Journeys of A Wandering Mind

I opened my PC at the office today to find out that Saddam had been hanged some hours ago.  Well, I know that he’s going to hang, but somehow I just put in into the back of my mind.  Until a fellow blogger posted a video of the dictator’s last moments in his latest posts…

There he was, in a black coat, looking grim (well, you can’t look chirpin’ happy when you’re gonna hang, right?)  with some masked guards.  The rope they used was really thick.  The video ended just in time for a guard to have the noose put around Saddam.  Somehow I pitied him for a fleeting moment.  But he really deserved his fate in the wake of so many people who suffered because of his.  His death somehow was the only acceptable retribution for them.

What a way to end 2006!

          When I chatted with an online friend about my mixed ancestry, she said "Wow, you really are that?"  I’m sure she said it in sheer admiration.  Having a Muslim father and a formerly Catholic mother is one thing.  Seeking acceptance in society is another kettle of fish.

          So I am what the people around me call a "half".  They can automatically notice it in my looks ("Hey, you don’t look like you’re from here!"), they can guess it from the way I speak the local dialect ("Ah so you didn’t grow up here! You don’t sound like it."), and of course they can notice it in my ideas ("That’s not the way they do it here, dear.").  The list can go ad infinitum.   Ok so I can’t hide, but I see no reason to do it. 

           With my Christian cousins they accept me as I am.  In fact I believe I am closer to them than with my father side cousins.  Check my phonebook and you’ll see.  But let’s face it.  I haven’t seen them in 8 years or more.  I frankly would like to spend vacations with them someday.  I am more easily accepted in mainstream Christian society because of the fact that I don’t fit in their stereotype of a typical Muslim in the country. 

         Now for the harder part.  In the society I now find myself in, I and others in the same boat are subjected to many direct and subtle instances of discrimination.  A lot of "half" boys couldn’t get married to "pure blooded" girls because of the fact that their mother is a Christian or just a Muslim revert.  Most people here particularly the traditionalist ones don’t take kindly to mixed marriages and "half" kids.  I remember a sister of mine having a SMS friend (textmate if you like) who suddenly stopped texting her when she said yes to his question, "Are you a ‘half’?"  What’s wrong with us, huh?

        However there are a few things that can be gained by just being a "half".  For one thing, we’re not that timid.  We are a bit more brave because everything (well almost) is against us and that we have to fight (well, a little) for what we want.  We aren’t ignorant of  things around us because we get to live in two worlds. We know the worth of equality because we know how to be discriminated against in a narrow-minded society.  Pehaps best of all we can fight better against traditional customs that aren’t even Islamic because we’re not wholly part of the tribe and do not practice them much of the time.

        So much for that.  I’m half, and I’m glad to be one. 

      When I was scrolling my friends list here, I decided to make a testimonial for one that I haven’t seen in years.  I usually maske testimonials in a jiffy, but when I clicked this person’s name I went suddenly numb.  Why I am doing this?  What for?  What’s the use?

       A colleague at my office once said that I was rather hard to strike up a friendship with.  Why?  Well, my habits are strange for one (I sometimes go to work with no make-up on, and I often go to work outrageously early).  I don’t do "girl-talk" usually.  I like to read, and I sometimes can’t understand why girls fall for a guy on a poster whose qualifications for such adoration are a set of six-pack abs, arm muscles, clear skin, etc.,etc.,etc.  I don’t like to be around lots of people too.  And I heard from my sister that someone told her that I was a sort of "Ice Queen"—someone who is cold and aloof.

       My "Ice Queen" image oftentimes filters down to my relationships with my family and relatives.  I don’t usually attend gatherings, and when I do I don’t talk much at all.  I am the quintessential cold turkey when something bad happens.  I remember when an aunt died.  I was her favorite niece, and I haven’t seen her in 8 years! Yet when I heard about her death, I hardly shed a tear.

         I don’t know.  I sometimes don’t know why I am like this, a being insensitive to things around her.  A person who had been devoted to building walls around her, and now is trying to break them down with difficulty since the walls are much too thick.  I’m sorry if I had been so cold when I even know that I shouldn’t.  I’m sorry that I run away whenever you all try to reach out to me.  I’m sorry……T-T

       I have been so insensitive.  I am ashamed.  I bow my head down to all of you here.  I am humbled by the fact that a lot of you still want to reach out to me after all that’s been said and done.  I will be better, you’ll see.  I thought that I was destined to be invisible all my life, and I recently got the shock of my life when I found that someone out there loves me, in spite of myself.  I cried like I never did for a very long time.

       I hate myself.