I should probably ask Max for Idris’s contact info instead of doing searches. Each time I search for him it just makes me more upset.
Idris was one of my many High School crushes. But unlike most of them, he actually had a crush on me. I didn’t figure that out until 9 years after the fact. Both of us were shy, and only let our attraction blaze thru occasionally. On the rare occasions he was feeling brave enough to flirt, I was often paralyzed by fear. And when I overcame my fear, he would be his normal shy self. Lovely little curse, isn’t it?
And we ran in different crowds. You can’t get too different when there are only 29 people in your class, but still . . He was Muslim, and wealthy. I was a missionary kid, and Christian. His set went to Europe for Christmas and summer, and I was lucky to get a new outfit for Christmas. He convinced his father to let him have the Mercedes Benz Graduation, while I had my own bike.
But it was a small school. Half of our classes were together.
Today I put his name into a Google search. I turned up article after article detailing why his family was on the terrorist watch list. It makes me so mad!
Idris Naserddin was the grandson of Ahmed Idris Nasreddin. His grandfather started a company called Nasco. It was the Nigerian equivalent of Nabisco. They made cookies, and crackers. In the Third World Economy of Nigeria, the company had a stabilizing influence on our region. It provided jobs, and a boost to the economy. I’m sorry, economic stability is the one thing that will bring poor third world countries into self-determining nations. Nasco was one of the reasons Jos, Nigeria was a stable, non-violent city. It wasn’t the only reason, that’s for sure, but it was a contributing factor.
And now I learn that Ahmed Naserddin was part of a banking group that Al Quida used as a front for their money. I’m not shocked, and I don’t doubt it one bit. Money in the third world runs in their tight circles. Bin Laden, and Naserddin were both living and working in areas with undependable post, police, electricity and phone. And they were banking in huge sums of money.
As a crush crazy teenager who put off term papers, I never bothered to learn how those things were taken care of. My parents went all night dinner parties with their Arabic banking friends because that’s what was expected when you were exchanging Dollars for Nira. I am sure that Ahmed Naserddin did socialize with Bin Laden.
But would Ahmed Naserddin agree with Bin Laden, and then have his two grandsons’ attend an American run Mission school in Nigeria? If Nasredin supported Bin Laden’s ideologies, wouldn’t he send his grandson’s to Islamic schools, have them schooled in the Qu'ran, instead of doing New Testament Survey they’re Junior year, and going to Chapel every Friday?
I asked my classmates about it. A few of them kept up with Idris over the years. Idris can’t come into the United States. His name is on a watch list. Family fortunes have been frozen. His grandfather was horrified to learn Bin Laden’s ideologies.
It’s guilt by association. And Idris can’t fight it. He has no way of clearing his name. I’ve watched over the years as more websites list his name.
Idris is an innocent guy. His grandfather might have banked with Bin Laden, but that doesn’t make him a terrorist. There are only a few people who have big money in the third world and are willing to bank. You can’t be too choosy.
But now as the Naserddin family continues to do business in Nigeria, whom can they invest their money with? They cannot hold their money in Swiss accounts, British, or American. By labeling their family terrorists, we have boxed them in. Their only choice is to continue as they have always done. When they might have made a shift to take their banking elsewhere, the American government forced them to turn instead to radicals, and extremist.
Guilt by association is a cruel and unusual punishment.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Suya?
A few weeks ago I experimented with a recipe for Suya. The flavor turned out great, but it had way too much peppa! The combination of garlic, ginger and paprika was good, but not like Nigerian Suya. Oh, I miss the Suya man! A couple of sticks of Suya and a cold mineral from the Canteen, nothing quite like it.
But I’ve been doing some googling for a Suya recipe, but everybody uses the same spices. How do I tone down the heat? I need to make this okay for kids. My 5 and 6 year old just refused to eat it. And without a good bit of rice to calm my mouth, I would have been in a bad place too.
Ah ah, how now am I going to make good chop-chop?
But I’ve been doing some googling for a Suya recipe, but everybody uses the same spices. How do I tone down the heat? I need to make this okay for kids. My 5 and 6 year old just refused to eat it. And without a good bit of rice to calm my mouth, I would have been in a bad place too.
Ah ah, how now am I going to make good chop-chop?
Monday, January 29, 2007
House Fairy Magic
House Fairy has invaded my house. And my routines that locked me in have suddenly become liberating once again. I actually want to vacuum the floors. Now that the kids have picked up their bedroom, and I can see my way thru, I want to clean that carpet for them.
We arrived at the babysitter’s this morning, and the kids went screaming to tell her two girls. House Fairy is going to come and give us a surprise if our room is clean! Does House Fairy come check your room? Does she leave Fairy Dust for you?
