Blessed Friday

Today is a good day. Alhamdulillah. I have a sore throat but I have my boys playing around me, husband snoring lightly nearby and plans to visit my parents in a few hours, insha Allah.

Awaiting us is a scene of chaos as my sisters and I respond to the only mandate my mother has ever decreed, Family Friday. A day we fill each other in, interspersed with shouting at our progeny who spend the day oscillating between heated disputes and hair raising antics.

I met a dear, dear friend of mine yesterday. We didn't even shake hands in greeting or in parting but automatically started talking as if it hadn't been six months since we last met.

Everyone speaks about the value of friendship but this true, unconditional, effortless friendship I share with this particular friend, is very dear to my heart.

I believe we all need that one person we can call at any time just to say, I'm feeling a little down, or share a moment of happiness with. That friend who will criticize you and challenge you but you know that it is only because they want what is best for you and they're cheering you on and will do anything within their power to see you happy and successful. A friend that will encourage you with the tone of their voice and the look in their eyes, more than their words. A friend that can tell if there’s something wrong by hearing it in your “Hello”.

Thank you, my friend. I am who I am today because I have you in my life.

As I pause writing to perform conflict resolution, I thank God that these warring little souls turn to me for justice.

At their age, time-outs and threats of unthinkable punishments are all that is needed to maintain the peace.

I know that I will soon long for these days where these scampering creatures, these mobile tripping hazards, apply "underfoot" quite literally. I know that I will miss the clinging hands and the octopus grips I wake up to. If I live that long. My life is in danger with these lethal bundles of joy. God bless them.

My husband told me he snored in our very first telephone conversation. This preemptive information, he says, forfeits my right to complain, having received fair warning.

He had to work late last night but still managed to surprise me with a beautiful bouquet of red roses and a package of dark chocolate. Happy Valentine's Day <3

My parents are a blessing in more ways than I could ever count.

The unique way they raised me, the strength they told me I had, the dreams that were never beyond reach, the solitude they understood I needed, all these were the most powerful tools any child could have. They gave me my own room at the age of 3, bought me an encyclopedia for my 10th birthday, and pretty much handed me my passport and annual tickets at the age of 16. What more could a girl ask for? May God bless you with health and happiness, Madre and Poppa, wa ya7fazkum leina.

I love the work I do, even if I am not always in love with my job or employers. I build buildings and get to drive around Khartoum and say, "I was a part of that". I might not save lives (although I do appoint myself in charge of HSE on site) but I get to leave a visible impact on my country, which is as fulfilling as it is egotistical.

Some days I am filled with despair for what has become of my country. Some days I fear the future and wonder what fate awaits my children in this beloved, abused land of uncertainty.

Today is not one of those days. Today is Blessed Friday. Today, is a day of love and appreciation.

Alhamdulillah.

Sudan Now, Sudan Then Part III

Our people have no drinking water, education or healthcare. I do not mean that we do not have government provided/subsidized drinking water, education or healthcare – I mean it does not exist in Sudan. Does not exist by virtue of the fact that the majority of Sudan has no access to them.

 

I studied in private schools during an era where private schools were a necessity for some (in my case, having English as a mother tongue). In this catholic school, I met my lifelong friend whose mother had sent her there, to create structure and discipline in the absence of her father, a national legend, who had passed away. Others came for other reasons.

 

When we were growing up (in the 80s), Sudanese perceived private schools as the place where students went after flunking out of public schools. I will show you here what some of our “public schools” look like now.

 

Public Healthcare? You may ask. Well, that would require public hospitals, one would assume. If your fate lands you in a public hospital, be prepared to bring your own gauze, cotton, injections, the works. You will require a relative to “donate” blood, although there is no guarantee that you will receive blood if required. (True story: Friend’s mom needed blood. Her daughter donated. Afterwards, blood bank stated that mom’s blood type unavailable. Daughter was universal donor, so just asked for her own blood. Blood bank refused as it hadn’t been subjected to mandatory testing. Daughter no blood, Momma no blood. Happens all the time. Welcome to Sudan.)

