reflections of an only child...struggling to shatter stereotypes, battling against the demons of loneliness in hi heeled sandals and a tiara...welcome to the alcoves of my mind.
- ▼ May (7)
- ► 2007 (78)
if there's one thing that irks me more than group projects, bad hair days and pushy people, its people who smoke. while my bus adventures allow my tolerance ot extend to handling smelly people who have no control over there inquisitive elbows and will go out of their way to invade your space or god forbid strike up a bright summery converstation with you on a day when all you want to do is slap everyone around with a cricket bat, my days have now been additionally seasoned by a good dose of smoke. see, at the bus stop, there's this afrikaner ladt with a shock of blonde hair followed by an undertone of black. and she's usually draped in a cloud of smoke and happily casts the smoke upon missQ. all the waving away off the smoke and the angry 'ahems' in the world dont seem to get her attention as she insists she teaches the security guard nearby afrikaans. yeah, every flipping morning, i emerge out of the smoke to maniacally wave the bus down and ever so often, the driver misses me and there i am again -left to inhale. freaking idiot. no - freaking idiots who smoke. and why on earth do some people think its cool to have this thing attached to your mouth that billows out smoke and makes you smell like last months' lasagne. and! discolours your teeth and makes your lungs all blacks and gross. and then, you go and impose this shit on innocent people like us who arent aiming for an early departure. yeah - so to all the smokers - go screw yourself.
The thing about taking public transport, is that people automatically assume that you’re independent – which I am (some people will vouch for my stubbornness). But independence will only take you so far in this world…in my case it got me to town and left me stranded there on the one day our darling bus drivers decided to have a strike. In Niki’s case, it got her back where she started – home. Thanks to my white knight, I managed to get to my destination, albeit full of rage and looking like I could stomp on all the pretty flowers here and then drive over em with a tractor. yeah. But really, independence can function on its own on this planet- you’re always going to have to depend on something like the idiotic transport system. So no – taking the bus doesn’t mean you’re all independent – it means that hey, if the bus doesn’t come, im screwed. Royally. And if it rains- yeah, that’s right – screwed again! And people that don’t take buses will go and schedule meetings exactly when you need to leave or keep talking while you look at your watch and you know the bus has left without you. Then they’ll shut up after 5 minutes and you have to waste another half and hour of your life waiting for the next one. And I don’t like asking for help, I never have, but thankfully my knight is as stubborn as I am. Its just that while the bus is cool and you meet lotsa people…fade out to when Niki met Q…
Niki: hi, are you taking the campus bus? (she was thinking..great! fresh meat! I bet she’s first year.poor thing doesn’t know what’s gonna hit her)
Q: um.yeah. Hey weren’t you in my primary school? (I better be this girlie’s friend. She can wave the bus down for us)
Niki: Omg!! Yeah I was…(crap..now this chick is gonna keep talking. And I’ll probably have to wave the bus down)
We had a hiatus for about a year..and then we were reunited at the bus stop again when we both had gained a considerable amount of fashion sense and then we were ready to commit to a serious friendship ;) then we had the most amazing bus adventure where we took two buses just to go to this place for a slice of choc cake…in all, I think we took 5 buses that day. But it was worth it! Only a select view know that you cant ignore the call of chocolate cake. And shopping. There can never be enough shopping. Like the night before mother’s day..when the friends and I decided to take on Gateway and we ended up getting elbowed and I crushed some chick’s toes and we managed to get the last few of the most amazing gift right in front of other shoppers heading straight for it ;) it was madness. When there are only a few Afrikaans mother’s day cards left on the shelf, you know you’re too late. And Jo and I found cute London hats that I want to buy..i know I wont wear it often..but I need to know that its mine you know? Ahem…sounds like some other scenarios would fit the last sentence ;) yes, im pointing at you. Lol anyway…thankfully the buses are up and running and I don’t have to say all those bad words in my head again. And I can fully focus my thoughts on getting that yummy chicken shwarma and chips and coke if I get through this day awake…see? You must always incentivize.
and to my angel who makes me feel like its my birthday every day....you're my happy pillumm...and i baked these for you
coz you make life beautiful....
There is something sinister about fairs. And I don’t mean the usual run of the mill fun fair chocfull of creepy clowns and crying kids – I mean Muslim fairs. And we wont mention names, but the one held this weekend had its fair share of weirdness and seemed to bring out the daredevil shopper in each visitor and summoned up the youth in some old women who elbowed their way to the bargains. The same fair the night before though, was calm and void of all signs that it would bring about the consumer crusade it did the next day, when all items gleamed in the daylight and people could see where they were going, spotting bargains a mile away and rushing through the crowd in some manouevres only rugby players would be proud of. And then you get the shielded warriors, the pardah aunties who will use their anonymity as a way to push through – not forgetting those using prams as weapons to block your path t the bargain you’ve spotted three miles away and threaten all hopes of ever reaching the destination. Yesterday was no exception, when MissQ was trying on a cloak and this old lady pushed past and said, ‘you taking that?’ and I was like,er..i don’t know yet,’ looking at the lady who obviously would not fit all parts of her into it at the same time. And I did take it, which brought out the savage in her and she gruntled away. And then azaan went and I spotted my bargain while all these ladies stopped to out their scarves on, I struck! And found the cutest cloak. Since it was the last day of the fair and the plummeting prices threatened to unleash a new onset of shopping euphoria and a good dose of rage, I left before it could escalate. But it just makes me wonder – for all the Muslimness we try to exhibit to non-Muslims and the holier than thou attitudes we wear around like coats of armour, when we’re all together this seems to give way to another dimension (which squishes people). Really though. How odd is it to see people dressed all holy and peaceful looking and there they go, pummeling into the crowd reminiscent of the some angry warthogs. And yes, we do think we’re better than others – I don’t know when or why we started thinking that way, but maybe it’s the whole money thing. And we think we have a right to act these ways when we think nobody’s looking. And it’s more than pushing people around at fairs…its deeper, it’s about morals and pushing your way through life. And often if there’s a Muslim pharmacist or doctor consulting with patients, a Muslim patient that came last will cut through and use Salaam as a way of saying. ‘Hey, im your sister/brother and we’re connected through this religion so serve me first.’ Don’t get me wrong…im not embarrassed to be Muslim, neither am I saying that everyone is like this. All im saying is that somewhere, we lost the plot.
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