tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13371275735013583042024-03-13T23:32:23.835+02:00EvolutionEmbracing changeShahiedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04312009543065359187noreply@blogger.comBlogger150125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337127573501358304.post-67776265415398425152011-10-12T12:26:00.000+02:002011-10-12T12:26:13.627+02:00I'd love to share this............<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size: 24pt;">Du'a of Light (Good to recite after Fajr Prayers)</span></strong></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div> <div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Traditional Arabic","serif"; font-size: 24pt;">اللَّهُمَّ إنِّي أَسْأَلُكَ رَحْمَةً مِنْ عِنْدِكَ تَهْدِي بِهَا قَلْبِي ، وَ تَجْمَعُ بِهَا شَمْلِي، وَ تَلُمُّ بِهَا شَعَثِي، وَ تَرُدُّ بِهَا أُلْفَتِي، وَتُصْلِحُ بِهَا دَيْنِي، وَ تَحْفَظُ بِهَا غَاءِبِي، وَ تَرْفَعُ بِهَا شَاهِدِي، وَ تُزَكِّي بِهَا عَمَلِي، وَ تُبَيِّضُ بِهَا وَجْهِي، وَ تُلْهِمَنِي بِهَا رُشْدِي، وَ تَقْضِي لِي بِهَا حَاجَتِي، وَ تَعْصِمُنِي بِهَا مِنْ كُلِّ سُوْءٍ، اللَّهُمَّ إنِّي أَسْأَلُكَ إيْمَاناً خَالِصاً يُبَاشِرُ قَلْبِي، وَ يَقِيناً صَادِقاً حَتَّى أَعْلَمَ أَنَّهُ لَنْ يُصِيبَنِي إلَّا مَا كَتَبْتَهُ عَلَيَّ وَ رَضِّنِي بِمَا قَسَمْتَهُ لِي </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Traditional Arabic","serif"; font-size: 24pt;">اللَّهُمَّ إنِّي أَسْأَلُكَ إيْمَاناً صَادِقاً، وَ يَقِيناً لَيْسَ بَعْدَهُ كُفْرٌ، وَ أَسْأَلُكَ رَحْمَةً أَنَالُ بِهَا شَرَفَ كَرَامَتِكَ فِي الدُّنْيَا وَ الْآخِرَةِ. اللَّهُمَّ إنِّي أَسْأَلُكَ الْفَوْزَ عِنْدَ اللِقَاءِ ، وَ الصَّبْرُ عِنْدَ الْقَضَاءِ وَ مَنَازِلَ الشُّهَدَاءِ ، وَ عِيْشَ السُّعَدَاءِ ، وَ النَّصْرَ عَلَى الْأَعْدَاءِ ، وَ مُرَافَقَةَ الْأَنْبِيَاءِ. اللَّهُمَّ إنِّي أُنْزِلُ بِكَ حَاجَتِيْ وَ إنْ ضَعُفَ رَأْيِيْ ، وَ قَصُرَ عَمَلِيْ ، وَ افْتَقَرْتُ إلَى رَحْمَتِكَ ، فَأَسْأَلُكَ يَا قَاضِيَ الْأُمُوْرِ ، وَ يَا شَافِيَ الصُّدُوْرِ ، كَمَا تُجِيْرُ بَيْنَ الْبُحُوْرِ أَنْ تُجِيْرُنِيْ مِنْ عَذَابِ السَّعِيْرِ ، وَ مِنْ دَعْوَةِ الثُّبُوْرِ وَ مِنْ فِتْنَةِ الْقُبُوْرِ </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Traditional Arabic","serif"; font-size: 24pt;">اللَّهُمَّ وَ مَا قَصُرَ عَنْهُ رَأْيِيْ وَ ضَعُفَ عَنْهُ عَمَلِيْ ، وَ لَمْ تَبْلُغْهُ نِيَّتِيْ وَ أُمْنِيَّتِيْ مَنْ خَيْرٍ وَ عَدْتَهُ أَحَداً مِنْ عِبَادِكَ ، أَوْ خَيْرٍ أَنْتَ مُعْطِيَهُ أَحَداً مِنْ خَلْقِكَ ، فَإنِّيْ أَرْغَبُ إلَيِكَ فِيْهِ ، وَ أَسْأَلُكَ إيَّاهُ يَا رَبَّ الْعَالَمِيْنَ.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "Traditional Arabic","serif"; font-size: 24pt;">اللَّهُمَّ اجْعَلْنَا هَادِيْنَ مُهْتَدِيْنَ غَيْرَ ضَالِّيْنَ وَ لا مُضِلِّيْنَ ، حَرْباً لِأَعْدَاءِكَ ، سِلْماً لِأَوْلِيَاءِكَ ، نُحِبُّ بِحُبِّكَ النَّاسَ ، وَ نُعَادِيْ بِعَدَاوَتِكَ مِنْ خَالَفَكَ مِنْ خَلْقِكَ. اللَّهُمَّ هَذَا الدُّعَاءُ ، وَ عَلَيْكَ الْإجَبَةُ ، وَ هَذَا الْجُهْدُ وَ عَلَيْكَ التُّكْلانُ ، وَ إنَّا لِلَّهِ وَ إنَّا إلَيْهِ رَاجِعُوْنَ ، وَ لا حَوْلَ وَ لا قُوَّةَ إلاَّ بَا للهِ الْعَلِيِّ الْعَظِيْمِ </span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Traditional Arabic","serif"; font-size: 24pt;">اللَّهُمَّ ذَا الْحَبْلِ الشَّدِيْدِ ، وَ الْأَمْرِ الرَّشِيْدِ ، أَسْأَلُكَ الْأَمْنَ يَوْمَ الْوَعِيْدِ ، وَ الْجَنَّةَ يَوْمَ الْخُلُوْدِ ، مَعَ الْمُقَرَّبِيْنَ الشُهُوْد ، الرُكَّعِ السُّجُوْدِ ، وَ الْمُوْفِيْنَ لَكَ بَالْعُهُوْدِ، إنَّكَ رَحِيْمُ وَدُوْدٌ ، وَ إنَّكَ تَفْعَلُ مَا تُرِيْدُ ، سُبْحَانَ مَنْ تَعَطَّفَ بَالْعِزِّ وَ قَالَ بِهِ ، سُبْحَانَ مَنْ لَبِسَ الْمَجْدَ وَ تَكَرَّمَ بِهِ ، سُبْحَانَ مَنْ لا يَنْبَغِي التَّسْبِيْحُ إلاَّ لَهُ ، سُبْحَانَ ذِي الْفَضْلِ وَ النِّعَمِ ، سُبْحَانَ ذِي الْقُدْرَةِ وَ الْكَرَمِ ، سُبْحَانَ الَّذِيْ أَحْصَى كُلَّ شَيْءٍ بِعِلْمِهِ . اللَّهُمَّ اجْعَلْ لِيْ نُوْراً فِيْ قَلْبِيْ ، وَ نُوْراً فِيْ قَبْرِيْ ، وَ نُوْراً فِيْ سَمْعِيْ ، وَ نُوْراً فِيْ بَصَرِيْ ، وَ نُوْراً فِيْ شَعْرِيْ ، وَ نُوْراً فِيْ بَشَرِيْ ، وَ نُوْراً فِيْ لَحْمِيْ ، وَ نُوْراً فِيْ دَمِيْ ، وَ نُوْراً فِيْ عِظَامِيْ ، وَ نُوْراً مِنْ بَيْنَ يَدَيَّ ، وَ نُوْراً مِنْ خَلْفِيْ ، وَ نُوْراً عَنْ يَمِيْنِيْ ، وَ نُوْراً عَنْ شِمَالِيْ ، وَ نُوْراً مِنْ فَوْقِيْ ، وَ نُوْراً مِنْ تَحْتِيْ ، اللَّهُمَّ زِدْنِيْ نُوْراً ، وَ أَعْظِمْ لِيْ نُوْراً ، وَ اجْعَلْ لِيْ نُوْراً بِرَحْمَتِكَ يَا أَرْحَمَ الرَّاحِمِيْنَ</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;">Allahumma innee as’aluka rahmatan min ‘indika tahdee bihaa qalbee, wa tajma’u bihaa shamlee, wa talummu bihaa sha’athee, wa taruddu bihaa ulfatee, wa tuslihu bihaa deenee, wa tahfathu bihaa ghaa’ibee, wa tarfa’u bihaa shaahidee, wa tuzakkee bihaa ‘amalee, wa tubayyidhu bihaa wajhee, wa tulhimanee bihaa rushdee, wa taqdhee lee bihaa haajatee, wa ta’simunee bihaa min kulli soo’, Allahumma innee as’aluka eemaanan khaalisan yubaashiru qalbee, wa yaqeenan saadiqan hattaa a’lamu annahu lan yuseebanee illa ma katabtahu ‘alayya wa radhdhinee bimaa qasamtahu lee.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;">Allahumma innee as’aluka eemaanan saadiqan wa yaqeenan laysa ba’dahu kufr, wa as’aluka rahmatan anaalu bihaa sharafa karaamatika fiddunya wal aakhirah, Allahumma innee as’alukal fawza ‘indal liqaa, was sabru ‘indal qadhaa, wa manaazilash shuhadaa, wa ‘eeshas su’adaa, wan nasra ‘alal a’adaa, wa muraafaqatal ambiyaa/</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;">Allahumma innee unzilu bika haajatee wa in dha’ufa ra’yee, wa qasura ‘amalee, waftaqartu ilaa rahmatik, fa as’aluka yaa qadhiyal umoor, wa yaa shaafiyas sudoor, kamaa tujeeru baynal buhoori an tujeerunee min ‘athaabis sa’eer, wa min da’watith thuboor wa min fitnatil quboor. Allahumma wa maa qasura ‘anhu ra’yee wa dha’ufa ‘anhu ‘amalee, wa lam tablugh-hu niyyatee wa umniyyatee min khayrin wa ‘adtahu ahadan min ‘ibaadik, aw khayrin anta mu’tiyahu ahadan min khalqik, fa innee arghabu ilayka feeh, wa as’aluka iyyahu yaa rabbal ‘aalameen.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;">Allahummaj ‘alnaa haadeena muhtadeena ghayra dhaalleena wa la mudhilleen, harban li a’daa’ik, silman li awliyaa’ik, nuhibbu bi hubbikan naas, wa nu’aadee bi’adaawatika min khaalafaka min khalqik</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;">Allahumma haathad du’aa, wa ‘alaykal ijaabah, wa haathal juhdu wa ‘alaykat tuklaan, wa inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji’oon, wa laa hawla wa laa quwwata illa billahil ‘aliyyil atheem.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;">Allahumma thal hablish shadeed wal amrir rasheed, as’alukal amna yawmal wa’eed, wal jannata yawmal khulood, arruka’is sujood wal moofeena laka bil ‘uhood, innaka raheemu waduud, wa innaka taf’alu ma tureed. Subhaana man ta’attafa bil ‘izzi wa qaala bih. Subhaana man labisal majda wa takarrama bih, subhaana man laa yambaghit tasbeehu illa lah. Subhaana thil fadhli wan ni’am. Subhaana thil qudrati wal karam. Subhanallathee ahsaa kulla shay’in bi ‘ilmih.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;">Allahummaj ‘alnee nooran fee qalbee, wa nooran fee qabee, wa nooran fee sam’ee, wa nooran fee basaree, wa nooran fee sha’ree, wa nooran fee basharee, wa nooran dee lahmee, wa nooran fee damee, wa nooran fee ‘ithaamee, wa nooran mim bayna yadayy, wa nooran min khalfee, wa nooran ‘an yameenee, wa nooran ‘an shimaalee, wa nooran min fawqee, wa nooran min tahtee. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;">Allahumma zidnee nooraa, wa a’thim lee nooraa, waj ‘allee nooraa bi rahmatika yaa arham arraahimeen.</span></div></div><div> <div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"> <hr align="center" noshade="noshade" size="1" style="color: #c7d1a9;" width="100%" /> </div></div><div> <table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="1"><tbody>
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</div></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"> <hr align="center" noshade="noshade" size="1" style="color: #c7d1a9;" width="100%" /> </div><div> <div class="MsoNormal"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;">English translation:</span></u></b><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;"><b>O ALLAH</b>, I beseech THEE for THY mercy from THEE to guide my heart, to settle my affairs, to order my disorder, to repel temptation, to reform my conduct, to preserve my secret thoughts to raise up my visible act, to purify my works, to make my face white, to inspire me to walk straight, to direct me aright, to satisfy all my needs and to keep from all evil.</span></div></div><div> <div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;"><b>O ALLAH</b>, I beseech THEE for pure faith to fill my heart; </span></div></div><div> <div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div></div><div> <div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;"><b>O ALLAH</b>, I beseech THEE for true certainty so that I may know that nothing will befall me except what THOU hast written down for me and for glad acceptance of what THOU hast allotted to me. </span></div></div><div> <div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div></div><div> <div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;"><b>O ALLAH</b> I beseech THEE for true and certain faith which no unbelief follows; and I beseech THEE for mercy whereby I may receive the privilege of They regard in this world and the next.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div></div><div> <div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;"><b>O ALLAH</b> I beseech THEE for patience with destiny, for salvation in the Encounter (on the Day of Judgment), and for the mansions of the martyrs and the life of the blessed, for succor against enemies and the companionship of the prophets.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div></div><div> <div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;"><b>O ALLAH</b> I come to THEE in my need; my thought is weak, I fall short in my actions, I am in dire need of THY mercy. I therefore beseech THEE, O judge of all things, O Healer of mens breasts, that, as THOU dost rescue from the midst of the seas, THOU would rescue me from the punishment of the Fire, the torment of the tombs and the imprecation of destruction, </span></div></div><div> <div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div></div><div> <div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;"><b>O ALLAH</b>; and wherever my thought has been too weak, my actions too imperfect and my intention and desire too ineffective to achieve some good. Thou hast promised to one of THY servants or some good THOU givest to one of THY creatures, I pray and beseech THEE for that, O Lord of the Worlds.</span></div></div><div> <div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;"><b>O ALLAH</b>, make us to guide and to be guided aright, not to errand lead astray, at war with THY enemies and at peace with THY friends, loving men with THY love and hostile with THY hostility to those of THY creatures who have oppressed THEE.</span></div></div><div> <div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;"><b>O ALLAH</b>, this is my prayer, but it is for THEE to answer, this is my utmost endeavor, but in THEE is my trust. And we are ALLAH’s to HIM we are returning; there is no power nor might save with ALLAH, the high and mighty.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div></div><div> <div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;"><b>O ALLAH</b> of the faithful covenant and wise command, I beseech THEE to protect me on the day of doom and to grant me Paradise in the day of eternity, along with the saints and the martyrs who bow and prostrate themselves before THEE, and those who fulfill their covenant with THEE, verily THOU art merciful and loving and does what THOU willeth.</span></div></div><div> <div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;"><b>Praise be to ALLAH</b> Who is characterized by might and holds it. </span></div></div><div> <div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;"><b>Praise be to ALLAH</b> Who is clothed and adorned with glory. </span></div></div><div> <div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;"><b>Praise be to ALLAH</b> Who alone is to be praised. </span></div></div><div> <div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;"><b>Praise ALLAH</b> for HIS grace and favour. </span></div></div><div> <div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;"><b>Praise ALLAH</b> for HIS power and goodness. </span></div></div><div> <div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;"><b>Praise ALLAH</b> Whose knowledge encompasses all things.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div></div><div> <div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;"><b>O ALLAH</b>, grant me light in my heart and light in my tomb, light in my hearing and light in my seeing, light in my hair and light in my skin, light in my flesh and light in my blood and light in my bones, light before me, light behind me, light to right of me, light to left of me, light above me, light beneath me. </span></div></div><div> <div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div></div><div> <div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;"><b>O ALLAH</b>, increase my light and give me the greatest light of all. Of THY mercy grant me light, O THOU most merciful.