This morning, I walked into the kids’ room, and I actually could walk without looking. I didn’t have to navigate a course thru the sea of toys. The trash has been picked up off the floor. Last night Iona could pick out her clothes without arguing with the drawers. House Fairy suggested that we reduce their clothing down to 10 items of each. I wonder why I didn’t realize this. Iona was swimming in clothes. She had so many things; she couldn’t see what she wanted. The poor baby was overwhelmed.
I thought I was blessing my children with a lot of choices. Instead I was stuffing their drawers so full they couldn’t put stuff away. I was overwhelming them. Instead of being able to find their favorite clothing, Ian’s Lightening socks were lost in the mix, and Iona’s pretty shirts were stuffed somewhere in the back of her drawers. Their clothing wasn’t a blessing, it was a curse.
When the welcome letter comes from House Fairy, we are going to do the same thing with the toys. The excess that we’re keeping will go into storage. We’ll give other things away to goodwill. And in a month, we’ll rotate out the toys. I’ll bless the kids with toys they can actually find and play with. Their toy box will no longer be this big hulking mess in the corner.
I’m going to get them each their own special box to keep things in. They each have a toy box. But Ian likes to keep stickers, and Iona collects necklaces. They each need a place to keep these things. Probably House Fairy will give them these wonderful surprises. And I’ve got to go pick up some glitter sprinkles to be House Fairy Dust.
We arrived at the babysitter’s this morning, and the kids went screaming to tell her two girls. House Fairy is going to come and give us a surprise if our room is clean! Does House Fairy come check your room? Does she leave Fairy Dust for you?
This morning, I walked into the kids’ room, and I actually could walk without looking. I didn’t have to navigate a course thru the sea of toys. The trash has been picked up off the floor. Last night Iona could pick out her clothes without arguing with the drawers. House Fairy suggested that we reduce their clothing down to 10 items of each. I wonder why I didn’t realize this. Iona was swimming in clothes. She had so many things; she couldn’t see what she wanted. The poor baby was overwhelmed.
I thought I was blessing my children with a lot of choices. Instead I was stuffing their drawers so full they couldn’t put stuff away. I was overwhelming them. Instead of being able to find their favorite clothing, Ian’s Lightening socks were lost in the mix, and Iona’s pretty shirts were stuffed somewhere in the back of her drawers. Their clothing wasn’t a blessing, it was a curse.
When the welcome letter comes from House Fairy, we are going to do the same thing with the toys. The excess that we’re keeping will go into storage. We’ll give other things away to goodwill. And in a month, we’ll rotate out the toys. I’ll bless the kids with toys they can actually find and play with. Their toy box will no longer be this big hulking mess in the corner.
I’m going to get them each their own special box to keep things in. They each have a toy box. But Ian likes to keep stickers, and Iona collects necklaces. They each need a place to keep these things. Probably House Fairy will give them these wonderful surprises. And I’ve got to go pick up some glitter sprinkles to be House Fairy Dust.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Gifts
Last night, a friend lamented how ill behaved her daughter has been of late. She’s currently attending a class, and her 20-month-old daughter is spending 12 hours a day in day care. When they arrive back at the studio apartment they are sharing for 6 weeks, the child grabs her hair, and pulls all the drawers out.
“You need to come down hard on her. Time in the corner big time!” I told her. “Do one minute, it will be hell for both of you.”
I could hear her agree over the phone.
“But she’s got so much to adjust to. She doesn’t see me.”
Yeah, we discussed the level of change for this six-week class. They are staying in a different city, far away from normal friends. This poor toddler is dealing with a huge level of change in her life, and that does explain why she is acting out more than usual.
“All that means is you have to make the boundaries tighter, stick to your guns more than usual,” I explained. “She’s had a ton of changes, and more than anything she needs you to be consistent with her, she needs to feel like you haven’t changed.”
“Yeah, but I want to spend quality time with her. I only get a few hours in the evening with her, and I don’t want to spend them disciplining her!”
“But what are you doing right now? Are you getting any quality time? You’re spending all your time cleaning up the messes she is creating.”
As parents, we do this quite often. In an effort to make life easier on our children we refrain from disciplining them. So that Ian can get thru church easier, I won’t insist that he sit in the pew. Then he starts flipping around in the church pew, turning somersaults, and hits his head against the wooden pew. Not only did he get anything out of church, neither did I, and he’s got a goose egg on his head to show for it.
When I had step-kids for the summer, I would create a home school curriculum for them. They were not overly impressed. The idea of spending summer break with me wasn’t high on their agenda, and let alone to spend it learning about Rome! For Pete’s sake, did I not understand that they had just gotten out of school!
The structure and expectation got us thru the summer. We had very few blow-ups, and most of the time, were able to have a lot of fun. There was time to go swimming, and play with friends. In between we drew pictures of roman homes, and designed togas.
Structure, discipline and consistency are what children need in times of high stress. When life is swirling out of control, and there are so many demands on our children, the best gift we can give them is time in the corner for a misdeed.