 

Services? Electricity is pre-paid in Sudan. One would assume that one could expect uninterrupted service since it was already paid for. In full. One assumes wrong. Speaking of prepaid power and public hospitals, recently, a public hospital went three days without power because there was no money to “buy electricity”. (While the Private Hospital owned by the Minister of Health had all the power it needed. Thanks for asking)

 

There is no standby generator in public hospitals, so if you are unlucky enough to be in the middle of an operation when the power goes out, we will pray for you in heaven, and know that you are in a better place.

 

Water? In the land of the Nile, those of us fortunate enough to have access to the outdated water supply network, are very often left high and dry. The day after giving birth, I was forced to drive to my parents’ home because there was no water in the house. (You will understand the ramifications and magnitude of this drive if you are Sudanese, and I bet one or two of you gasped).

 

Ironically, if there is no water in the house, there is a very large possibility that within a certain radius, there is an artificial lake gushing out on to the streets, rivaling Lake Volta.

 

So, what happens if you do not fall within water coverage? (This refers to almost everybody in Sudan, since networks only cover cities, and by no means is this coverage complete) You buy water, that’s what you do. You wait for someone in a donkey-driven cart, equipped with a rusty blue-painted barrel, and you contract him to fill your plastic jerry cans and tin buckets. The quality of the water is indescribable. Suffice to say that the source of the water is broken water network pipes or irrigation channels. Bottoms up.

 

So, I sit in my site office, building towers and watch workers walking in with shoes wired together. Because it is part of my job, I tell them that they cannot work without proper shoes. I tell them it is for their safety, for their protection – they tell me I am taking food out of their children’s mouths.

 

In a perfect world, their employers would make sure that they were fitted out, but in Sudan, the employers defect on their commitment and only those with shoes can work that day. I go make a scene, urging the contractor to do what’s right by his people, and he laughs, “They got to you? Melted your heart and you come talking to me.” Hitting people is bad. We frown upon it. Move on.

 

The joy when the workers get their shoes is heart breaking. They come to thank me for being their advocate. What breaks my heart is that they shouldn’t need advocates. They shouldn’t miss work because they were not given the proper tools. And, in this, lies the story of my country. We have reached a point where no one has rights. Everything is treated like some sort of gratuity.

 

You are SUPPOSED to make sure your people have food to eat. You are SUPPOSED to give people access to clean water. You are SUPPOSED to provide basic healthcare for your people. You are SUPPOSED to provide jobs for people with various skills (not mock college graduates as recent reports quoted the President stating that college graduates were unskilled and unhireable – translation: useless parasites).

 

Before this government, some people say our fathers’ generation was spoiled – primed with a sense of entitlement. They got the best education and healthcare for free. Truth is, the haves and the have nots were in the same quarters, lived the same lives. The differences were superficial and superfluous.

 

In the Sudan of today, the haves have food. The have nots have nothing.

 

I am a professional with umpteen years of experience under my belt. I walked away from a job in Dubai because I wanted to be part of building my country. I deserve to have a few bottles of perfume and the occasional facial. I deserve a vacation and the option to splurge on an “impulse buy”. My children deserve the occasional treat for being left alone while we seek the means to make school payments, rent and groceries. Disposable income. That quaint term. Wonder what that’s like.

 

However, since I live in Sudan, I see too much. I see the anemic look in the malnourished people on the streets, I see the people that have cracked under the unbearable pressure. I see the struggle of children working to feed families and women working desperately to subsidize their income, selling bed sheets and thermos flasks. I see the suffering, I see the pain and harden my heart so it does not break in two.