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt;"><b>Ameen, Ameen, Ya Rabbal Alameen!! </b></span></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Shahiedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04312009543065359187noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337127573501358304.post-23096678421735686382011-10-07T14:01:00.000+02:002011-10-07T14:01:47.325+02:00A Topic so very close to our hearts.........<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I have been rather quiet...... Not because I have nothing to write about but more that I have too much on my plate for the last few months. I haven't been able to sit down long enough to gather my thoughts.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And then, a few days ago I received an article which I definitely wanted to share. The article focuses on the relationship between Mother-in-Law and Daughter-in-Law but it can be rationalized across all relationships really. What we need to understand, is that there needn't be a 'power struggle' at all. We have and show different kinds of love to each person in our family, whether extended or not. We need to strike a balance.......</span></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 11.25pt;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times; font-size: 21pt;"><a href="http://www.livingislam.co.za/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=652:are-you-out-lawed-by-your-in-laws&catid=111:inspiration&Itemid=545" target="_blank">ARE YOU OUT-LAWED BY YOUR IN -LAWS? </a></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 11.25pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #333333; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">The ‘mother-in-law joke is an old chestnut that resonates throughout the world, irrespective of class, culture or faith. At its most basic it is woman against woman, a struggle for power, control and establishing boundaries.<br />
It is extremely prevalent in our community that women are raised and programmed to nurture others, especially our children. We reach the point that when we are no longer needed, we feel as if we have been deprived of oxygen. When we have raised our child, be it son or daughter, to the best of our ability, we need to trust their choices, and we have to respect the partner they have taken, however we may disagree. According to Clinical Psychologist, Ferial Johnstone, when two people marry, each one comes with a covert contract of what a marriage should be. This contract is influenced by what they observed in the marriage of their parents, what they have heard from others, as well as the influence of the media. For instance, the young woman may have a mother who had a career, and so she expects that she will be working as well. Her mother in law may have stayed home and will unconsciously judge her for the fact that she is not devoting herself totally to husband and children. Through lack of communication, tension develops. The older woman constantly compares the younger woman with herself and finds her wanting. She in turn picks up that she is not good enough. The tension builds up and results in passive/aggressive behaviour. This eventually results in a full scale blow up when a seemingly insignificant incident acts as a trigger. When we judge others, and have certain expectations, we destroy each other, instead of being supportive and loving.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 11.25pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #333333; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Johnstone says that most of the time we operate from a power dynamic, we come from a background of either oppression or justice. We oppress others depending on where we are at. Mothers fear the loss of their sons, particularly if she is a very strong person, and has a very close relationship with her son. She feels that no one is really good enough for her son. When she fears losing, either her son, or control, the unconscious behaviour is unjust and unfair.<br />
The young woman, on the other hand, sees a very strong person, and her perception is that she needs to establish her territory. Unconsciously, she sets her boundaries; it is self-protective armour, which enables her to have a safe place in which she can operate.<br />
There are really no evil mothers or daughters in law, each one of us act according to our perception of a situation. Najmunesa Solomon, Cognitive Therapist from PEG, attributes this to VALUES, PERCEPTIONS AND BELIEFS. She says that we all are raised with certain values; these values influence how we view life. Ultimately, these perceptions become our beliefs. In the case of the woman whose mother worked outside the home, she believes that she does not have to stay home, she can have a career. The mother who had always sacrificed her own needs for her husband and children believes that her way is the best way. <br />
Another example is when a young woman learns that her mother had suffered under her own mother in-law. This colors her perception of what it will be like when she some day gets married. Unconsciously she builds up a resistance to possible abuse, and sets her boundaries from the outset. The mother in-law, who may be an angel, becomes aware of this, and reacts accordingly. Unfortunately, we are unaware of how our perceptions influence what we believe should be, and we end ripping each other apart.</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #333333;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 11.25pt;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #333333;">So what is the solution?</span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #333333;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 11.25pt;"><b><u><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #333333;">The Older woman</span></u></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #333333;"><br />
• Women need to realise that our children come through us, not for us. They are entrusted to us By Allah, but they belong to the future.<br />
• As difficult as it may be to accept, they reach the stage when they no longer need us, they will not run to mother with every little problem.<br />
• Once you realise this, you have a choice: either chew your nails and wail ‘my child does not need/want/love me anymore, and in most case blame the daughter in law; or you can pat yourself on the shoulder, not with Kibr, but in gratitude, and say: ‘Alhamdulillah, I did a good job”<br />
• If she gives you grief, try not to complain to your son, the last thing a man wants to do is choose between his wife and mother. <br />
• Trust, respect and accept your child’s choice of a life partner.<br />
• Motherhood moves in phases. Like royalty, when the new queen is crowned, the older woman becomes the dowager, and this role can be very rewarding. You now have all the pleasure, and none of the responsibility.<br />
• Realise that you will always be your son’s mother, but you can never be his wife.<br />
• Respect your new daughter, Allah has chosen her to bring your grand children into the world. If for nothing else, honour her for this.<br />
• Think back to how you felt as a new bride, all fired up with importance. Recognise where she is at and try for compassion.<br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 11.25pt;"><b><u><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #333333;">The Younger woman</span></u></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #333333;"><br />
• Try to focus on the fact that your mother-in-law was chosen to bring your husband into the world. If for nothing else, honour her for this.<br />
• If she gives you grief, try not to complain to your husband, the last thing a man wants to do is choose between his wife and mother. <br />
• The best thing to do is to tell her how she makes you feel, but do this with love and compassion.<br />
• If this does not help, just be pleasant and try to avoid too much contact.<br />
• As Ferial Johnstone says, communication is the key, but communication done in anger and frustration is counter –productive.<br />
• Make your marriage contract overt, that is, spell out your expectations.<br />
• A good thing to do, according to Najmunesa Solomon, is for the young people to list 10 values that they got from their respective families, compare them and focus on the similarities. Most marriages founder on the differences in values, which can be as low as only one or two.<br />
• Realise that you are the wife, but you can never be his mother. Jannah lies at the feet of the mother; it will be a supreme act of love if you help your husband to attain his Jannah.<br />
• Look at your children, try to see yourself as a mother in-law; with compassion, and try to understand where she is at.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 11.25pt; text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #333333;"><br />
Finally, do not be tempted to fall into PHDS (pull her down syndrome). There is no point in two women metaphorically trying to destroy each other. You both love the same man, and if you have nothing else in common, hold onto this fact, for the sake of Allah.<br />
<b>Jasmine Khan</b><br />
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</span><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #333333; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Whether it's praise, love, criticism, money, time, power, punishment, space, sorrow, laughter, need, pain, or pleasure... the more <br />
of it that you give, the more of it you will receive.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Shahiedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04312009543065359187noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337127573501358304.post-16022220696034513772011-02-28T00:37:00.000+02:002011-02-28T00:37:12.958+02:00Uthmaan cooks his first full meal!!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b>TA DAAAAAAA!!</b></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-jx9lS8EkYhk/TWrHcRILQVI/AAAAAAAAAx8/NYj9GWO6N8c/s1600/DSC09174.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-jx9lS8EkYhk/TWrHcRILQVI/AAAAAAAAAx8/NYj9GWO6N8c/s320/DSC09174.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Mince, roasted vegetables & pasta bake</i></span></b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I guess when your mother spends most of her spare time in the kitchen, it's bound to rub off sooner than later. My kids love pottering around in the kitchen, but lets face it, cleaning up afterward can be such a mission :D</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">During the week I had such a hectic day that I decided to ask Uthmaan to help out with the making of supper. Since starting with his Haafithul Quraan program this year, he doesn't attend madrassah during the afternoon any longer. With a fast tutorial from me over the telephone, on what was to be made, I let him get to it. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I couldn't wait for the day to end so that I could make my way home to see what he had come up with. As I disembarked the bus, my hand phone let off a beep. Incoming message from Uthmaan!!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Mom, the food's almost done!!"</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Waaaaaahhhhh! I almost ran all the way home! :D</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What greeted me as I walked through the door was the aromatic smell of grilled cheese, YUMS! We quickly set the table and everyone sat down to dig in. Now, mind you, meal times can be quite raucous at my home. The girls were reminding Uthmaan of the first time he helped out with the making of food. Poor Uthmaan! I don't think he'll ever live that experience down :D</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I made some brown lentils stew and asked him to watch the pot for me as I had to run an errand. When I returned, he had added uncooked macaroni to the stew, LOL! It wasn't a train smash though, it was still edible, hehehehe.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This time around, he proved his sisters wrong, hehehehe! The food was delish! Just a bit short of salt and the bottom stuck a bit to the oven dish because he had forgotten to spray it with cooking spray.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There was a bonus though! While he was cooking he cleaned the kitchen too! Awwww, such a sweet boy is he!</span><br />
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</span>Shahiedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04312009543065359187noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337127573501358304.post-77580156670675468562011-02-25T16:00:00.010+02:002011-02-25T16:46:01.957+02:00This is my attempt at luring...........all the international readers of my blog to visit CT!<br />
