Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Wholeheartedly Sudaniya is a graduate!
Monday, October 26, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Monday, September 7, 2009
This is how I see it, Lubna is a journalist (so she is targeted by the government) and not only that, she writes a controversial column and being the brave woman she is, she is not afraid to write about anything an anyone. So the whole thing was probably targeted at her.
she was arrested with other women at a cafe in Khartoum for "indecent dress" (sounds vague?). This doesn't really happen in Sudan, you just don't get arrested for wearing pants!
A Sudanese official said she was actually arrested for smoking shisha. Again, you don't get arrested for smoking shisha.
So why was Lubna arrested?
Someone is not telling us the truth.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
The Insider is spreading the word and it seems to be true. His great uncle told him a family secret before his death, he is 1/6 Sudanese.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Amnesty International doesn't only expose atrocities worldwide, they also have a new unique interactive billboard. Looking at it, you see a happy couple, when you look away, the image changes to one of domestic violence.
This is what happens all over the world, domestic violence happens behind closed doors, we don't see it. so we don't always acknowledge it's existence.
Great job Amnesty International.
Monday, June 29, 2009
I have been gone for a long time. I can summarize my reasons in one word " senior year"! I was a senior and exactly 10 days ago, I received my undergraduate degree. I'm a graduate. I was busy with studies for a year. I've been horrible to this blog. I don't even think about that much anymore. I stopped bringing up my involvement in my blogosphere. Now, I want to come back and start blogging, wholeheartedly. I've grown a lot in the past year and I want to communicate that. This blog contributed to my personal growth. I've meet great people, read great posts and opened up to a whole new world.
Armed with my diploma , nothing can stop me;)
The first thing I want to do now is:- introduce myself. This blog was written by Kizzie. Kizzie was actually the name of the cat I wanted to get. I ended up not getting it, but I was attached to it, it was the first thing that came to mind when I wanted to start a blog. Kizzie became me and I became Kizzie. When I was an intern at a refugee council last January, I used to make phone calls to schedule appointments with guest-speakers for our weekly or bi-monthly events, I used to forget and say, hey I'm Kizzie.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Shobra is a neighborhood of faded glory. Stately building facades, covered by centuries of Sahara sands, cast shadows on the crowded working class streets below. This is the neighborhood of taxi drivers, policemen and waiters.
Al Ahram, Egypt’s leading newspaper, estimates that 50 percent of Egyptians live on $2 a day or less. So when I decided to investigate what living on $2 daily entailed, it made sense to head to Shobra, the “shaabi” heart of Cairo.
I took all the money out of my wallet, save for 11 Egyptian pounds, which is equivalent to $2. I wanted to see if I could get by for a day spending no more than your average Egyptian.
Leaving my apartment in the leafy upscale neighborhood of Zamalek, I waved off a handful of taxi drivers and headed to the metro. The walk was long and inconvenient but I couldn’t afford to take one form of public transportation to get to another.
I paid my 1 pound near Cairo’s impressive opera house and headed out on an overcrowded train, choked with the smell of sweat and cigarette smoke. I considered the Metro fee to be the cost of a commute to work.
I asked the man standing next to me at which stop I should get off. He raised his eyebrows in alarm.
“I haven’t heard of a foreigner going to Shobra before,” he said in Arabic.
At the man’s suggestion, I got off at Ramses Square on the outskirts of Shobra and began to wind my way through the packed streets.
My first order of business was to find lunch. I had skipped breakfast, worried I wouldn’t have enough cash to last me the day, so I looked for a corner sandwich shop — the kind that the working class frequents.
Before I could find one, I passed a Koshari stand. Koshari, a dish made up of macaroni, rice and lentils, is informally referred to as the national dish of Cairo. But at 2 pounds a dish, it was out of my reach.
A few doors down, I found what I was looking for and went in. The men behind the counter gave me the rundown of prices. Liver sandwiches, a local favorite, cost 2 pounds. Cheaper, at 75 piasters (100 piastres = 1 pound) were foul, falafel and French fry sandwiches.
I knew foul, a bean dish akin to refried beans, to be a working class favorite, so I chose it over the falafel balls crackling in a nearby pot of oil. The sandwich guy took a scoop of the foul, stuffed it in a pita, topped it off with a little bit of lettuce and tomato, and handed it to me.
As I walked down the street munching on my lunch, I figured I ought to top the meal off with a bit of fruit. A few blocks down, a man selling tangerines offered me one for 25 piastres. So I began digging through the crate looking for one that wasn’t too soft or full of holes. It wasn’t easy, but I found one that looked palatable enough.
From there I headed to a shisha cafe for a smoke. Shisha is a water pipe used for smoking tobacco, known commonly in the United States as a hookah. Here, shisha is less of a luxury than it is a social obligation. Men from the top to the bottom of the economic food chain gather in cafes daily to smoke and talk.
I found a small spot just off a main road. Some men sat on chairs outside, while others played backgammon inside. I sat down near the counter and ordered a tobacco flavored shisha (this, as opposed to the fruit-flavored tobacco preferred by most foreigners) and a tea.
“Do you want bongo with the shisha,” asked the waiter. Bongo is the popular term here for marijuana.
Never having been asked that before and not sure whether he was kidding, I waved him off with a laugh. But then I heard him engage in a fierce conversation with the other waiter. The only words I picked up were “bongo” and “foreigner.”
Alarmed, I repeated to him that I didn’t want marijuana, which is common among the working classes, and he assured me I’d only be smoking tobacco.