 

I will try to buy treats for my children, and turn off the AC in my car (taking advice from A Tree Grows In Brooklyn). I will not buy an anniversary present for my husband, so I can pay for the exam I need to take abroad. I will not go to the doctor this month because maybe the pain will go away on its own. I will give the money to the sick mother who needs to get well to take care of her children. I will have a basic breakfast, so the little girl in the ICU can get the heart scan she needs. I will not get a facial so I can pay for the kids’ school bus and give my husband one less thing to worry about.

 

I will do what I have to do. Our family will do all it can. But I wonder. When do I tell my children that the struggle I put them through was optional - not how it's supposed to be? When do I make the decision that as my country suffers, my family may have a shot at a better life? When do I close my eyes and heart to the hurt that is Sudan and become another refugee, a guest in a more accommodating land that may provide me with that most elusive of dreams, a disposable income?

 

This is my land. This is my home. This is my country. These are my people.

 

Cry, beloved country.

Sudan Now, Sudan Then Part II: The Moral Dilemma of the Middle Class

The point of this “blog thread” (for lack of a better phrase) that I started almost a year ago, was to point out what my small family is going through. Two working professionals and three small children and barely making ends meet. When I started, I wanted to write about how hard it is to afford a vacation or birthday gifts and reward the children with a “special” toy when the report cards come in.

I wanted to write about the struggle of buying shampoo and hair conditioner – and the perfume you wish you had. That was a year ago. Before South Sudan seceded (and we wish them luck on their new voyage) and before the economy of Sudan tanked. It didn’t “take a turn for the worse”; our economy did not “face sudden difficulties”. Our economy tanked.

The acceleration of the deterioration and inflation were swift, ruthless and fierce, as the day oil money was gone, the entire country learned a lesson in economics overnight. The oil that been pumping for most of the government’s 26 years in power was gone. The oil revenue was nowhere to be seen. Not in strategic projects, not in agricultural programs, not in the country’s infrastructure, nor in our educational or medical institutions.

The money was gone. All of it.

Not even the naïve wondered where it had gone. There was some speculation about how the Sudanese Government owned a complete “frond” of The Jumeira Palm in Dubai. Others spoke of towers in Malaysia and villas in Turkey. A few officials had purchased local apartments in the distinguished local “Misheirab” Qatari Project, spun the rumor mill.

This speculation may vary in figures and geography but they all came to the same conclusion. Sudan was broke. Sudanese officials were rich. Hmmm… (For the record, the President spoke on National Television, that livelihoods were in the hands of God, implying that the disgruntled were heathens).

The official rate of inflation over the past year was estimated between 40-60%. That is a large range but the truth of the matter is that it is not reflective of the expenses of the Sudanese citizen that have more than doubled.

What does an average family need? School tuition and associated transport expenses. School Sandwiches. Food. Breakfast at work. Filling up the car. The occasional household purchase. Detergent.

As our young family struggles to keep up with our middle class[1] needs, you can’t help but think of the other families. The single income, working laborer that has the same commitments as you. He too has to pay rent. In a country where public education is no longer free, they too have tuition, and too often, their children go without sandwiches. Prepaid power bills and talk of pre-paid water too. The children become malnourished. Then they are susceptible to sickness that cripples the family, attempting to pay for medical treatment, or accepting with heartbreaking resignation, the death of their child.

How can my country go on like this?

Cry, beloved country.

The well dressed man rummaging through the trash has become a familiar sight. The old man at the street light begging for change and the men of all ages selling tissue boxes on the streets. (I don’t get that; when did disposable tissues become a “must have” item for all vehicles?)

How has my life changed as a middle class working professional? Our grocery list has taken a hit but while we cut back on meat, they cut back on meals. We cut back on shampoo and imported detergent, they cut back on soap. We cut back on power bills, they cut back on power.

I find my struggle very real and resent the fact that it sounds bourgeois. I tell my children that we can’t go on vacation but they tell their children that there is no food, this night. I resent the fact that a country should provide basic living for its people, and anything more is considered a luxury.

