As part of my self-initiated therapy initiative (so as to be politically trendy), I decided to start keeping a diary (as part of exercising freedom of expression) in an attempt to find my lost identity (and cut my sweets addiction in the process). I feel that keeping a diary at this time in history is significant since I believe that if I diligently keep writing, I will soon become the witness of some historical moment equivalent to the fall of the Berlin Wall and the USSR.
May 5, 2005 (Today is a happy day for most Egyptians, as according to the belief that number five including Thursday “Khamis” prevents the evil eye. At least today, none will get the evil eye due to the four fives coming together. I wonder if being free of fear will in anyway alter people’s behavior and if they are going to start being more frank and start bragging. Personally, I doubt for fear is a bondage that is not easily broken. )
Well, I thought of starting by introducing myself, and as I started writing “I am…” it suddenly struck me that God introduced Himself to the people of Israel in the old days as “I am who I am.” Certainty of identity and essence and self-revelation are so daring that they are almost only divine.
To all of us there is a minimum of self-definition needed to remain healthy and happy. I need to regain this lost understanding. As I look in the mirror, which I rarely do, I see a stranger defined by messages received from those around; Messages that can be inaccurate, inclined, or incomplete. I need to know who I am truly. I know this seems like a boring self-indulgent proposition.
In the Arab World people, especially women, sometimes are defined by their relations so they are called; the daughter of such and such or the wife of “folan”, but mostly the mother of “folan” (first son, second son, or any son, preferably.) Yet, I am no more a feminist and I will not judge the significance of that socially. However, this leaves me still feeling undefined though feeling chronologically correct but lacking the achievement of a son.
What about being defined according to profession or achievement so you are either a doctor, a “Bashmohendes” (and that can be either a Professor of architecture or a second class plumber), a “Basha” (that now means just a human being in Egypt as it also includes being an officer, businessman, politician, and anything else), “Ostaz” (that is mostly an insult as bad as being called “madam” and you gain it for being one of those miserably paid educated person), or “Hag” or “Haga” (a gained status for living long enough.) And finally another one is “Baraka” (which means you’re either too sick or too old.) None seems to give me satisfaction, though to my great alarm, I sometimes get called “hagga”!!! What about my M.A? It does not count as there is no name for that.
We are the appearance and the essence or in other words the body and the soul (and spirit.) They both reflect each other or at least this is what we interpret. There must be more to definition of self than that. Who am I really?
At least I know that far. I am a woman (if so then who are Angelina, Nancy, Elissa and Haifa?)
May 5, 2005 (Today is a happy day for most Egyptians, as according to the belief that number five including Thursday “Khamis” prevents the evil eye. At least today, none will get the evil eye due to the four fives coming together. I wonder if being free of fear will in anyway alter people’s behavior and if they are going to start being more frank and start bragging. Personally, I doubt for fear is a bondage that is not easily broken. )
Well, I thought of starting by introducing myself, and as I started writing “I am…” it suddenly struck me that God introduced Himself to the people of Israel in the old days as “I am who I am.” Certainty of identity and essence and self-revelation are so daring that they are almost only divine.
To all of us there is a minimum of self-definition needed to remain healthy and happy. I need to regain this lost understanding. As I look in the mirror, which I rarely do, I see a stranger defined by messages received from those around; Messages that can be inaccurate, inclined, or incomplete. I need to know who I am truly. I know this seems like a boring self-indulgent proposition.
In the Arab World people, especially women, sometimes are defined by their relations so they are called; the daughter of such and such or the wife of “folan”, but mostly the mother of “folan” (first son, second son, or any son, preferably.) Yet, I am no more a feminist and I will not judge the significance of that socially. However, this leaves me still feeling undefined though feeling chronologically correct but lacking the achievement of a son.
What about being defined according to profession or achievement so you are either a doctor, a “Bashmohendes” (and that can be either a Professor of architecture or a second class plumber), a “Basha” (that now means just a human being in Egypt as it also includes being an officer, businessman, politician, and anything else), “Ostaz” (that is mostly an insult as bad as being called “madam” and you gain it for being one of those miserably paid educated person), or “Hag” or “Haga” (a gained status for living long enough.) And finally another one is “Baraka” (which means you’re either too sick or too old.) None seems to give me satisfaction, though to my great alarm, I sometimes get called “hagga”!!! What about my M.A? It does not count as there is no name for that.
We are the appearance and the essence or in other words the body and the soul (and spirit.) They both reflect each other or at least this is what we interpret. There must be more to definition of self than that. Who am I really?
At least I know that far. I am a woman (if so then who are Angelina, Nancy, Elissa and Haifa?)
No comments:
Post a Comment