The Family Tree Project

Last weekend I began a project I've been meaning to do for quite some time. I finally got down to starting the family tree.
I always knew the project would present it's own unique challenges, since some of the elders in my family took the 'Smarties' approach to monogamy. Basically, the more you have in the bag, the more colorful it makes your candy collection.
At one point in my research on a particular great great grand uncle, I had to stop and ask my Gran "Was he the only guy in town, or did he have chocolate flavoured earlobes?"
Three and four wives seems to have been pretty common back then.
Hugh Hefner has nothing on my ancestors. Clearly.

Having said that, it's been one of the most exciting and interesting projects I have ever undertaken.
I decided to spend my Saturday with my Gran (my mom's mom) to help me further in my quest for The Holy Grail. I'm still not sure what my Holy Grail is, but I imagine it would be finding out that somewhere along the lineage I am actually related to Kahlil Gibran or Ceasar. Either of those would thrill me to no end.

What I did find out was that my great great grandfather was Scottish, and that his daughter (my Grans mom) was named Annie Hogarth. Now there's something I never knew, and undoubtably would never have known had I not started this project. I would have spent my entire life never having known that I have Scottish blood running through these veins, and quite frankly this makes my random stumbling over pieces of furniture a lot easier to understand.

Next week I intend spending with my Grandfather to get some more details on his lineage. I've already been warned to take along more than one pen and at least 2 notebooks, as it could get very complicated.
This is my Grandfather who has four wives at the last count.

If there's one thing I have learned from the compilation of this family tree, it's that the world is a lot smaller than we would like to think. We really are all one big happy family, for the most part.

Now if only someone could get this message across to all those politicians & presidents so bent on war.

Of Demons & Dragons

I can sit through almost any kind of movie, no matter how boring or bad. I could sit through a Nicholas Cage movie, even a silent movie. I could sit through a movie starring Celine Dion & Gary Busey. I'm one of those people who can't watch a movie and stop halfway just because it's bad. I get a sense of not having accomplished. But there's one kind of movie that I can't watch, the only kind that makes me break out in a rash, with violent spasms and random singing of Justin Bieber songs. I'm talking about the demons and dragons genre. Harry Potter, The Sorcerers Apprentice, Lionheart. Doesn't do it for me.

So tonight was movie night. Well the Indian version of movie night anyways.
See in the non-Indian version, you meet up with friends, go for supper, go to a movie, then coffee afterward, and finally you pat each other on the back and say "We gotta do this again. It was amazing!"
In the Indian version of movie night, you go to your sisters house, she cooks a meal, then you sit on her new sofa and watch a pirate DVD movie not yet released in the cinema which her husband brought home from his Pakistani friend in Fordsburg, followed by Woolies malva pudding warmed in the microwave, and finally you hug each other and say "Next week at my house ok. I'm making Biryani and we getting this new movie which is 80% good copy."

See, when you tell an Indian about Piracy, he's picturing Somalians on a boat with machine-guns, not Pakistani's with a gym bag on a street corner.

Being Easter weekend, we tossed around the idea of going to the Rand Easter Show on Sunday. Is it still called the Rand Easter Show? I'm not sure.
I remember going there almost 10 years ago to check out the latest electronics and gadgets. Honestly though, today if I want to do that I just go to one of the bazillion Chinese malls within throwing distance of anywhere. I think that's possibly the one reason why the numbers at The Rand Easter Show are steadily dropping. Also, parking and entrance at the Chinese mall is free, unlike the Rand Easter Show, and the queue for the loo doesn't go around the block into the neighboring suburb.

Did I mention that when it rains, you don't have to claw through tsunami-grade mud or die a slow miserable death from the stench of pooping cows? Maybe this is just my recollection of the Rand Easter Show. Maybe thing's have changed since then and it's become really super-awesome. Maybe it's our version of Disneyworld. I don't know. But I bet you anything the pickpockets are still doing brisk trade, and the toilets still stink.

Ok I'm done ranting now.
PS: Did you notice I started not one but two sentences with 'but' ? My English teacher would be so proud of me :)

10 Things You Didn't Know About Me

#1 : I hate Parmesan cheese. I don't mean dislike or detest, I mean hate! I can't have it placed on the table while I'm having my meal, or within a 3 meter radius. It smells like old-man fart, and my food is allowed to smell like old-man fart 2 days after I've consumed it, but never before I've even eaten it.