It hasn’t always been like this. As a matter of fact, we can say that it has never been like this because this government managed to take an operating nation and turn it into an oil producing nation with the longest river in the world, and reward it with the dubious position at the top of the Failed State List (http://usatoday30.usatoday.com/news/washington/2007-06-18-failedstates_N.htm).

---

[1] Personal classification that is open to dispute, because if middle class means the average, then in my country, the middle class do not have basic human needs.

You Killed Our Students, You Killed Our People, You Killed Our Nation

University students were murdered last week*. Do you remember university? When you were technically an adult but still a child? I remember being a university student although I don’t remember how the years went by. I remember being full of hope and days filled with despair. Then more hope. Heated discussions of dreams and arguments about politics and ideas and schools of thought.

 

Today, university students are dead. Murdered by government forces. This brings me so much heartache. I think of the hope that their parents felt when they sent them off to seek knowledge. I imagine the students organizing a sit-in, staged to make a statement, wanting their voices to be heard. I can see them standing their ground as the “police” round them up, or their playful dash for freedom, that would make such a good story later.

 

The ones that were caught, knew they were going to be “slapped around”. Par for the course in the police state we have become. Then, I imagine their surprise when the beating became torture. I can feel their young hearts praying for it to stop, while the pain went on. And on. And on. I can see the confusion when the pain did stop, as harried forces decided to unceremoniously dump the bodies.

 

One child dying of torture may seem like a mistake to the feeble mind that ordered them “disciplined”. But how can they justify, even to themselves, the murder of two or three or four? There can be no mistake that this was murder. There was no holy calling to take these lives. They did not pose a security threat, nor were they enemies of the state. They were young men that were the victim of a system which gives power to cruel and twisted minds and silences those with minds that know what the world is supposed to be like. They might know this from innocence or intellect or philosophy or religion. They just know. This is not right. This is not how it should be.

 

They know all people are created equal. They know these equal people deserve basic rights of food, water, education, healthcare and security. They know that this land was rich and now it is poor. They know that a chosen few seized power and bled the country of its resources for personal gain, since Sudan has nothing to show for it. The ruling junta, in their desperation, has ceased to think rationally. In fact, they have even stopped pretending to pretend to think rationally.

 

In their famous “majaalis” today, what are they saying? Is there any outrage over the deaths of these children, that instead of being delivered to their families with honor, were left lying in a ditch? Or have they managed to find themselves a religious spin, to share among themselves, that they were forced to rid themselves of communists and infiltrators?

 

Is there no voice of reason among them to tell them to leave, that they have stripped this country of everything – land, resources, morality and lives?

 

We want accountability. We want justice. We want them gone.

 

This is not the first heinous act that this government is responsible for. Even if they say that an “isolated few” are responsible for the burning of villages or the deaths of Awadia, schoolchildren of Nyala and now University of Al-Gezira students, the truth is that they were never held accountable, therefore the collective responsibility remains that of this “Government of Salvation”.

 

Every day, the irony of the name they gave themselves in the summer of ’89 is raised. “Take us back to where you saved us from,” the people beg. “What carnage would you have caused if you WEREN’T trying to save us?” people ask.

 

They came to save us but they tortured us and drained us and bled us and threw us in a ditch. They will not let us live, they will not leave us be. They actively pursue the people to wreak more havoc on our lives. Right when you say things can’t get any worse, they do. We have reached the very depths of despair, and they tell us to take a moment, because they still have more digging to do.

 

Government of Salvation, what more do you want of this land? What more do you want of these people?

 

If you cared for this land, you would have enriched it. If you cared for these people you would have raised them up. The cat is out of the bag. You are fooling no one. Criminals straddling a distinguished position among the most corrupt nations.

 

If there are honorable men among you, then speak up. We have spoken, “The people, want, the regime, to go!” This chant has resonated far and wide among our fellow nations. It is time for it to be heard here. It is long overdue, but better late than never.

 

THE PEOPLE WANT THE REGIME TO GO!


