Category Writing

Ramadan Day Seven

We are almost a week into Ramadan and I feel pretty good about things. I’ve not had an iftar alone since it started and this week I don’t think there’s a day I’m free so we have another week full of food and socializing and hugs. I think about home a lot during Ramadan and specifically my sisters in law, my nieces and nephews and my baby cousins. I called

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Ramadan 2019: Day Two

Every year I’ve been in a Children’s House classroom I’ve taught my kids about Ramadan. I’ve had at least one kid from a Muslim family in the class each year, but I think even if we didn’t I would explain to my kids what it’s about. We do so many other celebrations in class from Chanukah to Chinese New Year, so I don’t see why talking about Ramadan can’t be

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Ramadan 2019: Day One

When I was little I would do half fasts. I would wake up for sahur with my dad and my two older brothers and my mum would make us all fried eggs and paratha. I would also get a cup of super milky tea. It was this exciting thing to eat when it was still super dark outside like we were breaking the rules a little having our breakfast so

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A Few Thoughts On Making Friends

There’s nothing quite like moving to a whole new country. It’s definitely a privilege to be able to do so, and one I don’t take lightly in this day and age. Immigration is so demonised and for some places, especially America, a move like that requires money, connections and a lot of paperwork. I’m lucky, everyone I know who has had this opportunity to move to a new country is

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Thoughts of Solo Travelling, Healing and Whale Sharks.

I went to Macomb this weekend, which prompted the question of “Why?!” when I told people. I have family in Macomb, family who I enjoy the company of but have never really hung out with due to growing up on the other side of the Atlantic, and I guess because of age. I’m younger and that makes our paths cross less. I have hardly any experience of small town America.

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Is It Too Late Now To Say Sorry? Or Not.

Today in Montessori class we were doing a floor activity and I was rolling out the floor rug. I was doing it totally in the Montessori style and the teacher (who I love) called me a ‘Type A Child’. I thought this meant I had done something wrong and immediately apologised to which she replied “There’s no need to say sorry right now, in this class there’s no need to

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Three Years.

There are figs roasting in my oven. They are covered in honey and they were purchased at this fantastic grocery store called Fresh Farms yesterday morning on a not so exciting adventure I took in my car to Niles. I love grocery stores and a good one contains people from all walks of life. A good one does not contain an ethnic or international aisle because everything in it is

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Yogurt or is it Yo-gurt?

My goal for Ramadan was to cook new things. This week I started out by making my own yogurt. My mother is a little bit of a health freak, as in she honestly thinks your diet can fix pretty much anything that is wrong with you physically and mentally. We don’t always agree on things when it comes to her health advice, for example, I was the only child in

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Punk O Ramadan: Version 2.0

Last year I fasted during Ramadan for the first time in over 10 years. I don’t know why I decided to do it. There was this whole mix of factors, one was that my colleagues at my old job were fasting and had all given me food to have for Iftar all month, frozen samosa, dates, spring rolls, and I was really touched by their generosity. Also, I guess something

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Yo, I’ll Take Extra Rice and Naan Please.

On Saturday I went to Devon to buy some fancy desi clothes for a work party we’re having. I hate going to buy any sort of Indian or Pakistani outfit because, as a woman who has boobs, I always have trouble fitting anything over my chest. You would think the makers of these clothes were unaware that a) we have boobs or b) that they aren’t all below a c-cup.

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