“You need to come down hard on her. Time in the corner big time!” I told her. “Do one minute, it will be hell for both of you.”
I could hear her agree over the phone.
“But she’s got so much to adjust to. She doesn’t see me.”
Yeah, we discussed the level of change for this six-week class. They are staying in a different city, far away from normal friends. This poor toddler is dealing with a huge level of change in her life, and that does explain why she is acting out more than usual.
“All that means is you have to make the boundaries tighter, stick to your guns more than usual,” I explained. “She’s had a ton of changes, and more than anything she needs you to be consistent with her, she needs to feel like you haven’t changed.”
“Yeah, but I want to spend quality time with her. I only get a few hours in the evening with her, and I don’t want to spend them disciplining her!”
“But what are you doing right now? Are you getting any quality time? You’re spending all your time cleaning up the messes she is creating.”
As parents, we do this quite often. In an effort to make life easier on our children we refrain from disciplining them. So that Ian can get thru church easier, I won’t insist that he sit in the pew. Then he starts flipping around in the church pew, turning somersaults, and hits his head against the wooden pew. Not only did he get anything out of church, neither did I, and he’s got a goose egg on his head to show for it.
When I had step-kids for the summer, I would create a home school curriculum for them. They were not overly impressed. The idea of spending summer break with me wasn’t high on their agenda, and let alone to spend it learning about Rome! For Pete’s sake, did I not understand that they had just gotten out of school!
The structure and expectation got us thru the summer. We had very few blow-ups, and most of the time, were able to have a lot of fun. There was time to go swimming, and play with friends. In between we drew pictures of roman homes, and designed togas.
Structure, discipline and consistency are what children need in times of high stress. When life is swirling out of control, and there are so many demands on our children, the best gift we can give them is time in the corner for a misdeed.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Panic Central
I nearly had a panic attack tonight. Well not even nearly. I could feel myself ramping up towards one, and I got control of it before it became bigger than I could handle.
Trying to make dinner with two tired, active children in the house is almost more than I can bear. First they were running all over the house. Ian was jumping on the couch. Iona was screaming at him. Then they ran to the bedroom. I heard water running in the bathroom, and Iona screaming once again. Jumping on my bed, jumping on their own bed, spilling unknown substances on the floor, all while I’m trying to cook.
But then I took some of my Bach Floral Remedy, and put them both in the corner. In a quiet voice I explained that Mommy couldn’t deal with a lot of noise. They were each under orders to sit in their corner until I said they could get out.
We made it thru dinner, and then quickly came baths. I don’t know if I like my bath time routine, or hate it. Being on edge of a panic attack, facing a long routine, one hour, is kind of hard, and yet kind of comforting. I don’t have to think about what I’m going to do, I know the routine. The children know the routine. And yet, it is hard to get thru because there are so many points where the kids can derail the process. Baby steps; take it one baby step at a time, I tell myself. Instead of worrying about 10 steps up, worrying about what’s going on right now.
Sometimes I hate my routines. I feel so Obsessive/Compulsive. Other times I need them desperately. If I’m in the middle of a panic attack, a routine is a balm for my soul. My mind is on overdrive, and I can’t figure out how to get things done. A routine is something I can just do on autopilot. Even though I’m overwhelmed, and hyperventilating, I can still get the kids in the bath, out of the bath, dressed, and into pj’s all without a second though. It calms me down to know what to do next. And just moving, continuing to live is often the cure for a panic attack.
Trying to make dinner with two tired, active children in the house is almost more than I can bear. First they were running all over the house. Ian was jumping on the couch. Iona was screaming at him. Then they ran to the bedroom. I heard water running in the bathroom, and Iona screaming once again. Jumping on my bed, jumping on their own bed, spilling unknown substances on the floor, all while I’m trying to cook.
But then I took some of my Bach Floral Remedy, and put them both in the corner. In a quiet voice I explained that Mommy couldn’t deal with a lot of noise. They were each under orders to sit in their corner until I said they could get out.
We made it thru dinner, and then quickly came baths. I don’t know if I like my bath time routine, or hate it. Being on edge of a panic attack, facing a long routine, one hour, is kind of hard, and yet kind of comforting. I don’t have to think about what I’m going to do, I know the routine. The children know the routine. And yet, it is hard to get thru because there are so many points where the kids can derail the process. Baby steps; take it one baby step at a time, I tell myself. Instead of worrying about 10 steps up, worrying about what’s going on right now.
