I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For

I am currently in Nablus, Palestine, listening to the call to prayer resonate throughout the city. It has been two weeks since Laura and I jumped the Atlantic Ocean to begin this venture to see the West Bank and work with the Near East Foundation. I have been spending most of my morning and the beginnings of this afternoon reflecting on things.

We had to connect through Newark Liberty International Airport to get to Tel Aviv, Israel. First, all passengers were required to wait in the general terminal area away from the gate, which was a closed off area. Hebrew, Arabic, English, and French circled about us. There were Orthodox Jews, Muslims, Americans, Asians, and all other sorts of ethnicities waiting to board. As soon as they permitted us into the actual gate’s seating area, all passengers had to go through another security checkpoint. Everyone had their bags searched, belongings emptied, and bodies frisked. There was a small girl, no more than six years old, who went before me, and she was treated as if she was a 40-year-old man with a record. I remember wandering what I had gotten myself into.

Ten hours later we landed safely in Tel Aviv. Walking through the airport, the excitement began to build. This continued until we reached border patrol. I asked them not to stamp our passports since we travel a lot and anticipate on going to countries that do not permit the Israeli stamp.

Officer: “No stamp? Okay. This happens a lot.”

Me: “Thank you. I appreciate it. It is a shame that it has to happen.”

“What is your father and grandfather’s name?”

“Jalil Hakim and Syed Morteza Hakim.”

Within 15 seconds, he handed my passport to another officer, who had me go sit in a sectioned off area. Laura kept me company even though they let her through immediately. There was a Pakistani businessman, a white man who visited once a year, and the rest were Arabic. The tension was brewing and it was truly a frustrating time. They called each of us in one by one for questioning. The Pakistani gentleman became fed up after a while and booked a return flight for the same day on his phone.

The first interrogator asked for my father and grandfather’s name, religion, what I was doing there, who did I know, and so on and so forth. He was somewhat polite. The second was very rude and didn’t seem to comprehend my answers.

“Where is your mother from and when did she go to the US?”

“The Philippines and she was seven, so it was about 1971.”

“And your father?”

“He is from Iran and he was in his last year of high school, it was after the Islamic Revolution, but at the start of the Gulf War, so about….”

“Which Gulf War? You know there were two.”

“Yes, I know that. I am trying to give you an accurate time frame here. He married my mother in 1985, so it must have been 1984 that he moved to Texas.”

“So your parents are married?”

“Yes. They’ve been married for almost 27 years.”

“What is your religion?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Your father is Muslim. Why aren’t you a Muslim?”

“Yes, he is, but he obviously isn’t that strict since he married a Catholic.”

“I don’t understand. Are you baptized?”

“No. My father is Muslim and my mother is Catholic. They didn’t force a certain religion upon me. God is great, He loves me, and I need to be the best person I can be.”

“Why don’t you have a religion?”

“I feel like I just answered that.”

And it continued on like that for a while… They kept me in that waiting room and questioning me for four hours, which is not too bad from what I have been told.

We traveled for another five hours to get to Nablus. Getting through Israel was hell. I do not understand what is going on in their heads. More than half of the security force looks younger than me, and they have their guns in one hand while they are texting on their phones with the other. It is very a scary situation. I asked them for directions and they wave me off with, “Sorry, no English,” and they go back to sending their messages. If I ask a second question, or bother them again, then I get an agitated look and a stern, “NO ENGLISH.”

When we arrived in Palestine, I asked for directions. The man said he didn’t understand English, but he went out of his way to find someone who did so that they could translate for us. Everyone is like this. It is amazing how willing they are to help a foreigner from a country that helped give away their homeland and not help them towards statehood.

'Till I Can Get My Satisfaction

I spent the second half of break recovering from an infection in my lymph nodes.

I spent all break attempting to make everyone happy, and realized one thing: It is extremely difficult to completely please anyone.

No matter how many visits to my grandparents, there will never be enough. No matter how difficult the subject, an A- is still higher than a B+. No matter how many years you’ve been teaching, mentoring and tutoring, it means nothing if it can’t get you an interview for that instructional assistant position.

