Besho, however, was an hour late and missed it.

Now that's ghetto!

Thursday, April 20, 2006

Revenge of the Bee

Dear Roomie,

There was a bee in your room this morning. I followed it into your room. I, man among men, attempted to kill it. I smacked it with my flip flop and then went screaming out of the room. It's either dead or really angry.

God bless,


Poems to enjoy while I go underground.

Alas, I am not joining 'la resistance'. Instead, I am preparing, taking and finishing finals. Catch you in a few weeks. I'll probably update a bit during some bouts of procrastination.

Speech to the Young : Speech to the Progress-Toward

Say to them,
say to the down-keepers,
the sun-slappers,
the self-soilers,
the harmony-hushers,
"even if you are not ready for day
it cannot always be night."
You will be right.
For that is the hard home-run.

Live not for battles won.
Live not for the-end-of-the-song.
Live in the along.

Gwendolyn Brooks

Where The Mind is Without Fear

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high
Where knowledge is free
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
By narrow domestic walls
Where words come out from the depth of truth
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit
Where the mind is led forward by thee
Into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake

Rabindranath Tagore

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

I Said To The Wanting-Creature Inside Me - by Kabir

I said to the wanting-creature inside me:
What is this river you want to cross?
There are no travelers on the river-road, and no road.
Do you see anyone moving about on that bank, or nesting?

There is no river at all, and no boat, and no boatman.
There is no tow rope either, and no one to pull it.
There is no ground, no sky, no time, no bank, no ford!

And there is no body, and no mind!
Do you believe there is some place that will make the
soul less thirsty?
In that great absence you will find nothing.

Be strong then, and enter into your own body;
there you have a solid place for your feet.
Think about it carefully!
Don't go off somewhere else!

Kabir says this: just throw away all thoughts of
imaginary things,
and stand firm in that which you are.


More info on the poet Kabir:

I like poetry and when I was looking for a nice poem about diaspora and identity to post on Q's blog (I didn't find one), I came across this website:

Monday, April 17, 2006

Zeba Watan

Saturday, April 15, 2006

Aren't they lovely?

Our tea cupboard and my blue panic attack mugs.

The Nascar Automobile is actually made of chocolate. PR (pushy room-mate, she gave herself that nickname) got it for her birthday. She needs to dispose of it soon or I might eat it.

Thursday, April 13, 2006

Thanks to my room-mate

I'm going to Afghanistan (Inshallah).

I quote, "I (room-mate) will push you on the plane to Afghanistan if I have to. You may hate me then but you'll thank me later. You've wanted this for too long. You can come back if you decide you don't like it."

I'm getting cold feet. Bursts of panic during which I conjure up alternate goals for my life, stay here, move to my U.S. hometown.

The bursts of panic happened again tonight where I started to ramble about my blue mugs that my cousin gave me and how I'll miss them so much. And the rest of my nice serving dishes (that either my mom or relatives have given me). That's where my room-mate called bullsh*t. I really will miss my dishes but...I have wanted it for too long. I have to at least try.

Deep breaths.

I have wanted it for so long. Before college (when I met my room-mate), before high school, before elementary. Is it every refugee's dream? I remember shyly telling a cousin, "I want to be a lawyer and go back to Afghanistan to fix it." I was 11.

Some wrong turns here and there, but I'm back to the goals of an 11 year old. Which is a good thing.

So, I'm going to Afghanistan, Inshallah.

On another note, you all can thank my room-mate for fixing the comment situation. I didn't realize that I had the comments on 'moderate'. That's been corrected and hopefully y'all can comment freely and with no moderation!

Thanks Roomie!!

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Proud to be an American

I will miss this. I went to the pro-immigration rally yesterday and it was wonderful. I forgot how inspiring it is to be around so many people who all are making a stand for social justice.

My friend and I met at Meridian Hill (or Malcolm X Park) and we marched off with the rest of the happy people. It took us two hours to march down to the Mall but it was awesome. Red, white and blue flags waved around by brown, red, white, black & yellow people. The diversity in this country is amazing. It’s our strength and we should treasure it.

I hope the U.S. Congress and people with anti-immigration stances are paying attention. I came to the U.S. as a refugee but the anti-immigration stance applies to me too. Just because I was lucky and privileged enough to be recognized as a refugee, doesn’t mean that I should forget others, who by twists of fate are considered ‘illegals’.

We migrants work hard, we are the backbone of society, and we deserve to be here. We demand our rights.

Thursday, April 06, 2006

They don't have bees in Kabul

Or, Bees and Technology

My plans for a morning of studying and efficient organizing are often thwarted. I often catch up with my friends in Afghanistan or other U.S. early risers via IM and chat with them until I realize that it’s time to go to class.

Today was the same, except I blame it on the bee. I walked in to my living room to find the largest, scariest bee I had ever seen. Fortunately, it was fuzzy bumblebee. Which means they don’t have stingers.

I shrieked, ran back to my bedroom and informed my two chat buddies (CB1 & CB2).

me: there's a bee in my house, brb!
CB#1: ? are you gonna run outside??
or kill it?
rather what have you done?
then again, if you've run outside this line of questioning is moot.
me: no, it's a bumble bee
me: i ran away and squealed
i'm locked in my room now and i have a window open
i'm hoping he understands what to do

CB#1 quickly found out that bumblebees do have stingers. CB#2 told me to not leave the window open for too long as other bumblebees may come in.

I started to sweat and nearly started crying.

I ran to the living room, swatted at it with a broom, shrieked, ran back into my bedroom and chatted with CB#1 and CB#2.



I finally swatted at it and dramatically pushed it towards the window. My hands shook as I closed the window. I don’t think it died. It was scrappy. It wouldn’t die when I tried to hit it with the broom.

I’m going to school early today.

Wednesday, April 05, 2006


Inshallah: God Willing

Bakhair: Whatever is best for you, similar to God Willing

Watan: Homeland

Afg: Abbreviation for Afghanistan

Too much booty in the pants: Just seeing if you were paying attention

Slow panic, creeping in

This last weekend, I helped two friends pack and move. The moves themselves were fine and a nice way to spend time with them. The only sad thing was saying goodbye to one friend who went off to Texas.

People shouldn’t move until I am ready for them to leave. Which will be never. I’d love to have all my friends, en masse, move to Kabul with me. We can all live in the same block and traipse around, saving the world and building little lives in the mountains.

They are all stubborn mules and won’t.

I’m sighing now.

At one point during the move, I stood up and was surrounded by brown boxes. That’s when I felt the slow panic creep in to my toes. How many boxes will I need?

Briefly, this was my train of thought: How the hell am I going to get my stuff to Afghanistan? And what if I have to become a refugee again? Don’t be so materialistic, just move with some clothes. Pack light. No, I want my stuff. I want my jewelry and books and more books. I need some comfort there. Why are you moving if you need so much stuff to make you happy?

I think I’m going to lose my mind.