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I'm sure all of you know by now just how much I love the Mother City, not to mention it's most beautiful tourist attraction, Table Mountain! I have mentioned this on occasion <a href="http://twin-dimples.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-have-been-tagged.html">here</a>, <a href="http://twin-dimples.blogspot.com/2009/12/fifa-2010-fever-hits-cape-town.html">here</a>, <a href="http://twin-dimples.blogspot.com/2009/05/day-sightseeing-with-asmah-her-husband.html">here</a>, <a href="http://twin-dimples.blogspot.com/2009/05/serene-start-to-day.html">here</a> and <a href="http://twin-dimples.blogspot.com/2008/06/breathtaking-start-to-beautiful-day.html">here</a>.<br />
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Yesterday Caroline sent me this <a href="http://leecasalena.com/fullmoonhike.swf">link</a> and I was mesmerized once again!!<br />
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The link shows a panoramic view from Table Mountain during the full moon. There's a group of hikers (anyone can join) who trek up every full moon to experience this most spectacular sight. I have yet to hike up at night but I've never been brave enough :D<br />
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Go on! Have a look!<br />
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But don't blame me if you find yourself suddenly yearning to visit ok :D<br />
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<b>PS : Don't forget to drag your mouse to get the full effect!</b>Shahiedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04312009543065359187noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337127573501358304.post-74258836029997585952010-07-28T21:19:00.002+02:002010-07-28T21:28:06.234+02:00What's wrong with this pic??<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/TFCELM8CHGI/AAAAAAAAAwo/jm47WGnVMtU/s1600/DSC07232.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/TFCELM8CHGI/AAAAAAAAAwo/jm47WGnVMtU/s400/DSC07232.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499040473005825122" /></a><br /><div>En route to the bus stop every evening, I walk pass this building. Can you spot what's wrong here??</div><div><br /></div><div>Come on...... I know you see what I see :D </div>Shahiedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04312009543065359187noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337127573501358304.post-52838278916397367362010-07-25T23:59:00.000+02:002010-07-25T23:59:40.447+02:00If you believed that one person................ couldn't make a difference. Then you hadn't met <a href="http://onebreastbouncing.blogspot.com/">Dalilah Tamrin / Raden Galoh!<br /></a><br />I started blogging just over two years ago and Dalilah's blog was one of the first I stumbled on. This courageous woman was the epitome of strength and perseverance! Every post she wrote brought to the fore every emotion you could think of. But what struck me the most was her faith, her strong sense of belief that whatever came her way were Allah's blessings. The more He tested her, the more she pulled closer to Him.<div><br /></div><div>Dalilah had been diagnosed with breast cancer in her thirties. Not one to let her situation get the better of her, she set about educating those around her. She did this by means of her blog, motivational speaking at various universities and seminars, and later publishing her book recording her journey fighting the big C. </div><div><br /></div><div>When I visited KL last year, one of the highlights of my trip was meeting Dalilah face to face. She had the most endearing smile. As I look through my pix of her and those posted by fellow bloggers, that's what stands out most. She had touched each person differently, all the blog posts written after her passing bears testament to that.</div><div><br /></div><div>I had been texting Sis D during her Umrah to the Holy cities. She wasn't doing too well and was eventually confined to a wheelchair for the rest of her visit. I was glad that her husband had decided to take the journey with her. Though her health was deteriorating, when asked how she was doing, 'Alghumdulillah', would always be her reply. No complaints whatsoever! </div><div><br /></div><div>The weekend before her passing I had this unsettling feeling that I just couldn't shake. I had just come home from visiting my mom and was standing in the kitchen. From the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of a lady wearing hijab. It happened so quickly, like these incidents do and nearly scared me half to death in the process. The unsettling feeling grew with intensity and as I crawled into bed I hoped that sleep would come.</div><div><br /></div><div>But I tossed and turned the whole night not getting any shut eye. Around 3:30am local time I received a text message from Yani. I knew before I opened the message what news it would relay. You have no idea how much I wanted to be in KL at that very moment! But all I could do was say a du'a and cry. </div><div><br /></div><div>And cry I did, when I saw the tributes pouring in on Sis D's blog, her FB page and the status' of mutual friends. That one person could have such an effect on those they made contact with, no matter how brief, was just miraculous. I was so moved, I don't think I've seen anything like it! Sis D had certainly raised the bar. May Allah have mercy on her soul and may she be placed amongst the pious, Insha-Allah Ameen!</div><div><br /></div><div>I shall miss you terribly!</div><div><br /></div><div>Al-Fatihah..........</div><div><br /><br /></div>Shahiedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04312009543065359187noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337127573501358304.post-14769491504255471612010-03-21T16:57:00.002+02:002010-03-21T17:01:09.852+02:00Just when I thought I was an Anuar Zain fan............. I happened upon this video on youtube. My kids were so tired of me listening to Lelaki ini that when they saw this video they kept wanting to watch it. She's so adorable and the facial expressions are priceless!<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Enjoy!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><object width="500" height="405"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1M-Glv9nyi4&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1M-Glv9nyi4&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="500" height="405"></embed></object></div>Shahiedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04312009543065359187noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337127573501358304.post-57231645975946896012010-03-12T00:00:00.005+02:002010-03-12T00:55:59.233+02:00I have been tagged.....<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S5lq39HdeHI/AAAAAAAAAwg/S-koefoWUWw/s1600-h/DSC06110.JPG"></a> </div><br /><br /><br /><br />by <a href="http://peach-for-all.blogspot.com/2010/03/aduh-aduhtag-lagi888.html">Naz</a> and since I've never been tagged before I thought I'd give it a go! So here goes..... <span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 20px;font-family:georgia;font-size:medium;" ><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-WEIGHT: normal; FONT-STYLE: normalfont-family:Georgia, Times, serif;font-size:13;" ><p style="DISPLAY: inline! important"><span style="font-family:Courier New;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></span></p></span></i></b></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 20px;font-family:georgia;font-size:medium;" ><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-WEIGHT: normal; FONT-STYLE: normalfont-family:Georgia, Times, serif;font-size:13;" ><p style="DISPLAY: inline! important"><span style="font-family:Courier New;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></span></p></span></i></b></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 20px;font-family:georgia;font-size:medium;" ><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-WEIGHT: normal; FONT-STYLE: normalfont-family:Georgia, Times, serif;font-size:13;" ><p style="DISPLAY: inline! important"><span style="font-family:Courier New;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i><b>The rule:</b></i></span></span></p></span></i></b></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 20px;font-family:Georgia, Times, serif;font-size:13;" ><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-WEIGHT: normal; FONT-STYLE: normalfont-family:Georgia, Times, serif;font-size:13;" ></span></i></b></span></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><b><i><ul><li><span style="font-family:Courier New;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i>1. Go to your photo files… select the 8th photo folder</i></span></span></li><li><span style="font-family:Courier New;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i>2. Select the 8th photo in that folder</i></span></span></li><li><span style="font-family:Courier New;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i>3. Post that photo along with the story behind it</i></span></span></li><li><span style="font-family:Courier New;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i>4. Then challenge 8 blogging friends to do the same.</i></span></span></li></ul></i></b></span><p></p><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">As fate would have it, the picture I have chosen is this one!! Strangely enough, it's also a scenic pic.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size:100%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:100%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:100%;"></span> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span> </div><p align="center"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S5lq39HdeHI/AAAAAAAAAwg/S-koefoWUWw/s1600-h/DSC06110.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447502733812529266" style="WIDTH: 496px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 318px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S5lq39HdeHI/AAAAAAAAAwg/S-koefoWUWw/s400/DSC06110.JPG" border="0" /></a></span></span></p><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"></span></span> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"></span></span> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It was taken one afternoon after leaving the office. I walk through the Company Gardens every afternoon to the bus terminal. I love the walk because I get my fix of the awesome sight of <a href="http://tablemountain.net/">Table Mountain</a>! Not that I can't see it from any other point, it's quite hard to miss, hehehe. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Being one to always have my camera in my bag, I couldn't miss the opportunity of catching a pic of this landmark in all it's glory, being covered by a 'tablecloth.' It's truly a remarkable sight to behold. A travel to the top of the mountain by cable car is a must for anyone visiting CT. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">During summer one can see the car windows glistening in the sun as many people queue to take a ride on the cable car. The cable car rotates a full 360 degrees as it makes it's way to the top of the mountain. The view is mesmerizing and there's nothing like it! </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">These are the bloggers I am tagging:</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Yani</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">KT</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Shaheema</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Tina</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Dalilah</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Elisa</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Ida </span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Saya</span></span></li></ul><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Have fun!!</span></span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div></span>Shahiedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04312009543065359187noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337127573501358304.post-69756331164756045082010-03-11T09:35:00.001+02:002010-03-11T09:37:13.672+02:00The passing of an angelI received the text message Sunday afternoon just before Asr prayers. When I saw her name on my screen I didn't think the message would deliver bad news. I was expecting, "Hey, when are you going to pay me a visit??"<br /><br />But as the message opened, the words on the screen screamed at me! It took some time for my brain to register, but the look of disbelief on my face said it all! I burst into tears. My mom looked at me, completely taken by surprise, "What's wrong?"