#2 : I don't drink Coke. Never have, never will. I cramp like a teenager going through her first menstrual pains if I have even just a glass of this vile brew. No idea why, but if my body say's it's not welcome, who am I to argue. All other fizzy drinks are fine, except Coke.

                                               
#3 : I don't drink coffee or any of it's variations either. Same reason as Coke. It has me rolling around the floor in pain. I think it's an allergic reaction to caffeine. No Tiramissu cake, no lattes,no espresso's, no anything that has coffee in it. My drink of choice would be Rooibos tea, or any other herbal tea. I don't like tea's with milk anyways.

#4 : I don't touch condiment's (salt, pepper, sauce bottles etc) at restaurants or public eating areas with my bare hands. I always hold them with a napkin. Yes, I'm finicky that way.

#5 : I'm able to make friends very quickly, but I'm able to walk away from friendships even quicker once my trust has been betrayed. That's probably why I don't subscribe to the Best Friend theory. Life's too short to have just one person you'd trust with your life. It's more fun having many people trusted with little bits, than one person trusted with all of it. That's my philosophy anyways.

#6 : When I was 18, an uncle I took as a father since my own dad passed away when I was 3, said to me "You'll never make it out in the world without me." I moved out of his home that same day, and his words have been my inspiration to make a success of my life ever since. A few years later, the same uncle came to my home asking for a loan. A few times.
I guess I did make it without him after all.

#7 : I was born a lefty. Left-handed, left-footed. Until my primary school teacher forced me to start writing with my right hand.So now I'm right-handed but left-footed.

#8 : I've already lived through my greatest fear.
I was too young to remember much about my Dad's drowning, but what I've been told by everybody who knew him is that his soccer team had gone to Club Shalimar to celebrate winning the league. They arrived early in the morning, and he loved the water and swimming so he dived into the rock-pool before his team mates even unpacked the vehicles. Not long after, they joined him at the pools, but he wasn't there. They found him at the bottom of the pool shortly afterward. Apparently he had a cramp as he dived in, and hit his head at the bottom of the pool.
Needless to say, I had an intense fear of water growing up. Ironically, or as fate would have it, my mom remarried and her new husband spent every chance he could on the water! He's an avid fisherman who owns a boat. It took a while, but my fear of water was finally confronted. Water and I became friends, but the kind of friends where you always knew the other could beat you up any chance they got. So I respected the oceans and the pools.
One year we went to St Lucia on holiday. Rustic, rough, bungalows, camping on the beach, no nets in the shark-infested waters, the kind of holiday where dry socks and a toothbrush is considered a luxury.
One day four of us decided to head out into the ocean for a swim. An hour later, we realized the current had carried us out to sea. One of the girls that had joined us on this trip, suddenly panicked and couldn't swim or keep her head above water.We were about 12 years old at the time.
In an instant, thoughts of my Dad's drowning incident came rushing back. I was totally gripped by fear, but I also had my younger sister swimming by my side, in the same predicament. I couldn't have my fear known to her. So I fought on and fought through it.... and we made it back to shore safely. I don't think I've ever confessed my fear on that day to anyone, ever. So now you know.

#9 : I ran away from home once. I guess I was a troubled teenager, the kind that believed nobody understands them. I stayed under a bridge for the night. My mom somehow blocked the whole thing out of her head and doesn't believe it happened. Sometimes troubled teenagers are the result of troubled parents.

#10 : There's an item on my Bucket List which I wrote about on a previous post that I want to do before I turn 40. Even if it's just for one night only, I'd like to do Stand-Up Comedy.

Well, there you have it. 10 things you may not have known about me.

Wheres The Party At?

My sister had a birthday party for her 3year old this Sunday.
Sure that sentence sounds simple and straight-forward enough, but if you know anything about my sister Aadilah you would know that nothing is ever simple or straight-forward. She's a perfectionist of note. She's such a perfectionist, Martha Stewart calls her to get approval before she releases a new book or DVD.

So anyways, the theme of the party was "Fairies & Pixies".
This pic is of Sabreen in her Fairy outfit. I'm hoping you figured that out already. If you haven't, this is where you move on to the puzzle section of the blog.