I don’t understand why no one is satisfied anymore and we’re always demanding more and more and more and more, etc. “Yes, we noticed that you taught middle school students in Houston’s Fifth Ward for a couple of years, and rock climbing to special needs students for a few years as well, but can you tap dance while juggling? Oh, that’s a shame.” I don't mind high expectations, that's what causes progress, but some demands are just near impossible.

We have become so dependent on everything else to bring us some sense of fulfillment. It is amazing how no one works for anything anymore. Everyone wants everything so bad, but they’re incredibly contradictory and/or lazy.

“I want to learn Spanish, but my Rosetta Stone isn’t GIVING me results, so I don’t see the point in trying anymore.”

“I’m so broke that I could barely afford my stupid textbook, now I have no money. I am going to complain about it on Facebook, right after I post a picture of this hot new dress I bought for the weekend.”

“I want to lose weight, but these pills I’ve been taking haven’t been working. Can you get me a Coke from the fridge while you’re up?”

“I want a better relationship with this person, but I don’t see why I have to invest the time and effort to talk to them. Can’t they just message me instead?”

“I work all the time and pick up overtime to provide for my kids, but when I get home late, I am too tired to talk to them and make sure everything’s okay.”

I know I sound incredibly cynical, but I am sure everyone has witnessed some variation of this. I am going to acknowledge that I have been super lazy at some point or another. I just wish more people take notice of their problems and take the initiative to do something. Make time to get it done and don't look for the easy way out.

On a side note, I am also frustrated that I’ve been scolded at for spending New Year’s in Mexico City, especially since it is such a beautiful place. Even the guy scanning my passport at immigration couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t spend it in the U.S. and go to a dangerous and dirty country like Mexico, and I felt stupid because I actually had to explain myself to this ignorant bastard to pass through. I have three years left to use my parents’ flight benefits and I’m not going to let it go to waste. That’s that. I’ve been to Sydney, Amsterdam, Las Vegas, Cancun, and Niagara Falls in 2011. Why should I need anyone’s approval to go anywhere at anytime?

Try to stop me.

The District Sleeps Alone Tonight

Nadia Hakim, stranded at an airport, big surprise.

Well, well, well... Washington Dulles International... We meet again.

I recently turned 23. I forgot my birthday once the day actually came around. I was in the computer lab working on some of the page layouts for public diplomacy’s publication, and, once it turned midnight, a couple of friends looked up at me and excitedly wished me a happy birthday.

Twenty-three. What a ride.

I started waking up with aches and sore joints, though. It seems as though there is an elderly woman with osteoporosis and severe rheumatoid arthritis encased somewhere in this body. I realized it had been over a month since my last visit to the gym. I was not taking the time to stretch anymore and my IT bands enjoyed reminding me of my negligence. As a result, I decided to invest in a foam roller, make use of the multiple gyms on campus, and consider training for a sprint triathlon. I have become much less cranky in the past couple of weeks.

On a side note, I have been working as a research assistant for a professor and filmmaker at Newhouse and she organizes the school's annual Human Rights Film Festival. Taking care of the archives and looking into the documentaries made me realize all of the issues there are out there. I have always been interested in human rights, but this exposure and the diplomacy program have really peaked my curiosity.

I am also currently reading Slow Food Nation by Carlo Petrini. He discusses why food should be clean, fair, and good, while providing valuable insight on the legitimacy of gastronomy and the necessity of sustainability. I LOVE IT. I found this quote in the midst of the second section:

“Gastronomy is a science that analyzes happiness. Through food, which is a universal and immediate language, a component of identity, and an object of exchange, it reveals itself as one of the most powerful forms of peace diplomacy.”

How true is that? I imagine that if everyone tried Persian food, which is my favorite, most people would actually give Iranians and our culture a chance. There are traditions behind the pots of rice, pistachios and dried cranberries mixed in, with just the right amount of saffron staining the long white grains, along with the perfect stew that took hours to prepare, and a plate full of fresh herbs to complement every bite. It took mankind eons to figure out what nutrition is, how to grow food, how to prepare it, etc.

My mom is from the Philippines and this is how she really connected with my father's side of the family. She learned the traditional dishes and their history. My parents have been married for 25ish years, and my mother and grandma still cannot communicate because of the language barrier, but once they are in the kitchen, where they are both comfortable and fluent in Persian recipes, words don't matter.