<br /><br />NH's five year old son had passed on to Raghmatullah. Z had been diagnosed at the age of 2 with a rare form of cancer. Shocked by the news, NH and hubby took everything in their stride. Z attended regular visits for the next 2 years at the Red Cross Children's Hospital. Z's ill health prompted NH to give up her job to look after him full time.<br /><br />He recovered fully until late last year when the tumors returned. Sadly, this time, the tumors were spread throughout his body. NH kept this news to herself until about a week ago. Perhaps it was her way of making peace with the fact that her son was dying, I don't know. What I do know, is that as a mother myself, I would not have the strength to bury a child. The loss would send me over the edge into an abyss of sadness.<br /><br />I am in awe of her strength, her acceptance and her patience. What was even more amazing for me was that her patience had spilled over to Z. He accepted his condition with such maturity. Mother and son would never complain and it was as if they were in-sync with one another. She never left him alone and would see to his every need.<br /><br />One thing NH remembers very fondly was that Z loved the way his mom smelled. He would often tease her by saying, "I love the way you smell mommy, I'm going to eat you up." And NH would offer in return, "But then you won't have a mommy any longer." Z would then say, "Then I'll just have to have one bite!"<br /><br />Z died in his mother's arms just after Thuhr prayers on 7 March 2010. May Allah have mercy on his soul Ameen!<br /><br />Al-Fatihah......Shahiedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04312009543065359187noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337127573501358304.post-51446757441112304202010-03-09T09:08:00.003+02:002010-03-09T09:47:52.364+02:00In my attempt to highlight...........<div style="text-align: right;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S5X7pjSLcdI/AAAAAAAAAwY/ll8G3lbJeV4/s1600-h/abuse3.bmp"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S5X7pjSLcdI/AAAAAAAAAwY/ll8G3lbJeV4/s320/abuse3.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446536015639179730" border="0" /></a></div><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">the abuse</span> and atrocities children face at the hand of adults, I'd like to share this poem with you. It was sent to me by a friend just days after I had first visited the foster home. Strange thing is, she didn't know of my visit when she sent it!<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S5X7o9efMdI/AAAAAAAAAwI/RhW4c2GeBPY/s1600-h/abuse1.bmp"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 280px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S5X7o9efMdI/AAAAAAAAAwI/RhW4c2GeBPY/s320/abuse1.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446536005490258386" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Daddy.... It hurts.</span><br /><br />My name is Chris, I am three.<br />My eyes are swollen, I cannot see.<br />I must be stupid, I must be bad.<br />What else could have made my daddy so mad??<br /><br />I wish I were better, I wish I weren't ugly.<br />Then maybe my mommy would still want to hug me.<br />I can't do a wrong, I can't speak at all.<br />Or else I am locked up all day long.<br /><br />When I'm awake, I'm all alone.<br />The house is dark, my folks aren't home.<br />When my mom does come home, I'll try and be nice.<br />So maybe I'll just get one whipping tonight.<br /><br />I just heard a car,<br />My daddy is back from Charlie's bar<br />I hear him curse, my name is called.<br />I press myself against the wall.<br /><br />I tried to hide from his evil eyes.<br />I'm so afraid now, I'm starting to cry.<br />He finds me weeping, calls me ugly words.<br />He says it's my fault he suffers at work.<br /><br />He slaps and hits me, and yells at me more.<br />I finally get free and run to the door.<br />He's already locked it, and I start to bawl.<br />He takes me and throws me, against the hard wall.<br /><br />I fall to the floor, with my bones nearly broken.<br />And my daddy continues, with more bad words spoken.<br />'I'm sorry!' , I scream, but it's now much too late<br />His face has been twisted, into an unimaginable shape.<br /><br />The hurt and the pain, again and again.<br />Oh please God have mercy! Oh please let it end!<br />And he finally stops and heads for the door.<br />While I lay there motionless, sprawled on the floor.<br /><br />My name is Chris, I am three.<br />Tonight my daddy murdered me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S5X7pLkJIQI/AAAAAAAAAwQ/syZYksY3Brs/s1600-h/abuse2.bmp"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 205px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S5X7pLkJIQI/AAAAAAAAAwQ/syZYksY3Brs/s320/abuse2.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446536009272074498" border="0" /></a>Shahiedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04312009543065359187noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337127573501358304.post-3903904755944411472010-03-05T17:08:00.000+02:002010-03-05T17:08:59.862+02:00Here goes........ Part 3<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">Cooking some cuppies in the microwave went very quickly. But because they weren't being supported in a muffin tray, the dough spread the paper cup out wide. We ended up with big, flat cuppies, hehehe. But the texture and taste were there!<br /><br />I also baked some in the mini oven, which was a bit of a mission because I had to turn the thermostat up and down so the cuppies wouldn't burn. I made on the chocolate butter icing in the meanwhile.<br /><br /><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S5EeEEjf-8I/AAAAAAAAAwA/UdBQjl-oMPQ/s1600-h/DSC06316.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S5EeEEjf-8I/AAAAAAAAAwA/UdBQjl-oMPQ/s200/DSC06316.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445166479758588866" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S5EdFjN0hcI/AAAAAAAAAv4/XxdPtzESoBM/s1600-h/DSC06317.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S5EdFjN0hcI/AAAAAAAAAv4/XxdPtzESoBM/s200/DSC06317.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445165405657400770" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />While we were waiting for the cakes to cool down the kids set up a party table with sweets, chips, cold drinks and biscuits. It's amazing how excited they were just to get the party started. The looks on their faces said it all! A reminder to all of us who take these little things for granted!<br /><br /><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S5EdEzI5M_I/AAAAAAAAAvw/KNVyzb7LE0A/s1600-h/DSC06307.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S5EdEzI5M_I/AAAAAAAAAvw/KNVyzb7LE0A/s200/DSC06307.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445165392751834098" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S5EdEVfBeEI/AAAAAAAAAvo/yYx6izfar2I/s1600-h/DSC06308.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S5EdEVfBeEI/AAAAAAAAAvo/yYx6izfar2I/s200/DSC06308.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445165384791586882" border="0" /></a><br /></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />Everyone gathered in the living room. Once all the children were settled down, AH asked the birthday boy to stand up and everyone joined in singing him a happy birthday. Now they could get down to the nitty gritty, EATING! The children concurred that the cuppies tasted YUMMEH! The look of accomplishment on their faces was enough to make me realize that I had to come back and do some baking activities with them at least twice a month.<br /><br /><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S5EdD0xp90I/AAAAAAAAAvg/9wC6WlE7GqI/s1600-h/DSC06310.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S5EdD0xp90I/AAAAAAAAAvg/9wC6WlE7GqI/s200/DSC06310.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445165376011368258" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S5EdDnGreDI/AAAAAAAAAvY/n4w3-XgMrgI/s1600-h/DSC06312.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S5EdDnGreDI/AAAAAAAAAvY/n4w3-XgMrgI/s200/DSC06312.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445165372341450802" border="0" /></a><br /></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">It was then that A and AH started talking of some of the children's circumstances and how they came to be residents at the foster home. My apprehension returned with a vengeance! As I sat there listening to AH recount the horrendous stories (I shall not divulge any stories here as they were told in confidence and I feel that our society has become desensitized by all the reports in the media. Sad to say that abuse has become an every day occurrence!) my mind struggled to comprehend what was being relayed.<br /><br />Oh God, how I fought the tears burning my lids, but I could not relent. I personally know so many females who have been victims of molestation or sexual abuse and each one had a different way of dealing with the humiliation and degradation. Most, if not all of them had suffered at the hands of a family member.<br /><br />Twenty years ago these tales were not spoken of because it was a taboo subject. Victims were not afforded support, the deed was never spoken of and everything was swept under the carpet so to speak.<br /><br />On one occasion I happened to be present when a family member confronted her daughter's abuser. He was a minor (16 years old) at the time, so his parents were present as well. The reaction of the boy's mother eluded to the mentality of yesteryear.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Narrow minded. </span><br /><br />Her words: "If it were my daughter, I would have said nothing!" I had to restrain myself from reacting in a very physical way!<br /><br />The questions I ask is: 'Where does it end??'<br /><br />How many more children are to suffer??<br /><br />Is this the sign of things to come??<br /><br />Is it going to get worse before it gets better??<br /><br />Do we realize what kind of legacy we're leaving behind for the next generation??<br /><br />What scares me most is that we are supposed to be evolving as a specie, yet everywhere are signs of the times of Jaahiliyah??<br /><br />That afternoon as I left the children behind to go home, my mind wandered endlessly. A and MS helped me carry the baking apparatus to my door. I greeted and hugged them before they made their way to their respective homes.<br /><br />As I closed the door behind me, I finally relented to the tears.........<br /><br />I cried for the children's pain...... I cried for the innocence lost......... and I cried for the many more who are still to suffer!<br /><br />MAY ALLAH PROTECT THEM ALL!<br /><br /><br /></span></span>Shahiedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04312009543065359187noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337127573501358304.post-32078813571191683842010-03-02T11:59:00.000+02:002010-03-02T12:00:41.182+02:00I don't know why you're so far away..........<object width="445" height="364"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ntAlhciRb_4&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ntAlhciRb_4&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"></embed></object>Shahiedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04312009543065359187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337127573501358304.post-64053390968131733052010-02-19T14:02:00.006+02:002010-02-19T17:04:21.434+02:00Here goes........ Part 2The home is situated in Eerste Rivier. I'm familiar with the location as my dad resided in the vicinity before moving to JHB. My sis and I had traveled to the station every day to take a train to school. Some memories came flashing back.<br /><br />A's words brought me out of my reverie, <span style="font-style: italic;">"We're here. Just look at their faces!!"</span> As I looked up, the children who were playing in front of the house spotted A's car and made their way to the gate. The expression on their faces were of pure joy!<br /><br />A didn't have a chance to get out of the car properly. The children swarmed her, all vying for her attention. She hugged and kissed every one of them. I stood one side, trying to be inconspicuous and trying very hard not to cry. Yeah, I know, I'm such a wuss! At that moment I felt a soft touch on my leg. As I looked down, I looked into these big, beautiful, fragile brown eyes. With her arms outstretched, the little girl beckoned me to pick her up.<br /><br />I leaned over and scooped her up. She was as light as a feather, dressed in pink pants and striped pink and white sweater. Her hair was beautifully braided. I hugged her fiercely and pecked her on the cheek. <span style="font-style: italic;">"Hello my darling. What's your name??"</span> I said. <span style="font-style: italic;">"Her name's Whitney," </span>said A. <span style="font-style: italic;">"Say hello to Aunty Shahieda,"</span> A coaxed her. Whitney just gave me a shy smile.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S36gwdXoW5I/AAAAAAAAAuA/EkSHaQcSL8A/s1600-h/DSC06267.