*Fluid exam tomorrow *Scream*

So tomorrow I have the fluid mechanics midterm. That explains why I jumped into the car and went on an aimless drive around khalifa city, trying to relieve stress from thinking about shear stress and the strain tensor.
I am worried abt tomorrow’s midterm cz there’s no final and the rest of the grades will be distributed among assignments and project. Ilmohem im not panicking though cz ever since I was a kid my uneducated mom taught me the best recipe for preparing for an exam…on exam day, pray two extra rakaas before your exam and make duaa. Very simple. They don’t teach us that in school…
Besides if we really think about it, the exam paper is just a paper that we fill, hand in and when it comes back to us, it comes back COLORED….
If only things were that simple.
My mom didn’t get an education thanks to the Yemeni philosophy of not educating girls. I never understood that…maybe they think that educated become too independent and out-of-control…my dad thought differently though, and the result is me…but truth be told, my standards were set higher than my brothers…I had to do exceptionally well in school if I were to go to an expensive university like AUS…my brothers were going to be educated regardless because they were guys but the standards were different for me…
And when I was getting frustrated with my job and was telling my dad that I was going to quit and reapply back to grad school, he said,”now you know why Yemeni fathers don’t educate their girls.” He really wanted me to keep the job for financial reasons but it’s not like I’m starving in grad school…
Then the day he said, “It’s illogical for a person to leave a corporate job for a stipend…”
And of course i told him, “can u say that again because one day I’m going to quote you…”
A part of me wants to write a book on my dad titled, “Dreams from my father,” “Conversations We Never Had” or “The Trip Home…”
Cz I realize that every step in my life is taking me closer and closer home, but I don’t quite reach…it’s like an asymptote…from Sharjah to Dubai to samha to khalifa city…I’m getting closer…
So why “Conversations we never had.”?
Cz when I was a kid I never understood why our education was so important to my dad. My dad didnt know that i wasnt benefitting much from the school system because i studied on my own at home. The school system was there just for me to socialize and the exams
Of course… But actually sitting and paying attention to teachers was not always a priority…i used to be one of those students who bunked classes everytime i felt like it…and I only got away with it because I was above most school rules and regulations…I.e. Teachers knew to leave me alone and not bother me…
But then years later i got my lovely job and finally understood.
I felt history was
repeating itself in the sense that society didnt respect my father cz he didn’t have a degree and so he got stuck in his job for years and couldn’t become a manager because of that one piece of paper. The same way that my colleagues didn’t respect me because I was a female trainee…my dad’s office diary was empty because he didn’t have that many important meetings to attend to just like my office diary remained empty for the time I was in my job. And I felt what my dad felt, he felt that his job in the office was not important cz thats exactly what I was feeling…but his job was important to us, because he was my father. And I realized I could stay quiet and accept the stupidity at work or forget about the money and go back to school.
Just a few days back my dad actually came to me and honestly said, “I really respect your leaving your job for school.”
And I thought, finally, though he was the one who was against the move the most..
Once I frankly told him, “You know dad, coming to think about it, you’re the one who wanted to be a manager. This job is your dream. Not mine.”
I didn’t study to make money for anyone. I was in the game for the knowledge itself…
And that explains the “Dreams from my father” title..
I guess the time has come for me to formulate my own dreams…

That’s it for today…enough wasting time And back to fluid mechanics…

Picture of The Day

Brought to you by PhD comics

How true is this?


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Friendship Diamond

Based on a true story

Once upon a time we were close friends; we had so much in common in a world where we were both seen as strangers. I still remember the carefree days we spent together as children; trying to cheat at UNO only to lose, and picnicking at the family farm.

But then life got in the way.

I went my way, and she went hers. Sometimes we would meet; planets in orbit that would cross paths, and I would excitedly talk to her about my world, and give her anecdotes that would tickle her, because she enjoyed them at a time when the truck outside the windows gave her company. But when it was my turn to ask her about her world, the talk would dwindle. There wasn’t much to say.

And I read disturbing things in the silence. She might as well have spoken.

Then time trickled by, and this time we separated for a long time. During our time apart, I was always looking forward to meeting her again, because to me, she’s always been special. In my life, friends have come and gone, but this one…she was not the same. The facet of history made our friendship diamond special; if nothing else….

