Sweet Bendu

Bendu with her daughter, Mercy, and son, Lamin.

As I was skipping and hopping back home after my morning work out this week, I passed by Bendu on Randall Street as usual and, ordered some fresh cakes for my office staff. She told me it was her birthday and, I hugged her in happiness.

Bendu has been my friend for years: her little tea shop is situated right below Wesley's former office. I used to merely pass by her and utter a cursory "hello." After Wesley's death, I really got to know her. When I had just returned to Monrovia after news of his murder, I was up there in Wesley's office, trying to organise his funeral and, had already half decided to try my hand at running an IT company. She used to send me tea and coke. 

Our friendship deepened over time and, I used to escape to her shop for a coke and a chat. She would refuse to take money for anything! I would sit with her, sip coke, and ask her "How's business?" And she would ask me the same. 

I do not do it as much as before but it was fun to watch Randall Street go by. It gave me a teeny tiny peek into life in Monrovia. There is a law firm right next to her building and, it was interesting to see a lawyer come by her place, buy a $ 25 LD soft drink and a $ 10 LD sweet bread. And, that was lunch! There were the cigarette smokers who would buy singles for $ 10 LD.  

I would also observe the various traders selling all kinds of goods from baskets balanced on their heads or on their arms: perfumes, rat poison, medicines, toiletries, shoes, or hand towels. Then there are the fellows who go around painting toe and finger nails! 

As Bendu and many other small businesses will explain to you, business slows down in the rainy season quite a bit. So, while I enjoy the much cooler temperatures, every day life is more of a struggle for ordinary Liberians. Cold water and soft drinks do not sell so much. With the kind of torrential rain we get here in Liberia combined with a lack of public transportation and congested roads, going to and fro is even more of a nightmare. Structures in poorer communities often get washed away. 

She's unconditionally supported me during my business stresses, including when 4 staff committed mutiny and tried to take me to the Ministry of Labour. In fact, a much older friend of mine, took my staff's side and, tried to accommodate their nonsensical behaviour. It is nice to  have a friend who supports you. 

Another thing I really love about our relationship is how if I am ever going out of country, Bendu sends me a bucket of sweets to take as gifts for family and friends. She makes this tasty peanut brittle and sesame seed brittle which make for delicious tea time snacks. 

Right now Bendu's tea shop is wedged in an alley between two buildings. The shop is pretty much exposed to the elements, especially in the rainy season. I have offered her to help her with rent if she finds a suitable shop. Until then, I'm hoping to help her spruce up this space itself. So, watch this space until then. 

Morning Exercise

Three wrinkly old men overtook me this morning, two of them joggers and one a brisk walker like me.

"Don't be disheartened," I said to myself. "You're still recovering from surgery."

Went on to have a great work out this morning and, mingled with the morning exercise crowd.

This one fellow was whizzing up and down the hill and, would break it to do furious one-arm push ups. When I asked him whether he was training for the marathon, he said, "Nah, I participated last year but this year, I ain't feeling so well." My head reeled from his casual remark.

I also saw another serious guy, buff as hell, and doing yoga-like stretches with a serene look on his face. Yes, I was oogling him!

Generations

Ami posted this picture on Facebook:

She has put the pictures of her mother, herself, little Komal Kavita and myself together. It shows the four generations together. 

Look forward to visiting Islamabad soon so Ami can finally see Komal Kavita. 

The suffragettes

I recently read an article on The Guardian on the inspiring suffragettes: "Nine Inspiring Lessons the Suffragettes Can Teach Feminists Today."

I read the article with enthusiasm, amazement and utter awe. I don't even remember reading about the suffragettes since school. We only make passing reference to the heroic efforts of women in the Western world who fought for equal rights these days. We responded in shock to the rather Taliban-like views spewed by the Republicans during these recent US elections, especially regarding rape and abortion. We went around saying, "But look at what was achieved by the suffragettes in the US and Europe and, look how far back society has gone back. 

It good and rather necessary to read in detail about the utter bravery of these women. 

I look forward to teaching my daughter about these heroines as she grows up. 

These are my favourite bits:

"There's often tension today between those who deliver feminism with humour and those who prefer unfiltered anger – the suffragettes showed that both are necessary." 

"In a male-dominated society, women are often brought up to identify with men, to see men's views and rights as paramount, and so it's not surprising that many women oppose their own liberation. In the suffrage era the most prominent was Queen Victoria, who once wrote a letter stating she was "anxious to enlist everyone who can speak or write to join in checking this mad wicked folly of 'Woman's Rights', with all its attendant horrors, on which [my] poor sex is bent". 

"Their detractors were often very powerful. Winston Churchill described the militant movement as a "copious fountain of mendacity", while Arthur Conan Doyle opted for "female hooligans". The only useful response was to take strength from the insults. The current deputy editor of the New Statesman, Helen Lewis, has written that today "the comments on any article about feminism justify feminism", which mirrors Rebecca West's reflections on events of a century ago. "The real force that made the suffrage movement was the quality of the opposition," wrote West. "Women, listening to anti-suffrage speeches, for the first time knew what many men really thought of them."

