How the Garcia girls spent their summer

After several unsuccessful attempts I have effectively forced myself to complete one entry before I lay my head to rest tonight.... I say rest, but for the past couple of nights my sleep has been disturbed and fretful.

I can safely say it is due to my lack of concentration, my inability to find peace and be with myself at ease. Silence is deafening and the thoughts I fill my head up with are even more unsettling.

I have been yet again forcibly enrolled in another hagbad for my postgraduate studies not knowing what I wish to study for fear of choosing something I loathe (history will not repeat itself).

I ran into a former classmate of mine the other day (I hadn't seen her in nearly five years). She announced she was getting married next Thursday, she'd known her fiance for a month and her parents arranged for them to get married after they'd shown her his Curriculum Vitae (marriage CV that is). I have to add that they are Bengalis.
The Somali haphazard way of arranging marriages seems laughable compared to the expertly executed, choreographed, well researched premarriage programme she had to work through. Impressive but not my cup of tea. As much as I love my vader en moeder their ideal partner would be just that, THEIR ideal partner not mine.


Not too long ago we were discussing the prospect of me or my other siblings marrying an ajanabi (foreigner) with my mother. Her response after systematically insulting men from every nationality I can think of was "Hooyo! Qof aan af garanayo ii keen" I reminded her that she is more multilingual that I am. Nonetheless she still upholds the false belief that no man will be a better husband than Isaaq spawn/descendant. I know that she wants the best for us, but for someone who has lived outside of her country for most of her life she should be a little bit more open minded. Ma3aleesh.


I'm a troubled woman at work, having to spend this entire week working in Nuclear Medicine. Where I am more or less made despondent within five minutes of a one sided conversation with the most eccentric and ancient consultant I have ever met. It has nothing to do with the innuendos, the handshake or the tap on the back that lasts a little longer than it should do, the inappropriate comments always made when not in the company of others. There is just something about him that just makes me feel sorry for him. The stooped composure, the stained white coat he wears when doing clinical work, the age spot riddled hands clutching the impossible small syringe. He has atrial fibrillation (AF) and for some strange reason the entire hospital knows about it, even the med students. One of them walking tentatively into the department recognised me from a previous life (pre-med) and after a short conversation asked if the 'horrible old doctor with AF' was in that day. He has a reputation that precedes him. His peculiar way of conversing with patients makes me want to take off my theatre issued clog and clobber him with it. I fell out with him a while ago when he shouted at me, I don't like confrontation but for some reason decided to tell him that him least of all people should not tell me what my job is, hinting at his archaic approach to nurses. Alas you can't teach an old dog new tricks.


At the beginning of may having bought entry to Pharaoh's old kingdom, I found myself in Cairo, Madinatul Nasr, with 3 other girls, a beautiful apartment we had been calling home for 3 weeks.

The streets were dusty and crowded, a non existed traffic system navigated by us with the aid of our colourful cab drivers. (I had to verbally assault several of them)


Running an errand for my dad had taken me to Muhammad Ali Street just off Ataba Square Market. I had to locate an Oud (Middeleastern Lute) for him. He has been playing this instrument for as long as I can remember and the one he currently has, has been like a sibling for mine for 20 years.
At one of the shops we had an oud maker play the instrument for us.

For no less than 21 day, the toilet had become our closet ally, Cairo belly..... Need I say more!

This hadn't stopped us indulging in many a midnight feasts at City Stars Mall. Cue us at Chili's our rumbling tummies waiting


We saw the Giza Plateau, its 9 pyramids guarded by the Sphinx,

rode a camel (very briefly), saw Tutankhamen's death mask at the Egyptian Museum, had our bags X-rayed time and time again

We went to the beautiful Al Azhar park, and stayed there for the panoramic view at sunset and to hear the acapella of the Muezzins calling in the Maghrib prayers across the city.

One night we went to a fun fair, I stupidly went on this ride called the Flying Carpet. I said my Shahada non-stop from start to finish, I really thought I would fly off my seat and die a cruel death, My sister on the other hand sat behind me and kept laughing hear head off in between screams of enjoyment. And my mate Fowsia started of with her Shahada as well, then said "fuck it" and screamed so loud I heard ringing in my ears for ages afterwards *shakes head in disgust*

We took a 6.5hr bus ride to Hurgadah tourist seaside city on the Red Sea, where I saw so much naked flesh I thought my eyes would rot out of their sockets, had a pleasant stay at the hotel, went quadbiking and watched my comrades splash about in the sea, took a 6.5hr bus ride back with multilingual proudly uneducated Ahmad the toothless chain smoking, ex-Giza tourist worker, who now owns a shop in Khan El Khalili, his "kids are naughty and wife (the third one) is crazy" unfortunately the second wife reminded him of his first when they slept together, his two and a half year old daughter is scared of black people but immediately warmed to my sibling Nimo who in turn became frightened of the insect bite marks indiscriminately covering the poor girls' body. we eventually returned to the hustle and bustle of Cairo and it was as if we never left.

The airplane ride back on the BA offered us some in flight entertainment in the form of Clint Eastwood's latest directorial offering: Gran Torino. I cried a little.

I've written too bloody much and need to get some fretful sleep, for tomorrow is another day.