And then we met again after so long, and it suddenly hit me what time has done to us. We had less and less in common. Our worlds didn’t have much mutual ground anymore. And I stopped talking to her about my world. I was worried what it would do to her. I was worried if my world would make her regret…regret her choices…regret her decisions…regret her life.

And I was worried that listening to me would make her feel like she was missing out.

But the thing is, she wasn’t missing out. Because if she felt like she was missing out listening to me, then I would be missing out looking at her, but why do we keep on staring at what we don’t have, and work instead with what have?

Yet talking to her made me sad, because I did most of the talking. And so I finally decided to stay quiet and stay away. But then one day, I thought she deserved a proper farewell since I was travelling to another place, and so I tried one more time to meet up with her…but we couldn’t meet up.

And that was it.

Maybe our goodbye then was for the best, for our planets to continue orbitting in their separate paths, because the more we met, the more sorrow there was…

The more doubts, confusion and regret…

And I don’t remember if she told me to keep in touch or not, yet now I wonder, if she did, would I just have remained silent and would she have understood?

Because the facet of history made our friendship diamond special; if nothing else….

Courtesy of Shutterstock.com

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The Sinking Rock

When you throw a rock into the ocean, you hear a splash and then you don’t see it again. It sinks to the bottom, and you think it’s gone for good. On the surface, everything seems the same, but according to the laws of physics, displacement of water had occurred, and the ocean isn’t the same.

Same thing happens when others pass by our lives. Maybe they touch a heart, cause a smile and then leave. They think that they’re gone forever, but deep down inside their memories burn so deeply, that the ocean of our being isn’t the same again.

Think of the last time someone cast a rock into your ocean, and then call them to tell them thank you. For they might not have realized how much they’ve changed your life, because on the surface, everything seemed the same, but deep down inside, the ocean was not the same.

Quote of The Day,

“Did you ever look at a picture of yourself and see a stranger in the background? It makes you wonder how many people have pictures of you, how many moments of other people’s lives we’ve been in. Were we part of someone’s life when their dream came true, or were we there when their dreams died? Did we keep trying to get in, as if we were somehow destined to be there? Or did the shot take us by surprise? Just think, you could be a big part of someone else’s life, and not even know it.”

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Image from http://www.freeimages.co.uk/

Mombasa’s Wall Around Aga Khan Academy

School papers strewn over the football ground
Devoid of a football and all kinds of ball
Horizontally gifted children line the benches

School papers wrap a loaf of bread
White palms upturned receive one coin
With moistened eyes above a wan smile

Noses upturned, foreign accents
Never Swahili, but English, Italian or French
A wide parking lot carries their sports cars,
Illegal drivers handcuffed the law’s arms

With daybreak, street vendors shout
Stolen watches for sale, belts and shirts
With sunset, beggars plague the wide green land
Plastic bags, their shield against the rain

A jasmine tree crosses the wall
Its white petals plucked by all

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The Morning Scene

There are times when we find ourselves trapped
In a world we barely understand
Waking up with our energies sapped
To the mist covering the whole land
Sunshine dissipating it
But dissipating not the pain inside

Words, too many words, left unspoken
Where do we begin
Or with the end should we start?
One look, one gesture,
Maybe you understand,
You turn your back and walk away,
Maybe I’ll never understand

A torrent of words, all left unspoken,
In the remains of blown off candles,
The chocolate box left unopened
The wilting flowers in the trash can,
We wish the final act was different
There are many words left unspoken
But silence roars louder than words

P.S. Inspired in Sustainable Energy class.

retrieved from the internet

Inspired By The Navier-Stokes Equation

Today we derived the Navier-Stokes equation…again. Quite fascinating stuff to tell you the truth. Letters, indices and signs flying all over the board. And to think that once upon a time I was filing paper in the office. I think my dad’s gotten over the shock that his chiriku of a daughter left this fat-easy-coming paycheck to go back to class and have a new experience. But when someone gives you so much money, they are taking three main things from you; time, mental capacity and peace of mind.