Sometimes I hate my routines. I feel so Obsessive/Compulsive. Other times I need them desperately. If I’m in the middle of a panic attack, a routine is a balm for my soul. My mind is on overdrive, and I can’t figure out how to get things done. A routine is something I can just do on autopilot. Even though I’m overwhelmed, and hyperventilating, I can still get the kids in the bath, out of the bath, dressed, and into pj’s all without a second though. It calms me down to know what to do next. And just moving, continuing to live is often the cure for a panic attack.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Generosity
“Mom, are the black gloves mine?” Ian asked. I stepped over the backpack on the floor. I had to go pee, the inevitable when first arriving home. Black gloves? Hmm . . . they used to be Aaron’s, but now they are Ian’s.
“Yes, honey, they’re yours.” I plopped my work bag down in its spot, and turned on the light. Iona danced around, dropping her backpack right in the entryway. “Iona! Backpack!”
“Okay, I gave them to Carlos because he didn’t have any.”
Suddenly the whole world stopped as I thought about this comment. When I was naked you clothed me, Lord when did we see thee naked, and cloth you. My little guy had seen a friend in need, and given all that he could to help him. My heart brimmed with such wonder.
I recalled a story I heard. A group of children went on a field trip. While on the trip, a young girl saw another girl without a jacket. She took of her jacket and gave it to the child in need. The organizer was so angry. This child in his care now had no jacket. On arriving home, the organizer explained the predicament to the parent, very upset about the child’s behavior. Instead of becoming anger the mother asked the child, did the other girl really need the jacket? The child said she did, and the mother smiled. She explained, her child had done the right thing, in caring for another. And now they would go pick out a nice new jacket to replace the one that had been given away.
I took Ian in my arms and asked him, did Carlos need gloves? Ian nodded, looking at me with slight trepidation. I grinned and held him close for a moment.
But my bladder was calling, so I made a quick run to the bathroom. When I came back I grabbed my Bible, and found the passage in Matthew. I called Ian over to sit on my lap while I paraphrased the passage from Matthew. I explained that he had done what Jesus wanted us to do, he had clothed his friend.
He grinned at me, and went back to screaming at his sister.
We went to Target and picked up some gloves on sale. He got a pair of Sponge Bob ones, and a Scooby Doo. He’s pretty proud of himself.
I did impress upon him that Mommy doesn’t have a lot of money, so next time he wants to help someone, please ask first. I don’t know how much impressing I really did, but I tried to make it clear. Meanwhile he tried to turn somersaults on my couch! Why is every serious discussion happening while these kids are on the move! I think the only time they are still is while they sleep!
“Yes, honey, they’re yours.” I plopped my work bag down in its spot, and turned on the light. Iona danced around, dropping her backpack right in the entryway. “Iona! Backpack!”
“Okay, I gave them to Carlos because he didn’t have any.”
Suddenly the whole world stopped as I thought about this comment. When I was naked you clothed me, Lord when did we see thee naked, and cloth you. My little guy had seen a friend in need, and given all that he could to help him. My heart brimmed with such wonder.
I recalled a story I heard. A group of children went on a field trip. While on the trip, a young girl saw another girl without a jacket. She took of her jacket and gave it to the child in need. The organizer was so angry. This child in his care now had no jacket. On arriving home, the organizer explained the predicament to the parent, very upset about the child’s behavior. Instead of becoming anger the mother asked the child, did the other girl really need the jacket? The child said she did, and the mother smiled. She explained, her child had done the right thing, in caring for another. And now they would go pick out a nice new jacket to replace the one that had been given away.
I took Ian in my arms and asked him, did Carlos need gloves? Ian nodded, looking at me with slight trepidation. I grinned and held him close for a moment.
But my bladder was calling, so I made a quick run to the bathroom. When I came back I grabbed my Bible, and found the passage in Matthew. I called Ian over to sit on my lap while I paraphrased the passage from Matthew. I explained that he had done what Jesus wanted us to do, he had clothed his friend.
He grinned at me, and went back to screaming at his sister.
We went to Target and picked up some gloves on sale. He got a pair of Sponge Bob ones, and a Scooby Doo. He’s pretty proud of himself.
I did impress upon him that Mommy doesn’t have a lot of money, so next time he wants to help someone, please ask first. I don’t know how much impressing I really did, but I tried to make it clear. Meanwhile he tried to turn somersaults on my couch! Why is every serious discussion happening while these kids are on the move! I think the only time they are still is while they sleep!
Early morning
This is my daughter getting dressed in the morning. Take note of the bath mat beneath her. At least she's out of bed!
Needless to say, we have a lot of mornings were she's not dressed in time for breakfast. Some of the time, even not dressed by the time I'm ready to go. Twice now I've actually taken her to school in her pj's.
A few days ago she waited until five minutes before I left the house to throw her clothing on. She managed to put her jeans on backwards. The back pockets were sitting right up front. I didn't say a word, and off we went. When I picked her up after school she had set everything in order. I asked her about it. She confessed that she had changed her jeans in P.E. Proudly she told me, and nobody said anything before, or after!
Hey, consequences. This morning she actually made it to the breakfast table! YAHOO!!
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