No region’s methods are identical to another. Food is more than a necessity. It is a way of life. It is a form of cultural exchange. It is the perfect tool for diplomacy.

Culture and calories… it doesn’t get much better than that.

Lights Will Guide You Home... And I Will Try To Fix You.

Typed on 11/3/11

I'm currently at Hancock Airport in Syracuse, waiting to board a plane to Cleveland so that I can connect to Houston, yet once again.

Usually, I'm really excited to go home. I get to spend time with my family and girlfriend for a couple of days. We have a small dinner at home with some laughs and share some stories. I tell them about school, the cold, and how I've managed to feed myself. I'm sure it's the same agenda for this weekend, but there's something out of the ordinary that I've been dreading.

I'm going with my mother to the hospital to say goodbye to a friend.

D's known me since I was a sonogram and she's my mom's dearest friend. I'm very fortunate to have all my grandparents, but it feels as though I'm losing one. I thought I had more time. Every time I saw her she was standing tall and sharing her wisdom. We went on lunch dates with mom every other month. I thought I had more time. I took what little time we had for granted. Now that I think about it, no matter how much more time we would've been given, it wouldn't have been enough. It would've never been enough.

She's been in a coma for a little over a week and a half, so I wonder if she'll be able to hear me when I thank her.

When I thank her for being a grandmother to my sister and me,

for always remembering to send a birthday card,

for never canceling a lunch date,

for always believing in me,

for being such a good friend to my mom,

for showing me what a strong and independent woman looks like...

...for everything.

11/5/11

I went to visit last night.

I told her everything and said goodbye.

I left with the heaviest heart, weighing me down and crushing everything inside.

We love you very much, Dottie. Safe travels back to Pennsylvania.

Don't Panic

I finished my first summer session with a bang. I made A's in both classes, met oodles of new people, found a natural aptitude in graphics design, and established a pretty decent balance between fun and work. On a side note, I have also managed not to starve to death or give myself food poisoning.

The people in my program are the best. Sixteen individuals out to change the world. The first day of class our professor told us that we were going to be more than classmates and friends. We are the cohort.

I lived in my apartment, alone, for the first month, since my roommates' programs did not start until August. Baba helped me move in, which eased the transition a bit. It was hard once he left. I still had two days until orientation, so it was nothing but me and my thoughts for those 48 hours. I wish he could have stayed longer. My mom and sister were not able to get on the flight with us, so it was a rushed good-bye at the terminal. I was okay until Momo started crying. It broke my heart. I was the protector for almost twenty years and was now moving across the country. I miss hearing her play the piano, Baba rushing to catch the bus to work, and smelling the coffee brewing in the morning (even though I would never touch the stuff). Every day, I find myself wishing I was sitting at the dining room table with them, putting up with Baba's corny jokes, eating a home-cooked meal, and having Mama yelling at Momo, Nestor, and me to take our paperwork off of the table.

I miss my kids from work. I never realized how much I looked forward to lessons at the end of the week. The toothless smiles, fist bumps, know-it-alls, every new record they set, everything... I had the greatest job as an undergraduate student. Two and a half years of watching kids believe in themselves and letting them do something extraordinary.

Orientation happened and school went into full throttle with no signs of slowing down. I thrive on the work. Deadlines, projects, papers, and the creativity that goes into everything... It keeps me sane and going. As much as I enjoyed my semester off, being back in school reminded me of how much I need to be challenged.

I missed the first week of the fall semester because of shenanigans with Hurricane Irene. All the passengers on the cancelled flights from the weekend rolled over to the flights throughout the week. I fly standby because of my parents flight benefits, so I take the leftover seats. There were no leftover seats until Thursday. In Syracuse now, though, so I am playing catch up.

I miss her. I don't know what she did, or how we came to this point. Butterflies still take over every time she walks into a room. She believes in me when I doubt my own abilities. I don't notice when she undercooks noodles or rice because I cannot focus on anything but her anyway. We don't need to talk constantly when we are together, silence is acceptable. Every detail is significant. She challenges me and inspires me to be better, not only for myself, but for her too. She is the wilderness of my intuition.