Anyways, we get there at around 2pm and I suddenly realize that my sis wasn't lying about having 150 guests over. We're an Indian family, so any function of less than 100 people is technically not a planned event. My wedding was 1000 people (and every seat was taken), our average weekend braai is 20-30 people. So a birthday party for a 3year old with 150 people is not unusual in the least bit.

Now the one thing I love about Aadilah is that she's probably the most level-headed person in my entire family. She's 9 years younger than I am, but tends to be the glue that binds us all together. I'm more of the sledgehammer that pulverizes everything into smithereens, then asks for super-glue to put it all together afterward. Thats when Aadiah comes in.
So at the party there were a few people I hadn't seen for years, and some I never thought I'd ever see again.
Like my step-dad (who's Aadilah's real dad.) Yeah it's complicated,but then which family isn't?
Now I haven't spoken to him since the day I got married, over 10 years ago!
Of course I knew I couldn't ignore him all afternoon, so I figured I'll just bite the bullet and go chat to him. I thought I'd take my lead based on his response.

Here's a transcript of that encounter:

Me: Salaam. How you doing? (I wasn't sure what to call him, so I left that section blank. I considered "Bob" but decided against it.)
Him : Salaam. I'm good. What's this? *pinches my stomach*
Me : 2 inches lower and you'll have to wash your hands Mister!
Him : What?!
Me : Oh... I was just saying I need to lose a few inches down below.
Him : Yes you do.
*awkward silence.... sound of crickets.... more awkward silence...*
Me : All right then. We gotta do this again sometime. Salaam.

So here's the thing.. What do you call your ex-step-dad whom you haven't seen for like 10 years?
It wasn't so much an awkward moment as it was weird.

Ok maybe not as weird as when I met one half of my twin-cousins whom I haven't seen for ... oh wait, also 10 years. The fact that they're from step-dad's family could have something to do with that.
Now anybody who knows me knows I'm horrible with remembering names.

Here's a transcript of that encounter:

Twin-Cousin : Hey Fareed!! So good to see you. How have you been?
Me : Heeey!! *trying to remember her name, and drawing a blank* Yeah I'm good! Great to see you again!
Twin-cousin : It's been too long. We were just talking about you the other day?
Me : *suddenly remembers that one's name is Aysha & the other's name is Yasmin, but not sure which one this is I'm talking to* That's true! We should get together more often. How's Aysha? *figures I have a 50% chance of getting the name right*
Twin-cousin : I'm Aysha!
Me : *Damn! Blew that chance!* I knew that. I was speaking in the 3rd person.
Twin-cousin : hhmm... *thinks I've become retarded since she last saw me* Aysha's good I suppose.
*awkward silence.... more crickets...*
Me : Oh look, cake! Spot you later.

Well at every social gathering there's always that one old crazy dude that everybody hides from when he heads your way. I never knew who that dude was until he came to sit next to me, and I looked around me and wondered where everybody went.
I was watching the soccer on the telly at the time, so I really wasn't concentrating on my environment. In hindsight I should have stood up to leave when everyone else suddenly did, instead of sitting there thinking "Where's the fire?"
So Old Geezer sit's next to me and I politely smile at him.
We're both there watching the soccer when suddenly he makes a racist joke. I look around and see nobody else in the room. So here's my dilemma : Do I laugh and be polite, do I give him a piece of my mind only to find out later he's the grand-uncle of my brother-in-law and Godfather to my niece, or do I pretend I didn't hear him?
So I pretended I was choking on a chicken-bone *odd though coz this was a kiddies party, and there was no chicken served* and ran for the bathroom.

Evidently I'm fun to have around at social gatherings, even if I have a knack of getting myself into the weirdest situations.

Rock Star Weekends

So the family got together this weekend and decided to have a pooitjie for Sunday lunch. The well-informed had lunch before they arrived, as we later found out that a good pooitjie takes about 4 hours to cook!

Needless to say, when the 4 hour mark came up, we were hungry enough to start gnawing the legs off the tables. Thankfully, the pooitjie was delicious (as can be seen in the pic above.)

A game of 30 Seconds followed, and I have never laughed so much in one afternoon. I shall refrain from going into details as I may be banned from any further family outings and lunches if I do.

The week ahead is going to be manic, so it's fitting that the weekend ended on an absolute high.

On a final note, Windhoek is NOT on the way to Cape Town, and Mel Gibson DID NOT betray Jesus ;)