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S36gwdXoW5I/AAAAAAAAAuA/EkSHaQcSL8A/s200/DSC06267.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439962154288044946" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left; font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Whitney with Mercia Lee and Bernie, a volunteer at the home<br /></span></div><br />I tried putting Whitney down to help MS take the goodies out of the car but she wouldn't let me. The other boys were so eager to help MS so I let them do their thing and walked to the entrance of the house. I was introduced to the foster mom, AP. And the other volunteers who came to lend a hand were busy in the kitchen. Aunty A is a granny who comes in to help AP with the washing of the children's laundry. During the whole time I was there she was busy with laundry! Imagine the amount of school clothes that needs to be washed for 16 children?? Where she got the energy from, God knows!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S36gvdlkeoI/AAAAAAAAAto/F9Zd0uf6t4k/s1600-h/DSC06254.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S36gvdlkeoI/AAAAAAAAAto/F9Zd0uf6t4k/s200/DSC06254.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439962137166641794" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: right; font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:85%;">AP in red, AA in navy blue and another volunteer.<br /></span></div><br />I was shown to an area where I could conduct the baking session. The children were so excited, all of them were falling over their feet to help set up. I decided to make a double batch of chocolate cuppies seeing that we were celebrating a birthday as well. I asked one of the bigger girls to help me start off and she began breaking the eggs into a bowl. Then a little boy helped measure the sugar. Another measured the flour for me, and another measured the cocoa, then the baking powder and so forth. Until all the ingredients needed for the cuppies were ready to be used.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: right; font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Me doing my thing<br /></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S36gv5g_SCI/AAAAAAAAAtw/kt4xeypwMoo/s1600-h/DSC06256.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 220px; height: 294px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S36gv5g_SCI/AAAAAAAAAtw/kt4xeypwMoo/s200/DSC06256.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439962144663619618" border="0" /></a><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S36gwEsCeAI/AAAAAAAAAt4/4_KaTpp1zKU/s1600-h/DSC06260.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S36gwEsCeAI/AAAAAAAAAt4/4_KaTpp1zKU/s200/DSC06260.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439962147662755842" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Congolese girl enjoyed herself thoroughly!!</span><br /></span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S36jZtl891I/AAAAAAAAAuQ/Cu7tcT-wPTA/s1600-h/DSC06272.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 260px; height: 194px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S36jZtl891I/AAAAAAAAAuQ/Cu7tcT-wPTA/s200/DSC06272.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439965062040975186" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />The little boy in blue who also wanted to mix!</span><br /></span><br />A younger Congolese girl started beating the eggs and the sugar till it was pale and thick. I explained what she was doing as she went along. The children were enthralled! A little boy touched me on the arm and asked if he could get a chance to mix, hehehehe, I acquiesced his request.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S36jaL1xADI/AAAAAAAAAuY/A673N0sT6zs/s1600-h/DSC06281.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S36jaL1xADI/AAAAAAAAAuY/A673N0sT6zs/s200/DSC06281.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439965070160363570" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">It's so chocolaty!!</span></span><br /></div><br />As I added the dry ingredients to the egg mixture, there were squeals of delight! I explained that the dry ingredients were to be added slowly and the mixture was not to be beaten very much. The mixture started changing color at this point and the children shouted with glee! They noted how chocolaty it was, licking their lips at the same time! Clearly, they were enjoying the demonstration. And so was I, so much so, that I had forgotten my apprehension.<br /><br />I then asked for a few tablespoons and fetched the cupcake holders. I had brought along the silicone ones I had bought in KL and the paper ones I had bought earlier at the supermarket. All the children gathered around the table as I gave each one a cup to fill. There were giggles and squeals as the dough was scooped and how messy it was too!! But that was part of the fun! Even Whitney wanted to get in on the action! MS' helped her onto the table where she helped herself to some dough.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:85%;">All the kids scooping dough into the cuppies!!<br /></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S36jaWcmcwI/AAAAAAAAAug/v618AfB1FFI/s1600-h/DSC06289.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S36jaWcmcwI/AAAAAAAAAug/v618AfB1FFI/s200/DSC06289.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439965073007604482" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S36jayu3VxI/AAAAAAAAAuo/DLBOt5zxhsc/s1600-h/DSC06293.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S36jayu3VxI/AAAAAAAAAuo/DLBOt5zxhsc/s200/DSC06293.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439965080600401682" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: right;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S36ldR5WSOI/AAAAAAAAAu4/8_WyIu768JQ/s1600-h/DSC06294.JPG"><br /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S36ldR5WSOI/AAAAAAAAAu4/8_WyIu768JQ/s1600-h/DSC06294.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 178px; height: 237px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S36ldR5WSOI/AAAAAAAAAu4/8_WyIu768JQ/s200/DSC06294.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439967322348865762" border="0" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Cousin MS helping Whitney with her cuppie</span></span><br /><br /><br />I retreated to the kitchen to switch on the oven. A had brought along her brother's mini oven because the stove at the home was not working. Ten minutes were spent trying to figure out how it worked, hahahaha. I also realized that my muffin tins were wayyyy too big to place in the oven. I prayed hard that the cuppies didn't flop as I wanted to see the children's faces when they saw the fruits of their labor. I also decided to place some of the cups in the microwave to save some time.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S36leooKhJI/AAAAAAAAAvQ/AsgwYpTWsFc/s1600-h/DSC06304.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S36leooKhJI/AAAAAAAAAvQ/AsgwYpTWsFc/s200/DSC06304.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439967345630676114" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S36leO3I7uI/AAAAAAAAAvI/Ep08rM3hspI/s1600-h/DSC06295.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S36leO3I7uI/AAAAAAAAAvI/Ep08rM3hspI/s200/DSC06295.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439967338714164962" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Hmmmm, me can't wait! Messy innit??!</span><br /></span><br /><br />I could hear the commotion from the kitchen still. Apparently some of the kids were already eating of the cuppies because they couldn't wait long enough for it to bake finish, hehehe. AP was scolding at them in a playful way. <span style="font-style: italic;">"If you're going to eat the dough now, there'll be nothing left to bake and we won't be able to have a birthday party,"</span> she told them. This revelation was enough to stop the children from finishing the dough off all together!!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Still to come: The birthday party and my reaction when I was told how some of the children came to be at the home.</span>Shahiedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04312009543065359187noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337127573501358304.post-53135751523044168752010-02-17T10:15:00.002+02:002010-02-17T13:40:10.660+02:00Here goes...........About two years back I had an epiphany with regards to upliftment in the community. I thought that I could offer baking lessons / demonstrations to those who wanted to learn. As one gets older, the need arises to want to give back to the community.<br /><br />Orphanages came to mind, children are quite impressionable and willing to learn.<br /><br />Two weeks ago I met A (albeit virtually), who is a FB contact of MS. I told A what I had in mind and she mentioned that she knew of a home where I could give the baking sessions. You can just imagine my excitement!! A and I exchanged contact details and arranged a time and date to get the project going. Fortunately for me, one of the children would be celebrating his birthday on the first session! Even more excitement!<br /><br />The day dawned cool and full of promise. I wasn't feeling very well, as I had been walking around the whole week with wet hair. I felt like I had a huge frog in my throat. My swimming sessions were doing me a world of good but I needed to get a waterproof cap to swim in. Not wanting to disappoint the kids, I popped some meds and made my way to the mall for some baking goodies. A would fetch me in the next hour.<br /><br />A had twisted MS' arm into joining us. So she would pick him up first, then me. I called A to find out what goodies she had bought already, not wanting to duplicate anything. During our conversation I heard the words <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">safe house / foster home</span>. The warning bells in my head were ringing like mad!!<br /><br />I kept thinking <span style="font-style: italic;">"How did I miss that??" </span>Surely I would have noted that it was a <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">safe house / foster home</span> and <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">NOT</span> an orphanage. A home for <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">abused</span> children. My mind was racing, I couldn't pull out now, even if I wanted to.<br /><br /><br />This bit of information changed everything.<br /><br />This bit of information opened doors to dark places I would rather not visit!<br /><br /><br />Breathing in deeply and trying to stay calm, I focused on getting out of the shopping mall and made my way home. I packed in all the goodies I would need for the baking session. By this time I was working on autopilot. This is what normally happens when the walls go up. It's my only means of shielding myself emotionally. A had arrived, MS helped me with the goodies to the car. I hugged and greeted A, jumped into the front seat and off we went.<br /><br />My apprehension dissipated a bit as A started speaking about the outstanding work being done at the home. The foster mother is a remarkable woman who often uses her own money (just over R1500.00) to care for the children left in her care. Majority of them have been abandoned and sexually abused by <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">family members</span>.<br /><br />Yes, I did say family members! This includes mothers, fathers and grandparents!<br /><br /><br />To be continued..............Shahiedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04312009543065359187noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337127573501358304.post-21572748866386908792010-02-15T16:38:00.003+02:002010-02-15T16:45:34.330+02:00Soothing my soulI need to blog about my weekend experience to get it out of my system and make peace with it, but for now I just wish to soothe my emotions with this song by Kenny G. Those who know me very well, will know that I am out of sorts when I start listening to his music constantly.<br /><br /><object width="445" height="364"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/rgloi1-x9_w&hl=en_US&fs=1&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/rgloi1-x9_w&hl=en_US&fs=1&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"></embed></object>Shahiedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04312009543065359187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337127573501358304.post-6937815406791762072010-02-11T15:17:00.004+02:002010-02-11T15:37:01.484+02:00“Why are you hiding your body??”<span style="font-size:100%;">B asked while we were getting coffee before returning to my desk. The common question was normally:<br /></span><br /><p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">“Why do you wear a headscarf??” or </span></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">“Why do you cover up?”