This is all so different, exciting, and petrifying. We rushed into whatever we are, completely blindsided, and we are still standing (with a new kitten). Sometimes you get lucky. A person stumbles into your life for whatever reason, turns your world upside down, and makes it all worthwhile.

"Oh, all that I know,

There's nothing here to run from,

And there, everybody here's got somebody to lean on." -Coldplay

Good Life

Just wanted a recap of my 2011 so far.

-Acceptance to all the graduate programs I applied to

-Commencement ceremonies (My cousin's and my own. Yay, Yasseen!)

-Went to Australia, climbed the Sydney Harbour Bridge, and fed a kangaroo and koala (not at the same time)

-Went to England and Amsterdam

-Realized how much I enjoy postcards

-Went to Syracuse and decided that is where I wanted to continue studying

-Showed two good friends a good time during their first trip to Vegas

-Experienced the Taste of Texas with my family

-My sister dyed her hair blue

-Realized how close I am to my family

-Helped my brother move into the house

-Skydiving for the first time

-Wakeboarding for the first time

-Learned how to shoot a gun

-Momo dyed her hair blue

-New road bike

-Editing all of Massi's freaking essays

-Discovered real pain via inflammed Iliotibial Bands.

-Learned how to correctly and most efficiently throw punches

-Long jumped almost 70 inches

-Worked hard for perfect abs

-Went to Free Press Summer Fest for the first time

-Learned how to make pancakes

-Won concert tickets over the radio for the first time

-Worked an art show

-Ran my first 5K ever in 34 minutes and 39 seconds

-Learned how to change the oil in my car

-Received the title to my car

-Took my brother to his first concert, Juanes!

-Signed my first lease

-Fermented juice at home

-Toured the Blue Bell Ice Creameries

-Discovered a true passion for intense Zumba workouts and plyometrics

-Felt heartbreak during the Superbowl

-Saw the Blue Man Group (Did I mention Momo dyed her hair blue?)

-Went to the Rodeo Cook Off for the first time

-Went to my first live cage fight and sat ringside

-Went blueberry picking

-My program at school upgraded me to an iPhone

-Made friends and more friends

-Found someone that treats me right

I still have half of a year left to squeeze what I can in. Won't you join me? Let's go!

"Now I, I go for mine, I got to shine

Now throw your hands up in the sky" -Kanye

Steady As She Goes

Sixteen-ish days left before the big move.

I finally found a place to stay. I have three roommates and my own room. It should be fun.

I also found someone that I really like. Of course, I am leaving. I don't think it would be fair for me to keep someone waiting for me, 1600 miles away. She says that maybe we should've met later, after our lives were all situated, but, as I always mention, I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason.

We don't have specific titles or rules. We take care of our own business and still find time for each other, whether it is talking about anything in bed or hitting up a music festival. It's nice. Someone that actually treats me right and is sure about their sexuality. This is a new one for me. We've agreed to just enjoy what we have going on now, but it's getting serious and we both know we are in trouble. Oi.

I started burying my head in the books, again, to keep me busy. Began to touch up on Mass Media and Visual Communication Theory, Marjane Satrapi for leisure, Deepak Chopra for enlightenment and life lessons, Made to Stick by Chip & Dan Heath.It's been good. Everyone should read a little more. I feel incredibly more intelligent looking when I carry around a book, whether that actually makes me more intelligent or not, eh... We will find out.

In addition to my noggin growing, so have the muscles. When I move, I lose my fancy pants gym membership to the fancy pants gym that I've been working at for the past two years. I refuse to become a polar bear when I move up north. Regardless, I tried boxing stuff for the first time yesterday at an exclusive work out that I was invited to. My shoulders and lats are incredibly sore, and my fingers are still shaking since I wasn't able to wrap my hands. My knuckles are bruised and my left wrist is slightly swollen. Regardless, I feel like a bad ass and I am at the top of my game.

A lot of people come up with some really lame excuses not to exercise or perform even the slightest bit of physical activity. Go for a freaking walk, run through a sprinkler system, play fetch with your dog... anything can easily be exercise!

It's for your own livelihood, so stop crying and start moving.