 "Nothing has done more to retard the progress of the human race than the exaltation of submission into a high and noble virtue," he wrote. "It may often be expedient to submit; it may even sometimes be morally right to do so in order to avoid a greater evil; but submission is not inherently beautiful – it is generally cowardly and frequently morally wrong."

Early Morning Exercise

I decided to try the morning exercise instead of evening sessions and, I must say I am happier for it. I would always find an excuse to cancel the evening session or would be too tired. Now, there is no excuse to avoid it.

It is a great way to start the day, to feel pumped, and while on the way back to the house, watch the city wake up. I can see the women set up their fruit and vegetables. I see the sellers of various items arrange their baskets so they can start walking around. I see the steps of the mosque being cleaned. I even see the beggars getting ready for the day! 

I loved being part of the early morning group on Benson Hill, working out. I've overheard three men bemoaning their women while they were doing push ups. I've excitedly watch youngsters training part of a group. I also admired an old man walking much faster then me and, doing three rounds up and down the hill for my one measly one! 

You get an earlier start to the day and, can try to accomplish so much more. 

But, how is my body reacting to it? I actually feel like vomitting. After a lifetime of being a night owl, forcing my body to wake up at the unholy time of 6 AM is torture. A touch-your toes- stretch makes me dizzy. The second round up and down the hill literally made me want to throw up. 

I am quite sore, too, since I am letting the trainer actually make me do a proper work out now.   Every time, we are pushing the limits and, my body is quite sore. But it is a delicious sore, if you know what I mean. 

The first time, I was quite beat and decided to nap right there in the office with Kavita on my lap. Unfortunately, Haresh took my picture and posted it on Facebook. And what an unflattering, picture, too:

I painstakingly make sure, my pictures online show my best angles but this one shows all of my 5 chins!

Today I was so tired after my morning exercise that I went home at 4 PM instead of the usual late evening exits from the office. 

After making fun of Haresh for getting up so early to work out and, then nodding off at 8 PM in the evenings...After making fun of morning people in general for being so freaking cheerful and energetic, I find myself feeling so good and proud for waking up early and gone for the subha ki seher which which my father was always going on and on about.

My new contact lens case

I got a cool new contact lens case: 

And, it got me thinking about my eye sight and when I first got my pair of glasses. 

So, I've been myopic since I was about 10 years old. When I learned that I would have to wear glasses, I burst into tears and, my father (Aboo) had to comfort me and tell me I wouldn't look so bad and that smart kids wore glasses.  I can clearly remember the moment, it was in the foyer of our mansion-type residence in Bucharest. 

I also remember that my parents blamed the whole fiasco on watching too much TV. 

Well, I don't know how smart I have proved to be in my academic career, but I sure looked like a dork up until I was in my early 20s. 

I mean, look at this:

Bucharest, Romania, 1990s

My parents had no qualms in me wearing glasses that were clearly too big for my face. 

Oh well, Aboo's trademark were always his glasses and, there's several photographs of us together, be-speckacled father and daughter:

Dashing Aboo, a photograph from his bachelor days

Aboo and Farzana, Bucharest, Romania, 1990s

Aboo and Farzana, Islamabad, Summer of 2010

Now a days, I wear contact lenses and it is nice not have glasses on your face but once in a while, when I have finished my supply of contacts, I go back to wearing glasses full time.

They do make you look smart, come to think of it. 

I wonder what is in my tiffin today?

I have given up cooking ever since I got back from Chicago. There is just no way I will be able to cook, manage the business and look after a baby. Not unless I was going to exhaust myself.  So, I gave up cooking of the three. 

Before we got the tiffin, we briefly hired a cook who was an expert when it came to desi food. She was in fact trained by Haresh's first cousin's wife. She knew everything from pani puri to biryani to malai koftas to aloo parathas to daal. Unfortunately, she stopped coming to work for about a month or so. We went back to eating take out and, running over our monthly food budget. 

We found out about this tiffin company through an ironic coincidence. We were looking for accommodation for our expatriate Pakistani staff in our next door building. There was a free room available in an apartment but we were told they would not be able to house a Pakistani! So, we did not get the room but an excellent recommendation where to get food. 

The tiffin company was apparently started by a fellow by the name of Owen who used to work with T. Choitrams for years and, was trained to cook desi food, especially some Sindhi specialities. Owen branched off and started his own tiffin business. 

You know how people go around saying that Liberians really aren't cut out to be entrepreneurs? Well, Owen is an exception and proves that theory wrong! Not only is the food good delicious fare to fill you up and, keep you going for the day, but it arrives on time. We get three meals a day delivered at our door step, seven days a week. And on Saturdays, we even get an extra snack on the side like piping hot samosas.  Our breakkie and lunch are delivered at the office and, dinner at our house. 

Bloody organised, I would say. 

The most fun part is guessing, "What is in my tiffin today?"

Evening Promenade

Since the baby arrived, Haresh and I are no longer able to enjoy our rigorous evening walks together. We have our separate exercise hours now. 