So the Navier-Stokes equation made me think; if only life could be described by a set of well-defined mathematical equations. There’s so much order in equations. And solutions can be determined -if not always- but most of the time, using numerical and analytical methods. But if we were to build similar equations of life, what factors would come into play; the past and the present, the people and the lifestyle, thinking processes and emotional processes, laughter, tears, hatred and love.

Talking about love, do you believe in love? Most people who know me know that I’m a cynic when it comes to matter of the heart. People exaggerate it in movies -and in real life. And a lot f “love” stories that I’ve heard when I was in school have turned into ashes.now the people involved are happily married to other people…and there’s Facebook to prove all that.

But sometimes I feel I’m a cynic cz I grew up among guys. In other words I grew up playing wrestling with my brothers instead of barbie dolls…and more than once I’ve had them eat my share of food.Consequently, members of the male species don’t fascinate me too much. Sometimes I can look at my brother and know exactly what he’s thinking. A similar thing happens to a friend of mine who also grew up among brothers, and we think it’s pretty cool that we got some insights into the male psyche. It makes me think of “think like a man, act like a woman”.

And all those thoughts began with Navier Stokes equation. What do u think? Wanna try to write mathematical equations for life?

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What Story Will You Tell Your Children?

Note: The first two parts (in Italics) are fictitious and are a figment of the writer’s imagination

The children sqealed with excitement when they reached the airport. As they looked at the humongous bodies of metal take flight, they raised their hands and bid farewell to the strangers in the airplane, wondering where they’ll be going.

“These planes go to the sky, above the clouds over there,” the teacher supervising the school trip told the 20 KG 2 children.

“Do they have houses above the clouds?” One child asked curiously.

“Do they have cows?” Another asked.

“Do they have television?”

“The plane is not going to stay on the clouds…” the teacher went on to explain how a plane transports people from one land to another. “So when they reach to Nairobi, they’ll have houses, cows and TV like the ones you have here.”

“One day I’m going to ride on that plane,” a child said.

“One day I’m going to fly that plane,” another child said. This comment made his classmates snigger. “Kwenda!!” (Go away-meaning “you can’t be serious”)

“One day I’m going to own 20 of those planes.”

This caused the whole group to rapture in laughter because the child who said it was the poorest of the lot. On his first day of school, he couldn’t afford the school uniform so he came wearing his home clothes and no shoes. Students saw him as the first to drop out of school and work on the tea farms.

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When the plane touched down in Moi International Airport, a robotic cry went off. When the seat belt signs went off, a man jumped to his feet, opened the overhead cabinet and retrieved a huge doll. It stopped crying. Children behind him started sniggering at the funny sight of the large black guy carrying a doll. “Mtu mkubwa, abeba dolli kama mtoto mdogo,” they made fun. (Look at that man carrying a doll like a child)

The man ignored them and stared straight ahead, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of his wife and daughter for whom he got the life-sized doll. After two years of working on his feet as a security guard in one of the Dubai malls, he was finally going home for his annual leave. He left Kenya in search for greener pastures but was met with endless miles of sand, and humidity that clung onto him in a choking grip. When he stepped out of the airplane and embraced the cold breeze, he realized he didn’t miss the heat and humidity of Dubai. He picked up his phone and hurried to dial his wife’s number. “I’m HOME!”

And to think that one day he used to dream about owning 20 planes.

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When we are children, we are filled with rosy dreams. Our imagination has no constraints about what could be done and what could not be done. Watch children trying to jump off the couch pretending they are superheroes. In our minds, everything used to be possible. Impossible was an alien word. A word that’s used by adults.

But then what happens? Life happens.

We grow up and the society around us draws constrains on our imagination. Suddenly, ”impossible” becomes part of our daily lives. Ideas are deemed crazy and infeasible from the beginning of their lives. We don’t want to sound strange. We don’t want to be criticized so we go with the norm. We dare not leave our comfort zone so that we can belong.

But what if we go back to being kids in believing that the impossible can come true, if we put in enough effort?

There’s a quote by Robert Heinlein that says, “Always listen to experts. They’ll tell you what can’t be done, and why. Then do it.”

So what story will you tell your children? What legacy will you leave behind?

That’s my piece of mind today.

Adios

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دفاعاً عن أم المؤمنين عائشة رضي الله عنها

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