<br /></span></p><br /> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">This was the first time someone used the word ‘hiding.’</span></p><p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">“What makes you think I’m hiding my body??” I asked with a smile. “Well, you’re slim and such a beautiful woman, if I were you I wouldn’t hide my body at all!!” B said. “But I don’t see the need to expose myself, I feel comfortable with what I am wearing and I love wearing my headscarf. Its part of who I am, and beauty is in the eye of the beholder no?? Ultimately, it’s a personal choice one makes.” was my response.</span></p><p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">“To be quite honest, I wouldn’t feel comfortable wearing short dresses, short skirts or tight pants. “Neither would I feel comfortable wearing garments that have no sleeves at all, unless I wear something underneath,” I went on explaining.</span></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">“And furthermore, it’s an extension of my religion to dress modestly. Only males who are closely related to me, will see me without my headscarf and that pertains to being indoors only,” I added.</span></p><p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><span style="font-size:100%;">Ever since I was a young girl, I wore hijab. My dad was adamant with regards to this. The moment I walked out the door I had to make sure that my scarf was on my head and that my body was covered. I do not regret it for one moment! Being the oldest child in the family, I had to set an example.<br /></span><p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">My mother says a woman wearing hijab is at her most beautiful. It doesn’t matter what race, color or creed, wearing it sets her apart. While visiting KL, I fell in love with the tudung. It’s such a simple, yet beautiful headdress. All you have to do is slip it on and off you go!</span></p><p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S3QFml-QUkI/AAAAAAAAAtg/ErWfMJIZFH8/s1600-h/DSC06131.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S3QFml-QUkI/AAAAAAAAAtg/ErWfMJIZFH8/s320/DSC06131.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436976810729427522" border="0" /></a></div><p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal">My favorite tudung!<br /></p><p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">There was a time in my life when I discarded the wearing of hijab, it was just after the divorce. I felt quite rebellious, wanting to place blame for a marriage gone wrong! Astaghfirullah! May Allah forgive me for my shortcomings! But that phase soon passed when I started attracting too much attention from the male species. The wolf whistles and comments were enough to stop me in my tracks. Grrrrrrrr!</span></p><p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">While looking through some photos I had on my camera, B spied one of me not wearing hijab. “Oh my gosh, that’s you without your headscarf!” she exclaimed. With a look of total astonishment she said, “I understand now why you cover up, you’ll get yourself into a whole lot of trouble if you didn’t!”</span></p><p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">B was obviously being very dramatic, but she was right, I would get myself into a whole lot of trouble with Him!</span></p>Shahiedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04312009543065359187noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337127573501358304.post-72155456004178904042010-01-21T16:56:00.002+02:002010-01-21T17:06:01.973+02:00Please accept my humble apologies!<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S1htNMjKM5I/AAAAAAAAAtY/mmloqz9aJow/s1600-h/comic-book-swearing.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429209424269554578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 222px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S1htNMjKM5I/AAAAAAAAAtY/mmloqz9aJow/s320/comic-book-swearing.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Before I continue updating my blog with regards to my trip to Malaysia, I’d like to clear up a misunderstanding with my SA family and friends.<br /><br />It has come to my attention that there is some confusion with regards to my use of the bahasa word ‘Kak.’ Please let me explain.<br /><br />The full word in bahasa is ‘kakak’ which means sister, in short ‘kak’ meaning sis. During my stay in Malaysia, I was very hesitant and still am, to vocalize the word amongst my Malaysian friends. My hesitancy is / was not out of disrespect but more out of offending the next person.<br /><br />Why you may ask??<br /><br />Because the word ‘kak’ in Afrikaans is actually a profanity! LOL! And use of the word would raise more than just an eyebrow! So, on this side of the world I would be cursing should I use it. You can just imagine the look of disdain on my kids’ faces when they found me reading ‘Kak Teh’s’ blog.<br /><br />“Mummy, why are you reading that lady’s blog??”<br /><br />“The Aunty’s name has a swear word in it!”<br /><br />And so, mummy had to explain. After explaining what the word actually meant, the kids finally relented. After the first few days of learning the ‘new’ word, whenever their cousins would visit they’d go into a whole descriptive analysis of the word itself. And this would end with a whole bang lot of kids giggling.<br /><br />So, to my SA readers, please forgive me if I have offended you in any way. That was surely not my intention. It serves me right I suppose, I should have explained beforehand.<br /><br />And to my Malaysian friends, please do not feel offended if I do not address you as you should be.<br /><br />It’s a catch 22 situation innit??</div>Shahiedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04312009543065359187noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337127573501358304.post-72266617496325246802010-01-14T00:16:00.004+02:002010-01-14T01:40:05.482+02:00First blog entry for 2010I have been threatening to blog since my return from KL, but haven't had the time to until now, that is. With the kids who started school earlier this week, me having to return to normalcy at work, you can just imagine what a mission that has been. I had hardly set foot on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Capetonian</span> soil when my phone started ringing for cake once again!! <div><br /></div><div>My stay in KL was an awesome one!! Made memorable by the many <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">bloggers</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Facebook</span> friends and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Sayang</span> of course. I had no idea I would meet up and network with so many. And the Malaysian hospitality was out of this world. </div><div><br /></div><div>My first few days there saw me being taken around by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Faridah</span>, </div><div></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426369333649096306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S05WKKg6PnI/AAAAAAAAAsw/WJ65gN2BApY/s320/Various+535.jpg" border="0" /></div><div></div><div>shopping for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">tudungs</span> and various other goodies, attending a book launch at the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Marriott</span> Hotel, </div><div></div><div></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426369338386515202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S05WKcKZhQI/AAAAAAAAAs4/ym_F2KojBoA/s320/Various+538.jpg" border="0" /></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426369345653875602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S05WK3PEo5I/AAAAAAAAAtA/5lst-_zqSS4/s320/Various+539.jpg" border="0" /></div><div></div><div></div><div>the wedding reception of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Kak</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Teh's</span> nephew</div><div></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426369348132241202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S05WLAd9fzI/AAAAAAAAAtI/j3-bTq4_DAs/s320/Various+542.jpg" border="0" /></div><div></div><div>and dinner at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Yani's</span> home. Thereafter, I was invited to the Lake Club for dinner by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Kak</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Puteri</span>. Chinese cuisine was on the menu and I had my first try of tofu. Man, it was good! </div><div><br /></div><div>After dinner we made our way to a karaoke session. No, I cannot sing to save my life, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">hehehe</span>!! But did <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Kak</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Puteri</span> sing! She has an amazing voice.</div><div></div><div></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426369360319832914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/S05WLt3tY1I/AAAAAAAAAtQ/9Xhm4VrTQNU/s320/Various+579.jpg" border="0" /></div><div></div><div>After leaving the Lake Club, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Yani</span> and husband decided to take me to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Petaling</span> street. Here you can find all branded goods at the fraction of the cost. Unfortunately by the time we arrived most of the stalls were being packed up.</div><div><br /></div><div>To be continued..........................</div>Shahiedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04312009543065359187noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337127573501358304.post-11248832713203994772009-12-13T20:32:00.005+02:002009-12-13T22:25:14.561+02:00Nisa<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SyVF6J5x-dI/AAAAAAAAAsI/LThqh8EroRI/s1600-h/nisa+008.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414810992375888338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SyVF6J5x-dI/AAAAAAAAAsI/LThqh8EroRI/s320/nisa+008.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />She's been a constant support to me from the word go. From the day we met, there was a dynamic connection that would change our lives for the better, and bring with it a friendship that would see me through many a trials and tribulations. <div><br /></div><div>Nisa & I met almost ten years ago when I arrived at her home for a job interview. I had no idea that within the next six months my marriage would fall apart and she would be my fiercest cheerleader. Keeping me sane and reminding me constantly that I was stronger than I thought I was and that the kids were my number one priority. </div><div><br /></div><div>I threw myself into my work, but slowly begun opening up to her with my woes. We were so similar in our thinking, hobbies, reading material and even the experiences we had as children. I had found a confidante, someone I could share everything with, who understood exactly where I was coming from. </div><div><br /></div><div>We worked together for four years, when her marriage hit rock bottom. I was there, her constant support, her shoulder to cry on, her confidante. I identified with her in so many ways. She, like I, tried her best to cushion her children from the after effects of a messy divorce. I think women are built that way, nurturing protectors, no matter the cost. </div><div><br /></div><div>Because the business she had was co-owned with her then husband. The situation at the office became somewhat tense and not conducive to amicable working conditions. According to her husband I was on 'her side' so he made it quite difficult for both of us. It was this reason that forced me to find another job. </div><div><br /></div><div>That didn't stop us from keeping contact though. Emails, phone calls and sms'es let me know how she was coping. This mode of communication was the scene for the next 2 years. Then I received an sms to let me know that she was remarrying. I was ecstatic! I had met the guy before. It was someone she could really relate to, he was after all a very good friend first before he became her husband.</div><div><br /></div><div>After that we lost touch and recently I received an email from her asking me to visit. She missed the conversations and according to her, I was the only person beside her present husband, who knew what made her tick. Two weeks ago, the kids and I visited her. Was I blown away by the transformation that had taken place with her and her home. </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414810981280882706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SyVF5gkhoBI/AAAAAAAAAr4/mIVnQpl2Gek/s320/nisa+003.jpg" border="0" /><br /></div><div>When I last saw her, there were renovations taking place. She, being the artistic type, had done the renovations herself with the help of hubby dearest, who was a <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.signatureonline.co.za">building contractor</a>. They make such a great team!! Her home is a tribute to her sense of decor and style. She loves hosting family get togethers and parties. </div><div> </div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414810988975320594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SyVF59PBbhI/AAAAAAAAAsA/9z_geTF-6ZY/s320/nisa+007.jpg" border="0" /><br /></div><div> </div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414810998765588898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SyVF6htNEaI/AAAAAAAAAsQ/EMfZF2TzJ88/s320/nisa+016.jpg" border="0" /></div><div> </div><div> </div><div>She also does abstract oil paintings and was commissioned by a hotel in Long Street to provide them with 150 paintings in one week!!