*The Government of Sudan maintains that the deaths were not a result of criminal actions and the four boys drowned. There was also talk of an eel. Drowned. Electrocuted. Four boys. Swimming. In a ditch. After a demonstration. At night. (24th December 2012)

 

Consumerism on Al Jazeera's The Stream

The Stream played my video comment on their show. It is always validating to feel that your opinion matters.
It was a very good show (if I don't say so myself), with great discussions, that raise awareness about how much we are directed towards consumerism in today's world.
See it here. Worth watching, not just an ego trip for yours truly but take stock of your life, what you need versus what you want - and if you really want it.

Here is the YouTube link:
http://youtu.be/LYb-HbttqQg

The host tweeted:
Lisa Fletcher‏@lisa_fletch

This could be my most favorite #ajstream! If you're missing our discussion on consumerism, make sure you catch it online!

Of course it was your favorite! Can't blame you :)
 

BBC Interview: Sudan Post Split - Difficult Times

This is an audio of an interview that Lisa Mullins of "The World" (PRI/BBC World Service) did with yours truly, on July 9th 2012.
My fifteen minutes of fame :-) I just wish we had happier topics to discuss.
Lisa Mullins made me feel so comfortable that I felt that we had sat down for a casual chat and was a little surprised to hear myself later. If anyone approves of my words, I need to give her most of the credit. Thank you, kindly Ms. Mullins for giving the people of Sudan a voice.
Audio: http://soundcloud.com/theworld/sudan-post-split-difficult
Transcript: http://www.theworld.org/2012/07/sudan-post-split/

My Sudan, My Revolution

Over the course of 23 years, we have listened to our friends and relatives ask how we tolerate living in Sudan and why we don't leave. Our standard reply is that things will get better and we want to be part of building our country and helping our people achieve better living standards.

Our replies were always tinged in expressed or unexpressed resentment. What have you done for this country? Why are you complaining? You took the easy route. You chose a country that offers you dignity, livelihood and freedom. It was not your country, you have no birthright, your claim to it is selfish, perhaps gained, perhaps earned. You chose it, do not begrudge me my choice, do not deny me this deep love I have for my homeland.

What has Sudan given me?

In my time, it provided me with a decent education. It allowed my parents to provide for us which was not easy but they made it work. As time has passed, we have watched our lives crumble, our standards deteriorate, our people go hungry.

What has Sudan given us?

It has given us our home, our identity, our generosity and empathy. Yet, now, we witness the moral decay of our people, the greed and selfishness of desperation. The craftiness of the jungle, justifying corruption and stealing, in all its forms, as the litany, "survival of the fittest" resounds louder than the call to prayer. The failure of Sudan as a country is undeniable, while the failure of the Sudanese is open to dispute. We are good people. Warm and loving. Passionate and caring. Loud and proud. We are not Arabs; we are not Africans; we are Sudanese. We are a unique blend of activism and fatalism; realism and superstition; bravery and cowardice; progression and prudishness and primitiveness.

We love the old, we love the new; we love, we hate, we cry and we laugh.

We are everyone and we are no one. We combine every ethnic race but we are similar to none.

I cannot afford to lose hope for my country. I cannot survive without hope for my countrymen. This revolution gives my irrational hope, substance. This revolution brings my dreams closer with every voice that rises. This revolution has made me proud of my youth who bring drinking water to the riot police who stand over them. Made me proud of our elders who joined their sons and daughters on the streets because they remember a better time, and they too have dreams. Proud of the women who sat themselves down in the middle of the road, in plastic chairs and all their traditional glory to demonstrate that mothers and daughters have no fear, in this country of strong and outspoken women.

This is our country. We sing this in our national anthem. We want our country back, we want to live, we want to thrive, we want to work, we want to write, we want to speak our minds, we want our dignity, our freedom, our rights. Sudan Revolts is the will of the people, and the famous verse says that Destiny must comply. We are a God fearing nation and we know that we will overcome and Sudan will belong to the people once again.