The men next to me were eating lunch, and they promptly asked me to join them. It is a cultural obligation here to offer food to others. In a taxi, the driver might offer his passenger the last bite of a sandwich. Anybody eating on the street will offer what they’re eating to just about anyone who passes by.
It’s courtesy, but it’s also the basis of a social safety net that insures everyone eats and survives despite low wages and high unemployment.
The men ate a salad with tomatoes, cucumbers and a cheese called Old Cheese, which looks (and smells) as the name implies. They had bread and green beans on the side.
Finishing up my smoke, I paid 2 pounds and headed off down the street until I ran into an older man who approached me speaking perfect English.
“Don’t go this way anymore,” he said. “The people here are all right. The ones past the tunnel that way are stupid.”
After thanking him profusely for his advice, I bee-lined in the direction he’d warned me against. After a few blocks, I found myself in a poorer section of Shobra. With the grand, if faded, architecture behind me, I saw only poor concrete structures. Donkey carts ruled there, and many of the smaller side streets were unpaved.
With 7 pounds in my pocket, and one of those dedicated to the return metro ride, I went to find dinner. Inspired by the men sitting next to me at the cafe, I stopped off at a produce market. Two tomatoes and two cucumbers cost me 2 pounds. I found an Old Cheese vendor a few blocks later and paid 2 pounds for half a kilo.
That would be good enough for an evening salad. I rode the metro home with 2 pounds to my name. I was discouraged that my 11 pounds was really only enough to buy the food and drink.
Yet many Egyptians support a family on the same amount
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
I left my phone next to my bag and left it there for 3 minutes to go to the loo. I came back and it wasn't there:(
I know I should've known better, I usually take my phone with me. I forgot to do that today:(
This is so frustrating because I've a lot of numbers and really nice messages and I feel so alienated and lost without it. I also hate wearing watches and now, I can't tell what time it is. I can't look at my phone during class to tell when this class is going to end (only some classes:)!!!)
Friday, March 20, 2009
The Pope is in "Africa" and he is making headlines. It's good that he is here given that at least 1/5th of Africans are Catholics, however, his opposition to condoms is completely unfounded.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
I really think that it's absurd to say that Bashir shouldn't be tried because other war criminals are not tried and accused of committing atrocities, it's only fair for Bashir to be tried along with other war criminals. The list is long...
Update:- I found an interesting article in the Economist about trying Bashir in Sudan.
"It is an intriguing proposal. The idea of mixing national and international procedure has been accepted in Sierra Leone and Cambodia. And Mr Mahdi has huge weight, as head of the Umma party, Sudan’s main opposition. He was the last prime minister to be democratically elected, back in 1986. He is also the spiritual leader of the powerful Ansar sect. Like many others, he says an ICC indictment of Mr Bashir would lead to “chaos” in Sudan; he hopes that his third way would “reconcile stability with accountability”."
As much as this idea seems noble. Sudan's judiciary is a total mess.
I know since we had to bribe someone to give us our own house back.
Sudanese law doesn't exactly include laws against war crimes or crimes against humanity, unless you want to try Gosh and Bashir for murder, it's difficult to try them in Sudan. Even if the trial was to take place in Sudan, we have to abide by international law. Let's not forget that trying a president is merely a "symbolic" act. Even if he went to prison or faced execution, Justice doesn't end there. Militias need to be tried. Torturers need to be charged. Embezzlers need to be located.
Note to the Save Darfur Coalition and George Clooney:- applaud your success for now given that you are not going to be in Sudan with us nursing a disintegrating country when "things fall apart" :)
An Example I thought of :-
I tried to think of something to describe the arrest warrant, this is what came to mind.
300,000 people died in 6 years of fighting in Darfur, we need to bring their killers to justice.
Imagine this for now, there is a house on fire. Some people are dead and some are stuck in a room and you have the means to save them. What do you do? Do you start collecting dead bodies for burial or do you save the individuals stuck in a room?
By choosing justice before peace, we are burying the dead bodies and not taking into consideration the millions of people we need and we could save.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Saturday, February 28, 2009
RIP Tayeb Salih. You wrote the best Arabic novel of the 20th century and one of the very first novels written in post-colonial Africa.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
We want to make future plans and we want to dream . We want to believe that our future is in our country. We want our dreams to become true even if a new government came to power.
We want to live in our country with dignity. We want to make the choice to leave it or not.
We don't want to be forced out of it. Noone wants to live in exile, noone wants to be a refugee. We think of Refugees as second-class citizens . The host countries are like airports. They wait there until they can go back to their homelands. They wait while we take our country for granted.
My parents used to take Sudan for granted. My dad was a doctor. We lived in a nice apartment in Khartoum. My mother loved her career and we even had a good old Eritrean nanny. Her name was Momena and we called her Nana.
Then the coup happened.
On the 30th of June 1989, the army was on the streets. It didn't take long until we heard the coup music on the radio. The familiar music they play everytime a coup happens.
We've had so many coups in Sudan. In some places,people vote to bring a new president to power, in other places, you just wake up one day only to find out you don't even know the name of the current president.
No one expected the government to last long, I mean who would have thought an Islamist government would find any support in Sudan?
20 years on, we were proven wrong. They did find a place in Sudan through terrorism.
My dad was told he is now a retired man. He was in his 30's at the time. Apparently, he was on the government's blacklist because he was in the opposition. All of a sudden, he found himself unemployed with the rest of his friends. They compromised the professional class in the Sudan. If you wanted a job, you had to be with them. You had to support the regime if you wanted food on the table.
He looked everywhere for any kind of job . Finally, he found a job. He became a truck driver.
To be Continued
Wednesday, January 14, 2009