</div><div> </div><div> </div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414811740035905138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SyVGlrJ0dnI/AAAAAAAAAso/PnFMyoAZx7E/s320/nisa+012.jpg" border="0" /><br /></div><div>Yes, I said one week! And each painting was different from the next! I was in awe with the paintings that was done during the time I had visited. Clearly she was able to express herself better in the new environment she was in. She had grown tremendously!</div><div> </div><div> </div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414811004796944706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SyVF64LMQUI/AAAAAAAAAsY/n2q1LJcgeAA/s320/nisa+013.jpg" border="0" /><br /></div><div>She couldn't believe how fast my kids have grown up. And she was in awe of me too, of the continued growth and the milestones that have been reached. </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414811733300778914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SyVGlSECl6I/AAAAAAAAAsg/8zRc1GNn3M4/s320/nisa+017.jpg" border="0" /><br /></div><div>For she, like me, knows exactly what it's like to hit rock bottom and then lift your head high and take whatever life brings your way and make it work!!</div><div><br /></div><div>No matter what!!</div><div> </div><div><br /> </div><div></div>Shahiedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04312009543065359187noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337127573501358304.post-82544035880459492212009-12-09T19:10:00.005+02:002009-12-09T19:50:33.639+02:00The latest addition to the family<div><div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/Sx_gp9BfSDI/AAAAAAAAArk/RttMsAXPxLM/s1600-h/DSC05326.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413292288482691122" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/Sx_gp9BfSDI/AAAAAAAAArk/RttMsAXPxLM/s320/DSC05326.JPG" border="0" /></a>On the 13th November 2009, I received an sms from my mum. It read, "Faghriyya rushed to hospital this morning!!"</div><br /><br /><div>Everyone was taken by surprise because the little one was only due by the end of November, 27th November to be exact. Faghriyya's little bundle of joy couldn't wait that long, hehehe. And mother was receiving an early birthday present as she celebrated her birthday on the 14th, a day after the little one's arrival.</div><br /><br /><div>Just two weeks before his arrival, Faghriyya and I were saying how funny it would be if baby was born before the 21st November. This would make him a Scorpio and that would mean that mum, dad and baby were Scorpios, eek! </div><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/Sx_gqF4Ok5I/AAAAAAAAArs/GYgYg8I1U58/s1600-h/DSC05322.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413292290859766674" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/Sx_gqF4Ok5I/AAAAAAAAArs/GYgYg8I1U58/s320/DSC05322.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>Imagine that??!! Three Scorpios under one roof! </div><br /><br /><div>The parents had not chosen a name for him yet, as they were too elated that the pregnancy had gone so well. Faghriyya had growths on her ovaries previously and was struggling to conceive. One of her ovaries were eventually removed. The news of her conception was therefore greeted with much elation, Alghumdulillah!! </div><br /><br /><div>The name giving ceremony took place the Sunday after his birth. On arriving at Faghriyya's home, I was ecstatic to discover that they had chosen the name, Muhammad Shahied, Masha-Allah! I finally had a namesake in the family, hehehe!</div><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/Sx_gpuae0aI/AAAAAAAAArc/-yWJayGoyVo/s1600-h/DSC05323.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413292284560986530" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/Sx_gpuae0aI/AAAAAAAAArc/-yWJayGoyVo/s320/DSC05323.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>May Allah guide him on the right path. May he be an obedient boy to his parents and elders. May joy, happiness & prosperity shine on him always, Insha-Allah Ameen!</div></div></div>Shahiedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04312009543065359187noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337127573501358304.post-75111046626237595882009-12-08T19:45:00.003+02:002009-12-08T21:05:48.862+02:00FIFA 2010 fever hits Cape Town<div><div><div><div><div>I'm not really a soccer fan and haven't sat down to watch a game. But the furore surrounding the recent draw that took place at the CTICC had me glued to my tv screen!</div><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/Sx6gmsXAimI/AAAAAAAAAq0/41CAuhvLn6I/s1600-h/DSC05528.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412940388749052514" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/Sx6gmsXAimI/AAAAAAAAAq0/41CAuhvLn6I/s320/DSC05528.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div>South Africa, or Cape Town I should rather say, has proved that it can rise to the occasion when required to host an event of this magnitude, if the draw is anything to go by. The FIFA Fest party that was hosted in Long Street, Cape Town, was a huge success, drawing something like 60 000 people! And that was only the count by late afternoon, more people made their way to the venue after leaving their offices for the day. </div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/Sx6gnBa4COI/AAAAAAAAAq8/hZ3zaSsh0VQ/s1600-h/DSC05542.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412940394402416866" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/Sx6gnBa4COI/AAAAAAAAAq8/hZ3zaSsh0VQ/s320/DSC05542.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><div>Seeing as our offices were a stones throw away from the venue Caroline, Blonde, Roger & I decided to take a walk during lunch. We were amazed by the activities taking place already. The weather was perfect with Table Mountain looming in the background. A few local SA bands were expected to play throughout the day, Alister Izobel was on stage during the time we were there. And had the crowd singing to the song 'Welcome to Cape Town'</div><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/Sx6got8z9nI/AAAAAAAAArU/KNmJcHgt4QQ/s1600-h/DSC05532.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412940423535785586" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/Sx6got8z9nI/AAAAAAAAArU/KNmJcHgt4QQ/s320/DSC05532.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div>Also making an appearance were the contestants of the Miss World Pageant being hosted in Johannesburg within the next few days. There were cultural bands playing drums & xylophones, instruments associated with the beat of Africa. </div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/Sx6gnuffiHI/AAAAAAAAArE/Jc8HJ1dtSnc/s1600-h/DSC05540.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412940406501378162" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/Sx6gnuffiHI/AAAAAAAAArE/Jc8HJ1dtSnc/s320/DSC05540.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/Sx6goLyGjjI/AAAAAAAAArM/-OyNsANK190/s1600-h/DSC05541.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412940414364061234" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/Sx6goLyGjjI/AAAAAAAAArM/-OyNsANK190/s320/DSC05541.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><div>While we were walking around in Long street, Remi had decided to get some Nandos for lunch. Waiting for his lunch he noticed a few guys dressed in suits, upon closer inspection, he realized that David Beckham was standing a few feet away!! He managed to pull out his phone to snap a pic, not a very good one of Beckham though. But what was quite hilarious about his pic, was the fact that everyone in Nandos had managed to snap away with their hand phones!! And he had caught this commotion in his pic, hahahaha!!</div><br /><br /><div>I sure hope that Cape Town gets to host the final match, it's sure to be a thriller! I can picture it now: Green point stadium filled to capacity and everyone on their feet with the excitement of the game! Not forgetting the vukuzela being blown until the sound reaches fever pitch! </div><br /><br /><div>Exciting times lay ahead innit!!</div></div></div></div></div>Shahiedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04312009543065359187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337127573501358304.post-18222024925184466632009-11-06T14:08:00.001+02:002009-11-06T14:10:58.501+02:00Reflections<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SvQSF_M1MbI/AAAAAAAAAqs/vA0B3-HLCYs/s1600-h/DSC05150.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400961747197964722" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SvQSF_M1MbI/AAAAAAAAAqs/vA0B3-HLCYs/s320/DSC05150.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>In two days I celebrate my 36th birthday. Did I just say 36?? Let me rephrase that. In two days I celebrate my 21st birthday, hehhehe. Just kidding!!<br /><br />Another year has passed by so very swiftly. And as I look back, I am humbly grateful for another year that the Almighty has sought to bless me with. My time has been filled with beautiful moments, tears, sadness but most of all cherished memories.<br /><br />I have had the opportunity to rekindle long lost childhood friendships and cement family bonds. Each relationship has opened my heart that much more, allowing for fulfillment and acceptance to the beauty of human relations. It certainly has been an amazing road thus far.<br /><br />Then there’s Sayang, *SIGH*<br /><br />What can I say, but, that my cup runneth over!!<br /><br />Every person that has been placed in my path, has been there for a purpose. Helping me to see differently when I cannot do so on my own. I am utterly grateful for your unwavering support, it’s amazing having cheerleaders like you!!<br /><br />May I ask that you keep me in your duas / prayers, always, for that is all I really need. If there has been anything that I have said to hurt or offend you in any way, may I take this opportunity to humbly ask your forgiveness. And may your days be bright, beautiful and full of Allah blessings Ameen!!<br /><br />I plan to have supper with family and friends over the weekend. On Sunday all will converge on my home for cake & tea. (The birthday girl has to bake her own birthday cake because her family refuses anything else, hahaha. What can I say?? If you’ve got it, you’ve got it ya??)<br /><br />Fa bie ay ala ie rabie koema toe kathie baan??</div>Shahiedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04312009543065359187noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337127573501358304.post-89455663095342952792009-10-21T21:37:00.015+02:002009-10-25T20:19:38.578+02:00Wedding bells Part 1<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SuSVd1JwxkI/AAAAAAAAAqk/E94joi0p-iE/s1600-h/DSC04899.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396602593213466178" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 180px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SuSVd1JwxkI/AAAAAAAAAqk/E94joi0p-iE/s320/DSC04899.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><div><div><div><div>Nadia, the kids & I climbed into the car & made our way, in haste, to Masjidul Quds. It was after 9am already and we were worried that we might have missed the start of Shaheema's nikaah. An event I so didn't want to miss.<br /><br /><div>First we had to drop off the mini quiche, I made earlier that morning, at my mom's to be baked. This was part of the buffet breakfast to be served after the nikaah. Fearing the worst as we made our way to the entrance of the masjid, I noticed some of the cousins standing and waiting. Which only meant one thing. The bride was late, pheww!! And according to one of the cousins, Raafiek was panicking already, hehehe. </div><br /><div>Just then, the limo pulled up. And as Shaheema stepped from the car, everyone standing at the entrance gasped. The bride was wearing a red & gold creation made by herself. I had to hold back tears, didn't want the makeup to run :P</div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SuSSbnOBwRI/AAAAAAAAAqU/jAH20L7BJCU/s1600-h/DSC04869.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396599256578638098" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 180px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SuSSbnOBwRI/AAAAAAAAAqU/jAH20L7BJCU/s320/DSC04869.