Haresh is obsessed with fulfilling his dream of making his six-pack abs. He has hired a personal trainer and, is mercilessly subjecting his body to all kinds of torture. He gets up at the crack of dawn 4 times a week. Sometimes he's up on our rooftop terrace and, I actually hear him screaming! When I asked why he was screaming in pain, he said, it was a manly grunt! Then, he's apparently doing 200 crunches, running up and down Benson Hill, and doing splits on the beach. And almost every day, he's got a skin rash to which he applies some ointments which burn so every time he's in the loo he is screaming yet again. 

As for myself, I have set a goal of reducing the baby fat in a year (or two). Slow and steady wins the race. 

The same trainer accompanies me on a brisk walk up to Benson Hill. He makes me go up and down the hill several times and, then makes me do some stretches which remind me of the changes my body has gone through. I tried to tell him several times that since I had surgery (c-section), there are some stretches and jumps that I simply cannot and will not do. But he keeps telling me to do something and, I frustratingly snap at him: "I had surgery!" 

I do boss him around a lot: 

"Don't even think about telling me to do crunches." 

"Jogging? I hate jogging. Brisk walking can do the same job."

"No, I don't want to go up the hill. Let's do some stretches." 

"I'm tired of these 'physicals.' Let's just walk today."

With the way my body still feels sore, I have set myself the simple target of just doing a walk and some stretches three times a week. If I can do, I'll feel good since I'll be getting some exercise and fresh air. Once, I feel up to it, I'll start to push myself harder. 

I usually go for my evening walk from the office and, one of our staff members kindly minds the baby.  

I love my evening walks around Mamba Point. It is easily my favourite bit of Monrovia. Here are some photos:

New building coming up

Another almost-completed construction

Ashland (his first name is Henchman) is a very sweet, quiet guy and, it's a great motivation to have a trainer pushing you to try to do more or, to even get out and go for an evening promenade. 

IQ84

Murakmi is one of my favourite authors, introduced to me by my brother, Tariq, back in 2007. He gave me Kafka on the Shore as a present and ever since then, I have been completely mesmerised by the worlds and characters that Mukrami creates. Kafka on the Shore is actually one of my all-time favourite books. 

I started reading his latest novel IQ84 quite a while ago and it is still on my bedside table.

It has been all the way to Chicago and back and, I still haven't finished reading it! In my defense, it is an epic novel and I had a baby. 

Some of my favourite passages are: 

"But actually time isn't a straight line. It doesn't have a shape. In all senses of the term, it doesn't have any form. But since we can't picture something without form in our minds, for the sake of convenience we understand it as a straight line. At this point, humans are the only ones who can make that sort of conceptual substitution." p.625-626 

"The man's gray suit had countless tiny wrinkles, which made it look like an expanse of earth that had been ground down by a glacier. One flap of his white dress shirt's collar was sticking out, and the knot of his tie was contorted, as if it had twisted itself from the sheer discomfort of having to exist in that place. The suit, the shirt, and the tie were all slightly wrong in size. The pattern on his tie might have been an inept art student's impressionistic rendering of a bowl of tangled, soggy noodles. Each piece of clothing looked like something he had bought at a discount store to fill an immediate need. But the longer Tengo studied them, the sorrier he felt for the clothes themselves, for having to be worn by this man. Tengo paid little attention to his own clothing, but he was strangely concerned about the clothing worn by others. If he had to compile a list of the worst dressers he had met in the past ten years, this man would be somewhere near the top. It was not just that he had terrible style: he also gave the impression that he was deliberately desecrating the very idea of wearing clothes." p. 331 

"In fact, this is a town of cats. When the sun starts to go down, many cats come trooping across the bridge—cats of all different kinds and colors. They are much larger than ordinary cats, but they are still cats. The young man is shocked by this sight. He rushes into the bell tower in the center of town and climbs to the top to hide. The cats go about their business, raising the shop shutters or seating themselves at their desks to start their day’s work. Soon, more cats come, crossing the bridge into town like the others. They enter the shops to buy things or go to the town hall to handle administrative matters or eat a meal at the hotel restaurant or drink beer at the tavern and sing lively cat songs. Because cats can see in the dark, they need almost no lights, but that particular night the glow of the full moon floods the town, enabling the young man to see every detail from his perch in the bell tower. When dawn approaches, the cats finish their work, close up the shops, and swarm back across the bridge. "p.304 

"The breeze swept across the meadows of Bohemia." p.30

I am still enjoying reading it page by page these days. So, here's to more happy moments when I am nodding off to sleep and reading just a few pages before I nod off to la la land. 

Entrance needs a make over

Our entrance needs a drastic make over.

All beaches should be on a wedding

The official photographer's pictures have come and here's a sneak peak:

By the way, I think this is going to be my favourite picture!

Moomin

I love drinking tea and I love my new Moomin coasters.

My friend from SOAS Helka was in town recently and she got me these.

She also got a Moomin character doll for little Kavita. 

You are totally invited