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>I snapped a few pics before she rushed inside the masjid. All the ladies made their way upstairs and settled down before the nikaah started. Nadia realised that she had forgotten her camera in the car, and so she rushed back out to fetch it. Ruwaydah, Shaheema's best friend, was also in attendance with her little one. <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SuSOLyG4_OI/AAAAAAAAAp0/vcrSXzRZYe8/s1600-h/DSC04874.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396594586577075426" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 180px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SuSOLyG4_OI/AAAAAAAAAp0/vcrSXzRZYe8/s320/DSC04874.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /></div><br /><br /><div>As I listened to Sheikh Abduraghmaan Alexander, a sense of peace settled over me. Shaheema's big day had finally arrived and it promised to be a day that would be forever etched in my memory. Another bride arrived, dressed in silver & white, she was overwhelmed with tears. Both nikaahs took place in tandem, Masha-Allah. Aunty Fayeeza was overcome with emotion and Shaheema comforted her mom trying very hard not to cry as well.<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SuSNhc2bTvI/AAAAAAAAAps/1IQYj2XwYCA/s1600-h/DSC04892.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396593859316371186" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 180px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SuSNhc2bTvI/AAAAAAAAAps/1IQYj2XwYCA/s320/DSC04892.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>When the nikaah was done, Raafiek made his way upstairs to greet his bride and present her wedding ring. Congratulations were in order and many hugs exchanged as the excitement permeated through family members of the bridal couple. </div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SuSOsnG2VaI/AAAAAAAAAp8/tGlIvdGWVng/s1600-h/DSC04902.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396595150559794594" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 180px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SuSOsnG2VaI/AAAAAAAAAp8/tGlIvdGWVng/s320/DSC04902.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>Everyone made their way to the hall where breakfast was being served. The bridal couple would arrive there by a slower mode of transport this time around. <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SuSPpdQFlSI/AAAAAAAAAqE/EZx8tuQiM5Q/s1600-h/DSC04911.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396596195886208290" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SuSPpdQFlSI/AAAAAAAAAqE/EZx8tuQiM5Q/s320/DSC04911.JPG" border="0" /></a>Horse & carriage!! It was quite hilarious noting motorists reaction when they spotted the horse & carriage making it's way down the main road. Certainly a sight that one doesn't witness everyday! </div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div> </div><div>Breakfast was a delish spread of savories including quiche, pies, samoosas, cocktail rolls, half moons and potato rolls with a secret filling. Then, to satisfy the sweet tooth, there was chocolate chip muffins, crumpets topped with strawberry jam & fresh cream, pieces of carrot cake topped with cream cheese icing, YUMS!</div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396597555169193522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SuSQ4k-Z7jI/AAAAAAAAAqM/Wy8NU8nySog/s320/DSC04915.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><div>It was really great having to catch up with family members you only get to see at functions. But not so great when they inquire about myself getting hitched, sheesh! Somehow that always seems to crop up somewhere, hehehe. </div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SuSUt1XzqRI/AAAAAAAAAqc/mBlJzaMRGIQ/s1600-h/DSC04925.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396601768638654738" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SuSUt1XzqRI/AAAAAAAAAqc/mBlJzaMRGIQ/s320/DSC04925.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Shahiedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04312009543065359187noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337127573501358304.post-78110612049778035132009-10-05T13:20:00.010+02:002009-10-05T15:03:53.579+02:00Sharfa<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SsnpjeBceGI/AAAAAAAAApM/9r9MeRQCumw/s1600-h/sharfa.jpg"></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SsnprVehhNI/AAAAAAAAApU/uh9119C67x0/s1600-h/sharfa.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389095359834326226" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 130px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 97px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SsnprVehhNI/AAAAAAAAApU/uh9119C67x0/s400/sharfa.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><br /><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>Sharfa is a very good friend of my sister's. Having met her a few years ago, I was always struck by her beautiful smile. But there was a sadness in her eyes which was unexplained until I came to know of her life experience.<br /><br /></div><div>At the age of about 12 years she lost her mother to cancer. This incident was to change her life completely. Being at such a young age one can just imagine what she was going through! </div><div><br /></div><div>Sharfa is now 24 years old but the effects of having lost her mother at such a young age lingers. There are times, in conversations, she trances and one wonders what she's thinking. At first I thought it weird but I've come to see that, that it is just how she handles her situation. I was curious as to how she managed through her life, as I have been blessed to have my mother through all the stages of my life so far. When conversations were steered in that direction, there were many tears shed and my admiration and love for her just grew even more. </div><div><br /></div><div>I admire her strength and perseverance tremendously, for she had excelled at school and when she started working she took on the responsibility of looking after her younger brother. Running her home, working and studying through UNISA to obtain her Chartered accounting degree hasn't phased this lass one bit!! For reasons not explained, her father has assumed a low profile in his children's lives. A sad but true occurrence in today's day and age.</div><div><br /></div><div>When she celebrated her 21st birthday a few years ago, a few of her friends, including myself & Raihaana, decided to throw her a birthday bash. Everyone knew she wouldn't make a fuss, so they took the onus on themselves to organize something for her. Sharfa was taken out for the day and the friends were given a key to her home so that everything could be set up. You can just imagine the look of surprise on her face when she came home to all of us waiting for her!! She never suspected a thing!! She enjoyed herself thoroughly, especially the chocolate mousse birthday cake I had made.<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/Ssnmo4ls_kI/AAAAAAAAAo0/NLh56GAWKVI/s1600-h/DSC04721.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389092019185188418" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/Ssnmo4ls_kI/AAAAAAAAAo0/NLh56GAWKVI/s320/DSC04721.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I attended her wedding yesterday and what a radiant bride she made!! As she walked into the hall, Raihaana and I looked at each other, we both wanted to cry. The beautiful girl with the sad eyes was finally having a happy ending! * sniff, sniff *</div><div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SsnnHr9_fVI/AAAAAAAAAo8/tK800o1f_fc/s1600-h/DSC04718.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389092548373347666" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SsnnHr9_fVI/AAAAAAAAAo8/tK800o1f_fc/s320/DSC04718.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div align="right"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div align="right"></div><div></div><div></div><div>She has married into a beautiful family who have vowed to love and care for her as their own. This was evident by the beautiful reception presented to the guests and the warm welcome offered by her parents-in-law. They are truly blessed!!</div><div><br /><br /><br /> </div><div></div><div></div><div>My wish for her with the beginning of a new phase in her life: May Allah continue to smile on you and your husband, Ashiq. May your married days be filled with only happiness and joy, for you so rightly deserve this and more. May you be blessed with beautiful children who will carry on the legacy of your strength and perseverance throughout, Insha-Allah Ameen!!</div><div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/Ssnn1z1e1gI/AAAAAAAAApE/ScaGrb-ucP0/s1600-h/DSC04705.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389093340759119362" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/Ssnn1z1e1gI/AAAAAAAAApE/ScaGrb-ucP0/s320/DSC04705.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="right">My gift to the bridal couple</div>Shahiedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04312009543065359187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337127573501358304.post-69353436868937129092009-09-28T22:53:00.004+02:002009-09-29T00:04:41.650+02:00Two weeks left and countingIt seems like just the other day Shaheema had announced her intention to tie the knot, now we're down to the wire with just two weeks left to her big day.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SsEumzeNmsI/AAAAAAAAAos/Y0QQDxABR4M/s1600-h/DSC04654.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386637873498659522" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SsEumzeNmsI/AAAAAAAAAos/Y0QQDxABR4M/s400/DSC04654.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div align="left">Some of the cousins who will taking part in Shaheema's wedding</div><br /><br />Excitement is sure the order of the day. Last night was spent at her home finishing off wedding favors. The entourage's dresses have all been completed and fittings have been done. Aqeedah is morning bridesmaid, Uthmaan & Ghaalietha is part of the afternoon group.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386637852086462210" style="WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SsEuljtJZwI/AAAAAAAAAoU/pEgNpYRnIuk/s400/DSC04332.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br />Shaheema with the unfinished wedding favors<br /><br /><br /><br />I have been asked to make dessert, chocolate mousse to be exact, for 600 hundred people (00)<br />Yes, you read right, I did say 600 hundred people!! I don't think I want to see chocolate for a whole while after that!!<br /><br /><br />Then there's the issue about me having to make a speech as well. Gosh, Shaheema sure knows how to put me on the spot. I prefer being a wallflower, inconspicuous, not having the guests' attention on me. This is something I cannot weasel my way out of now, baaaaaah!! So, I'll just have to get rid of the stage fright and do my thing.<br /><br /><br />Shawaal month sees a lot of weddings taking place this side of the world. Abubaker tied the knot on 24 September 2009, may Allah guide his marriage to the best of understanding Insha-Allah Ameen. Then, 4 October 2009 sees Sharfa tying the knot as well. I'm to make her wedding cake, which I'm very excited about. And then Shaheema, who will marry on the 11 October 2009. Which means that so far, there's a wedding taking place every week, sheesh!!<br /><br /><br />I wonder if they realize what they're getting themselves into, hehehe???<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SsEumC92MtI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Yu1iyGq_bPU/s1600-h/DSC04665.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386637860478005970" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SsEumC92MtI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Yu1iyGq_bPU/s400/DSC04665.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Abubaker & his bride, Fayrouz as well as his parents<br /><br /><br /><br />On another note, Adiela will be giving birth in the next two weeks as well. It's her first little one on the way and she's very excited but scared too. And Fagriyyah is due by the end of November Insha-Allah, her first little one too. May Allah give them both the strength needed Insha-Allah. And may the little ones bring their parents boundless joy & happiness Insha-Allah Ameen!!<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SsEumXleFLI/AAAAAAAAAok/t0qvLi0uY_o/s1600-h/DSC04644.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386637866012906674" style="WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Cjbe3NPjTME/SsEumXleFLI/AAAAAAAAAok/t0qvLi0uY_o/s400/DSC04644.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><p>Fagriyyah, Mubeen & Raihaana</p><p> </p>Shahiedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04312009543065359187noreply@blogger.com2